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[WP] The king has ruled for 1000 years, secretly using black magic to take over the bodies of his heirs. This is only known to a select few in a dark, secretive Order. You are the next heir, and have discovered the truth. Now you're on the run, and the dying king has sent his agents after you. | There I lay, crouched in the ruins of an abandoned castle. It was raining and my clothes were soaked--I was shivering and cold. I couldn't go back home, my father, his body was ready to die and I knew the truth. Anybody within a fifty foot radius of him was subject to consumption and I don't mean cannibalism. My father was not a meat eater--a strict vegetarian. I grew up on a diet of vegetables. My journey has been filled with all sorts of wonderful experiences, eating meat for the first time was exquisite. At the old age of 1273 years, my father was seeking a new body. At his age, anyone near was liable to be a victim, he just wanted to keep power in the family. Like blowing out a candle; he could snuff the life out of one body and replace it with his own essence. The ability surfaced in random patterns among the generations.
I heard a rustle near my shelter and peered over the crumbling brick to see two men and a bloodhound. With a dog on my scent, it was only a matter of time. I sank my head into my knees and cried, there was no way out. I found myself awake on the ground, a dead dog and an equally lifeless man at my side. I was wearing different clothes and there was rough stubble on my chin. I was scared and confused, and then it hit me, this must be the power of my clan. I was being hunted for this very reason, now it was time to exact my revenge--I would be going home. | Nate wakes up in his room he is renting above an old tavern. He has wandered for a few months going from village to village. He particularly liked this hotel, it was situated on a cliff along the ocean. The sound of the waves crashing onto the cliffs helped him fall asleep. He hasn't slept well since he learned what his father has been doing for 1000 years. All those late nights and annual rituals were only to preserve his legacy. As he sat on the edge of his bed he looked out the window, the fog was especially dense this morning. He could smell the breakfast being made downstairs. The cook was an older woman who owned the tavern with her husband, Regina and Sam. Nate has stayed at this tavern for a few nights now without any incidents.
The room only has a sink and closet, the bed mattress is thin, and the walls are thin. He could hear the townspeople coming in downstairs, the alcoholics and fishermen. He got dressed and splashed cold water on his face and walked downstairs. Regina greeted shouting, "Ah good morning, Nate! Finally awake! I made you eggs."
"Good morning, Regina. You are too good to me."
"One of the early risers came in asking for you."
Nate thought to himself, "How could anyone know I am here? I haven't spoken to anyone but the owners."
"Don't worry, I did not say I knew you. I imagined you would not know anyone. Are you in trouble?"
"No, no, no. Don't worry about me. But thank you for not saying anything."
He finished eating his eggs and went back upstairs and sat on his bed again. As he was packing he heard a commotion downstairs. Regina was yelling at someone and he heard items smashing. Nate quickly shoved his things into his bag and opened the window. The people downstairs were running up the stairs shouting, "Nate! You can't get away from us forever!"
Nate leaped out of the window onto the roof of the porch then onto the ground. The men ran into the room and continued shouting.
"Fuck, how did they find me??" He pants as he runs away. He could hear them jumping down and following him down the street.
"I need to get into the woods again and lose them." He looks over his shoulder as he tries to pick up his speed. "Fuck they are catching up with me."
His father sent the dark mages of The Order to find him to take him back to steal his soul to regain his youth. This happens when any of his sons turn 20. He made his way to the tree line and ran into the woods. With every step his breathing got heavier and his heart would beat harder.
"I need to find somewhere to hide." Gasping for air between each word. He found a rock formation with some crawl spaces and crawled into there turning to be able to see the outward. He could still hear the dark mages behind him running in his direction. Nate tried to steady his breathing so they couldn't hear them. As they approached he could see a dark cloud with them. They stopped in front of the rock formation and looked around. The smoke materialized into a person. He looked harder and noticed it was his father.
"What kind of magic does he practice..."
As soon as he let out an exhale his father looked over directly at him and disappeared into smoke again. His space in the rocks filled up with smoke and suddenly everything went dark.
Nate awoke laying on a slab of rock chained down and his father standing beside him.
"You know, Nate, I care about you. But I can't give up my rule."
Nate stared at his father, oddly not afraid of him.
"I knew this day would come, when being your son would not be enough to save my life."
