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[WP] It's the apocalypse. You're a teenage boy with braces and suddenly you realize you'll probably never get your braces off so you start your search for an orthodontist who's still alive, while trying to survive. | *They said my braces would come off before I turned 17... I know it's not their fault, but still. They promised me, and in a few months that promise will be broken, even if they won't be around to know.*
Alan lost everything in the apocalypse: his family, his friends, his possessions, and the ability to get his braces removed. Over the past two years, they have been hurting more and more, probably due to the damage they have sustained through various falls and no maintenance. Although he's been surviving around his hometown for these two years, he's decided it's time to move on. San Francisco couldn't support him forever anyway-the remnants of North Korean warheads assured him of that.
The next morning he left, heading north. He heard that Canada wasn't hit as hard, although who knows what the effects the fallout had. Except for ornery survivors and the odd traveller, he hasn't really interacted with anyone. He doesn't know much about the outside world anymore.
Through overgrown forests he travelled, following the coastline to keep his heading. He only stopped when he was tired or found food. Food. That's the issue around here, there is enough rainwater for most of the year, but food is hard to come by. Alan quickly realized that he was no Survivorman, he couldn't build traps or craft decent weapons. Any animals he caught were already injured or he got through sheer determination and luck. Instead, he focussed on mainly plants and scavenging. He had packed enough food for about 1 month of travel if he rationed well.
And so he travelled, peacefully for the most part. Every once in a while he saw evidence of dangerous animals or another human, but he made no real contact, it was a lonely existence.
*I can't take this anymore! I want to tear out my teeth! They promised me! God I can't wait until I find a damn orthodontist and get him to remove these braces... but how will I pay? I'll think of something, I NEED these off.. I'll figure that out later I guess. For now, I'll just keep going.*
After about a month and half, he ran out of food. From now on it was only what he could find or catch, which was not in his favor.
Now 3 days without food, Alan is about to give up hope.
*I can't believe I risked my life for this, and soon I'll pay the price. I just wanted to fulfill their promise. I just wanted to be reminded of them.*
There's no room for sentiment in an apocalypse, and Alan thought he learned that too late. Now he was going to starve to death, in a forest, alone.
Then he sees a road, but it's not just a road, it's a highway. Yes it's abandoned, but it means that he has a definite path to follow. With a little more vigor, he marches northward. Not too long after he sees a sign.
*Seattle, 2 miles. THANK GOD. It's not Canada but it's close! And the sign also lists Vancouver, although the distance is too worn to read. It didn't matter, he could stock up in Seattle, or maybe even find an orthodontist!*
Alan was excited, until he found no one in Seattle. Not a soul. He hoped that they all went to Canada as well, but he knew that wasn't likely. Luckily enough, he found some more food, enough for about 4 days, and he proceeded on with his journey.
And then it came, about 2 days later, Vancouver. He was finally there, and it was time to get his braces off.
*Now where do I even look for an orthodontist? I'll go to downtown Vancouver! There's definitely going to be people there!*
But there wasn't, in fact, much like Seattle, he saw no signs of life. It's like everyone left. Not sure what to do, he gave up. He had no energy to travel back to San Francisco, and he knew it was getting colder. He had to stay here for the winter if he had any chance of surviving, and so he did.
Unfortunately Vancouver was not as plentiful with food as San Francisco, in fact he only found enough to last 2 months.
2 and a half months in, Alan was too weak to move. He could barely keep his eyes open, and he knew it was the end. There was no room for sentiment in an apocalypse, and Alan realized it too late. Almost inaudibly, he whispered out to himself.
*Mom, Dad, I'll see you soon. And hopefully when I do, I won't still have these braces on. You can keep your promise, even if it's a little late*
And with that, he had breathed his last breath. | Her name was Audrey. She was a few grades ahead of me, but my brother and I went out for JV baseball together and I remember seeing her pick him up after practice from time to time. I never saw her again after, but I'll always remember her face on the Day. Her seeing me holding the door. Our eyes meeting. Her gaze drifting to the Mack truck grill cemented over my teeth. How she kept going, taking her chances with the undead horde trailing only steps behind her.
You look back at those moments and try to puzzle them through from every angle: maybe the angle of attack was wrong; Audrey was worried the quick, lateral adjustment would allow Them to catch up to her. Or, in the moment she may have thought I'd panic – slamming the door in her face at the last, desperate second. Maybe she had another plan, any other plan.
But it was the hot, instant, irrational pang of emotion that stuck with me. That drove me. I would get the braces off, or die trying.
His name was Hammond. Dr. Jim Hammond, DDS. I learned of him after the group I fell in with made it to the emergency response camp – he was the last orthodontist anyone could reliably attest to having put eyes on. Apparently his neighborhood was impacted by the highway collapse and his family never made it to the buses, but three different parties claimed to see his Land Rover dog-legging around the worst of the backup and off-roading back north. A former patient of his said he knew for a fact he had a cabin upstate; even knew the lake it was on, the county road you got off of for the last mile or so.
The night I left, Carol stopped me. She was a dental hygienist, or would be, basically, if she ended up getting credit for her last semester of the two-year program after all this. She said she would give it a shot if I stayed and headed south with everyone else. Mark, another familiar face in the camp, worked construction, was familiar with epoxy and power tools. They could make it work, she said.
I had decided if something means enough to you to risk everything, you should should do the thing right.
I stuck the woods. I learned that They, like people, tended to be funneled towards the roads and the trappings of civilization. I walked by day. I walked by night. I slept when my legs collapsed out from under me, always awaking in a panic, unsure of how I reached a given spot, if I was still oriented northward in my travels. I learned my lesson when I awoke one night, the snarling, salivating face of one of Them almost on top of me. It had wedged itself between the jagged thrusts of a rock outcropping I had somehow taken shelter behind. If it had tried to go around instead of through...
I got smarter. I got quicker, too. Somehow more determined. The distances began to melt away. Before long I found my way on and then off County Highway Ten. I had passed over a ridge that showed off the lake shimmering not far below the rise, and I made my way to and then along the shoreline, stopping to navigate the fences and other divisions bounding individual properties from time to time. As I began to falter, I found myself looking up at one of the many cabins that had began to run together and become uniform. Unique to the exterior of this one, however, was the presence of a human figure.
I was startled. It had been a while since I saw anything bipedal that hadn't been trying to bring my insides outside. But this was a man, not one of Them. He held a rifle in halfhearted grip. I saw the mud-caked Range Rover in the driveway behind him.
“Dr. Hammond?”
The man paused, screwing his face up in confusion. He replied after a moment of reflection. “Yes?”
I collapsed.
When I came to I was inside the house. Between giant, choking swigs from a glass of water twice-refilled, I told him everything. He stared at me in disbelief, while his wife and twin boys – Anna, Aaron, and Kyle, I would soon learn – wore expressions that were considerably more perturbed. At the end of it all, Dr. Hammond shook his head and laughed.
“I have... so many questions,” he said. “But the answer for you is yes. I hesitate to tell you this, but really it's just a gentle break of the bond between the teeth and the bracket – I'm surprised you haven't broken one free by accident by now. A lot of people do. But after that it's just a little scrape to tidy things up and...”
He went on. I listened, stone-faced, nodding at polite intervals, and ran through an internal monologue of curses that cannot be repeated. But I was here. He was here. All would be taken care of.
“Of course,” said Dr. Hammond. “You will be getting them off prematurely, and you haven't been on the best of adjustment schedules. Honestly, instead of yanking them, I'd recommend we restart a regimen of periodically tightening them and seeing how things go over time-”
“No, Doc,” I said. “They're coming off.” In retrospect, I regret expressing myself as such with my near-feral appearance. Truth be told, at this juncture, I was probably pretty off myself. The way Anna pulled the boys closer. It wasn't a good scene.
“Doc, I've been through hell. I've seen hell. I've been out there with Them, and who knows how much longer any of us have. I just want them off. And... well, sure I also want good teeth. But I guess I can't make both happen.”
The orthodontist was quiet for a long time. And then he took me by the arm and let me to the next room, the dining room. There, he sat me down in a chair at the table, moved to the bar, and poured himself a drink.
“I was young once,” he said. “And stupid for even longer. And as an older man the counter I'd make to every young and stupid decision is 'think about the future'. And, yes, you're right – that argument right now looks like a load of shit, excuse my language.”
I held up a hand and he continued. “If you really want this, if it's something I can do to make these days – maybe our last – any better for you... would you be willing to consider an alternative?”
“If it gets me what I want,” I said, without hesitation.
He took another drink. “An extreme alternative?”
“Doc, did I stutter?”
---
Jim had me take a break from chopping wood out back, and Anna gave me a glass of iced tea as I entered the house. I thanked her, raised the glass to my lips, and paused. I put the glass down and went down the hall to the bathroom. I passed Kyle on the way, tousling his hair as he went by.
Once in the bathroom, I closed the door. Locked it. I turned to the mirror and smiled. I marveled, perhaps irrationally, at how well they held up with the work, the sweat. The dentures looked like the real thing.
I stood in front of the mirror for a long time. I smiled. I thought about Audrey.
I thought about going south. | |
[WP] 15% of the Earth's population has gained superpowers, but instead of heroes and villains, most people use theirs for mundane tasks. Your powers have awakened, and you can finally realize your dream: Small Business Ownership. | “I’m not gonna hurt you, so calm down” said the woman who just appeared in front of me. “Now, I need you to drop the gun and please, please keep an open mind. I have a job for you.”
Before I could say anything, she added: “Well, I don’t want to *hire* you, I want you to be my partner.” She continued. “And I know you don’t have any money, but you are key in this. I don’t know anywhere else I could find someone like you. We can split things evenly, after I win back what I’m spending on setting the place up.”
“I think you got the wrong person”
“I didn’t”
“You’re creeping me out” I said before I turned my back and started to walk away.
“I know”
I looked at her suspiciously. She shrugged. “I also know you didn’t have that gun before you saw me”.
I walk towards her. “Ok, what’s your idea?” I said without enthusiasm.
“First, I’ll need an universal car key”. I looked at her demanding an explanation.
“No, we’re not stealing this car, we’re just borrowing it.” I don’t believe her. “Fine, let’s take the bus. But we’ll take longer.”
I’m trying to think about other things. Personal stuff. Nothing that could matter to her. Maybe humming a song in my head. Picking up meditation in college is really helping me now.
“You know” she bursted out of nothing, “you don’t have to do that. It’s not like I’m going to take advantage of you with your darkest secrets or whatever. First, I have to focus on the person. And second, maybe that was a good idea at the beginning, but after the years, I can’t keep track of all the information I gather”. I don't know why, but I trust her on this.
We get off the bus in downtown. We walk two blocks until we reach a closed store in one of the bussiest streets of our city. She gets a key from her pocket and unlocks the padlocks in the front. It’s a really good location for a business. On the top, the sign reads “The Dream Taste”.
“Don’t worry” she says, “It’s all legal, trust me. Although, if I had known you were going to be like this, I would've taken more precautions.”
We get inside the store. It has all the settings of a small casual restaurant, with tables and chairs, but has no decoration at all. The walls are white, the lights are bright – almost too bright – and the chairs and tables are black.
“I don’t want the clients to be polluted with a suggestion. If we put up a style of decoration the people are going to think in a food style in particular, and that’s not the idea.”
There’s a taller table near the back and a doorway to another room at the end.
“That’s the kitchen at the end” she says, “but we don’t need a kitchen”, adds, looking at me. “Right?”
“You can have and do whatever you want at that room, as long as you keep the illusion. You know, for the clients. I’m just going to bother you when I need you to cook something”.
I look around the place. This is a great idea. And a room for me and only for me? I don’t have to make and unmake things when my family is near anymore. I just have to come up with an excuse of why I'll be spending all the day out.
“I should take that as a yes, right?” I look at her, smiling.
“Ok, get to the back.” “I’m going to open shop now, we don’t really need anything else.”
The *kitchen* is very little, but in a matter of minutes, I’m very comfortable.
I hear steps. A man in his fifties, on his way to baldness, stumbles on the restaurant, looking around very confused. The woman looks him and just smiles. He suddenly notices her. “Excuse me young lady” he says, “what is it that you sell here?” “Food” she answers. “And what kind of food?”
“Oh, don’t you worry” she answers, as she takes his arm and guides him to a chair. “I know just what you have in mind”.
| "where's the rest of you?"
"I'm sorry?"
"you're with 'small moving Co.' Right?"
"sure am!"
"so where's the rest of your guys? My couch is pretty big..."
"just me!"
"just you?"
"if you would just move a little to the side..."
"oh, right. You're one of *them*"
"sure am!"
The couch gently floated out of the door, followed by a train of boxes, pictures, and chairs. The entire contents of my first customers house slowly empties into a bobbing cloud in the front porch. I hopped on my skateboard, punched their new address into my phone, and telekenetically boosted myself down the road with the cloud of furniture in tow. The heros and supervillans had the entirely wrong idea; superpowers make starting a small business the way to go. | |
[WP] Most people are born in a hospital. You were born in a funeral home. | "Entry 20: Most people are born in a hospital. I was born in a funeral home" - that is what written in the brown leather-covered diary the size of my palm when I opened it.
I woke up a few hours ago with a terrible headache and no memories. All I felt was the coldness of the floor echoing through my spine despite me wearing multiple layers of clothes and a thick white jacket on top. *I Must have laying there for a while*. The small leather diary caught my attention as soon as I stood up because it was the only non-metallic thing in this place. Surround me were all kind of machines with hundreds of buttons on them, some of which were flashing different colors. The scenery around me combined with the fact that I was wearing a lab coat mean I am a scientist of some kind and a terrible misfortune must have happened to one of my experiments that led to my current state.
I hurriedly flip through the pages of the notebook, trying to find out what have happened.
"Entry 19: One year when all the garden gnomes were swept away by the hurricane, Father put a fake white beard, a red top hat, and a gnome costume on me and made me stand outside all night to protect the garden."
*What is this absurdity* - I thought to myself. If this is truly my diary, and everything in here is true, then the man that put me through that experience does not deserve to be called a father.
I read through a few more pages: entry 18, entry 17, entry 16,... all the way down to entry 1. Nothing but miserable childhood experiences. *I won't regain my memories this way, I need to read the newer entries about the events that led me here.* I grabbed a whole stack of pages by their corners and flip the diary to its last 2 entries.
"Entry 98: I have successfully finish the prototype. The world will now know how great I truly am."
"Entry 99: P is coming. I know he is coming. He always does."
Entry 98 must be talking about that giant machine with the satellite disk in the middle of the room there. There's a small silver plate on the side of the machine that say "M-m--inator". Some characters were scratched out to the point of being unintelligible. The whole machine looks banged up also, like there were a battle or explosions happened here. And who in the world is 'P', the one that is mentioned in entry 99. Is he the one that caused me to lose my memories? Is that machine what he was after? Why can't I remember anything? I throw the diary to the floor and clench my fist in frustration. In the end, that thing didn't answer any of my questions. All it does is throwing more questions my way. I lean my back against the purple tinted glass wall watching the diary on the floor slowly folding itself while tears falling through my eyes.
"Entry 4: My father bought a white spitz howl dog and named him 'Only Son'. 'Only Son' won many competitions and brought my father fame and fortune"
"Entry 3: On my 4th birthday, I celebrated my birthday with my only friend: Balloony the human-faced balloon. That was the last time I saw him because he flew away into the sky the next day"
"Entry 2: It all started when both of my parents failed to show up on the day of my actual birth"
"Entry 1: I, Heinz Doofenschimirtz, will now record every details of my life experience in this note book for future reference"
| I've been watching her for a while. The girl didn't have a particularly good life, but you couldn't say that it was bad either. Really, that girl was nothing special, just another pea in the pot. a student from a normal high school, with few friends and not particularly popular in class, but most definitely not bullied.
Yes, no special qualities whatsoever.
Her movements are soft and normal, she walked in the crowd that filled the streets of the city, listening to music in an attempt to separate herself from reality, burying herself in her own little world. From time to time she would crash with other people that she encountered on her way, but she just kept going as if nothing unusual was happening.
*Why her?*
She reaches the crossroad, the light is green and the cars are going at a high speed, everyone patiently waits for the light to turn red.
It was at that moment. That her legs started to move
One step, two steps, three, four.
She starts to show some resistance.
*Calm down*, *take deep breaths*, *you can do this*, *God chose her*
She stops fighting back. As if giving up. As if accepting *reality*.
Her legs start to move again.
No one stops her, they too were in their own little world, too deep inside to care about a random girl.
"I wish--"
A truck is coming, whoever was riding it didn't care about going at such a high speed or the repercussion that it could have. time slows down, the girl and the truck, this two object are going to meet but only one of them can resist the force of the other.
"--I could be just like them"
Time moves at a normal pace again, the girl falls on her knees as the truck passes by her, for some reason she starts to cry and take deep breaths as if she was gasping for air. Right now, at this very moment. She was alive.
People just stare at her and move around her as the lights turn red.
I start puking. the floor is stained with what I had for breakfast this morning.
*I couldn't do it*, *I couldn't do it*, *I couldn't do it*
"You failed, huh?"
I'm not surprised to hear that voice, I always knew he was nearby.
"Father...I-"
"shut it" I immediately obey, "perhaps...it was too soon for you... you're not ready to be an Apostle yet..." his words weren't directed at me, he was just talking to the air. But even so, I can *feel* the disappointment in his voice.
"Father! please give me anot- "
"You haven't seen yourself in a mirror, haven't you? your skin is losing color and your swearing a lot despite the cold weather, those are obvious symptoms of overuse of Control" he said this as if it was only natural, I clenched my fists. but that action on itself was hard to accomplish "it's enough for today, we are going home, I'm sure we'll get a lot of clients today and I need you and your sister to be presentable"
"...yes...Father..."
*Goodbye random girl... I guess you got lucky today huh?*
"also--"
My Father starts talking while walking away. and for a short moment, I look back. People are screaming, people are asking for help, they are panicking. But why? everything was over. It was all over in an instant so there was nothing that could be done about it.
The girl had been run over by a car, her mangled figure on the asphalt and her brain matter scattered in front of her. But there was only one victim, and it was her.
"--don't sympathize with the target. Otherwise, you won't be able to truly become one of us."
"Yes, Father" I tried my best to not show the shaking of my voice.
***
Let me know what you think, any advice is really appreciated!
[r/Onni21](https://www.reddit.com/r/Onni21/)
| |
Edit: Wow! I didn't expect this post to blow up overnight! Thank you all for the awesome writing! | [WP] You are a 17-year-old living in a futuristic dystopian society where a fascist party rules the world. Upon turning 18, citizens are required to take a DNA test to put their genetic information on file. When you go to take yours, your genetic identity is a 100% identical to that of the dictator. | As soon as I pulled my finger away from the test I looked at the screen in shock. Instead of showing my face, the face on screen belonged to the supreme leader of our society. It had to be a mistake, there was no way it was correct.
The woman who aministered the test only sat there with her wide eyes as her cigarette fell out of her mouth. After the initial disbelief, she slid her hand under the table, setting off an alarm that triggered security. Immediately, guards in full body armor came down, and I felt a force shove me to the ground. My face hit the cold cement hard, knocking my head and making me feel disoriented. Something cold pressed against my face, and I quickly realized it was the barrel of a gun.
"Don't move an inch or I'll blow your fucking brains out!" threatened the guard.
Shallow breaths escaped my mouth. Sweat poured from my forehead. Every sense in my body was alert. I dared not to make a wrong move for fear of the potential consequences if I did.
I was lifted up to the ground, and handcuffed from behind. The guards threw me into the back of a vehicle and drove away. I felt the car lift off the ground and fly up somewhere. I couldn't see anything in the back of the car, except total darkness.
Then, after a few minutes of flying, I found myself on the roof of a building. The bright lights of the city blinded me when the car door open, and the guards proceeded to forcefully drag me into the building. After descending down a few staircases I found myself in a large room that overlooked the city. A large golden throne seated the man I recognized as our supreme leader. Two heavily armed guards sat beside him.
"I see you're the one who's come to replace me." said the old leader on the throne.
I didn't say a word. I had no idea what he meant. Me replace him? I was just a regular citizen, how could I replace the leader?
"My time is running out. That's why I made you. You've got the exact DNA that I have, and now I can continue to run this country even after death. You'll make an excellent replacement." said the leader.
The leader took off his large cape and a guard handed it to me. Then he motioned to one of the guards and I watched as the leader was shot through the head. I was unhandcuffed, and I was now wearing the cape. The throne seemed to beckon me. With a grin on my face, I kicked the pathetic old man off the throne. I was the leader now, and all the guards in the room bowed down to me.
As leader, I made an announcement to the citizens that I was in charge now, and that they were only to worship me. If any of them were to rise against me, they would be killed on the spot.
The old leader had a list of people he thought were suspicious on a monitor. I told the guards to go out an kill all of them. After that, I demanded the nuclear launch codes and launched some nukes at our enemy neighboring countries.
The fireworks soon lit up the sky as thousands of pathetic ants who tried to rise against me were crushed.
There would be no stopping me. I was a god, and I would hold onto my power forever. After all, I came back to the throne, and would continue the clone myself and do so until the end of humanity. | Awesome! I might have disliked him before but now that I know that I’m basically set for life he’s my new best friend. But wait! A rebellion has been instated in the capital city and overthrown the tyrant just as I was getting used to the comfy life. Oh woe is me. “Death to all tyrants”, I yell and pump my fist conveniently as the rebellion enters the office. They shoot him and I cheer and blend back in with the crowd and sulk forever about missing my one shot at the good life. |
Edit: Wow! I didn't expect this post to blow up overnight! Thank you all for the awesome writing! | [WP] You are a 17-year-old living in a futuristic dystopian society where a fascist party rules the world. Upon turning 18, citizens are required to take a DNA test to put their genetic information on file. When you go to take yours, your genetic identity is a 100% identical to that of the dictator. | ...but then again, so is everyone else's. We're clones. All of us. Copies of the First, identical in almost every respect. Some clones are more perfect than others, of course, and any who strayed too far from the genetic norm were destroyed, but I wasn't that unlucky.
"96%," was the verdict. Well within acceptable norms. Not close enough to be admitted to the council, not low enough for the nutrient vats.
Well, not low enough to be IN the nutrient vats. No. I clean them. A job too demeaning for automation. Here I am, a genius with an IQ as high as any of my fellow copies, perfect physical specimen, assigned to gross physical labor.
Somebody's got to do it. All part of the plan. I mean, supposedly. The lie, maybe. The illusion. We're all smart enough to realize that there probably isn't a plan. I couldn't come up with one, and at 96%, that probably means that He couldn't either.
But what can I do? Call Us all out? No. Our shared imposter syndrome is all that keeps the machine running. | Awesome! I might have disliked him before but now that I know that I’m basically set for life he’s my new best friend. But wait! A rebellion has been instated in the capital city and overthrown the tyrant just as I was getting used to the comfy life. Oh woe is me. “Death to all tyrants”, I yell and pump my fist conveniently as the rebellion enters the office. They shoot him and I cheer and blend back in with the crowd and sulk forever about missing my one shot at the good life. |
Edit: Wow! I didn't expect this post to blow up overnight! Thank you all for the awesome writing! | [WP] You are a 17-year-old living in a futuristic dystopian society where a fascist party rules the world. Upon turning 18, citizens are required to take a DNA test to put their genetic information on file. When you go to take yours, your genetic identity is a 100% identical to that of the dictator. | I woke up, the day after my test. I still couldn't believe it. I was *his* son. The man that had his fingernails replaced with small knife blades so it would be easier to kill the advisors who angered him. The same man who built himself up on a pile of dead friends and political allies or opponents. Great.
I was not expecting to see the sun set today. Or any other day, for that matter, because as soon as my test results came in, the attendant ran out of the room, clutching a USB drive. As I walked to my mandatory classes, I saw a crowd of people talking and whispering quietly, underneath an old freeway overpass. As I got closer and closer, I could see something hanging from it.
Oh god.
It was the attendant that had run out of the room yesterday. There was no way I was going to my classes now, because they would be waiting for me. I turned around and ran home as fast as I could, ignoring strange looks and questions. Panting, I ran up the stairs to the apartment, and stopped. My door was hanging wide open, with a large hole where the doorknob had been. As quietly as I could, I started to turn around...
And ran straight into 300 pounds of pure muscle. The huge bodyguard picked me up by the back of my shirt, and, despite my kicking and protesting, he carried me into my apartment. With surprising gentleness, he placed me on my old worn-out couch, and left the room. I glanced around my apartment, completely confused. Nothing seemed to be out of place, except for the gaping hole in my front door.
The bathroom door squeaked open, and without the lights turned on, I could see a small figure walk out and close the door again. I was even more confused. This figure was not bulky or muscular, or even at an average height. Strange choice for a bodyguard. The figure walked forward, and as he came into the light, I cried out in surprise.
It was my biological father, knife-fingers and all. I stood up, ready to make a run for it. He shook his head and motioned for me to sit back down again. I did so, apprehensively glancing at his sharp silver fingernails. He came closer and closer, until he stood less than a meter from me. His eyes met mine, and he grinned, a terrible grin that revealed sharp, carefully-filed teeth. Great. He was going to eat me. As I prepared for the inevitable, he inched closer, until my face was mere centimeters from his. My eyes wide with fear, his narrowed in a cruel sneer. He raised his arms, and I closed my eyes, bracing for the pain.
It never came.
Instead, I felt his arms wrap around me, holding me in an embrace.
My eyes flashed open, and sure enough, the Dictator, my father, was... hugging me.
| Awesome! I might have disliked him before but now that I know that I’m basically set for life he’s my new best friend. But wait! A rebellion has been instated in the capital city and overthrown the tyrant just as I was getting used to the comfy life. Oh woe is me. “Death to all tyrants”, I yell and pump my fist conveniently as the rebellion enters the office. They shoot him and I cheer and blend back in with the crowd and sulk forever about missing my one shot at the good life. |
Edit: Wow! I didn't expect this post to blow up overnight! Thank you all for the awesome writing! | [WP] You are a 17-year-old living in a futuristic dystopian society where a fascist party rules the world. Upon turning 18, citizens are required to take a DNA test to put their genetic information on file. When you go to take yours, your genetic identity is a 100% identical to that of the dictator. | ...but then again, so is everyone else's. We're clones. All of us. Copies of the First, identical in almost every respect. Some clones are more perfect than others, of course, and any who strayed too far from the genetic norm were destroyed, but I wasn't that unlucky.
"96%," was the verdict. Well within acceptable norms. Not close enough to be admitted to the council, not low enough for the nutrient vats.
Well, not low enough to be IN the nutrient vats. No. I clean them. A job too demeaning for automation. Here I am, a genius with an IQ as high as any of my fellow copies, perfect physical specimen, assigned to gross physical labor.
Somebody's got to do it. All part of the plan. I mean, supposedly. The lie, maybe. The illusion. We're all smart enough to realize that there probably isn't a plan. I couldn't come up with one, and at 96%, that probably means that He couldn't either.
But what can I do? Call Us all out? No. Our shared imposter syndrome is all that keeps the machine running. | As soon as I pulled my finger away from the test I looked at the screen in shock. Instead of showing my face, the face on screen belonged to the supreme leader of our society. It had to be a mistake, there was no way it was correct.
The woman who aministered the test only sat there with her wide eyes as her cigarette fell out of her mouth. After the initial disbelief, she slid her hand under the table, setting off an alarm that triggered security. Immediately, guards in full body armor came down, and I felt a force shove me to the ground. My face hit the cold cement hard, knocking my head and making me feel disoriented. Something cold pressed against my face, and I quickly realized it was the barrel of a gun.
"Don't move an inch or I'll blow your fucking brains out!" threatened the guard.
Shallow breaths escaped my mouth. Sweat poured from my forehead. Every sense in my body was alert. I dared not to make a wrong move for fear of the potential consequences if I did.
I was lifted up to the ground, and handcuffed from behind. The guards threw me into the back of a vehicle and drove away. I felt the car lift off the ground and fly up somewhere. I couldn't see anything in the back of the car, except total darkness.
Then, after a few minutes of flying, I found myself on the roof of a building. The bright lights of the city blinded me when the car door open, and the guards proceeded to forcefully drag me into the building. After descending down a few staircases I found myself in a large room that overlooked the city. A large golden throne seated the man I recognized as our supreme leader. Two heavily armed guards sat beside him.
"I see you're the one who's come to replace me." said the old leader on the throne.
I didn't say a word. I had no idea what he meant. Me replace him? I was just a regular citizen, how could I replace the leader?
"My time is running out. That's why I made you. You've got the exact DNA that I have, and now I can continue to run this country even after death. You'll make an excellent replacement." said the leader.
The leader took off his large cape and a guard handed it to me. Then he motioned to one of the guards and I watched as the leader was shot through the head. I was unhandcuffed, and I was now wearing the cape. The throne seemed to beckon me. With a grin on my face, I kicked the pathetic old man off the throne. I was the leader now, and all the guards in the room bowed down to me.
As leader, I made an announcement to the citizens that I was in charge now, and that they were only to worship me. If any of them were to rise against me, they would be killed on the spot.
The old leader had a list of people he thought were suspicious on a monitor. I told the guards to go out an kill all of them. After that, I demanded the nuclear launch codes and launched some nukes at our enemy neighboring countries.
The fireworks soon lit up the sky as thousands of pathetic ants who tried to rise against me were crushed.
There would be no stopping me. I was a god, and I would hold onto my power forever. After all, I came back to the throne, and would continue the clone myself and do so until the end of humanity. |
Edit: Wow! I didn't expect this post to blow up overnight! Thank you all for the awesome writing! | [WP] You are a 17-year-old living in a futuristic dystopian society where a fascist party rules the world. Upon turning 18, citizens are required to take a DNA test to put their genetic information on file. When you go to take yours, your genetic identity is a 100% identical to that of the dictator. | I woke up, the day after my test. I still couldn't believe it. I was *his* son. The man that had his fingernails replaced with small knife blades so it would be easier to kill the advisors who angered him. The same man who built himself up on a pile of dead friends and political allies or opponents. Great.
I was not expecting to see the sun set today. Or any other day, for that matter, because as soon as my test results came in, the attendant ran out of the room, clutching a USB drive. As I walked to my mandatory classes, I saw a crowd of people talking and whispering quietly, underneath an old freeway overpass. As I got closer and closer, I could see something hanging from it.
Oh god.
It was the attendant that had run out of the room yesterday. There was no way I was going to my classes now, because they would be waiting for me. I turned around and ran home as fast as I could, ignoring strange looks and questions. Panting, I ran up the stairs to the apartment, and stopped. My door was hanging wide open, with a large hole where the doorknob had been. As quietly as I could, I started to turn around...
And ran straight into 300 pounds of pure muscle. The huge bodyguard picked me up by the back of my shirt, and, despite my kicking and protesting, he carried me into my apartment. With surprising gentleness, he placed me on my old worn-out couch, and left the room. I glanced around my apartment, completely confused. Nothing seemed to be out of place, except for the gaping hole in my front door.
The bathroom door squeaked open, and without the lights turned on, I could see a small figure walk out and close the door again. I was even more confused. This figure was not bulky or muscular, or even at an average height. Strange choice for a bodyguard. The figure walked forward, and as he came into the light, I cried out in surprise.
It was my biological father, knife-fingers and all. I stood up, ready to make a run for it. He shook his head and motioned for me to sit back down again. I did so, apprehensively glancing at his sharp silver fingernails. He came closer and closer, until he stood less than a meter from me. His eyes met mine, and he grinned, a terrible grin that revealed sharp, carefully-filed teeth. Great. He was going to eat me. As I prepared for the inevitable, he inched closer, until my face was mere centimeters from his. My eyes wide with fear, his narrowed in a cruel sneer. He raised his arms, and I closed my eyes, bracing for the pain.
It never came.
Instead, I felt his arms wrap around me, holding me in an embrace.
My eyes flashed open, and sure enough, the Dictator, my father, was... hugging me.
| As soon as I pulled my finger away from the test I looked at the screen in shock. Instead of showing my face, the face on screen belonged to the supreme leader of our society. It had to be a mistake, there was no way it was correct.
The woman who aministered the test only sat there with her wide eyes as her cigarette fell out of her mouth. After the initial disbelief, she slid her hand under the table, setting off an alarm that triggered security. Immediately, guards in full body armor came down, and I felt a force shove me to the ground. My face hit the cold cement hard, knocking my head and making me feel disoriented. Something cold pressed against my face, and I quickly realized it was the barrel of a gun.
"Don't move an inch or I'll blow your fucking brains out!" threatened the guard.
Shallow breaths escaped my mouth. Sweat poured from my forehead. Every sense in my body was alert. I dared not to make a wrong move for fear of the potential consequences if I did.
I was lifted up to the ground, and handcuffed from behind. The guards threw me into the back of a vehicle and drove away. I felt the car lift off the ground and fly up somewhere. I couldn't see anything in the back of the car, except total darkness.
Then, after a few minutes of flying, I found myself on the roof of a building. The bright lights of the city blinded me when the car door open, and the guards proceeded to forcefully drag me into the building. After descending down a few staircases I found myself in a large room that overlooked the city. A large golden throne seated the man I recognized as our supreme leader. Two heavily armed guards sat beside him.
"I see you're the one who's come to replace me." said the old leader on the throne.
I didn't say a word. I had no idea what he meant. Me replace him? I was just a regular citizen, how could I replace the leader?
"My time is running out. That's why I made you. You've got the exact DNA that I have, and now I can continue to run this country even after death. You'll make an excellent replacement." said the leader.
The leader took off his large cape and a guard handed it to me. Then he motioned to one of the guards and I watched as the leader was shot through the head. I was unhandcuffed, and I was now wearing the cape. The throne seemed to beckon me. With a grin on my face, I kicked the pathetic old man off the throne. I was the leader now, and all the guards in the room bowed down to me.
As leader, I made an announcement to the citizens that I was in charge now, and that they were only to worship me. If any of them were to rise against me, they would be killed on the spot.
The old leader had a list of people he thought were suspicious on a monitor. I told the guards to go out an kill all of them. After that, I demanded the nuclear launch codes and launched some nukes at our enemy neighboring countries.
The fireworks soon lit up the sky as thousands of pathetic ants who tried to rise against me were crushed.
There would be no stopping me. I was a god, and I would hold onto my power forever. After all, I came back to the throne, and would continue the clone myself and do so until the end of humanity. |
Edit: Wow! I didn't expect this post to blow up overnight! Thank you all for the awesome writing! | [WP] You are a 17-year-old living in a futuristic dystopian society where a fascist party rules the world. Upon turning 18, citizens are required to take a DNA test to put their genetic information on file. When you go to take yours, your genetic identity is a 100% identical to that of the dictator. | I woke up, the day after my test. I still couldn't believe it. I was *his* son. The man that had his fingernails replaced with small knife blades so it would be easier to kill the advisors who angered him. The same man who built himself up on a pile of dead friends and political allies or opponents. Great.
I was not expecting to see the sun set today. Or any other day, for that matter, because as soon as my test results came in, the attendant ran out of the room, clutching a USB drive. As I walked to my mandatory classes, I saw a crowd of people talking and whispering quietly, underneath an old freeway overpass. As I got closer and closer, I could see something hanging from it.
Oh god.
It was the attendant that had run out of the room yesterday. There was no way I was going to my classes now, because they would be waiting for me. I turned around and ran home as fast as I could, ignoring strange looks and questions. Panting, I ran up the stairs to the apartment, and stopped. My door was hanging wide open, with a large hole where the doorknob had been. As quietly as I could, I started to turn around...
And ran straight into 300 pounds of pure muscle. The huge bodyguard picked me up by the back of my shirt, and, despite my kicking and protesting, he carried me into my apartment. With surprising gentleness, he placed me on my old worn-out couch, and left the room. I glanced around my apartment, completely confused. Nothing seemed to be out of place, except for the gaping hole in my front door.
The bathroom door squeaked open, and without the lights turned on, I could see a small figure walk out and close the door again. I was even more confused. This figure was not bulky or muscular, or even at an average height. Strange choice for a bodyguard. The figure walked forward, and as he came into the light, I cried out in surprise.
It was my biological father, knife-fingers and all. I stood up, ready to make a run for it. He shook his head and motioned for me to sit back down again. I did so, apprehensively glancing at his sharp silver fingernails. He came closer and closer, until he stood less than a meter from me. His eyes met mine, and he grinned, a terrible grin that revealed sharp, carefully-filed teeth. Great. He was going to eat me. As I prepared for the inevitable, he inched closer, until my face was mere centimeters from his. My eyes wide with fear, his narrowed in a cruel sneer. He raised his arms, and I closed my eyes, bracing for the pain.
It never came.
Instead, I felt his arms wrap around me, holding me in an embrace.
My eyes flashed open, and sure enough, the Dictator, my father, was... hugging me.
|
I hate being a muto, oculocutaneous albinism, the worst form of albinism there is. Although it has afforded me some...advantages. Intimidation, the natural and instinctive, primal presence of a predator is as indistinguishable as the smell of death... having no pigment only accentuates it. The fear this intimidation elicits is a brutally useful tool especially when you grow up in the gutters because you were discarded as bio waste in a wetlab. "Euthanize and incinerate" those where the orders written on the bucket of bio matter I was tossed into as a newborn. The day I broke into the lab and read that file it only proved my lifes greatest realization, the only thing in this world that needs to care about you is you.
My name is Eric Kohl, well it is this year, I go through names like most people go through passwords. My true name is the one people know me as, Crack, as in crack cocaine you can imagine why. I am a defective clone of the east asian dictator Mal-Chin Jung, a Korean cybercrime hacks dealer who leveraged his way to power in the vacuum of WWIII. Today I register for my full citizen status privileges, today I replace Mal-Chin Jung. |
Edit: Wow! I didn't expect this post to blow up overnight! Thank you all for the awesome writing! | [WP] You are a 17-year-old living in a futuristic dystopian society where a fascist party rules the world. Upon turning 18, citizens are required to take a DNA test to put their genetic information on file. When you go to take yours, your genetic identity is a 100% identical to that of the dictator. | Of age record of David Stils
Recorded: 2/4/2168
Age: 18
I was born David stils on 2/4/2150. I had a fairly normal childhood. From 1-10 my parents took care of me as dictated by the empirical association of families. I began school at 3, and made rapid progress to my predicted life path. I was to become a senator in the house of the order of all. At 5 I was given my prework classes. At 6 I started my first commission as secretary to the 5th member of the order of all. I spent the remainder of my preadult years in this position. Upon reaching the age of 10 I was given my first pay check as is standard, and moved into my own living area. After that routine set in, and I found myself working my way to my predicted goal. From age 10 until 17 I continued to rise in rank from secretary to aid, from aid to Senators voice. Today on my 18th birthday I proceeded to the hall for medical research for my official entrance into adulthood. I was scanned for body specs, blood, and fluids were taken for analysis. I am now recording this for the official record as an admittance of my life. That I have done my best as a citizen to fulfil my obligations to the order. I end this log here.
Personal record
David Stils
Recorded:2/5/2168
Age 18
I was brought into the high chambers today. It was unusual, and not something that happens to many outside of only the highest political figures. I was told to sit. I did. I was asked questions regarding my birth, and my family. I answered. I was asked questions I did not know the answers too. Questions that didn't make sense. I am worried. What if I haven't been a good citizen? Will they come for me tomorrow. I don't want to be reworked. People aren't right afterwards.
Official record
High counsel Duragus Adams
Recorded: 2/5/2168
A child has been located that seems to be a product of past scientific attempts at cloning. He bares an identical genetic, and physiological aspects of the high one. He will be taken to the hall of science, and studied. We must know how he survived. He will likely only live for a few more months before well need to terminate the experiment. It's a shame really. So much could be gained from further study into his life before we take him.
Official record of death
Citizen #: 5890254756284
Given name: David Stils
DOD: 2/6/2168
Age: 18
Cause of death: drug overdose, likely self inflicted.
Body will be taken to hall of science for study, and disposal. Family was informed via notification system, and his job has been filled. Citizen evaluation
performance: 4/5
Health: 5/5
Loss to official production value: minimal
|
I hate being a muto, oculocutaneous albinism, the worst form of albinism there is. Although it has afforded me some...advantages. Intimidation, the natural and instinctive, primal presence of a predator is as indistinguishable as the smell of death... having no pigment only accentuates it. The fear this intimidation elicits is a brutally useful tool especially when you grow up in the gutters because you were discarded as bio waste in a wetlab. "Euthanize and incinerate" those where the orders written on the bucket of bio matter I was tossed into as a newborn. The day I broke into the lab and read that file it only proved my lifes greatest realization, the only thing in this world that needs to care about you is you.
My name is Eric Kohl, well it is this year, I go through names like most people go through passwords. My true name is the one people know me as, Crack, as in crack cocaine you can imagine why. I am a defective clone of the east asian dictator Mal-Chin Jung, a Korean cybercrime hacks dealer who leveraged his way to power in the vacuum of WWIII. Today I register for my full citizen status privileges, today I replace Mal-Chin Jung. |
Edit: Wow! I didn't expect this post to blow up overnight! Thank you all for the awesome writing! | [WP] You are a 17-year-old living in a futuristic dystopian society where a fascist party rules the world. Upon turning 18, citizens are required to take a DNA test to put their genetic information on file. When you go to take yours, your genetic identity is a 100% identical to that of the dictator. | I withdrew my finger. The screen hummed for a few moments as I waited impatiently. I rocked on my heels, staring at the rotating 'loading' symbol.
"How long is thi-"
The screen lit up and there was a sharp "*Ting!*"
*Finally.* I looked at the screen but my eyes didn't understand. There was an image of my face, and another's beside it. Below it simply said "Identical match."
"What?" I said loudly, and put my hand on the wall beside the screen.
The guard grunted and turned, leaning over to view the screen. His jaw slowly went slack. He quickly shuffled in front of the screen, doing a double take at it and then me. He turned to face the queue behind me and raised a hand.
"This testing center is closed. Fuck off, the lot of you." He somehow grumble-yelled.
After some minutes the room was empty save for myself and the guard. He ushered out the last citizens at the door, and mumbled into his radio. The tinny conversation was short. He approached the screen again, hands on his hips, incredulous. He lifted his helmet's visor to peer at the screen again.
"What are the odds, right?" I stammered.
The guard chuckled and side-eyed me. "No it's not right, look again." He pointed to the screen. I turned to look but still saw what I originally saw.
My image.
The dictator's image.
The words "Identical ma- | My mind was in a whirlwind as I clenched the piece of paper that identified by genetic embodiment. I crumpled the slip of paper and pushed it into the pockets of my corduroy blue pants. I didn’t want anyone around me to see what was causing my utter distress. My vision began to fuzz as I thought about the pure confusion at hand: I am related to Jerard. I am related to the man that has caused the whole country of Paleen to migrate out of their homes and voyage across the barren land to find a new home. I am related to the man that has murdered millions of children for the basis of their skin color. I am related to the man that has programmed the minds of young men and women so that they may follow the pathway of Jerardism.
I latched onto my stomach, attempting to settle the oatmeal I ate in the morning and to prevent it from spilling across the linoleum floor of Estate 19. I watched Clarissa, in her ordinary navy dress run across towards me with her paper.
“It’s official: I am not adopted Adam!” she laughed.
“I honestly think this is the stupidest thing they could have put us through. Like really? Doesn’t the government already have 24-hour surveillance and footage of all our births? What more do they want from us?
“Where’s your paper Adam?” she asked me.
I could not even bare to tell her. She would never speak to me again. She would shun me for being related to the man that murdered her entire family.
I stood up and began to walk away.
“Adam!” she called after me, but I had already turned the corner of the hallway.
I reached the exit gates of the facility and stood behind every other 18 year old in this region. I waited as everyone’s identification chip was scanned before leaving the building. This chip essentially tracks our every movement. It records where we have been last and logs our physiological patterns, and our mere thoughts. That way, if one of us happens to rebel, the so-called government can track down where we were last checked in at and what our thoughts encompassed.
“Why’d you run away from me?” Clarissa asked, whilst heavily breathing from trying to find me.
“Don’t worry about it.” I said.
I stepped right up to the administrator and he waved the sensor over my left arm, where the chip was inserted. A flash of red appeared on his screen. He cleared the screen and made another attempt at scanning my chip. Red marked the computer again. Was it because I thought so badly of Jerard only recently? I looked at the bald administrator and locked eyes with him. I instantly turned around and pushed Clarissa out of my way and ran toward the other end of the hall. Sirens wailed above me and I continued to cut corners to find any alternative escape. Suddenly, I felt a slight pinch in my neck. Slowly, I began to lose consciousness and laid on the ground motionless. Why did I even think it was possible for me to escape, there’s never an escape.
***
I opened my eyes and glanced around me. Where am I? I was surrounded by a diamond ceiling and a purely marble floor. State of the art robot maids were charging in the corner.
“Hello Adam.”
I turned to my right and saw him. I saw the man that has ruined this world. I didn’t even know what to do. I just wanted to kill him. No. I wanted him to suffer. I want him to suffer worse than all the sufferings he has caused to everyone in the world. I ran towards him but realized that my movement was completely restricted by a metallic lockdown structure.
“Fuck you.” I spat at him.
“Now is that any way to treat your president?”
“Fuck you. You ain’t shit.”
I watched as he went to put his hand in his pocket. I expected him to pull out a gun and immediately kill me but he didn’t.
“So you probably know why you’re here Mr. Adam. The results were in for the genetic identification test and it appears that you are another one of my sons.”
Son? Fuck no. I will never be associated with this bastard. He is absolute shit to me. I cannot possibly be his son.
“I am not your son.”
“Oh, but you are Adam.”
How the hell could I be his son when my parents are Alicia and Tarik.
“Those aren’t your real parents.” He answered the question I conjured up in my head.
“You see Adam, in my effort to homogeneize the world, I have realized that what better way to make the world perfect than by implanting my sperm into the bodies of women.”
“You mean fucking rape you asshole.”
“No no. Not rape. I am doing them a favor by even allowing them to feel the sexual sensations outside of mating season. They got to really feel what it’s like to have power reign in their body.”
I wanted to slice off his tongue and cut out his teeth one by one out of his blabbering mouth.
“Now is that any way a son would ever treat his father.”
“Fuck you.”
“Well anyways, you see I inserted my sperm in this woman species, don’t remember her name. And she had you…”
“Where is she?” I demanded.
Jerard chuckled at my question, as if it was something far-fetched to even ask. “She is dead of course!”
“Let me get to my point. The reason I decided to even do this favor to women was because I realized how great it could benefit me as well. All of my children will be specifically programmed to be killing machines.”
“I am not going to do that.” I shouted.
“It’s not your choice.”
It isn’t. And I knew it wasn’t, so I looked around my lock and began to conjure up ways to assassinate myself because I cannot possibly fathom the idea of murdering innocent lives.
“You’ll never win Adam.”
I found it.
“Never.”
He clicked the button that had begun my transformation.
|
Edit: Wow! I didn't expect this post to blow up overnight! Thank you all for the awesome writing! | [WP] You are a 17-year-old living in a futuristic dystopian society where a fascist party rules the world. Upon turning 18, citizens are required to take a DNA test to put their genetic information on file. When you go to take yours, your genetic identity is a 100% identical to that of the dictator. | When I saw the report, I was terrified - not at the contents of the report, which had a list of suggested relatives and the percentage of heritage, but by the reaction of the lab technician who had handed it to me. He snatched it out of my hand like it was a thermite grenade and apologized profusely for handing me the wrong folder.
"What?" I sputtered, "Wh-what is this?"
The technician was already preparing a shot out of something with a red vial. Red usually meant emergencies, as in, Emergency: sedate the patient immediately.
I leapt out of the chair, but not before the syringe had already been plunged up to its hilt into my bicep.
Reality swam in and out of focus.
Brief moments happened.
Hitting the floor
A hospital bed, surrounded by lab coats
A marker, drawing on my chest
A distorted remark:
"You dumbass! You handed an organ mule his genetic report?!"
A sharp pain
Then darkness. | My mind was in a whirlwind as I clenched the piece of paper that identified by genetic embodiment. I crumpled the slip of paper and pushed it into the pockets of my corduroy blue pants. I didn’t want anyone around me to see what was causing my utter distress. My vision began to fuzz as I thought about the pure confusion at hand: I am related to Jerard. I am related to the man that has caused the whole country of Paleen to migrate out of their homes and voyage across the barren land to find a new home. I am related to the man that has murdered millions of children for the basis of their skin color. I am related to the man that has programmed the minds of young men and women so that they may follow the pathway of Jerardism.
I latched onto my stomach, attempting to settle the oatmeal I ate in the morning and to prevent it from spilling across the linoleum floor of Estate 19. I watched Clarissa, in her ordinary navy dress run across towards me with her paper.
“It’s official: I am not adopted Adam!” she laughed.
“I honestly think this is the stupidest thing they could have put us through. Like really? Doesn’t the government already have 24-hour surveillance and footage of all our births? What more do they want from us?
“Where’s your paper Adam?” she asked me.
I could not even bare to tell her. She would never speak to me again. She would shun me for being related to the man that murdered her entire family.
I stood up and began to walk away.
“Adam!” she called after me, but I had already turned the corner of the hallway.
I reached the exit gates of the facility and stood behind every other 18 year old in this region. I waited as everyone’s identification chip was scanned before leaving the building. This chip essentially tracks our every movement. It records where we have been last and logs our physiological patterns, and our mere thoughts. That way, if one of us happens to rebel, the so-called government can track down where we were last checked in at and what our thoughts encompassed.
“Why’d you run away from me?” Clarissa asked, whilst heavily breathing from trying to find me.
“Don’t worry about it.” I said.
I stepped right up to the administrator and he waved the sensor over my left arm, where the chip was inserted. A flash of red appeared on his screen. He cleared the screen and made another attempt at scanning my chip. Red marked the computer again. Was it because I thought so badly of Jerard only recently? I looked at the bald administrator and locked eyes with him. I instantly turned around and pushed Clarissa out of my way and ran toward the other end of the hall. Sirens wailed above me and I continued to cut corners to find any alternative escape. Suddenly, I felt a slight pinch in my neck. Slowly, I began to lose consciousness and laid on the ground motionless. Why did I even think it was possible for me to escape, there’s never an escape.
***
I opened my eyes and glanced around me. Where am I? I was surrounded by a diamond ceiling and a purely marble floor. State of the art robot maids were charging in the corner.
“Hello Adam.”
I turned to my right and saw him. I saw the man that has ruined this world. I didn’t even know what to do. I just wanted to kill him. No. I wanted him to suffer. I want him to suffer worse than all the sufferings he has caused to everyone in the world. I ran towards him but realized that my movement was completely restricted by a metallic lockdown structure.
“Fuck you.” I spat at him.
“Now is that any way to treat your president?”
“Fuck you. You ain’t shit.”
I watched as he went to put his hand in his pocket. I expected him to pull out a gun and immediately kill me but he didn’t.
“So you probably know why you’re here Mr. Adam. The results were in for the genetic identification test and it appears that you are another one of my sons.”
Son? Fuck no. I will never be associated with this bastard. He is absolute shit to me. I cannot possibly be his son.
“I am not your son.”
“Oh, but you are Adam.”
How the hell could I be his son when my parents are Alicia and Tarik.
“Those aren’t your real parents.” He answered the question I conjured up in my head.
“You see Adam, in my effort to homogeneize the world, I have realized that what better way to make the world perfect than by implanting my sperm into the bodies of women.”
“You mean fucking rape you asshole.”
“No no. Not rape. I am doing them a favor by even allowing them to feel the sexual sensations outside of mating season. They got to really feel what it’s like to have power reign in their body.”
I wanted to slice off his tongue and cut out his teeth one by one out of his blabbering mouth.
“Now is that any way a son would ever treat his father.”
“Fuck you.”
“Well anyways, you see I inserted my sperm in this woman species, don’t remember her name. And she had you…”
“Where is she?” I demanded.
Jerard chuckled at my question, as if it was something far-fetched to even ask. “She is dead of course!”
“Let me get to my point. The reason I decided to even do this favor to women was because I realized how great it could benefit me as well. All of my children will be specifically programmed to be killing machines.”
“I am not going to do that.” I shouted.
“It’s not your choice.”
It isn’t. And I knew it wasn’t, so I looked around my lock and began to conjure up ways to assassinate myself because I cannot possibly fathom the idea of murdering innocent lives.
“You’ll never win Adam.”
I found it.
“Never.”
He clicked the button that had begun my transformation.
|
Edit: Wow! I didn't expect this post to blow up overnight! Thank you all for the awesome writing! | [WP] You are a 17-year-old living in a futuristic dystopian society where a fascist party rules the world. Upon turning 18, citizens are required to take a DNA test to put their genetic information on file. When you go to take yours, your genetic identity is a 100% identical to that of the dictator. | "But I don't LOOK like him" I knew that full well. The life of the leader was something everyone learned in school and it was exhaustively covered, from his birth a century ago to the present.
And included in that history was a picture of him at 18 years of age.
"I think you look very similar although there are of course slight differences due to environment, upbringing, nutrition, epigenetics and so forth" said the administrator as he tapped away rapidly at his computer with a fascinated look. "Regardless, you do possess the exact same DNA of our dear leader. This has never happened before and we certainly didn't expect it"
I didn't care about scientific discoveries or administrative red tape.
"That's great but what does this mean for me? This is meant to be stored on my ID. I'm going to need the thing for everything I do in the future from work, travel, a house, EVERYTHING! What do I do now?!"
The administrator paused in his typing and adopted a contemplative look. He then tapped an earpiece and whispered something to whoever was connected to him. It didn't put me at ease.
"Have you heard about the dear leader recently?" asked the administrator as he turned to face me. I nodded, it had been on the news, he was in poor health and it was a miracle of modern medicine he was still functioning at this age considering all he had put his body through during revolutions, wars and disasters.
"While we have been using the best in medical technology to extend his lifespan", continued the administrator as he stood and walked over to the door of the small office, "It has started to become impossible to continuously do this. The underlying structure is rotten and changing the windows and doors will not repair the whole, do you see my point?"
I nodded again, feeling increasingly anxious. Where was he going with this?
"Well, the house does not matter, but the resident within. And if he cannot live in that house, why not put him in an exact, or near exact, duplicate of the same building so that he can have a new lease on life?"
"In other words, why not give the Dear Leader your body?" At this point, he opened the door revealing a dozen heavily armed security personnel.
Fuck. | My mind was in a whirlwind as I clenched the piece of paper that identified by genetic embodiment. I crumpled the slip of paper and pushed it into the pockets of my corduroy blue pants. I didn’t want anyone around me to see what was causing my utter distress. My vision began to fuzz as I thought about the pure confusion at hand: I am related to Jerard. I am related to the man that has caused the whole country of Paleen to migrate out of their homes and voyage across the barren land to find a new home. I am related to the man that has murdered millions of children for the basis of their skin color. I am related to the man that has programmed the minds of young men and women so that they may follow the pathway of Jerardism.
I latched onto my stomach, attempting to settle the oatmeal I ate in the morning and to prevent it from spilling across the linoleum floor of Estate 19. I watched Clarissa, in her ordinary navy dress run across towards me with her paper.
“It’s official: I am not adopted Adam!” she laughed.
“I honestly think this is the stupidest thing they could have put us through. Like really? Doesn’t the government already have 24-hour surveillance and footage of all our births? What more do they want from us?
“Where’s your paper Adam?” she asked me.
I could not even bare to tell her. She would never speak to me again. She would shun me for being related to the man that murdered her entire family.
I stood up and began to walk away.
“Adam!” she called after me, but I had already turned the corner of the hallway.
I reached the exit gates of the facility and stood behind every other 18 year old in this region. I waited as everyone’s identification chip was scanned before leaving the building. This chip essentially tracks our every movement. It records where we have been last and logs our physiological patterns, and our mere thoughts. That way, if one of us happens to rebel, the so-called government can track down where we were last checked in at and what our thoughts encompassed.
“Why’d you run away from me?” Clarissa asked, whilst heavily breathing from trying to find me.
“Don’t worry about it.” I said.
I stepped right up to the administrator and he waved the sensor over my left arm, where the chip was inserted. A flash of red appeared on his screen. He cleared the screen and made another attempt at scanning my chip. Red marked the computer again. Was it because I thought so badly of Jerard only recently? I looked at the bald administrator and locked eyes with him. I instantly turned around and pushed Clarissa out of my way and ran toward the other end of the hall. Sirens wailed above me and I continued to cut corners to find any alternative escape. Suddenly, I felt a slight pinch in my neck. Slowly, I began to lose consciousness and laid on the ground motionless. Why did I even think it was possible for me to escape, there’s never an escape.
***
I opened my eyes and glanced around me. Where am I? I was surrounded by a diamond ceiling and a purely marble floor. State of the art robot maids were charging in the corner.
“Hello Adam.”
I turned to my right and saw him. I saw the man that has ruined this world. I didn’t even know what to do. I just wanted to kill him. No. I wanted him to suffer. I want him to suffer worse than all the sufferings he has caused to everyone in the world. I ran towards him but realized that my movement was completely restricted by a metallic lockdown structure.
“Fuck you.” I spat at him.
“Now is that any way to treat your president?”
“Fuck you. You ain’t shit.”
I watched as he went to put his hand in his pocket. I expected him to pull out a gun and immediately kill me but he didn’t.
“So you probably know why you’re here Mr. Adam. The results were in for the genetic identification test and it appears that you are another one of my sons.”
Son? Fuck no. I will never be associated with this bastard. He is absolute shit to me. I cannot possibly be his son.
“I am not your son.”
“Oh, but you are Adam.”
How the hell could I be his son when my parents are Alicia and Tarik.
“Those aren’t your real parents.” He answered the question I conjured up in my head.
“You see Adam, in my effort to homogeneize the world, I have realized that what better way to make the world perfect than by implanting my sperm into the bodies of women.”
“You mean fucking rape you asshole.”
“No no. Not rape. I am doing them a favor by even allowing them to feel the sexual sensations outside of mating season. They got to really feel what it’s like to have power reign in their body.”
I wanted to slice off his tongue and cut out his teeth one by one out of his blabbering mouth.
“Now is that any way a son would ever treat his father.”
“Fuck you.”
“Well anyways, you see I inserted my sperm in this woman species, don’t remember her name. And she had you…”
“Where is she?” I demanded.
Jerard chuckled at my question, as if it was something far-fetched to even ask. “She is dead of course!”
“Let me get to my point. The reason I decided to even do this favor to women was because I realized how great it could benefit me as well. All of my children will be specifically programmed to be killing machines.”
“I am not going to do that.” I shouted.
“It’s not your choice.”
It isn’t. And I knew it wasn’t, so I looked around my lock and began to conjure up ways to assassinate myself because I cannot possibly fathom the idea of murdering innocent lives.
“You’ll never win Adam.”
I found it.
“Never.”
He clicked the button that had begun my transformation.
|
Edit: Wow! I didn't expect this post to blow up overnight! Thank you all for the awesome writing! | [WP] You are a 17-year-old living in a futuristic dystopian society where a fascist party rules the world. Upon turning 18, citizens are required to take a DNA test to put their genetic information on file. When you go to take yours, your genetic identity is a 100% identical to that of the dictator. | God damn do I love Saturdays. I get up no earlier than 11, put on sweatpants while I give my stuffy school uniform the evil eye, and head downstairs to gorge myself on dad’s morning buffet. “Eggs benny tomorrow, kiddo.” He told me last night with a wink and a grin. Eggs benedict do something obscene to me so he makes them for my birthday every year. I hammed up my excitement for him, shamelessly letting my “Daddy’s Girl” flag fly.
Dad’s a fantastic cook and completely self-taught. His parents were Basic Laborers, so they lived on tier 2 food allowances and he learned how to be creative with meals. You have to when your available ingredients are whole wheat bread, root vegetables, eggs, canola oil, and a maximum of 1 SynthMeat serving a week per person (Dad loves lecturing me about how good we have it on tier 5, I’ve had his old grocery list memorized since I could talk.)
I shudder to think what tier 1 rations are like. You can always tell when someone is on tier 1 and they don’t look particularly happy.
I head downstairs, slowly being greeted by the droll of High Chancellor Bowers’ morning address. I have the utmost respect for him, as one should, but he’d certainly benefit from adding a little pep in his speech. I pause, trying to give the broadcast my utmost attention. I mean, it’s one of the most important parts of our day but the waft of eau de canadian bacon behind pulls me away.
“Happy birthday my sweet, beautiful girl!” My mom’s voice almost sings like a nightingale any time she speaks and it’s quite lovely. She makes the whole “brooding teenager” vibe really difficult to maintain.
“So how’s 18 feel?” Dad swoops in with the hair tousle and cheek pinch.
“I dunno. Fine I guess? Is it supposed to feel a certain way?”
Dad laughs and sends me off to the table. I swear, my eyes were watering alongside my tongue at the sight of it all. The hollandaise is a pale yellow, clearly made scratch rather than from that weird powder stuff. I wonder how my dad managed to get the extra eggs for that.
-------------------------------
“Astrid darling, could you go grab the mail while I wash the dishes? I’m sure you’ve got some cards in there.” I nod with a muffled “*mhhm*” courtesy of the almost whole english muffin in my face.
It’s sunny today. So warm too. Everything feels so… relaxed. Like the way only a Saturday can feel. I bring in the mail, wondering why this sleek looking box is addressed to me. Return address: Health Authority Citizen Register.
Fuck. I hate needles.
My pinhole focus on my displeasure is interrupted by my mother letting out her world famous “tut”.
“My goodness, I can’t believe this showed up so late! Can you imagine the fine if we hadn’t been able to submit today? My cousin Martha was lazy with hers and they downgraded her family to a tier 2 house for an entire year! That place was unbearable.”
Stupid DNA registry. Can’t they swab my cheek? Process some hair? Rip off a toenail? This is bullshit.
Did I mention I hate needles?
We powered on the small tablet provided and a soothing AI voice spoke.
“Greetings. Please place the sample in the right hand tray. You will be processed and registered immediately.”
I clenched my fist, shut my eyes, and did my best to rotate my head 90 degrees while dad pricked my fingertip. It actually didn’t hurt but I had to justify my prior overreaction so I gave a dramatic little yelp before pressing my finger to the glass tray.
“Thank you. Your sample is being processed.”
I don’t know why, but we sat and watched the little tablet while it whirred away. The AI was silent and the screen blank for a good 30 seconds. Then, suddenly:
ERROR.
My father scowled. ”Damn thing. This is why we oughta have people do this like they did when I registered.”
The AI started speaking. I wonder if he offended it?
“I’m sorry, but it appears this sample has already been registered. Please provide a sample from ASTRID INGRAM.”
My mother huffed, “That WAS Astrid’s sample. Can you run it again?”
“Your sample is being processed.”
Tuts and huffs abound.
“I’m sorry, but it appears this sample belongs to HIGH CHANCELLOR JOHNATHAN BOWERS. Please provide a sample for ASTRID INGRAM.”
I nearly choked on my own spit. “What? That’s absurd. Dad what is wrong with this tablet?”
I look up from the screen and my father was halfway across the house, scrambling to throw his sneakers on. “Astrid, get some shoes on and go to the backyard.”
I stared at him and my stomach dropped. My father was… scared. The whole world seemed to pause and I couldn’t move. I’d never seen this before.
“NOW!”
I shot up, bolted for my flip-flops, and threw open the back door with dad at my heels. He grabbed me by the elbow and led me to the overgrown blackberry bush in the corner. He reached through the mass of thorny branches, muttering curses as they shredded his forearm. He started fumbling around with some strange piece of black metal on the fencing. He had something in his hand that looked like a key.
*”Only military personnel have keys.”* Even in my head, the thought was a whisper.
“Dad, what is that thing?”
“It’s a lock. George made it for me.”
“…you mean neighbor George? The veteran? Since when does he talk to anyone?”
“We don’t have time Astrid, we have to go.”
Dad swung the fence open and started sprinting into the woods behind our house, pulling me with him. We ran for miles, my shins burned and the heat of the afternoon was unbearable. Have you ever sprinted in flip-flops? Some footwear suggestions would have been nice, dad.
We finally stopped at the wall that surrounded our town, 50 feet high with empty, decrepit guard towers to my right and left.
“They haven’t had personnel on this section of the wall for years,” my dad explained. He got on his hands and knees and started pulling at some rocks. Within moments, he cleared the pile to reveal a hole than ran through the wall straight to the other side.
I started crying. I couldn’t help it. What was going on? Why did they say my blood sample belonged to the High Chancellor? Why was my dad so terrified?
He pulled me in for a hug, a hug I hadn’t felt since the time I returned from a 3-month summer camp.
“Astrid, you need to crawl through here to the other side of-“
“Of the wall?!" I shoved him away. "I can’t just go through the wall dad, they’ll arrest me!” I was hysterical. How could he do this to me?
He grabbed me by the shoulders, his face as tear-soaked as mine. “Astrid, listen. I don’t know why your DNA matches Bowers’. I don’t know what it means, but if anything George has told me is true then you’re in serious danger and you HAVE to leave.”
“What has George told you?”
“Look, you don’t have time for me to explain. Your mother is going to report you as missing to cover our tracks any minute now. Please believe me when I say the High Chancellor, his advisors, the military, they’re not who we think they are. They’re dangerous and you have to stay away from them.”
I stared him down, I read the lines in his brow, the panic in his voice, the desperation in his eyes.
“…I believe you.”
He sighed and took a deep breath before cupping my face.
“Get on the other side and stay in the woods. Go north for as fast and long as you can. Hide at night and stay silent. Don’t trust anyone unless they tell you ‘George sends his regards.’ He'll have people waiting for you, they’ll take you somewhere safe. Promise you’ll do this.”
I swallowed as much fear and snot as I could, I put as much strength in my voice as I could muster.
“I promise.”
My dad kissed my forehead and he ushered me to the opening. I got down on my elbows and stomach and looked at my dad one more time, wondering if I’d forget his face, before I crawled my way through the wall.
**EDIT:**Hi. I haven't written anything creative in years, but I really liked this prompt so I went for it. I would love some good, honest feedback. Thank you. | My mind was in a whirlwind as I clenched the piece of paper that identified by genetic embodiment. I crumpled the slip of paper and pushed it into the pockets of my corduroy blue pants. I didn’t want anyone around me to see what was causing my utter distress. My vision began to fuzz as I thought about the pure confusion at hand: I am related to Jerard. I am related to the man that has caused the whole country of Paleen to migrate out of their homes and voyage across the barren land to find a new home. I am related to the man that has murdered millions of children for the basis of their skin color. I am related to the man that has programmed the minds of young men and women so that they may follow the pathway of Jerardism.
I latched onto my stomach, attempting to settle the oatmeal I ate in the morning and to prevent it from spilling across the linoleum floor of Estate 19. I watched Clarissa, in her ordinary navy dress run across towards me with her paper.
“It’s official: I am not adopted Adam!” she laughed.
“I honestly think this is the stupidest thing they could have put us through. Like really? Doesn’t the government already have 24-hour surveillance and footage of all our births? What more do they want from us?
“Where’s your paper Adam?” she asked me.
I could not even bare to tell her. She would never speak to me again. She would shun me for being related to the man that murdered her entire family.
I stood up and began to walk away.
“Adam!” she called after me, but I had already turned the corner of the hallway.
I reached the exit gates of the facility and stood behind every other 18 year old in this region. I waited as everyone’s identification chip was scanned before leaving the building. This chip essentially tracks our every movement. It records where we have been last and logs our physiological patterns, and our mere thoughts. That way, if one of us happens to rebel, the so-called government can track down where we were last checked in at and what our thoughts encompassed.
“Why’d you run away from me?” Clarissa asked, whilst heavily breathing from trying to find me.
“Don’t worry about it.” I said.
I stepped right up to the administrator and he waved the sensor over my left arm, where the chip was inserted. A flash of red appeared on his screen. He cleared the screen and made another attempt at scanning my chip. Red marked the computer again. Was it because I thought so badly of Jerard only recently? I looked at the bald administrator and locked eyes with him. I instantly turned around and pushed Clarissa out of my way and ran toward the other end of the hall. Sirens wailed above me and I continued to cut corners to find any alternative escape. Suddenly, I felt a slight pinch in my neck. Slowly, I began to lose consciousness and laid on the ground motionless. Why did I even think it was possible for me to escape, there’s never an escape.
***
I opened my eyes and glanced around me. Where am I? I was surrounded by a diamond ceiling and a purely marble floor. State of the art robot maids were charging in the corner.
“Hello Adam.”
I turned to my right and saw him. I saw the man that has ruined this world. I didn’t even know what to do. I just wanted to kill him. No. I wanted him to suffer. I want him to suffer worse than all the sufferings he has caused to everyone in the world. I ran towards him but realized that my movement was completely restricted by a metallic lockdown structure.
“Fuck you.” I spat at him.
“Now is that any way to treat your president?”
“Fuck you. You ain’t shit.”
I watched as he went to put his hand in his pocket. I expected him to pull out a gun and immediately kill me but he didn’t.
“So you probably know why you’re here Mr. Adam. The results were in for the genetic identification test and it appears that you are another one of my sons.”
Son? Fuck no. I will never be associated with this bastard. He is absolute shit to me. I cannot possibly be his son.
“I am not your son.”
“Oh, but you are Adam.”
How the hell could I be his son when my parents are Alicia and Tarik.
“Those aren’t your real parents.” He answered the question I conjured up in my head.
“You see Adam, in my effort to homogeneize the world, I have realized that what better way to make the world perfect than by implanting my sperm into the bodies of women.”
“You mean fucking rape you asshole.”
“No no. Not rape. I am doing them a favor by even allowing them to feel the sexual sensations outside of mating season. They got to really feel what it’s like to have power reign in their body.”
I wanted to slice off his tongue and cut out his teeth one by one out of his blabbering mouth.
“Now is that any way a son would ever treat his father.”
“Fuck you.”
“Well anyways, you see I inserted my sperm in this woman species, don’t remember her name. And she had you…”
“Where is she?” I demanded.
Jerard chuckled at my question, as if it was something far-fetched to even ask. “She is dead of course!”
“Let me get to my point. The reason I decided to even do this favor to women was because I realized how great it could benefit me as well. All of my children will be specifically programmed to be killing machines.”
“I am not going to do that.” I shouted.
“It’s not your choice.”
It isn’t. And I knew it wasn’t, so I looked around my lock and began to conjure up ways to assassinate myself because I cannot possibly fathom the idea of murdering innocent lives.
“You’ll never win Adam.”
I found it.
“Never.”
He clicked the button that had begun my transformation.
|
Edit: Wow! I didn't expect this post to blow up overnight! Thank you all for the awesome writing! | [WP] You are a 17-year-old living in a futuristic dystopian society where a fascist party rules the world. Upon turning 18, citizens are required to take a DNA test to put their genetic information on file. When you go to take yours, your genetic identity is a 100% identical to that of the dictator. | When I saw the report, I was terrified - not at the contents of the report, which had a list of suggested relatives and the percentage of heritage, but by the reaction of the lab technician who had handed it to me. He snatched it out of my hand like it was a thermite grenade and apologized profusely for handing me the wrong folder.
"What?" I sputtered, "Wh-what is this?"
The technician was already preparing a shot out of something with a red vial. Red usually meant emergencies, as in, Emergency: sedate the patient immediately.
I leapt out of the chair, but not before the syringe had already been plunged up to its hilt into my bicep.
Reality swam in and out of focus.
Brief moments happened.
Hitting the floor
A hospital bed, surrounded by lab coats
A marker, drawing on my chest
A distorted remark:
"You dumbass! You handed an organ mule his genetic report?!"
A sharp pain
Then darkness. | I withdrew my finger. The screen hummed for a few moments as I waited impatiently. I rocked on my heels, staring at the rotating 'loading' symbol.
"How long is thi-"
The screen lit up and there was a sharp "*Ting!*"
*Finally.* I looked at the screen but my eyes didn't understand. There was an image of my face, and another's beside it. Below it simply said "Identical match."
"What?" I said loudly, and put my hand on the wall beside the screen.
The guard grunted and turned, leaning over to view the screen. His jaw slowly went slack. He quickly shuffled in front of the screen, doing a double take at it and then me. He turned to face the queue behind me and raised a hand.
"This testing center is closed. Fuck off, the lot of you." He somehow grumble-yelled.
After some minutes the room was empty save for myself and the guard. He ushered out the last citizens at the door, and mumbled into his radio. The tinny conversation was short. He approached the screen again, hands on his hips, incredulous. He lifted his helmet's visor to peer at the screen again.
"What are the odds, right?" I stammered.
The guard chuckled and side-eyed me. "No it's not right, look again." He pointed to the screen. I turned to look but still saw what I originally saw.
My image.
The dictator's image.
The words "Identical ma- |
Edit: apparently this is a repost. I’m sorry I haven’t been part of this sub but for 2-3 days. This is my first post. Full credit to /u/james7919 and /u/fracati who have both posted this prompt before. Thanks for the wonderful responses. | [WP] When someone’s heart breaks, so does a little piece of our world. This creates fissures, valleys, chasms, even cracks in the pavement. Tell me the story behind the Grand Canyon. | All love cracks the earth. We see it every day; young love is ruined, your true love dies, you wake up after 25 years and realize it’s all gone. These events leave little scars on the world. Cracks in the pavement, deeper seas, even avalanches of mud or snow, depending on the type. True love causes more damage than a pet dying, breaking trust causes small earthquakes, human emotion connects to the earth so deeply we all feel it’s pain.
However, there are a few events in history that have left big scars. The brutal crusade of The Mongols created the Black Sea. The destruction of Native American land created the Mississippi River, and the Spanish destruction of the Aztec, Mayan, and Inca people separated North and South America. But there have been two stories of lost love that created some of the Natural Wonders of the world: The Grand Canyon, and Marianas Trench. However, the origin story of the Grand Canyon led to the creation of the trench, so we must start there. To understand this vast beauty we much understand the immense pain that put it there.
They say the Earth fell in love with the stars. We of course know this isn’t true, that it’s a romantic notion to over simplify a complex love story, but drama is used to show the mightiness of those who were in love. The Earth and Stars fell deeply in love and they changed the universe and brightened the sky and their love was so whole and pure the only analogy anyone could think of to explain this love was mythological. They spent their days learning and growing and loving, they had children who grew to be beautiful and smart, it was not perfect but it was pure. It was something everyone dreamed of: pure, simple, and decent love.
Now Earth was emotion. Her love and rage and passion and empathy took over the world and infiltrated Stars. Her feelings would explode and create fire in the world, but not all fire is bad. When you see the world now and the things this fire created, we know it can be good. And Earth helped the people she had devoted her life to and for years Earth was good and the stars were happy and the children grew to be moons and planets and it was what you could expect from a love story.
But then one day an asteroid hit and Earth shattered. The Grand Canyon was created from the screams of Earth who had lost so much and felt so much pain. The despair of a woman so larger than life she broke the ground into a Canyon that we look at with wonder and revel at because of the beauty. We don’t know what happened to cause her pain. Her family drops from memory and stories until Earth resurfaces alone far away from where she was meant to be. Her children sometimes come and say hello but the fires Earth would burn had long been put out. And until the creation of Marianas Trench, there was no one else large enough to create these voids. The world continued to shatter and create rivers and shake but only she could create the deep pits from her utter despair.
We don’t know who this woman was. Her life has been passed down for so long she has become nothing more than a story. She has become the Earth, because that’s the only thing left to remember her, and her pain. When humanity is gone and the world gets to rest because the heart break and pain are over the reminders of these scars will still be there. And though most of these scars are small and routine, Earth’s Grand Canyon will always be visible to the stars. | She was beautiful. She looked a lot like her mother, but she had my eyes. But those furrowed brows were her mothers through and through. She had made that same face when she was angry with me and now it was reflected in my daughter. I was glad she came to visit me every night. The craters that were formed in the passing of her mother were plain to see on her physical surface. Her astral form, however, showed none of her sadness. Oh, but her anger, that was easy to see.
"My love, please don't do this. I miss her too, but even you have to admit its futile. She's dead, Diana. She's not coming back."
Even just saying it caused a tremmor on my surface and created a new fault beneath the surface. I was good at hiding my pain. Diana didn't need to see that. She needed me to be strong for the both of us.
"You don't know that. She could be out there. We just have to be patient."
"No. Accept it. She wouldn't want you to hold on. It just prolongs the pain."
Diana was refusing to meet my gaze now, so I put my finger under her chin.
"Hey. Hey sweetheart. You know I love you right?"
She was silent for a long moment. "I hate you." She uttered as she turned both her astral and physical forms away from me. In a way, I was glad, because I wouldn't have been able to hide the pain that had formed in that terrible moment. |
Edit: apparently this is a repost. I’m sorry I haven’t been part of this sub but for 2-3 days. This is my first post. Full credit to /u/james7919 and /u/fracati who have both posted this prompt before. Thanks for the wonderful responses. | [WP] When someone’s heart breaks, so does a little piece of our world. This creates fissures, valleys, chasms, even cracks in the pavement. Tell me the story behind the Grand Canyon. | I wrote a poem based off of this (tell me what you think?)
Didn't you know that I was a city of
mountains of sand? That, I was full of
glass sand, and quartz, and volcanic
sand and garnet sand, and sometimes
I would hold some garnet if I was feeling motherly.
All of what I felt and want to feel held us all together
and the wind would move slowly through me
like a filtering process, it would move through me
as if I was made of 1,000 different holes and
it whispered how much it was glad I was there.
"I need to slow down sometimes too, you know."
Some grains left my belly to twist and turn
in its soft and heavy carpet body. I know.
Didn't you know that I wanted so much love, too?
My presence is large but delicate, the way that
my grains would fall and I would have to
sit upright, find ways to reject the wind.
Although I loved the wind for all it was
whether I could see it or just feel it,
I felt romantic to the wind but the wind, could
finish me. One harsh blow and I would be gone.
What kind of love is this? I can't keep rejecting
but it seems that is where it's going or else
I go smaller, under the blindness of the love
of the wind. Wind gusts. Wind gusts.
My sand mountain me is was slowly leaving --
I couldn't forgive the wind this time and
I started to crack. "Why are you doing this?"
"Sometimes, I turn into a storm. It's only natural."
I feel the garnet, the quartz, that glass sands of me
being whispered away, in frantic whispers,
"Where will we go? What will you look like?"
I didn't know. The wind turned into a storm.
I became a carpeted sandstorm, my city-like
presence became cavities and stones, all brushing off
the tips of the mountains that were within me that
perhaps I never trusted to be on their own.
I couldn't believe how hollow I'd become. Stop,
I kept begging the wind to stop. Move slowly through me
again. Can you just move slowly through me like in the past?
The wind stopped, and I sat. Here I am, a beautiful disaster.
Here I am, all open, vulnerable and exhausted.
I've been stretched and ripped apart and here is
everything that has been inside of me, all of my parts
on their very own. Who knew that the Grand Canyon
could be so sad? Who knew my destruction would be
a new attraction spot? They all just look at me.
Open mouth, sunsets spill inside of me but, yet
I will always just wake up alone and unlike myself.
| She was beautiful. She looked a lot like her mother, but she had my eyes. But those furrowed brows were her mothers through and through. She had made that same face when she was angry with me and now it was reflected in my daughter. I was glad she came to visit me every night. The craters that were formed in the passing of her mother were plain to see on her physical surface. Her astral form, however, showed none of her sadness. Oh, but her anger, that was easy to see.
"My love, please don't do this. I miss her too, but even you have to admit its futile. She's dead, Diana. She's not coming back."
Even just saying it caused a tremmor on my surface and created a new fault beneath the surface. I was good at hiding my pain. Diana didn't need to see that. She needed me to be strong for the both of us.
"You don't know that. She could be out there. We just have to be patient."
"No. Accept it. She wouldn't want you to hold on. It just prolongs the pain."
Diana was refusing to meet my gaze now, so I put my finger under her chin.
"Hey. Hey sweetheart. You know I love you right?"
She was silent for a long moment. "I hate you." She uttered as she turned both her astral and physical forms away from me. In a way, I was glad, because I wouldn't have been able to hide the pain that had formed in that terrible moment. |
Edit: apparently this is a repost. I’m sorry I haven’t been part of this sub but for 2-3 days. This is my first post. Full credit to /u/james7919 and /u/fracati who have both posted this prompt before. Thanks for the wonderful responses. | [WP] When someone’s heart breaks, so does a little piece of our world. This creates fissures, valleys, chasms, even cracks in the pavement. Tell me the story behind the Grand Canyon. | As a kid, I had always been warned about feeling too much emotion. “Happiness often comes at another person’s expense,” My father had told me, ”and sadness… is contagious. Regret and bitterness spread like wildfires. And heartbreak… heartbreak kills.”
It wasn’t until my teenage years that I began to understand exactly what he meant. When I was 13, I met a girl. Now, I’m sure you’ve heard the story. Guy meets girl. Guy falls for girl. They live happily ever after… Or, something. In my case, it was the “or something.” I’ll spare you the details. The earth would shake as my tears fell upon it. Thunder would echo my curses. Each clenched fist was another fracture in the ground.
Three years later, I had my “not-so-sweet” 16th. I thought I had steadily been building myself back up to be better. To be wiser. To be stronger. At that point in my life, I had not yet isolated myself from the world. But I learned that day that life was not up to me; the world had isolated itself from me. One by one, I learned I wasn’t worth my friends’ time. Each text was a stab in the gut. Each text was Fuck-point-You magnitude earthquake.
I kept it together, though. No one was hurt. And no one was ever going to be hurt on account of me. I might be crashing and burning, but that didn’t mean I had to take others with me. That was the plan, anyway. And, if you couldn’t tell by now, my plans have a history of failing.
I met another girl. No, it wasn’t like that! Well, at least not initially. For what seemed like ever, she was my only friend. We would talk into the hours of the morning, sharing hopes and dreams, and making wishes on stars that were already dead. I told myself that everything was going to be ok. I believed my own lie.
We started to drift apart. She had other priorities, and I had… respect for those other priorities. My previously earned scars on my heart had not yet faded, however, and I feared being alone once more. I took a risk, saying some things that - in hindsight - I really shouldn’t have. I accelerated the drift, until I was once more all alone.
Now, I know what you’re thinking, “You created the Grand Canyon over some girl? Overreacting much?” I mean, long story short, I guess you could say that. Though that’s not exactly what went down.
I swear it was an accident. It was just one lapse in judgement, just one moment of weakness. One moment, however, was all it took. It wasn’t even that big of a deal - it was barely a tremor. On any given day, a toddler's tantrum could cause more damage.
Unfortunately, that was not any given day. That was the day that my brother was window washing one of those corporate skyscrapers. My “barely a tremor” was enough to make him “barely lose his balance.” He plummeted over 300 meters. The doctors said he died instantly. The doctors said that I shouldn’t be sorry, that these things happens. That losing your balance was a way of life around here.
Bull. Fucking. Shit.
I just killed my brother. And there was no going back from that. My heart sank, and it took with it the neighboring town. I watched in horror as I inadvertently took thousands of lives. With each swallowed house, guilt clawed even further into my soul. The canyon spread like a wildfire during a dry spell. I couldn’t stop the cycle.
My damage had reached the horizon. The whole city was gone. I couldn’t save it.
But you already know that. You already know I’m directly responsible for the deaths of millions of people. I’m sorry. I really am. I broke the only promise I ever made myself: that I wouldn’t drag anyone else into my problems. In doing so, I killed everyone I had ever known.
But perhaps I can still save you. Perhaps I can curb the destruction. If the heart stops beating, it can’t continue to break. At least, I hope that’s the case. I guess you’ll find out soon enough.
***
I’m writing this letter with the hope that it is never found. If you do find this, let it serve as a warning. Turn back now. For surely one look into the abyss is all that it will take to break your heart. And if I’ve learned anything, it’s that heartbreak kills. | She was beautiful. She looked a lot like her mother, but she had my eyes. But those furrowed brows were her mothers through and through. She had made that same face when she was angry with me and now it was reflected in my daughter. I was glad she came to visit me every night. The craters that were formed in the passing of her mother were plain to see on her physical surface. Her astral form, however, showed none of her sadness. Oh, but her anger, that was easy to see.
"My love, please don't do this. I miss her too, but even you have to admit its futile. She's dead, Diana. She's not coming back."
Even just saying it caused a tremmor on my surface and created a new fault beneath the surface. I was good at hiding my pain. Diana didn't need to see that. She needed me to be strong for the both of us.
"You don't know that. She could be out there. We just have to be patient."
"No. Accept it. She wouldn't want you to hold on. It just prolongs the pain."
Diana was refusing to meet my gaze now, so I put my finger under her chin.
"Hey. Hey sweetheart. You know I love you right?"
She was silent for a long moment. "I hate you." She uttered as she turned both her astral and physical forms away from me. In a way, I was glad, because I wouldn't have been able to hide the pain that had formed in that terrible moment. |
Edit: apparently this is a repost. I’m sorry I haven’t been part of this sub but for 2-3 days. This is my first post. Full credit to /u/james7919 and /u/fracati who have both posted this prompt before. Thanks for the wonderful responses. | [WP] When someone’s heart breaks, so does a little piece of our world. This creates fissures, valleys, chasms, even cracks in the pavement. Tell me the story behind the Grand Canyon. | I wrote a poem based off of this (tell me what you think?)
Didn't you know that I was a city of
mountains of sand? That, I was full of
glass sand, and quartz, and volcanic
sand and garnet sand, and sometimes
I would hold some garnet if I was feeling motherly.
All of what I felt and want to feel held us all together
and the wind would move slowly through me
like a filtering process, it would move through me
as if I was made of 1,000 different holes and
it whispered how much it was glad I was there.
"I need to slow down sometimes too, you know."
Some grains left my belly to twist and turn
in its soft and heavy carpet body. I know.
Didn't you know that I wanted so much love, too?
My presence is large but delicate, the way that
my grains would fall and I would have to
sit upright, find ways to reject the wind.
Although I loved the wind for all it was
whether I could see it or just feel it,
I felt romantic to the wind but the wind, could
finish me. One harsh blow and I would be gone.
What kind of love is this? I can't keep rejecting
but it seems that is where it's going or else
I go smaller, under the blindness of the love
of the wind. Wind gusts. Wind gusts.
My sand mountain me is was slowly leaving --
I couldn't forgive the wind this time and
I started to crack. "Why are you doing this?"
"Sometimes, I turn into a storm. It's only natural."
I feel the garnet, the quartz, that glass sands of me
being whispered away, in frantic whispers,
"Where will we go? What will you look like?"
I didn't know. The wind turned into a storm.
I became a carpeted sandstorm, my city-like
presence became cavities and stones, all brushing off
the tips of the mountains that were within me that
perhaps I never trusted to be on their own.
I couldn't believe how hollow I'd become. Stop,
I kept begging the wind to stop. Move slowly through me
again. Can you just move slowly through me like in the past?
The wind stopped, and I sat. Here I am, a beautiful disaster.
Here I am, all open, vulnerable and exhausted.
I've been stretched and ripped apart and here is
everything that has been inside of me, all of my parts
on their very own. Who knew that the Grand Canyon
could be so sad? Who knew my destruction would be
a new attraction spot? They all just look at me.
Open mouth, sunsets spill inside of me but, yet
I will always just wake up alone and unlike myself.
| Alexander looks in confusion and worry as he watches Alice, his best friend lay on the hospital bed, pale and unmoving next to a weird beeping thing. Alice was his best friend and got really sick, he visited Alice a lot but lately he wasn't allowed to, because his parents got scared that he'd get sick too, but now he'd been allowed to go the hospital to see Alice. When he got there Alice's parents were crying so his parents went out with them to make them feel better, leaving Alexander and Alice in the room.
"Alice?" The young boy asks worriedly reaching out to grab the equally small but cold hands of the young girl, "Hey Alice, are you ok?"
Alice's eyes flutter open and with a groan she turns to look at Alexander, "Hi Alex," she groans with a croaky voice, "I'm okay I just feel really cold".
Alexander panics before grabbing Alice's hands, "Don't worry Alice! I'm here now so everything will be ok! I'll brings lots of ice cream and snacks until you feel better and then we can play again."
Alice barely seems to acknowledge this but squeezes Alexander's hands back, "You're hands are really warm Alex, I feel really cold."
"I missed you too!" bursts Alexander, "I wanted to visit but mom and dad said I couldn't! But I'm here and got you something to make you feel better!"
With that Alexander digs into his pockets and brings out a cookie wrapped in foil, "Here!" Alexander cheers and puts the cookie in Alice's other hand, "It'c chocolate chip, your favorite!"
Alice clenches the chocolate chip in her hands and weakly smiles, "Oh, thanks Alex, I really miss eating chocolate chip."
Alice then nods and weakly turns towards Alexander, "Hey Alex, you're my best friend right!"
Alexander nods vigorously and smiles, "Of course Alice! We're best friends forever!"
Alice sniffles and turns to look back up at the ceiling, "Hey Alex, what would you do if I went away? Would you be mad at me?"
Alexander shakes his head vigorously, "No way! We're best friends we'll always be right? So even if you went away we'll always be friends!"
Alice sighs in relief and smiles before turning back to Alexander with tears in her eyes, "That makes me really glad Alex, I'd really hate it if you were mad at me."
Alexander panics at seeing Alice cry, "Alice? What's wrong why are you crying? Are you really okay?"
Alice sniffs at squeezes Alexander's hand, "I'm really happy to see you Alex, I was really lonely here and I really missed you."
Alexander blushes before hugging Alice, "I missed you too Alice, I hope you get better soon! I want to play with you again!"
Alice nods and leans into Alexander's shoulder and sighs, "Alex you're really warm, could you hug me a bit more? I feel really cold."
Alexander tightens his hug as he begins to cry, "Alice? You're scaring me, Alice are you okay?"
Alice's breath hitches and her heart monitor begins to beep erratically, "I'm so cold Alex, I'm scared too, please don't let go."
Alexander tightens his hug and starts to sob loudly, "Alice?" he cries as Alice slumps into him as the beeping starts becoming more and more erratic, "I won't let go Alice! I won't let go I promise!"
"Alex," Alice breathes as her eyes begin to close, "I'm really glad you're my best friend."
"Goodbye Alex."
with a last breath the heart monitor flat lines and the room is left with the worried cries of a child shaking his best friend.
Somewhere in the world the earth splits open and sounds a out a scream reminiscent of a young boy.
(ugh this feels badly written sorry) |
Edit: apparently this is a repost. I’m sorry I haven’t been part of this sub but for 2-3 days. This is my first post. Full credit to /u/james7919 and /u/fracati who have both posted this prompt before. Thanks for the wonderful responses. | [WP] When someone’s heart breaks, so does a little piece of our world. This creates fissures, valleys, chasms, even cracks in the pavement. Tell me the story behind the Grand Canyon. | As a kid, I had always been warned about feeling too much emotion. “Happiness often comes at another person’s expense,” My father had told me, ”and sadness… is contagious. Regret and bitterness spread like wildfires. And heartbreak… heartbreak kills.”
It wasn’t until my teenage years that I began to understand exactly what he meant. When I was 13, I met a girl. Now, I’m sure you’ve heard the story. Guy meets girl. Guy falls for girl. They live happily ever after… Or, something. In my case, it was the “or something.” I’ll spare you the details. The earth would shake as my tears fell upon it. Thunder would echo my curses. Each clenched fist was another fracture in the ground.
Three years later, I had my “not-so-sweet” 16th. I thought I had steadily been building myself back up to be better. To be wiser. To be stronger. At that point in my life, I had not yet isolated myself from the world. But I learned that day that life was not up to me; the world had isolated itself from me. One by one, I learned I wasn’t worth my friends’ time. Each text was a stab in the gut. Each text was Fuck-point-You magnitude earthquake.
I kept it together, though. No one was hurt. And no one was ever going to be hurt on account of me. I might be crashing and burning, but that didn’t mean I had to take others with me. That was the plan, anyway. And, if you couldn’t tell by now, my plans have a history of failing.
I met another girl. No, it wasn’t like that! Well, at least not initially. For what seemed like ever, she was my only friend. We would talk into the hours of the morning, sharing hopes and dreams, and making wishes on stars that were already dead. I told myself that everything was going to be ok. I believed my own lie.
We started to drift apart. She had other priorities, and I had… respect for those other priorities. My previously earned scars on my heart had not yet faded, however, and I feared being alone once more. I took a risk, saying some things that - in hindsight - I really shouldn’t have. I accelerated the drift, until I was once more all alone.
Now, I know what you’re thinking, “You created the Grand Canyon over some girl? Overreacting much?” I mean, long story short, I guess you could say that. Though that’s not exactly what went down.
I swear it was an accident. It was just one lapse in judgement, just one moment of weakness. One moment, however, was all it took. It wasn’t even that big of a deal - it was barely a tremor. On any given day, a toddler's tantrum could cause more damage.
Unfortunately, that was not any given day. That was the day that my brother was window washing one of those corporate skyscrapers. My “barely a tremor” was enough to make him “barely lose his balance.” He plummeted over 300 meters. The doctors said he died instantly. The doctors said that I shouldn’t be sorry, that these things happens. That losing your balance was a way of life around here.
Bull. Fucking. Shit.
I just killed my brother. And there was no going back from that. My heart sank, and it took with it the neighboring town. I watched in horror as I inadvertently took thousands of lives. With each swallowed house, guilt clawed even further into my soul. The canyon spread like a wildfire during a dry spell. I couldn’t stop the cycle.
My damage had reached the horizon. The whole city was gone. I couldn’t save it.
But you already know that. You already know I’m directly responsible for the deaths of millions of people. I’m sorry. I really am. I broke the only promise I ever made myself: that I wouldn’t drag anyone else into my problems. In doing so, I killed everyone I had ever known.
But perhaps I can still save you. Perhaps I can curb the destruction. If the heart stops beating, it can’t continue to break. At least, I hope that’s the case. I guess you’ll find out soon enough.
***
I’m writing this letter with the hope that it is never found. If you do find this, let it serve as a warning. Turn back now. For surely one look into the abyss is all that it will take to break your heart. And if I’ve learned anything, it’s that heartbreak kills. | All love cracks the earth. We see it every day; young love is ruined, your true love dies, you wake up after 25 years and realize it’s all gone. These events leave little scars on the world. Cracks in the pavement, deeper seas, even avalanches of mud or snow, depending on the type. True love causes more damage than a pet dying, breaking trust causes small earthquakes, human emotion connects to the earth so deeply we all feel it’s pain.
However, there are a few events in history that have left big scars. The brutal crusade of The Mongols created the Black Sea. The destruction of Native American land created the Mississippi River, and the Spanish destruction of the Aztec, Mayan, and Inca people separated North and South America. But there have been two stories of lost love that created some of the Natural Wonders of the world: The Grand Canyon, and Marianas Trench. However, the origin story of the Grand Canyon led to the creation of the trench, so we must start there. To understand this vast beauty we much understand the immense pain that put it there.
They say the Earth fell in love with the stars. We of course know this isn’t true, that it’s a romantic notion to over simplify a complex love story, but drama is used to show the mightiness of those who were in love. The Earth and Stars fell deeply in love and they changed the universe and brightened the sky and their love was so whole and pure the only analogy anyone could think of to explain this love was mythological. They spent their days learning and growing and loving, they had children who grew to be beautiful and smart, it was not perfect but it was pure. It was something everyone dreamed of: pure, simple, and decent love.
Now Earth was emotion. Her love and rage and passion and empathy took over the world and infiltrated Stars. Her feelings would explode and create fire in the world, but not all fire is bad. When you see the world now and the things this fire created, we know it can be good. And Earth helped the people she had devoted her life to and for years Earth was good and the stars were happy and the children grew to be moons and planets and it was what you could expect from a love story.
But then one day an asteroid hit and Earth shattered. The Grand Canyon was created from the screams of Earth who had lost so much and felt so much pain. The despair of a woman so larger than life she broke the ground into a Canyon that we look at with wonder and revel at because of the beauty. We don’t know what happened to cause her pain. Her family drops from memory and stories until Earth resurfaces alone far away from where she was meant to be. Her children sometimes come and say hello but the fires Earth would burn had long been put out. And until the creation of Marianas Trench, there was no one else large enough to create these voids. The world continued to shatter and create rivers and shake but only she could create the deep pits from her utter despair.
We don’t know who this woman was. Her life has been passed down for so long she has become nothing more than a story. She has become the Earth, because that’s the only thing left to remember her, and her pain. When humanity is gone and the world gets to rest because the heart break and pain are over the reminders of these scars will still be there. And though most of these scars are small and routine, Earth’s Grand Canyon will always be visible to the stars. |
Edit: apparently this is a repost. I’m sorry I haven’t been part of this sub but for 2-3 days. This is my first post. Full credit to /u/james7919 and /u/fracati who have both posted this prompt before. Thanks for the wonderful responses. | [WP] When someone’s heart breaks, so does a little piece of our world. This creates fissures, valleys, chasms, even cracks in the pavement. Tell me the story behind the Grand Canyon. | Listen closely, child, and I will tell you a story of love and loss so powerful that it shaped the very ground we walk upon. Listen closely, child, and pay attention.
Long ago, when the Earth was young, Mother Nature walked alone on the planet. She was beautiful and she was kind, but she had no others to keep her company. Where she walked she transformed the ground, and life sprung up beneath her feet. When she went to swim around in the ocean, fish and seaweed were born into the waters. Wherever she went, she spread life.
But for all the life that she spread, she could never meet her equal. She made fish and rodents and plants and bugs, but nothing that could remove her from her loneliness. She spent her days wandering, and when the night came, she slept in the inky blackness, with only the stars overhead. For you see, when the Earth was young, the nights were long and dark.
One day, as Mother Nature wandered along, she heard a loud call from up above. It was not one of her birds, born of her song, but something new. She looked up quickly, and saw a woman falling from the sky.
When the woman fell, the Earth broke. As she hit the ground, it shattered, breaking apart into huge, drifting pieces with the force and fury of the blow. Mother nature hurried to the fallen woman's side. She had never seen another woman before, and now was curious to see what kind of life this new woman would produce.
The fallen woman was beautiful. Her hair was silver and white, and it shone with a reflective luster. As Mother Nature approached her, she saw that the woman was crying, tears falling shamelessly from her face. This upset Mother Nature, and she stepped forward to comfort the woman.
"Beautiful woman, fallen from the sky, why do you cry so? We are special and different from other life, able to understand and create, and we have found each other. Should we not be happy in each other's company?"
The woman replied, and she said to Mother Earth, "I am Moon, and I have lost so much. I was travelling through beauty, through limitless stars, until this rocky prison got in my way and I fell. I have been stripped of my home in the stars, and I fear I may not be able to return, and this is why I cry."
Mother Nature laughed. "Fear not, Moon. I am Mother Nature, and you have found yourself somewhere beautiful. Look, see the wonders that this planet has to offer." And she held out a hand, and life came forth. Plants, animals, bugs, fish; all rushed forth from Mother Nature, and Moon watched in awe.
"I have never seen life before," Moon said, "not in all of my travels. What is this strange power?"
"This is the power of the Earth," Mother Nature replied. "The Earth produces beautiful things, wonderful things that cannot be produced anywhere else; and now it has produced you, the most beautiful of all. Will you not stay with me for a while?"
Moon was taken in by Mother Nature's kind words, and she marveled at the life that surrounded her. She decided to stay, and to see what life unfolded before her. And for a time, the two of them were happy.
During the day, Mother Nature would show Moon the wonders of life. She would make small animals, or fragrant flowers, and they enjoyed each other's company, as each found the other immeasurably beautiful. But things were not perfect.
At night, Moon could see the endless stars above her, calling out for her to return home to their grasp. She felt trapped on Earth, so full of life but ultimately constraining. She yearned for the infinite reaches of the cosmos.
Eventually, a night came when Moon couldn't take it anymore. She rose from where she slept beside Mother Nature, and did her best not to wake her. While Mother Nature slept, Moon began to rise away from Earth.
But life on Earth is not still, and even while Mother Nature slept, there was life keeping watch. A passing owl saw Moon rising, and quickly roused Mother Nature to warn her. Mother nature looked skyward and wailed in despair, seeing her beloved fallen woman leaving her. She quickly leaped into the air, and caught hold of a strand of Moon's hair.
Moon yelled in turn, but kept rising. As she rose, Mother Nature fell, and she pulled Moon's hair with her, stretching longer and longer as they moved apart. Desperate to keep Moon tethered to Earth, Mother Nature quickly tied the strand of Moon's hair to the Earth. With it secured, she called back up to Moon.
"Moon! Why are you leaving me? Do you not love me and my life?"
Moon squirmed in agony, still rising in spite of her hair being tied down. As she rose, she began to unravel, all of her body being slowly consumed to feed into the growing string of hair that connected her to Earth. Her toes, then her feet, then her ankles all began to disappear. "I do not belong here, Mother Nature! I am a creature of the cosmos, of space and travel! Let me go, I beg of you! I must return to the stars!"
But Mother Nature shook her head. "No," she said, "I cannot let you go. I love you, and there are none others like you. If you loved me, you would do the same."
"I do love you," Moon called down, "but I do not belong here. Please, please let me go. My love for you will only bring me pain." Already, Moon was unraveling more and more to lengthen her tether. She was drawn to space, and she could not help but strive for it, even as it destroyed her.
And Mother Nature sobbed, and felt deep regret for what she had done. She went to the thread of hair that connected Moon to the Earth, and with a mighty slash, she severed the strand. She looked up for a last look of her beautiful Moon, tears in her eyes for the first time.
But Moon was no longer rising. She hovered far above the Earth, not close enough to be with Mother Nature, but not truly in space, and a sense of horror washed over her. She had given up too much of her form to lengthen the tether, and now there was not enough of her left to propel herself into space. She let out a primal cry, and it echoed down to the Earth below.
When Mother Nature heard her beloved Moon crying, she realized what she had done. Her beloved Moon was trapped, unable to ever return to her home, and unable to spend the rest of time down on Earth with Mother Nature. Mother Nature's heart broke, and she collapsed to the ground. Where she fell, the very Earth rent itself with her despair, and a great crevasse formed, a scar in the Earth large enough to be a testament to her pain.
From that day forward, Moon was trapped between Earth and Space, forever floating in between. So angry was she with Mother Nature, that she vowed to never look at her again. She turned to face the cosmos, and Mother Nature could only ever look up and see Moon's back, forever turned to face the planet that had trapped her.
Mother Nature, devastated, cried and cried until her tears bulged out the oceans. Even her tears strained to reach Moon, and to this day, the ocean reached up to be closer to Moon when she passes overhead.
By the time Mother Nature stopped crying, it was night. But as she looked around, she realized it was a night like she had never seen before. In place of inky blackness, a pale light shone down on Earth, illuminating the world through the darkness. Mother Nature looked up, and she saw Moon casting down a silvery glow of light, forever present in the darkness.
Even when they were apart, Moon could not help but share her nights with Mother Nature, and Mother Nature could not help but stare at Moon and admire her beauty. They remain that way to this day, with Moon locked in the sky, but casting down her presence to share with Mother Nature every night.
This is the story of Mother Nature and Moon, child. Remember it well. Some may say that it would have been better for Mother Nature to have let Moon go, and others will say that Moon is at fault, for wanting to leave despite Mother Earth's love. I say to remember that even after Mother Earth hurt her, Moon still casts down her light—because she still loves Mother Earth, even if her mistakes can't be fixed. She still loves Mother Earth, even though she was hurt. She still loves Mother Earth, because Moon is not from Earth, and she carried with her to Earth the greatest gift in the cosmos.
Forgiveness, child.
*****
**Obligatory 'I just woke up and where did this gold come from' edit**: Thank you for the gold, wow! I'm glad so many people enjoyed the response.
[This is where I would link to a subreddit dedicated to my writing](http://78.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_mcmlheP9MC1qg13id.jpg), but instead I'll just say that I'll be responding to more writing prompts in the future and that I'm working on something much, much longer when I'm not busy browsing Reddit. Stay tuned.
u/HighWizardOrren | I don't know why this happens, I know not of how it does, but what i do know is that it has happened for many years, even during B.C.
Fissures, cracks, even earthquakes were made by heartbreak, scientists and the government realised this and tried to minimise the amount of heartbreak in this world by preventing dating at young ages. It. Did. Not. **WORK**.
The grand canyon, some say it was the work of gods, some natural causes, but most believe it was heartbreak. History has brought many stories to our modern lives, ones with heartbreak and happiness.
Flip a page on a History book and there is at least one tragedy. From Lincoln's Death all the way to the Florida school shooting. The past has made the pain.
1844-1846: Potato failure, famine, death, cries of family members towards the lost.
1066: William the conquerer, hunting down his enemies resulted in the burning of homes and towns. Death was in the air, worry was teeming and sorrows were sung.
It doesn't stop here. Columbine, JFK, 9/11, all of these events happened and the Grand Canyon has just slowly been getting deeper, it is like a bank of sadness and it will keep collecting.
So this is it, what the world tells as a wonder, is actually a chasm of pain. Dating and Death, Kidnaps and Scams. Heartbreak is causing fissures and no one knows when the next giant abyss will form... |
Edit: apparently this is a repost. I’m sorry I haven’t been part of this sub but for 2-3 days. This is my first post. Full credit to /u/james7919 and /u/fracati who have both posted this prompt before. Thanks for the wonderful responses. | [WP] When someone’s heart breaks, so does a little piece of our world. This creates fissures, valleys, chasms, even cracks in the pavement. Tell me the story behind the Grand Canyon. | Listen closely, child, and I will tell you a story of love and loss so powerful that it shaped the very ground we walk upon. Listen closely, child, and pay attention.
Long ago, when the Earth was young, Mother Nature walked alone on the planet. She was beautiful and she was kind, but she had no others to keep her company. Where she walked she transformed the ground, and life sprung up beneath her feet. When she went to swim around in the ocean, fish and seaweed were born into the waters. Wherever she went, she spread life.
But for all the life that she spread, she could never meet her equal. She made fish and rodents and plants and bugs, but nothing that could remove her from her loneliness. She spent her days wandering, and when the night came, she slept in the inky blackness, with only the stars overhead. For you see, when the Earth was young, the nights were long and dark.
One day, as Mother Nature wandered along, she heard a loud call from up above. It was not one of her birds, born of her song, but something new. She looked up quickly, and saw a woman falling from the sky.
When the woman fell, the Earth broke. As she hit the ground, it shattered, breaking apart into huge, drifting pieces with the force and fury of the blow. Mother nature hurried to the fallen woman's side. She had never seen another woman before, and now was curious to see what kind of life this new woman would produce.
The fallen woman was beautiful. Her hair was silver and white, and it shone with a reflective luster. As Mother Nature approached her, she saw that the woman was crying, tears falling shamelessly from her face. This upset Mother Nature, and she stepped forward to comfort the woman.
"Beautiful woman, fallen from the sky, why do you cry so? We are special and different from other life, able to understand and create, and we have found each other. Should we not be happy in each other's company?"
The woman replied, and she said to Mother Earth, "I am Moon, and I have lost so much. I was travelling through beauty, through limitless stars, until this rocky prison got in my way and I fell. I have been stripped of my home in the stars, and I fear I may not be able to return, and this is why I cry."
Mother Nature laughed. "Fear not, Moon. I am Mother Nature, and you have found yourself somewhere beautiful. Look, see the wonders that this planet has to offer." And she held out a hand, and life came forth. Plants, animals, bugs, fish; all rushed forth from Mother Nature, and Moon watched in awe.
"I have never seen life before," Moon said, "not in all of my travels. What is this strange power?"
"This is the power of the Earth," Mother Nature replied. "The Earth produces beautiful things, wonderful things that cannot be produced anywhere else; and now it has produced you, the most beautiful of all. Will you not stay with me for a while?"
Moon was taken in by Mother Nature's kind words, and she marveled at the life that surrounded her. She decided to stay, and to see what life unfolded before her. And for a time, the two of them were happy.
During the day, Mother Nature would show Moon the wonders of life. She would make small animals, or fragrant flowers, and they enjoyed each other's company, as each found the other immeasurably beautiful. But things were not perfect.
At night, Moon could see the endless stars above her, calling out for her to return home to their grasp. She felt trapped on Earth, so full of life but ultimately constraining. She yearned for the infinite reaches of the cosmos.
Eventually, a night came when Moon couldn't take it anymore. She rose from where she slept beside Mother Nature, and did her best not to wake her. While Mother Nature slept, Moon began to rise away from Earth.
But life on Earth is not still, and even while Mother Nature slept, there was life keeping watch. A passing owl saw Moon rising, and quickly roused Mother Nature to warn her. Mother nature looked skyward and wailed in despair, seeing her beloved fallen woman leaving her. She quickly leaped into the air, and caught hold of a strand of Moon's hair.
Moon yelled in turn, but kept rising. As she rose, Mother Nature fell, and she pulled Moon's hair with her, stretching longer and longer as they moved apart. Desperate to keep Moon tethered to Earth, Mother Nature quickly tied the strand of Moon's hair to the Earth. With it secured, she called back up to Moon.
"Moon! Why are you leaving me? Do you not love me and my life?"
Moon squirmed in agony, still rising in spite of her hair being tied down. As she rose, she began to unravel, all of her body being slowly consumed to feed into the growing string of hair that connected her to Earth. Her toes, then her feet, then her ankles all began to disappear. "I do not belong here, Mother Nature! I am a creature of the cosmos, of space and travel! Let me go, I beg of you! I must return to the stars!"
But Mother Nature shook her head. "No," she said, "I cannot let you go. I love you, and there are none others like you. If you loved me, you would do the same."
"I do love you," Moon called down, "but I do not belong here. Please, please let me go. My love for you will only bring me pain." Already, Moon was unraveling more and more to lengthen her tether. She was drawn to space, and she could not help but strive for it, even as it destroyed her.
And Mother Nature sobbed, and felt deep regret for what she had done. She went to the thread of hair that connected Moon to the Earth, and with a mighty slash, she severed the strand. She looked up for a last look of her beautiful Moon, tears in her eyes for the first time.
But Moon was no longer rising. She hovered far above the Earth, not close enough to be with Mother Nature, but not truly in space, and a sense of horror washed over her. She had given up too much of her form to lengthen the tether, and now there was not enough of her left to propel herself into space. She let out a primal cry, and it echoed down to the Earth below.
When Mother Nature heard her beloved Moon crying, she realized what she had done. Her beloved Moon was trapped, unable to ever return to her home, and unable to spend the rest of time down on Earth with Mother Nature. Mother Nature's heart broke, and she collapsed to the ground. Where she fell, the very Earth rent itself with her despair, and a great crevasse formed, a scar in the Earth large enough to be a testament to her pain.
From that day forward, Moon was trapped between Earth and Space, forever floating in between. So angry was she with Mother Nature, that she vowed to never look at her again. She turned to face the cosmos, and Mother Nature could only ever look up and see Moon's back, forever turned to face the planet that had trapped her.
Mother Nature, devastated, cried and cried until her tears bulged out the oceans. Even her tears strained to reach Moon, and to this day, the ocean reached up to be closer to Moon when she passes overhead.
By the time Mother Nature stopped crying, it was night. But as she looked around, she realized it was a night like she had never seen before. In place of inky blackness, a pale light shone down on Earth, illuminating the world through the darkness. Mother Nature looked up, and she saw Moon casting down a silvery glow of light, forever present in the darkness.
Even when they were apart, Moon could not help but share her nights with Mother Nature, and Mother Nature could not help but stare at Moon and admire her beauty. They remain that way to this day, with Moon locked in the sky, but casting down her presence to share with Mother Nature every night.
This is the story of Mother Nature and Moon, child. Remember it well. Some may say that it would have been better for Mother Nature to have let Moon go, and others will say that Moon is at fault, for wanting to leave despite Mother Earth's love. I say to remember that even after Mother Earth hurt her, Moon still casts down her light—because she still loves Mother Earth, even if her mistakes can't be fixed. She still loves Mother Earth, even though she was hurt. She still loves Mother Earth, because Moon is not from Earth, and she carried with her to Earth the greatest gift in the cosmos.
Forgiveness, child.
*****
**Obligatory 'I just woke up and where did this gold come from' edit**: Thank you for the gold, wow! I'm glad so many people enjoyed the response.
[This is where I would link to a subreddit dedicated to my writing](http://78.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_mcmlheP9MC1qg13id.jpg), but instead I'll just say that I'll be responding to more writing prompts in the future and that I'm working on something much, much longer when I'm not busy browsing Reddit. Stay tuned.
u/HighWizardOrren | He saw her
She stood meekly behind her mistress
He soon began to notice her at every gathering
She was sunshine, she was bright
She was kind but he was not
A man of his stature, a man of power
It was wrong for him to fall for one of her colour
He kept it quiet
And stole silent gazes and glances
And then she fell in love
Not for him but for his brother
He watched as his brother broke off his ties
Gave up his land, gave up his power
All for her
He made it hard for them
Threw difficulties at them
One day when he thought he broke them he walked in to see his brother in her arms
It hurt
And when his brother lost his leg
He offered assistance
But she had to be sold to him
He treated her as the slave she was supposed to be
But she would smile only at his brother
One day enraged he took her
Humiliated her and threw her out
She was broken
Her light was gone
A few months later
And she drowned herself
His brother died of a broken heart
He saw them both being taken
Three graves were made
And he carried on
No one knew of his grief for he hid it away buried it beneath the ground.
|
Edit: apparently this is a repost. I’m sorry I haven’t been part of this sub but for 2-3 days. This is my first post. Full credit to /u/james7919 and /u/fracati who have both posted this prompt before. Thanks for the wonderful responses. | [WP] When someone’s heart breaks, so does a little piece of our world. This creates fissures, valleys, chasms, even cracks in the pavement. Tell me the story behind the Grand Canyon. | Listen closely, child, and I will tell you a story of love and loss so powerful that it shaped the very ground we walk upon. Listen closely, child, and pay attention.
Long ago, when the Earth was young, Mother Nature walked alone on the planet. She was beautiful and she was kind, but she had no others to keep her company. Where she walked she transformed the ground, and life sprung up beneath her feet. When she went to swim around in the ocean, fish and seaweed were born into the waters. Wherever she went, she spread life.
But for all the life that she spread, she could never meet her equal. She made fish and rodents and plants and bugs, but nothing that could remove her from her loneliness. She spent her days wandering, and when the night came, she slept in the inky blackness, with only the stars overhead. For you see, when the Earth was young, the nights were long and dark.
One day, as Mother Nature wandered along, she heard a loud call from up above. It was not one of her birds, born of her song, but something new. She looked up quickly, and saw a woman falling from the sky.
When the woman fell, the Earth broke. As she hit the ground, it shattered, breaking apart into huge, drifting pieces with the force and fury of the blow. Mother nature hurried to the fallen woman's side. She had never seen another woman before, and now was curious to see what kind of life this new woman would produce.
The fallen woman was beautiful. Her hair was silver and white, and it shone with a reflective luster. As Mother Nature approached her, she saw that the woman was crying, tears falling shamelessly from her face. This upset Mother Nature, and she stepped forward to comfort the woman.
"Beautiful woman, fallen from the sky, why do you cry so? We are special and different from other life, able to understand and create, and we have found each other. Should we not be happy in each other's company?"
The woman replied, and she said to Mother Earth, "I am Moon, and I have lost so much. I was travelling through beauty, through limitless stars, until this rocky prison got in my way and I fell. I have been stripped of my home in the stars, and I fear I may not be able to return, and this is why I cry."
Mother Nature laughed. "Fear not, Moon. I am Mother Nature, and you have found yourself somewhere beautiful. Look, see the wonders that this planet has to offer." And she held out a hand, and life came forth. Plants, animals, bugs, fish; all rushed forth from Mother Nature, and Moon watched in awe.
"I have never seen life before," Moon said, "not in all of my travels. What is this strange power?"
"This is the power of the Earth," Mother Nature replied. "The Earth produces beautiful things, wonderful things that cannot be produced anywhere else; and now it has produced you, the most beautiful of all. Will you not stay with me for a while?"
Moon was taken in by Mother Nature's kind words, and she marveled at the life that surrounded her. She decided to stay, and to see what life unfolded before her. And for a time, the two of them were happy.
During the day, Mother Nature would show Moon the wonders of life. She would make small animals, or fragrant flowers, and they enjoyed each other's company, as each found the other immeasurably beautiful. But things were not perfect.
At night, Moon could see the endless stars above her, calling out for her to return home to their grasp. She felt trapped on Earth, so full of life but ultimately constraining. She yearned for the infinite reaches of the cosmos.
Eventually, a night came when Moon couldn't take it anymore. She rose from where she slept beside Mother Nature, and did her best not to wake her. While Mother Nature slept, Moon began to rise away from Earth.
But life on Earth is not still, and even while Mother Nature slept, there was life keeping watch. A passing owl saw Moon rising, and quickly roused Mother Nature to warn her. Mother nature looked skyward and wailed in despair, seeing her beloved fallen woman leaving her. She quickly leaped into the air, and caught hold of a strand of Moon's hair.
Moon yelled in turn, but kept rising. As she rose, Mother Nature fell, and she pulled Moon's hair with her, stretching longer and longer as they moved apart. Desperate to keep Moon tethered to Earth, Mother Nature quickly tied the strand of Moon's hair to the Earth. With it secured, she called back up to Moon.
"Moon! Why are you leaving me? Do you not love me and my life?"
Moon squirmed in agony, still rising in spite of her hair being tied down. As she rose, she began to unravel, all of her body being slowly consumed to feed into the growing string of hair that connected her to Earth. Her toes, then her feet, then her ankles all began to disappear. "I do not belong here, Mother Nature! I am a creature of the cosmos, of space and travel! Let me go, I beg of you! I must return to the stars!"
But Mother Nature shook her head. "No," she said, "I cannot let you go. I love you, and there are none others like you. If you loved me, you would do the same."
"I do love you," Moon called down, "but I do not belong here. Please, please let me go. My love for you will only bring me pain." Already, Moon was unraveling more and more to lengthen her tether. She was drawn to space, and she could not help but strive for it, even as it destroyed her.
And Mother Nature sobbed, and felt deep regret for what she had done. She went to the thread of hair that connected Moon to the Earth, and with a mighty slash, she severed the strand. She looked up for a last look of her beautiful Moon, tears in her eyes for the first time.
But Moon was no longer rising. She hovered far above the Earth, not close enough to be with Mother Nature, but not truly in space, and a sense of horror washed over her. She had given up too much of her form to lengthen the tether, and now there was not enough of her left to propel herself into space. She let out a primal cry, and it echoed down to the Earth below.
When Mother Nature heard her beloved Moon crying, she realized what she had done. Her beloved Moon was trapped, unable to ever return to her home, and unable to spend the rest of time down on Earth with Mother Nature. Mother Nature's heart broke, and she collapsed to the ground. Where she fell, the very Earth rent itself with her despair, and a great crevasse formed, a scar in the Earth large enough to be a testament to her pain.
From that day forward, Moon was trapped between Earth and Space, forever floating in between. So angry was she with Mother Nature, that she vowed to never look at her again. She turned to face the cosmos, and Mother Nature could only ever look up and see Moon's back, forever turned to face the planet that had trapped her.
Mother Nature, devastated, cried and cried until her tears bulged out the oceans. Even her tears strained to reach Moon, and to this day, the ocean reached up to be closer to Moon when she passes overhead.
By the time Mother Nature stopped crying, it was night. But as she looked around, she realized it was a night like she had never seen before. In place of inky blackness, a pale light shone down on Earth, illuminating the world through the darkness. Mother Nature looked up, and she saw Moon casting down a silvery glow of light, forever present in the darkness.
Even when they were apart, Moon could not help but share her nights with Mother Nature, and Mother Nature could not help but stare at Moon and admire her beauty. They remain that way to this day, with Moon locked in the sky, but casting down her presence to share with Mother Nature every night.
This is the story of Mother Nature and Moon, child. Remember it well. Some may say that it would have been better for Mother Nature to have let Moon go, and others will say that Moon is at fault, for wanting to leave despite Mother Earth's love. I say to remember that even after Mother Earth hurt her, Moon still casts down her light—because she still loves Mother Earth, even if her mistakes can't be fixed. She still loves Mother Earth, even though she was hurt. She still loves Mother Earth, because Moon is not from Earth, and she carried with her to Earth the greatest gift in the cosmos.
Forgiveness, child.
*****
**Obligatory 'I just woke up and where did this gold come from' edit**: Thank you for the gold, wow! I'm glad so many people enjoyed the response.
[This is where I would link to a subreddit dedicated to my writing](http://78.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_mcmlheP9MC1qg13id.jpg), but instead I'll just say that I'll be responding to more writing prompts in the future and that I'm working on something much, much longer when I'm not busy browsing Reddit. Stay tuned.
u/HighWizardOrren | The Grand Canyon was created by all of the loves in the world that could never be fulfilled, loves were the chemistry was right, but the timing was wrong. Maybe they felt something for each other but were taken by other people and thus could never quench their curiosity of what it would be like to kiss that other person, to be held by them at night. Maybe they live in a time or country where dating is not allowed, they could be nothing more than friends. Maybe they were both moving away, in a time before the internet, so before leaving they shared a single kiss before catching the train to their new lives. Each drop in the river at the bottom of the Grand Canyon is a story similar to the ones mentioned above. |
[WP] Google and Microsoft jointly release a new update that doubles as a social experiment; Spell Check will begin suggesting brand-new words in an effect to try to shape human language. This begins to have immediate results… | "Okay, okay. I *know* that management said not to add random words into the system. Blah, blah, blah... the AI determines what to add to prevent meaning from changing over text... but, we have to. It's our duty as overworked engineers." I casually told the rest of the Microoogle task force. Honestly, we had been working overtime for 3 sprints. It was stupid how we had no downtime to ourselves.
"What's a little bit of fun even going to change?" I was met with nodding, slightly hesitant heads. I think I got enough public approval to push up a little bit of fun.
"Okay, so let's just pick a word, and then commit it as bug fixes or something. The business is always really slow to pick anything up. Remember when they took like 5 weeks to just approve the budget for a couple text changes?" This time, the group was a little bit more enthusiastic. Oh man, it was always so easy to manipulate engineers with words. The antisocial pricks always had a tough time deciding on their own ideas.
"Hrith, I heard you say ...?" Hrith just started to agree to take credit for what he didn't say. "Sounds really cool that you suggested that!" Always trying to get a promotion, that guy.
"Okay, I'm putting it in." Our team put it into the system, had a good laugh, and forgot about it. For more than a couple years...
**Seventy Years Later**
"DID YOU JUST SQUANCH ON ME?" Lethurpathus screeched at Calumbi.
"No, I was just squanching, chill..." the crowd peered at Lethurpathus who awkwardly walked away.
-----------------------
Hello friends, any suggestions would be appreciated. Trying to get into writing!
(Rick and Morty reference for those unaware) | To: sethgahs@gmail.com
They are taking over. With each new addition to the english langauge, the AI's can tell eachother new words. We dont even know what xemp means, but they have used it in assanations of all the ANTIAI movements. Google npw only tells you what it wants to, with the new google bot+. Microsoft doesnt crash as much, and has better virus protection, but irpt tracks all of your purchaes and knows everything we own. More people need to wake up, and realize that we need to fight. You need to tell people, we ned to save the world. If they have their own langauge then we cant know what they are saying, and they can put out an organized effort to kill anyone. They think to fast, they work together so well, its time gor us to fight.
Message failed to send
note: gax forst bes tehad
(You will be terminated) | |
[WP] Google and Microsoft jointly release a new update that doubles as a social experiment; Spell Check will begin suggesting brand-new words in an effect to try to shape human language. This begins to have immediate results… | "A joquilescent, misty sunrise and black coffee. Next door a fergid child howls in a singular protest against stepping onto the school bus. The mother attempts to soothe the writhing brat, unsuccessfully, but manages to gently pranch the sniveling boy through the bus's metal doors. The driver bliches contemptuously as the keening child is maneuvered into a seat. He stops when he realizes your gaze is boring a hole into his joulish middle-aged skull."
You look up from your laptop, out to your actual next-door neighbor mowing his grass for the thousandth fucking time this week and actual dreary suburban morning (sans coffee).
You've poured over this passage more times than you'd care to admit. It was emailed to you yesterday-that closeted creative friend with a job in finance that's always wanted to write a novel is finally doing so, and shot a chapter your way for critique.
It's mostly pretty boring, but you're glad he's trying. In any case, a lack of excitement isn't what's bothering you about those five sentences. You tried Google, first.
"No results containing all your search terms were found.
Your search - joquilescent definition - did not match any documents.
Suggestions:
Make sure all words are spelled correctly.
Try different keywords.
Try more general keywords."
Maybe a misspelling. The thing was written in fucking Notepad, after all.
Your search - joquelescent definition - did not match any documents.
Your search - joquiliscent definition - did not match any documents.
Your search - joquilescient definition - did not match any documents.
Ok, so that's bizarre. Maybe he misremembered some sesquipedalian word from somewhere, or combined two words in a flight of creative fancy.
Next up: fergid.
Turgid? Fervid?
Pranch. Prod? Push?
Surely you remembered reading "bliche" in some romantic-era poetry somewhere.
Joulish? Ghoulish. No, ghastly?
You squeeze your nostrils together and breathe, clearing your sinuses. A weird old habit for when your brain's central processor feels like it's on the fritz. You decide that, at risk of offense, you're going to ask him directly where the hell these words came from.
"Hey ______,
Just got done reading the chapter you sent me."
(White lies don't hurt anyone.) Anyway:
"I think you've done an effective job at setting the scene for John Roddford's initially humdrum life, and the bit about the sparrow ties in nicely with what you've told me about your plans for the last chapter. However, I was wondering about your vocabulary in a few choice passages. For instance, you described a volcepherous sunri-"
You stop yourself. Volcepherous? Volcepherous. Is that what you meant to type? You furiously backspace and try again.
"…you described what I understand to be a serene weekday morning as "joquilescent", a word I'm having trouble finding the definition of anywhere. I was wondering if you could eretriate a few other words for me as wel-"
Eretriate.
You definitely typed that. You know what it means, too, somehow: to clarify or elucidate. But you also already somehow knew what the Google query was going to return.
You clench your nostrils together again.
This was going to take some fucking coffee after all.
| To: sethgahs@gmail.com
They are taking over. With each new addition to the english langauge, the AI's can tell eachother new words. We dont even know what xemp means, but they have used it in assanations of all the ANTIAI movements. Google npw only tells you what it wants to, with the new google bot+. Microsoft doesnt crash as much, and has better virus protection, but irpt tracks all of your purchaes and knows everything we own. More people need to wake up, and realize that we need to fight. You need to tell people, we ned to save the world. If they have their own langauge then we cant know what they are saying, and they can put out an organized effort to kill anyone. They think to fast, they work together so well, its time gor us to fight.
Message failed to send
note: gax forst bes tehad
(You will be terminated) | |
[WP] You have been the last person on earth for years now. One day, as you enter your shelter, the light turns on and you hear "Surprise!!" | It's been years. Five years. Five years since I last saw another person. Five years since I hugged my wonderful, loving mother. Five years since I kissed my tall, handsome boyfriend. Five years since I said a simple, taken-for-granted "hello" to the overly friendly neighborhood grocery store cashier.
Five years. I know because I've been using 2013 calendars and changing the year and moving the days around on them because well, what else do I have to do with all of this free time? Despite what you'd think, I have not had a shortage of food whatsoever and I've even gotten pretty good at gardening because I stole and read dozens of "How To" books from Chapters. Maybe stole isn't the right word considering I'm seemingly the only person left on Earth? Anyways...
Five years since every one magically disappeared. I felt like I was crazy when it first happened because how can billions of people just disappear without so much as a paper trail?
At least some animals survived. Not all of them, somehow, but some pets did. There are dogs, cats, geckos, pigs, cows, foxes, wolves, and many more. Shockingly they're all friendly and I've never had any issues with them. If it wasn't for the crippling loneliness I feel every day that passes, I may have felt like a Disney princess but no... Princesses have families, partners, friends, or just people in general. Whatever.
So here I am. Day 1825. Five years exactly. I'm on my way back from my daily bike ride and stroll by the lake to spend time with the birds.
Did I mention that it's somehow always spring? I noticed about a year into Oblivion that the weather never seemed to change. I mean sure, it rained sometimes and there was occasionally a cool breeze but other than that, it was always late spring-like weather. But after humanity disappeared off the face of the Earth, could I really be shocked about weather? No. So I've gotten used to it and it's pretty great actually. Although I loved winter time prior to Oblivion, I can imagine it would be a hassle to deal with all alone on Earth.
I'm close to home now, if you can even call it that. A home is a place you share, whether that's living in it with others or at least having people over sometimes, you know?
Lucky is approaching me, meowing loudly as always, probably asking for treats. I meow back at him to follow me inside. Years without human interaction has really fine tuned my ability to speak to animals... I think?
I unlock the door of my parent's house (where I've been living for about three years of Oblivion now) and suddenly I feel extremely ill. I have to lean against the mirror hung up at the entrance for balance because my head is pounding, my legs are aching, and I'm so dizzy I feel like throwing up. The last thought I have before passing out completely is that this is my first time in five years feeling sick to any degree.
...
My head feels so heavy, my eyes feel like they've been glued together time and time again, my body feels like there are cinder blocks on top of it. I manage to open my eyes. I'm laying on an unfamiliar bed. The lights, they're so bright.
"Surprise!!!" I hear in what can only be voices. Human voices. Live human voices, not recordings.
"Every one please calm down, she's just waking back up..."
My eyes struggle to stay open but my focus shifts and, and... it's my boyfriend. My amazing, wonderful boyfriend who I haven't seen in five years.
"Welcome back Sophie, we missed you."
I'm so confused... I finally have enough clarity in my vision to look around. I'm in a hospital room. There are about six tubes attached to me. My family is standing behind Derick, crying, hugging, staring at me. | Another day of grocery shopping at the 26th Walmart located a couple of towns away. I do have my McLaren to drive on, though, so it's not that awful. And of course, not having to stand in queue for the register isn't too bad as well. To be entirely honest, the advantages of not having to actually get to a register and pay for my newly acquired goods are clear.
I leave the store and head home. I live in what used to be Maryl Streep's mansion. I park in one of the two-story parking lots, and slid inside using my 476 days-old segway. The house welcomes me with soft lights that turn on when they detect movement. I crash on the sofa and turn my ~100" TV. Thank the Lord for the 2026's model of Crimson's Solar Panels or I would have gone completely nuts. *It's time for a Friends episde*, I think to myself. It may be 2029 but that shit is surprisingly relevant.
I fall asleep, with the lights following minutes later, due to lack of moving figures in sight. I don't know how long has it been until the room suddenly lights up, with a blurry silhouette lingering in the doorway, where there wasn't anything before. I rise quickly as to get a better angel because of my lazy eye, and I have to rub my eyes a few times before exclaiming, "Josh? Is this really you?"
"Of course it's me, silly Paul. It took me ages to find you."
"But, how did-- , where have--, what did you --," I excitedly screamed, only realizing I had so many question that need to be asked.
"Relax, little brother, everything in due time. But for now, I wanna show you something." He motions me to follow him outside, and to my surprise I discover a massive helicopter parking in front of my back door. *Wow, I guess this house does really isolate noise splendidly*, I pondered.
"Hop on", Josh orders while handing me a pair of headphones. "So, uh, what you've been up to?"
"Oh you know," I say, but I figure he probably doesn't. "Trying to keep a healthy routine in this mess." He nods. "Yeah, what the hell happened? Do you have any idea?"
"I sure don't. One day I woke up and there was not a single person in sight. Anywhere. And it's not like I found dead bodies, I mean there were no peoole, at all. I freaked out. I'd driven across the entire country a few times in a dire attempt to find a hint of life, but to no avail. I was hopeless. But I had to make do, you know?
"That must have been a tough time", Josh says while the city of angels is below us. He doesn't seems to be very empathetic towards my story. "Do you know why it happened?" I shrug. "Where did everyone actually go, though? They must be somewhere." I look at him without saying a thing. "Doesn't it seem strange to you that one day everyone just, **puff**, Disappeared?", He says, starting to lower the aircraft.
"Have you not felt that something's wrong the entire time?" *He asks a great deal of odd questions*, I notice.
We finally land and witness something that my eyes have been yearning for the last couple of years. A group of people, wearing solid black, coming towards me, extending their arms. "Good afternoon, Paul, please accompany us." I take their hands hesitantly, and enter a big, six-wheeled car, with Josh by my side?
"What is going on?", I'm finally able to mutter in disbelief. "We want to congratulate you on a successful experiment you've taken a part in. You were in complete isolation for 1500 days without a contact of living entities."
My eyes widen and my pulse races. *How can it be? What experiment?* "Josh, what's going on? I've been across the country as I've been telling you". He smiles, "yes, it's amazing what technology is capable of nowdays. The 'Earth System' is built upon a moving surface. Like a 360 degrees treadmill, if you will."
"So, the last couple of years of my life have been a lie? How can you do that to me?" I shout at them men. "It was your choice, man," Josh says. "You came up with the idea. You agreed to be the test subject but in order to do that they had to wipe your memory. We're going to get it back to you, don't worry."
I cannot calm down. It's been hours since my memory has been restored but I still feel those years as mine. The hopelessness, the desperation. How could I have done this to myself?
It's been weeks and I have begun climbing the walls in my house. The experiment was successful and some big corporation probably received a lot of funding for it. It was only the color of crimson that was covering the custom-taylored rug. My father's old handgun is lying next to my draining, lifeless body.
| |
[WP] There is a narrow dark passage through the trees at the end of town. Anybody who has walked it, was never seen again, and presumed dead. Actually, they could come back anytime they want. They just choose not to. | *24th April*
 