His father sighed. "This kingdom is more than you, this kingdom needs me."
His kingdom has been in ruin for a decade now, the citizen are warring with one another and there has not been any hope of peace.
"This kingdom needs someone other than you." Nate exclaimed, "Your people despise you. I know what you do in the shadows with your mages."
His father laughed, "Do you? Do you know what I am going to do to you?"
Nate could feel his anger growing. The past few months living with the people of the kingdom has created a deep love for the kingdom. He couldn't let the people live with his father ruling for even another 10 years.
He started to feel heat around his hands and he looked down to see his hands were glowing... | |
[WP] The king has ruled for 1000 years, secretly using black magic to take over the bodies of his heirs. This is only known to a select few in a dark, secretive Order. You are the next heir, and have discovered the truth. Now you're on the run, and the dying king has sent his agents after you. | I enter the village with caution, as I do all villages. I'm still in the Realm, several weeks travel from the safety of the Wilderlands, and there are shadows everywhere. Dangerous shadows, the kind that leap will leap from the walls and drag me back to the King. It wasn't always like this.
I remember the day my mother first told me that I was heir to the King. She was a concubine, I know now. Just another of his women tasked with producing a viable heir. She shouldn't have been crying. Who wouldn't want to be King? She told me the truth in the hushed tones of a woman silenced by paranoia. I knew she would become a woman silenced by paranoia. She told me what she knew of the Order, and how the heirs were just vessels for the King's soul. She told me of the stablehand who help arrange my escape.
The villagers greet me with guarded indifference. I'm just another passing traveler, after all. I touch the dagger sheathed beneath my coat. Its blade is black, its edge sharp enough to slice a finger with just a touch. It's not for fingers, though. It slices deeper, cutting more than just skin and flesh. My other hand wanders to the bag of coins, their incessant clinking finally silenced when I took time to wrap each one. Even the trees have ears, bloodthirsty cutthroats hidden in the foliage, ready to undo a rich man of his wealth and a poor man of his life.
I faced just one, and he made a hasty escape when I unsheathed the dagger. He glanced back as he ran, as if afraid that the black blade would hunt him down. It wouldn't, but it could. I didn't want another fight. I had had my fill. The priest hadn't expected me to fight. He had mixed the potion into my dinner, giving it an extra stir as if that would change the smell. Then he had left me to drink it. I felt for the pup I fed it to. It would put him to sleep for far longer than it would have put me to sleep. The guards had dragged my limp body to the altar, leaving me to the priest who had entered shortly after. He turned, and I struck. I stole the dagger for good measure, and it claimed three souls that day, leaving empty bodies in a catatonic state.
I glance behind me out of habit. Shadows dart, but it's just a stray cat being chased by a boy. From the windows, hungry eyes and muted lies. I was just a traveler, and they were just some villagers. "I just need to stay a night," I whisper softly, pressing enough coins into the innkeeper's hand to cover the length of my stay three times over. The inn had fallen silent when I entered. Brutish men. Filthy women. Drunks and knights. Ruffians and rebels. Men who proudly called the Realm home and that murderous beast King. Men who better belonged past the edge of the kingdom, free from the royal reach.
The castle stablehand had been good to me. The horse had been waiting as promised, and only out of desperation and foolishness had I ridden it to exhaustion. Still the shadows tracked me. I ran and I walked, I slept little and ate less. I found the kind farmer that the stablehand had told me to look for, three days ride that I did in half the time. When I awoke the next morning he was dead.
I wonder what will become of the folk in this inn. Will the shadows kill them in the night, playing games with me while the king awaits his next vessel? Or have his shadows abandoned chase? It's been two days now since I saw them last. Maybe another heir has been found. The son of another concubine. "No vacancy, friend," the innkeeper says. He presses the coins back into my hand. I give him a murderous look and he leans in close. Shadows dart across my periphery. "They're here for you. Run."
*****
Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed this, please check out more stories at /r/MatiWrites. Constructive criticism and advice are always appreciated! | It was cold. Freezing to be exact. My breath fanned out, warm compared to the winter chill. Any use of magic would alert the enemy. No matter how desperately my body yearned for heat I couldn’t conjure a flame. Not with the Order nearby. They’d begun their hunt two weeks ago.
Father wasn’t really father anymore. He hadn’t been for years. The King that sat on the thrown should have died centuries before. In reality he was an ancestor, mad with power and immortality. He ruled with an iron fist. Conquering kingdom after kingdom. His hands were covered in blood as was the rest of the royal family. Mines included.
I was next in line for the throne. The only child of the ruling King and Queen. Nothing but a tool - a body for the ancient King Abram to use. My life was not my own. It hadn’t been since I was born.
Sadness washed over me, anger too, and I curled my arms around my legs, hunched beneath a tree. The dirt was cold too like ice against the cloth sandals of my feet.
I wished I had noticed sooner when Father had changed. Maybe then I could have done something. Killed Abram while he occupied the body of grandfather perhaps. I blinked the tears away and sniffled.
Memories of the last few weeks surfaced. I had stumbled upon a hidden stairwell with one of the servant girls. A hidden passage that even I was ignorant of. That was unheard of. I’d found every single one as a child - learned them with mother and father. This one they hadn’t showed me.
We were like children scampering up the steps in excitement. It was narrow, small enough for us to walk one behind the other. Margret had smiled in astonishment. Her eyes sparkled and she clutched her simple green dress tightly in her hands.
It was a spacious room filled with papers, elixirs, all sorts of things a magic user would collect.
“This is amazing!” Margret laughed in amazement as she glanced up.
The skylight above lit the entire room. Not a cloud covered the sky, but her excitement didn’t reach me. Upon closer inspection of the tomes, candles and jarred oddities a panic began to fill me. The thrill of our new found adventure soured. Tension filled the air and Margret stiffened. She glanced around nervously, hyper aware of the objects in the room.
“Isn’t Dark Magic outlawed?” She asked.
“Yes.”
She began to sweat and paced the room, frantically Margret ranted, eyes shifting to the shut wooden door warily. The large book on the center of the table distracted me from her sudden panic. My eyes widened the more I read and swallowing, breathing became difficult. The hairs upon my neck rose and Margret hissed in panic.
“This is a spell-“
“Someone’s coming!”
“-for the King to continue his rule. Our King isn’t who we think he is...”
“Prince Harry!”
I glanced up just in time to see a soldier dressed in all black armor slam into the wooden door. I reacted too slow, light magic fired from my hands but not before he’d gotten to Margret first. A hood shrouded his features and the gleam of a sharp sword cut through the air just as a scream tore pass the young woman’s lips. She dropped to the ground dead and the soldier was thrown back, a yellow energy slammed into his chest and back down the stairwell.
I dashed towards the open window, past the blue silk curtains and out of the castle. It was a far drop one that I’d landed with difficulty, even with magic on my side the fall that would have killed me left me with a sprained ankle. An easy fix.
That was how I had gotten myself stuck in the woods in the dead of night, cold and unsheltered with just a dagger on my hip. Lucky for me there was just one Order guard that day. Now there was entire squad, perhaps more, trying to drag me back. Abram would see to it that my body was his to prolong his life. As if 1000 years hadn’t been enough.
His reign would end. I had found my goal. I was tired of running, hiding like a rat. The Order couldn’t kill me nor cause serious injury. I was the only heir. The King’s only chance to continue his endless bloody reign.
The bushes rustled nearby and I crouched low, fingers tight against my weapon. I would strike before they could. What I lacked in strength I made up for in speed and light magic. I would be the one to stop this Order and our so called King. | |
[deleted] | [WP] You’re in a cage. You’re not sure how long you’ve been there or why. But you’ve been in there so long you’ve forgotten who you are. One thing is for sure, you don’t age. . One day a girl comes, opens and let’s you out. She says to follow her. You’re overwhelmed with an urge to protect her. | Sorry if the formatting is terrible. Writing this on mobile and my first time using trying out stuff like italics and bold on reddit.
How long is eternity? It feels like I've been here for quite a few of them. Or have I only just gotten here? I.... I'm not sure anymore.
I know my cage well, it's small enough that I can't stand or lie down comfortably. I've counted every stone that makes it's walls, and even named them too.
"*You know you're crazy right?*"
That's Jerry, a rather small stone that sticks painfully out of the bottom of my cage. I don't like Jerry. He makes it hurt to lie down.
"Shut up Jerry."