A man emerged out of the dark woods on the outskirts of the town. He had worn clothes, covered with dirt and a long black beard, he was shabby. Children have gone through the dark passage in the woods before, never returning again. This was the first when someone has come from the other side. And I intend to meet this man. I suspect that he knows something about the uncanny woods, what lies beyond the dark veil at the end of a row of willow trees with dead branches hanging down.
The news said the man was admitted in the town hospital. No one knows him nor does he seem to remember anything about himself.
I sit on a chair beside his bed. He looks as if he had just fought a battle for his life and has endured, injured and now reviving. He doesn’t have the strength to speak for long nor does he have enough time left.
“Can you please tell me about the woods, what lies beyond it?”
The man didn’t reply. He had a look on his face as if he didn’t understand what I just said, like little infants. Maybe telling him my purpose would make him reveal something.
“My brother went missing two weeks ago. And I am looking for him since then. I think he might have gone into the woods. Can you please tell me who you are and whether you know something about the woods?”
I sat there waiting for a response but he didn’t utter a single word. The expressions on his face were hollow and his eyes seemed dead. He was in some state of shock. A feeling of regret sparked within me; maybe I shouldn’t have come here, it was a waste of my ever decreasing time. I decided to leave and got up; my hopes to gain information from this man were gone.
“Wait”, said the man as I turned the knob of his room’s door.
A little spark of hope was rekindled within me, maybe he does know something. I turned around to listen to the man.
“Can you tell me what’s the date?” asked the man.
“It’s 24th Of April”
“Year?”
“2018”
The man picked up a book kept on a table next to him and started writing in it. I left.
I went home and made myself comfortable on my bed. I was tired but had not given up on my brother, I will go to the forest tomorrow myself and won’t rest until I bring him back home.
 