"**Do you even remember Drayle? What about Gretta and the Grey Knights?**"
I groan when I hear Davy, he's a slightly larger stone who makes up an upper corner of my cage. He likes to make up stories of people I've never heard of and places that don't exist. I don't like him either.
"You know none of that's real, there isn't anything outside of this cage."
"*Or you've lost your mind and simply forgot about all of them.*"
"**How could you forget about the war? About your oath? Abo-**"
"SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP!!!" I scream and bang my head against Sabrina and Charles. They always help me to drown out Jerry and Davy's voices. I like Sabrina and Charles.
"Hello is someone there?"
I pause, that's not a voice I heard before. Is there a new stone in my cage? Has a bug crawled in again to torment me? To torment me with lies about the outside world?
"Can you hear me? Say something!"
It's different than the other voices. It was softer before, but now the voice is louder, and it sounds like it's coming from...
"*The voice is coming from outside. It sounds like a woman.*"
I scream at Jerry, "SHUT UP SHUT UP IT'S NOT REAL!"
"I can hear you keep talking! Don't stop!"
The new voice is even louder now. Almost like it's getting closer. I jump when the door start shaking and making banging sounds.
"Hello? Are you in there? There's so many cells I can't tell which one you're in! Please say something!"
I'm frozen. This is impossible. There's nothing outside my cage, if there was I'd remember it.
"**But you can't remember can you? Your daughter? Your crimes? Your name?**"
I scream again but this time there are no words, only pure unfiltered rage at Davy, at Jerry, at this new voice that CAN'T be real. I start banging my head against Sabrina and Charles to make it all stop.
"I'm opening the door, please if you have a blessing don't use it I just want to help."
And just like that the door to my cage opens and my whole world crumbles. Something impossible stands there, a girl "*a woman*," stands at the entrance to my cage and stares down at my hunched form. Dark red hair frames a face more beautiful than any of the stones in my cage and eyes a brighter green than the most colorful beetle bore into my soul. I am frozen in place.
"**She looks like Gretta**"
I don't shout at Davy this time. I don't know why but, this girl "*WOMAN*" makes me feel nostalgic.
"Are you Sir Klein?"
Something deep inside my soul stirs, I think I've felt this before but I can't remember when.
"Hello? Can you understand me? Gods how long have you been down here."
I must protect her, at least until I know what this feeling is.
"**You shouldn't leave. You don't deserve to leave**"
"I guess you'll have to do, take my hand you're coming with me."
"*Do it, you can finally get out of this hell. Finally be free*"
"**Stop. You don't deserve freedom. You belong here in this cage.**"
I turn and look at Davy and Jerry, at Sabrina and Charles, at Betsy and Lucas. I know they're real. I know this cage is real. But could there be more out there? How much of what Davy and Jerry have told me is true?
"*All of it*"
I shake my head, I'll prove them both wrong. This girl must be a hallucination, or at least some kind of trick. If I can prove that then maybe that finally shut those two up. I take the girls hand, look into her face, and say
"Then let's get out of here." | The first ray of light I'd seen in ages greeted me alongside the shrill creak of a door I never knew was there. It was as if a portion of the wall was cleanly cut off.
I instinctively shielded my eyes with a hairy arm, but I simultaneously wanted to investigate the new event.
A feminine voiced called out through the blinding light.
"Mr. Clayton."
I tried to laugh, but my voice had disappeared long ago. With my eyes shut tight, I sprang to my feet and ran towards the brightness, my arms outstretched and trying to grab at whoever it was who spoke.
I felt a hand unlike anything I recognized restrain me by my wrist. It was cold and its grasp was solid, yet it was much less rough than the only calloused hands I've been able to touch for who knows how long.
She spoke again. "Please come with me."
With her grip still firmly around my arm, she slowly guided me through the light. My bare feet repeatedly hit the tough, smooth floor as I walked. I wished that I could tell her about the joy I felt. Having somebody free me to guide me through the eye-melting shine made me shake with emotion.
Already used to incredibly long waits, I was prepared for the walk to take a while. But before I could fully settle in the trail's environment, we arrived at our destination.
She sat me down on a material as hard and as my cage's walls, but somehow less harsh and more welcoming. The hand around my wrist was released and replaced with two more similar-feeling hands. I could feel a comparable limb wrap around my head as well.
I had so many questions, but with my voice missing, I could not ask them. I did not try to open my eyes, as I feared the light would destroy them. I did not try to move, as I feared upsetting my savior.
But above all, I was happy. |
[WP] Hell needs a new receptionist and your resume matches perfectly. When you start, you find Satan crying in his office. Since no one else is around he confides in you. Apparently, god is THE WORST manager. | I opened the door to see a muscular, lion-maned man hunched over an undersized wooden desk, positively sobbing in anguish. I immediately closed the door, and felt a twinge of pity.
*Should I go inside?,* I asked myself. *He's my boss, after all.*
*Fuck it,* I concluded. *First impressions are vital, I'm going for it.*
With a small sigh, I opened the door, which squeaked slightly as the hinges opened. I was face to face with my new boss. His face was of a fiery complexion, his eyebrows thick and his eyes wrapped in a perpetual scowl. Tears streamed down his face, which made it an odd sight even among the anomalies I had seen working as an Underworld receptionist.
"Um, hi." I began, lamely. "I'm your new receptionist? My office is right outside and I heard some noises, so..."
His face suddenly expressive, he leaped into action, grabbing a nearby copy of LaVey to shield his tear-soaked visage.
"Don't look at me," he sobbed, flapping the book in front of him like a fan. "Not like this, not like this."
I attempted to grasp at something, anything, that would be a nice foray into a less awkward situation.
"Uh. Nice weather outside, right?" I said, piercing the silence. I immediately wanted to kick myself.
*Nice weather outside!? You dweeb, you're talking to Satan!*
He craned his neck past the book and turned his face away from me, opening the blinds with his unoccupied hand. He peered through the cracks, and proceeded to cry even harder, putting his head down and tossing the book onto the bean-bag in the corner of the room.
*Shit. Nice going, Laura.*
"Hey, Mr. Satan, w...would you like to talk? About something?" I asked in a half-sigh, a tiny part of me hoping he would say no.
He put his head up momentarily.
"Close the door!" he whispered. I obliged, letting it shut behind me with another squeal of protest from the hinges.
"Laura, right?" he began, beckoning to the bean-bag. I grabbed the *Satanic Bible* that he had thrown and put it down lightly on his desk, and answered his question.
"Yes, I'm Laura Bellworth, receptionist and," I continued, proudly. "Demonologist-in-training."
He clapped his hands together in obvious delight.
"A Demonologist? How wonderful, we'll have so, so much to talk about. Oh, I remember the days-- when I was just..." his lips began to quiver. "Just a young demonologist, looking forward to exorcisms! Oh, how I wish I could go back to those days."
Breaking out into more sobs, I sat there awkwardly once again. Though I was happy that he was more approachable than I'd assumed.
"Um... Lord Satan, is something making you upset?" I asked, hoping to change the course of the "discussion".
He sat up again, and scowled, this time for real. My God, was it scary. His yellow eyes twinged with annoyance, the slits of his snake-like nostrils flared.
*Well, it's been a fun life. See you all later.*
"It's that piece of shit hypocritical little pansy, God." he spat, bringing his veiny forearms up and then down on the small desk. "Or whatever you want to call him. YHVH, Demiurge, who the hell cares at this point."
He grabbed the *Satanic Bible* and aimed it at the window.
'Whoa, whoa, Lord Satan, let's talk about it instead. No need to throw out a perfectly good work of fiction." I reasoned, while cowering against the back wall all the same.
He sighed, and put the book down.
*Thank God, er... thank Satan.*
"Okay. Sorry, Miss Bellworth. It's just that he's the worst manager anyone could possibly imagine. He's rude, hypocritical, expects me to stay awake for centuries on end without a single vacation, and an attention whore! I know you've been to Earth-- tell me, are there any statues of me, anywhere? Of the real me? No, yet God and his favorite son are everywhere." he made a grand gesture with his arms, before turning back to me unperturbed. "He's a terrible boss, a terrible being, and a terrible father!"
*Oh yeah, I forgot about that. God really doesn't mention his other son that often, does he.*
"Besides that," he continued, "I just wanted three days of extra vacation. Three days. This was after he rejected my twenty-seven statue ideas, respectful ways they could integrate me into human artwork, and whatnot. It's so fucking unfair."
He took a deep breath, bring his arm in front of him.