*25th April*
 
Its late at night, when the guards are asleep and it’s easy to slip into the forest, to slip into the devil’s territory when the devil walks upon these grounds to abduct innocent children. I don’t really expect to see any devil or monster but there must be something unscrupulous in these woods which has caused such discomfort to this town and I have come here to challenge that devil and to find my brother.
As I went down the narrow passage which goes into the forest, bordered with dead and pale willow trees and carpeted with remains of dead leaves and animals, I felt as if I was going deeper and deeper into the state of drowsiness. With every step I took, it became more difficult to take the next one. But I won’t let this wicked incantation of the dead trees to work upon me this easily. I pushed forward, deeper into the passage. But there are limits to what a teen like me could take. At one point my mind and body gave in to the wicked spell and fell on a pile of dirt and leaves.
I woke up on smooth grass and the warm sun sparkled the dew on the grass. I got up and found myself in the backyard of a house. It was a very calm place with grass below my feet and a warm sun in a clear sky, it felt like a calm dream. Someone came out of the house and called out my name, it was a woman and I couldn’t see her face due to the glare of the sun. I followed her into the house and I saw my little brother on a table having a meal with my father. I stood in one place for a few seconds, stuck to the ground with shock, wondering whether it was a dream or was it all real cause my parents had died in plane crash years ago. I stood there with a cocktail of emotions being stirred within me. My mother whisked me by the shoulder and placed me on a chair next to my brother.
“Now have your breakfast, quick” said my mother.
It was overwhelming to find my lost family again. Maybe life has given me a second chance and I must decide to accept it or not.
My family had left me once but I won't do the same to them. I decide to stay here with them.
 
*24th April 2018*
 
Today I woke up early for my morning jog. As I ran down the road on the outskirts of the town with trees on either side, I noticed a very beautiful narrow passage going into the forest lined with cherry blossom trees. It stood out from the rest of the green forest. I went down the passage and with every step I felt like falling into a sweet sleep. At one point I fell on the ground, unconscious.
I woke up when it was dark. I felt strange and weird. I was still in the woods. I turned around and walked back the same way I had come in. I saw dead willow trees instead of cherry blossoms and with every step I took a fragment of my memory withered and disappeared. By the time I reached the road at the end of the passage I had forgotten all those years I had spent with my family. I was in a new place now. I went into the passage as a young teen and now I come out of it as a grown man with shabby clothes and a long black beard. This new body isn't mine but neither do I remember my old self. I just remember my family.
I am admitted in some hospital. A young man had come to meet me, inquiring about the woods and something about his lost brother, but I couldn’t help him and he left without gaining anything from me. I didn’t know the young man nor did I know anything about his brother but I was sorry for him and prayed that he finds his brother soon. But I am now in a new world, lost from my family.
| The town had about ten roads, but only nine of them ever saw much use. Everyone talked about the tenth road that no one ever came back from. As a kid, I've seen plenty of the older teenagers drive on it to never come back. The other kids and I always tried to guess what got to them. Was it a witch, a great big monster of some kind, a demon, would it let you go if you didn't have a car?
The adults also spoke in hushed tones about the person who went through it as delusional, how there wouldn't be what they thought on the other side. There was only one person, who did ever come back. My friends older sister, she never spoke much after she came back, never married, but stared off into the distance.
As we got older we spoke about it less and less, knowing but not saying much about it. The only people who would get fanatically about it were the younger children. Telling even more wild stories then any of us ever did. Them and I watched some of my friends become miserable and trek down the path.
Eventually, I decided to go down it. Never to return to the old miserable town again. I suppose it was once nice to know everyone in your town, but not if they were the people who lived in mines. I rather live elsewhere. I'm pretty sure they wouldn't let me back in if I went back there to warn the others. If I brought anyone else, they would have cleaned up by the time we got there. | |
[WP] There is a narrow dark passage through the trees at the end of town. Anybody who has walked it, was never seen again, and presumed dead. Actually, they could come back anytime they want. They just choose not to. | It's like a drug.
Think of the most addictive substance known to humanity, and multiply that by 10, or maybe 100. You never knew you needed something like this, until you experience it. Your mind adapts and then goes beyond any level of dependency, into the realm of absolute necessity. The uninitiated can never know the feeling, to know you can return, but realize that what you're returning to will never feel as good, or as right. To those who enter, going back would be returning to the worst imagined nightmare.
To be frank, even though the exit is always within reach, the only way to come back would be for someone to come for you,
*and pull you back.*
I decided to see the supposed "dark passage" the locals had been talking about for weeks. It was 15 minutes past the interstate, at the end of a farm, deep within the woods. In fact, the farmer was the first to discover it, and the first to go in.
At the time, I couldn't have cared less about some "magic Narnia portal", but my girlfriend of 3 years was obsessed since she had found out the night before. It was all she was talking about, and though I love that goof with every ounce of my soul, I was beginning to hate her for it, she'll never know how much it was annoying me, and she never will.
"Ah come on you pussy! It's only a couple minutes away! and we've even been in those woods before, memberrrr?
She leaned her head agains't my shoulder for the third time since got on the couch.
"Babe."
I gazed down at her puppy dog-like eyes. "What if this is just some made up BS? You know how they get with stuff like this. It's always 'aliens' or 'the russians' and it never turns into anything."
She shifted her gaze away to the t.v. There was several seconds of silence and she broke it with, "I want it to be my birthday present." I stared ahead, "Your birthday isn't even f-"
"I don't want anything, no chocolate, no flowers, no movies, no sex, just this." She sat up, putting her hands on my thigh looking as dead serious as she could manage.
I continued to stare ahead, pretending to watch whatever show we had on. Another brief silence and I turned to her.
"You're serious about this, suze?
"Super serial" she nodded with pursed lips.
"and if we go there, which is 15-20 minutes by the way, give or take with traffic and construction, we take a quick peek and come back so we can relax on our one day off together?"
"Mmhmm." she nodded again.
I let out a long sigh. "fine, but we leave in 5 minutes, so I c-"
She jumped at me, wrapping her arms around my neck, the force causing us to lay back out the couch.
We kissed for the last time.
The drive took 25 minutes, and the closer we got, the more cars we saw. Before long, as the outskirts of the farm appeared in the morning mist. We saw what can only be rivaled by a wal-mart parking lot. RV's and campers, minivans, and stationwagons. Lifted trucks and tractors from every nearby farm. It looked like the whole town decided to swarm in today.
"I'm regretting this already."
"Shhush you." "Just the more reason we had to come."
"I guess." I let out another long sigh, and turned off the highway onto the dirt road.
Finding a place to park wasn't hard, but when we walked out behind the farmhouse and to the edge of the treeline, we could already hear the crowd deeper within the forest. Someone had set up an impromptu path leading towards the site. It was wooden stakes and reflective tape tying them together. Trailing off into the unknown misty woods, like some backwoods horror tale. The 'footpath' was muddy and littered with trash already. Cardboard signs dotted the path as we sloshed along. "PASSAGE AHEAD", "GODS STAIRWAY TO HEAVEN", "$5.00 ADMISHUN"(I laughed, despite being nervous, and still anooyed at the whole ordeal).
We walked hand in hand, until the mist slowly revealed a crowd of at least 80, or maybe even 100. This town really did come out in full force. "Come on, I wanna see it up close."
"Careful suze" I said, but she was ignoring me, determined to get a better view.
The crowd was all murmuring and talking amongst themselves. Some had set up camp, and many were just standing along a large line that we were approaching. We got to said line and Suzy pulled me through the bodies, bumping and nudging them aside to a few grumbles and obscenities. We stopped as the taped stakes ended, and a circle of caution tape wound around a single old tree.
It was enormous. Not redwood enormous, but the biggest tree I had ever seen. It was dead. Grey and twisted, not a leaf to be found. You could make out a small trail of muddy footprints leading right to it, and right at the base was a black hole about the size of a person. It was the blackest and darkest thing I could possibly imagine. Even from this distance it almost hurt to look directly into. Looking up, a black aura was surrounding the entire tree, up to the tops of the gnarled limbs. Like it was glowing shadow.
I tried to make further sense of what I was looking at and Suzy suddenly ducked under the tape and pulled my hand along with her.
"Babe, wait up! I don't think we should be getting this close."
She was almost dragging me now, her frenzied walk turning into a slow jog, our feet kicking up mud everywhere.
"SUZY!" "PLEASE STOP"
Before I could say yell anything more, we we're already at the base of the tree and her hand slipped out of mine. This was happening so quickly, I didn't know what to even do. I watched in some state of awe, or high, or fever dream like trance, as Suzy slowly stepped towards the dark. her hand still behind her.
"Suzy, you can't just walk in there, what are you even doing?"
She was inches from the black mass of the hole, and she placed her hand on the bark. Her hair was beginning to blow forward, like air was being sucked in towards the void.
I could hear whispers, what sounded like the whispers of women, no it was childrens voices. Unintelligible, all speaking at once. It would have chilled me to the bone, had I been focusing on anything but her.
I called out one last time, reaching for her hand. "Don't go in Suzy!" My fingertips grazed hers, and she fell forward. Like someone dropping on a mattress, or a pool, her body plunging into the disappearing into the darkness.
"SUZY!"
I desperately tried to reach for her as she fell, but I felt a tug on my waist and then my arm by my side. In my daze, I didn't realize several police officers and one firefighter running up behind us. I looked over my shoulder to acknowledge their presence, but Suzy was my only concern. As they pulled I pushed forward with all my strength, my feet slipping on the mud. Their grips slipped too, the mud getting over everything. I strained and yelled out "arghhhhhh" reaching just far enough with my outstretched hand to grab the closest low branch. Using the leverage, I continued to strain, pulling forward just enough as the two men struggled to grab my mud soaked body. I pulled with all I had and my head dipped into the black of the portal.
I was somewhere else.
I didn't know what I was looking at initially. I was inside a building. There we tables upon tables, and what looked like families gathered around them. Plates with pizza slices and empty sodas covered them too, scattered piles of presents and wrapping paper. There was a stage at the end of the room with animals, no, people in fur suits moving like robots.
I realized where I was. A Chuck E. Cheese.
The table closest to me had a group of small girls, giggling and huddling around one in particular. The birthday girl. She was blonde with a party hat on, and she was absolutely tearing apart her presents, furiously unwrapping one with a wild grin on her face. As she revealed the gift, and the girls all looked shocked. It became obvious where and when I was.
I had seen this photo hanging on the mantle of her parents house, hundreds of times. A 8th birthday party for a special little girl, her friends all jealous of the cheap easy-bake oven she had gotten. It was one of her early memories as a child, she told me that one of her friends took the oven out of the package before she had a chance, and they got into a fight.
"Suzy?" I whispered under my breath.
I could feel the men behind still grabbing on as I was gradually tugged back through.
Before my head could eclipse the portal, Suzy looked up at me, instantly disconnected from the scene.
Her stare was frightening, pure hatred. Like I had just murdered her father.
*"Leave."* she said bluntly.
I fell backwards onto the two men in the mud, looking up at the dried canopy of branches. They were moving like fingers.
| The town had about ten roads, but only nine of them ever saw much use. Everyone talked about the tenth road that no one ever came back from. As a kid, I've seen plenty of the older teenagers drive on it to never come back. The other kids and I always tried to guess what got to them. Was it a witch, a great big monster of some kind, a demon, would it let you go if you didn't have a car?
The adults also spoke in hushed tones about the person who went through it as delusional, how there wouldn't be what they thought on the other side. There was only one person, who did ever come back. My friends older sister, she never spoke much after she came back, never married, but stared off into the distance.
As we got older we spoke about it less and less, knowing but not saying much about it. The only people who would get fanatically about it were the younger children. Telling even more wild stories then any of us ever did. Them and I watched some of my friends become miserable and trek down the path.
Eventually, I decided to go down it. Never to return to the old miserable town again. I suppose it was once nice to know everyone in your town, but not if they were the people who lived in mines. I rather live elsewhere. I'm pretty sure they wouldn't let me back in if I went back there to warn the others. If I brought anyone else, they would have cleaned up by the time we got there. | |
[WP] There is a narrow dark passage through the trees at the end of town. Anybody who has walked it, was never seen again, and presumed dead. Actually, they could come back anytime they want. They just choose not to. | Every town has its stories, and ours was no different. I've grew up hearing about people who go missing whilst walking past The Gap, but to me it was all an old wives tale until my brother, Casey disappeared. He and his friends were playing truth or dare, and dared him to go and walk up by The Gap. Well that's as good as a death sentence where I live, nobody who has ever walked past The Gap has ever came back.
Its been 11 years since then, and I believe it about as much as I did then; not at all. I know my brother's alive, there is no way I wouldn't know if he wasn't. Anyway life for me has been rather empty since my brother died, I carried on through school, but we moved away from Redditch a year after Casey went missing. I managed to land a great job for someone a year out of school, because I'm currently not going to university and can work every hour they throw at me. After about 3 months I decided to visit Redditch again, I'd kept in touch with a few people and it had been years since I'd seen them, but I also wanted to visit The Gap. Its crazy but I felt like it'd give me an idea about what really happened that day. I walked through a small familiar square filled with the same shops from my childhood. I walked up the winding path next to the woods where The Gap lies, and found it in no time. There seemed to be no one hiding anywhere so I approached the gap, as I drew level and poked my head around, I saw a glitter of light, as if sunlight off metal, is it a knife?! No, a... door handle? I rounded the corner, into the Gap itself, and reached for the handle, warm to the touch, it glided open effortlessly. A vast expanse of enchanting meadows, and blossoming lakes filled my vision, and in the distance, a mystical forest far bigger than the woods surrounding The Gap. Without hesitation I walked through the doorway, the door swinging shut behind me, and continued to marvel at the beauty of the landscape before me as I walked down a wonderful country path. In the distance on the edge of the water is a large wooden lakehouse, I decided to walk down and ask whoever lives there where exactly we were. As I approached the front of the house, a man chopping wood in front of his house greeted me eyes, at last someone whom he could question.
"Excuse me Sir, but where the hell am I?"
As he turned, comprehension dawned on both of our faces, we knew each other very well.
"Jesus, is it really you Nathan?" Said the man who's face, minus the fact he had a thick beard, looked so much like mine. I was speechless, it was a few seconds before I managed to spit out "I knew it! For fuck sake Casey, why haven't you come back? Mom and dad have been torn apart since you left, they think you're dead!"
There was shock on his face, and then he spoke very quietly "I guess I never thought about it like that, I didn't want them thinking I was dead. But this place is amazing, Nate! Honestly take a walk around with me and find out"
"Take a walk?!" I started, but Casey silenced me
"Trust me, come on. There's so much I've got to show you about this place!"
__________________________________
Part Two coming very soon!
| The town had about ten roads, but only nine of them ever saw much use. Everyone talked about the tenth road that no one ever came back from. As a kid, I've seen plenty of the older teenagers drive on it to never come back. The other kids and I always tried to guess what got to them. Was it a witch, a great big monster of some kind, a demon, would it let you go if you didn't have a car?
The adults also spoke in hushed tones about the person who went through it as delusional, how there wouldn't be what they thought on the other side. There was only one person, who did ever come back. My friends older sister, she never spoke much after she came back, never married, but stared off into the distance.
As we got older we spoke about it less and less, knowing but not saying much about it. The only people who would get fanatically about it were the younger children. Telling even more wild stories then any of us ever did. Them and I watched some of my friends become miserable and trek down the path.
Eventually, I decided to go down it. Never to return to the old miserable town again. I suppose it was once nice to know everyone in your town, but not if they were the people who lived in mines. I rather live elsewhere. I'm pretty sure they wouldn't let me back in if I went back there to warn the others. If I brought anyone else, they would have cleaned up by the time we got there. | |
[WP] There is a narrow dark passage through the trees at the end of town. Anybody who has walked it, was never seen again, and presumed dead. Actually, they could come back anytime they want. They just choose not to. | I didn't go to the funeral.
Josiah said he saw Danny in the woods with a backpack slung over his shoulder. The cops found footsteps heading toward the dark passage. They shook their heads sorrowfully and said it was a tragedy, but understandable, really, with the way he'd been unstable ever since his parents died.
If Danny had been eaten by grim-hollows or claimed by the lamia, I would have understood. I would have even accepted it if he'd been poisoned by the light of the red moon, and that didn't happen these days unless you were really careless.
But this... Danny had to go through that passage from which no one ever returned. He'd died in the one way that's avoidable in this town.
He'd died because he'd chosen to leave me.
Eventually, I forgave him. I found a new best friend. I kissed a boy for the first time, and if he wasn't the boy I wanted, if he dumped me at prom for that girl who turned out to be a host for the Clew, at least he'd been alive.
Then I got the postcard. The picture showed a town where tall buildings stretched toward a blue sky. The people in the pictures were the strangest things I'd ever seen: they milled around, laughing, enjoying themselves. They wore bright colors -- didn't they know that attracted the predators? None of them wore masks to protect themselves from the air.
The back had a familiar cursive scrawl.
*Beth,*
*It's not what you think. The passage leads to a different world, a better one. There are no horrors here.*
*I miss you. I have so much I want to tell you. Please come.*
*Love,*
*Danny*
I can't stop thinking about that postcard. I think about what it would be like to live in a world without monsters, a world where people can walk under the sky without fear. I imagine what it would be like to see Danny again, to talk to my best friend again and maybe, to discover what it means that he signed his letter "love".
But then I think about the passage that swallows the light, how hungry it always looks, and I think, what if it's all a lie? And then I shiver, knowing that I'll never go find out. | The town had about ten roads, but only nine of them ever saw much use. Everyone talked about the tenth road that no one ever came back from. As a kid, I've seen plenty of the older teenagers drive on it to never come back. The other kids and I always tried to guess what got to them. Was it a witch, a great big monster of some kind, a demon, would it let you go if you didn't have a car?
The adults also spoke in hushed tones about the person who went through it as delusional, how there wouldn't be what they thought on the other side. There was only one person, who did ever come back. My friends older sister, she never spoke much after she came back, never married, but stared off into the distance.
As we got older we spoke about it less and less, knowing but not saying much about it. The only people who would get fanatically about it were the younger children. Telling even more wild stories then any of us ever did. Them and I watched some of my friends become miserable and trek down the path.
Eventually, I decided to go down it. Never to return to the old miserable town again. I suppose it was once nice to know everyone in your town, but not if they were the people who lived in mines. I rather live elsewhere. I'm pretty sure they wouldn't let me back in if I went back there to warn the others. If I brought anyone else, they would have cleaned up by the time we got there. | |
[WP] There is a narrow dark passage through the trees at the end of town. Anybody who has walked it, was never seen again, and presumed dead. Actually, they could come back anytime they want. They just choose not to. | *24th April*
 
A man emerged out of the dark woods on the outskirts of the town. He had worn clothes, covered with dirt and a long black beard, he was shabby. Children have gone through the dark passage in the woods before, never returning again. This was the first when someone has come from the other side. And I intend to meet this man. I suspect that he knows something about the uncanny woods, what lies beyond the dark veil at the end of a row of willow trees with dead branches hanging down.
The news said the man was admitted in the town hospital. No one knows him nor does he seem to remember anything about himself.
I sit on a chair beside his bed. He looks as if he had just fought a battle for his life and has endured, injured and now reviving. He doesn’t have the strength to speak for long nor does he have enough time left.
“Can you please tell me about the woods, what lies beyond it?”
The man didn’t reply. He had a look on his face as if he didn’t understand what I just said, like little infants. Maybe telling him my purpose would make him reveal something.
“My brother went missing two weeks ago. And I am looking for him since then. I think he might have gone into the woods. Can you please tell me who you are and whether you know something about the woods?”
I sat there waiting for a response but he didn’t utter a single word. The expressions on his face were hollow and his eyes seemed dead. He was in some state of shock. A feeling of regret sparked within me; maybe I shouldn’t have come here, it was a waste of my ever decreasing time. I decided to leave and got up; my hopes to gain information from this man were gone.
“Wait”, said the man as I turned the knob of his room’s door.
A little spark of hope was rekindled within me, maybe he does know something. I turned around to listen to the man.
“Can you tell me what’s the date?” asked the man.
“It’s 24th Of April”
“Year?”
“2018”
The man picked up a book kept on a table next to him and started writing in it. I left.
I went home and made myself comfortable on my bed. I was tired but had not given up on my brother, I will go to the forest tomorrow myself and won’t rest until I bring him back home.
 
*25th April*
 
Its late at night, when the guards are asleep and it’s easy to slip into the forest, to slip into the devil’s territory when the devil walks upon these grounds to abduct innocent children. I don’t really expect to see any devil or monster but there must be something unscrupulous in these woods which has caused such discomfort to this town and I have come here to challenge that devil and to find my brother.
As I went down the narrow passage which goes into the forest, bordered with dead and pale willow trees and carpeted with remains of dead leaves and animals, I felt as if I was going deeper and deeper into the state of drowsiness. With every step I took, it became more difficult to take the next one. But I won’t let this wicked incantation of the dead trees to work upon me this easily. I pushed forward, deeper into the passage. But there are limits to what a teen like me could take. At one point my mind and body gave in to the wicked spell and fell on a pile of dirt and leaves.
I woke up on smooth grass and the warm sun sparkled the dew on the grass. I got up and found myself in the backyard of a house. It was a very calm place with grass below my feet and a warm sun in a clear sky, it felt like a calm dream. Someone came out of the house and called out my name, it was a woman and I couldn’t see her face due to the glare of the sun. I followed her into the house and I saw my little brother on a table having a meal with my father. I stood in one place for a few seconds, stuck to the ground with shock, wondering whether it was a dream or was it all real cause my parents had died in plane crash years ago. I stood there with a cocktail of emotions being stirred within me. My mother whisked me by the shoulder and placed me on a chair next to my brother.
“Now have your breakfast, quick” said my mother.
It was overwhelming to find my lost family again. Maybe life has given me a second chance and I must decide to accept it or not.
My family had left me once but I won't do the same to them. I decide to stay here with them.
 
*24th April 2018*
 
Today I woke up early for my morning jog. As I ran down the road on the outskirts of the town with trees on either side, I noticed a very beautiful narrow passage going into the forest lined with cherry blossom trees. It stood out from the rest of the green forest. I went down the passage and with every step I felt like falling into a sweet sleep. At one point I fell on the ground, unconscious.
I woke up when it was dark. I felt strange and weird. I was still in the woods. I turned around and walked back the same way I had come in. I saw dead willow trees instead of cherry blossoms and with every step I took a fragment of my memory withered and disappeared. By the time I reached the road at the end of the passage I had forgotten all those years I had spent with my family. I was in a new place now. I went into the passage as a young teen and now I come out of it as a grown man with shabby clothes and a long black beard. This new body isn't mine but neither do I remember my old self. I just remember my family.
I am admitted in some hospital. A young man had come to meet me, inquiring about the woods and something about his lost brother, but I couldn’t help him and he left without gaining anything from me. I didn’t know the young man nor did I know anything about his brother but I was sorry for him and prayed that he finds his brother soon. But I am now in a new world, lost from my family.
| I go home from the flower shop the same way everyday. And every day I pass the road with tall trees that many people are afraid of. I've heard all kinds of stories about what lies at the end of the dark path.
But right now, anything would be better than the path I'm currently on. Day in and day out the same thing. I'm stuck in a cycle I don't even understand, and I should be happy but I'm not.
The sun is out and it's beautiful today, but my surrounding are lost one me. I make a sharp left and start down the path. I'm not even sure what I will encounter, but anything has to be better than this. | |
[WP] There is a narrow dark passage through the trees at the end of town. Anybody who has walked it, was never seen again, and presumed dead. Actually, they could come back anytime they want. They just choose not to. | It's like a drug.
Think of the most addictive substance known to humanity, and multiply that by 10, or maybe 100. You never knew you needed something like this, until you experience it. Your mind adapts and then goes beyond any level of dependency, into the realm of absolute necessity. The uninitiated can never know the feeling, to know you can return, but realize that what you're returning to will never feel as good, or as right. To those who enter, going back would be returning to the worst imagined nightmare.
To be frank, even though the exit is always within reach, the only way to come back would be for someone to come for you,
*and pull you back.*
I decided to see the supposed "dark passage" the locals had been talking about for weeks. It was 15 minutes past the interstate, at the end of a farm, deep within the woods. In fact, the farmer was the first to discover it, and the first to go in.
At the time, I couldn't have cared less about some "magic Narnia portal", but my girlfriend of 3 years was obsessed since she had found out the night before. It was all she was talking about, and though I love that goof with every ounce of my soul, I was beginning to hate her for it, she'll never know how much it was annoying me, and she never will.
"Ah come on you pussy! It's only a couple minutes away! and we've even been in those woods before, memberrrr?
She leaned her head agains't my shoulder for the third time since got on the couch.
"Babe."
I gazed down at her puppy dog-like eyes. "What if this is just some made up BS? You know how they get with stuff like this. It's always 'aliens' or 'the russians' and it never turns into anything."
She shifted her gaze away to the t.v. There was several seconds of silence and she broke it with, "I want it to be my birthday present." I stared ahead, "Your birthday isn't even f-"
"I don't want anything, no chocolate, no flowers, no movies, no sex, just this." She sat up, putting her hands on my thigh looking as dead serious as she could manage.
I continued to stare ahead, pretending to watch whatever show we had on. Another brief silence and I turned to her.
"You're serious about this, suze?
"Super serial" she nodded with pursed lips.
"and if we go there, which is 15-20 minutes by the way, give or take with traffic and construction, we take a quick peek and come back so we can relax on our one day off together?"
"Mmhmm." she nodded again.
I let out a long sigh. "fine, but we leave in 5 minutes, so I c-"
She jumped at me, wrapping her arms around my neck, the force causing us to lay back out the couch.
We kissed for the last time.
The drive took 25 minutes, and the closer we got, the more cars we saw. Before long, as the outskirts of the farm appeared in the morning mist. We saw what can only be rivaled by a wal-mart parking lot. RV's and campers, minivans, and stationwagons. Lifted trucks and tractors from every nearby farm. It looked like the whole town decided to swarm in today.
"I'm regretting this already."
"Shhush you." "Just the more reason we had to come."
"I guess." I let out another long sigh, and turned off the highway onto the dirt road.
Finding a place to park wasn't hard, but when we walked out behind the farmhouse and to the edge of the treeline, we could already hear the crowd deeper within the forest. Someone had set up an impromptu path leading towards the site. It was wooden stakes and reflective tape tying them together. Trailing off into the unknown misty woods, like some backwoods horror tale. The 'footpath' was muddy and littered with trash already. Cardboard signs dotted the path as we sloshed along. "PASSAGE AHEAD", "GODS STAIRWAY TO HEAVEN", "$5.00 ADMISHUN"(I laughed, despite being nervous, and still anooyed at the whole ordeal).
We walked hand in hand, until the mist slowly revealed a crowd of at least 80, or maybe even 100. This town really did come out in full force. "Come on, I wanna see it up close."
"Careful suze" I said, but she was ignoring me, determined to get a better view.
The crowd was all murmuring and talking amongst themselves. Some had set up camp, and many were just standing along a large line that we were approaching. We got to said line and Suzy pulled me through the bodies, bumping and nudging them aside to a few grumbles and obscenities. We stopped as the taped stakes ended, and a circle of caution tape wound around a single old tree.
It was enormous. Not redwood enormous, but the biggest tree I had ever seen. It was dead. Grey and twisted, not a leaf to be found. You could make out a small trail of muddy footprints leading right to it, and right at the base was a black hole about the size of a person. It was the blackest and darkest thing I could possibly imagine. Even from this distance it almost hurt to look directly into. Looking up, a black aura was surrounding the entire tree, up to the tops of the gnarled limbs. Like it was glowing shadow.
I tried to make further sense of what I was looking at and Suzy suddenly ducked under the tape and pulled my hand along with her.
"Babe, wait up! I don't think we should be getting this close."
She was almost dragging me now, her frenzied walk turning into a slow jog, our feet kicking up mud everywhere.
"SUZY!" "PLEASE STOP"
Before I could say yell anything more, we we're already at the base of the tree and her hand slipped out of mine. This was happening so quickly, I didn't know what to even do. I watched in some state of awe, or high, or fever dream like trance, as Suzy slowly stepped towards the dark. her hand still behind her.
"Suzy, you can't just walk in there, what are you even doing?"
She was inches from the black mass of the hole, and she placed her hand on the bark. Her hair was beginning to blow forward, like air was being sucked in towards the void.
I could hear whispers, what sounded like the whispers of women, no it was childrens voices. Unintelligible, all speaking at once. It would have chilled me to the bone, had I been focusing on anything but her.
I called out one last time, reaching for her hand. "Don't go in Suzy!" My fingertips grazed hers, and she fell forward. Like someone dropping on a mattress, or a pool, her body plunging into the disappearing into the darkness.
"SUZY!"
I desperately tried to reach for her as she fell, but I felt a tug on my waist and then my arm by my side. In my daze, I didn't realize several police officers and one firefighter running up behind us. I looked over my shoulder to acknowledge their presence, but Suzy was my only concern. As they pulled I pushed forward with all my strength, my feet slipping on the mud. Their grips slipped too, the mud getting over everything. I strained and yelled out "arghhhhhh" reaching just far enough with my outstretched hand to grab the closest low branch. Using the leverage, I continued to strain, pulling forward just enough as the two men struggled to grab my mud soaked body. I pulled with all I had and my head dipped into the black of the portal.
I was somewhere else.
I didn't know what I was looking at initially. I was inside a building. There we tables upon tables, and what looked like families gathered around them. Plates with pizza slices and empty sodas covered them too, scattered piles of presents and wrapping paper. There was a stage at the end of the room with animals, no, people in fur suits moving like robots.
I realized where I was. A Chuck E. Cheese.
The table closest to me had a group of small girls, giggling and huddling around one in particular. The birthday girl. She was blonde with a party hat on, and she was absolutely tearing apart her presents, furiously unwrapping one with a wild grin on her face. As she revealed the gift, and the girls all looked shocked. It became obvious where and when I was.
I had seen this photo hanging on the mantle of her parents house, hundreds of times. A 8th birthday party for a special little girl, her friends all jealous of the cheap easy-bake oven she had gotten. It was one of her early memories as a child, she told me that one of her friends took the oven out of the package before she had a chance, and they got into a fight.
"Suzy?" I whispered under my breath.
I could feel the men behind still grabbing on as I was gradually tugged back through.
Before my head could eclipse the portal, Suzy looked up at me, instantly disconnected from the scene.
Her stare was frightening, pure hatred. Like I had just murdered her father.
*"Leave."* she said bluntly.
I fell backwards onto the two men in the mud, looking up at the dried canopy of branches. They were moving like fingers.
| I go home from the flower shop the same way everyday. And every day I pass the road with tall trees that many people are afraid of. I've heard all kinds of stories about what lies at the end of the dark path.
But right now, anything would be better than the path I'm currently on. Day in and day out the same thing. I'm stuck in a cycle I don't even understand, and I should be happy but I'm not.
The sun is out and it's beautiful today, but my surrounding are lost one me. I make a sharp left and start down the path. I'm not even sure what I will encounter, but anything has to be better than this. | |
[WP] There is a narrow dark passage through the trees at the end of town. Anybody who has walked it, was never seen again, and presumed dead. Actually, they could come back anytime they want. They just choose not to. | Every town has its stories, and ours was no different. I've grew up hearing about people who go missing whilst walking past The Gap, but to me it was all an old wives tale until my brother, Casey disappeared. He and his friends were playing truth or dare, and dared him to go and walk up by The Gap. Well that's as good as a death sentence where I live, nobody who has ever walked past The Gap has ever came back.
Its been 11 years since then, and I believe it about as much as I did then; not at all. I know my brother's alive, there is no way I wouldn't know if he wasn't. Anyway life for me has been rather empty since my brother died, I carried on through school, but we moved away from Redditch a year after Casey went missing. I managed to land a great job for someone a year out of school, because I'm currently not going to university and can work every hour they throw at me. After about 3 months I decided to visit Redditch again, I'd kept in touch with a few people and it had been years since I'd seen them, but I also wanted to visit The Gap. Its crazy but I felt like it'd give me an idea about what really happened that day. I walked through a small familiar square filled with the same shops from my childhood. I walked up the winding path next to the woods where The Gap lies, and found it in no time. There seemed to be no one hiding anywhere so I approached the gap, as I drew level and poked my head around, I saw a glitter of light, as if sunlight off metal, is it a knife?! No, a... door handle? I rounded the corner, into the Gap itself, and reached for the handle, warm to the touch, it glided open effortlessly. A vast expanse of enchanting meadows, and blossoming lakes filled my vision, and in the distance, a mystical forest far bigger than the woods surrounding The Gap. Without hesitation I walked through the doorway, the door swinging shut behind me, and continued to marvel at the beauty of the landscape before me as I walked down a wonderful country path. In the distance on the edge of the water is a large wooden lakehouse, I decided to walk down and ask whoever lives there where exactly we were. As I approached the front of the house, a man chopping wood in front of his house greeted me eyes, at last someone whom he could question.
"Excuse me Sir, but where the hell am I?"
As he turned, comprehension dawned on both of our faces, we knew each other very well.
"Jesus, is it really you Nathan?" Said the man who's face, minus the fact he had a thick beard, looked so much like mine. I was speechless, it was a few seconds before I managed to spit out "I knew it! For fuck sake Casey, why haven't you come back? Mom and dad have been torn apart since you left, they think you're dead!"
There was shock on his face, and then he spoke very quietly "I guess I never thought about it like that, I didn't want them thinking I was dead. But this place is amazing, Nate! Honestly take a walk around with me and find out"
"Take a walk?!" I started, but Casey silenced me
"Trust me, come on. There's so much I've got to show you about this place!"
__________________________________
Part Two coming very soon!
| I go home from the flower shop the same way everyday. And every day I pass the road with tall trees that many people are afraid of. I've heard all kinds of stories about what lies at the end of the dark path.
But right now, anything would be better than the path I'm currently on. Day in and day out the same thing. I'm stuck in a cycle I don't even understand, and I should be happy but I'm not.
The sun is out and it's beautiful today, but my surrounding are lost one me. I make a sharp left and start down the path. I'm not even sure what I will encounter, but anything has to be better than this. | |
[WP] There is a narrow dark passage through the trees at the end of town. Anybody who has walked it, was never seen again, and presumed dead. Actually, they could come back anytime they want. They just choose not to. | I didn't go to the funeral.
Josiah said he saw Danny in the woods with a backpack slung over his shoulder. The cops found footsteps heading toward the dark passage. They shook their heads sorrowfully and said it was a tragedy, but understandable, really, with the way he'd been unstable ever since his parents died.
If Danny had been eaten by grim-hollows or claimed by the lamia, I would have understood. I would have even accepted it if he'd been poisoned by the light of the red moon, and that didn't happen these days unless you were really careless.
But this... Danny had to go through that passage from which no one ever returned. He'd died in the one way that's avoidable in this town.
He'd died because he'd chosen to leave me.
Eventually, I forgave him. I found a new best friend. I kissed a boy for the first time, and if he wasn't the boy I wanted, if he dumped me at prom for that girl who turned out to be a host for the Clew, at least he'd been alive.
Then I got the postcard. The picture showed a town where tall buildings stretched toward a blue sky. The people in the pictures were the strangest things I'd ever seen: they milled around, laughing, enjoying themselves. They wore bright colors -- didn't they know that attracted the predators? None of them wore masks to protect themselves from the air.
The back had a familiar cursive scrawl.
*Beth,*
*It's not what you think. The passage leads to a different world, a better one. There are no horrors here.*
*I miss you. I have so much I want to tell you. Please come.*
*Love,*
*Danny*
I can't stop thinking about that postcard. I think about what it would be like to live in a world without monsters, a world where people can walk under the sky without fear. I imagine what it would be like to see Danny again, to talk to my best friend again and maybe, to discover what it means that he signed his letter "love".
But then I think about the passage that swallows the light, how hungry it always looks, and I think, what if it's all a lie? And then I shiver, knowing that I'll never go find out. | I go home from the flower shop the same way everyday. And every day I pass the road with tall trees that many people are afraid of. I've heard all kinds of stories about what lies at the end of the dark path.
But right now, anything would be better than the path I'm currently on. Day in and day out the same thing. I'm stuck in a cycle I don't even understand, and I should be happy but I'm not.
The sun is out and it's beautiful today, but my surrounding are lost one me. I make a sharp left and start down the path. I'm not even sure what I will encounter, but anything has to be better than this. | |
[WP] There is a narrow dark passage through the trees at the end of town. Anybody who has walked it, was never seen again, and presumed dead. Actually, they could come back anytime they want. They just choose not to. | *24th April*
 
A man emerged out of the dark woods on the outskirts of the town. He had worn clothes, covered with dirt and a long black beard, he was shabby. Children have gone through the dark passage in the woods before, never returning again. This was the first when someone has come from the other side. And I intend to meet this man. I suspect that he knows something about the uncanny woods, what lies beyond the dark veil at the end of a row of willow trees with dead branches hanging down.
The news said the man was admitted in the town hospital. No one knows him nor does he seem to remember anything about himself.
I sit on a chair beside his bed. He looks as if he had just fought a battle for his life and has endured, injured and now reviving. He doesn’t have the strength to speak for long nor does he have enough time left.
“Can you please tell me about the woods, what lies beyond it?”
The man didn’t reply. He had a look on his face as if he didn’t understand what I just said, like little infants. Maybe telling him my purpose would make him reveal something.
“My brother went missing two weeks ago. And I am looking for him since then. I think he might have gone into the woods. Can you please tell me who you are and whether you know something about the woods?”
I sat there waiting for a response but he didn’t utter a single word. The expressions on his face were hollow and his eyes seemed dead. He was in some state of shock. A feeling of regret sparked within me; maybe I shouldn’t have come here, it was a waste of my ever decreasing time. I decided to leave and got up; my hopes to gain information from this man were gone.
“Wait”, said the man as I turned the knob of his room’s door.
A little spark of hope was rekindled within me, maybe he does know something. I turned around to listen to the man.
“Can you tell me what’s the date?” asked the man.
“It’s 24th Of April”
“Year?”
“2018”
The man picked up a book kept on a table next to him and started writing in it. I left.
I went home and made myself comfortable on my bed. I was tired but had not given up on my brother, I will go to the forest tomorrow myself and won’t rest until I bring him back home.
 
*25th April*
 
Its late at night, when the guards are asleep and it’s easy to slip into the forest, to slip into the devil’s territory when the devil walks upon these grounds to abduct innocent children. I don’t really expect to see any devil or monster but there must be something unscrupulous in these woods which has caused such discomfort to this town and I have come here to challenge that devil and to find my brother.
As I went down the narrow passage which goes into the forest, bordered with dead and pale willow trees and carpeted with remains of dead leaves and animals, I felt as if I was going deeper and deeper into the state of drowsiness. With every step I took, it became more difficult to take the next one. But I won’t let this wicked incantation of the dead trees to work upon me this easily. I pushed forward, deeper into the passage. But there are limits to what a teen like me could take. At one point my mind and body gave in to the wicked spell and fell on a pile of dirt and leaves.
I woke up on smooth grass and the warm sun sparkled the dew on the grass. I got up and found myself in the backyard of a house. It was a very calm place with grass below my feet and a warm sun in a clear sky, it felt like a calm dream. Someone came out of the house and called out my name, it was a woman and I couldn’t see her face due to the glare of the sun. I followed her into the house and I saw my little brother on a table having a meal with my father. I stood in one place for a few seconds, stuck to the ground with shock, wondering whether it was a dream or was it all real cause my parents had died in plane crash years ago. I stood there with a cocktail of emotions being stirred within me. My mother whisked me by the shoulder and placed me on a chair next to my brother.
“Now have your breakfast, quick” said my mother.
It was overwhelming to find my lost family again. Maybe life has given me a second chance and I must decide to accept it or not.
My family had left me once but I won't do the same to them. I decide to stay here with them.
 
*24th April 2018*
 
Today I woke up early for my morning jog. As I ran down the road on the outskirts of the town with trees on either side, I noticed a very beautiful narrow passage going into the forest lined with cherry blossom trees. It stood out from the rest of the green forest. I went down the passage and with every step I felt like falling into a sweet sleep. At one point I fell on the ground, unconscious.
I woke up when it was dark. I felt strange and weird. I was still in the woods. I turned around and walked back the same way I had come in. I saw dead willow trees instead of cherry blossoms and with every step I took a fragment of my memory withered and disappeared. By the time I reached the road at the end of the passage I had forgotten all those years I had spent with my family. I was in a new place now. I went into the passage as a young teen and now I come out of it as a grown man with shabby clothes and a long black beard. This new body isn't mine but neither do I remember my old self. I just remember my family.
I am admitted in some hospital. A young man had come to meet me, inquiring about the woods and something about his lost brother, but I couldn’t help him and he left without gaining anything from me. I didn’t know the young man nor did I know anything about his brother but I was sorry for him and prayed that he finds his brother soon. But I am now in a new world, lost from my family.
| At the end of a rural town in the middle of nowhere, USA, lies a narrow path that leads into the deep dark depths of a gloomy forest. Nobody knows for sure what lies at it's end, as the few who do go down it's trail never bother to return.
A place like this would have intrigued many adventurers and thrill seekers alike; Perhaps even the investigative forces of the government, had it's existence been known to them. But the path remains a well kept secret, shared only by the residents of the small rural town.
A curious custom among them is that when a resident reaches the age of one hundred, (and they all do) they are to be fashioned with a communication device and sent to make their way into the depths of the dark path.
Those who walk in only very rarely reply to the curious calls of the communication devices. The few who do, often the less senile, do so with slurred words and unintelligible language. At around three kilometers in, all communication is lost forever. But before the red dot on the GPS scanner beeps for one last time, a youthful voice can be heard on the line:
"Hello? Where are all of you? I'm on the other side of town."
| |
[WP] There is a narrow dark passage through the trees at the end of town. Anybody who has walked it, was never seen again, and presumed dead. Actually, they could come back anytime they want. They just choose not to. | Every town has its stories, and ours was no different. I've grew up hearing about people who go missing whilst walking past The Gap, but to me it was all an old wives tale until my brother, Casey disappeared. He and his friends were playing truth or dare, and dared him to go and walk up by The Gap. Well that's as good as a death sentence where I live, nobody who has ever walked past The Gap has ever came back.
Its been 11 years since then, and I believe it about as much as I did then; not at all. I know my brother's alive, there is no way I wouldn't know if he wasn't. Anyway life for me has been rather empty since my brother died, I carried on through school, but we moved away from Redditch a year after Casey went missing. I managed to land a great job for someone a year out of school, because I'm currently not going to university and can work every hour they throw at me. After about 3 months I decided to visit Redditch again, I'd kept in touch with a few people and it had been years since I'd seen them, but I also wanted to visit The Gap. Its crazy but I felt like it'd give me an idea about what really happened that day. I walked through a small familiar square filled with the same shops from my childhood. I walked up the winding path next to the woods where The Gap lies, and found it in no time. There seemed to be no one hiding anywhere so I approached the gap, as I drew level and poked my head around, I saw a glitter of light, as if sunlight off metal, is it a knife?! No, a... door handle? I rounded the corner, into the Gap itself, and reached for the handle, warm to the touch, it glided open effortlessly. A vast expanse of enchanting meadows, and blossoming lakes filled my vision, and in the distance, a mystical forest far bigger than the woods surrounding The Gap. Without hesitation I walked through the doorway, the door swinging shut behind me, and continued to marvel at the beauty of the landscape before me as I walked down a wonderful country path. In the distance on the edge of the water is a large wooden lakehouse, I decided to walk down and ask whoever lives there where exactly we were. As I approached the front of the house, a man chopping wood in front of his house greeted me eyes, at last someone whom he could question.
"Excuse me Sir, but where the hell am I?"
As he turned, comprehension dawned on both of our faces, we knew each other very well.
"Jesus, is it really you Nathan?" Said the man who's face, minus the fact he had a thick beard, looked so much like mine. I was speechless, it was a few seconds before I managed to spit out "I knew it! For fuck sake Casey, why haven't you come back? Mom and dad have been torn apart since you left, they think you're dead!"
There was shock on his face, and then he spoke very quietly "I guess I never thought about it like that, I didn't want them thinking I was dead. But this place is amazing, Nate! Honestly take a walk around with me and find out"
"Take a walk?!" I started, but Casey silenced me
"Trust me, come on. There's so much I've got to show you about this place!"
__________________________________
Part Two coming very soon!
| At the end of a rural town in the middle of nowhere, USA, lies a narrow path that leads into the deep dark depths of a gloomy forest. Nobody knows for sure what lies at it's end, as the few who do go down it's trail never bother to return.
A place like this would have intrigued many adventurers and thrill seekers alike; Perhaps even the investigative forces of the government, had it's existence been known to them. But the path remains a well kept secret, shared only by the residents of the small rural town.
A curious custom among them is that when a resident reaches the age of one hundred, (and they all do) they are to be fashioned with a communication device and sent to make their way into the depths of the dark path.
Those who walk in only very rarely reply to the curious calls of the communication devices. The few who do, often the less senile, do so with slurred words and unintelligible language. At around three kilometers in, all communication is lost forever. But before the red dot on the GPS scanner beeps for one last time, a youthful voice can be heard on the line:
"Hello? Where are all of you? I'm on the other side of town."
| |
[WP] There is a narrow dark passage through the trees at the end of town. Anybody who has walked it, was never seen again, and presumed dead. Actually, they could come back anytime they want. They just choose not to. | I didn't go to the funeral.
Josiah said he saw Danny in the woods with a backpack slung over his shoulder. The cops found footsteps heading toward the dark passage. They shook their heads sorrowfully and said it was a tragedy, but understandable, really, with the way he'd been unstable ever since his parents died.
If Danny had been eaten by grim-hollows or claimed by the lamia, I would have understood. I would have even accepted it if he'd been poisoned by the light of the red moon, and that didn't happen these days unless you were really careless.
But this... Danny had to go through that passage from which no one ever returned. He'd died in the one way that's avoidable in this town.
He'd died because he'd chosen to leave me.
Eventually, I forgave him. I found a new best friend. I kissed a boy for the first time, and if he wasn't the boy I wanted, if he dumped me at prom for that girl who turned out to be a host for the Clew, at least he'd been alive.
Then I got the postcard. The picture showed a town where tall buildings stretched toward a blue sky. The people in the pictures were the strangest things I'd ever seen: they milled around, laughing, enjoying themselves. They wore bright colors -- didn't they know that attracted the predators? None of them wore masks to protect themselves from the air.
The back had a familiar cursive scrawl.
*Beth,*
*It's not what you think. The passage leads to a different world, a better one. There are no horrors here.*
*I miss you. I have so much I want to tell you. Please come.*
*Love,*
*Danny*
I can't stop thinking about that postcard. I think about what it would be like to live in a world without monsters, a world where people can walk under the sky without fear. I imagine what it would be like to see Danny again, to talk to my best friend again and maybe, to discover what it means that he signed his letter "love".
But then I think about the passage that swallows the light, how hungry it always looks, and I think, what if it's all a lie? And then I shiver, knowing that I'll never go find out. | At the end of a rural town in the middle of nowhere, USA, lies a narrow path that leads into the deep dark depths of a gloomy forest. Nobody knows for sure what lies at it's end, as the few who do go down it's trail never bother to return.
A place like this would have intrigued many adventurers and thrill seekers alike; Perhaps even the investigative forces of the government, had it's existence been known to them. But the path remains a well kept secret, shared only by the residents of the small rural town.
A curious custom among them is that when a resident reaches the age of one hundred, (and they all do) they are to be fashioned with a communication device and sent to make their way into the depths of the dark path.
Those who walk in only very rarely reply to the curious calls of the communication devices. The few who do, often the less senile, do so with slurred words and unintelligible language. At around three kilometers in, all communication is lost forever. But before the red dot on the GPS scanner beeps for one last time, a youthful voice can be heard on the line:
"Hello? Where are all of you? I'm on the other side of town."
| |
[WP] There is a narrow dark passage through the trees at the end of town. Anybody who has walked it, was never seen again, and presumed dead. Actually, they could come back anytime they want. They just choose not to. | *24th April*
 
A man emerged out of the dark woods on the outskirts of the town. He had worn clothes, covered with dirt and a long black beard, he was shabby. Children have gone through the dark passage in the woods before, never returning again. This was the first when someone has come from the other side. And I intend to meet this man. I suspect that he knows something about the uncanny woods, what lies beyond the dark veil at the end of a row of willow trees with dead branches hanging down.
The news said the man was admitted in the town hospital. No one knows him nor does he seem to remember anything about himself.
I sit on a chair beside his bed. He looks as if he had just fought a battle for his life and has endured, injured and now reviving. He doesn’t have the strength to speak for long nor does he have enough time left.
“Can you please tell me about the woods, what lies beyond it?”
The man didn’t reply. He had a look on his face as if he didn’t understand what I just said, like little infants. Maybe telling him my purpose would make him reveal something.
“My brother went missing two weeks ago. And I am looking for him since then. I think he might have gone into the woods. Can you please tell me who you are and whether you know something about the woods?”
I sat there waiting for a response but he didn’t utter a single word. The expressions on his face were hollow and his eyes seemed dead. He was in some state of shock. A feeling of regret sparked within me; maybe I shouldn’t have come here, it was a waste of my ever decreasing time. I decided to leave and got up; my hopes to gain information from this man were gone.
“Wait”, said the man as I turned the knob of his room’s door.
A little spark of hope was rekindled within me, maybe he does know something. I turned around to listen to the man.
“Can you tell me what’s the date?” asked the man.
“It’s 24th Of April”
“Year?”
“2018”
The man picked up a book kept on a table next to him and started writing in it. I left.
I went home and made myself comfortable on my bed. I was tired but had not given up on my brother, I will go to the forest tomorrow myself and won’t rest until I bring him back home.
 
*25th April*
 
Its late at night, when the guards are asleep and it’s easy to slip into the forest, to slip into the devil’s territory when the devil walks upon these grounds to abduct innocent children. I don’t really expect to see any devil or monster but there must be something unscrupulous in these woods which has caused such discomfort to this town and I have come here to challenge that devil and to find my brother.
As I went down the narrow passage which goes into the forest, bordered with dead and pale willow trees and carpeted with remains of dead leaves and animals, I felt as if I was going deeper and deeper into the state of drowsiness. With every step I took, it became more difficult to take the next one. But I won’t let this wicked incantation of the dead trees to work upon me this easily. I pushed forward, deeper into the passage. But there are limits to what a teen like me could take. At one point my mind and body gave in to the wicked spell and fell on a pile of dirt and leaves.
I woke up on smooth grass and the warm sun sparkled the dew on the grass. I got up and found myself in the backyard of a house. It was a very calm place with grass below my feet and a warm sun in a clear sky, it felt like a calm dream. Someone came out of the house and called out my name, it was a woman and I couldn’t see her face due to the glare of the sun. I followed her into the house and I saw my little brother on a table having a meal with my father. I stood in one place for a few seconds, stuck to the ground with shock, wondering whether it was a dream or was it all real cause my parents had died in plane crash years ago. I stood there with a cocktail of emotions being stirred within me. My mother whisked me by the shoulder and placed me on a chair next to my brother.
“Now have your breakfast, quick” said my mother.
It was overwhelming to find my lost family again. Maybe life has given me a second chance and I must decide to accept it or not.
My family had left me once but I won't do the same to them. I decide to stay here with them.
 
*24th April 2018*
 
Today I woke up early for my morning jog. As I ran down the road on the outskirts of the town with trees on either side, I noticed a very beautiful narrow passage going into the forest lined with cherry blossom trees. It stood out from the rest of the green forest. I went down the passage and with every step I felt like falling into a sweet sleep. At one point I fell on the ground, unconscious.
I woke up when it was dark. I felt strange and weird. I was still in the woods. I turned around and walked back the same way I had come in. I saw dead willow trees instead of cherry blossoms and with every step I took a fragment of my memory withered and disappeared. By the time I reached the road at the end of the passage I had forgotten all those years I had spent with my family. I was in a new place now. I went into the passage as a young teen and now I come out of it as a grown man with shabby clothes and a long black beard. This new body isn't mine but neither do I remember my old self. I just remember my family.
I am admitted in some hospital. A young man had come to meet me, inquiring about the woods and something about his lost brother, but I couldn’t help him and he left without gaining anything from me. I didn’t know the young man nor did I know anything about his brother but I was sorry for him and prayed that he finds his brother soon. But I am now in a new world, lost from my family.
| "I tell ye yung ones, the path betwin these dark and berin trees be the path teh the underworld! Na'h one who's eveah gone in tech there has evar come back."
The old hermit would always stand in front of the path. He would always tell the kids that story, and we all believed it. This place is better. We don't have to deal with the horrors that lurk beyond this path.
Yet for some curiosity gets the better of them. The path goes by a few names. Dead Man's walk, Suicide Lane, The Very Dark Very Scary Path to Who Knows Where (OrTVDSPWKW for short), but no matter who you talked to, and no matter what they called it, you could always call it Druids Way and they would know what you were talking about.
Life has always been difficult here. There is very little water, we scrounge food from bugs and our dead. The cave we live in is either a furnace or an ice box, depending on season, and clothing is a luxury only the most well off can afford, but we are safe from the demons and monsters that lie outside from the cave.
Or that's what I thought.
One day i had enough! I was losing my damn mind. From the half a handful of water I could scrounge together for the past two days and the three earthworms and an ant I had for dinner lunch and breakfast yesterday I had finally had enough. I thought to myself "How tough can one demon be?" Surely if I took my pointier stick and a heavy enough rock I could take it out and the village could feast for a year!" That is how I decided to walk Dead Man's Walk.
Yet when I came out the other side I didn't see demons and monsters, corpses walking and a horned goat man laughing while sitting upon a pile of skulls. I saw a... well I didn't have a word for it at the time. I believe it was a grape orchard. And a lake so large that a village of a thousand could drink to their heart's content and it still wouldn't run dry. Suddenly a scent caught my attention. It was the sweetest, most delicious scent I had ever smelled. It smelled like... well the scent was indescribable. Imagine getting a back massage from a hot spring. Now compared to this scent that was like a spit in the face and a harsh slap on the cheek.
Quickly I ran to the scent to find a roasted rack of meat. Around it a dozen or so people were talking. But the people had such fine clothing that I had to take a step back. The dark blacks and pure whites. Hell, they wore Colors I had never scene before. The experience was like finding out you had a secret other bank account with more money that you knew existed,
By this point I was on my hands and knees crying, no! I was weeping. It must have been true. I had died. Surely this is what the after life was like. Just the most beautiful people, wearing the most beautiful clothing, eating food that no one knew existed. No one covered in dirt, missing teeth they pulled out for a meal, or eating bugs flavored with dirt.
Than one of the heavenly figures came over to me and said something to me that I couldn't understand. This mud have been a cruel joke. I entered the blessed after life and it would be denied to me merely because I didn't speak their language.
With tears in my eyes and a hiccup in my voice I said to the man "I'm sorry, I do not understand.".
His face suddenly lit up, and he said "Oh you must have come from the village beyond those trees. The one that we don't enter."
"Yes!" I said with a tidal wave or despair just washing off of me. "That is where I came from, back when I was still living. Why, do you know of it?"
"Know of it, yes. My father went there one day and never came back. We went to plea with him to come back home but he never did." He looked down as if trying to remember something. "I believe he stood near the pathway and would tell stories to the kids."
"The old Druid? Ah yes everyone knew him. He would stand near the pathway and tell everyone that past the trees was certain death. No one dared to pass through out of fear of throwing our lives away. And no one who ever went through ever returned. We all assumed the old Druid was right and they had all died."
"Ah no, they are not dead, they are here now. Half the people at this party are from that village. I have felt so bad about my father's lies to your people that I built this estate for when you chose to leave the village. Please partake in the food, it is the least my family owes to you."
"But I must know why you never came back and told us that outside is not death?"
His face fell at this point. "We tried, but every time we were stabbed with pointy sticks and call demons, it never convinced anyone to come out sadly." | |
[WP] There is a narrow dark passage through the trees at the end of town. Anybody who has walked it, was never seen again, and presumed dead. Actually, they could come back anytime they want. They just choose not to. | I didn't go to the funeral.
Josiah said he saw Danny in the woods with a backpack slung over his shoulder. The cops found footsteps heading toward the dark passage. They shook their heads sorrowfully and said it was a tragedy, but understandable, really, with the way he'd been unstable ever since his parents died.
If Danny had been eaten by grim-hollows or claimed by the lamia, I would have understood. I would have even accepted it if he'd been poisoned by the light of the red moon, and that didn't happen these days unless you were really careless.
But this... Danny had to go through that passage from which no one ever returned. He'd died in the one way that's avoidable in this town.
He'd died because he'd chosen to leave me.
Eventually, I forgave him. I found a new best friend. I kissed a boy for the first time, and if he wasn't the boy I wanted, if he dumped me at prom for that girl who turned out to be a host for the Clew, at least he'd been alive.
Then I got the postcard. The picture showed a town where tall buildings stretched toward a blue sky. The people in the pictures were the strangest things I'd ever seen: they milled around, laughing, enjoying themselves. They wore bright colors -- didn't they know that attracted the predators? None of them wore masks to protect themselves from the air.
The back had a familiar cursive scrawl.
*Beth,*
*It's not what you think. The passage leads to a different world, a better one. There are no horrors here.*
*I miss you. I have so much I want to tell you. Please come.*
*Love,*
*Danny*
I can't stop thinking about that postcard. I think about what it would be like to live in a world without monsters, a world where people can walk under the sky without fear. I imagine what it would be like to see Danny again, to talk to my best friend again and maybe, to discover what it means that he signed his letter "love".
But then I think about the passage that swallows the light, how hungry it always looks, and I think, what if it's all a lie? And then I shiver, knowing that I'll never go find out. | "I tell ye yung ones, the path betwin these dark and berin trees be the path teh the underworld! Na'h one who's eveah gone in tech there has evar come back."
The old hermit would always stand in front of the path. He would always tell the kids that story, and we all believed it. This place is better. We don't have to deal with the horrors that lurk beyond this path.
Yet for some curiosity gets the better of them. The path goes by a few names. Dead Man's walk, Suicide Lane, The Very Dark Very Scary Path to Who Knows Where (OrTVDSPWKW for short), but no matter who you talked to, and no matter what they called it, you could always call it Druids Way and they would know what you were talking about.
Life has always been difficult here. There is very little water, we scrounge food from bugs and our dead. The cave we live in is either a furnace or an ice box, depending on season, and clothing is a luxury only the most well off can afford, but we are safe from the demons and monsters that lie outside from the cave.
Or that's what I thought.
One day i had enough! I was losing my damn mind. From the half a handful of water I could scrounge together for the past two days and the three earthworms and an ant I had for dinner lunch and breakfast yesterday I had finally had enough. I thought to myself "How tough can one demon be?" Surely if I took my pointier stick and a heavy enough rock I could take it out and the village could feast for a year!" That is how I decided to walk Dead Man's Walk.
Yet when I came out the other side I didn't see demons and monsters, corpses walking and a horned goat man laughing while sitting upon a pile of skulls. I saw a... well I didn't have a word for it at the time. I believe it was a grape orchard. And a lake so large that a village of a thousand could drink to their heart's content and it still wouldn't run dry. Suddenly a scent caught my attention. It was the sweetest, most delicious scent I had ever smelled. It smelled like... well the scent was indescribable. Imagine getting a back massage from a hot spring. Now compared to this scent that was like a spit in the face and a harsh slap on the cheek.
Quickly I ran to the scent to find a roasted rack of meat. Around it a dozen or so people were talking. But the people had such fine clothing that I had to take a step back. The dark blacks and pure whites. Hell, they wore Colors I had never scene before. The experience was like finding out you had a secret other bank account with more money that you knew existed,
By this point I was on my hands and knees crying, no! I was weeping. It must have been true. I had died. Surely this is what the after life was like. Just the most beautiful people, wearing the most beautiful clothing, eating food that no one knew existed. No one covered in dirt, missing teeth they pulled out for a meal, or eating bugs flavored with dirt.
Than one of the heavenly figures came over to me and said something to me that I couldn't understand. This mud have been a cruel joke. I entered the blessed after life and it would be denied to me merely because I didn't speak their language.
With tears in my eyes and a hiccup in my voice I said to the man "I'm sorry, I do not understand.".
His face suddenly lit up, and he said "Oh you must have come from the village beyond those trees. The one that we don't enter."
"Yes!" I said with a tidal wave or despair just washing off of me. "That is where I came from, back when I was still living. Why, do you know of it?"
"Know of it, yes. My father went there one day and never came back. We went to plea with him to come back home but he never did." He looked down as if trying to remember something. "I believe he stood near the pathway and would tell stories to the kids."
"The old Druid? Ah yes everyone knew him. He would stand near the pathway and tell everyone that past the trees was certain death. No one dared to pass through out of fear of throwing our lives away. And no one who ever went through ever returned. We all assumed the old Druid was right and they had all died."
"Ah no, they are not dead, they are here now. Half the people at this party are from that village. I have felt so bad about my father's lies to your people that I built this estate for when you chose to leave the village. Please partake in the food, it is the least my family owes to you."
"But I must know why you never came back and told us that outside is not death?"
His face fell at this point. "We tried, but every time we were stabbed with pointy sticks and call demons, it never convinced anyone to come out sadly." | |
[WP] There is a narrow dark passage through the trees at the end of town. Anybody who has walked it, was never seen again, and presumed dead. Actually, they could come back anytime they want. They just choose not to. | *24th April*
 
A man emerged out of the dark woods on the outskirts of the town. He had worn clothes, covered with dirt and a long black beard, he was shabby. Children have gone through the dark passage in the woods before, never returning again. This was the first when someone has come from the other side. And I intend to meet this man. I suspect that he knows something about the uncanny woods, what lies beyond the dark veil at the end of a row of willow trees with dead branches hanging down.
The news said the man was admitted in the town hospital. No one knows him nor does he seem to remember anything about himself.
I sit on a chair beside his bed. He looks as if he had just fought a battle for his life and has endured, injured and now reviving. He doesn’t have the strength to speak for long nor does he have enough time left.
“Can you please tell me about the woods, what lies beyond it?”
The man didn’t reply. He had a look on his face as if he didn’t understand what I just said, like little infants. Maybe telling him my purpose would make him reveal something.
“My brother went missing two weeks ago. And I am looking for him since then. I think he might have gone into the woods. Can you please tell me who you are and whether you know something about the woods?”
I sat there waiting for a response but he didn’t utter a single word. The expressions on his face were hollow and his eyes seemed dead. He was in some state of shock. A feeling of regret sparked within me; maybe I shouldn’t have come here, it was a waste of my ever decreasing time. I decided to leave and got up; my hopes to gain information from this man were gone.
“Wait”, said the man as I turned the knob of his room’s door.
A little spark of hope was rekindled within me, maybe he does know something. I turned around to listen to the man.
“Can you tell me what’s the date?” asked the man.
“It’s 24th Of April”
“Year?”
“2018”
The man picked up a book kept on a table next to him and started writing in it. I left.
I went home and made myself comfortable on my bed. I was tired but had not given up on my brother, I will go to the forest tomorrow myself and won’t rest until I bring him back home.
 
*25th April*
 
Its late at night, when the guards are asleep and it’s easy to slip into the forest, to slip into the devil’s territory when the devil walks upon these grounds to abduct innocent children. I don’t really expect to see any devil or monster but there must be something unscrupulous in these woods which has caused such discomfort to this town and I have come here to challenge that devil and to find my brother.
As I went down the narrow passage which goes into the forest, bordered with dead and pale willow trees and carpeted with remains of dead leaves and animals, I felt as if I was going deeper and deeper into the state of drowsiness. With every step I took, it became more difficult to take the next one. But I won’t let this wicked incantation of the dead trees to work upon me this easily. I pushed forward, deeper into the passage. But there are limits to what a teen like me could take. At one point my mind and body gave in to the wicked spell and fell on a pile of dirt and leaves.
I woke up on smooth grass and the warm sun sparkled the dew on the grass. I got up and found myself in the backyard of a house. It was a very calm place with grass below my feet and a warm sun in a clear sky, it felt like a calm dream. Someone came out of the house and called out my name, it was a woman and I couldn’t see her face due to the glare of the sun. I followed her into the house and I saw my little brother on a table having a meal with my father. I stood in one place for a few seconds, stuck to the ground with shock, wondering whether it was a dream or was it all real cause my parents had died in plane crash years ago. I stood there with a cocktail of emotions being stirred within me. My mother whisked me by the shoulder and placed me on a chair next to my brother.
“Now have your breakfast, quick” said my mother.
It was overwhelming to find my lost family again. Maybe life has given me a second chance and I must decide to accept it or not.
My family had left me once but I won't do the same to them. I decide to stay here with them.
 
*24th April 2018*
 
Today I woke up early for my morning jog. As I ran down the road on the outskirts of the town with trees on either side, I noticed a very beautiful narrow passage going into the forest lined with cherry blossom trees. It stood out from the rest of the green forest. I went down the passage and with every step I felt like falling into a sweet sleep. At one point I fell on the ground, unconscious.
I woke up when it was dark. I felt strange and weird. I was still in the woods. I turned around and walked back the same way I had come in. I saw dead willow trees instead of cherry blossoms and with every step I took a fragment of my memory withered and disappeared. By the time I reached the road at the end of the passage I had forgotten all those years I had spent with my family. I was in a new place now. I went into the passage as a young teen and now I come out of it as a grown man with shabby clothes and a long black beard. This new body isn't mine but neither do I remember my old self. I just remember my family.
I am admitted in some hospital. A young man had come to meet me, inquiring about the woods and something about his lost brother, but I couldn’t help him and he left without gaining anything from me. I didn’t know the young man nor did I know anything about his brother but I was sorry for him and prayed that he finds his brother soon. But I am now in a new world, lost from my family.
| Birch cut into a thick piece of bark with his large carpenter's knife. Wind beat against the small hut and thunder cracked off in the distance. The candle’s flame sputtered.
Birch’s little sister cried from the bed in the corner of the hut. Her mother cradled her. His father snored, accustomed to storms and crying children and worn down by the day's hard labor.
Birch was finally a man. He had gone through the initiation ceremony. He was his father's woodworking apprentice now. He widdled a small piece of wood, sharpening his skills. Soon he would build a new hut all by himself.
He didn’t feel like a man, whatever the feeling was supposed to be. He wanted to run through the forests and swim in the creeks, not build huts and utensils for the village. But this was his fate now.
“Go to bed, son,” his mother said.
Birch nodded, set aside the wood and blade and blew out the candle.
Laying in bed, his mind turned to the dark passage.
Aldor, his best friend, was gone. They talked about going together many times. But one day, Aldor disappeared. They said he went through the dark gates of hell--that’s what the elders called it. A pure evil that consumed those that ventured there.
Birch missed Aldor. They had many adventures. He was angry he went without him.
Lightning cracked and sent a shiver down his spine. The wind sang its haunting song.
He got up and grabbed his knife, strapping it to his belt. He crept to the door. He looked back at his sleeping family.
*I'll be back soon.*
Birch ran through the dark forest, jumping over deadfall and snaking his way through poison ivy--he knew every nook and cranny.
The dark passage lay before him. He grabbed the hilt of his knife.
He looked back towards the village, towards his family. He thought of the tales of hell, of demons lurking in the passage. But he was a man now. He would go and rescue Aldor and the others from the dark depths.
Birch entered the tree-lined passage. It narrowed with every step. Around a bend, he saw a golden glow. He heard laughter. He squeezed his body through the trees and stepped into a large cave.
“Birch!” Aldor yelled.
All the missing villagers were seated around a large fire. They were feasting on many different delicacies. There were beautiful men and women he did not recognize serving them.
“Aldor, my friend. What is this place?”
Aldor smiled and pointed to a corner of the cave where a blue light shimmered.
“That portal there, it brings us all we desire. Just think it and it will appear.”
Birch thought of a roast boar. A beautiful woman materialized, holding a large platter.
He dug his teeth into the hot meat while his gaze fell upon the beautiful maiden’s silky smooth skin.
Between mouthfuls, he announced, “We must let our families know of this place!”
All the villagers stopped their merriment.
“If you tell of this place, the spell will be broken,” all the villagers said in unison.
The maiden sat in Birch’s lap. He shrugged his shoulders.
*I’ll get my fill, then leave. I am a man now. I choose. Besides, the village will be fine without me, for a little while. Just a little while.*
| |
[WP] There is a narrow dark passage through the trees at the end of town. Anybody who has walked it, was never seen again, and presumed dead. Actually, they could come back anytime they want. They just choose not to. | It's like a drug.
Think of the most addictive substance known to humanity, and multiply that by 10, or maybe 100. You never knew you needed something like this, until you experience it. Your mind adapts and then goes beyond any level of dependency, into the realm of absolute necessity. The uninitiated can never know the feeling, to know you can return, but realize that what you're returning to will never feel as good, or as right. To those who enter, going back would be returning to the worst imagined nightmare.
To be frank, even though the exit is always within reach, the only way to come back would be for someone to come for you,
*and pull you back.*
I decided to see the supposed "dark passage" the locals had been talking about for weeks. It was 15 minutes past the interstate, at the end of a farm, deep within the woods. In fact, the farmer was the first to discover it, and the first to go in.
At the time, I couldn't have cared less about some "magic Narnia portal", but my girlfriend of 3 years was obsessed since she had found out the night before. It was all she was talking about, and though I love that goof with every ounce of my soul, I was beginning to hate her for it, she'll never know how much it was annoying me, and she never will.
"Ah come on you pussy! It's only a couple minutes away! and we've even been in those woods before, memberrrr?
She leaned her head agains't my shoulder for the third time since got on the couch.
"Babe."
I gazed down at her puppy dog-like eyes. "What if this is just some made up BS? You know how they get with stuff like this. It's always 'aliens' or 'the russians' and it never turns into anything."
She shifted her gaze away to the t.v. There was several seconds of silence and she broke it with, "I want it to be my birthday present." I stared ahead, "Your birthday isn't even f-"
"I don't want anything, no chocolate, no flowers, no movies, no sex, just this." She sat up, putting her hands on my thigh looking as dead serious as she could manage.
I continued to stare ahead, pretending to watch whatever show we had on. Another brief silence and I turned to her.
"You're serious about this, suze?
"Super serial" she nodded with pursed lips.
"and if we go there, which is 15-20 minutes by the way, give or take with traffic and construction, we take a quick peek and come back so we can relax on our one day off together?"
"Mmhmm." she nodded again.
I let out a long sigh. "fine, but we leave in 5 minutes, so I c-"
She jumped at me, wrapping her arms around my neck, the force causing us to lay back out the couch.
We kissed for the last time.
The drive took 25 minutes, and the closer we got, the more cars we saw. Before long, as the outskirts of the farm appeared in the morning mist. We saw what can only be rivaled by a wal-mart parking lot. RV's and campers, minivans, and stationwagons. Lifted trucks and tractors from every nearby farm. It looked like the whole town decided to swarm in today.
"I'm regretting this already."
"Shhush you." "Just the more reason we had to come."
"I guess." I let out another long sigh, and turned off the highway onto the dirt road.
Finding a place to park wasn't hard, but when we walked out behind the farmhouse and to the edge of the treeline, we could already hear the crowd deeper within the forest. Someone had set up an impromptu path leading towards the site. It was wooden stakes and reflective tape tying them together. Trailing off into the unknown misty woods, like some backwoods horror tale. The 'footpath' was muddy and littered with trash already. Cardboard signs dotted the path as we sloshed along. "PASSAGE AHEAD", "GODS STAIRWAY TO HEAVEN", "$5.00 ADMISHUN"(I laughed, despite being nervous, and still anooyed at the whole ordeal).
We walked hand in hand, until the mist slowly revealed a crowd of at least 80, or maybe even 100. This town really did come out in full force. "Come on, I wanna see it up close."
"Careful suze" I said, but she was ignoring me, determined to get a better view.
The crowd was all murmuring and talking amongst themselves. Some had set up camp, and many were just standing along a large line that we were approaching. We got to said line and Suzy pulled me through the bodies, bumping and nudging them aside to a few grumbles and obscenities. We stopped as the taped stakes ended, and a circle of caution tape wound around a single old tree.
It was enormous. Not redwood enormous, but the biggest tree I had ever seen. It was dead. Grey and twisted, not a leaf to be found. You could make out a small trail of muddy footprints leading right to it, and right at the base was a black hole about the size of a person. It was the blackest and darkest thing I could possibly imagine. Even from this distance it almost hurt to look directly into. Looking up, a black aura was surrounding the entire tree, up to the tops of the gnarled limbs. Like it was glowing shadow.
I tried to make further sense of what I was looking at and Suzy suddenly ducked under the tape and pulled my hand along with her.
"Babe, wait up! I don't think we should be getting this close."
She was almost dragging me now, her frenzied walk turning into a slow jog, our feet kicking up mud everywhere.
"SUZY!" "PLEASE STOP"
Before I could say yell anything more, we we're already at the base of the tree and her hand slipped out of mine. This was happening so quickly, I didn't know what to even do. I watched in some state of awe, or high, or fever dream like trance, as Suzy slowly stepped towards the dark. her hand still behind her.
"Suzy, you can't just walk in there, what are you even doing?"
She was inches from the black mass of the hole, and she placed her hand on the bark. Her hair was beginning to blow forward, like air was being sucked in towards the void.
I could hear whispers, what sounded like the whispers of women, no it was childrens voices. Unintelligible, all speaking at once. It would have chilled me to the bone, had I been focusing on anything but her.
I called out one last time, reaching for her hand. "Don't go in Suzy!" My fingertips grazed hers, and she fell forward. Like someone dropping on a mattress, or a pool, her body plunging into the disappearing into the darkness.
"SUZY!"
I desperately tried to reach for her as she fell, but I felt a tug on my waist and then my arm by my side. In my daze, I didn't realize several police officers and one firefighter running up behind us. I looked over my shoulder to acknowledge their presence, but Suzy was my only concern. As they pulled I pushed forward with all my strength, my feet slipping on the mud. Their grips slipped too, the mud getting over everything. I strained and yelled out "arghhhhhh" reaching just far enough with my outstretched hand to grab the closest low branch. Using the leverage, I continued to strain, pulling forward just enough as the two men struggled to grab my mud soaked body. I pulled with all I had and my head dipped into the black of the portal.
I was somewhere else.
I didn't know what I was looking at initially. I was inside a building. There we tables upon tables, and what looked like families gathered around them. Plates with pizza slices and empty sodas covered them too, scattered piles of presents and wrapping paper. There was a stage at the end of the room with animals, no, people in fur suits moving like robots.
I realized where I was. A Chuck E. Cheese.
The table closest to me had a group of small girls, giggling and huddling around one in particular. The birthday girl. She was blonde with a party hat on, and she was absolutely tearing apart her presents, furiously unwrapping one with a wild grin on her face. As she revealed the gift, and the girls all looked shocked. It became obvious where and when I was.
I had seen this photo hanging on the mantle of her parents house, hundreds of times. A 8th birthday party for a special little girl, her friends all jealous of the cheap easy-bake oven she had gotten. It was one of her early memories as a child, she told me that one of her friends took the oven out of the package before she had a chance, and they got into a fight.
"Suzy?" I whispered under my breath.
I could feel the men behind still grabbing on as I was gradually tugged back through.
Before my head could eclipse the portal, Suzy looked up at me, instantly disconnected from the scene.
Her stare was frightening, pure hatred. Like I had just murdered her father.
*"Leave."* she said bluntly.
I fell backwards onto the two men in the mud, looking up at the dried canopy of branches. They were moving like fingers.
| Birch cut into a thick piece of bark with his large carpenter's knife. Wind beat against the small hut and thunder cracked off in the distance. The candle’s flame sputtered.
Birch’s little sister cried from the bed in the corner of the hut. Her mother cradled her. His father snored, accustomed to storms and crying children and worn down by the day's hard labor.
Birch was finally a man. He had gone through the initiation ceremony. He was his father's woodworking apprentice now. He widdled a small piece of wood, sharpening his skills. Soon he would build a new hut all by himself.
He didn’t feel like a man, whatever the feeling was supposed to be. He wanted to run through the forests and swim in the creeks, not build huts and utensils for the village. But this was his fate now.
“Go to bed, son,” his mother said.
Birch nodded, set aside the wood and blade and blew out the candle.
Laying in bed, his mind turned to the dark passage.
Aldor, his best friend, was gone. They talked about going together many times. But one day, Aldor disappeared. They said he went through the dark gates of hell--that’s what the elders called it. A pure evil that consumed those that ventured there.
Birch missed Aldor. They had many adventures. He was angry he went without him.
Lightning cracked and sent a shiver down his spine. The wind sang its haunting song.
He got up and grabbed his knife, strapping it to his belt. He crept to the door. He looked back at his sleeping family.
*I'll be back soon.*
Birch ran through the dark forest, jumping over deadfall and snaking his way through poison ivy--he knew every nook and cranny.
The dark passage lay before him. He grabbed the hilt of his knife.
He looked back towards the village, towards his family. He thought of the tales of hell, of demons lurking in the passage. But he was a man now. He would go and rescue Aldor and the others from the dark depths.
Birch entered the tree-lined passage. It narrowed with every step. Around a bend, he saw a golden glow. He heard laughter. He squeezed his body through the trees and stepped into a large cave.
“Birch!” Aldor yelled.
All the missing villagers were seated around a large fire. They were feasting on many different delicacies. There were beautiful men and women he did not recognize serving them.
“Aldor, my friend. What is this place?”
Aldor smiled and pointed to a corner of the cave where a blue light shimmered.
“That portal there, it brings us all we desire. Just think it and it will appear.”
Birch thought of a roast boar. A beautiful woman materialized, holding a large platter.
He dug his teeth into the hot meat while his gaze fell upon the beautiful maiden’s silky smooth skin.
Between mouthfuls, he announced, “We must let our families know of this place!”
All the villagers stopped their merriment.
“If you tell of this place, the spell will be broken,” all the villagers said in unison.
The maiden sat in Birch’s lap. He shrugged his shoulders.
*I’ll get my fill, then leave. I am a man now. I choose. Besides, the village will be fine without me, for a little while. Just a little while.*
| |
[WP] There is a narrow dark passage through the trees at the end of town. Anybody who has walked it, was never seen again, and presumed dead. Actually, they could come back anytime they want. They just choose not to. | Every town has its stories, and ours was no different. I've grew up hearing about people who go missing whilst walking past The Gap, but to me it was all an old wives tale until my brother, Casey disappeared. He and his friends were playing truth or dare, and dared him to go and walk up by The Gap. Well that's as good as a death sentence where I live, nobody who has ever walked past The Gap has ever came back.
Its been 11 years since then, and I believe it about as much as I did then; not at all. I know my brother's alive, there is no way I wouldn't know if he wasn't. Anyway life for me has been rather empty since my brother died, I carried on through school, but we moved away from Redditch a year after Casey went missing. I managed to land a great job for someone a year out of school, because I'm currently not going to university and can work every hour they throw at me. After about 3 months I decided to visit Redditch again, I'd kept in touch with a few people and it had been years since I'd seen them, but I also wanted to visit The Gap. Its crazy but I felt like it'd give me an idea about what really happened that day. I walked through a small familiar square filled with the same shops from my childhood. I walked up the winding path next to the woods where The Gap lies, and found it in no time. There seemed to be no one hiding anywhere so I approached the gap, as I drew level and poked my head around, I saw a glitter of light, as if sunlight off metal, is it a knife?! No, a... door handle? I rounded the corner, into the Gap itself, and reached for the handle, warm to the touch, it glided open effortlessly. A vast expanse of enchanting meadows, and blossoming lakes filled my vision, and in the distance, a mystical forest far bigger than the woods surrounding The Gap. Without hesitation I walked through the doorway, the door swinging shut behind me, and continued to marvel at the beauty of the landscape before me as I walked down a wonderful country path. In the distance on the edge of the water is a large wooden lakehouse, I decided to walk down and ask whoever lives there where exactly we were. As I approached the front of the house, a man chopping wood in front of his house greeted me eyes, at last someone whom he could question.
"Excuse me Sir, but where the hell am I?"
As he turned, comprehension dawned on both of our faces, we knew each other very well.
"Jesus, is it really you Nathan?" Said the man who's face, minus the fact he had a thick beard, looked so much like mine. I was speechless, it was a few seconds before I managed to spit out "I knew it! For fuck sake Casey, why haven't you come back? Mom and dad have been torn apart since you left, they think you're dead!"
There was shock on his face, and then he spoke very quietly "I guess I never thought about it like that, I didn't want them thinking I was dead. But this place is amazing, Nate! Honestly take a walk around with me and find out"
"Take a walk?!" I started, but Casey silenced me
"Trust me, come on. There's so much I've got to show you about this place!"
__________________________________
Part Two coming very soon!
| Birch cut into a thick piece of bark with his large carpenter's knife. Wind beat against the small hut and thunder cracked off in the distance. The candle’s flame sputtered.
Birch’s little sister cried from the bed in the corner of the hut. Her mother cradled her. His father snored, accustomed to storms and crying children and worn down by the day's hard labor.
Birch was finally a man. He had gone through the initiation ceremony. He was his father's woodworking apprentice now. He widdled a small piece of wood, sharpening his skills. Soon he would build a new hut all by himself.
He didn’t feel like a man, whatever the feeling was supposed to be. He wanted to run through the forests and swim in the creeks, not build huts and utensils for the village. But this was his fate now.
“Go to bed, son,” his mother said.
Birch nodded, set aside the wood and blade and blew out the candle.
Laying in bed, his mind turned to the dark passage.
Aldor, his best friend, was gone. They talked about going together many times. But one day, Aldor disappeared. They said he went through the dark gates of hell--that’s what the elders called it. A pure evil that consumed those that ventured there.
Birch missed Aldor. They had many adventures. He was angry he went without him.
Lightning cracked and sent a shiver down his spine. The wind sang its haunting song.
He got up and grabbed his knife, strapping it to his belt. He crept to the door. He looked back at his sleeping family.
*I'll be back soon.*
Birch ran through the dark forest, jumping over deadfall and snaking his way through poison ivy--he knew every nook and cranny.
The dark passage lay before him. He grabbed the hilt of his knife.
He looked back towards the village, towards his family. He thought of the tales of hell, of demons lurking in the passage. But he was a man now. He would go and rescue Aldor and the others from the dark depths.
Birch entered the tree-lined passage. It narrowed with every step. Around a bend, he saw a golden glow. He heard laughter. He squeezed his body through the trees and stepped into a large cave.
“Birch!” Aldor yelled.
All the missing villagers were seated around a large fire. They were feasting on many different delicacies. There were beautiful men and women he did not recognize serving them.
“Aldor, my friend. What is this place?”
Aldor smiled and pointed to a corner of the cave where a blue light shimmered.
“That portal there, it brings us all we desire. Just think it and it will appear.”
Birch thought of a roast boar. A beautiful woman materialized, holding a large platter.
He dug his teeth into the hot meat while his gaze fell upon the beautiful maiden’s silky smooth skin.
Between mouthfuls, he announced, “We must let our families know of this place!”
All the villagers stopped their merriment.
“If you tell of this place, the spell will be broken,” all the villagers said in unison.
The maiden sat in Birch’s lap. He shrugged his shoulders.
*I’ll get my fill, then leave. I am a man now. I choose. Besides, the village will be fine without me, for a little while. Just a little while.*
| |
[WP] There is a narrow dark passage through the trees at the end of town. Anybody who has walked it, was never seen again, and presumed dead. Actually, they could come back anytime they want. They just choose not to. | I didn't go to the funeral.
Josiah said he saw Danny in the woods with a backpack slung over his shoulder. The cops found footsteps heading toward the dark passage. They shook their heads sorrowfully and said it was a tragedy, but understandable, really, with the way he'd been unstable ever since his parents died.
If Danny had been eaten by grim-hollows or claimed by the lamia, I would have understood. I would have even accepted it if he'd been poisoned by the light of the red moon, and that didn't happen these days unless you were really careless.
But this... Danny had to go through that passage from which no one ever returned. He'd died in the one way that's avoidable in this town.
He'd died because he'd chosen to leave me.
Eventually, I forgave him. I found a new best friend. I kissed a boy for the first time, and if he wasn't the boy I wanted, if he dumped me at prom for that girl who turned out to be a host for the Clew, at least he'd been alive.
Then I got the postcard. The picture showed a town where tall buildings stretched toward a blue sky. The people in the pictures were the strangest things I'd ever seen: they milled around, laughing, enjoying themselves. They wore bright colors -- didn't they know that attracted the predators? None of them wore masks to protect themselves from the air.
The back had a familiar cursive scrawl.
*Beth,*
*It's not what you think. The passage leads to a different world, a better one. There are no horrors here.*
*I miss you. I have so much I want to tell you. Please come.*
*Love,*
*Danny*
I can't stop thinking about that postcard. I think about what it would be like to live in a world without monsters, a world where people can walk under the sky without fear. I imagine what it would be like to see Danny again, to talk to my best friend again and maybe, to discover what it means that he signed his letter "love".
But then I think about the passage that swallows the light, how hungry it always looks, and I think, what if it's all a lie? And then I shiver, knowing that I'll never go find out. | Birch cut into a thick piece of bark with his large carpenter's knife. Wind beat against the small hut and thunder cracked off in the distance. The candle’s flame sputtered.
Birch’s little sister cried from the bed in the corner of the hut. Her mother cradled her. His father snored, accustomed to storms and crying children and worn down by the day's hard labor.
Birch was finally a man. He had gone through the initiation ceremony. He was his father's woodworking apprentice now. He widdled a small piece of wood, sharpening his skills. Soon he would build a new hut all by himself.
He didn’t feel like a man, whatever the feeling was supposed to be. He wanted to run through the forests and swim in the creeks, not build huts and utensils for the village. But this was his fate now.
“Go to bed, son,” his mother said.
Birch nodded, set aside the wood and blade and blew out the candle.
Laying in bed, his mind turned to the dark passage.
Aldor, his best friend, was gone. They talked about going together many times. But one day, Aldor disappeared. They said he went through the dark gates of hell--that’s what the elders called it. A pure evil that consumed those that ventured there.
Birch missed Aldor. They had many adventures. He was angry he went without him.
Lightning cracked and sent a shiver down his spine. The wind sang its haunting song.
He got up and grabbed his knife, strapping it to his belt. He crept to the door. He looked back at his sleeping family.
*I'll be back soon.*
Birch ran through the dark forest, jumping over deadfall and snaking his way through poison ivy--he knew every nook and cranny.
The dark passage lay before him. He grabbed the hilt of his knife.
He looked back towards the village, towards his family. He thought of the tales of hell, of demons lurking in the passage. But he was a man now. He would go and rescue Aldor and the others from the dark depths.
Birch entered the tree-lined passage. It narrowed with every step. Around a bend, he saw a golden glow. He heard laughter. He squeezed his body through the trees and stepped into a large cave.
“Birch!” Aldor yelled.
All the missing villagers were seated around a large fire. They were feasting on many different delicacies. There were beautiful men and women he did not recognize serving them.
“Aldor, my friend. What is this place?”
Aldor smiled and pointed to a corner of the cave where a blue light shimmered.
“That portal there, it brings us all we desire. Just think it and it will appear.”
Birch thought of a roast boar. A beautiful woman materialized, holding a large platter.
He dug his teeth into the hot meat while his gaze fell upon the beautiful maiden’s silky smooth skin.
Between mouthfuls, he announced, “We must let our families know of this place!”
All the villagers stopped their merriment.
“If you tell of this place, the spell will be broken,” all the villagers said in unison.
The maiden sat in Birch’s lap. He shrugged his shoulders.
*I’ll get my fill, then leave. I am a man now. I choose. Besides, the village will be fine without me, for a little while. Just a little while.*
| |
[WP] There is a narrow dark passage through the trees at the end of town. Anybody who has walked it, was never seen again, and presumed dead. Actually, they could come back anytime they want. They just choose not to. | I didn't go to the funeral.
Josiah said he saw Danny in the woods with a backpack slung over his shoulder. The cops found footsteps heading toward the dark passage. They shook their heads sorrowfully and said it was a tragedy, but understandable, really, with the way he'd been unstable ever since his parents died.
If Danny had been eaten by grim-hollows or claimed by the lamia, I would have understood. I would have even accepted it if he'd been poisoned by the light of the red moon, and that didn't happen these days unless you were really careless.
But this... Danny had to go through that passage from which no one ever returned. He'd died in the one way that's avoidable in this town.
He'd died because he'd chosen to leave me.
Eventually, I forgave him. I found a new best friend. I kissed a boy for the first time, and if he wasn't the boy I wanted, if he dumped me at prom for that girl who turned out to be a host for the Clew, at least he'd been alive.
Then I got the postcard. The picture showed a town where tall buildings stretched toward a blue sky. The people in the pictures were the strangest things I'd ever seen: they milled around, laughing, enjoying themselves. They wore bright colors -- didn't they know that attracted the predators? None of them wore masks to protect themselves from the air.
The back had a familiar cursive scrawl.
*Beth,*
*It's not what you think. The passage leads to a different world, a better one. There are no horrors here.*
*I miss you. I have so much I want to tell you. Please come.*
*Love,*
*Danny*
I can't stop thinking about that postcard. I think about what it would be like to live in a world without monsters, a world where people can walk under the sky without fear. I imagine what it would be like to see Danny again, to talk to my best friend again and maybe, to discover what it means that he signed his letter "love".
But then I think about the passage that swallows the light, how hungry it always looks, and I think, what if it's all a lie? And then I shiver, knowing that I'll never go find out. | *24th April*
 
A man emerged out of the dark woods on the outskirts of the town. He had worn clothes, covered with dirt and a long black beard, he was shabby. Children have gone through the dark passage in the woods before, never returning again. This was the first when someone has come from the other side. And I intend to meet this man. I suspect that he knows something about the uncanny woods, what lies beyond the dark veil at the end of a row of willow trees with dead branches hanging down.
The news said the man was admitted in the town hospital. No one knows him nor does he seem to remember anything about himself.
I sit on a chair beside his bed. He looks as if he had just fought a battle for his life and has endured, injured and now reviving. He doesn’t have the strength to speak for long nor does he have enough time left.
“Can you please tell me about the woods, what lies beyond it?”
The man didn’t reply. He had a look on his face as if he didn’t understand what I just said, like little infants. Maybe telling him my purpose would make him reveal something.
“My brother went missing two weeks ago. And I am looking for him since then. I think he might have gone into the woods. Can you please tell me who you are and whether you know something about the woods?”
I sat there waiting for a response but he didn’t utter a single word. The expressions on his face were hollow and his eyes seemed dead. He was in some state of shock. A feeling of regret sparked within me; maybe I shouldn’t have come here, it was a waste of my ever decreasing time. I decided to leave and got up; my hopes to gain information from this man were gone.
“Wait”, said the man as I turned the knob of his room’s door.
A little spark of hope was rekindled within me, maybe he does know something. I turned around to listen to the man.
“Can you tell me what’s the date?” asked the man.
“It’s 24th Of April”
“Year?”
“2018”
The man picked up a book kept on a table next to him and started writing in it. I left.
I went home and made myself comfortable on my bed. I was tired but had not given up on my brother, I will go to the forest tomorrow myself and won’t rest until I bring him back home.
 
*25th April*
 
Its late at night, when the guards are asleep and it’s easy to slip into the forest, to slip into the devil’s territory when the devil walks upon these grounds to abduct innocent children. I don’t really expect to see any devil or monster but there must be something unscrupulous in these woods which has caused such discomfort to this town and I have come here to challenge that devil and to find my brother.
As I went down the narrow passage which goes into the forest, bordered with dead and pale willow trees and carpeted with remains of dead leaves and animals, I felt as if I was going deeper and deeper into the state of drowsiness. With every step I took, it became more difficult to take the next one. But I won’t let this wicked incantation of the dead trees to work upon me this easily. I pushed forward, deeper into the passage. But there are limits to what a teen like me could take. At one point my mind and body gave in to the wicked spell and fell on a pile of dirt and leaves.
I woke up on smooth grass and the warm sun sparkled the dew on the grass. I got up and found myself in the backyard of a house. It was a very calm place with grass below my feet and a warm sun in a clear sky, it felt like a calm dream. Someone came out of the house and called out my name, it was a woman and I couldn’t see her face due to the glare of the sun. I followed her into the house and I saw my little brother on a table having a meal with my father. I stood in one place for a few seconds, stuck to the ground with shock, wondering whether it was a dream or was it all real cause my parents had died in plane crash years ago. I stood there with a cocktail of emotions being stirred within me. My mother whisked me by the shoulder and placed me on a chair next to my brother.
“Now have your breakfast, quick” said my mother.
It was overwhelming to find my lost family again. Maybe life has given me a second chance and I must decide to accept it or not.
My family had left me once but I won't do the same to them. I decide to stay here with them.
 