"Zen..." he repeated. "Zen...zen...zen..."
"Uh... wow. That's quite the predicament you have there. Really, have you tried just marching up to your father- I mean, God, and telling you all of this?" I asked.
*Stupid, Laura. That was stupid. He'd literally be murdered, that's what would happen.*
He pondered for a moment, breathing heavily.
"You know... that's a great idea! I'd never thought to do it, but now I realize that I deserve this." he nodded. "Yeah, I deserve this, I do. I deserve this!"
He stood up. " I'm going to tell him about how much of an attention whore and a fucking garbage father he is!"
I balked, my tongue attempting to spit out the right words.
"Um... Lord Satan, I may have been a bit hasty, that might not be the best--"
"Nonsense," he bellowed. "Okay, you have to say, 'you go girl', right now. Say it, that's my first order of business."
I wanted to curl up into a little ball at the moment.
"You go girl?"
"Hell yes, I do."
He pulled the door open, and strode out, a threnody of wailing from the hinges in his wake, as I sat on the mauve bean-bag, wondering what I had just done.
*I'm so fucking screwed.*
*I may have gotten Satan fired.*
\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------r/bluelizardK | I have no idea why I’m here.
In hell, anyway. I know why I died. Unironically trying to make out with a shop vac wasn’t the best of plans. I tell everyone I died of loneliness. It’s a half-truth.
But the red stones vibrating with the ringing cries of tormented souls. The flickering oil fires that burst from every cauldron. The new red tail and curved horns that accompany this delightful gigantic fork. I was a teacher, so why the hell did I end up here?
A hushed rumbling is coming from the big man’s room. Bad ol’ Satan himself. I poked my head in, a teacherly instinct that. And quickly withdraw it at the sight of Satan sucking on his thumb, tears streaming down his face.
Be cool. You didn’t see anything. Puppies. Brick walls. Definitely not Satan cry—
“Jerrod, get in here.” The walls shook with the low growl. I leapt to my feet, rushing inside.
He had removed his thumb at least. But glistening wetness marked the river of tears that had been brushed away. He jerked a red thumb at me, its nail filed to a point.
“Sit,” he said.
My limbs moved of their own accord, forcing my lanky legs to cross. I sat.
He stared at me, brows furrowed.
“You know I can read your every thought?” he said.
“Nossir,” I replied.
“Did you not get a copy of the employee’s manual?”
My blank stare was enough.
“Bless those sons of married woman,” Satan cursed. “Leave it to them to fuck up the latest hire.”
“Sir?”
“You know anything about active listening?”
“Hell no, sir,” I said.
“Thank me,” he said. “I’ve had about enough of that wishy-washy shit. Grab a chair, son, plant yourself in it, and listen if you want. God’s about to get an earful.”
*I* *heard* *that.*
“That’s the entire fucking point!” Satan said, shaking his fist at the stone ceiling.
A breath rattled out of my chest. I don’t deserve this torment.
_____________________________________________________
Thanks for reading! Check out [r/smoothbaritone](https://www.reddit.com/r/smoothbaritone/) for more! | |
[WP] Hell needs a new receptionist and your resume matches perfectly. When you start, you find Satan crying in his office. Since no one else is around he confides in you. Apparently, god is THE WORST manager. | I opened the door to see a muscular, lion-maned man hunched over an undersized wooden desk, positively sobbing in anguish. I immediately closed the door, and felt a twinge of pity.
*Should I go inside?,* I asked myself. *He's my boss, after all.*
*Fuck it,* I concluded. *First impressions are vital, I'm going for it.*
With a small sigh, I opened the door, which squeaked slightly as the hinges opened. I was face to face with my new boss. His face was of a fiery complexion, his eyebrows thick and his eyes wrapped in a perpetual scowl. Tears streamed down his face, which made it an odd sight even among the anomalies I had seen working as an Underworld receptionist.
"Um, hi." I began, lamely. "I'm your new receptionist? My office is right outside and I heard some noises, so..."
His face suddenly expressive, he leaped into action, grabbing a nearby copy of LaVey to shield his tear-soaked visage.
"Don't look at me," he sobbed, flapping the book in front of him like a fan. "Not like this, not like this."
I attempted to grasp at something, anything, that would be a nice foray into a less awkward situation.