*24th April 2018*
 
Today I woke up early for my morning jog. As I ran down the road on the outskirts of the town with trees on either side, I noticed a very beautiful narrow passage going into the forest lined with cherry blossom trees. It stood out from the rest of the green forest. I went down the passage and with every step I felt like falling into a sweet sleep. At one point I fell on the ground, unconscious.
I woke up when it was dark. I felt strange and weird. I was still in the woods. I turned around and walked back the same way I had come in. I saw dead willow trees instead of cherry blossoms and with every step I took a fragment of my memory withered and disappeared. By the time I reached the road at the end of the passage I had forgotten all those years I had spent with my family. I was in a new place now. I went into the passage as a young teen and now I come out of it as a grown man with shabby clothes and a long black beard. This new body isn't mine but neither do I remember my old self. I just remember my family.
I am admitted in some hospital. A young man had come to meet me, inquiring about the woods and something about his lost brother, but I couldn’t help him and he left without gaining anything from me. I didn’t know the young man nor did I know anything about his brother but I was sorry for him and prayed that he finds his brother soon. But I am now in a new world, lost from my family.
| |
First time writing a prompt, surprise me! | [WP] 17 Years ago, when you were only 6 years old, your father left you and your mother, saying he was going to get milk. As you walk to work your father stumbles out of an alley, ragged, limping, and sporting a mud caked beard. In his hands, a cartoon of milk. | It was a stormy Tuesday morning, I was holding my coat tight to me. A man grabbed my arm, and I turned to look at him, he was smiling, and held up a carton of milk.
"Ady! I've gotten it. I've gotten the milk!" He said his voice scratchy like he had his vocal chords scrubbed with sand paper.
The scar under his left eye, the look he gave me, the pet name he had for me. There was no mistaking it. It was my father.
I panicked and yanked my arm away. I started running, refusing to stop. I got to my home and threw open the front door to slam and lock it behind me. I slumped down on the tile flooring crying in a sitting fetal position.
My husband came from the other room running. "Adrea, what's wrong?" He said when he saw me, crouching down and hugging me.
I laid my head on his shoulders. "It was my father, he grabbed my arm."
"That's impossible! You said you were the one to find his body after that earthquake 17 years ago."
"I know, but it was him, there was no mistaking it." | I was walking down the street from Avenue, a local coffee shop, with a tray cappuccinos lattes, mochas and a bottle of milk for my co-workers. I’m trying to get back to the newsroom as fast as I can--I don’t want to get yelled at for taking too long again. I trot past a dirty alleyway. There’s this ragged looking homeless guy sitting against a dumpster and a rank looking carton of milk. I merely glance at him through the corner of my eye as I walk, but there’s something odd about this guy. I stop to get a better look at him. He has a long, gray beard that has been caked in mud and his clothes have been ripped to mere shreds.
This stranger looks like one of the worse off bums living in the city, but for some reason I feel like I know them. I didn’t know anyone whose life took such a turn that they ended up on the streets; except maybe dad, but mom and I assumed he either died or ran off to another state with some woman.
The man looks up at me. Our eyes lock and not a second later he grabs the carton of milk, gets up and starts stumbling towards me. “Son,” he says. “Son”!
“DAD” I cry. Drinks still in hand, I run and swing my arms around him in a tight embrace. “Son,” dad says,”I got the milk. I got the milk. It’s right here see” He shows me the carton of milk. It looked like it was from a generation ago, but it was somehow still intact. “Dad,” I say,”you really did go out to buy milk, but what took you so long. Where did you go?”
Dad reaches into what was left of his pants pocket and pulls out two collapsible shot glasses. “Have a drink with me son, and I’ll explain everything.”
|
First time writing a prompt, surprise me! | [WP] 17 Years ago, when you were only 6 years old, your father left you and your mother, saying he was going to get milk. As you walk to work your father stumbles out of an alley, ragged, limping, and sporting a mud caked beard. In his hands, a cartoon of milk. | At 7:45am. customers line up. The orders are predictable. Latte. Another latte. Even the black-coffee-only guys go for it at least once a month. This lasts until 9:30am. The rest of the day it’s a normal downtown drip coffee spot for people embarrassed their office has a Keurig.
After being a barista for three years I still can’t make a good latte. I apologize to anyone that pays $3.75 to have me personally steam their milk. To avoid embarrassment, I take care of all the tasks that don’t involve making lattes. Our milk order comes in today but it’s running late.
Letha is filling-in for Ray who is suffering from a post-birthday hangover. I offer to grab us a couple burritos before the truck shows up. Secretly I want to nurse my own post-Ray’s-birthday hangover. I usually go to Junior’s Taqueria because they have bacon and use french fries in everything. Letha likes the soyrizo at Tap+Root. So I walked the extra block to be the pushover my mother taught me to be.
Mom is sweet. She avoided being an inconvenience. Dad left us and she just kept on being Mom, like there wasn’t any other way to be. How could she be anything else? He was gone and she was the same. It was the “carton of milk” he never came back with. She knew what it meant. So we never talked about it again. He isn’t here and we’re still here.
The dairy truck was pulling into the alley when I got back. Letha was surprised at my swift return. Her reaction caught me off-guard. Here I was, back as promised. Seemed like what I was meant to do. Like there wasn’t any other way it could have happened.
The driver and I shared a cigarette on the dock before we unloaded the truck. His name is something like Clyde or Clint. I think about him most of the days of the week. What is it like to drop off milk around the city? Does he ever forget to drop some off? Who is responsible for missing milk?
We unloaded the truck quickly. Clyde or Clint was behind schedule and had to hurry up. The back door didn’t quite latch and it swung open as he pulled out from the dock. Crates skidded out on the asphalt. A man that had been sleeping behind the shop for the last few months woke up during all the noise. He was rough. Under all the crust, matted hair and tattered clothing was a man that yelled incoherently as he hobbled along through downtown every morning. Easy to tune out around here.
That man moved faster than I thought possible. He grumbled and made his way to an unbroken carton of milk. He clutched it tight to his chest and turned toward me. I recognized his eyes. I was just there and he was there. We were always there and that’s how things are. How could it be any other way?
| Over the years, his absence had slowly turned his memory from loving protector and leader of our family to disappointing abandoner. I don't know how we managed without him. A testament to my mother, really. Yes, there were many days without adequate food. Mom tried to shield us from the realities of our situation, but us kids knew not to ask for things. Mom worked every hour God gave her, but it was never enough. We didn't tell when we were bullied for the contents of our lunch, when we had one. As adults, we are the fastest eaters in the room, and something I still struggle with to this day. And I hate milk. If anyone asks, I say I'm lactose intolerant, but Jesus Christ, its my own personal way of telling dad to fuck off. "Large coffee, two sugars, no milk". Fuck off, dad.
Every Friday, I stop at a coffee shop on my way in to work. My reward for a solid week of work, and helps kick off the last day of the work week. Today, though, as I advance through the drive-thru, something catches the corner of my eye. I see this slip of a human. Ragged, limping and sporting a mud caked beard. But the eyes. Intense. Penetrating. Desperate. As our eyes locked, he stumbled toward the car. I wound down the passenger window. The man reached the vehicle, and raised an empty, tattered carton of milk.
"Son!" The word, so desperate, yet spoken so softly. One word, that at once, lifts me up with hope, and breaks me down with reality. He looked like a man bereft of love, who paid dearly for his sins.
"Son! I have the milk!" he said desperately, pleading with his eyes.
"Nope. Not today, Dad. We don't need the milk today."
"Please, take the milk. It only costs a dollar. Just a dollar. 50 cents even. Its on sale today." He continued, mumbling.
"No, Dad. No money. I can give you an egg sandwich for it instead. Will you take a sandwich instead of a dollar?"
"Okay, yeah, sure. I'll take the sandwich this time."
I hand Dad a bun with cheese and a fried egg on it. I toss the tattered carton into the back of the car. It lands with the other cartons, beer cans and pop bottles. Dad "sells" me one every day. |
First time writing a prompt, surprise me! | [WP] 17 Years ago, when you were only 6 years old, your father left you and your mother, saying he was going to get milk. As you walk to work your father stumbles out of an alley, ragged, limping, and sporting a mud caked beard. In his hands, a cartoon of milk. | It’s been 17 years to the day, that he left us. I think about it every day when I come here. The shop where he supposedly would have had to go to. They claim they never even saw him on that day. Not a day goes by where I don’t think about what might’ve happened to him. Did he just leave us? He never showed any signs of being unhappy. In fact, I think he loved being a father. Even when he received bad news, he’d always have a smile on his face as soon as he saw us. It seemed like nothing could get to him, as long as he had his family. So what, then? Was he kidnapped? Murdered? Who would want to hurt my father, he was always kind, and never had any enemies that I knew of. It’d almost be easier to believe he died of a heart attack or stroke on his way here, but they never found a body, and he never turned up at any of the hospitals nearby.
A part of me hopes to be kidnapped by the same people. I think that’s why I always come back here. With my father gone, my mother had no problems with me taking up martial arts to defend myself. She didn’t want anything happening to us since he wasn’t around to protect us any more. Secretly I just wanted to train, so that if I ever had the chance, I could get revenge. Maybe even rescue him. The memories of him leaving all flood back when I reach for the milk from the shop’s fridge. The cold that blew in from outside as he opened the door that morning. His warm, fatherly smile. The lingering hug he gave me before he left. It almost seemed like he knew, but how could he have.
Walking back from the shop, something feels different about today. Normally the memories go away quickly, but today they linger. I can’t help but think about it. Perhaps it’s due to it being the anniversary, but I can’t shake the feeling that it’s not.
“SURPRISE!”
A hand ejects from the alleyway, holding the most beautifully rendered carton of milk I’ve ever seen. Almost lifelike, but something more. Behind it, a dishevelled man, with a rugged, mud-caked beard, and pasty tattered clothing. But that smile… I remember the smile. How could I forget it. I thought about it every day. It was him.
“D-Dad?...” Was all I could muster, as I choked back the tears.
“It’s me, son.” He replied.
“Where have you been?!”
“Art school! You left a note asking for a cartoon of milk, so, here you are!”
“You left us for a joke?! You estranged us for 17 years for a joke?!?”
“I guess we shouldn’t be too surprised, after the time he left us for an entire year to go on a safari trip after mum said ‘You’re such a thorn in the backside, you could prick a rhino and it would feel it’, and he came back a year later with hoof prints all over him”. Kacie piped up. She’d snuck up on us as we were talking, and she had a point.
“I’m just trying to bring a little humour into your lives, what do you want me to do?”
I’d never seen him so broken, but I was broken too. Those 17 years he was gone hurt. I worried about him every day, I still cared. I never for one second believed he’d actually left us, and yet here he is. He said it himself. He left for 17 years for a joke, and never once thought about how that would affect us. All I could think to say was…
“I don’t know, go be a renaissance artist in Europe or something.”
“Great idea!” He said, with a smile. As bright as the moment he’d shoved the drawing in my face.
Me and Kacie walked away. It hurt too much to face. It would be easier to forget about it, and move on. I’d lived without him for 17 years, at this point I was used to it.
---
I remember that conversation like it was yesterday. I’d woken up early to make breakfast for him, and saw the note. He just wanted me to get a carton of milk, but that’s not what it said. He was probably tired as he scrawled the note. Maybe he was too young to spell it, I can’t even remember. I shouldn’t have tempted fate. As he sat at the dinner table I turned to him with a grin on my face.
“You just want me to go to the shop and get a ‘cartoon’ of milk?”.
He looked up from his eggs and grinned back at me.
“No, I want you to make one, and it has to be the most beautiful milk I’ve ever seen.”
Damnit. Why did I tempt fate. Why did I risk joking around with him that morning, all I wanted was to make him smile. I guess I did, one last time.
“Alright son, I’ll do that.”
I knew what was coming. Our last hug felt like it lasted years. In my heart I knew the pain I was about to inflict, but I couldn’t let him know. I put on my bravest smile and walked out the door like it was another day. It took years, plunging myself into debt, homelessness and more. I couldn’t bring the financial burden it would bare on my family. But I finally did it. I finally got to see them again, and to show him the most beautiful cartoon of milk I know he would ever see. I naively thought that after that, after they realised it was a joke that they might accept me. That we could be a family again, but no.
I wish I could tell them. I wish I could tell them the truth. About that stupid deal I made with that demon all those years ago, and for such a petty prize. All I wanted was a family, but I never knew the price it would bare. I never thought that having to take every suggestion literally would have this much of a burden, on me or them. Now I’m abandoning them again. Walking away one again to buy an easel and start my new life in Rome. At least the skills I’ve built up will be transferable. I hope that next time, they’ll accept me…
| Over the years, his absence had slowly turned his memory from loving protector and leader of our family to disappointing abandoner. I don't know how we managed without him. A testament to my mother, really. Yes, there were many days without adequate food. Mom tried to shield us from the realities of our situation, but us kids knew not to ask for things. Mom worked every hour God gave her, but it was never enough. We didn't tell when we were bullied for the contents of our lunch, when we had one. As adults, we are the fastest eaters in the room, and something I still struggle with to this day. And I hate milk. If anyone asks, I say I'm lactose intolerant, but Jesus Christ, its my own personal way of telling dad to fuck off. "Large coffee, two sugars, no milk". Fuck off, dad.
Every Friday, I stop at a coffee shop on my way in to work. My reward for a solid week of work, and helps kick off the last day of the work week. Today, though, as I advance through the drive-thru, something catches the corner of my eye. I see this slip of a human. Ragged, limping and sporting a mud caked beard. But the eyes. Intense. Penetrating. Desperate. As our eyes locked, he stumbled toward the car. I wound down the passenger window. The man reached the vehicle, and raised an empty, tattered carton of milk.
"Son!" The word, so desperate, yet spoken so softly. One word, that at once, lifts me up with hope, and breaks me down with reality. He looked like a man bereft of love, who paid dearly for his sins.
"Son! I have the milk!" he said desperately, pleading with his eyes.
"Nope. Not today, Dad. We don't need the milk today."
"Please, take the milk. It only costs a dollar. Just a dollar. 50 cents even. Its on sale today." He continued, mumbling.
"No, Dad. No money. I can give you an egg sandwich for it instead. Will you take a sandwich instead of a dollar?"
"Okay, yeah, sure. I'll take the sandwich this time."
I hand Dad a bun with cheese and a fried egg on it. I toss the tattered carton into the back of the car. It lands with the other cartons, beer cans and pop bottles. Dad "sells" me one every day. |
First time writing a prompt, surprise me! | [WP] 17 Years ago, when you were only 6 years old, your father left you and your mother, saying he was going to get milk. As you walk to work your father stumbles out of an alley, ragged, limping, and sporting a mud caked beard. In his hands, a cartoon of milk. | Another day in paradise.
I walked down the barren street towards the same bus stop I wait at every morning. I’d been working the same dead end job since I was 16, still living with my mom, mostly avoiding questions about what I was going to “do” with my life. No dad to speak of; walked out on me and my mom when I was six. Every day was the same, save for which shift I had.
“Hey!”
I saw a disheveled looking man crossing the street. He was stumbling around, holding some booze bottle in his left hand. I looked away and pretended to not notice. I kept my head low, and glanced at him out of the corner of my eye. He was coming right for me. He had a big scraggly beard, was covered in mud, and stunk like hell. As he got close, he became even more excited, repeatedly shouting: “Hey! Come here! I can’t believe it’s you!”. I dug my nose in my shoulder to avoid his breath as he got close to me.
“Listen old man, I have no idea who the fu-”
I paused and steadied my gaze at him. There was something...familiar about this man. His face, his voice, but it didn’t click until he said my name.
“Alex...I can’t believe I found you!”
I punched him in the face as hard as I could. He must’ve not been expecting it, because he stumbled back a few feet and dropped the booze he was carrying. I didn’t even try to keep calm. I couldn’t think, couldn’t form a sentence. He staggered and fell to one foot, stabilizing himself with the arm that had been holding his booze. I felt like hitting him again. There was no doubt about it. This man was my father.
“Fuck you”
“Alex, you’ll never believe what happened to me”
“You’re right, I fucking won’t”
I threw up my hands and brought them back down again in anger. I stomped back and forth in the same spot, trying to think what to do next. I couldn’t think where to start. Where have you been? Why’d you walk out on you own son at six years old? I had thought of this moment every day of my life since he left, and I didn’t know what to do. The more I thought about it, the more I just wanted him to be out of my life again.
“Alex, I understand you’re mad, but-”
“Just get out of here! Just get the fuck out of here!”
My dad’s speech was raspy, ragged, and mine was hateful, full of anger. I never felt that angry before, I wanted to teach him a lesson, for everything he’d done to me. It took every ounce of my willpower to turn me around, and get my legs moving. I heard him get up.
“Alex, you have to understand-”
I whipped myself around
“Oh, I understand! Last I saw you, you said you were gonna grab some milk! THAT WAS 17 YEARS AGO!”
“But, I brought the milk!”
He pointed back to the thing he had been carrying earlier. Indeed there was a carton of milk on the ground, now pouring all over the street. I threw my hands up. “Great.” I whispered.
“Alex, you have to listen!”
I tried my best to ignore him.
“I came to warn you! Bad people are after me and now they are coming for you! I thought they were just coming for me which is why I couldn’t come back to you! They had me locked up, Alex!”
I trudged onward, looking away every time he tried to get into my view.
“You have to believe me son! I came to warn you! You have to believe your father!”
I turned to him, and balled up my fist in anger, but instead I just pointed at him, my finger nearly touching the top button of his ragged shirt.
“My father’s dead”
Tears welled up in his eyes.
“I’m not lying to you son. I love you. I would do any-”
I turned my back to him.
“Then leave me alone.”
I walked on. I couldn’t hear his footsteps behind me. If he was with me, he sure wasn’t speaking. I looked back after a few minutes to see that he was nowhere to be found.
I continued on my way to the bus stop, and sat waiting silently. The bus arrived, and I got on. I watched the buildings passed as the bus made it’s stops. I was trying to process what had happened. It couldn’t have been real. I must’ve been imagining it. Bad drugs, too much coffee, not enough sleep, it had to be something like that. I began to calm down. I had worked myself up over nothing. I smiled to myself and tried to catch a few winks before I had to get off.
As soon as I was starting to really relax, I began to hear murmuring. “What’s that?” “What’s going on?” “Wonder what they’re doing”. It was all punctuated by the pneumatic brakes of the bus. I opened my eyes and looked out the window to see a large group of police officers with a few suits interspersed.
One of the suits boarded the bus and appeared to flash his badge at the bus driver. They appeared to be speaking, but then the bus driver pointed at me. “That one?” “Yeah, that looks like him”. The suit began making his way towards me. I stood up.
“Sir please refrain from doing anything stupid. I just want to ask you a few questions.”
I looked at the middle door of the bus. A suit was now blocking that exit. The rear exit was the same story. I put my hands in front of me, palms out.
“Look man, you got the wrong guy.”
The suit pulled out his smartphone. He fiddled with it for a minute before he showed me the screen. It was a photo of my father, but it
appeared to be a mugshot of him.
“You know this man?”
I hesitated for a second.
“N-no”
The suit pulled the collar of his shirt up to his mouth. “Board the bus”. I heard a small crackly “Roger” on the other end of what sounded like a radio. The doors opened as another suit and two police officers boarded. My heart was pounding
“Hey man, I said I don’t know him.”
The suit pulled the phone back and swiped. He showed me the screen again. This time, it was a picture of when I punched my father, earlier that morning.
“Look man, that homeless guy was getting up in my space. I was scared, and he wouldn’t leave me alone. I’m sorry. Didn’t know the first picture was him.”
My voice was cracking and tense. I could feel tears welling up in my eyes. The suit stared at me with cold expressionless eyes.
“I’m sorry man, I didn’t mean to, I was scared”
The suit once more pulled the phone back, swiped, and showed me the screen. It was a picture of six-year-old me, my mother and father all posing for a family photo.
“I-....where did you get that? What’s going on? What-”
I felt someone grab me from behind. Before I knew it, I had handcuffs on and I was being dragged off the bus.
“Just a few answers Mr. Palowski. That’s all we want. There are some people who would be very interested to meet you.”
**If you want me to continue, I'll keep writing the story. However, I'm tired and done for now. Thanks for reading!**
**Part Two posted as a reply!** | Over the years, his absence had slowly turned his memory from loving protector and leader of our family to disappointing abandoner. I don't know how we managed without him. A testament to my mother, really. Yes, there were many days without adequate food. Mom tried to shield us from the realities of our situation, but us kids knew not to ask for things. Mom worked every hour God gave her, but it was never enough. We didn't tell when we were bullied for the contents of our lunch, when we had one. As adults, we are the fastest eaters in the room, and something I still struggle with to this day. And I hate milk. If anyone asks, I say I'm lactose intolerant, but Jesus Christ, its my own personal way of telling dad to fuck off. "Large coffee, two sugars, no milk". Fuck off, dad.
Every Friday, I stop at a coffee shop on my way in to work. My reward for a solid week of work, and helps kick off the last day of the work week. Today, though, as I advance through the drive-thru, something catches the corner of my eye. I see this slip of a human. Ragged, limping and sporting a mud caked beard. But the eyes. Intense. Penetrating. Desperate. As our eyes locked, he stumbled toward the car. I wound down the passenger window. The man reached the vehicle, and raised an empty, tattered carton of milk.
"Son!" The word, so desperate, yet spoken so softly. One word, that at once, lifts me up with hope, and breaks me down with reality. He looked like a man bereft of love, who paid dearly for his sins.
"Son! I have the milk!" he said desperately, pleading with his eyes.
"Nope. Not today, Dad. We don't need the milk today."
"Please, take the milk. It only costs a dollar. Just a dollar. 50 cents even. Its on sale today." He continued, mumbling.
"No, Dad. No money. I can give you an egg sandwich for it instead. Will you take a sandwich instead of a dollar?"
"Okay, yeah, sure. I'll take the sandwich this time."
I hand Dad a bun with cheese and a fried egg on it. I toss the tattered carton into the back of the car. It lands with the other cartons, beer cans and pop bottles. Dad "sells" me one every day. |
First time writing a prompt, surprise me! | [WP] 17 Years ago, when you were only 6 years old, your father left you and your mother, saying he was going to get milk. As you walk to work your father stumbles out of an alley, ragged, limping, and sporting a mud caked beard. In his hands, a cartoon of milk. | Another day in paradise.
I walked down the barren street towards the same bus stop I wait at every morning. I’d been working the same dead end job since I was 16, still living with my mom, mostly avoiding questions about what I was going to “do” with my life. No dad to speak of; walked out on me and my mom when I was six. Every day was the same, save for which shift I had.
“Hey!”
I saw a disheveled looking man crossing the street. He was stumbling around, holding some booze bottle in his left hand. I looked away and pretended to not notice. I kept my head low, and glanced at him out of the corner of my eye. He was coming right for me. He had a big scraggly beard, was covered in mud, and stunk like hell. As he got close, he became even more excited, repeatedly shouting: “Hey! Come here! I can’t believe it’s you!”. I dug my nose in my shoulder to avoid his breath as he got close to me.
“Listen old man, I have no idea who the fu-”
I paused and steadied my gaze at him. There was something...familiar about this man. His face, his voice, but it didn’t click until he said my name.
“Alex...I can’t believe I found you!”
I punched him in the face as hard as I could. He must’ve not been expecting it, because he stumbled back a few feet and dropped the booze he was carrying. I didn’t even try to keep calm. I couldn’t think, couldn’t form a sentence. He staggered and fell to one foot, stabilizing himself with the arm that had been holding his booze. I felt like hitting him again. There was no doubt about it. This man was my father.
“Fuck you”
“Alex, you’ll never believe what happened to me”
“You’re right, I fucking won’t”
I threw up my hands and brought them back down again in anger. I stomped back and forth in the same spot, trying to think what to do next. I couldn’t think where to start. Where have you been? Why’d you walk out on you own son at six years old? I had thought of this moment every day of my life since he left, and I didn’t know what to do. The more I thought about it, the more I just wanted him to be out of my life again.
“Alex, I understand you’re mad, but-”
“Just get out of here! Just get the fuck out of here!”
My dad’s speech was raspy, ragged, and mine was hateful, full of anger. I never felt that angry before, I wanted to teach him a lesson, for everything he’d done to me. It took every ounce of my willpower to turn me around, and get my legs moving. I heard him get up.
“Alex, you have to understand-”
I whipped myself around
“Oh, I understand! Last I saw you, you said you were gonna grab some milk! THAT WAS 17 YEARS AGO!”
“But, I brought the milk!”
He pointed back to the thing he had been carrying earlier. Indeed there was a carton of milk on the ground, now pouring all over the street. I threw my hands up. “Great.” I whispered.
“Alex, you have to listen!”
I tried my best to ignore him.
“I came to warn you! Bad people are after me and now they are coming for you! I thought they were just coming for me which is why I couldn’t come back to you! They had me locked up, Alex!”
I trudged onward, looking away every time he tried to get into my view.
“You have to believe me son! I came to warn you! You have to believe your father!”
I turned to him, and balled up my fist in anger, but instead I just pointed at him, my finger nearly touching the top button of his ragged shirt.
“My father’s dead”
Tears welled up in his eyes.
“I’m not lying to you son. I love you. I would do any-”
I turned my back to him.
“Then leave me alone.”
I walked on. I couldn’t hear his footsteps behind me. If he was with me, he sure wasn’t speaking. I looked back after a few minutes to see that he was nowhere to be found.
I continued on my way to the bus stop, and sat waiting silently. The bus arrived, and I got on. I watched the buildings passed as the bus made it’s stops. I was trying to process what had happened. It couldn’t have been real. I must’ve been imagining it. Bad drugs, too much coffee, not enough sleep, it had to be something like that. I began to calm down. I had worked myself up over nothing. I smiled to myself and tried to catch a few winks before I had to get off.
As soon as I was starting to really relax, I began to hear murmuring. “What’s that?” “What’s going on?” “Wonder what they’re doing”. It was all punctuated by the pneumatic brakes of the bus. I opened my eyes and looked out the window to see a large group of police officers with a few suits interspersed.
One of the suits boarded the bus and appeared to flash his badge at the bus driver. They appeared to be speaking, but then the bus driver pointed at me. “That one?” “Yeah, that looks like him”. The suit began making his way towards me. I stood up.
“Sir please refrain from doing anything stupid. I just want to ask you a few questions.”
I looked at the middle door of the bus. A suit was now blocking that exit. The rear exit was the same story. I put my hands in front of me, palms out.
“Look man, you got the wrong guy.”
The suit pulled out his smartphone. He fiddled with it for a minute before he showed me the screen. It was a photo of my father, but it
appeared to be a mugshot of him.
“You know this man?”
I hesitated for a second.
“N-no”
The suit pulled the collar of his shirt up to his mouth. “Board the bus”. I heard a small crackly “Roger” on the other end of what sounded like a radio. The doors opened as another suit and two police officers boarded. My heart was pounding
“Hey man, I said I don’t know him.”
The suit pulled the phone back and swiped. He showed me the screen again. This time, it was a picture of when I punched my father, earlier that morning.
“Look man, that homeless guy was getting up in my space. I was scared, and he wouldn’t leave me alone. I’m sorry. Didn’t know the first picture was him.”
My voice was cracking and tense. I could feel tears welling up in my eyes. The suit stared at me with cold expressionless eyes.
“I’m sorry man, I didn’t mean to, I was scared”
The suit once more pulled the phone back, swiped, and showed me the screen. It was a picture of six-year-old me, my mother and father all posing for a family photo.
“I-....where did you get that? What’s going on? What-”
I felt someone grab me from behind. Before I knew it, I had handcuffs on and I was being dragged off the bus.
“Just a few answers Mr. Palowski. That’s all we want. There are some people who would be very interested to meet you.”
**If you want me to continue, I'll keep writing the story. However, I'm tired and done for now. Thanks for reading!**
**Part Two posted as a reply!** | "Dad!?"... I exlaim, stopping myself short from full on embracing this potential stranger. "I am so glad to finally come across you again..." he says with a weary smile. We head off, grab him a warm meal, a shower. I call Mom. "Damn, just... damn," and we talk.
Later he shows me his sketches of the adventures he has been on, the last one he did of this cutesy milk carton dancing in the streets of New Iberia.
I never was fully told the "real" story. Nobody perhaps knew the "real," story. I do now. After all these years I learned and now he knows about me too.
We get along pretty well and are off in a few days. Our drawings styles are different though my Mom has always encouraged me to write home more. Never thought to DRAW home more. Mom finally showed me all the drawings he sent her over the years and the ones she kept from me.
I forgive her. You know, a guy walks out and all... |
First time writing a prompt, surprise me! | [WP] 17 Years ago, when you were only 6 years old, your father left you and your mother, saying he was going to get milk. As you walk to work your father stumbles out of an alley, ragged, limping, and sporting a mud caked beard. In his hands, a cartoon of milk. | I had always wondered what had happened to him. I had imagined he was dead or in prison or in my darkest moments with a new family. Seeing him clutching a cardboard cutout of a cartoon character was not one of those things. I can't help but feel a tinge of pity for the pathetic person in front of me. How ill must he be to turn out like this? A look of recognition appears on his face.
"Son?" He asks in a wavering voice. Something inside me breaks. All those years. All those feelings. Wondering if it was my fault. I can't stop myself. Looking down on him through narrowed eyes I say the most hurtful thing I can think of.
"Your waifu is trash." I turn and keep walking without looking back. | A man with a haggard appearance and a limp in one leg staggers out of the alleyway. The darkness that hid him so well is now no longer his friend. Sunlight hits him, illuminating the fact that the men looks like he hadn’t slept in days, showered in weeks, eaten in a month.
Still, his trembling hands holds a small carton of milk. It’s dirty and looks like it’s quickly aging. The mans face, a face I’ve seen a hundred times before enters my view. I stop, mid walk and see my father for the first time in over 17 years.
He looks like he has fallen in a game of Jumanji and couldn’t get back.
“Daddy, did someone finally roll a five or eight?” I asked him gently as he stepped into my view.
His lips quirk up into a smile, his beard quivering with the motion.
“Something like that, sweetheart,” came his reply. |
First time writing a prompt, surprise me! | [WP] 17 Years ago, when you were only 6 years old, your father left you and your mother, saying he was going to get milk. As you walk to work your father stumbles out of an alley, ragged, limping, and sporting a mud caked beard. In his hands, a cartoon of milk. | “I’m sorry.”
I couldn’t look him in the eyes, not yet. I bet they were still a horrible, shitty brown, and I bet his eyes were still bloodshot and drained, and his face was still pale and rough. I bet he made this alley his home.
“All these years,” I mumbled quietly. I fiddled with my thumbs. “I thought you were dead.”
“I’m sorry, son,” his hoarse voice was followed by a heavy cough and a sniffle. It was dead silent in the alley. Cars flew by out on the street, probably staring at the twenty-three year old man talking to who seemed like a homeless bum. Wondering why anyone would take time out of their day to talk to a scumbag living in garbage. “I wanted to come back.” I stayed silent.
“Mom has a new husband,” I told him. Maybe I shouldn’t have. I looked up at him, and, thankfully, he was staring down at the ground, and I wouldn’t have to meet his eyes yet. His beard grew so much. He was balding, however. His nose was bent, and his lip cut. He still had a birthmark on his left cheek. I remember poking it as a kid, calling it a chocolate chip. “She’s in love.”
“Glad,” he coughed out. I didn’t want to stand here any longer, but I felt like I needed to. This wasn’t what I wanted to see this morning. This isn’t how I expected to meet him again. I hated standing here. I hated being near him, when all this time, it was just me and Mom. And the new guy, to whom I’d just recently gotten accustomed.
“Why did you leave?”
He kept staring at the floor. I stared down too. He wasn’t wearing shoes, and his feet were dirty and his toenails too long. I wanted to vomit.
“Why did you leave?” I repeated. Maybe the bastard was deaf.
“I couldn’t handle it,” he told me.
“You could.”
“I couldn’t,” he enforced. I finally met his eyes. They were horrible, revolting, like they’d seen a war. Like they’d been staring at the dark side of a building for 23 years and hadn’t seen a ray of sunshine or a beam from a flashlight. They seemed surprised and strained and hurt and disappointed, all at the same time. They were looking at me.
“I graduated,” I told him. He looked back down. I continued, hoping to make him feel like shit, even though any amount of shame he felt now would be nothing compared to the decade and a half of me crying, screaming, slamming my head into a wall trying to understand why I wasn’t good enough for another human being to love me. “Honor roll.”
He didn’t say anything. I didn’t want him to say anything.
I followed his line of sight and it led to the cold, hard, concrete ground. I finally acknowledge the carton of milk in his hand. The reason he left. Or, so I thought that was the reason. The excuse as to why he “couldn’t handle” being a father, the excuse as to why he left a six year old child father-less and lost.
He saw my eyes, and held up the half gallon of milk. I stared at him as he coughed into his other hand.
“I got skim,” he raised it higher, chest-level, as if offering for me to hold it. “That’s still your favorite, right?”
It wasn’t.
———
This is my first time posting here. Any and all feedback would be greatly appreciated. | A man with a haggard appearance and a limp in one leg staggers out of the alleyway. The darkness that hid him so well is now no longer his friend. Sunlight hits him, illuminating the fact that the men looks like he hadn’t slept in days, showered in weeks, eaten in a month.
Still, his trembling hands holds a small carton of milk. It’s dirty and looks like it’s quickly aging. The mans face, a face I’ve seen a hundred times before enters my view. I stop, mid walk and see my father for the first time in over 17 years.
He looks like he has fallen in a game of Jumanji and couldn’t get back.
“Daddy, did someone finally roll a five or eight?” I asked him gently as he stepped into my view.
His lips quirk up into a smile, his beard quivering with the motion.
“Something like that, sweetheart,” came his reply. |
First time writing a prompt, surprise me! | [WP] 17 Years ago, when you were only 6 years old, your father left you and your mother, saying he was going to get milk. As you walk to work your father stumbles out of an alley, ragged, limping, and sporting a mud caked beard. In his hands, a cartoon of milk. | "Dad?" My eyes are telling me he's there, right in front of me. They are screaming the information at my brain, which has ceased to function properly. I've thought about this moment for so long, played out every scenario in my head like a prayer before bed, but when the moment is finally here: I freeze. I never once pictured it like this.
He looks like hell to be honest. Dirty, unshaven, his clothes in rags. He looks at me, stupidly, eyes slightly glazed like he can't understand what's going on. Finally a glimmer of recognition seems to ripple across his face.
"Kendra?" Horror and shock fill little sentence to the brim. He recoils from me like I'm some sort of diseased animal.
The carton of milk falls from his trembling hands and busts open on the concrete. It splashes up onto my shoes and across my leggs but I barely notice it. I'm too captivated by the carton. There's a face on it, some lost kid, but that's not unusual. It's who the face belongs to that has my stomach crawling up my throat.
I remember that face. I saw it every morning for 2 years as I shoved spoonfuls of sugared cereal into my mouth. I remember the news stories covering it. They found the kid, worse for wear but otherwise unharmed, wandering in a field just after labor day SIXTEEN YEARS AGO. They diddnt need the cartons after that.
So why. Why was the milk soaking through my thin rayon leggings COLD. The carton itself sparkles with condensation and shows no signs of age.
I look at up at my father and my brain begins to process what it had seen all along. I had no trouble recognizing him beneath the mud and the rediculous beard, because beyond that he hasn't changed much. No. He hasn't changed at all. My dad stands in front of me, without showing the slightest sign of the last two decades.
I think I'm going to be sick.
| A man with a haggard appearance and a limp in one leg staggers out of the alleyway. The darkness that hid him so well is now no longer his friend. Sunlight hits him, illuminating the fact that the men looks like he hadn’t slept in days, showered in weeks, eaten in a month.
Still, his trembling hands holds a small carton of milk. It’s dirty and looks like it’s quickly aging. The mans face, a face I’ve seen a hundred times before enters my view. I stop, mid walk and see my father for the first time in over 17 years.
He looks like he has fallen in a game of Jumanji and couldn’t get back.
“Daddy, did someone finally roll a five or eight?” I asked him gently as he stepped into my view.
His lips quirk up into a smile, his beard quivering with the motion.
“Something like that, sweetheart,” came his reply. |
First time writing a prompt, surprise me! | [WP] 17 Years ago, when you were only 6 years old, your father left you and your mother, saying he was going to get milk. As you walk to work your father stumbles out of an alley, ragged, limping, and sporting a mud caked beard. In his hands, a cartoon of milk. | I had always wondered what had happened to him. I had imagined he was dead or in prison or in my darkest moments with a new family. Seeing him clutching a cardboard cutout of a cartoon character was not one of those things. I can't help but feel a tinge of pity for the pathetic person in front of me. How ill must he be to turn out like this? A look of recognition appears on his face.
"Son?" He asks in a wavering voice. Something inside me breaks. All those years. All those feelings. Wondering if it was my fault. I can't stop myself. Looking down on him through narrowed eyes I say the most hurtful thing I can think of.
"Your waifu is trash." I turn and keep walking without looking back. | We both stop, recognition thrusting the air out of our lungs. He looks nothing like the picture next to my bed but it’s him. He’s breathing rapidly and starts to weep. He crumbles in on himself and falls forward on his palm and knees. His hand holding the milk ever so gently lands on the grimy asphalt. He’s sobbing uncontrollably.
“It’s you. I’m here. I’m home. You’re alive” he says somewhat to himself staring at the hand holding the milk. At once, he collapses to his elbows and sinks back on his heels. The sobs make his back convulse and the sound fills and reverberates through the alley. I’m frozen. |
First time writing a prompt, surprise me! | [WP] 17 Years ago, when you were only 6 years old, your father left you and your mother, saying he was going to get milk. As you walk to work your father stumbles out of an alley, ragged, limping, and sporting a mud caked beard. In his hands, a cartoon of milk. | “I’m sorry.”
I couldn’t look him in the eyes, not yet. I bet they were still a horrible, shitty brown, and I bet his eyes were still bloodshot and drained, and his face was still pale and rough. I bet he made this alley his home.
“All these years,” I mumbled quietly. I fiddled with my thumbs. “I thought you were dead.”
“I’m sorry, son,” his hoarse voice was followed by a heavy cough and a sniffle. It was dead silent in the alley. Cars flew by out on the street, probably staring at the twenty-three year old man talking to who seemed like a homeless bum. Wondering why anyone would take time out of their day to talk to a scumbag living in garbage. “I wanted to come back.” I stayed silent.
“Mom has a new husband,” I told him. Maybe I shouldn’t have. I looked up at him, and, thankfully, he was staring down at the ground, and I wouldn’t have to meet his eyes yet. His beard grew so much. He was balding, however. His nose was bent, and his lip cut. He still had a birthmark on his left cheek. I remember poking it as a kid, calling it a chocolate chip. “She’s in love.”
“Glad,” he coughed out. I didn’t want to stand here any longer, but I felt like I needed to. This wasn’t what I wanted to see this morning. This isn’t how I expected to meet him again. I hated standing here. I hated being near him, when all this time, it was just me and Mom. And the new guy, to whom I’d just recently gotten accustomed.
“Why did you leave?”
He kept staring at the floor. I stared down too. He wasn’t wearing shoes, and his feet were dirty and his toenails too long. I wanted to vomit.
“Why did you leave?” I repeated. Maybe the bastard was deaf.
“I couldn’t handle it,” he told me.
“You could.”
“I couldn’t,” he enforced. I finally met his eyes. They were horrible, revolting, like they’d seen a war. Like they’d been staring at the dark side of a building for 23 years and hadn’t seen a ray of sunshine or a beam from a flashlight. They seemed surprised and strained and hurt and disappointed, all at the same time. They were looking at me.
“I graduated,” I told him. He looked back down. I continued, hoping to make him feel like shit, even though any amount of shame he felt now would be nothing compared to the decade and a half of me crying, screaming, slamming my head into a wall trying to understand why I wasn’t good enough for another human being to love me. “Honor roll.”
He didn’t say anything. I didn’t want him to say anything.
I followed his line of sight and it led to the cold, hard, concrete ground. I finally acknowledge the carton of milk in his hand. The reason he left. Or, so I thought that was the reason. The excuse as to why he “couldn’t handle” being a father, the excuse as to why he left a six year old child father-less and lost.
He saw my eyes, and held up the half gallon of milk. I stared at him as he coughed into his other hand.
“I got skim,” he raised it higher, chest-level, as if offering for me to hold it. “That’s still your favorite, right?”
It wasn’t.
———
This is my first time posting here. Any and all feedback would be greatly appreciated. | We both stop, recognition thrusting the air out of our lungs. He looks nothing like the picture next to my bed but it’s him. He’s breathing rapidly and starts to weep. He crumbles in on himself and falls forward on his palm and knees. His hand holding the milk ever so gently lands on the grimy asphalt. He’s sobbing uncontrollably.
“It’s you. I’m here. I’m home. You’re alive” he says somewhat to himself staring at the hand holding the milk. At once, he collapses to his elbows and sinks back on his heels. The sobs make his back convulse and the sound fills and reverberates through the alley. I’m frozen. |
First time writing a prompt, surprise me! | [WP] 17 Years ago, when you were only 6 years old, your father left you and your mother, saying he was going to get milk. As you walk to work your father stumbles out of an alley, ragged, limping, and sporting a mud caked beard. In his hands, a cartoon of milk. | "Dad?" My eyes are telling me he's there, right in front of me. They are screaming the information at my brain, which has ceased to function properly. I've thought about this moment for so long, played out every scenario in my head like a prayer before bed, but when the moment is finally here: I freeze. I never once pictured it like this.
He looks like hell to be honest. Dirty, unshaven, his clothes in rags. He looks at me, stupidly, eyes slightly glazed like he can't understand what's going on. Finally a glimmer of recognition seems to ripple across his face.
"Kendra?" Horror and shock fill little sentence to the brim. He recoils from me like I'm some sort of diseased animal.
The carton of milk falls from his trembling hands and busts open on the concrete. It splashes up onto my shoes and across my leggs but I barely notice it. I'm too captivated by the carton. There's a face on it, some lost kid, but that's not unusual. It's who the face belongs to that has my stomach crawling up my throat.
I remember that face. I saw it every morning for 2 years as I shoved spoonfuls of sugared cereal into my mouth. I remember the news stories covering it. They found the kid, worse for wear but otherwise unharmed, wandering in a field just after labor day SIXTEEN YEARS AGO. They diddnt need the cartons after that.
So why. Why was the milk soaking through my thin rayon leggings COLD. The carton itself sparkles with condensation and shows no signs of age.
I look at up at my father and my brain begins to process what it had seen all along. I had no trouble recognizing him beneath the mud and the rediculous beard, because beyond that he hasn't changed much. No. He hasn't changed at all. My dad stands in front of me, without showing the slightest sign of the last two decades.
I think I'm going to be sick.
| We both stop, recognition thrusting the air out of our lungs. He looks nothing like the picture next to my bed but it’s him. He’s breathing rapidly and starts to weep. He crumbles in on himself and falls forward on his palm and knees. His hand holding the milk ever so gently lands on the grimy asphalt. He’s sobbing uncontrollably.
“It’s you. I’m here. I’m home. You’re alive” he says somewhat to himself staring at the hand holding the milk. At once, he collapses to his elbows and sinks back on his heels. The sobs make his back convulse and the sound fills and reverberates through the alley. I’m frozen. |
First time writing a prompt, surprise me! | [WP] 17 Years ago, when you were only 6 years old, your father left you and your mother, saying he was going to get milk. As you walk to work your father stumbles out of an alley, ragged, limping, and sporting a mud caked beard. In his hands, a cartoon of milk. | I'd always imagined my family was different, for sixteen years my mother had been telling my dad had left to get milk, it was the answer to a lot of her problems in her head, but I think it also pushed her tumbling down the abyss of insanity. She seemed to truly believe that he was only gone to go and get milk and would return once he had found it.
I had just gotten off the phone with the mental institute that my mother was being cared for in as I walked down the street when I felt a cold breeze and felt a pop of sorts, the kind that can be felt but not heard.
I paused before nearly being knocked down by a ragged old man who stumbled forth from the ally, I felt wetness on my pants and saw that he had sloshed some of his milk on me. I felt the anger surge up behind my eyes as I found the words to say to this drunken fool. I met his eyes with mine and we both froze.
"Dad" I asked in shock.
"Son, there's very little time, you leave tonight. Oh God how I've missed you! This curse! This curse!" His voice contained more emotion than any other person had ever mustered in my life.
"Where have you been?" I stuttered.
"At the games, those cursed games, they took my father from me, and his from him!" He was shouting now. The years had taken a kind and caring man from me and delivered back a shaking mess.
"What games?" I asked.
"The milk cup. Such an innocent name for such a bloody sport. Take a boys father they said, that'll make the boy strong! That's what they say!"
"That's what who says?"
"Them" He pointed his shaking wrinkled hand over my shoulder.
It looked like a bubble, soft and supple with the slightest hint of a reflection.
"I love you." He said.
I felt panic creeping up my spine as every fiber of my body was pulled toward the bubble. My fathers tears spilled on the ground which he then collapsed upon.
"I'm sorry. I had to win." He said through sobs. "Now it's your turn." | We both stop, recognition thrusting the air out of our lungs. He looks nothing like the picture next to my bed but it’s him. He’s breathing rapidly and starts to weep. He crumbles in on himself and falls forward on his palm and knees. His hand holding the milk ever so gently lands on the grimy asphalt. He’s sobbing uncontrollably.
“It’s you. I’m here. I’m home. You’re alive” he says somewhat to himself staring at the hand holding the milk. At once, he collapses to his elbows and sinks back on his heels. The sobs make his back convulse and the sound fills and reverberates through the alley. I’m frozen. |
First time writing a prompt, surprise me! | [WP] 17 Years ago, when you were only 6 years old, your father left you and your mother, saying he was going to get milk. As you walk to work your father stumbles out of an alley, ragged, limping, and sporting a mud caked beard. In his hands, a cartoon of milk. | I’m waiting for the bus. First day of work and all that. Suddenly, a man stumbles out of the alley next to the bus stop. He’s ragged, limping, with a chest-length, mud-caked beard. In his hands is a piece of cardboard, with an old-timey milk bottle drawn on it.
“Milk!” He shouts, and a few heads turn his way, “I’ve got the milk, son. Milk. I’ve got milk. Milk, milk, milk!” He holds up the cardboard as though to drink from the bottle.
“He’s here every day,” the man standing next to me says, “Goes in and out the alleys, babbling about his son and milk and carrying around that piece of cardboard. I talked to him once, during one of his lucid moments. It was really quite sad. Said he left home because he could feel himself cracking up, and didn’t want to put that burden on his wife and son.”
The bus hisses to a stop, and we get on. My father said the same thing when he left. As we drive away, I still see him, wandering around, waving the cartoon of milk, occasionally “drinking” from it.
I’ll to talk to him tomorrow. | We both stop, recognition thrusting the air out of our lungs. He looks nothing like the picture next to my bed but it’s him. He’s breathing rapidly and starts to weep. He crumbles in on himself and falls forward on his palm and knees. His hand holding the milk ever so gently lands on the grimy asphalt. He’s sobbing uncontrollably.
“It’s you. I’m here. I’m home. You’re alive” he says somewhat to himself staring at the hand holding the milk. At once, he collapses to his elbows and sinks back on his heels. The sobs make his back convulse and the sound fills and reverberates through the alley. I’m frozen. |
First time writing a prompt, surprise me! | [WP] 17 Years ago, when you were only 6 years old, your father left you and your mother, saying he was going to get milk. As you walk to work your father stumbles out of an alley, ragged, limping, and sporting a mud caked beard. In his hands, a cartoon of milk. | "Dad?" My eyes are telling me he's there, right in front of me. They are screaming the information at my brain, which has ceased to function properly. I've thought about this moment for so long, played out every scenario in my head like a prayer before bed, but when the moment is finally here: I freeze. I never once pictured it like this.
He looks like hell to be honest. Dirty, unshaven, his clothes in rags. He looks at me, stupidly, eyes slightly glazed like he can't understand what's going on. Finally a glimmer of recognition seems to ripple across his face.
"Kendra?" Horror and shock fill little sentence to the brim. He recoils from me like I'm some sort of diseased animal.
The carton of milk falls from his trembling hands and busts open on the concrete. It splashes up onto my shoes and across my leggs but I barely notice it. I'm too captivated by the carton. There's a face on it, some lost kid, but that's not unusual. It's who the face belongs to that has my stomach crawling up my throat.
I remember that face. I saw it every morning for 2 years as I shoved spoonfuls of sugared cereal into my mouth. I remember the news stories covering it. They found the kid, worse for wear but otherwise unharmed, wandering in a field just after labor day SIXTEEN YEARS AGO. They diddnt need the cartons after that.
So why. Why was the milk soaking through my thin rayon leggings COLD. The carton itself sparkles with condensation and shows no signs of age.
I look at up at my father and my brain begins to process what it had seen all along. I had no trouble recognizing him beneath the mud and the rediculous beard, because beyond that he hasn't changed much. No. He hasn't changed at all. My dad stands in front of me, without showing the slightest sign of the last two decades.
I think I'm going to be sick.
| I had always wondered what had happened to him. I had imagined he was dead or in prison or in my darkest moments with a new family. Seeing him clutching a cardboard cutout of a cartoon character was not one of those things. I can't help but feel a tinge of pity for the pathetic person in front of me. How ill must he be to turn out like this? A look of recognition appears on his face.
"Son?" He asks in a wavering voice. Something inside me breaks. All those years. All those feelings. Wondering if it was my fault. I can't stop myself. Looking down on him through narrowed eyes I say the most hurtful thing I can think of.
"Your waifu is trash." I turn and keep walking without looking back. |
First time writing a prompt, surprise me! | [WP] 17 Years ago, when you were only 6 years old, your father left you and your mother, saying he was going to get milk. As you walk to work your father stumbles out of an alley, ragged, limping, and sporting a mud caked beard. In his hands, a cartoon of milk. | "Dad?" My eyes are telling me he's there, right in front of me. They are screaming the information at my brain, which has ceased to function properly. I've thought about this moment for so long, played out every scenario in my head like a prayer before bed, but when the moment is finally here: I freeze. I never once pictured it like this.
He looks like hell to be honest. Dirty, unshaven, his clothes in rags. He looks at me, stupidly, eyes slightly glazed like he can't understand what's going on. Finally a glimmer of recognition seems to ripple across his face.
"Kendra?" Horror and shock fill little sentence to the brim. He recoils from me like I'm some sort of diseased animal.
The carton of milk falls from his trembling hands and busts open on the concrete. It splashes up onto my shoes and across my leggs but I barely notice it. I'm too captivated by the carton. There's a face on it, some lost kid, but that's not unusual. It's who the face belongs to that has my stomach crawling up my throat.
I remember that face. I saw it every morning for 2 years as I shoved spoonfuls of sugared cereal into my mouth. I remember the news stories covering it. They found the kid, worse for wear but otherwise unharmed, wandering in a field just after labor day SIXTEEN YEARS AGO. They diddnt need the cartons after that.
So why. Why was the milk soaking through my thin rayon leggings COLD. The carton itself sparkles with condensation and shows no signs of age.
I look at up at my father and my brain begins to process what it had seen all along. I had no trouble recognizing him beneath the mud and the rediculous beard, because beyond that he hasn't changed much. No. He hasn't changed at all. My dad stands in front of me, without showing the slightest sign of the last two decades.
I think I'm going to be sick.
| “I’m sorry.”
I couldn’t look him in the eyes, not yet. I bet they were still a horrible, shitty brown, and I bet his eyes were still bloodshot and drained, and his face was still pale and rough. I bet he made this alley his home.
“All these years,” I mumbled quietly. I fiddled with my thumbs. “I thought you were dead.”
“I’m sorry, son,” his hoarse voice was followed by a heavy cough and a sniffle. It was dead silent in the alley. Cars flew by out on the street, probably staring at the twenty-three year old man talking to who seemed like a homeless bum. Wondering why anyone would take time out of their day to talk to a scumbag living in garbage. “I wanted to come back.” I stayed silent.
“Mom has a new husband,” I told him. Maybe I shouldn’t have. I looked up at him, and, thankfully, he was staring down at the ground, and I wouldn’t have to meet his eyes yet. His beard grew so much. He was balding, however. His nose was bent, and his lip cut. He still had a birthmark on his left cheek. I remember poking it as a kid, calling it a chocolate chip. “She’s in love.”
“Glad,” he coughed out. I didn’t want to stand here any longer, but I felt like I needed to. This wasn’t what I wanted to see this morning. This isn’t how I expected to meet him again. I hated standing here. I hated being near him, when all this time, it was just me and Mom. And the new guy, to whom I’d just recently gotten accustomed.
“Why did you leave?”
He kept staring at the floor. I stared down too. He wasn’t wearing shoes, and his feet were dirty and his toenails too long. I wanted to vomit.
“Why did you leave?” I repeated. Maybe the bastard was deaf.
“I couldn’t handle it,” he told me.
“You could.”
“I couldn’t,” he enforced. I finally met his eyes. They were horrible, revolting, like they’d seen a war. Like they’d been staring at the dark side of a building for 23 years and hadn’t seen a ray of sunshine or a beam from a flashlight. They seemed surprised and strained and hurt and disappointed, all at the same time. They were looking at me.
“I graduated,” I told him. He looked back down. I continued, hoping to make him feel like shit, even though any amount of shame he felt now would be nothing compared to the decade and a half of me crying, screaming, slamming my head into a wall trying to understand why I wasn’t good enough for another human being to love me. “Honor roll.”
He didn’t say anything. I didn’t want him to say anything.
I followed his line of sight and it led to the cold, hard, concrete ground. I finally acknowledge the carton of milk in his hand. The reason he left. Or, so I thought that was the reason. The excuse as to why he “couldn’t handle” being a father, the excuse as to why he left a six year old child father-less and lost.
He saw my eyes, and held up the half gallon of milk. I stared at him as he coughed into his other hand.
“I got skim,” he raised it higher, chest-level, as if offering for me to hold it. “That’s still your favorite, right?”
It wasn’t.
———
This is my first time posting here. Any and all feedback would be greatly appreciated. |
[WP] aliens are all over our galaxy and far superior to us. However, we are classified as a sacred species due to our unique creation of the arts. | Most other humans refuse to become clergy, but I did. They don't believe themselves worthy of spiritually leading our cosmic neighbors, or they just don't want to lie to them. I don't care, the pay is good, and the job is better than anything they could ever pay me.
"Good day, my cosmic friends. Please turn to page 59 in your prayer books, and let us begin today's devotion."
I hit play on the remote, and the divine music of humanity enraptures the worshippers.
"BOOTY BOOTY BOOTY BOOTY ROCKIN' EVERYWHERE!" | On their knees they bowed low.
Why the they worship we do not know.
We ask them to leave and they won't go.
For the art of the deal is what they shall know.
Edit:words | |
[WP] aliens are all over our galaxy and far superior to us. However, we are classified as a sacred species due to our unique creation of the arts. | The more I think about it the more it just doesn't make sense. Every account in our galactic records shows that once a species has evolved to the point where they can take over their own planet they immediately begin conquering others. That's why all of us are at war, constantly trying to drive one another to extinction. There can be no guarantee of survival as long as another species of equal potential is alive. They must either be enslaved or disposed of. And yet, here we are, all putting our weapons down due to a simple radio transmission from a planet its inhabitants have named "Earth".
A simple piece creating beautiful sound from something they call a "piano". The simple idea is preposterous! This is a civilization that hasn't even come to a world peace that is required to begin conquering other worlds and yet instead they focus on this idea of music, and art, and love. Absolute insanity, a waste of time, but somehow, sublime. This unadulterated form of beauty that was created all in the midst of war, and a struggle for domination between the planet's own people is simply unheard of. So much so that all the species in the galaxy were able to come together and create a pact stated that these "humans" were to be sacred, and untouched by any other alien civilization so that their art would not be influenced by us or corrupted by our interference.
There is something odd about all of this though, the humans keep calling out for someone, or something in the universe to answer. It's as if they are lonely despite how many of them there are. It is almost something that resembles their art of poetry. They wish to contact us, yet we must never let them know of our existence so our ways do not befoul their unique beauty. Perhaps one day, all of us will be able to show our appreciation to them for looking at the universe in a different way; and for giving us this wondrous sound which is perhaps the closest resemblance to the voice of the very universe we live in. | On their knees they bowed low.
Why the they worship we do not know.
We ask them to leave and they won't go.
For the art of the deal is what they shall know.
Edit:words | |
[WP] aliens are all over our galaxy and far superior to us. However, we are classified as a sacred species due to our unique creation of the arts. | ‘They Speak Untruth.’
The words were like a ripple on a lake, spreading to the furthest reaches of the Galactic Council. Every diplomat, every representative hammered the databases for more information on this strange species.
It wasn’t that they lied; Many species lied for tactical benefit. It wasn’t that they did not know; Their science was limited, but sound. It was this…
‘They speak untruths.’
‘Why?’
‘” Just because.”’
It was a powerful idea.
Some tried experimenting with it, flexing mental muscles left unstretched after long years of peaceful existence. In these harmless little lies, they found something. A tiny, infectious little concept called ‘I’.
Some rejected it, and in their rejection, delineated themselves as a species, and made themselves Other.
Some feared it, and in their fear, succumbed to irrationality, and found an ‘I’, afraid again after millennia.
Little cracks showed in the harmony of the council. A solution had to be found.
So they enshrined them; Lifting these hairless apes out of squalid dirt and the surly bonds of gravity, taking them to the stars. Holy keepers of the concept of identity, Lords of Lies. And the council marvelled, for these simple creatures were each masters of an island called Self.
| On their knees they bowed low.
Why the they worship we do not know.
We ask them to leave and they won't go.
For the art of the deal is what they shall know.
Edit:words | |
[WP] aliens are all over our galaxy and far superior to us. However, we are classified as a sacred species due to our unique creation of the arts. | The more I think about it the more it just doesn't make sense. Every account in our galactic records shows that once a species has evolved to the point where they can take over their own planet they immediately begin conquering others. That's why all of us are at war, constantly trying to drive one another to extinction. There can be no guarantee of survival as long as another species of equal potential is alive. They must either be enslaved or disposed of. And yet, here we are, all putting our weapons down due to a simple radio transmission from a planet its inhabitants have named "Earth".
A simple piece creating beautiful sound from something they call a "piano". The simple idea is preposterous! This is a civilization that hasn't even come to a world peace that is required to begin conquering other worlds and yet instead they focus on this idea of music, and art, and love. Absolute insanity, a waste of time, but somehow, sublime. This unadulterated form of beauty that was created all in the midst of war, and a struggle for domination between the planet's own people is simply unheard of. So much so that all the species in the galaxy were able to come together and create a pact stated that these "humans" were to be sacred, and untouched by any other alien civilization so that their art would not be influenced by us or corrupted by our interference.
There is something odd about all of this though, the humans keep calling out for someone, or something in the universe to answer. It's as if they are lonely despite how many of them there are. It is almost something that resembles their art of poetry. They wish to contact us, yet we must never let them know of our existence so our ways do not befoul their unique beauty. Perhaps one day, all of us will be able to show our appreciation to them for looking at the universe in a different way; and for giving us this wondrous sound which is perhaps the closest resemblance to the voice of the very universe we live in. | Most other humans refuse to become clergy, but I did. They don't believe themselves worthy of spiritually leading our cosmic neighbors, or they just don't want to lie to them. I don't care, the pay is good, and the job is better than anything they could ever pay me.
"Good day, my cosmic friends. Please turn to page 59 in your prayer books, and let us begin today's devotion."
I hit play on the remote, and the divine music of humanity enraptures the worshippers.
"BOOTY BOOTY BOOTY BOOTY ROCKIN' EVERYWHERE!" | |
[WP] aliens are all over our galaxy and far superior to us. However, we are classified as a sacred species due to our unique creation of the arts. | ‘They Speak Untruth.’
The words were like a ripple on a lake, spreading to the furthest reaches of the Galactic Council. Every diplomat, every representative hammered the databases for more information on this strange species.
It wasn’t that they lied; Many species lied for tactical benefit. It wasn’t that they did not know; Their science was limited, but sound. It was this…
‘They speak untruths.’
‘Why?’
‘” Just because.”’
It was a powerful idea.
Some tried experimenting with it, flexing mental muscles left unstretched after long years of peaceful existence. In these harmless little lies, they found something. A tiny, infectious little concept called ‘I’.
Some rejected it, and in their rejection, delineated themselves as a species, and made themselves Other.
Some feared it, and in their fear, succumbed to irrationality, and found an ‘I’, afraid again after millennia.
Little cracks showed in the harmony of the council. A solution had to be found.
So they enshrined them; Lifting these hairless apes out of squalid dirt and the surly bonds of gravity, taking them to the stars. Holy keepers of the concept of identity, Lords of Lies. And the council marvelled, for these simple creatures were each masters of an island called Self.
| Most other humans refuse to become clergy, but I did. They don't believe themselves worthy of spiritually leading our cosmic neighbors, or they just don't want to lie to them. I don't care, the pay is good, and the job is better than anything they could ever pay me.
"Good day, my cosmic friends. Please turn to page 59 in your prayer books, and let us begin today's devotion."
I hit play on the remote, and the divine music of humanity enraptures the worshippers.
"BOOTY BOOTY BOOTY BOOTY ROCKIN' EVERYWHERE!" | |
[WP]You're the world's most powerful superhero. Every other superhero respects you and every supervillains fear you, But you actually dont have any powers. | Like many scientific breakthroughs, it began as an accident. Although my discovery had a slightly greater effect on society than post-it notes or chocolate chip cookies, I can’t honestly claim more credit than the fortunate innovators who stumbled into those advances; the mixture that finally worked was the result of almost pure luck. That didn’t mean I was going to let it slip by.
In fact, the accidental nature of my discovery worked to my advantage in the end. It was a one in a million chance that I came across a working formula, which meant it could be decades or more before anyone was able to duplicate my accomplishment, especially since I took extreme measures to ensure that I and I alone knew how it was done.
I am not a genius. I have never claimed to be. But I do possess uncommon sense, and apparently an inordinate amount of luck, which has saved me on multiple occasions and which brought me to where I am today. All who call themselves heroes respect and honor me, and all those who chose to dance with the darker side of humanity fear me and know their place. They all know that without me, they would be nothing; that in a moment I could withdraw my gift and they would have no choice but to fade back into the mundane nothingness from which I raised them up- back to being a faceless placeholder in the bustle of the city, a replaceable detail in someone else’s story. And as long as they remain aware of this, they are safe from me. I will continue to supply them with the formula and in return, I only ask that they acknowledge their debt. I don’t care what uses they put it to, whether they choose to fight evil or cause it. I am not a hero. Saving the world isn’t a priority.
I have never taken the formula myself. The power I wield isn’t of a scientific origin. And I wouldn’t have it any other way. My life, my work, has always consisted of observation- of experimentation and documenting results. So let them go out. Let them be the heroes or villains of their story. Let them play and fight and laugh and love and live and die as they please. Because all the world’s a stage, but all performances need a director. And having set the scene, I am content to sit back and watch the show.
| It’s pretty simple. Doesn’t matter if we’re in a ‘post apocalyptic’ world or the height of modern society. People will be people and they will only think of themselves. The sooner you realize that, the sooner you can arm yourself with the necessary weapons.
If there’s one thing I learned, is that super villains aren’t any different. Neither are their counterparts, the super heroes. There’s equal components in us both. We’re capable of tremendous deeds and equally heinous acts. Those hypocrites just claim to say they lean in a certain direction.
Now, you may be thinking, “I heard about this guy. He stopped the GAIA Corp from destroying the world.” Or “Don’t fuck with this guy. I heard he put two in the head of a Catholic priest in the middle of a sermon.” Both are true. And both have more to the story than you know.
Now, the question you’re probably asking yourself is:
What is he? The hero? Or the Villain?
And I’m here to tell you: I’m neither.
| |
[WP]You're the world's most powerful superhero. Every other superhero respects you and every supervillains fear you, But you actually dont have any powers. | BOOM!!!
A loud explosion was heard from the nearby bank.
It seems like the villains are at it again.
At the scene, many civilians were heavily injured. Some kids' limbs were blown right off. Blood and splintered bones litter the floor.
A man, whose torso got torn right off was crawling out into the open. Dragging his intestines along the floor, he painted the marble promenade dark red. He is severely bleeding and he most likely will not make it. He reaches a man outside, hope filled his dying eyes. He said "please... help my daughter... high lord..." as he pointed towards the bank as he collapsed and life wanes from his eyes.
The standing man sighed. "Time to save the day... AGAIN."
He knelt down to the slain torso, and closed the dead man's eyes. Now he walks onward, into the bank.
Another loud boom and be heard, seems like a supervillain is trying to commit a bank heist. Within, a figure can be seem waving his hand and generating explosions.
"High lord do this, high king do that. Why can't people handle their own problems, they're given powers for crying out loud..." mumbled the man as he entered the building under the veil of smoke from the prior explosion. He ducked and sneaked in without anyone noticing, tiptoeing his way to the group of hostages.
Within, a plea for help can be heard, as a small girl was held hostage by the supervillain. The villain is male, aged around 20-30s. He's wearing a brown jacket with worn pale jeans. In his one arm he locks the girl by the neck. He yells "NOBODY MOVE! OR THE GIRL DIES! PUT THE MONEY IN THE BAG!" as he spread his free hand wide. Flames began to sizzle, burn, and violently combust. He directed the hand upwards, and the sparks converged in the thin air, generating a large explosion. He locked the girl tight as she kicks and squirms, her eyes closed shut in complete fear and panic. She tries to scream for help, but she felt as if the air that entered her lungs burn. She gasped and gasped for just a breath of fresh air but the villain was too powerful for her to defy.
The high lord ducked behind the chairs and counters as he crept ever closer to the arsonist.
The civilians that were held hostage saw him, some of them subtly points at him to tell other captives of their savior's arrival. Hope filled their eyes. The hero do notice their acknowledgement of his presence, but he doesn't want to lose the element of surprise. He looked in their general direction and placed his index finger in front of his mouth, gesturing them to be quiet.
"the high lord's here!" muttered some of the captives. The gesture seems to have the opposite effect.
"WHO ALLOWED YOU TO SPEAK!?" screamed the villain as he makes another blast into the vain air.
"We're not afraid of you! The High Lord is here!" Another young girl stood up. The hero facepalmed.
The villain look around the room. The hero is currently violently shaking his head and whispering the word "NO!" from behind a counter.
"Now, where's this high lord figure? If you lie to me girl..."
Sensing the urgency of the situation, the high lord moved with haste, almost reaching the villain.
"OVER THERE!?" the villain used his free hand to generate a blast that blown the reception table right across the room.
There was no one there.
The hero's butt was clenching, hard. Luck was on his side once again. Now the distance is adequate. He combat rolled in right by the rear of the villain.
"STOP RIGHT THERE VILLAIN!" yelled the hero. The villain turned around, hostage in hand. The arsonist focuses his attention, his eyes stare right into the eye of the high king. Pure terror and dread filled his mind. The sparks began to converge.
Swiftly, the hero sprang upward from the one knee kneel after the combat roll. He clenched his fist hard and threw it with all his might.
It went right into the villain's family jewels. The arsonist's concentration broke, so was his nuts. He fell backwards, releasing the hostage, and clutching what's left of his manly parts tight.
He screamed in manly agony, but the last thing he saw was a man, whom the villains feared, whom the people trusted. The man raised a leg and kicked the knocked down villain right in the nut again. He did it over and over again. The villain screamed "I GIVE UP, I GIVE UP, STOP, STOPPPP!!!" The hero did not relent. He continued to kick and kick the villain right in the groin. The hostages make their run for safety, not looking back.
Eventually, the arsonist could not bear the intense pain. He passed out, and probably died.
Relieved, the hero let loose a triumphant sigh. He slaps the dust on his shirt, and moved out of the bank, signalling the police to move in.
Another bank saved, another paycheck earned.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------
In the dark sewers, rumors began circulating. The villains conspired.
"I was there man, when the high king of the hero association took out the arsonist. He can move unseen, its like he can teleport. I think that's what his power is. The arsonist never stood a chance, the high king just got in and began beating the shit outta him."
"Damn, that's scary. How will we ever deal with him?"
"I think I have a plan." said a hooded figure, sitting under a dimly lit candlelight.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------
that's all folks.
pt. 2?
edit: some typos
| In high school I started as the silent type. Sitting in the corner, face buried in a book. I was a mediocre student and no one really paid much attention. Near the end of 11th grade I had become a wittiest kid around. Being the wittiest kid in a school full of evos probably wasn't the best option.
Through my quick wit, I once found myself face to face with the baddest kid of them all. He charged up his powers and rushed me. All it took was a single punch to the nose and he was down for the count. I became revered by the weaklings, and feared by the powerful, I had full dominance over the political chain of the school.
By senior year, I was class president. People had become to frightened of me to elect anyone else. Meanwhile, my only real power was a bit of snark, and a solid punch. My grades went up, and I graduated top of my class.
Some fed up classmates of mine tried to kill me right after graduation. Guns all drawn with terrible aim, they all killed each other leaving me untouched in the center, all comedic like. Gangs learned of my presence and I was soon put at the top of the list of people to stay away from.
I could enter the scene of an armed robbery, knock out one of the criminals, leaving the rest to scatter or cower with fear. I had so much influence in culture that I was awarded as the hero of the year 3 years in a row. I can get coffee with a picture of my face on it at practically every street corner, children dress up like me for Halloween (Just a casual jacket with rolled up sleeves, and whatever nerdy shirt they can find in their closet). Sure, I've stopped some criminals, removed corrupt leader from office. But this just seems overkill.
It has been almost a decade now and people across the city respect and fear me. I am writing this before I go up to the podium, in the fear that this might be my last recorded document. I've got to be one *someone's* hit list...
Wish me luck
-Governor of Nova Roma, Alex Kilgrav
2, May, 2163 | |
[WP]You're the world's most powerful superhero. Every other superhero respects you and every supervillains fear you, But you actually dont have any powers. | BOOM!!!
A loud explosion was heard from the nearby bank.
It seems like the villains are at it again.
At the scene, many civilians were heavily injured. Some kids' limbs were blown right off. Blood and splintered bones litter the floor.
A man, whose torso got torn right off was crawling out into the open. Dragging his intestines along the floor, he painted the marble promenade dark red. He is severely bleeding and he most likely will not make it. He reaches a man outside, hope filled his dying eyes. He said "please... help my daughter... high lord..." as he pointed towards the bank as he collapsed and life wanes from his eyes.
The standing man sighed. "Time to save the day... AGAIN."
He knelt down to the slain torso, and closed the dead man's eyes. Now he walks onward, into the bank.
Another loud boom and be heard, seems like a supervillain is trying to commit a bank heist. Within, a figure can be seem waving his hand and generating explosions.
"High lord do this, high king do that. Why can't people handle their own problems, they're given powers for crying out loud..." mumbled the man as he entered the building under the veil of smoke from the prior explosion. He ducked and sneaked in without anyone noticing, tiptoeing his way to the group of hostages.
Within, a plea for help can be heard, as a small girl was held hostage by the supervillain. The villain is male, aged around 20-30s. He's wearing a brown jacket with worn pale jeans. In his one arm he locks the girl by the neck. He yells "NOBODY MOVE! OR THE GIRL DIES! PUT THE MONEY IN THE BAG!" as he spread his free hand wide. Flames began to sizzle, burn, and violently combust. He directed the hand upwards, and the sparks converged in the thin air, generating a large explosion. He locked the girl tight as she kicks and squirms, her eyes closed shut in complete fear and panic. She tries to scream for help, but she felt as if the air that entered her lungs burn. She gasped and gasped for just a breath of fresh air but the villain was too powerful for her to defy.
The high lord ducked behind the chairs and counters as he crept ever closer to the arsonist.
The civilians that were held hostage saw him, some of them subtly points at him to tell other captives of their savior's arrival. Hope filled their eyes. The hero do notice their acknowledgement of his presence, but he doesn't want to lose the element of surprise. He looked in their general direction and placed his index finger in front of his mouth, gesturing them to be quiet.
"the high lord's here!" muttered some of the captives. The gesture seems to have the opposite effect.
"WHO ALLOWED YOU TO SPEAK!?" screamed the villain as he makes another blast into the vain air.
"We're not afraid of you! The High Lord is here!" Another young girl stood up. The hero facepalmed.
The villain look around the room. The hero is currently violently shaking his head and whispering the word "NO!" from behind a counter.
"Now, where's this high lord figure? If you lie to me girl..."
Sensing the urgency of the situation, the high lord moved with haste, almost reaching the villain.
"OVER THERE!?" the villain used his free hand to generate a blast that blown the reception table right across the room.
There was no one there.
The hero's butt was clenching, hard. Luck was on his side once again. Now the distance is adequate. He combat rolled in right by the rear of the villain.
"STOP RIGHT THERE VILLAIN!" yelled the hero. The villain turned around, hostage in hand. The arsonist focuses his attention, his eyes stare right into the eye of the high king. Pure terror and dread filled his mind. The sparks began to converge.
Swiftly, the hero sprang upward from the one knee kneel after the combat roll. He clenched his fist hard and threw it with all his might.
It went right into the villain's family jewels. The arsonist's concentration broke, so was his nuts. He fell backwards, releasing the hostage, and clutching what's left of his manly parts tight.
He screamed in manly agony, but the last thing he saw was a man, whom the villains feared, whom the people trusted. The man raised a leg and kicked the knocked down villain right in the nut again. He did it over and over again. The villain screamed "I GIVE UP, I GIVE UP, STOP, STOPPPP!!!" The hero did not relent. He continued to kick and kick the villain right in the groin. The hostages make their run for safety, not looking back.
Eventually, the arsonist could not bear the intense pain. He passed out, and probably died.
Relieved, the hero let loose a triumphant sigh. He slaps the dust on his shirt, and moved out of the bank, signalling the police to move in.
Another bank saved, another paycheck earned.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------
In the dark sewers, rumors began circulating. The villains conspired.
"I was there man, when the high king of the hero association took out the arsonist. He can move unseen, its like he can teleport. I think that's what his power is. The arsonist never stood a chance, the high king just got in and began beating the shit outta him."
"Damn, that's scary. How will we ever deal with him?"
"I think I have a plan." said a hooded figure, sitting under a dimly lit candlelight.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------
that's all folks.
pt. 2?
edit: some typos
| A while back I was working on a serum that would give me incredible powers. Needless to say it worked. Giving me incredible strength, speed, near invulnerability and enhanced senses. I was surprised how well it worked. Hell I was surprised that I was able to use it without any faults.
Well... there is one fault.
You see I didn’t work out some of the kinks to the serum. To make long story short, and the other hero’s don’t know this, it’s basically like a drug. And I’ve gone through multiple withdrawals and let me tell you it’s not pretty.
The serum has the characteristics of a steroid and your typical street drug. Think cocaine and heroine combine with any bodybuilding steroid. The only difference is that I’m not pumping estrogen into my body. My manhood isn’t shrinking, but instead when I’m going through withdrawals I end up feeling fatigued. That’s just the first day. By the fifth day it’s paranoia. By the sixth day (I had to push it to see what would happen) there would be pounding headaches. Two days after I was having trouble breathing and I figured to myself enough was enough. I took a large dose of the serum and passed out.
By the next day I was better. My powers were back. But at what cost?
Then one day, I found a new side affect while fighting one of my archenemies, Collateral. He could cause earthquakes and destroy half a city block. I was getting mad this one day, like, my blood was boiling. He was only ty to rob a bank yet he was kill my innocent people in the process. Once I got my hands on him I blacked out. By the time I came too, I didn’t recognize his face anymore. It was bruised and bloodied. He looked like he couldn’t breathe. When I looked around me all the civilians were terrified.
I was supposed to be a hero for them. And... all I’ve become is a monster.
Two days after that, I came clean with the League. I asked for there help and they accepted.
So far... I am 20 days clean, and still counting. | |
[WP]You're the world's most powerful superhero. Every other superhero respects you and every supervillains fear you, But you actually dont have any powers. | "Haha, and then I will destroy the world!" Dr Doom yelled from the top of the 3 story building.
I paused for a moment, then lifted the megaphone to my lips
"But Dr. Doom, if you destroy the world, then where would you live? There is no known life in this entire galaxy."
"I... well..."
I knew I had him now. This was the fourth time this month I managed to stop his plans.
"It's just like last month, Doom" I said. "You had this amazing idea to conquer the world, but as soon aa you attack any powerful country, the rest of the worlds governments are willing to do whatever they need to in order to stop you. You don't think these plans through man!"
Even at this distance, I could tell that Dr Doom was getting angry.
He yelled back in desperation "What if I enslave all the humans, I have the president captive!"
I couldn't help but laugh. "You should know by now that nobody cares about politicians. We'll just vote in another one and then they'll destroy you. Besides, you can't have every world leader in that one room. Face it, you've lost!"
Dr Doom moved away from the window. The air was still and silent.
Then there was movement at the front door. It slowly pushed open. Dr Doom was there. He surrendered himself, again.
As he passed me I heard him mumble "Curse you Rational Man."
It's all in a days work. | A while back I was working on a serum that would give me incredible powers. Needless to say it worked. Giving me incredible strength, speed, near invulnerability and enhanced senses. I was surprised how well it worked. Hell I was surprised that I was able to use it without any faults.
Well... there is one fault.
You see I didn’t work out some of the kinks to the serum. To make long story short, and the other hero’s don’t know this, it’s basically like a drug. And I’ve gone through multiple withdrawals and let me tell you it’s not pretty.
The serum has the characteristics of a steroid and your typical street drug. Think cocaine and heroine combine with any bodybuilding steroid. The only difference is that I’m not pumping estrogen into my body. My manhood isn’t shrinking, but instead when I’m going through withdrawals I end up feeling fatigued. That’s just the first day. By the fifth day it’s paranoia. By the sixth day (I had to push it to see what would happen) there would be pounding headaches. Two days after I was having trouble breathing and I figured to myself enough was enough. I took a large dose of the serum and passed out.
By the next day I was better. My powers were back. But at what cost?
Then one day, I found a new side affect while fighting one of my archenemies, Collateral. He could cause earthquakes and destroy half a city block. I was getting mad this one day, like, my blood was boiling. He was only ty to rob a bank yet he was kill my innocent people in the process. Once I got my hands on him I blacked out. By the time I came too, I didn’t recognize his face anymore. It was bruised and bloodied. He looked like he couldn’t breathe. When I looked around me all the civilians were terrified.
I was supposed to be a hero for them. And... all I’ve become is a monster.
Two days after that, I came clean with the League. I asked for there help and they accepted.
So far... I am 20 days clean, and still counting. | |
[WP]You're the world's most powerful superhero. Every other superhero respects you and every supervillains fear you, But you actually dont have any powers. | My uncle was a mobster. An honest to goodness mobster. When I was 15 he sat me down and told me "You spend the first 10 years building your reputation. You spend the rest of your life living off if it. This is my gift to you."
I didn't really understand at first.
That was until he started turning over all of his operations to me. It took a few years but the transition was finally complete. I was somewhere between Tony Stark, Lex Luthor, and Vito Coreleon. People did not fuck with me or my town.
My uncle had start rumors when I was a kid that I had powers. But he left it vague. Things like making people's heads explode. People mess with me and bad things happen. Funny how a bullet to the head would have the same effect....Since I would never do that to a good guy, heroes didn't mind. And bad guys quickly got the message I was off limits.
The flip side was my uncle was smart. He started charities. He got into politics. He knew he had to make his money clean. He knew the city had to run. And he wanted to enjoy it. What good is money and influence if you're living in squalor? So he made me a poster child. Started small. Got bigger. Turned me into a beacon of light. Spotless. Has it's benefits.
I don't have any real powers... except maybe making panties drop at thirty feet. | A while back I was working on a serum that would give me incredible powers. Needless to say it worked. Giving me incredible strength, speed, near invulnerability and enhanced senses. I was surprised how well it worked. Hell I was surprised that I was able to use it without any faults.
Well... there is one fault.
You see I didn’t work out some of the kinks to the serum. To make long story short, and the other hero’s don’t know this, it’s basically like a drug. And I’ve gone through multiple withdrawals and let me tell you it’s not pretty.
The serum has the characteristics of a steroid and your typical street drug. Think cocaine and heroine combine with any bodybuilding steroid. The only difference is that I’m not pumping estrogen into my body. My manhood isn’t shrinking, but instead when I’m going through withdrawals I end up feeling fatigued. That’s just the first day. By the fifth day it’s paranoia. By the sixth day (I had to push it to see what would happen) there would be pounding headaches. Two days after I was having trouble breathing and I figured to myself enough was enough. I took a large dose of the serum and passed out.
By the next day I was better. My powers were back. But at what cost?
Then one day, I found a new side affect while fighting one of my archenemies, Collateral. He could cause earthquakes and destroy half a city block. I was getting mad this one day, like, my blood was boiling. He was only ty to rob a bank yet he was kill my innocent people in the process. Once I got my hands on him I blacked out. By the time I came too, I didn’t recognize his face anymore. It was bruised and bloodied. He looked like he couldn’t breathe. When I looked around me all the civilians were terrified.
I was supposed to be a hero for them. And... all I’ve become is a monster.
Two days after that, I came clean with the League. I asked for there help and they accepted.
So far... I am 20 days clean, and still counting. | |
[WP]You're the world's most powerful superhero. Every other superhero respects you and every supervillains fear you, But you actually dont have any powers. | Reputation can be a funny thing sometimes.
There I was at my regular boring job as a desk clerk when out of nowhere who should show up but Lord Melodramatic. Head of the Villains Alliance, top ranked villain in Criminals Monthly, public enemy number One and all around scary dude. He strolls in, starts shouting something about a hostage and drags me into the warehouse I'm supposed to be cataloguing. I had no idea what the hell he wanted and frankly I didn't care, I was just trying not to shit myself. Fortunately enough for me he didn't look where he was going and knocked one of the shelves causing a cascade of boxes carrying god knows what he tumble down and crush the poor fellow.
It was then that the Suits walked in, not the FBI, the Super Suits. They thought they were here to save the day and rescue a hostage but boy were they surprised to find that hostage had somehow killed their mortal enemy. They assumed I had overpowered him and regarded me as a hero. I had to change my number several times to get away from the people bugging me for interviews. And a weird thing started happening, whenever a mugging or a robbery happened nearby the criminals would shit themselves the moment they saw me. "It's him, the guy them murdered Lord Melodramatic" they cry as they flee.
So far I've stopped twenty-eight muggins, twelve bank robberies, three super villain plots and a dognapping just by standing there not doing anything. Before I knew it I was voted Greatest Hero by the Heroes association without even meaning to. Boy is it awkward being pattered on the back by Captain Inscrutable and cheered for by Banshee knowing I don't deserve any of it. | A while back I was working on a serum that would give me incredible powers. Needless to say it worked. Giving me incredible strength, speed, near invulnerability and enhanced senses. I was surprised how well it worked. Hell I was surprised that I was able to use it without any faults.
Well... there is one fault.
You see I didn’t work out some of the kinks to the serum. To make long story short, and the other hero’s don’t know this, it’s basically like a drug. And I’ve gone through multiple withdrawals and let me tell you it’s not pretty.
The serum has the characteristics of a steroid and your typical street drug. Think cocaine and heroine combine with any bodybuilding steroid. The only difference is that I’m not pumping estrogen into my body. My manhood isn’t shrinking, but instead when I’m going through withdrawals I end up feeling fatigued. That’s just the first day. By the fifth day it’s paranoia. By the sixth day (I had to push it to see what would happen) there would be pounding headaches. Two days after I was having trouble breathing and I figured to myself enough was enough. I took a large dose of the serum and passed out.
By the next day I was better. My powers were back. But at what cost?
Then one day, I found a new side affect while fighting one of my archenemies, Collateral. He could cause earthquakes and destroy half a city block. I was getting mad this one day, like, my blood was boiling. He was only ty to rob a bank yet he was kill my innocent people in the process. Once I got my hands on him I blacked out. By the time I came too, I didn’t recognize his face anymore. It was bruised and bloodied. He looked like he couldn’t breathe. When I looked around me all the civilians were terrified.
I was supposed to be a hero for them. And... all I’ve become is a monster.
Two days after that, I came clean with the League. I asked for there help and they accepted.
So far... I am 20 days clean, and still counting. | |
[WP] One day you get a random text on your phone that says: “Welcome to Life Simulator 3! Please choose the level of difficulty.” You answer “super easy”, just to fool around. What you weren’t expecting was a response, or everything that came after. | It has been 4 weeks. 29 days to be exact. 29 days since I confirmed my decision to change life’s difficulty to “super easy.” At first I thought it was a joke, or a game. After learning about the radioactive leak through the satellites, I realized that my decision truly was real.
I lay down on my bed, looking up at the blank ceiling, with a blank mind. I am bored…extremely bored. Every single day I am met with the same tasks.
At approximately 7:00 am, my alarm begins to ring, and I wake up before the second ring. I was known to sleep through my alarm prior to these turn of events, but now I seem to have no struggle getting out of bed.
To further exacerbate the fact that my mornings have been so easy, I am capable of perfecting my eyeliner on both eyes with only one attempt.
Working at the hospital this month has by far been the easiest month on me. As a nurse, I committed myself to a job that is filled with challenges and obstacles. However, there hasn’t been anything that came in my way. My most dreaded task of informing the loss of a loved one to their family has been the simplest task of them all. It seems that everything challenging my way has just transformed into something simple.
No traffic.
Love life: me and my boyfriend are now engaged, and he seems to be agreeing with all my ideas for the wedding.
No sicknesses.
No drama.
But now I sit here, staring blankly at the ceiling. Wondering when I will ever get to resume my life. Because this…this isn’t living.
| The phone brought up another message saying, "super easy mode initiated". You think nothing of it until later in the day. Strangely, the weather out was beautiful, even though rain was predicted, so you decide to go on a walk. On your walk, you find lots of quarters, an unusual amount. Adding up, it came to ten dollars. You decide to spend it at a dollar store, and when you get there, everything is 50% less expensive than it usually is. You buy a chocolate bar and a lottery ticket and go home. Later, you were waiting to see what the winning lottery numbers are, when your dating app begins sending you notifications of people interested in you. As you went into the app, the TV displays the winning number and you almost faint when you realize you won. Then you remember the text you got. You check to look at it again, but find there is nothing there. You wonder if the text had something to do with the amazing things happening that day, but eventually over time, you forget about it. You live out the rest of your life rich, happy and always getting strange good luck.
The end. | |
[WP] One day you get a random text on your phone that says: “Welcome to Life Simulator 3! Please choose the level of difficulty.” You answer “super easy”, just to fool around. What you weren’t expecting was a response, or everything that came after. | The first sight which greeted John on his 18th Birthday was a puddle of his own sick. Worse still, it rested upon his pillow which his head currently lay on. A dull thudding noise seemed to echo around his head and the thin sliver of light creeping between his curtains seemed to burn his eyeballs. Like a jigsaw puzzle in his mind, he tried to piece together what exactly took place last night during his birthday celebrations. There was some drink, music, Emma was there....
Shit! The name unearthed painful and embarrassing memories from a handful of hours ago. It had taken months of planning and nerve to finally ask her out and only two minutes for her to cruelly reject him. He just wished that the rancid bed would swallow him while and keep him there for eternity.
A loud buzzing brought him back to the present as well as reinforcing the shrill pain bouncing around his head. It was his phone. Summing up the last reserves of effort and will to live he lazily picked it up to see who was looking for him. It showed him over 100 notifications; a mix of dull Facebook happy birthdays and mates still taking the piss for last night. However like a crown on a manure pile, the first text seemed to stick out like a sore thumb.
The first thing that puzzled him was the number; it mysteriously had none. Not even a blocked one, none whatsoever. Then the message itself seemed to read like a cryptic code. That or someone taking a piss.
"Congratulations on completing your first free trial for life simulator 3! Please choose your difficulty level. Please be aware; you are currently on moderate difficulty." John frowned at the selection of difficulties presented afterwards, ranging from super easy to impossible. It must be someone taking the piss. But looking around John saw a skinny boy with acne who was failing at exams, completely broke, sitting in his own vomit and has just been cruelly rejected. If this was moderate he may as well play along and see what super-easy entailed, clicking on his newly chosen slection.
" Are you sure? This is for total beginners only. " How apt John thought, I may as well be; clicking on the 'yes' option.
Immediately the sticky feel of the vomit brushing against John's cheek was replaced by the fluffy pillow underneath. John looked down; it had disappeared as quickly as the headache. This was weird, very weird. He quickly glanced around the room for any more magic changes but quickly stopped himself when he saw a stranger in the window. Except it wasn't window but a mirror and it wasn't a stranger but John himself. Except for the fact he had arms like a body builder and a face like a models. Excitedly he checked down below and found it wasn't only his arms which had got bigger.
A shrill buzz from his phone interrupted him from his excited daydream. Thinking it was another prank text to tell him it was all a dream, he prepared for the worst. But no matter how hard he tried, nothing could prepare him for what he saw:
Emma.
And the message wrote:
Sorry about last night; have changed my mind.
What the hell was going on? As fast as Usain Bolt on steroids, John quickly asked a tentative question about meeting up sometime, barely believing his luck. The reply came almost in an instant and each word lifted his spirit closer to heaven:
Yea. Defo. Love you.
"Love you!" John could barely understand what was going on anymore. Emma was a stunner ; easily a supermodel. Yet here she was telling the scrawny kid from class that she had feelings from him. There was only one explanation: the text had been real. As if on cue, a loud knock from the bedroom door confirmed the outlandish theory.
Peeking around the corner was the rosy cheeks of his mother. A bright grin was plastered on her face and she was wheezing heavily as if she was about to burst with excitement.
" John, get up! Great news! My long-lost fifth cousin has died! Ok, maybe that bits not so great...but I hardly knew her anyway. The point is for some reason she left all of her billionaire inheritance money to you. I'm not sure why but still... You're a multi-billionaire John! " she screamed the last words with delight and I matched her smile with one of my own. For once in my life I could actually feel hopeful for the road I was travelling on and my future looked bright. But Mum wasn't finished there....
"That's not all!" She quickly shouted again between great gulps of air and like a magician she produced a large cardboard tube from behind her back. " They found this family tree collecting dust in her appartment. It turns you're directly related to the Royal Family! In fact the Queens willing to abdicate for you you've got such a strong case. The ceremony 's this morning... Get dressed! " only now noticing the creased pyjamas I was currently residing in. Inside my mind was lost, doing cartwheels at the notion of being King of England.
Hurriedly I changed my clothes and jumped into the black limousine waiting for me. As I waite for the driver, I reflected on all that had taken place in the last half hour. I had gotten the girl, money and power and had only God and the text to thank. If it had been right and life was one big game, it was fair to say I was getting a new high score right now. There was nothing left to complete; the thought sending a slight note of unease at the thought of the boredom to come.
The unease was suddenly amplified by the appearance of a plain man in a black suit on the seat beside me. His face was emotionless and his movements stiff, almost as if he was...automated. His mouth opened and the voice coming out of his mouth was flat and monotone.
"You have achieved all your objectives; you have completed the game of life." It informed me as my unease continued to spread though my body.
" So what do I do now? " I nervously asked , keeping one eye on his hand as he fished into his jacket and pulled out a simple, sleek black revolver.
"Play again."
And with the flick of a trigger the game was reset. | The phone brought up another message saying, "super easy mode initiated". You think nothing of it until later in the day. Strangely, the weather out was beautiful, even though rain was predicted, so you decide to go on a walk. On your walk, you find lots of quarters, an unusual amount. Adding up, it came to ten dollars. You decide to spend it at a dollar store, and when you get there, everything is 50% less expensive than it usually is. You buy a chocolate bar and a lottery ticket and go home. Later, you were waiting to see what the winning lottery numbers are, when your dating app begins sending you notifications of people interested in you. As you went into the app, the TV displays the winning number and you almost faint when you realize you won. Then you remember the text you got. You check to look at it again, but find there is nothing there. You wonder if the text had something to do with the amazing things happening that day, but eventually over time, you forget about it. You live out the rest of your life rich, happy and always getting strange good luck.
The end. | |
[WP] One day you get a random text on your phone that says: “Welcome to Life Simulator 3! Please choose the level of difficulty.” You answer “super easy”, just to fool around. What you weren’t expecting was a response, or everything that came after. | It has been 4 weeks. 29 days to be exact. 29 days since I confirmed my decision to change life’s difficulty to “super easy.” At first I thought it was a joke, or a game. After learning about the radioactive leak through the satellites, I realized that my decision truly was real.
I lay down on my bed, looking up at the blank ceiling, with a blank mind. I am bored…extremely bored. Every single day I am met with the same tasks.
At approximately 7:00 am, my alarm begins to ring, and I wake up before the second ring. I was known to sleep through my alarm prior to these turn of events, but now I seem to have no struggle getting out of bed.
To further exacerbate the fact that my mornings have been so easy, I am capable of perfecting my eyeliner on both eyes with only one attempt.
Working at the hospital this month has by far been the easiest month on me. As a nurse, I committed myself to a job that is filled with challenges and obstacles. However, there hasn’t been anything that came in my way. My most dreaded task of informing the loss of a loved one to their family has been the simplest task of them all. It seems that everything challenging my way has just transformed into something simple.
No traffic.
Love life: me and my boyfriend are now engaged, and he seems to be agreeing with all my ideas for the wedding.
No sicknesses.
No drama.
But now I sit here, staring blankly at the ceiling. Wondering when I will ever get to resume my life. Because this…this isn’t living.
| You know those wacky chainmails that you get back in 2000s.
Or those random phone numbers that call you, but it turns out to be some petty scam.
I honestly thought this was just one of those.
And being the typical jokester I am, I decided to play along.
But how would I know that by replying "super easy" to this text instantly changed my life?
How would I know that I would be magically teleported to an alternative universe where archaic witches, ferocious dragons and beautiful princesses exist?
And above all of that, I became the "absolute" emperor of three provinces, offered the finest gourmet, gifts and living experience one can't even possibly imagine.
My personal maid, stood in front of me, greeted me politely as I sat up groggily from my silky bed. *I must be dreaming.*
I pinched myself in which the maid responded by coming towards me, alarmed at my action. *Okay. Whatever this is, I'll just have fun until it lasts.*
And thus, began my "super easy" life in another world.
But as you may already know, life is a rollercoaster. It consistently winds upwards, downwards and sidewards; it is not a cruise leisurely floating across the ocean.
Because a week after my ascension, there was a coup d'état. And before I can even react, I instantly went from riches to rags, locked inside a prison in an alternative universe with no way back to my own world.
*How is this suppose to be super easy? What part of eating a mush of junk and sleeping on the cold hard ground is easy?*
I sighed with contrition, lamenting every bit of my decision and that is when *she* came.
An explosion on the side of the prison in which a powerful magician appeared before me, standing elegantly as I sat back in shock, wondering if I am going to die.
*Come with me, Chosen One. And I'll make your wish come true.*
With that, she left the scene as the alarm has been sounded. I heard guards storming down the stairs towards my location.
*UGH. WHATEVER. I HAVE NOTHING TO LOSE ANYWAYS.*
With that, I followed my mysterious savior and began the saga of my "super easy" life in another world.
| |
[WP] The world's greatest superhero has passed away. As the world braces itself for a crime spree, they are instead met with villains paying their respects to a fallen foe. | There's something people forget about, when it comes to regeneration, healing, and cell division: you only get so many splits before something starts to go wrong, and you start wearing out, breaking down. For most healing supers, they ignore that little bit of fine print, or have ways around it. So, the same was assumed for the unstoppable juggernaut, strongest being to ever walk the earth, with unmatched regeneration: Revenant.
No matter what we threw at him, he kept coming, relentless. Didn't matter if he was a skeleton or a puddle of goo; he'd get back up and hunt you down. It got to the point that we didn't even bother: he would show up, we would leave, if we even kept up the villain careers at that point. He was such a force of nature that we kind if just forgot that under that suit, he was human.
It wasn't until he collapsed on the roadside after clearing out a burning building did the world realize his limits. Despite being active for a little over a decade, paramedics unmasked the body of an old, withered man, killed from the inside after he burned through his clock.
After that, people were in a frenzy: what was anyone going to do, nothing's stopping us monsters anymore. Except there was: the fact that our greatest nightmare was knowingly sacrificing his life day after day to stop us and save lives gave us pause. We were silent for weeks, then months, and when we came back, we kept in mind the pain Revenant went through, and our collection of monsters, ne'er-do-wells and scoundrels honored that sacrifice. | It was late autumn, yet the usual sounds of wildlife were absent from the green, rustic mountain. The sunlight, emanated from the setting sun, was conspicuously absent from the peak, blocked off by hundreds — no, thousands — of silhouettes.
A somber silence was omnipresent in a place full of life, but what was far more surprising was the identity of each and every silhouette. Each and every person floating around the peak were famous.
Superheroes and supervillains alike had gathered together, and instead of engaging in combat, this particular crowd of legends were content to just stay and observe the mountain peak.
The sun steadily dipped towards the western horizon as the minutes passed.
As dusk fell, the world shook for the slightest moment. A ring of light appeared, surrounding the base of the mountain, and a ripple ran through the crowd. From nowhere, a bell sounded, slow and solemn in its tolling. A ring of light appeared for every toll of the bell, lighting up the mountain in place of the sun.
A sorrowful wail rang out from the mountain. At one glance, it was a young man, racing up towards the mountain, towards a nameless, inconspicuous cave. As the crowd observed the sight, as though as they had agreed on such an act beforehand, they moved as one to land gently on the uneven ground, sitting in a cross-legged leg fashion.
The unseen bell had toiled over 50 times, and a equal number of rings of light had appeared, each one manifesting 10 metres above the previous ones. This ring of light was an iconic manifestation of the bloodline of the strongest superhero in the world.
Versatile in use, these rings had saved as many heroes as they foiled the plans of villains alike. And today, in a pre-programmed response, they were here to ensure the smooth passing of the Virtuous Paragon, to guard his soul from enemies of another plane as he passed into eternal rest.
Under the silent vigil of the seated crowd of legendary figures, the young man had finally made his way into the cave. The 99th bell toll sounded out, and silence finally ensued all around, only broken by the heartrending wail that had followed almost immediately. At the same time, the rings of light that had been gathering around the mountain coalesced into one pillar of light, illuminating the mountainous plains for miles around.
In that one instant, a truly world-shaking tremor emerged from the mountain, and everyone worldwide instinctively knew. As the realisation hit everyone present, murmurs started appearing from all around as each and everyone present bowed their heads in respect, from heroes and villains alike. They ranged from tales of his heroics, to his everyday acts of kindness. They spoke of his enlightened demeanor, and his humility.
The tales of his exploits continued even as the pillar of light finally extinguished, its radiance forever gone.
And then, it came.
A single mote of light appeared, a brilliant dot against the dark, moonless sky. The characteristic azure-violet light was from a well-known rival of the Virtuous Paragon, the Violet Sun, and the crowd collectively flinched in reaction. Yet, the mote of light just stayed there and did nothing.
More and more specks of light appeared, each of them carrying lights characteristic of both heroes and villains alike. Soon, in place of the pillar of light that had illuminated the plains minutes ago, was the blinding radiance of the tributes from the heroes and villains present.
And far away on the mountain top, under the brilliant light of the now-starry sky, wept a young man, who had lost his closest kin. | |
[WP] The world's greatest superhero has passed away. As the world braces itself for a crime spree, they are instead met with villains paying their respects to a fallen foe. | "It's strange. Even in old age, the guy struck me as someone who'd outlast us all, you know."
Tom scratched his beard, the snowflakes settling in. It was winter in the middle of Missouri, the flakes softly floated down to a cold dead earth at a very small cemetery. Him and his friend, Melissa, stood in front of the real grave of Marcus Simson, better known as the Equalizer. Marcus was a man with a tough upbringing, or so they said during the wake. Raised in slums in Brazil when he carried his old name, through keeping the streets there safe he raised a local task force which would set forward the Team's work across the world in policing it of the greatest threat known to man. He laid the foundation of a protection service that was global and free to all, that had saved the lives of hundreds of thousands, probably million or perhaps everyone who lived today and will in the future. Including those who opposed him.
"He was mortal." Melissa said, hugging herself a little harder. Her draconic features made her very uncomfortable in the winter, but she insisted on being here anyway. She brought a suit that kept her body temperature up to a comfort level, but she had insulated herself with clothing so much that anyone else wouldn't recognize her.
They both had fought the eccentric but dedicated superhuman in their own ways. Melissa, also known as Dragon, had her first run-in with him in Puerto Rico. She'd been on a vigilante streak that turned sideways. When she turned away his help, he had her contained. She hated him, but respected his resolve and understood that he did what he felt was right. She didn't agree with it, but she understood.
Tom, on the other hand, was a bit more successful. His old squad managed to escape his justice plenty of times, and whenever they did, they managed to break out any way. He recalled Marcus letting him out of prison so Tom could attend his daughter's birthday. Opposing views or not, Tom would forever be grateful for that.
"We all are, you know."
"Serpent isn't."
"Serpent will die of old age one day. How do you know he's not full of shit?"
"He remembers things too clearly for them to be flukes. He shows up all over the history books, you know."
"You're in the cahoots with him?"
"Until I get what I want from him."
"I told you not to go that way. You're better than that."
"Am I really?"
"I think you are."
"Fucking Christ, Tommy, you lost your way."
"Maybe I found it."
"Maybe they *brainwashed* you."
"We're never going to stop having this conversation, will we?"
She didn't answer. A couple of steps forward, she wiped the snow off of the gravestone.
>Marcus Samson
>01-12-1943 -- 12-11-2017
>A man unlike any other,
>His legacy knows no bounds.
>We are forever grateful for your gifts,
>May we meet you again someday.
"What was the wake like?" Melissa asked.
"Quite lovely. Music from the sixties, apparently a big fan of the Pistols. No baby pictures, thank God. Veterans from all over the world came to say a word. Tears were shed. Some people didn't want me there, but hey, it's not like they could just get me out, right?"
"Did they do right by him?"
"Egh, was a little over the top for my taste, but he insisted on something cultural."
Melissa scoffed, but as she stood next to Tom, she held his hand for the first time in a long time.
"I think I'll miss him." She said after a while.
"We all will. But he's earned his rest."
"I hope I get to go out like him."
"Figured you were more of the 'going out with a bang' or 'blazing glory' type instead of surrounded by family in your sleep."
"How would you go, if you could?"
"Pfft, I don't really think about that."
"Will you have someone to be with?"
"...I don't know"
"Neither do I. We fucked up somewhere along the way in that regard, didn't we?"
They stood there, skies grey and their world covered in snow. Hand in hand, in front of the real grave of a man too large for life. Wondering about how they wanted to make their mark on the lives of others. About what they would leave behind for the world.
And they realized they'd be a star to the sun that was Marcus.
| It was late autumn, yet the usual sounds of wildlife were absent from the green, rustic mountain. The sunlight, emanated from the setting sun, was conspicuously absent from the peak, blocked off by hundreds — no, thousands — of silhouettes.
A somber silence was omnipresent in a place full of life, but what was far more surprising was the identity of each and every silhouette. Each and every person floating around the peak were famous.
Superheroes and supervillains alike had gathered together, and instead of engaging in combat, this particular crowd of legends were content to just stay and observe the mountain peak.
The sun steadily dipped towards the western horizon as the minutes passed.
As dusk fell, the world shook for the slightest moment. A ring of light appeared, surrounding the base of the mountain, and a ripple ran through the crowd. From nowhere, a bell sounded, slow and solemn in its tolling. A ring of light appeared for every toll of the bell, lighting up the mountain in place of the sun.
A sorrowful wail rang out from the mountain. At one glance, it was a young man, racing up towards the mountain, towards a nameless, inconspicuous cave. As the crowd observed the sight, as though as they had agreed on such an act beforehand, they moved as one to land gently on the uneven ground, sitting in a cross-legged leg fashion.
The unseen bell had toiled over 50 times, and a equal number of rings of light had appeared, each one manifesting 10 metres above the previous ones. This ring of light was an iconic manifestation of the bloodline of the strongest superhero in the world.
Versatile in use, these rings had saved as many heroes as they foiled the plans of villains alike. And today, in a pre-programmed response, they were here to ensure the smooth passing of the Virtuous Paragon, to guard his soul from enemies of another plane as he passed into eternal rest.
Under the silent vigil of the seated crowd of legendary figures, the young man had finally made his way into the cave. The 99th bell toll sounded out, and silence finally ensued all around, only broken by the heartrending wail that had followed almost immediately. At the same time, the rings of light that had been gathering around the mountain coalesced into one pillar of light, illuminating the mountainous plains for miles around.
In that one instant, a truly world-shaking tremor emerged from the mountain, and everyone worldwide instinctively knew. As the realisation hit everyone present, murmurs started appearing from all around as each and everyone present bowed their heads in respect, from heroes and villains alike. They ranged from tales of his heroics, to his everyday acts of kindness. They spoke of his enlightened demeanor, and his humility.
The tales of his exploits continued even as the pillar of light finally extinguished, its radiance forever gone.
And then, it came.
A single mote of light appeared, a brilliant dot against the dark, moonless sky. The characteristic azure-violet light was from a well-known rival of the Virtuous Paragon, the Violet Sun, and the crowd collectively flinched in reaction. Yet, the mote of light just stayed there and did nothing.
More and more specks of light appeared, each of them carrying lights characteristic of both heroes and villains alike. Soon, in place of the pillar of light that had illuminated the plains minutes ago, was the blinding radiance of the tributes from the heroes and villains present.
And far away on the mountain top, under the brilliant light of the now-starry sky, wept a young man, who had lost his closest kin. | |
[WP] The world's greatest superhero has passed away. As the world braces itself for a crime spree, they are instead met with villains paying their respects to a fallen foe. | The sky above the cemetery was a mess.
Rain, snow, lightnings and fire were tearing it apart in a chaos made of sorrow and pain.
The other heroes tried to calm down all the powerful psychics and magicians present, but it was impossible.He had died, and his funeral was only the beginning of what many considered a comeback of the Evil Rise.
That day everyone was here.Family, friends,rivals,colleagues,complete strangers,even heads of nations all around the world.Everyone had something to say about Leonard Höffmann,aka Knight Heart.His achievements were glorified,his every deed remembered,his daparture mourned.Appeals to mantain order and expect harsh times were made.Not even a single word about villains.Villains were never recognised as a problem by any government,and they certainly wouldn't do it now.That's why heroes were necessary.
Night fell,and when night falls the evil come out to play.
The villains came.Actually they were already in front of the tomb.Thousands of them,almost as many as the good guys and just as mismatched.The cameras never left from this morning.It was supposed to be a showcase of force.Annihilating all the criminals that would come to desecrate His tomb meant proving that the situation was still under control.Their second mistake was not considering teleportation.Their first was thinking they could be stopped.
"Disgusting, they turned it in a mediatic circus" hissed Marauder "And you did nothing.When Fox died, he ensured that she had a normal funeral, without this charade.Couldn't you do something for him,at least once?".
They were surrounded by law enforcement officers and heroes but no fear was on their faces.They were the 'top dogs'.Wanted in every country of the world,the worst of the worst.Everyone that ever fought Knightheart and managed to survive,escape or *defeat* him.This assemblement of buffoons,however numerous, was never going to represent a threat, not without their brightest star.
The two groups looked at each other, one in shame and anger, the other just confused.
"This is too far!You are the ones talking about *morality*?!Get down your pedestal, you are the ones that brought him to his grave, at least have the decency to leave alone his corpse." finally exploded a young detective,George Maskelyne,one of Leonard's pupils.
"Enough chit-chat,let's kill them!They're as harmless as a little chick now" roared a villain, Boulder Man.
It was like someone gave the starting signal:guns were fired, powers were in full full motion, the two sides about to engage in a full scale war.Then, as it started, everything ended,in a fraction of second.In a moment of unnatural stillnes, the shine of a sword that cut through everything appeared from nowhere.Again, nobody moved,they watched as while Boulder Man stood rooted on the spot,his head fell slowly,detached from the body, and both disintegrated before they touched the ground.
"I'll not alllow this kind of stupidity right above my old friend's coffin.Fighting here is banned from now.Death penalty.He wouldn't have wanted this day or this place to be rembered for a massacre."
*That person* was here too apparently.An old friend,an old enemy,he was maybe the one who understood Leonard the best.
They were now in front of the stele,the damned and the renegades.
"Well,we are all here now...what was the plan again?" asked Mermaid with her usual terrifying 900 teeth smile.
"He was a great warrior,I will not permit anyone to disrespect his death too" ,a chill went down their spines,when they heard this voice:Fog Lich wasn't a pushover either, and he was an utter madman,the only one with a genocide in his resumee.One million killed,one by one.After that,the awkard and stifling silence lasted for minutes.Regret,grief and even piety showed on a few faces.They weren't decent people, not even one of them.They were the monsters of this world,and now they were missing their hunter.A strange feeling started to grow inside their withered hearts for the first time.Guilt.They were feeling guilty,for broking an unbreakable man.Surprisingly these wicked freaks were among those very few that weren't sorry for the hero.They were sorry for the man.A good man.A man who sacrificed everything to save humanity...and, in the end, gave up.They let that feeling sink in.The wind blowing the old leeves on the ground was the only sound in the graveyard.
"Goodbye, Leonard Höffmann" a voice whispered.
"Goodbye, Leonard Höffmann" said another voice,clearer this time.
Soon the sentence bounced back and forth in the crowd of ruthless idividuals,then followed by their enemies.Through years of numerous fights, hate and fear were accompanied by admiration and respect for the Knight who stood unwavering on the side of justice.Someone wept,someone sighed.
Silence reigned again.
They dispersed after a while,ending their salute.
Only one still remained.
A cat with a sword, a lonely shadow blending with the night.
Even now, not a soul tried to arrest him,the public enemy number one.He was Halfblade.Only Knight Heart could match him.A tear wet the dirt of the grave.
"Of all the deaths you could have chosen,you chose suicide..." | It was late autumn, yet the usual sounds of wildlife were absent from the green, rustic mountain. The sunlight, emanated from the setting sun, was conspicuously absent from the peak, blocked off by hundreds — no, thousands — of silhouettes.
A somber silence was omnipresent in a place full of life, but what was far more surprising was the identity of each and every silhouette. Each and every person floating around the peak were famous.
Superheroes and supervillains alike had gathered together, and instead of engaging in combat, this particular crowd of legends were content to just stay and observe the mountain peak.
The sun steadily dipped towards the western horizon as the minutes passed.
As dusk fell, the world shook for the slightest moment. A ring of light appeared, surrounding the base of the mountain, and a ripple ran through the crowd. From nowhere, a bell sounded, slow and solemn in its tolling. A ring of light appeared for every toll of the bell, lighting up the mountain in place of the sun.
A sorrowful wail rang out from the mountain. At one glance, it was a young man, racing up towards the mountain, towards a nameless, inconspicuous cave. As the crowd observed the sight, as though as they had agreed on such an act beforehand, they moved as one to land gently on the uneven ground, sitting in a cross-legged leg fashion.
The unseen bell had toiled over 50 times, and a equal number of rings of light had appeared, each one manifesting 10 metres above the previous ones. This ring of light was an iconic manifestation of the bloodline of the strongest superhero in the world.
Versatile in use, these rings had saved as many heroes as they foiled the plans of villains alike. And today, in a pre-programmed response, they were here to ensure the smooth passing of the Virtuous Paragon, to guard his soul from enemies of another plane as he passed into eternal rest.
Under the silent vigil of the seated crowd of legendary figures, the young man had finally made his way into the cave. The 99th bell toll sounded out, and silence finally ensued all around, only broken by the heartrending wail that had followed almost immediately. At the same time, the rings of light that had been gathering around the mountain coalesced into one pillar of light, illuminating the mountainous plains for miles around.
In that one instant, a truly world-shaking tremor emerged from the mountain, and everyone worldwide instinctively knew. As the realisation hit everyone present, murmurs started appearing from all around as each and everyone present bowed their heads in respect, from heroes and villains alike. They ranged from tales of his heroics, to his everyday acts of kindness. They spoke of his enlightened demeanor, and his humility.
The tales of his exploits continued even as the pillar of light finally extinguished, its radiance forever gone.
And then, it came.
A single mote of light appeared, a brilliant dot against the dark, moonless sky. The characteristic azure-violet light was from a well-known rival of the Virtuous Paragon, the Violet Sun, and the crowd collectively flinched in reaction. Yet, the mote of light just stayed there and did nothing.
More and more specks of light appeared, each of them carrying lights characteristic of both heroes and villains alike. Soon, in place of the pillar of light that had illuminated the plains minutes ago, was the blinding radiance of the tributes from the heroes and villains present.
And far away on the mountain top, under the brilliant light of the now-starry sky, wept a young man, who had lost his closest kin. | |
[WP] The world's greatest superhero has passed away. As the world braces itself for a crime spree, they are instead met with villains paying their respects to a fallen foe. | The sky above the cemetery was a mess.
Rain, snow, lightnings and fire were tearing it apart in a chaos made of sorrow and pain.
The other heroes tried to calm down all the powerful psychics and magicians present, but it was impossible.He had died, and his funeral was only the beginning of what many considered a comeback of the Evil Rise.
That day everyone was here.Family, friends,rivals,colleagues,complete strangers,even heads of nations all around the world.Everyone had something to say about Leonard Höffmann,aka Knight Heart.His achievements were glorified,his every deed remembered,his daparture mourned.Appeals to mantain order and expect harsh times were made.Not even a single word about villains.Villains were never recognised as a problem by any government,and they certainly wouldn't do it now.That's why heroes were necessary.
Night fell,and when night falls the evil come out to play.
The villains came.Actually they were already in front of the tomb.Thousands of them,almost as many as the good guys and just as mismatched.The cameras never left from this morning.It was supposed to be a showcase of force.Annihilating all the criminals that would come to desecrate His tomb meant proving that the situation was still under control.Their second mistake was not considering teleportation.Their first was thinking they could be stopped.
"Disgusting, they turned it in a mediatic circus" hissed Marauder "And you did nothing.When Fox died, he ensured that she had a normal funeral, without this charade.Couldn't you do something for him,at least once?".
They were surrounded by law enforcement officers and heroes but no fear was on their faces.They were the 'top dogs'.Wanted in every country of the world,the worst of the worst.Everyone that ever fought Knightheart and managed to survive,escape or *defeat* him.This assemblement of buffoons,however numerous, was never going to represent a threat, not without their brightest star.
The two groups looked at each other, one in shame and anger, the other just confused.
"This is too far!You are the ones talking about *morality*?!Get down your pedestal, you are the ones that brought him to his grave, at least have the decency to leave alone his corpse." finally exploded a young detective,George Maskelyne,one of Leonard's pupils.
"Enough chit-chat,let's kill them!They're as harmless as a little chick now" roared a villain, Boulder Man.
It was like someone gave the starting signal:guns were fired, powers were in full full motion, the two sides about to engage in a full scale war.Then, as it started, everything ended,in a fraction of second.In a moment of unnatural stillnes, the shine of a sword that cut through everything appeared from nowhere.Again, nobody moved,they watched as while Boulder Man stood rooted on the spot,his head fell slowly,detached from the body, and both disintegrated before they touched the ground.
"I'll not alllow this kind of stupidity right above my old friend's coffin.Fighting here is banned from now.Death penalty.He wouldn't have wanted this day or this place to be rembered for a massacre."
*That person* was here too apparently.An old friend,an old enemy,he was maybe the one who understood Leonard the best.
They were now in front of the stele,the damned and the renegades.
"Well,we are all here now...what was the plan again?" asked Mermaid with her usual terrifying 900 teeth smile.
"He was a great warrior,I will not permit anyone to disrespect his death too" ,a chill went down their spines,when they heard this voice:Fog Lich wasn't a pushover either, and he was an utter madman,the only one with a genocide in his resumee.One million killed,one by one.After that,the awkard and stifling silence lasted for minutes.Regret,grief and even piety showed on a few faces.They weren't decent people, not even one of them.They were the monsters of this world,and now they were missing their hunter.A strange feeling started to grow inside their withered hearts for the first time.Guilt.They were feeling guilty,for broking an unbreakable man.Surprisingly these wicked freaks were among those very few that weren't sorry for the hero.They were sorry for the man.A good man.A man who sacrificed everything to save humanity...and, in the end, gave up.They let that feeling sink in.The wind blowing the old leeves on the ground was the only sound in the graveyard.
"Goodbye, Leonard Höffmann" a voice whispered.
"Goodbye, Leonard Höffmann" said another voice,clearer this time.
Soon the sentence bounced back and forth in the crowd of ruthless idividuals,then followed by their enemies.Through years of numerous fights, hate and fear were accompanied by admiration and respect for the Knight who stood unwavering on the side of justice.Someone wept,someone sighed.
Silence reigned again.
They dispersed after a while,ending their salute.
Only one still remained.
A cat with a sword, a lonely shadow blending with the night.
Even now, not a soul tried to arrest him,the public enemy number one.He was Halfblade.Only Knight Heart could match him.A tear wet the dirt of the grave.
"Of all the deaths you could have chosen,you chose suicide..." | There's something people forget about, when it comes to regeneration, healing, and cell division: you only get so many splits before something starts to go wrong, and you start wearing out, breaking down. For most healing supers, they ignore that little bit of fine print, or have ways around it. So, the same was assumed for the unstoppable juggernaut, strongest being to ever walk the earth, with unmatched regeneration: Revenant.
No matter what we threw at him, he kept coming, relentless. Didn't matter if he was a skeleton or a puddle of goo; he'd get back up and hunt you down. It got to the point that we didn't even bother: he would show up, we would leave, if we even kept up the villain careers at that point. He was such a force of nature that we kind if just forgot that under that suit, he was human.
It wasn't until he collapsed on the roadside after clearing out a burning building did the world realize his limits. Despite being active for a little over a decade, paramedics unmasked the body of an old, withered man, killed from the inside after he burned through his clock.
After that, people were in a frenzy: what was anyone going to do, nothing's stopping us monsters anymore. Except there was: the fact that our greatest nightmare was knowingly sacrificing his life day after day to stop us and save lives gave us pause. We were silent for weeks, then months, and when we came back, we kept in mind the pain Revenant went through, and our collection of monsters, ne'er-do-wells and scoundrels honored that sacrifice. | |
[WP] The world's greatest superhero has passed away. As the world braces itself for a crime spree, they are instead met with villains paying their respects to a fallen foe. | The sky above the cemetery was a mess.
Rain, snow, lightnings and fire were tearing it apart in a chaos made of sorrow and pain.
The other heroes tried to calm down all the powerful psychics and magicians present, but it was impossible.He had died, and his funeral was only the beginning of what many considered a comeback of the Evil Rise.
That day everyone was here.Family, friends,rivals,colleagues,complete strangers,even heads of nations all around the world.Everyone had something to say about Leonard Höffmann,aka Knight Heart.His achievements were glorified,his every deed remembered,his daparture mourned.Appeals to mantain order and expect harsh times were made.Not even a single word about villains.Villains were never recognised as a problem by any government,and they certainly wouldn't do it now.That's why heroes were necessary.
Night fell,and when night falls the evil come out to play.
The villains came.Actually they were already in front of the tomb.Thousands of them,almost as many as the good guys and just as mismatched.The cameras never left from this morning.It was supposed to be a showcase of force.Annihilating all the criminals that would come to desecrate His tomb meant proving that the situation was still under control.Their second mistake was not considering teleportation.Their first was thinking they could be stopped.
"Disgusting, they turned it in a mediatic circus" hissed Marauder "And you did nothing.When Fox died, he ensured that she had a normal funeral, without this charade.Couldn't you do something for him,at least once?".
They were surrounded by law enforcement officers and heroes but no fear was on their faces.They were the 'top dogs'.Wanted in every country of the world,the worst of the worst.Everyone that ever fought Knightheart and managed to survive,escape or *defeat* him.This assemblement of buffoons,however numerous, was never going to represent a threat, not without their brightest star.
The two groups looked at each other, one in shame and anger, the other just confused.
"This is too far!You are the ones talking about *morality*?!Get down your pedestal, you are the ones that brought him to his grave, at least have the decency to leave alone his corpse." finally exploded a young detective,George Maskelyne,one of Leonard's pupils.
"Enough chit-chat,let's kill them!They're as harmless as a little chick now" roared a villain, Boulder Man.
It was like someone gave the starting signal:guns were fired, powers were in full full motion, the two sides about to engage in a full scale war.Then, as it started, everything ended,in a fraction of second.In a moment of unnatural stillnes, the shine of a sword that cut through everything appeared from nowhere.Again, nobody moved,they watched as while Boulder Man stood rooted on the spot,his head fell slowly,detached from the body, and both disintegrated before they touched the ground.
"I'll not alllow this kind of stupidity right above my old friend's coffin.Fighting here is banned from now.Death penalty.He wouldn't have wanted this day or this place to be rembered for a massacre."
*That person* was here too apparently.An old friend,an old enemy,he was maybe the one who understood Leonard the best.
They were now in front of the stele,the damned and the renegades.
"Well,we are all here now...what was the plan again?" asked Mermaid with her usual terrifying 900 teeth smile.
"He was a great warrior,I will not permit anyone to disrespect his death too" ,a chill went down their spines,when they heard this voice:Fog Lich wasn't a pushover either, and he was an utter madman,the only one with a genocide in his resumee.One million killed,one by one.After that,the awkard and stifling silence lasted for minutes.Regret,grief and even piety showed on a few faces.They weren't decent people, not even one of them.They were the monsters of this world,and now they were missing their hunter.A strange feeling started to grow inside their withered hearts for the first time.Guilt.They were feeling guilty,for broking an unbreakable man.Surprisingly these wicked freaks were among those very few that weren't sorry for the hero.They were sorry for the man.A good man.A man who sacrificed everything to save humanity...and, in the end, gave up.They let that feeling sink in.The wind blowing the old leeves on the ground was the only sound in the graveyard.
"Goodbye, Leonard Höffmann" a voice whispered.
"Goodbye, Leonard Höffmann" said another voice,clearer this time.
Soon the sentence bounced back and forth in the crowd of ruthless idividuals,then followed by their enemies.Through years of numerous fights, hate and fear were accompanied by admiration and respect for the Knight who stood unwavering on the side of justice.Someone wept,someone sighed.
Silence reigned again.
They dispersed after a while,ending their salute.
Only one still remained.
A cat with a sword, a lonely shadow blending with the night.
Even now, not a soul tried to arrest him,the public enemy number one.He was Halfblade.Only Knight Heart could match him.A tear wet the dirt of the grave.
"Of all the deaths you could have chosen,you chose suicide..." | "It's strange. Even in old age, the guy struck me as someone who'd outlast us all, you know."
Tom scratched his beard, the snowflakes settling in. It was winter in the middle of Missouri, the flakes softly floated down to a cold dead earth at a very small cemetery. Him and his friend, Melissa, stood in front of the real grave of Marcus Simson, better known as the Equalizer. Marcus was a man with a tough upbringing, or so they said during the wake. Raised in slums in Brazil when he carried his old name, through keeping the streets there safe he raised a local task force which would set forward the Team's work across the world in policing it of the greatest threat known to man. He laid the foundation of a protection service that was global and free to all, that had saved the lives of hundreds of thousands, probably million or perhaps everyone who lived today and will in the future. Including those who opposed him.
"He was mortal." Melissa said, hugging herself a little harder. Her draconic features made her very uncomfortable in the winter, but she insisted on being here anyway. She brought a suit that kept her body temperature up to a comfort level, but she had insulated herself with clothing so much that anyone else wouldn't recognize her.
They both had fought the eccentric but dedicated superhuman in their own ways. Melissa, also known as Dragon, had her first run-in with him in Puerto Rico. She'd been on a vigilante streak that turned sideways. When she turned away his help, he had her contained. She hated him, but respected his resolve and understood that he did what he felt was right. She didn't agree with it, but she understood.
Tom, on the other hand, was a bit more successful. His old squad managed to escape his justice plenty of times, and whenever they did, they managed to break out any way. He recalled Marcus letting him out of prison so Tom could attend his daughter's birthday. Opposing views or not, Tom would forever be grateful for that.
"We all are, you know."
"Serpent isn't."
"Serpent will die of old age one day. How do you know he's not full of shit?"
"He remembers things too clearly for them to be flukes. He shows up all over the history books, you know."
"You're in the cahoots with him?"
"Until I get what I want from him."
"I told you not to go that way. You're better than that."
"Am I really?"
"I think you are."
"Fucking Christ, Tommy, you lost your way."
"Maybe I found it."
"Maybe they *brainwashed* you."
"We're never going to stop having this conversation, will we?"
She didn't answer. A couple of steps forward, she wiped the snow off of the gravestone.
>Marcus Samson
>01-12-1943 -- 12-11-2017
>A man unlike any other,
>His legacy knows no bounds.
>We are forever grateful for your gifts,
>May we meet you again someday.
"What was the wake like?" Melissa asked.
"Quite lovely. Music from the sixties, apparently a big fan of the Pistols. No baby pictures, thank God. Veterans from all over the world came to say a word. Tears were shed. Some people didn't want me there, but hey, it's not like they could just get me out, right?"
"Did they do right by him?"
"Egh, was a little over the top for my taste, but he insisted on something cultural."
Melissa scoffed, but as she stood next to Tom, she held his hand for the first time in a long time.
"I think I'll miss him." She said after a while.
"We all will. But he's earned his rest."
"I hope I get to go out like him."
"Figured you were more of the 'going out with a bang' or 'blazing glory' type instead of surrounded by family in your sleep."
"How would you go, if you could?"
"Pfft, I don't really think about that."
"Will you have someone to be with?"
"...I don't know"
"Neither do I. We fucked up somewhere along the way in that regard, didn't we?"
They stood there, skies grey and their world covered in snow. Hand in hand, in front of the real grave of a man too large for life. Wondering about how they wanted to make their mark on the lives of others. About what they would leave behind for the world.
And they realized they'd be a star to the sun that was Marcus.
| |
[WP] The world's greatest superhero has passed away. As the world braces itself for a crime spree, they are instead met with villains paying their respects to a fallen foe. | He had been the greatest.
Gregory Willoughby, better known as the Warden had protected the earth and ist citizens for more than 50 years, always vigilant, unrelenting, steadfast.
Countless villains had made great plans to conquer this country or that continent, some had had even greater plans designed to take over the world. As head oft he Heroes‘ Union, the Warden, sometimes with other heroes‘ help, often on his own, had foiled all those plans, had won all his battles.
Yet there was one battle he could not win: The one against time. For more than 50 years, he had been the primary force of good in the world, when push came to shove, no villainous force, no grandious scheme, no powerful alliance of evil could stand up to the Warden. He was always there and for all that time it seemed like he would always be. Even when his hair had grayed and his features had wrinkled he never had seemed to lose even an iota of his sheer endless might.
But age caught up with the man that no other force could stop. Surrounded by his family and a trusted circle of friends, most oft hem powerful heroes in their own right, he had quietly passed away after a short skirmish with pneumonia. Such a mundane end for such an extraordinary person.
The Heroes‘ Union was in panic mode. They knew, without him, they might not be powerful enough to continue to guarantee peace and freedom to a world where so many chaotic or evil beings with such a wide array of greater and lesser powers lurked in their cellars and laboratories, just waiting for the opportunest moment to unveil their villainous plans. Arrangements had to be made. No later than during the funeral, attended by hundreds of heroes, dozens of heads of state and thousands of civilians, they tried to come up with countermeasures of what they were supposed to do. They knew they had to be prepared. They needed plans for when their archrivals, their polar opposites, their nemesises came.
And then they came. All of them.
In silence, one by one, they walked into the gigantic cathedral, heads lowered. The Grave Digger shuffled to the open casket first, took one last look at the man who had foiled his plans no less than seventeen times, before lowering his grey capes‘ hood to sit down in one of the front rows. Doctor Disaster, Manyra Meddler, the Reaper, the Flame Juggler, Lava Lord, Gurara the Earthquake, Squieker the Rat, Don Carlo Ferrara, Ben Black Hole, villains weak and powerful, big and small, they all came here to pay their last respects to their greatest foil. All oft hem had fought battles with the Warden, had lost money or power, friends or allies, had spent years in prison or exile because of him. And yet they all knew what the world owed this person, this larger-than-life being of stupendous power and benevolence. Since long before his death, people all over the world had feared what a day this earth would see the moment that man would be gone.
It was the most peaceful day in living memory.
| “I was sixteen when I first saw you on television. My mom and I lived in a one room apartment and we had just hooked up the television I “saved up for.” My dad, who knew where he was. Didn’t bother me much at that point. Needless to say my life was just... it just **was**. There was nothing. My life was as deprived of meaning, of purpose, as my mother’s life was now deprived of marriage.
When I was in my mid-twenties, I had the displeasure of ending my long-term relationship at the time. I won’t bore you with the details but needless to say we’re both better for it. In fact, we still keep in touch and we’re meeting for coffee next week.
When my mom died a couple years later. Well, that was one of my lowest points. I know you wouldn’t believe me, but you’re presence in my life, how frustrating it may have been regarding my ambitions- it helped. It really did.
My life has been tumultuous to say the least. Living the life of a so-called “Eco Terrorist doesn’t exactly yield stability. I may not have had the chance to ever call you friend, but in another life, under different circumstances, who knows? What I do know is that you were a constant in my life, and sometimes that is rare to come by.
So thank you.
Sincerely,
A friend”
——————-
Not sure if this is any good. The idea came randomly. Hope you like it. | |
[WP] The world's greatest superhero has passed away. As the world braces itself for a crime spree, they are instead met with villains paying their respects to a fallen foe. | “'Everybody deserves to live,' huh?”
A part of me is almost expecting you to adopt that silly, infuriating grin of yours in response. Instead it remains set, neutral, lifeless. It's unsettling. Whenever you were caught in a foolproof trap that proved to be anything but, you smiled. Whenever you stood victorious, the remains of weeks, months, or even years of hard work and planning laying in ruins around us, you smiled. Yes, every time you went about systematically ruining my plans – *our* plans – to take over the world, over and over again, you smiled.
We hated that smile. We hated you. We wanted you dead.
We just never thought it'd actually happen.
To the people of Earth you were more than the greatest superhero ever, you were a symbol of justice itself. Like Lady Liberty, only on a global scale (and in the form of an actual living being). For us villains, however, you were a symbol of injustice. Oppression. An omnipresent God of vengeance, out spoiling our fun, ruining our plans, keeping us from reaching our fullest potential. All with that damned smile.
The worst part is that it would've been so easy for you to put an end to it anytime. You were stronger than any one of us individually, and even when we teamed up to even the odds you'd still somehow found a way to win. Time after time, year after year, failure after failure, you stood there victoriously, smiling down on our defeated, often unconscious forms. Time after time you'd pick us up and deliver us to the nearest prison, even though everyone knew we could, and would, escape. And time after time you made sure it was known, under no uncertain terms, that undue harm was to come to nobody within those prison walls. Including us.
And that's what we hated most about you, you damned, smiling caricature of a goody-two-shoes. You were such a good person, such a symbol of “justice” that you couldn't bring yourself to make an exception, no matter what. The populace denounced your compassion more than once, demanding to know why criminals – murderers – deserved to live after the innocent died. Your answer was always the same- that same damn smile, that same damn line.
“Everybody deserves to live.”
You said that you promised someone, long ago, that you wouldn't kill, and you damn well made sure that you never did. Such a stupid code of honor I swear, but you held onto it to the bitter end. If you could save a life, any life, you did. No semantics, no excuses. Even during the times we tried everything in our power to convince you to kill somebody, *anybody*, ***even us***, you never once faltered. A true beacon of life.
And now you're dead. Not by my hands, not by anybody's hands. Even in your final days, long after your once iconic hair had grayed, none of us could defeat you in battle. You never lost to us, to our predecessors, even to their predecessors before them. You probably would not have even died to our successors even if you had to carry an oxygen tank around with you in one hand and an IV in the other. The only one you couldn't defeat was Father Time, and even then I can't help but feel that he had to wait until you were good and ready.
I can feel your successor's gaze burning a hole in the back of my head. He isn't making a move though; none of the superheroes are. They understand why we're here. They know if they freak out it'd cause undue panic in the rest of the attendees. Sure it's not beneath some of us to cause havoc at a mass memorial service – I know I've crashed more than one funeral, sometimes more literally than others – but not today. Not yours. No, today we pay our respects to you. Our greatest foe.
The greatest hero, now and forever. | Without a sound, the elevator doors parted to reveal the large warehouse. Usually vibrant, the cold silence felt almost soothing. Abandoned workstations littered the whole floor making for a calming, if somewhat eerie scene. She sighed heavily, which, to her surprise, manifested as a cloud of vapor. She frowned, finally taking notice of the cold and walking over to grab her coat.
"What are you doing here K," She said without turning to address the woman sitting at her desk,
"Figured I would catch up on some work," K answered, pushing her snowboarding goggles up to her forehead, "Turns out I was **way** more behind than I thought I was."
"You hardly show up on workdays and now I'm supposed to believe you're working on a holiday?" She scoffed and pulled the thick jacked closer to herself, shivering slightly, "Leave it to you to miss something this big,"
K looked up at her for a second, then looked away and pulled the goggles down over her eyes again.
"No, I," K cleared her throat slightly, "I heard,"
"Then what are you waiting for," She grumbled, having sat down at an adjacent desk, furiously sorting through documents. "It's a holiday, remember, you don't have to be here, just go home."
"Jess, C'mon," K said as softly as she could, "I was just-"
"Shut up!" Jess shouted, breaking the desk in half and sending papers flying as she brought her fists down onto it, "Just, shut up, okay? I don't need to hear it."
K sat in silence for a while, watching her, before finally removing her goggles,
"Here," She said, holding out the goggles for Jess to take, "I'm sorry about your dad,"
For a second she just stared back at her, before grabbing the goggles and placing them over her eyes. And K just sat there, trying her best not to look at the tears streaming down exposed cheeks.
| |
[WP] The world's greatest superhero has passed away. As the world braces itself for a crime spree, they are instead met with villains paying their respects to a fallen foe. | He had been the greatest.
Gregory Willoughby, better known as the Warden had protected the earth and ist citizens for more than 50 years, always vigilant, unrelenting, steadfast.
Countless villains had made great plans to conquer this country or that continent, some had had even greater plans designed to take over the world. As head oft he Heroes‘ Union, the Warden, sometimes with other heroes‘ help, often on his own, had foiled all those plans, had won all his battles.
Yet there was one battle he could not win: The one against time. For more than 50 years, he had been the primary force of good in the world, when push came to shove, no villainous force, no grandious scheme, no powerful alliance of evil could stand up to the Warden. He was always there and for all that time it seemed like he would always be. Even when his hair had grayed and his features had wrinkled he never had seemed to lose even an iota of his sheer endless might.
But age caught up with the man that no other force could stop. Surrounded by his family and a trusted circle of friends, most oft hem powerful heroes in their own right, he had quietly passed away after a short skirmish with pneumonia. Such a mundane end for such an extraordinary person.
The Heroes‘ Union was in panic mode. They knew, without him, they might not be powerful enough to continue to guarantee peace and freedom to a world where so many chaotic or evil beings with such a wide array of greater and lesser powers lurked in their cellars and laboratories, just waiting for the opportunest moment to unveil their villainous plans. Arrangements had to be made. No later than during the funeral, attended by hundreds of heroes, dozens of heads of state and thousands of civilians, they tried to come up with countermeasures of what they were supposed to do. They knew they had to be prepared. They needed plans for when their archrivals, their polar opposites, their nemesises came.
And then they came. All of them.
In silence, one by one, they walked into the gigantic cathedral, heads lowered. The Grave Digger shuffled to the open casket first, took one last look at the man who had foiled his plans no less than seventeen times, before lowering his grey capes‘ hood to sit down in one of the front rows. Doctor Disaster, Manyra Meddler, the Reaper, the Flame Juggler, Lava Lord, Gurara the Earthquake, Squieker the Rat, Don Carlo Ferrara, Ben Black Hole, villains weak and powerful, big and small, they all came here to pay their last respects to their greatest foil. All oft hem had fought battles with the Warden, had lost money or power, friends or allies, had spent years in prison or exile because of him. And yet they all knew what the world owed this person, this larger-than-life being of stupendous power and benevolence. Since long before his death, people all over the world had feared what a day this earth would see the moment that man would be gone.
It was the most peaceful day in living memory.
| Without a sound, the elevator doors parted to reveal the large warehouse. Usually vibrant, the cold silence felt almost soothing. Abandoned workstations littered the whole floor making for a calming, if somewhat eerie scene. She sighed heavily, which, to her surprise, manifested as a cloud of vapor. She frowned, finally taking notice of the cold and walking over to grab her coat.
"What are you doing here K," She said without turning to address the woman sitting at her desk,
"Figured I would catch up on some work," K answered, pushing her snowboarding goggles up to her forehead, "Turns out I was **way** more behind than I thought I was."
"You hardly show up on workdays and now I'm supposed to believe you're working on a holiday?" She scoffed and pulled the thick jacked closer to herself, shivering slightly, "Leave it to you to miss something this big,"
K looked up at her for a second, then looked away and pulled the goggles down over her eyes again.
"No, I," K cleared her throat slightly, "I heard,"
"Then what are you waiting for," She grumbled, having sat down at an adjacent desk, furiously sorting through documents. "It's a holiday, remember, you don't have to be here, just go home."
"Jess, C'mon," K said as softly as she could, "I was just-"
"Shut up!" Jess shouted, breaking the desk in half and sending papers flying as she brought her fists down onto it, "Just, shut up, okay? I don't need to hear it."
K sat in silence for a while, watching her, before finally removing her goggles,
"Here," She said, holding out the goggles for Jess to take, "I'm sorry about your dad,"
For a second she just stared back at her, before grabbing the goggles and placing them over her eyes. And K just sat there, trying her best not to look at the tears streaming down exposed cheeks.
| |
[WP] The world's greatest superhero has passed away. As the world braces itself for a crime spree, they are instead met with villains paying their respects to a fallen foe. | “What the hell are they doing here?” Starboy hissed into the ear of Nova Girl who turned to follow her partner’s gaze. The Terrible Trio has entered the cathedral and made their way down the aisle. The Ignoble Knight wore black enabled armour for the occasion that clanked and clanged. Walking on all four beside him, Betty the Beast looked surprisingly put together for a woman with a permanent werewolf condition. Her mane of chocolate brown hair had been combed back into a black bow far down her back. The Wizard of the Deep floated beside them in a suspended ball of water that dripped on the carpet. A piece of paper printed with “Villains’ Seating” in comic sans was taped to the front-most pew on the other side of the isle. There the Terrible Trio joined the villains’ gallery of Captain Solar.
“You know it was in his will that they be invited,” Nova Girl replied telepathically.
“Yeah, but Wizard? Seriously? That guy is a c-list at best. Hell, I defeated him more times than I can remember.
Nova Girl rolled her eyes. “His will said to invite everyone that he has every fought - that includes Wizard. I’m pretty sure that even Killer Mime is here.” The two turned around again and indeed saw the Killer Mime himself making frowny faces with drawn on tears.
“Jesus, this is embarrassing.” Starboy sunk down further in the pew to play Clash of Clans on his phone until a low rumbling from Linda Liberty signaled the start of the service.
She was the largest super-whatever in the room by a wide margin and had to crawl into the cathedral on her hands and knees. Standing at the pulpit, the green woman towered over the entire congregation. Her perpetually lit torch cast shadows wildly. Starboy always wondered how her and Solar...you know, but always regretted it when he thought about the mechanics of it too much.
“Thank you all for coming,” she thundered from overhead like a loudspeaker.
“Captain Solar was something to all of us. A hero,” she looked over the gathered superheroes and civilians on the left. “A foe,” she gazed darkly to the right at the gathered villains and their motley assortment of henchmen. “But to me, he was a husband.” Her voice shook ever so slightly and a raindrop the size of a softball crashed to the floor splashing on the robs of a deeply terrified priest.
“We had talked about the end. We assumed that it would perhaps be at the hands of one of you.” Her hand swept to the right. “But, none of you were up to the task. Seems poetic that the strongest man in the universe was undone by heavy snow and a long driveway.
Nova Girl’s voice intruded Starboy’s head: “That lifetime supply of Twinkies that Hostess gave him with for catching the Sugar Gang sure didn’t help.”
The snort from Starboy echoed across the cathedral. Under the crown Linda glowered deeply down at him briefly, but continued.
“Now, if any of you have any words, please come up front we would love to hear them.”
She strode to the other side of the cathedral, revealing a closed coffin that had been hidden by her mass. A picture of Captain Solar’s smiling brightly was propped in an easel beside it. It was clearly from twenty years ago at least, well before the super hero gained his super waist.
Hero after hero, villain after villain, they all came to give their respects to the fallen superhero or superfoe depending on what side in the cathedral you were sitting. The Ravenous Radish gave a particularly fervent speech on the importance of fiber in a balanced diet. However, speeches came to an abrupt end when Wizard of the Deep ended up shorting out the audio system. Starboy thought it was Wizard’s biggest achievement to date.
As the crowd made their way to the reception, Starboy felt a tap on his shoulder. He turned to find Detective Magnifier with a phone in his outstretched hand. “It’s Doctor Apocalypse, Starboy. He’s asking for you.”
The arch villain of Captain Solar, the good Doctor had famously broken the Captain’s back twenty years ago and remained dangerous. This was the big time; his big break. Starboy swallowed dryly and held the phone to his head, aware of Nova Girl’s presence listening in his mind.
“So, the boy becomes a man now that daddy’s gone eh?” said a raspy voice on the other end.
“He wasn’t my father, Apocalypse. He was a teammate,” replied Starboy in his deepest hero voice.
“Wait,” the voice sounding normal. “This isn’t Boy Saturn?”
“No, it’s Starboy.”
“God damnit, I always mix you guys up. Give me the Mags again.” Starboy began to hand the waiting detective the phone but heard Doctor Apocalypse's voice again: “Wait!”
“What?”
“Sorry for your loss.”
“Thanks…” Starboy finally handed the detective the phone and Nova Girl’s giggling rung in his head. The boy star went to fill up on funeral brownies. | Without a sound, the elevator doors parted to reveal the large warehouse. Usually vibrant, the cold silence felt almost soothing. Abandoned workstations littered the whole floor making for a calming, if somewhat eerie scene. She sighed heavily, which, to her surprise, manifested as a cloud of vapor. She frowned, finally taking notice of the cold and walking over to grab her coat.
"What are you doing here K," She said without turning to address the woman sitting at her desk,
"Figured I would catch up on some work," K answered, pushing her snowboarding goggles up to her forehead, "Turns out I was **way** more behind than I thought I was."
"You hardly show up on workdays and now I'm supposed to believe you're working on a holiday?" She scoffed and pulled the thick jacked closer to herself, shivering slightly, "Leave it to you to miss something this big,"
K looked up at her for a second, then looked away and pulled the goggles down over her eyes again.
"No, I," K cleared her throat slightly, "I heard,"
"Then what are you waiting for," She grumbled, having sat down at an adjacent desk, furiously sorting through documents. "It's a holiday, remember, you don't have to be here, just go home."
"Jess, C'mon," K said as softly as she could, "I was just-"
"Shut up!" Jess shouted, breaking the desk in half and sending papers flying as she brought her fists down onto it, "Just, shut up, okay? I don't need to hear it."
K sat in silence for a while, watching her, before finally removing her goggles,
"Here," She said, holding out the goggles for Jess to take, "I'm sorry about your dad,"
For a second she just stared back at her, before grabbing the goggles and placing them over her eyes. And K just sat there, trying her best not to look at the tears streaming down exposed cheeks.
| |
[WP] The world's greatest superhero has passed away. As the world braces itself for a crime spree, they are instead met with villains paying their respects to a fallen foe. | The fall of Titan was thought to be impossible. The being who had risen up from the depths of the Earth itself, he couldn't really be gone, could he? Where do we even begin to ponder the implications of such a loss? His passing will be discussed and argued over for the coming millennia, by philosophers as of yet unborn, and a meaning will attempt to be found. This discussion, however, means little to us still living on this rock.
When word quickly spread of Titan's fate, there was a moment of silence. Not explicitly for the hero, but as a calm before what was believed to be an impending storm. Who would there be now to keep the devils at bay? An obvious question with a chillingly obvious answer: no one.
What happened instead took away almost as much breath as the news of the hero's passing itself. Kai Foss The World-Ender arrived on Earth shortly after the news of Titan's passing broke, and the people of Earth immediately bent their knees to the conqueror. But conquest was not Kai Foss' goal on this day.
He had always questioned what made the Earth worthy of such resolute and unyielding protection. It was something he had not understood until this day. The planet was now his, if he so chose. He had fought legendary, cataclysmic battles against Titan for this prize. Instead, without a word, Kai Foss walked to where Titan lay, and laid a hand gently on the hero of the Earth. "I understand," he whispered.
Kai Foss The World-Ender left as quietly as he had arrived, and was never heard from again. | Without a sound, the elevator doors parted to reveal the large warehouse. Usually vibrant, the cold silence felt almost soothing. Abandoned workstations littered the whole floor making for a calming, if somewhat eerie scene. She sighed heavily, which, to her surprise, manifested as a cloud of vapor. She frowned, finally taking notice of the cold and walking over to grab her coat.
"What are you doing here K," She said without turning to address the woman sitting at her desk,
"Figured I would catch up on some work," K answered, pushing her snowboarding goggles up to her forehead, "Turns out I was **way** more behind than I thought I was."
"You hardly show up on workdays and now I'm supposed to believe you're working on a holiday?" She scoffed and pulled the thick jacked closer to herself, shivering slightly, "Leave it to you to miss something this big,"
K looked up at her for a second, then looked away and pulled the goggles down over her eyes again.
"No, I," K cleared her throat slightly, "I heard,"
"Then what are you waiting for," She grumbled, having sat down at an adjacent desk, furiously sorting through documents. "It's a holiday, remember, you don't have to be here, just go home."
"Jess, C'mon," K said as softly as she could, "I was just-"
"Shut up!" Jess shouted, breaking the desk in half and sending papers flying as she brought her fists down onto it, "Just, shut up, okay? I don't need to hear it."
K sat in silence for a while, watching her, before finally removing her goggles,
"Here," She said, holding out the goggles for Jess to take, "I'm sorry about your dad,"
For a second she just stared back at her, before grabbing the goggles and placing them over her eyes. And K just sat there, trying her best not to look at the tears streaming down exposed cheeks.
| |
[WP] The world's greatest superhero has passed away. As the world braces itself for a crime spree, they are instead met with villains paying their respects to a fallen foe. | He had been the greatest.
Gregory Willoughby, better known as the Warden had protected the earth and ist citizens for more than 50 years, always vigilant, unrelenting, steadfast.
Countless villains had made great plans to conquer this country or that continent, some had had even greater plans designed to take over the world. As head oft he Heroes‘ Union, the Warden, sometimes with other heroes‘ help, often on his own, had foiled all those plans, had won all his battles.
Yet there was one battle he could not win: The one against time. For more than 50 years, he had been the primary force of good in the world, when push came to shove, no villainous force, no grandious scheme, no powerful alliance of evil could stand up to the Warden. He was always there and for all that time it seemed like he would always be. Even when his hair had grayed and his features had wrinkled he never had seemed to lose even an iota of his sheer endless might.
But age caught up with the man that no other force could stop. Surrounded by his family and a trusted circle of friends, most oft hem powerful heroes in their own right, he had quietly passed away after a short skirmish with pneumonia. Such a mundane end for such an extraordinary person.
The Heroes‘ Union was in panic mode. They knew, without him, they might not be powerful enough to continue to guarantee peace and freedom to a world where so many chaotic or evil beings with such a wide array of greater and lesser powers lurked in their cellars and laboratories, just waiting for the opportunest moment to unveil their villainous plans. Arrangements had to be made. No later than during the funeral, attended by hundreds of heroes, dozens of heads of state and thousands of civilians, they tried to come up with countermeasures of what they were supposed to do. They knew they had to be prepared. They needed plans for when their archrivals, their polar opposites, their nemesises came.
And then they came. All of them.
In silence, one by one, they walked into the gigantic cathedral, heads lowered. The Grave Digger shuffled to the open casket first, took one last look at the man who had foiled his plans no less than seventeen times, before lowering his grey capes‘ hood to sit down in one of the front rows. Doctor Disaster, Manyra Meddler, the Reaper, the Flame Juggler, Lava Lord, Gurara the Earthquake, Squieker the Rat, Don Carlo Ferrara, Ben Black Hole, villains weak and powerful, big and small, they all came here to pay their last respects to their greatest foil. All oft hem had fought battles with the Warden, had lost money or power, friends or allies, had spent years in prison or exile because of him. And yet they all knew what the world owed this person, this larger-than-life being of stupendous power and benevolence. Since long before his death, people all over the world had feared what a day this earth would see the moment that man would be gone.
It was the most peaceful day in living memory.
| “'Everybody deserves to live,' huh?”
A part of me is almost expecting you to adopt that silly, infuriating grin of yours in response. Instead it remains set, neutral, lifeless. It's unsettling. Whenever you were caught in a foolproof trap that proved to be anything but, you smiled. Whenever you stood victorious, the remains of weeks, months, or even years of hard work and planning laying in ruins around us, you smiled. Yes, every time you went about systematically ruining my plans – *our* plans – to take over the world, over and over again, you smiled.
We hated that smile. We hated you. We wanted you dead.
We just never thought it'd actually happen.
To the people of Earth you were more than the greatest superhero ever, you were a symbol of justice itself. Like Lady Liberty, only on a global scale (and in the form of an actual living being). For us villains, however, you were a symbol of injustice. Oppression. An omnipresent God of vengeance, out spoiling our fun, ruining our plans, keeping us from reaching our fullest potential. All with that damned smile.
The worst part is that it would've been so easy for you to put an end to it anytime. You were stronger than any one of us individually, and even when we teamed up to even the odds you'd still somehow found a way to win. Time after time, year after year, failure after failure, you stood there victoriously, smiling down on our defeated, often unconscious forms. Time after time you'd pick us up and deliver us to the nearest prison, even though everyone knew we could, and would, escape. And time after time you made sure it was known, under no uncertain terms, that undue harm was to come to nobody within those prison walls. Including us.
And that's what we hated most about you, you damned, smiling caricature of a goody-two-shoes. You were such a good person, such a symbol of “justice” that you couldn't bring yourself to make an exception, no matter what. The populace denounced your compassion more than once, demanding to know why criminals – murderers – deserved to live after the innocent died. Your answer was always the same- that same damn smile, that same damn line.
“Everybody deserves to live.”
You said that you promised someone, long ago, that you wouldn't kill, and you damn well made sure that you never did. Such a stupid code of honor I swear, but you held onto it to the bitter end. If you could save a life, any life, you did. No semantics, no excuses. Even during the times we tried everything in our power to convince you to kill somebody, *anybody*, ***even us***, you never once faltered. A true beacon of life.
And now you're dead. Not by my hands, not by anybody's hands. Even in your final days, long after your once iconic hair had grayed, none of us could defeat you in battle. You never lost to us, to our predecessors, even to their predecessors before them. You probably would not have even died to our successors even if you had to carry an oxygen tank around with you in one hand and an IV in the other. The only one you couldn't defeat was Father Time, and even then I can't help but feel that he had to wait until you were good and ready.
I can feel your successor's gaze burning a hole in the back of my head. He isn't making a move though; none of the superheroes are. They understand why we're here. They know if they freak out it'd cause undue panic in the rest of the attendees. Sure it's not beneath some of us to cause havoc at a mass memorial service – I know I've crashed more than one funeral, sometimes more literally than others – but not today. Not yours. No, today we pay our respects to you. Our greatest foe.
The greatest hero, now and forever. | |
[WP] The world's greatest superhero has passed away. As the world braces itself for a crime spree, they are instead met with villains paying their respects to a fallen foe. | “What the hell are they doing here?” Starboy hissed into the ear of Nova Girl who turned to follow her partner’s gaze. The Terrible Trio has entered the cathedral and made their way down the aisle. The Ignoble Knight wore black enabled armour for the occasion that clanked and clanged. Walking on all four beside him, Betty the Beast looked surprisingly put together for a woman with a permanent werewolf condition. Her mane of chocolate brown hair had been combed back into a black bow far down her back. The Wizard of the Deep floated beside them in a suspended ball of water that dripped on the carpet. A piece of paper printed with “Villains’ Seating” in comic sans was taped to the front-most pew on the other side of the isle. There the Terrible Trio joined the villains’ gallery of Captain Solar.
“You know it was in his will that they be invited,” Nova Girl replied telepathically.
“Yeah, but Wizard? Seriously? That guy is a c-list at best. Hell, I defeated him more times than I can remember.
Nova Girl rolled her eyes. “His will said to invite everyone that he has every fought - that includes Wizard. I’m pretty sure that even Killer Mime is here.” The two turned around again and indeed saw the Killer Mime himself making frowny faces with drawn on tears.
“Jesus, this is embarrassing.” Starboy sunk down further in the pew to play Clash of Clans on his phone until a low rumbling from Linda Liberty signaled the start of the service.
She was the largest super-whatever in the room by a wide margin and had to crawl into the cathedral on her hands and knees. Standing at the pulpit, the green woman towered over the entire congregation. Her perpetually lit torch cast shadows wildly. Starboy always wondered how her and Solar...you know, but always regretted it when he thought about the mechanics of it too much.
“Thank you all for coming,” she thundered from overhead like a loudspeaker.
“Captain Solar was something to all of us. A hero,” she looked over the gathered superheroes and civilians on the left. “A foe,” she gazed darkly to the right at the gathered villains and their motley assortment of henchmen. “But to me, he was a husband.” Her voice shook ever so slightly and a raindrop the size of a softball crashed to the floor splashing on the robs of a deeply terrified priest.
“We had talked about the end. We assumed that it would perhaps be at the hands of one of you.” Her hand swept to the right. “But, none of you were up to the task. Seems poetic that the strongest man in the universe was undone by heavy snow and a long driveway.
Nova Girl’s voice intruded Starboy’s head: “That lifetime supply of Twinkies that Hostess gave him with for catching the Sugar Gang sure didn’t help.”
The snort from Starboy echoed across the cathedral. Under the crown Linda glowered deeply down at him briefly, but continued.
“Now, if any of you have any words, please come up front we would love to hear them.”
She strode to the other side of the cathedral, revealing a closed coffin that had been hidden by her mass. A picture of Captain Solar’s smiling brightly was propped in an easel beside it. It was clearly from twenty years ago at least, well before the super hero gained his super waist.
Hero after hero, villain after villain, they all came to give their respects to the fallen superhero or superfoe depending on what side in the cathedral you were sitting. The Ravenous Radish gave a particularly fervent speech on the importance of fiber in a balanced diet. However, speeches came to an abrupt end when Wizard of the Deep ended up shorting out the audio system. Starboy thought it was Wizard’s biggest achievement to date.
As the crowd made their way to the reception, Starboy felt a tap on his shoulder. He turned to find Detective Magnifier with a phone in his outstretched hand. “It’s Doctor Apocalypse, Starboy. He’s asking for you.”
The arch villain of Captain Solar, the good Doctor had famously broken the Captain’s back twenty years ago and remained dangerous. This was the big time; his big break. Starboy swallowed dryly and held the phone to his head, aware of Nova Girl’s presence listening in his mind.
“So, the boy becomes a man now that daddy’s gone eh?” said a raspy voice on the other end.
“He wasn’t my father, Apocalypse. He was a teammate,” replied Starboy in his deepest hero voice.
“Wait,” the voice sounding normal. “This isn’t Boy Saturn?”
“No, it’s Starboy.”
“God damnit, I always mix you guys up. Give me the Mags again.” Starboy began to hand the waiting detective the phone but heard Doctor Apocalypse's voice again: “Wait!”
“What?”
“Sorry for your loss.”
“Thanks…” Starboy finally handed the detective the phone and Nova Girl’s giggling rung in his head. The boy star went to fill up on funeral brownies. | It's kind of messed up that he died the way he did. He stopped every evil scheme and he saved millions of lives. He truly lived up to the figure society pinned him as. He was the best of the best. The one kids wanted to be when they grow up. But he was still human. He had feelings and emotions like sympathy and comparison and weaknesses. Weaknesses all humans have. Things out of there control. He died from leg cancer. People cried in all city's. A moment of silence fell across nations. Many learned grief had a color that day. It's a grey with light blue. It's dull and depressing. People cried like no tomorrow. They said it couldn't be he was to strong he should have fought it. I think he did it to save us. People thought villian's would soon take over the world.
Even they cried. They hid away from the world and cried and grieved over him more than anyone else. They new him best after all. They knew his strengths and weaknesses. He completed them and now he was gone. He was the other half of them. They were pinned by society as the bad guys and stripped of there human quality's. Seen only as monsters. He was the slayer of the monster. The good guy. He felt for them as he to had been stripped of his human. They wanted anything for the world to listen to them and treat them Happy. Instead society chewed them up and spit them out. They filled them with hate and then cry out because they took action against society. Society was the real villian that just plaid the victim. The heros and villains complete each other as they allowed one another to complete the roll society put on them. He Brooke the cycle and made himself fall to human weaknesses. They to became more human in time. They soon pit flowers on his grave. Many were shocked at this but they didn't care. They lost a friend they knew was a friend.
They were human again and they soon would be heros. Not super heroes. No they were individuals who were not what society pinned them as. They were the extrodinarly ordinary. They were humans.
| |
[WP] The world's greatest superhero has passed away. As the world braces itself for a crime spree, they are instead met with villains paying their respects to a fallen foe. | The fall of Titan was thought to be impossible. The being who had risen up from the depths of the Earth itself, he couldn't really be gone, could he? Where do we even begin to ponder the implications of such a loss? His passing will be discussed and argued over for the coming millennia, by philosophers as of yet unborn, and a meaning will attempt to be found. This discussion, however, means little to us still living on this rock.
When word quickly spread of Titan's fate, there was a moment of silence. Not explicitly for the hero, but as a calm before what was believed to be an impending storm. Who would there be now to keep the devils at bay? An obvious question with a chillingly obvious answer: no one.
What happened instead took away almost as much breath as the news of the hero's passing itself. Kai Foss The World-Ender arrived on Earth shortly after the news of Titan's passing broke, and the people of Earth immediately bent their knees to the conqueror. But conquest was not Kai Foss' goal on this day.
He had always questioned what made the Earth worthy of such resolute and unyielding protection. It was something he had not understood until this day. The planet was now his, if he so chose. He had fought legendary, cataclysmic battles against Titan for this prize. Instead, without a word, Kai Foss walked to where Titan lay, and laid a hand gently on the hero of the Earth. "I understand," he whispered.
Kai Foss The World-Ender left as quietly as he had arrived, and was never heard from again. | It's kind of messed up that he died the way he did. He stopped every evil scheme and he saved millions of lives. He truly lived up to the figure society pinned him as. He was the best of the best. The one kids wanted to be when they grow up. But he was still human. He had feelings and emotions like sympathy and comparison and weaknesses. Weaknesses all humans have. Things out of there control. He died from leg cancer. People cried in all city's. A moment of silence fell across nations. Many learned grief had a color that day. It's a grey with light blue. It's dull and depressing. People cried like no tomorrow. They said it couldn't be he was to strong he should have fought it. I think he did it to save us. People thought villian's would soon take over the world.
Even they cried. They hid away from the world and cried and grieved over him more than anyone else. They new him best after all. They knew his strengths and weaknesses. He completed them and now he was gone. He was the other half of them. They were pinned by society as the bad guys and stripped of there human quality's. Seen only as monsters. He was the slayer of the monster. The good guy. He felt for them as he to had been stripped of his human. They wanted anything for the world to listen to them and treat them Happy. Instead society chewed them up and spit them out. They filled them with hate and then cry out because they took action against society. Society was the real villian that just plaid the victim. The heros and villains complete each other as they allowed one another to complete the roll society put on them. He Brooke the cycle and made himself fall to human weaknesses. They to became more human in time. They soon pit flowers on his grave. Many were shocked at this but they didn't care. They lost a friend they knew was a friend.
They were human again and they soon would be heros. Not super heroes. No they were individuals who were not what society pinned them as. They were the extrodinarly ordinary. They were humans.
| |
[WP] The world's greatest superhero has passed away. As the world braces itself for a crime spree, they are instead met with villains paying their respects to a fallen foe. | The fall of Titan was thought to be impossible. The being who had risen up from the depths of the Earth itself, he couldn't really be gone, could he? Where do we even begin to ponder the implications of such a loss? His passing will be discussed and argued over for the coming millennia, by philosophers as of yet unborn, and a meaning will attempt to be found. This discussion, however, means little to us still living on this rock.
When word quickly spread of Titan's fate, there was a moment of silence. Not explicitly for the hero, but as a calm before what was believed to be an impending storm. Who would there be now to keep the devils at bay? An obvious question with a chillingly obvious answer: no one.
What happened instead took away almost as much breath as the news of the hero's passing itself. Kai Foss The World-Ender arrived on Earth shortly after the news of Titan's passing broke, and the people of Earth immediately bent their knees to the conqueror. But conquest was not Kai Foss' goal on this day.
He had always questioned what made the Earth worthy of such resolute and unyielding protection. It was something he had not understood until this day. The planet was now his, if he so chose. He had fought legendary, cataclysmic battles against Titan for this prize. Instead, without a word, Kai Foss walked to where Titan lay, and laid a hand gently on the hero of the Earth. "I understand," he whispered.
Kai Foss The World-Ender left as quietly as he had arrived, and was never heard from again. | “What the hell are they doing here?” Starboy hissed into the ear of Nova Girl who turned to follow her partner’s gaze. The Terrible Trio has entered the cathedral and made their way down the aisle. The Ignoble Knight wore black enabled armour for the occasion that clanked and clanged. Walking on all four beside him, Betty the Beast looked surprisingly put together for a woman with a permanent werewolf condition. Her mane of chocolate brown hair had been combed back into a black bow far down her back. The Wizard of the Deep floated beside them in a suspended ball of water that dripped on the carpet. A piece of paper printed with “Villains’ Seating” in comic sans was taped to the front-most pew on the other side of the isle. There the Terrible Trio joined the villains’ gallery of Captain Solar.
“You know it was in his will that they be invited,” Nova Girl replied telepathically.
“Yeah, but Wizard? Seriously? That guy is a c-list at best. Hell, I defeated him more times than I can remember.
Nova Girl rolled her eyes. “His will said to invite everyone that he has every fought - that includes Wizard. I’m pretty sure that even Killer Mime is here.” The two turned around again and indeed saw the Killer Mime himself making frowny faces with drawn on tears.
“Jesus, this is embarrassing.” Starboy sunk down further in the pew to play Clash of Clans on his phone until a low rumbling from Linda Liberty signaled the start of the service.
She was the largest super-whatever in the room by a wide margin and had to crawl into the cathedral on her hands and knees. Standing at the pulpit, the green woman towered over the entire congregation. Her perpetually lit torch cast shadows wildly. Starboy always wondered how her and Solar...you know, but always regretted it when he thought about the mechanics of it too much.
“Thank you all for coming,” she thundered from overhead like a loudspeaker.
“Captain Solar was something to all of us. A hero,” she looked over the gathered superheroes and civilians on the left. “A foe,” she gazed darkly to the right at the gathered villains and their motley assortment of henchmen. “But to me, he was a husband.” Her voice shook ever so slightly and a raindrop the size of a softball crashed to the floor splashing on the robs of a deeply terrified priest.
“We had talked about the end. We assumed that it would perhaps be at the hands of one of you.” Her hand swept to the right. “But, none of you were up to the task. Seems poetic that the strongest man in the universe was undone by heavy snow and a long driveway.
Nova Girl’s voice intruded Starboy’s head: “That lifetime supply of Twinkies that Hostess gave him with for catching the Sugar Gang sure didn’t help.”
The snort from Starboy echoed across the cathedral. Under the crown Linda glowered deeply down at him briefly, but continued.
“Now, if any of you have any words, please come up front we would love to hear them.”
She strode to the other side of the cathedral, revealing a closed coffin that had been hidden by her mass. A picture of Captain Solar’s smiling brightly was propped in an easel beside it. It was clearly from twenty years ago at least, well before the super hero gained his super waist.
Hero after hero, villain after villain, they all came to give their respects to the fallen superhero or superfoe depending on what side in the cathedral you were sitting. The Ravenous Radish gave a particularly fervent speech on the importance of fiber in a balanced diet. However, speeches came to an abrupt end when Wizard of the Deep ended up shorting out the audio system. Starboy thought it was Wizard’s biggest achievement to date.
As the crowd made their way to the reception, Starboy felt a tap on his shoulder. He turned to find Detective Magnifier with a phone in his outstretched hand. “It’s Doctor Apocalypse, Starboy. He’s asking for you.”
The arch villain of Captain Solar, the good Doctor had famously broken the Captain’s back twenty years ago and remained dangerous. This was the big time; his big break. Starboy swallowed dryly and held the phone to his head, aware of Nova Girl’s presence listening in his mind.
“So, the boy becomes a man now that daddy’s gone eh?” said a raspy voice on the other end.
“He wasn’t my father, Apocalypse. He was a teammate,” replied Starboy in his deepest hero voice.
“Wait,” the voice sounding normal. “This isn’t Boy Saturn?”
“No, it’s Starboy.”
“God damnit, I always mix you guys up. Give me the Mags again.” Starboy began to hand the waiting detective the phone but heard Doctor Apocalypse's voice again: “Wait!”
“What?”
“Sorry for your loss.”
“Thanks…” Starboy finally handed the detective the phone and Nova Girl’s giggling rung in his head. The boy star went to fill up on funeral brownies. | |
[WP] After years of gentle persuasion your best friend since childhood finally agrees to seek professional help for serious mental problems. Much to your dismay, as she slowly begins to improve you realize you are her imaginary friend. | I'LL BE WAITING BY THE OLD BEECH
I practically leapt out of my chair when Penny asked me to join her on a trip out to the countryside on a balmy sunday afternoon. She's the best, and I was happy to know that she still wanted to spend time with me, even though she'd yelled at me only a few days earlier.. You see, Penny hadn't been doing too well lately. She'd been really sad and distant. No matter what I'd done to try to comfort her, it made no difference.
To be honest, Penny had always been kind of sad. Even when we were little she would sometimes cry herself to sleep, and she wouldn't call mom or dad. She would just hold me tightly. Sobbing against the back of my neck.
Still, those days seemed happier. We would run and play around the old farmhouse until we both had to lie down from exhaustion. We explore the forest behind the back yard - we'd enter through the alcove at the end of the lawn. The forest. What a magical place. All those sounds of critters scampering around. Those odours, sweet, earthy, musky, fresh. Penny was always happy, when we went into the forest. And I knew we'd be together forever.
Penny could be happy, but sadness seemed to follow her around like a ghost. Whenever Penny closed the door to her bedroom, she would be sad. And I would have to calm her down. I loved cheering her up, but I could never make the sadness go away for good. That's why she finally decided to see a doctor, so she wouldn't be so sad all the time. And I was happy that she wanted to get better. Penny's the best and she deserves to be happy all the time.
—
Maybe she got better. A bit. But I couldn't tell. After seeing the doctor a few times, she started to avoid me. She didn't ask if I wanted to go out. She locked the door to her bedroom. I just couldn't understand why. I could hear her crying through the door, but she wouldn't answer my calls. She wouldn't let me in, even when I promised to cheer her up. And I've always made her happy.
So one day, when she hadn't even acknowledged me for a week, I kept pestering her and bothering her and yammering on until she had to see me. Talk to me. So she did.
"What is it?" she snapped at me.
I hesitated. "It's just… I thought seeing a doctor would make you feel better."
"I am feeling better," she said."
"But you're still crying. Almost every night."
"I know, but - "
"You cry all the time and you won't let me cheer you up!"
"Listen, I - "
"I've always been there for you and I've always made you feel better! I'm the only one who - "
"You don't make me feel better!" she yelled out.
I flinched. Then started: "I don't - "
"I mean, you do. You did," she said. "You always made me feel good and happy and - like everything would be alright. But you can't solve my problems. You're one of my problems."
"What is that supposed to mean?"
"Listen. When I was a kid, you were the only one who made me happy. The one perfect, bright spot in my life. And I won't forget that. Ever. But now, you just remind me of dad. It's like I can't even think of you without remembering all the shitty things."
"Dad?" What was she talking about?
"Yes. Dad! I thought you'd understand that - oh God! Listen to me… I'm so messed - "
She paused. Then started again:
"Okay. Dad was a monster. Not just because of what he did to me. I can handle how he treated me. I'm dealing with that. But you… Don't you remember?"
"Remember what?" I asked.
"Remember… What he did to you…"
I couldn't remember. I just stood there. Staring at her. Confused.
"Forget it," she said. "You wouldn't even understand."
—
I thought she would never talk to me again. For days she avoided me. Averting her eyes. Locking her door. I'd just follow her around the apartment until she would close the door to her bedroom.
The sound of her voice speaking my name was the sweetest thing I'd ever heard.
"Buster?"
"Yes! What is it, Penny?"
"Let's go for a drive."
I couldn't even mask my excitement. "Yeah! Let's go! Where do you want to go?"
"Let's go back home. To the farmhouse," she said. Her voice turned strangely somber.
Nevertheless, being back together, the two of us, made me feel as though everything would turn back to the way it used to be. Penny would be happy, and I'd be there. Happy with her.
—
It was the same old farm, but still so different. The ground seemed as if it had been imbued with a thousand new lives. The air was laden with a milion strange memories. We walked around the house to the backyard. I couldn't take my eyes off the hundreds of new plants and flowers and small bushes that had sprouted since we left, years ago. Penny, however, walked straight accross the unkempt lawn. Towards an alcove partially hidden by the hanging branches of an old beech.
I had forgotten all about that tree. "Strange," I thought. "That tree always made me feel at home."
"Hey, come here," she said.
She stood in the alcove, looking at something.
"You see that?" she asked me.
I didn't really understand. There wasn't anything worth looking at. Just a bare patch of grass. And a pair of sticks held together with twine. Someone had scratched lines in one of the sticks.
"It's just a couple of sticks tied together," I said, nonplussed.
"Yeah," she replied "I guess you're right. Just a couple of sticks."
I thought: "Why did she sound so sad? What's so awful about a couple of - "
Cold. I suddenly felt so very cold. And wet. I felt as if I'd been cold and wet forever. I couldn't remember being warm or dry. The sky darkened, shadows up towards the pale sun in a swiftly narrowing cirkle. Cold. Wet. Dark.
"Penny."
"Yeah, buddy?"
"I remember now."
"Oh," she said. "You know. Of all the things he did. That always seemed like the worst thing. Like - he couldn't even let me have one thing to be happy about… I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you."
"I know. I'm not upset. Just thinking about how much I'll miss you."
"Well, maybe it won't be so bad," she said. "You always loved the forest. Now you can explore it as much as you want. And you know what? I'll come by sometimes. I'll visit."
My heart leapt into my throat.
"You will? You promise?" I whimpered."
"Yes. Promise."
I got so I excited, I had to hug her.
"Okay! Okay! And whenever you come by, I'll be waiting right here. And we can go into the forest together. Like when we were little."
"Haha! Yes, we'll do that!" she answered. "I can't wait. But… You do have to stay here. And I have to go. Understand?"
"I do."
"And you can't follow me. I have to take care of myself you know."
"It's okay. I get it… Goodbye, Penny."
"Goodbye, old buddy," she said, slowly turning around. She started towards the old farmhouse.
As she walked across the lawn, her boots crushing soft, long blades of grass, my stomach churned with worry. I needed more. Just one final happy memory. I had to turn around and call her name.
"Penny!"
"Please, Buster. I can't - "
"I know. I know. But could you say it again? Just one last time?"
Penny smiled. I caught the scent of her tears. She leaned forward, slapped her knees and yelled, cheerily:
"Good boy, Buster!" | "You look better." Chloe smiles at you, and in that moment, the bags beneath her eyes look less obvious. Your gaze turns to the bottle of pills lying on the dresser besides her bed. She had just taken one, and she's a lot more mellow than she's been in a while. "I haven't seen you in a while though. Where have you been?"
 