"Uh. Nice weather outside, right?" I said, piercing the silence. I immediately wanted to kick myself.
*Nice weather outside!? You dweeb, you're talking to Satan!*
He craned his neck past the book and turned his face away from me, opening the blinds with his unoccupied hand. He peered through the cracks, and proceeded to cry even harder, putting his head down and tossing the book onto the bean-bag in the corner of the room.
*Shit. Nice going, Laura.*
"Hey, Mr. Satan, w...would you like to talk? About something?" I asked in a half-sigh, a tiny part of me hoping he would say no.
He put his head up momentarily.
"Close the door!" he whispered. I obliged, letting it shut behind me with another squeal of protest from the hinges.
"Laura, right?" he began, beckoning to the bean-bag. I grabbed the *Satanic Bible* that he had thrown and put it down lightly on his desk, and answered his question.
"Yes, I'm Laura Bellworth, receptionist and," I continued, proudly. "Demonologist-in-training."
He clapped his hands together in obvious delight.
"A Demonologist? How wonderful, we'll have so, so much to talk about. Oh, I remember the days-- when I was just..." his lips began to quiver. "Just a young demonologist, looking forward to exorcisms! Oh, how I wish I could go back to those days."
Breaking out into more sobs, I sat there awkwardly once again. Though I was happy that he was more approachable than I'd assumed.
"Um... Lord Satan, is something making you upset?" I asked, hoping to change the course of the "discussion".
He sat up again, and scowled, this time for real. My God, was it scary. His yellow eyes twinged with annoyance, the slits of his snake-like nostrils flared.
*Well, it's been a fun life. See you all later.*
"It's that piece of shit hypocritical little pansy, God." he spat, bringing his veiny forearms up and then down on the small desk. "Or whatever you want to call him. YHVH, Demiurge, who the hell cares at this point."
He grabbed the *Satanic Bible* and aimed it at the window.
'Whoa, whoa, Lord Satan, let's talk about it instead. No need to throw out a perfectly good work of fiction." I reasoned, while cowering against the back wall all the same.
He sighed, and put the book down.
*Thank God, er... thank Satan.*
"Okay. Sorry, Miss Bellworth. It's just that he's the worst manager anyone could possibly imagine. He's rude, hypocritical, expects me to stay awake for centuries on end without a single vacation, and an attention whore! I know you've been to Earth-- tell me, are there any statues of me, anywhere? Of the real me? No, yet God and his favorite son are everywhere." he made a grand gesture with his arms, before turning back to me unperturbed. "He's a terrible boss, a terrible being, and a terrible father!"
*Oh yeah, I forgot about that. God really doesn't mention his other son that often, does he.*
"Besides that," he continued, "I just wanted three days of extra vacation. Three days. This was after he rejected my twenty-seven statue ideas, respectful ways they could integrate me into human artwork, and whatnot. It's so fucking unfair."
He took a deep breath, bring his arm in front of him.
"Zen..." he repeated. "Zen...zen...zen..."
"Uh... wow. That's quite the predicament you have there. Really, have you tried just marching up to your father- I mean, God, and telling you all of this?" I asked.
*Stupid, Laura. That was stupid. He'd literally be murdered, that's what would happen.*
He pondered for a moment, breathing heavily.
"You know... that's a great idea! I'd never thought to do it, but now I realize that I deserve this." he nodded. "Yeah, I deserve this, I do. I deserve this!"
He stood up. " I'm going to tell him about how much of an attention whore and a fucking garbage father he is!"
I balked, my tongue attempting to spit out the right words.
"Um... Lord Satan, I may have been a bit hasty, that might not be the best--"
"Nonsense," he bellowed. "Okay, you have to say, 'you go girl', right now. Say it, that's my first order of business."
I wanted to curl up into a little ball at the moment.
"You go girl?"
"Hell yes, I do."
He pulled the door open, and strode out, a threnody of wailing from the hinges in his wake, as I sat on the mauve bean-bag, wondering what I had just done.
*I'm so fucking screwed.*
*I may have gotten Satan fired.*
\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------r/bluelizardK | Nothing stays original forever. Not even sin. Out of the corner of my eye, I see a new soul drop down from the cavern ceiling, which snaps shut after them. They fall a few hundred feet am break every bone in their body on landing. "Hey boss, I gotta go," I say, eyeing our new naked guest now dragging themselves across shards of broken glass on the floor of hell, otherwise known as my 9 to 5.