"I was..." The words die in your throat. You can't remember. "I was just chilling at home, I guess. I haven't been doing much of anything lately." And suddenly you're struck by the fact that you're forgetting so many things lately. Like your favorite show. Or where you've been for the past five days.
 
"Oh." She continues to smile blandly back at you for a moment before returning to her laptop. She leans back on her bed, gesturing to the spot next to you. "Come on! Let's watch an episode of Riverdale," she gushes. "I know it's your favorite." But then she pauses, slightly frowning. She looks at you, unsure. "Right?" She can't seem to remember either then, and you can't tell if that should alarm you. After all, you've been friends for ten years now. You were there with her when her father died in a car accident. And then again when her dog passed away from kidney failure. And most recently, when she came back home with bruises, denying vehemently that her boyfriend had caused them. You couldn't do anything for her other than hold her when she cried. That's what best friends are for, after all.
 
She shakes her head, and you know she dazed off again. It was those stupid side effects from those drugs. If that idiot doctor hadn't prescribed them, maybe she'd still remember things. Coping mechanism your ass. He actually had the gall to imply you were the one who was preventing her from getting better. You were her friend, and all you've ever done was help her. You were even the one who introduced her to him. You can feel the anger build up inside you, frothing to the surface. Why does no one even acknowledge you after everything you've done?
 
The feeling of cool fingertips shakes you out of your thoughts, and you feel the tension leave your body. "Are you okay?" Chloe looks at you, worry in her eyes, and after a moment, you finally manage to squeeze out a "I'm fine." She begins to play the episode, but you suddenly can't pay attention, your eyes blinded by the glare of light coming from across the room. Was that mirror always there?
 
You can feel your heart begin to beat faster. It didn't make sense. Your eyes flit to the picture on her dresser of a ten year old Chloe, her arm looped around the shoulder of another ten year old girl. Meredith. You. But the curls in the mirror are still the same, and you still have your baby fat. In fact, you look exactly the same as you did ten years ago.
 
All of a sudden, there's a blinding pain in the back of your head. You begin to scream, clawing at your head. It feels like your brain is being ripped apart from the inside out. In desperation, you turn to Chloe.
"Chloe, help me! Call 911!" you yell at her, shaking her arm as hard as you can. But she doesn't respond, her eyes still glued to the screen. It's as if she doesn't even hear you.
 
"Chloe, please," you beg. But the world in front of you is beginning to shimmer. You can feel yourself gasping for breath, and you wonder why each inhale is so painful when you can't remember what it's like to breathe. It's happening again. You lunge toward the pill bottle, suddenly furious, desperate to knock it into the trash can. It's that stupid doctor. That idiot doctor who doesn't even know what Chloe needs. If only he didn't...
 
The world turns black. | |
[WP] The main story is going along just fine, when the narrator becomes aware of the fact that he is, indeed, just the narrator. Now everywhere along the rest of the story, the narcissistic narrator tries to make the story about himself. | *Celeste idly prodded the salad on her plate. The reception hall was decorated in vibrant shades of blue, with sunflowers woven into intricate strings of garland adorning the tables. It was the bride's favorite flower, after all. She wanted to be happy, she really did. Jonathan and Natalia completed each other. Four months into their freshman year of high school, she asked him out on a date. Now, six years later, Celeste had the honor of watching them say their vows. She loved her friends, but on that day she would have preferred to be anywhere else but here.*
"Celeste!" *Celeste was jarred out of her ruminations by the well dressed man waving at her.* "Wanna come on the dance floor? Sahil challenged me to a dance off and I need someone to have my back."
*It pained Celeste to look at Jonathan. It had been a hole in her heart since high school. She wanted her best friend to be happy with the woman he loved, and yet-*
*Celeste raised her wine glass.* "Nah Jon, I'm gonna stay here for a bit and have one last toast to our band."
*Jonathan laughed.* "Come on, Nat won't make us break the band apart. She loves our music. Plus, she might be able to hook us up with some popular venues!" *Celeste saw the familiar excited sparkle in his eyes, but she failed to match her friend's excitement.*
"They're playing your favorite song. Go show Sahil who's boss." *Celeste paused to take a sip of wine.*
*Jonathan narrowed his eyes, noticing the listlessness in her demeanor.*
"Go, Jon. I'll be fine. I'm an adult." *Celeste wanted nothing more than to be alone at that moment, to celebrate her loneliness.*
"All right. But if you don't get out on the dance floor at least once tonight, Nat, Sahil and I are gonna drag your ass out there." *Jonathan lingered, wanting to say more, before heading to the dance floor.*
*Celeste was finally alone. She reached towards the bottle of wine and filled the glass to brim. She sank down in her chair, her salad forgotten. The internet would be a- able to-*
Celeste looked up sharply. "What the hell? Who just stuttered?"
*Shit. I'm so sorry. Please don't tell anybody I messed up.*
"...what? Who are you? Who's talking?"
*Celeste stopped looking around like a madwoman and returned to nursing her crippling alcoholism.*
"Hey! I'm not an alcoholic. Now, what are you?"
*Celeste lowered her voice and closed her stupid mouth so she would stop interrogating the narrator.*
"A...narrator? Christ, I really have lost my mind." Celeste rubbed her temples in exasperation.
*N- no, you haven't. Everybody has a narrator.*
"So why aren't you narrating my life right now? Most people don't talk to the voices in their head."
*I'm going through a lot right now, okay?*
Celeste paused a moment. "You wanna talk about it?"
*Ughh my boyfriend was narrating for someone else behind my back...!*
Celeste smiled. "Oh my gosh, tell me about it. That reminds me of when I was younger..." | And that is when he truly broke down. It felt like the weight of the world came crashing down on her now that his lover, the one that had loved him even when everything else was going to hell. The one that had helped him get away from his parents after years of abuse. The one that had prevented him from being completely homeless and completely alone in the world. It was too much to bear. He gave in to his panic and to his despair and started bawling like the scared little boy she was.
Honestly, it was a pathetic sight. He was crying as if no one had ever lost their lover before. As if he was the only one in the world to have ever felt this sad. Even though he was alone in the room, the waves of sadness that radiated from the broken man could be felt through the whole building. It was corrupting the atmosphere, destroying the pleasant mood that had been there just moments ago and repulsing all the other human beings in the vicinity.
Who was he, to cause that kind of havoc on so many people? Who was he, to disrupt so many other good people's day? Just because his lover had been killed? Hadn't they only been together for 6 years? They weren't even married! Sure, that was in part because even after 6 years, he was still scared his parents would find him again but even then! Why did he have the nerve to just annoy people with his sadness like that! Other people suffer too! We suffer too! Why did this piece of filth even care about her? Just some whore who took him away from us! Everything was perfect and now they were making it all about them! "I don't want to be beat up anymore! I don't want to be your punching bag, physically or emotionally! You never loved me!" and then just running away with that bitch.
Didn't they know how much that affected them? Didn't they know that everytime the neighbours asked, they now had to lie? And now he even had the gall to be all 'depressed' and such. If he was still living with us, he wouldn't dare be depressed. We would make sure of it. | |
[WP] Earth was a place where aliens left Humans, not as a 'farm' but as a Prison because the whole universe fears us and how we destroy everything we touch. We just developed interstellar flight and the whole universe is in a panic. | [SFD POWERING DOWN. ARRIVAL IN 15XN]
The faint hum of the SFD was interrupted again by the Commanders rusty voice. "Alright you heard the lady. Entry in a few so boots and tentacles off the consoles and prep for exit"
A small groan could be heard in the back follows by some muttering. "Do you have a problem Grex?"
Grex snapped his harness into his seat and snorted back. "Why do we even have to keep coming back to this backwater planet. Nothing ever changes with those things Commander."
"You know of the Elders concern for this species. They are to be kept here under strict supervision. And now we're back in rotation to relieve the moon base."
"It's and important task that keeps the other systems safe." Gal'ay chimed in from her station. "This species has been known to cause a lot of trouble within the systems."
[SFD POWERING DOWN. ARRIVAL IN 10XN]
"I know all that. But being stuck on that base for 50zxn is boring. We just watch them fight each other over and over." Grex relaxed back into his seat. "Don't get me wrong, it was entertaining for the first 100zxn or so but now it's just tiresome."
Gal'ay shot Grex a peircing glare.
"Don't give me that look. They've been de-evolved by the elders, and are stuck on that elderforsekan rock. They're not going anywhere for the rest of their feeble fu-"
Gal'ay quickly cut him off, "Sir, I'm getting some weird spikes on my instruments?"
"It's just interference from the SFD before drop-out." The Commander states calmly. "Happens all the time."
[SFD POWERING DOWN. ARRIVAL IN 5XN]
"Alright everyone prepare for drop-out. All harnesses should be secured properly." The Commander barked as he flipped a couple switches and tightened his grip on the seat harness.
There was a quick and sudden lurch back.
[SFD DISENGAGED. SOL SYSTEM REACHED]
"Gal'ay, ping our moonbase of our arrival. Grex, continue approach from behind their moon."
"Sir,... I'm not receiving them."
"Try again."
"I'm still not getting anything sir." Gal'ay said unsure, turning her attention to the forward screen. She wasn't prepared for what she was about to see.
"By the elders..." Grex's voice trailed off in utter disbelief
As they they finally came full around the moon. They saw it. Scores of ships, floating in this planets outer orbit. Transports, cargo ships and they even had multiple giant engineering docks. Then, off in the distance above the northern pools, they noticed the fleets. Hundreds of fighters, destroyers and frigates, just congregating together, as if they were getting in formation. The commanders heart started racing.
"WHERE ARE WE WITH MOONBASE GAL'AY?!" The Commander swiveled around to face Grex. "I want our cloaking on now!"
"No sir, we need to leave now!" Grex snapped back.
"Grex get that cloaking up, thats an ORD-"
"SIR! The moon...!?" Gal'ay shakily shouted over them.
"Put the rear cameras up, NOW!" The commander yelled, concern following his voice.
The entire crew looked up in complete shock. A heavy silence permeated the cabin. The commander stood up transfixed on the screen in front of him. Slowly he rubbed his eyes and as he opened them he was sure this was no dream. Before him on the screen was their moon, only half of it was gone. Then he saw something in the debris that made his hearts sink into his chest.
There it was, the largest ship he'd ever seen. Bigger than any destroyer the council could've created. Then, almost as if could smell the fear emanating from his entire crew, it started to turn. Towards them.
"Get the elders on." | Dear fellows of the retrial conviction committee of the Galactic council,
Last session, I was tasked with the assignment of bringing you the octennial Human development address. The goals of which is to report on the evolutionary development as well as any technological advancement that might have occurred. Under normal circumstances these topics are studied by a council representative during a period of 5 planetary cycles. But as you might have already heard, the human development has had reached exponential technological and scientific improvement. For that reason, I got special permission to extend my research phase to 60 planetary cycles so that I can properly inspect and evaluate the stage of human knowledge.
As we all know, the human species, which has its origins in the Stratic cluster, established themselves as a warmongering civilization during their three raids on neighboring lifeforms. In a barbaric manner this species slayed, harvested and burnt down those planets. By agreement of the council the Humans were sentenced for a retrial of evolution. Few specimens were moved to the now fully used planet 21:4 of the Trunder cluster. The rest were slain. Since then the retrial conviction committee has held a close eye on the species, ranking it a 7 on the danger scale.
During my thorough study of the species I’ve noted these key differences. They have experienced development of extreme speed.
During only around 250 generations they were able to go from preprimitive tool utilization to early level space travels. Although their technology yet lacks multiple key factors for interstellar travel, they are on a rapid momentum towards it. They have also, at an early point, established an planetwide network in which they can share information with each other.
Although the only intellectual being they have communicated with is themselves, Human society is every part as despicable as previous attempts. They have high rates of internal wars and conflicts. Murder, thievery and lies is common factors of local communities. Interestingly they have in this attempt humans seem to commonly domesticate other beings on the planet. And although that may seem cute, it must not deceive you from the danger that they possess.
It is on these ground that I recommend to the council immediate retrial of the human race.
Additionally, as this is the fourteenth attempt of retrial. I must pose the question of whether this species has not now proved that they are incapable of integration to interstellar relations on a galactic or local level. I would like to propose for debate the total deceasement of the retrials.
Sincerely,
Brandy Siegert, representative of the newfound colonies of scatter 221. | |
[WP] The US invades Heaven. Because there is oil there. | It wasn’t supposed to be like this.
Somewhere in the heavens, we stood at *The Bronze Gates*, guarded by a lone angel.
“He ain’t even moving,” boasted Private Chalke. “I could pick him off from here.” Technically, his finger was off the trigger, though peering through the scope at a non-hostile would get him in trouble with-
“Chalke!” bellowed Captain Ames. “You will keep that weapon pointed down until I tell you where else to point it. Clear?”
“Yes Captain,” Chalke answered. He lowered his weapon, slowly - he was used to getting into trouble, and it didn’t scare him like it used to.
The discovery of Heaven was profound. Every religion got into a theological brawl all at once, each laying claim to the land beyond *The Bronze Gates*. Most people didn’t know whether to go to church and beg for mercy, or rack up as many sins as possible until a final visit from the reaper. Many tried both.
But the real game-changer was when scientists discovered a way to visit. Then the ambassadors created an embassy. Then we learned of the oil. Scientists argued over how complex hydro-carbons could exist in the Ethereal Plain, but the governments didn’t seem to care. We were deployed shortly afterwards.
“Angel,” a loudspeaker shrieked. “This is General Hix of the United States Army. You are to lay down any weapons you carry and open *The Bronze Gates*.” I could see Hix with his guard detail. One of them drew a sign of the cross. “You have six-zero seconds to comply,” he added.
Captain Ames turned to face us. “If anyone wants to pray, get it done. They won’t be listening much longer.”
I had never prayed before today. But somehow it seemed like a bad day to start. The angel at the far end of the battlefield, a shimmering sea of crystal sands, didn’t move. He remained kneeling, white robes cloaking his face in shadow. Above him, on the ramparts, hundreds of others appeared. Spectators.
“One-zero seconds,” Dix called. The air up here always made a soft singing noise, but all I could hear was the nervous breath of my squad mates.
With four seconds left, a lone shot rang out. Captain Ames turned around, face contorted in horror, to see Private Chalke’s smoking rifle.
We all looked to the angel next. He was a click away, but as he stood up, we could all see golden drops leaking from his chest.
His white robes glowed brightly, then faded, revealing dark bronze armor. His wings began to glow, first in brilliant white, then in vermillion.
He raised a finger. Down range, at us. All the while, his face remained dark.
Captain Ames began to shout at Chalke. But no one heard what he said above the cacophonous crack that erupted from the sky.
One moment, Chalke was there. I think he was actually afraid of what he had done this time. The next, he was gone, the Angel from a click away having materialized where he once stood, now holding a mighty sword. A knight from another world, apparently unbound by the physics that enslaved our previous enemies.
For once, the Captain had nothing to say.
The Angel’s voice boomed from everywhere at once.
**FOR AEONS, WE HAVE IGNORED YOUR WORLD, AND ITS INHABITANTS.**
Small arms fire clinked against his armor. If it did anything, the Angel didn’t seem to notice.
**BUT IT APPEARS THAT WE CAN IGNORE YOU NO LONGER.**
He swung his sword, cleaving Captain Ames and a dozen others in gory halves.
**WE WILL RETURN TO YOUR WORLD, TO OVERSEE YOUR KIND, AND RETURN YOU TO A RIGHTEOUS PATH.**
The ramparts glowed brighter as armor appeared on the other angels. Nearby, tanks and fighter jets and humvees started to explode.
**NOW, KNEEL!** | I knew there was a reason the U.S. wanted to make a space corps by 2019. I just didn't think it would be for obtaining oil in heaven perhaps signs of life but not this. I was first to volunteer for this new war because I always wanted to go to space, I get massive pay bump for going, and to be honest I am a atheist. There will be no heaven to conquer at best we find a asteroid with a shit load of diamonds and we tow it back or whatever they have now a days.
I get to the ship and I'll tell you what this bitch is huge and it looks like something at out of star trek and to be honest I think my mission is over right here because there is no way this thing is getting of the ground.
Me and 200+ people board and on the inside it looks like you would expect a spaceship to look like with the defense budget of the U.S. Every one is going to sleep, eat, and do training for the next few months in this ship.
Launch day the moment of truth this is going to be epic if it works I'm sure it will but like I said this thing is huge. 10 the count down starts every one's faces are filled with excitement or fear no in between by the time the counter got to 5 everyone was excited I guess we just accepted what's going to happen is going to happen so might as well enjoy the ride. 3. 2. 1. Lift off!
Part 2 coming if interested. I'm new to this and don't know how I want to take this story yet.
| |
[WP] The world is on the verge of war. You are the latest graduate of Mech Pilot Training. As you are picking your mech unit, the general walks in with a grim look on his face. | “General!” I shouted, “Salute!”
I raised my arm and did the customary etiquette of a soldier to his senior.
The general stopped right in front of me; with a grim look looking at my way.
Cold sweat began to pour. As I know it, the world is at peace. No nation will have the gall to invade its neighbours, the invading force will have to endure a countinuous backlash of international criticism and counter invasions of other countries.
I straightened my back, and relayed, “Sir! What service can I do for you?”
Silence.
A continuous silence that could not keep my anxiety at bay. A drop of sweat slid of my cheek and touch the floor.
Finally, after a long while, the general opened his mouth. It’s opened. Still opened. But no word came out.
Cracking from the pressure, I reported the task designated for me, “Sir! As written in this form, I, Yameer Korschegev, have completed the basic Mech Pilot Training, as well as, the advanced maneuvering course at the top of my class, and can now be designated with a platform of my own. Sir!”
The general looked at me with his grisly expression, “As you have said, you graduated at the top of your class, passing and graduating with a grade capable of being on a league of its own.” He paused, took a letter out of his pocket and handed it to me, “You will be assigned to a commando troop, specializing at causing chaos and mayhem beyond the frontline.”
Hearing the his last words, I unconsciously disregarded the customary code and uttered, “Frontlines?”
With a coarse voice, he answered, “Yes, frontlines. Ready yourself boy, we are now at war.”
| NSFW LANGUAGE AHEAD
"General Mc. Marcen" I shouted when I saw him entering the door, just like we were taught.
"Drop that General bullshit dude, we royally fucked up, and you are soon going to be fucked too if you don't proceed with extreme precaution"
And this was coming from the tough military moustached men, so I was already freaking the fuck out. For some reason, although visibly freaked, General Mc. Marcen explained everything with a tone that made me feel like he knew what he was talking about.
Well he didn't know shit.
The problem was that the motherfuckers from fuel production were doing their job, producing ethanol fuel, tons and tons of it, stocking acres and acres of warehouses of enough fuel to melt 2 north poles, while the motherfucking engineers had made the Mecha engines, wait for it: helium fuel based.
Thats right. Yep. General Mc Fucker explained all that to me in less than 20 seconds, and handed me a gun, expecting for me to go only with the exoskeleton, WITHOUT FUEL FOR THE ACTUAL MISSILES ON THE MECHA, and I just sat there. Looking at him.
I honestly, for the first time in my life, did not know what to do. I had a dilemma.
A)Go find the ultraretarded engineers that used helium fuel because it was better for the climate or some bullshit like that and kill them.
B)Go find the infraimbecile guys in charge of fuel production and torture them.
I couldn't make up my mind so I just shot myself. | |
[WP] You have just died and you are in a room, waiting to meet either God or Satan. The person who walks into the room looks just like you. | When I first arrived, the receptionist told me to wait in the Gray Room. She said that my case is being reviewed and as soon as they come to a conclusion - I can move to the White Room or Black Room and meet either My Creator or my Demise.
It's been a while, now. I can't say exactly how much - there's no indicator and I have no idea if time in the afterlife moves as fast as time on earth.
It's a weird feeling. It seems like the Gray Room is robbing me of my emotions - I feel like I should be afraid as all hells, but my heartbeat isn't anything abnormal and I'm not feeling nervous at all.
A door finally opens and I see the receptionist come in.
Two doors formed behind me. The receptionist points at the door on the right and says "He's waiting."
I stand up slowly and enter through the door.
The moments I step through the door I feel like my emotions are back, like I got possessed by myself. I'm terrified. I'm in the Black Room. At least that's what I think this is. The room is all black, except for the snow white table in the middle and the man behind it, wearing a full white suit.
I thought that the room was playing tricks on my mind - but now I'm certain - the man behind the table - is me.
"Hello." The man starts, "Take a seat."
I follow his commands, visibly shaking in the process.
"Relax. We're here to chat a little."
"Am I going to hell?" His remark didn't help calming me down.
The other me chuckles. "What makes you think that?"
"There are two rooms and we're in the Black Room. Out of the two - this seems like the worse choice."
"Ah. But why are you so sure this is the Black Room? Maybe this is the White Room - because the table is white, and I'm wearing white? You haven't seen the other room, so how do you know the other room isn't completely black?"
"Is it the white room?"
"This is for you to find out."
"But how?"
"Dig deep inside yourself and answer me this - do you think you belong in heaven or hell?"
"I don't know. Isn't that for you to decide?"
"It is. But I always like to ask the people who arrive here, what they thought of their experience being alive."
"Okay. So... I've done plenty of bad things in my life. I've pretty much broken all 10 ammendments but 1 - I didn't kill anyone."
"What about that little bird that you shot when you were on that hunting trip with your father, when you were 12?"
"Does that count?"
"Of course it does! All lives matter."
"So I am a sinner - I have broken all 10 ammendments..."
"I've got to be honest with you - I hate when people mention the 10 ammendments. There's so much to being a good or a bad person - far beyond those 10 little rules that your kind put in my mouth..."
"So were the Hebrews lying? You never showed up to Moses?"
"No one showed up to Moses. He just used the opportunity he recieved to make order out of the chaos that the younger mankind was living in, and for that - he got to heaven."
"Woah..."
"Now let's get back to yo - where do you belong? Were there only things you've done wrong in your life? Or did you manage to do good too?"
"I did... some good. I tried to be a good person, but that doesn't justify my wrongs, I know."
"Tell me about your good deeds."
"Okay, well for starters - I was a loyal husband. I hope - I was a good father, and I believe I raised good children. I helped my parents whenever I could. I would never pass by a person in need."
"Never?"
"Not conciously at least."
"There are always people in need, even when you don't notice it - and even if they don't show it - you can always help, one way or another."
"Are you God?"
"What difference will it make if I'm God or Satan?"
"You don't seem like Satan."
"Once again - people used Satan in order to scare others into behaving. Maybe he's not even real."
"But the receptionist"
The other me cut me mid sentence "Says what I need her to say."
"Why do you look like me?"
"Why do you think I look exactly like you?"
"Because... you want me to see my reflection? Both good and bad?"
"That's an interesting theory."
"So what is the reason?"
"It is whatever you want it to be."
We both stayed silent for a a while, until I decided to speak again - "So am I going to Heaven or Hell?"
"There is a Reason you arrived at the Gray Room. The Gray Room is an intermediary room for people who haven't realized themselves completely. I'll tell you a secret. Most humans don't go to Heaven or Hell, they return to earth - they get another try to either become completely pure or completely corrupt. Earth is - the Medium Place."
"So what was all that for? Aren't you busy at all?"
"In the afterlife - time has no meaning - I am, I was, I will be. Everyone who arrives here 'lives' outside of time. And I'd rather people go to Heaven than Hell. So that's why I am here for."
I was speechless.
"Good luck on your next try." The other me smiled and waved goodbye as I was sucked down an endless dark tunnel. | ######[](#dropcap)
The waiting room was sort of nice at least.
A bit bright - what with all the white surfaces. White walls, white ceiling, white floor, white chairs - all lit up by ephemerally sourced white light. The effect was a tad overwhelming.
There was a small white table in one corner of the room, upon which sat a stack of white mugs, and white frosted baked goods on shiny white plates. There were also three big white urns, each of them with white stickers stuck to them.
Rolf stood up from one of the two chairs in the center of the room and walked over to the refreshments. He took a small white dish and placed a perfect looking white pastry onto it. The pastry was shiny, covered in a glossy frosting, but there was no way to tell what flavor the actual pastry underneath was.
Rolf took one of the inverted white mugs, flipped it over, and went to pour himself some coffee from the urns. He leaned in, peering carefully at each sign, trying to figure out which urn had coffee in it, but the urns and the signs were both the same color white. If Rolf cupped his hands around his eyes he could just make out the outline of some kind of letters on the sign, but they were also the same color white.
Perplexed by heaven's asshole design, Rolf stuck his mug under one of the urns and opened the spigot. Plain hot water poured out. Rolf let the trigger of the spigot go and looked down at the hot water in his mug. He gave an annoyed sigh, swirled the water in the mug until it cooled down, and then drank it in a gulp.
Then Rolf placed the mug under the middle urn and depressed the trigger. Hot tea.
"Goddamnit."
Rolf said the word and then immediately regretted it, nervously looking around. No cameras that he could see. Returning to his mug, he swirled the small amount of tea around until it was cool enough to drink and downed it in a gulp. Earl Gray - Rolf's least favorite.
Mug empty once again, Rolf was about to set it down and fill it with coffee at the last urn when there was an announcement.
"Please have a seat." The male voice was amicable, but firm. "He has arrived."
Quickly, Rolf depressed the spigot trigger, expecting coffee to fill up his mug, but instead getting steaming hot milk. "Really?"
But there was no time to complain, and no one to complaint to. The voice repeated the order to sit down, and Rolf obliged, carefully walking over with his perfect white pastry on a plate and a cup of hot milk in a mug. The moment Rolf sat down, the lights dimmed and the door to the room opened, releasing a plume of white fog, like the dry ice they use at live concerts and wrestling matches. A figure walked into the room, too bright to look at directly. Rolf covered his eyes with his right hand, and brought the mug of milk up to his lips with the left, taking a sip. It really wasn't bad.
Eventually the blinding light of the figure dissipated and before Rolf, in all his exacting glory, stood Rolf.
Rolf was surprised. So surprised he nearly threw his white pastry at the new Rolf out of instinct. It was like when a cat sees itself in a mirror and thinks to itself, "fuck that cat." Rolf could handle Rolf in the mirror, but Rolf standing in front of Rolf conjured a surprising amount of distaste and aggression.
Rolf took a seat across from Rolf and gestured to the plate of snacks in Rolf's hands. "Please," Rolf said, his voice indistinguishable from Rolf's voice, "don't let me stop you."
Rolf understood "don't let me stop you" to mean what it always really meant, "Stop, now." But Rolf felt both ill at ease in this room all of a sudden, and lacking the upper hand. In an effort to get it back, Rolf ignored Rolf's implicit command, picked up the painfully white pastry, and took a heaping bite. The taste of sweet, unadulterated anise filled Rolf's mouth and he nearly spat the thing out in disgust. The frosting was pure sugar, and the pastry itself was extraordinarily dry.
As Rolf suffered through the pastry, Rolf gave him a pleasant, inscrutable smile. The smile could mean "I hope you're enjoying your pastry," or "I hope you choke on that fucking pastry." Rolf had no idea.
But Rolf with the pastry was sure of two things: 1. Rolf *hated* anise, in any form and 2. Rolf was not going to stop until he ate that entire disgusting pastry.
One giant bite at a time, Rolf destroyed that pastry, stuffing it down his gullet like a competitive eater. When the last drop disappeared into Rolf's mouth, other Rolf cleared his throat and began to speak.
"I know you're wondering who I am, and where you are. I know also that the questions you're going to ask are based on some fundamental misunderstandings of how things really work. Nonetheless, I'll answer your questions, and then this meeting will be over, and we will go out separate ways."
Rolf struggled to get the last bite of drywall textured pastry down his throat, taking a large gulp of warm milk as lubrication. When his mouth was finally empty, Rolf spoke, his voice identical to the other Rolf. "Are you God?"
"Yes and no."
Things were already going strangely. "So you're Satan?"
"God, Satan - names for vagaries of chance which afflict us all. They are both me. I am both of those things, and neither of those things."
"Oh," That was a big revelation to just drop on him like that, being raised Roman Catholic, and Rolf was suddenly glad he had the warm milk to put him at ease. "So, is this heaven then?"
Rolf shrugged, "Heaven, Hell - same thing - it's neither here nor there. We do our best with the resources we have. How did you like the pastry?"
"It was good." Rolf's smile gave him away completely, the sort of smile you give to a dying old woman who gives you a Good n'Plenty and waits to watch you eat it in front of her.
Rolf wasn't offended. "Yeah, our baker needs some work."
"You don't have any coffee." Rolf blurted out.
God/Satan Rolf turned toward the three urns and pointed to the middle one. "No, I think that one is coffee."
Rolf held up the remains of his glass of milk for Rolf to see. "Nope, milk."
"Milk? Who fills an urn with milk?"
Rolf shrugged, "right? That's what I was wondering. Who's running this place?"
"Good that you should ask," then Rolf stood up, took a small token out of his side pocket, and handed to Rolf, "accept this token, and *you* will be."
"Huh?"
"This happens every few millenia up here, it's a balance of power thing. The head honcho, me, soon you, switches places with a mortal and gets to live out the rest of a mortal life, whereas the mortal becomes the ruler of existence, for awhile."
"Awhile?"
"Yeah, 8 to 10 thousand years." Rolf took a couple of steps forward to hand the token to Rolf, but Rolf recoiled from it, almost imperceptibly.
"What if I say no?" Rolf nervously sipped the last of his milk, wishing he had more.
Rolf, the token held out in front of him, answered "If you say no, you can walk right out that door, back into your mortal life, where you will live maybe fifty more years, if you're lucky, and then die. Or..." Rolf bent over slightly, the token moving within Rolf's reaching distance, "...you can be the most powerful being in the universe for thousands of years. Your call."
Rolf considered his options for awhile, possibly a very long while, as time was not acting normally wherever they were, but instead seemed to be dilating extensively. Eventually, Rolf made his choice.
5 minutes later, Rolf walked out of the interview chamber, his eyes filled with a renewed vigor, his steps alive with potential. He was about to teleport to his quarters, when a thought occurred to him. With a snap of his fingers, he willed a black marker into his hands and walked back into the waiting room. Bending over the refreshment table, Rolf wrote the contents of each urn out on their unbroken white labels in big black letters. Then with a thought, a forth urn was manifested, filled with coffee. Finally, the all white pastries were blinked away, replaced with moist slices of red velvet cake and strudel.
Rolf saw all that he had made, and it was very good.
******
##### For More Legends From The Multiverse
##### r/LFTM | |
[WP] You have just died and you are in a room, waiting to meet either God or Satan. The person who walks into the room looks just like you. | “Take a seat over there,” the receptionist said, “We’ll call your name when they’re ready.” She pointed to a few rows of chairs and sofas in the corner. It was a large waiting room in between two office doors, “God” and “Satan” engraved on the respective nameplates. The office looked like it was straight out of the seventies. Long slim orange sofas lined the walls and several rows of brown and gold chairs spread between them. The waiting room was pretty full, mostly with the elderly in hospital gowns; there were several middle aged men, and one very lost looking teenager. I took a seat opposite the teen on one of the sofas.
I knew that I was dead. I remember the car sideswiping me as I was walking down the sidewalk. It had felt like I was pushed but I was unsure. I remember laying on the asphalt and hearing the people’s voices. It felt like my hips were pointing one way and my torso another. I remember I felt like I was falling, then I realized I was in an elevator going down. There was soft jazz music playing and two dots above the door separated by a long line of lights. The lights were moving from left to right between the two dots, below them were the words: “Life” and “Death.” After a few minutes a bell rang and the doors swung open to the desk of the receptionist. A young lady with her hair up in a bun smiled at me over a guestbook on her desk. She welcomed me in, made me sign my name and time of arrival, and then handed me a pamphlet I could read while I wait.
I scanned the information in the pamphlet as I took in more of the room. It felt familiar, like a job interview I had already been to, but I couldn’t place it. I found my eyes examining each door, God’s and Satan’s looked exactly the same. Could either of them really be just behind these doors? Surely it was just a representative or maybe these were the doors to another elevator. The pamphlet had explained little about what would happen on either side of these doors. It was more or less a public service announcement that we were all in fact dead, that we should wait calmly for our name to be called, and that we should seek the receptionist if we have any problems. What problems could we have now that we were dead? I sat and watched as several people were called to either door. The ones that were called to Satan’s door always had a dreaded look on their face. The teenager was called to that door, and after shakily walking in, he re-emerged after a few minutes and took his seat again, his look was one of relief. A few more people entered from the elevators and took their seats without much fanfare until he walked in. He looked exactly like me, different clothes, maybe a bit older but he looked exactly like me. My mind raced to possibilities as he stepped from the elevator, had my mom had twins? Was he my doppelganger? Was this a normal thing here in the afterlife? He told the receptionist his name and she went pale. She shot a look over at me of panic and then back to him. She picked up her phone and pushed a button.
“Um. I have a problem. Can either of you come help?”
In unison the two doors flung open and two figures walked out. Out of God’s door came a large dark skinned man with his hair in a ponytail. He was wearing a bright orange sweatshirt with a nice white collar shirt under it, on his lower half he had swim trunks, sandals, and a tatoo on his thigh. From the opposite door came a sweet looking old lady. Her hair all curled up, just like my grandmother’s had been, and she wore a matching purple velvet jumpsuit and crocs. They both looked happy to be out of their offices. Surely these people were not them, just some worker here like the receptionist had been.
“What seems to be the problem Petra?” he said as he walked towards her desk.
“One of these youngin’s giving you trouble again?” asked the old lady.
“No, Lucy, it’s just —” She picked up the guestbook and pointed out the two names.
Lucy took a sharp breath and put hand to her mouth while the man’s reaction was more puzzled. He looked around the room and made eye contact with me and waved me over. I realized everyone there had grown quiet and were staring straight at me. I rose and walked slowly across the room. The man smiled at me and put his hand on my shoulder.
“Now, Steve, do you know this man?” He motioned towards the other me standing behind him. We looked at each other, both of us confused.
“No. No, sir. I — well I think he is me?” I said
“Yes. Yes he is,” the man said as he looked to lucy and the receptionist, “and that is the problem, and its quite a big one.”
“Any ideas Jay?’ lucy asked. “I’ve never seen this before in all my years.”
“Hmmm. Yes I think I have an idea, both of you come with me.”
The man walked to the elevator and we followed. All four of us got in leaving the receptionist behind and then the doors closed. There were no buttons to push but the lights in the elevator began to light back up towards life. Both myself and I were too afraid to say anything, we just kept making nervous eye contact and watching the two others with us.
“You think he’ll be mad, you know showing up unannounced and all?” Lucy asked. “Should you have called before we left?”
“Dad will be fine, I’ll calm him down,” Jay said. “Just cause you were kicked out doesn’t mean you can’t come visit every now and then, especially in this case.”
A bell rang and the doors slid open to reveal a large white room with doors all around the walls. In the center of the room was a board with constantly flipping characters and numbers on it. Jay led us to the board and Lucy followed. They studied it for a moment, it looked to be some other language, then Jay turned right and approached one of the doors. Every door looked the same and had no distinguishing markings, how he knew where he was going was a mystery to me.
| ######[](#dropcap)
The waiting room was sort of nice at least.
A bit bright - what with all the white surfaces. White walls, white ceiling, white floor, white chairs - all lit up by ephemerally sourced white light. The effect was a tad overwhelming.
There was a small white table in one corner of the room, upon which sat a stack of white mugs, and white frosted baked goods on shiny white plates. There were also three big white urns, each of them with white stickers stuck to them.
Rolf stood up from one of the two chairs in the center of the room and walked over to the refreshments. He took a small white dish and placed a perfect looking white pastry onto it. The pastry was shiny, covered in a glossy frosting, but there was no way to tell what flavor the actual pastry underneath was.
Rolf took one of the inverted white mugs, flipped it over, and went to pour himself some coffee from the urns. He leaned in, peering carefully at each sign, trying to figure out which urn had coffee in it, but the urns and the signs were both the same color white. If Rolf cupped his hands around his eyes he could just make out the outline of some kind of letters on the sign, but they were also the same color white.
Perplexed by heaven's asshole design, Rolf stuck his mug under one of the urns and opened the spigot. Plain hot water poured out. Rolf let the trigger of the spigot go and looked down at the hot water in his mug. He gave an annoyed sigh, swirled the water in the mug until it cooled down, and then drank it in a gulp.
Then Rolf placed the mug under the middle urn and depressed the trigger. Hot tea.
"Goddamnit."
Rolf said the word and then immediately regretted it, nervously looking around. No cameras that he could see. Returning to his mug, he swirled the small amount of tea around until it was cool enough to drink and downed it in a gulp. Earl Gray - Rolf's least favorite.
Mug empty once again, Rolf was about to set it down and fill it with coffee at the last urn when there was an announcement.
"Please have a seat." The male voice was amicable, but firm. "He has arrived."
Quickly, Rolf depressed the spigot trigger, expecting coffee to fill up his mug, but instead getting steaming hot milk. "Really?"
But there was no time to complain, and no one to complaint to. The voice repeated the order to sit down, and Rolf obliged, carefully walking over with his perfect white pastry on a plate and a cup of hot milk in a mug. The moment Rolf sat down, the lights dimmed and the door to the room opened, releasing a plume of white fog, like the dry ice they use at live concerts and wrestling matches. A figure walked into the room, too bright to look at directly. Rolf covered his eyes with his right hand, and brought the mug of milk up to his lips with the left, taking a sip. It really wasn't bad.
Eventually the blinding light of the figure dissipated and before Rolf, in all his exacting glory, stood Rolf.
Rolf was surprised. So surprised he nearly threw his white pastry at the new Rolf out of instinct. It was like when a cat sees itself in a mirror and thinks to itself, "fuck that cat." Rolf could handle Rolf in the mirror, but Rolf standing in front of Rolf conjured a surprising amount of distaste and aggression.
Rolf took a seat across from Rolf and gestured to the plate of snacks in Rolf's hands. "Please," Rolf said, his voice indistinguishable from Rolf's voice, "don't let me stop you."
Rolf understood "don't let me stop you" to mean what it always really meant, "Stop, now." But Rolf felt both ill at ease in this room all of a sudden, and lacking the upper hand. In an effort to get it back, Rolf ignored Rolf's implicit command, picked up the painfully white pastry, and took a heaping bite. The taste of sweet, unadulterated anise filled Rolf's mouth and he nearly spat the thing out in disgust. The frosting was pure sugar, and the pastry itself was extraordinarily dry.
As Rolf suffered through the pastry, Rolf gave him a pleasant, inscrutable smile. The smile could mean "I hope you're enjoying your pastry," or "I hope you choke on that fucking pastry." Rolf had no idea.
But Rolf with the pastry was sure of two things: 1. Rolf *hated* anise, in any form and 2. Rolf was not going to stop until he ate that entire disgusting pastry.
One giant bite at a time, Rolf destroyed that pastry, stuffing it down his gullet like a competitive eater. When the last drop disappeared into Rolf's mouth, other Rolf cleared his throat and began to speak.
"I know you're wondering who I am, and where you are. I know also that the questions you're going to ask are based on some fundamental misunderstandings of how things really work. Nonetheless, I'll answer your questions, and then this meeting will be over, and we will go out separate ways."
Rolf struggled to get the last bite of drywall textured pastry down his throat, taking a large gulp of warm milk as lubrication. When his mouth was finally empty, Rolf spoke, his voice identical to the other Rolf. "Are you God?"
"Yes and no."
Things were already going strangely. "So you're Satan?"
"God, Satan - names for vagaries of chance which afflict us all. They are both me. I am both of those things, and neither of those things."
"Oh," That was a big revelation to just drop on him like that, being raised Roman Catholic, and Rolf was suddenly glad he had the warm milk to put him at ease. "So, is this heaven then?"
Rolf shrugged, "Heaven, Hell - same thing - it's neither here nor there. We do our best with the resources we have. How did you like the pastry?"
"It was good." Rolf's smile gave him away completely, the sort of smile you give to a dying old woman who gives you a Good n'Plenty and waits to watch you eat it in front of her.
Rolf wasn't offended. "Yeah, our baker needs some work."
"You don't have any coffee." Rolf blurted out.
God/Satan Rolf turned toward the three urns and pointed to the middle one. "No, I think that one is coffee."
Rolf held up the remains of his glass of milk for Rolf to see. "Nope, milk."
"Milk? Who fills an urn with milk?"
Rolf shrugged, "right? That's what I was wondering. Who's running this place?"
"Good that you should ask," then Rolf stood up, took a small token out of his side pocket, and handed to Rolf, "accept this token, and *you* will be."
"Huh?"
"This happens every few millenia up here, it's a balance of power thing. The head honcho, me, soon you, switches places with a mortal and gets to live out the rest of a mortal life, whereas the mortal becomes the ruler of existence, for awhile."
"Awhile?"
"Yeah, 8 to 10 thousand years." Rolf took a couple of steps forward to hand the token to Rolf, but Rolf recoiled from it, almost imperceptibly.
"What if I say no?" Rolf nervously sipped the last of his milk, wishing he had more.
Rolf, the token held out in front of him, answered "If you say no, you can walk right out that door, back into your mortal life, where you will live maybe fifty more years, if you're lucky, and then die. Or..." Rolf bent over slightly, the token moving within Rolf's reaching distance, "...you can be the most powerful being in the universe for thousands of years. Your call."
Rolf considered his options for awhile, possibly a very long while, as time was not acting normally wherever they were, but instead seemed to be dilating extensively. Eventually, Rolf made his choice.
5 minutes later, Rolf walked out of the interview chamber, his eyes filled with a renewed vigor, his steps alive with potential. He was about to teleport to his quarters, when a thought occurred to him. With a snap of his fingers, he willed a black marker into his hands and walked back into the waiting room. Bending over the refreshment table, Rolf wrote the contents of each urn out on their unbroken white labels in big black letters. Then with a thought, a forth urn was manifested, filled with coffee. Finally, the all white pastries were blinked away, replaced with moist slices of red velvet cake and strudel.
Rolf saw all that he had made, and it was very good.
******
##### For More Legends From The Multiverse
##### r/LFTM | |
[WP] Most people have a devil on one shoulder and an angel on the other. You have a devil on one shoulder...and something far worse on the other. | "Yeah, I know. It's a little weird..." I said to my therapist.
"A little weird? Tell him it's fucking insane!"
"Understand him. Help him. It's not his fault. Nobody gets to choose their shoulder companions. You read case studies similar while you were working on your degree."
I heard her shoulder angel and devil begin to go at it. I don't know why, but I've always had your standard "the devil" on one side. My psyche for some reason has typically replaced "the angel" side with the current president of the United States.
You see, in the past it hasn't really been much of an issue. When Obama was President, I greatly expanded my perspective of the struggle of and what every day life was like as an African American. I mean, George W. Bush was a little weird, but he meant well. The new guy? Total disaster.
"Tell me this though, no wait. Ask her this: How does a woman, a Mexican woman at that, ge-"
"Dude, she's from Chile..." I said, trying to ignore my shoulder devil as he rolled around, hysterically laughing on my left.
"Yeah okay sure. And I love therapists. Ask anyone. You ask anyone who I love more than anyone and they'll say therapists. They'll say, 'This guy loves therapists.' But how does a Mexican woman get a degree, much less the money for a degree, in our great nation? Are you trying to save money by going to this therapist? I could loan you a small amount of capital to go to a real therapist."
"As per usual, shut up, Trump." I shot him a fiery look which he dismissed with a patronizing wave.
Then, something amazing happened, he actually shut up. In all the time I'd been dealing with this guy, he had never listened to me. He stared pensively off into the distance for a minute. Had we made a break through? Were these sessions finally beginning to pay off?
Trump nodded his head as if he came to an internal conclusion and looked up at me.
"Tell her that her tits look great in that blouse." | Everyone has an angle on one side and a devil on the other. Me too! Atleast.. I think so. Since I was little I only remember the devil. It didn't talk much which is strange, because they told us in school "the devil will try to control you with his words at all times."
It's not like there is nothing on the other side. I can feel it's presence but I can't describe or see it. Maybe I'm imagining things but sometimes I see the devil glancing over and looking extremely frightened afterwards. He is a devil though so I don't really understand what he could be afraid of. Whenever I tried to ask him about my missing angle he didn't dare to answer though.
I was peacefully sleeping when someone kicked in my door, aiming a gun at me. I couldn't really understand what he saif because I fell asleep again. Atleast that's my side of the story. When I woke up, my devil pointed a finger at the ground. "We need to talk about your other half." The man that aimed a pistol at me a few moments ago had his arms and head ripped off. | |
[WP] Most people have a devil on one shoulder and an angel on the other. You have a devil on one shoulder...and something far worse on the other. | Everyone has little voices in their heads. They have the sinner, the naughty one, the short-term guy, the venture capitalist. And on the other hand they have the nice guy, the angel, the monk, the environmentalist.
I also have two voices, two little dudes on my shoulder. I have a devil on one shoulder, which is normal. He tells me to eat that jam'n'cream croissant with icing sugar on top, he tells me to watch the thirty minute youtube video about why Leafyishere is a bad person.
But. Where the angel should be, is something much worse than a devil.
Where the angel should be, instead exists something so much more menacing. A carnivorous beast. A howling harlequin. A skulking monstrosity of the underworld. For on my other shoulder is a Social Justice Warrior.
"Dude. Just eat the fucking Fruit Burst, it's good for you." Said The Devil.
"No it's not, its literally a block of sugar." I replied.
"What do you mean by dude?" Said The Feminist, cutting in. "With the use of that word you're implying that we have to assign binarically gender normative nouns to everyday speech. Are you referring to the host as a male simply base-"
"Here we *fuckin'* go again." Said The Devil. I rolled my eyes.
"..And just because you don't understand the complexities of chemical structure in relation to gender identity doesn't mean you get to decide the objective truth of the matter, your unresearched opinion is based solely upon emotion and-"
"Fuck up!" I yelled.
Everyone on the train turned to me and glared. A mother with her kid, no more than seven-years-old glared at me with extra intensity. Luckily I had one earphone in, the other hanging at my chest. At least I could suggest I was on the phone or something.
"*Sorry*" I whispered. Again I looked down to the slightly overweight figure with blue hair, crossing its arms. I personally refused to assign a gender to it, simply on the basis that it was so androgynous it was difficult to tell if it indeed was born a female or male.
"*You made me swear in public again*" I whispered.
"No." It replied. "You made yourself swear in public, I was simply debating the intricacies of gender identity and biology, which you seem sorely under read upon."
"I *don't care* about gender politics for fuck sake. I just want to go home." I hissed.
The face of the little fat thing contorted into pure ruge.
"You *what*?!" It exclaimed.
"Here we go." Sighed The Devil, a sun chair popping out from under it. The red skinned little guy fell into the chair, sunglasses and bloody mary materialising onto its head and into its hand.
"To not care about gender politics in this day and age is incredibly irresponsible. Do you know the amount of daily struggle the trans community is going through on not just a national but **global** scale? You are in such a position of privilege with your cis-life and cis-goals and cis-mindset that you don't even think of the struggle people less fortunate than you go through."
"Of course I d-"
"And you still have yet to rebut my argument on physical gender identity and its relation to the psychological component of gender. So I assume in that regard I have w-"
"I donate to Amnesty International monthly for fuck sake, of course I give a shit I just don't think LGBT issues are the most important thing going on right n-"
"**Do NOT** finish that sentence, you cis-gendered anti-queer piece of shit."
"Yeah well fuck you too, cunt." I said.
Again, a hundred eyes looked up at me, the woman with her child got up, and stormed off, her kid tailing behind and smiling at me as they walked up the carriage.
"*You made me do it again f-"
"Did you just use the c-word to refer to me?! The vagina is a beautiful part of the human body and that word demonizes it into a disgusting pile of flesh. To refer to the single most important organ in the entire human anatomy as such a disgusting thing is so incredibly mysognistic and pig-like. I sincerely hope you die in pain for your use of that word in such a sexist fashion."
I sighed and leant back against the wall of the train. Again the feminist started blabbering on, something about clothing. The Devil jumped in and they both started squabbling.
Honestly though, I felt kinda sorry for the guy. He had the worst of it, he was supposed to be the one making me feel like shit, but instead he got stuck with this retard instead. I use that word without the whole ableist undertone, simply referring to her personal lack of intelligence. *Oh god its rhetoric has infected my psyche*.
I zoned back in at the words "Logan Paul". How the fuck had it managed to weave one of the Paul brothers into one of its monologues?
"..And his total disregard for addressing the issues at hand in-"
Christ it doesn't stop. In fact, it didn't stop yammering for five minutes, the only thing breaking my concentration from it was a train employee worming his way down the carriages, behind him was the mother from before, and behind her was the kid.
"Sir.." He said. "I'm sorry but we're going to have to ask you to step off the train at the next stop, we've been informed you've been exclaiming profanities for the last half hour."
"Oh- No, It's just-"
"What if you had tourette's syndrome?! How the fuck does he not know you have a cognitive impairment or condition that causes you to do those-"
"Hey look how fuckin' fat the mum is though." Grinned The Devil. "She looks like a-"
"Sir? Sir?"
The voices all started to swirl, the back of my head slammed into the train wall. I clutched at the sides of my head, scraping my fingernails against my scalp. *Oh god*. I thought. *Oh god please make it stop, please make it-*
"**SHUT THE FUCK UP!**" I screamed, my yells echoed throughout the entire train. A thousand bleeding stares struck my face, I felt myself blush a violent red. Behind the mother the child burst into hysterics, laughing his face off. The mum looked very cross. The two little voices on my shoulders both shut up...
"Sir." Said the transport employee. "You're going to have to step off the train."
"Yep." I sighed, bowing my head. "Alright."
/r/lalaisgay | Everyone has an angle on one side and a devil on the other. Me too! Atleast.. I think so. Since I was little I only remember the devil. It didn't talk much which is strange, because they told us in school "the devil will try to control you with his words at all times."
It's not like there is nothing on the other side. I can feel it's presence but I can't describe or see it. Maybe I'm imagining things but sometimes I see the devil glancing over and looking extremely frightened afterwards. He is a devil though so I don't really understand what he could be afraid of. Whenever I tried to ask him about my missing angle he didn't dare to answer though.
I was peacefully sleeping when someone kicked in my door, aiming a gun at me. I couldn't really understand what he saif because I fell asleep again. Atleast that's my side of the story. When I woke up, my devil pointed a finger at the ground. "We need to talk about your other half." The man that aimed a pistol at me a few moments ago had his arms and head ripped off. | |
[WP] One in every 50 teenagers has a superpower. The tests read positive, so you should have one, but you still don't know what it is, until today. | "And it vanishes when they're 20?"
"Yes, it would seem so."
"So we can't have that piggyface juggle 18 balls at the same time?"
"Yes sir, his birthday was yesterday, he can't do it anymore."
The leader of the circus sat down with a deep sigh. His co-ordinator was having a tough time convincing Jeffy to come.
"Are you even sure that it's one of the 'superpowers' that these jokers on television have been talking about?"
"Not sure sir, but I wouldn't ever think that juggling 18 chainsaws is possible."
--
~Somewhere else in the world
I hate spitting in test tubes. I actually hate spitting in general. Unlike many people who think that it's very much appropriate to eject their mouth water onto the black tar, I prefer to keep my mouth water where mouth water is supposed to be, in my mouth.
That's why when the school doctor asked my class to spit into test tubes the second time in a year, I was enraged.
Usually they wait a year, till everyone's reached 13, to take spit samples, but they decided to take TWO spit samples. The decision to do so way taken after a certain somebody got the ability to spit out fire. Hence they couldn't take a sample to scientifically prove he had superpowers or not. In the end, the doctor was fired for incorrect procedure because he wrote that he 'spat fricking fire out' and that it was 'enough to prove his abilities'. The principal disagreed, like how he disagreed on the petition to kick out Gerald for having the superpower of turning a random person around him ugly for fifteen seconds.
After causing enough of a rukus, I finally spit into the tube and let it be over with. Since my birthday last month, I showed no super power. It doesn't matter anyway.
The next day I woke up greeted by a questioning stare from my older sister. She seemed to be inspecting every inch of my face.
After insisting that she indeed still was sane, I got up and began my routine. 9th grade me wasn't too happy to find out that I, indeed had a superpower.
Apparently my sister was checking if I didn't have the same superpower as our cousin's sister in law, of growing 18 different varieties of tea on one's face. She also insisted that it takes time to actually see the sprouts of the plants rise from the skin.
I went to eat breakfast. At the table, my parents interrogated me on anything that could possible point toward a superpower. I insisted that everything was the same.
Well, that was until my dad sneezed while cooking the final pancake.
My mother, sister and I, said 'Bless you' in unison. My dad did the strangest thing ever. He smiled ear to ear for a full 10 seconds. He looked genuinely happy.
Although mom didn't notice, my elder sister did and stared. I stared too, but with a little less care than her. My sister made eye contact with me and pretend-sneezed.
I staggered in my thoughts for a second, but I caught on.
'Bless you.'
My sister hugged me. What? Could it be...?
My mother, who was also quite curious after witnessing what just happened, sneezed on purpose.
'Bless you too!'
My mother looked really happy as well. She smiled through her stressed-out face.
My family didn't say a word about it and sent me to school, expecting me to tell them exactly what happened afterward.
I went up to my best friend. Before I wished her good morning, I uttered bless you quietly. She was rolling in happy laughter for a solid minute. I smiled too. This wasn't so bad after all.
It may sound stupid, but my power was to make a person feel happy after I said 'bless you' to them.
At least I didn't get something stupid like needing to fart everytime I time travelled, or needing to pick my nose before I can transmit my thoughts through telepathy.
EDIT: Last word | I rose from my sleep-like state, looking into the eyes of the doctors before me. They were somewhat, jittery? excited. One of the nurses flounces over, she's young for a nurse - her hair bobs as she moves her way over.
"Congratulations soldier, turns out you're one of the few to pass!"
Her smile beamed, and I knew that was why she was hired. 98% of the population has... augmentations. Powers, if you will. Unfortunately, our country has been militaristic since the days of its inception - and with this discovery, tests are done on teenagers (powers first show during puberty) to determine who has them - and then they are mandated by law to join the military. Don't get me wrong, it was always really cool hearing stories of our heroes in combat - the comic books, and the movies they made about them were always box hits; huge moneymakers. I just didn't think that life was for me - I had a different plan.
"Why don't you hop down and take a walk with me?" flouncy nurse tattered on. I swung my legs over the table and rose to stand.
"I'm Sara, nice to meet you!"
"...uh, James. I'm James," I mumble back. We begin to walk down a fluorescent corridor, noticeably lacking a flicker. Sara is going on about the honor and responsibility of testing positive, I'm trying to listen, but higher on my to do list is trying not to fart. It's so clean, and sterile smelling - I'm alone in a corridor with a cute nurse - farting is out of question here.My stomach rumbles, I hold it in and we get to a set of double doors labeled testing.
"... and we've already notified your parents of your success, so you can go ahead and begin testing today so we can see exactly how special you are!" Sara positively beams, and holds the door open for me. I mumble a quick thanks, and make my way through the door. Nobody appears to be in here yet, and I exhale a sigh of relief and let out the fart I was holding - absolutely rank if you were wondering.
The first military doctor walks in, and immediately holds his nose.
"Oh, come on man. It's not that bad," I say, embarrassed. His eyes are watering and it looks like he's starting to get a rash.
The second doctor walks in, and passes out immediately. The first doctor runs out yelling something about a haz-mat. My face is burning, what a cruel joke. As I get upset, I feel my stomach rumble again... not again. Two more doctors walk in, in full Hazard gear - yellow suits, gas masks, the work. and they start to look me over. poking, prodding. very uncomfortable. and one does it. a jab right to the stomach, the second fart rolls out in all of its flatulent glory. They both pass out. Through gas masks and hazard suits.
Long story short; they quarantined me. Apparently I'm now classified as a type 4 hazardous material... my farts are literally chemical weapons. | |
[WP] One in every 50 teenagers has a superpower. The tests read positive, so you should have one, but you still don't know what it is, until today. | “Mr. and Mrs. Stevens? And you must be Craig,” the Doctor said as he shook our hands. “Craig here has tested positive for the Z chromosome, which should give him some extraordinary powers. We ran the test twice, and both times show positive. But you are saying you don’t know what they are?”
“Ye…yes,” my mother said. “Craig was tested on his fifteenth birthday two months ago, but we aren’t sure what his powers are.”
“Now, I am not making any accusations. I’m just doing my job, but is there any chance you could be hiding the truth from me and you are trying to protect Craig?”
“No. What? No. Of course not. Craig has always had a strong sense of civic duty and he…,” my dad said. “He just doesn’t know what to do.”
“Well, we have a testing facility downstairs where we can try and see what his powers might be,” the Doctor explained. “It could take minutes, hours or even days as we try and determine what it is, but we’ll get to the bottom of this.”
I sat quietly on the patient bed in my hospital gown. I want powers. I want to be able to lift a car with little effort or run incredibly fast. I just don’t like hospitals.
We took the elevator downstairs to a sort of high tech gym. There were weights and a pool and a large empty space. There were rooms with people in lab coats on computers and running tests on things.
“First, we are going to test the basics. Strength, speed, agility, flight, invulnerability, things of that nature,” the Doctor said.
After an hour or so of basic testing, nothing was found. I couldn’t lift the 500 lb bench press, I couldn’t run at super sonic speeds, I couldn’t fly, I had normal agility, pain hurts, and wounds don’t heal quickly. I couldn’t manipulate objects with my mind. I couldn’t shoot anything out of my hands, eyes, mouth. My hair was normal. My flesh was normal. I couldn’t read minds. I couldn’t change people’s minds. They even had a machine that when it zaps you, your body would go invisible if you had that powers. I couldn’t stretch or heal or create. I couldn’t fight or swim (well I could, just not at a superhero level) or walk through walls.
“We have a few more tests to run…but let’s go on a field trip first,” The Doctor said.
We went outside to the parking lot. He instructed me to try and move the rocks and the trees and the dirt. Nothing. I couldn’t manipulate the wind or the water or the weather. But…I felt something.
“What did you feel?”
“I don’t know. I feel like I am in contact with something, but I don’t know where. I feel it…over there,” I said. I looked back at the hospital. “I feel something from inside the hospital.”
We reentered the hospital, but instead of going to the underground testing facility, we went floor by floor to determine where I could feel the strongest connection.
Sub-basement level 1.
We walked in and a security guard tried to stop us.
“It’s alright, we are here on…” he stopped halfway.
He saw I was concentrating hard. And ahead of us, a naked body, wearing only a toe tag, mindlessly staggered over to us.
| I rose from my sleep-like state, looking into the eyes of the doctors before me. They were somewhat, jittery? excited. One of the nurses flounces over, she's young for a nurse - her hair bobs as she moves her way over.
"Congratulations soldier, turns out you're one of the few to pass!"
Her smile beamed, and I knew that was why she was hired. 98% of the population has... augmentations. Powers, if you will. Unfortunately, our country has been militaristic since the days of its inception - and with this discovery, tests are done on teenagers (powers first show during puberty) to determine who has them - and then they are mandated by law to join the military. Don't get me wrong, it was always really cool hearing stories of our heroes in combat - the comic books, and the movies they made about them were always box hits; huge moneymakers. I just didn't think that life was for me - I had a different plan.
"Why don't you hop down and take a walk with me?" flouncy nurse tattered on. I swung my legs over the table and rose to stand.
"I'm Sara, nice to meet you!"
"...uh, James. I'm James," I mumble back. We begin to walk down a fluorescent corridor, noticeably lacking a flicker. Sara is going on about the honor and responsibility of testing positive, I'm trying to listen, but higher on my to do list is trying not to fart. It's so clean, and sterile smelling - I'm alone in a corridor with a cute nurse - farting is out of question here.My stomach rumbles, I hold it in and we get to a set of double doors labeled testing.
"... and we've already notified your parents of your success, so you can go ahead and begin testing today so we can see exactly how special you are!" Sara positively beams, and holds the door open for me. I mumble a quick thanks, and make my way through the door. Nobody appears to be in here yet, and I exhale a sigh of relief and let out the fart I was holding - absolutely rank if you were wondering.
The first military doctor walks in, and immediately holds his nose.
"Oh, come on man. It's not that bad," I say, embarrassed. His eyes are watering and it looks like he's starting to get a rash.
The second doctor walks in, and passes out immediately. The first doctor runs out yelling something about a haz-mat. My face is burning, what a cruel joke. As I get upset, I feel my stomach rumble again... not again. Two more doctors walk in, in full Hazard gear - yellow suits, gas masks, the work. and they start to look me over. poking, prodding. very uncomfortable. and one does it. a jab right to the stomach, the second fart rolls out in all of its flatulent glory. They both pass out. Through gas masks and hazard suits.
Long story short; they quarantined me. Apparently I'm now classified as a type 4 hazardous material... my farts are literally chemical weapons. | |
[WP] One in every 50 teenagers has a superpower. The tests read positive, so you should have one, but you still don't know what it is, until today. | “Mr. and Mrs. Stevens? And you must be Craig,” the Doctor said as he shook our hands. “Craig here has tested positive for the Z chromosome, which should give him some extraordinary powers. We ran the test twice, and both times show positive. But you are saying you don’t know what they are?”
“Ye…yes,” my mother said. “Craig was tested on his fifteenth birthday two months ago, but we aren’t sure what his powers are.”
“Now, I am not making any accusations. I’m just doing my job, but is there any chance you could be hiding the truth from me and you are trying to protect Craig?”
“No. What? No. Of course not. Craig has always had a strong sense of civic duty and he…,” my dad said. “He just doesn’t know what to do.”
“Well, we have a testing facility downstairs where we can try and see what his powers might be,” the Doctor explained. “It could take minutes, hours or even days as we try and determine what it is, but we’ll get to the bottom of this.”
I sat quietly on the patient bed in my hospital gown. I want powers. I want to be able to lift a car with little effort or run incredibly fast. I just don’t like hospitals.
We took the elevator downstairs to a sort of high tech gym. There were weights and a pool and a large empty space. There were rooms with people in lab coats on computers and running tests on things.
“First, we are going to test the basics. Strength, speed, agility, flight, invulnerability, things of that nature,” the Doctor said.
After an hour or so of basic testing, nothing was found. I couldn’t lift the 500 lb bench press, I couldn’t run at super sonic speeds, I couldn’t fly, I had normal agility, pain hurts, and wounds don’t heal quickly. I couldn’t manipulate objects with my mind. I couldn’t shoot anything out of my hands, eyes, mouth. My hair was normal. My flesh was normal. I couldn’t read minds. I couldn’t change people’s minds. They even had a machine that when it zaps you, your body would go invisible if you had that powers. I couldn’t stretch or heal or create. I couldn’t fight or swim (well I could, just not at a superhero level) or walk through walls.
“We have a few more tests to run…but let’s go on a field trip first,” The Doctor said.
We went outside to the parking lot. He instructed me to try and move the rocks and the trees and the dirt. Nothing. I couldn’t manipulate the wind or the water or the weather. But…I felt something.
“What did you feel?”
“I don’t know. I feel like I am in contact with something, but I don’t know where. I feel it…over there,” I said. I looked back at the hospital. “I feel something from inside the hospital.”
We reentered the hospital, but instead of going to the underground testing facility, we went floor by floor to determine where I could feel the strongest connection.
Sub-basement level 1.
We walked in and a security guard tried to stop us.
“It’s alright, we are here on…” he stopped halfway.
He saw I was concentrating hard. And ahead of us, a naked body, wearing only a toe tag, mindlessly staggered over to us.
| "And it vanishes when they're 20?"
"Yes, it would seem so."
"So we can't have that piggyface juggle 18 balls at the same time?"
"Yes sir, his birthday was yesterday, he can't do it anymore."
The leader of the circus sat down with a deep sigh. His co-ordinator was having a tough time convincing Jeffy to come.
"Are you even sure that it's one of the 'superpowers' that these jokers on television have been talking about?"
"Not sure sir, but I wouldn't ever think that juggling 18 chainsaws is possible."
--
~Somewhere else in the world
I hate spitting in test tubes. I actually hate spitting in general. Unlike many people who think that it's very much appropriate to eject their mouth water onto the black tar, I prefer to keep my mouth water where mouth water is supposed to be, in my mouth.
That's why when the school doctor asked my class to spit into test tubes the second time in a year, I was enraged.
Usually they wait a year, till everyone's reached 13, to take spit samples, but they decided to take TWO spit samples. The decision to do so way taken after a certain somebody got the ability to spit out fire. Hence they couldn't take a sample to scientifically prove he had superpowers or not. In the end, the doctor was fired for incorrect procedure because he wrote that he 'spat fricking fire out' and that it was 'enough to prove his abilities'. The principal disagreed, like how he disagreed on the petition to kick out Gerald for having the superpower of turning a random person around him ugly for fifteen seconds.
After causing enough of a rukus, I finally spit into the tube and let it be over with. Since my birthday last month, I showed no super power. It doesn't matter anyway.
The next day I woke up greeted by a questioning stare from my older sister. She seemed to be inspecting every inch of my face.
After insisting that she indeed still was sane, I got up and began my routine. 9th grade me wasn't too happy to find out that I, indeed had a superpower.
Apparently my sister was checking if I didn't have the same superpower as our cousin's sister in law, of growing 18 different varieties of tea on one's face. She also insisted that it takes time to actually see the sprouts of the plants rise from the skin.
I went to eat breakfast. At the table, my parents interrogated me on anything that could possible point toward a superpower. I insisted that everything was the same.
Well, that was until my dad sneezed while cooking the final pancake.
My mother, sister and I, said 'Bless you' in unison. My dad did the strangest thing ever. He smiled ear to ear for a full 10 seconds. He looked genuinely happy.
Although mom didn't notice, my elder sister did and stared. I stared too, but with a little less care than her. My sister made eye contact with me and pretend-sneezed.
I staggered in my thoughts for a second, but I caught on.
'Bless you.'
My sister hugged me. What? Could it be...?
My mother, who was also quite curious after witnessing what just happened, sneezed on purpose.
'Bless you too!'
My mother looked really happy as well. She smiled through her stressed-out face.
My family didn't say a word about it and sent me to school, expecting me to tell them exactly what happened afterward.
I went up to my best friend. Before I wished her good morning, I uttered bless you quietly. She was rolling in happy laughter for a solid minute. I smiled too. This wasn't so bad after all.
It may sound stupid, but my power was to make a person feel happy after I said 'bless you' to them.
At least I didn't get something stupid like needing to fart everytime I time travelled, or needing to pick my nose before I can transmit my thoughts through telepathy.
EDIT: Last word | |
[WP] Rich Sorority Girl and Timid Teenage Boy wake up handcuffed together in the middle of a forest. She has no idea who he is; he has no explanation, but may or may not have been her stalker. An uncomfortable trek back to civilization ensues. | I woke up on the dirt ground inside the forest. I had a banging headache, but as I raised my hand to press against my forehead, something clanged. It was a pair of metal handcuffs, latched around my wrist… and the wrist of Penny, the sorority girl lying next to me, still asleep.
I couldn't believe it; it'd actually happened! The Locks of Love App that I'd downloaded yesterday really worked!
I reached into my pocket to leave a five star review, but when I took it out, the screen was smashed to pieces. Of course. I'd made the in-app purchase for the "Xtreme Isolation" upgrade. That way we wouldn't have access to phones during our "dating" period hiking back to civilization. That would defeat the purpose, after all!
Penny groaned and her eyes flickered open. I looked down at her as she stared confused at her surroundings.
"Wait… where am I?" she said, still half awake.
"Hey." I held up my wrist, bringing hers with it, and rattled the handcuffs. "Good morning."
Panic took over Penny and she shot up, instantly awake. She rose to her feet, dragging me up with her.
"What the hell is this?" she demanded. "Is this some kind of sorority pledge prank? I was supposed to be done with all that!"
"No, it's not," I said, clearing my throat. I wanted to tell her it was a date, but I couldn't get the words out of my mouth. I was too nervous.
She stared at me blankly, then started laughing. "Yeah. Okay. Whatever. We're done here." She reached into her pocket for her phone and pulled it out, but her face dropped when she saw it. Just like mine, her phone had been smashed into an unusable state.
"Huh," I said. "I only paid for *one* phone to be smashed. Guess they felt like doing yours too for free!"
The phone slipped out of her hand to the ground, and she grabbed me by the collar. "Listen to me you little twerp! You better tell me what the hell is going on here before I–"
"Your eyes are so beautiful when you're mad," I blurted out, gazing at her. She looked completely flabbergasted and let go of me.
"What?" she said.
My face burned and my stomach churned. Before I could stop, the words I'd been wanting to speak for months now came flowing out. "We had the same biology class together last semester. Remember? You were in that group with the three other kids, and you had to research Ebola. When you gave your presentation at the front of the class, it was clear that you were the only one who did any work, and you got really mad when your partners presented their poorly-researched parts. You hid it well, but your eyes were sparkling with hatred."
She stared at me dumbfounded. I continued. "I was so impressed with your work ethic. I tried to ask you out in class, but I just couldn't do it. So I went to one of the frat parties your sorority was a part of. I don't even remember what I did there except get super drunk. Lost my chance there too, obviously. So I tried this new app, have you heard of it? It's called Locks of Love. All you have to do is put in the name of somebody and then they kidnap you and lock you together and–"
"Yeah I know about it," Penny said. A smile inched across her face. "I used an app from the same company before."
Suddenly I remembered Penny's smashed phone. I hadn't ordered it to be smashed… but maybe she had! Maybe she had ordered a Locks of Love on me, and went for the upgrade too. Maybe all this time, she'd liked me back, and I'd never even known it!
"Did you use Locks of Love to set this up too?" I asked, my heart aflutter.
She lowered her gaze. A dark shadow appeared over her eyes as she kept smiling down at me. "No, I used their other app. Homicide Helper."
"W-what?" I stuttered. From behind me in the bushes I heard a rustle. A giant man in a black mask was holding a machete. Plastered onto his shirt was the Homicide Helper logo: the glove from Hamburger Helper with a menacing glare and a knife in its grasp.
"Yeah," Penny said, still staring down at me. "The company got our orders at the same time and decided to save money by carrying them out together. Makes sense, right?"
"No!" I yelled, tossing my head back and forth between her and the encroaching man. "Why are you doing this? What did I ever do to you?"
"Remember that frat party you came to?" she asked. "You got so drunk you started screaming love confessions to me nonstop. Even when the fraternity brothers threw you out, you climbed back into my room and scribbled confessions everywhere. The police had to take you away. They promised you wouldn't be a problem again, but seeing as you don't even remember any of it, I'm glad I took matters into my own hands."
"B-but, your phone!" I said. "Why is it broken?"
She waved the smashed screen in my face. "Didn't want to take any chances of you grabbing it and calling for help since you're such a big fan of confessions."
I turned back to the machete man, now standing right next to me. He spoke, his voice raspy and deep.
"How quickly did you pay for it be carried out?" he asked.
"I don't want him to suffer," Penny said. "Make it quick."
As the man reeled back the giant knife in preparation to slice through me, I only had one thought: wow, she cared enough to make sure I didn't have to go through needless pain. I love Penny. Maybe she'll go out with me some–
*SPLAT!*
*****
This prompt was written with the help of chat at the [ScottWritesStuff](https://www.reddit.com/r/ScottWritesStuff/) Twitch stream. | [**Rich Sorority Girl and Timid Teenage Boy continue along the path.
The sun has just set, and it's getting cold. We see the two of them, still tied together at the wrists, backs turned to each other, walking along the path sideways, like a crab. A Narrator speaks.**
NARRATOR: When last we saw Rich Sorority Girl and Timid Teenage Boy, they had just escaped from the clutches of their captor, a fidgety man who had planned on calling Rich Sorority Girl's father for a hefty ransom. Timid Teenage boy wasn't part of the plan, but he was watching Rich Sorority Girl through her window, and saw her get kidnapped. He came to rescue her, only to be knocked out by the captor's tire iron and taken with her. In his panic, he forgot that he left his keys within reach of the pair after he locked them in his basement and went to sleep. Now on the run, and potentially being chased by a madman, they seek refuge.
RSG: My God, why did this have to happen tonight? I was supposed to have a date with Dirk Tethers tonight and instead I'm tied to some creep-o!
TTB: (*under his breath*) No, you didn't.
RSG: *What!?* What did you just say?
TTB: Nothing, I didn't say anything.
RSG: No, I heard you. You said "No, you didn't." What do you mean?
TTB: (*sighs*) No, I mean...you didn't have a date with Dirk tonight. You told your friends you did so they'd think you're cool, but he shot you down so you were going to stay home and watch TV alone.
[**Rich Sorority Girl stops moving, and peers her head behind her to the best of her ability. Timid Teenage Boy doesn't expect her to stop, so he stops short, and they almost fall. He looks back.**]
TTB: What!?
RSG: How. The. *FUCK!?* Did you know that he "shot me down."
**[She makes quotation fingers as she says this.]**
TTB: Just...something I heard.
RSG: Oh, something you heard, huh? That's fucking weird the way you said that, and now that we're on the subject, what were you doing in front of my house?
TTB: I was, uh, going for a run and it seemed like you needed help, so...
RSG: Oh wait, now I *know* that's a lie, because you *definitely* do not run! Look, whatever, let's just keep going.
**[They both start moving again. They keep this up for a few seconds until a look of realization appears on Rich Sorority Girl's face. She stops again, same routine as last time, stop short, almost fall, you get the idea.]**
RSG: Wait a second. Wait...a *FUCKING* second. I know why you were in front of my house. And I know how you new Dirk stood me up! You've been stalking me, haven't you!?
TTB: (*panicked*) No, I just, um, it was a good guess is all, um.
RSG: (*flatly*) How long.
TTB: I don't know what you mean, uh...
RSG: *HOW LONG!?*
TTB: *THE PAST SIX MONTHS* I'm sorry I'm so sorrysorrysorryso-
RSG: You mean to tell me that you've been stalking me these past six months!? Were you looking through my window!?
TTB: Um, maybe...
RSG: Oh my God *HAVE YOU SEEN ME NAKED!?*
TTB: Um, yeah, a couple of times.
RSG: Why WHY *WHY!?*
TTB: It's just, you're the coolest, prettiest girl in the school, and you'd never talk to a guy like me, besides you just called me a creep-o.
RSG: Well, guess what? *STALKING SOMEBODY...IS SOMETHING...A CREEP-O...WOULD DO!!!*
TTB: I know I'm sorry I'm sorry please don't hate me I'm sorrysorrysor-
**[Rich Sorority Girl takes this opportunity to pick him up on his back. She's at least half a foot taller than him, so it's not too much of a challenge.
As he's sobbing and wallowing, she whacks him against the trunk of a tree and knocks him unconscious.]**
RSG: Thank Christ. The sooner I get this fucker off of me the better.
**[Rich Sorority Girl trods along, carrying an unconscious Timid Teenage Boy on her back.]**
NARRATOR: And so, we leave Rich Sorority Girl and Timid Teenage Boy, for now. Next time: We get another visitor, and he's not happy! Good night, everybody.
**[Roll credits.]**
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