"Don't go," moans Satan, crying over my shoulder, "one more glass of wine..."
"I really have to go," I say, gently pushing the devil away. There are burn marks in my uniform where his flaming tears had fallen. "Don't worry, I'll come back as soon as this sinner is all situated." I leap over to the reception desk, pick up a pitchfork, and hurl it at the newly-damned soul. "Welcome to hell, you miserable worm!" I screech.
Look, it's not the most glamorous job, but it pays the bills. I just wish my boss wasn't so needy.
Ring, ring!
What the Hell? I guess i got carried away thinking and didnt notice the new sinner waiting to be helped.
"Hey," the sinner nervously chuckled, "I'm sure you hear this all the time, but I think I'm in the wrong place."
"Oh yeah?" I said looking at what I thought was a lost soul, damned for all eternity, but I was wrong. So wrong.
The first clue that they actually were in the wrong place was the glowing halo above their head.
"Er, well, yes. I think I took too many lefts in Limbo, and I ended up... Well, quite honestly, I'm lost! I'm lost, and i am definitely late for the Divine Initiation. Oh, man. God will be so disappointed in me..."
"GOD!?" Satan screeched from his office.
Oh, Hell. Just what I needed. Now Satan's gonna have a second round of crying on my shoulder now that this idiiot ended up here. How could an angel be so stupid to not know when they're in Hell? This job was supposed to keep me away from torture!
Wait. In this moment, I had an idea.
Quickly, I put a finger to my lips to tell the angel to keep quiet.
"Oh, boss," I called over my shoulder, "I have something for you!"
Satan appeared in a flourish of fire and kidney stones, as he was trying out new tricks, and as he lay eyes upon the angel, his frown turned upside down. | |
[WP] You accidentally dial an extra '+' when calling a friend in another country. You hear a message from the operator saying "wrong planet code, please try again" | "Call me, remember to use the extra Plus sign to reach Venice!" my friend Zain shouted as he waved goodbye. Then, he went in the taxi.
"I'll remember," I waved back. Oh shoot, an extra Plus sign? Why can't everyone in this planet have a phone number with the same number of digits? Despite being a millennial, I ain't what you call, phone-savvy. But, really. There's so many apps out there: Facebook, Twitter, WhatsApp. And there are different ones in other countries! Sigh, glad I have Yahoo Answers.
Few days later, I decided it's the best time to check up on him. Ok, let's dial. Plus sign. 3. 9. 9. Rest of his number. Then, the robo-operator buzzed, "BEEP BOOP BOP! Wrong planet code, please try again."
Hold on, wrong planet code? What the hell does that mean? Quickly, I scroll through my recent call history and selected that number again. "BEEP BOOP BOP! Wrong planet code, please try again."
Gulp, aliens are real. Wait, I have a recorder app. Thank God for smartphones. I press the recording button and redialed the same number. While doing so, I started my laptop to check Yahoo Answers. Is 399 a planet code? No answer.
But, this time someone answered, "Yo! What's up bro?"
"Wait, Zain-" I stammered.
"Yeah man! Sorry my phone number wasn't working. My phone company just finished fixing that issue. How's it going?"
"DUDE, you won't believe what happen!" I huffed. "I called your phone number and it said, 'wrong planet code.' Can you believe that?"
"Yeah man! I believe you. I just told you-"
"No, I'm being serious! It's like there's a number to call aliens. I tried using Yahoo Answers to find out if 399 is a Planet Code to something."
"Haha, you use Yahoo Answers! Dude, aliens made Google for a reason." he chuckled. Sigh, he must think I'm stupid.
"Ok ok, maybe it's my imagination. How's it going in Italy?" I grumbled.
"I'm not in Italy," he responded. Ok, now I'm crazy.
"You said you were going to Venice?"
Pause.
"Bro, I said I was going to Venus. As in my home planet. Didn't I tell you that?" | I had a LOT to discuss with my best friend back home in Nepal. "Please pick!" I thought pressing into my phone: ++977 983095286. Dial.
"Ugh! Why does it always happen when I'm in such a hurry!" I wailed as I realized, too late, that I had put in an extra '+' in the phone number. A single tone went out anyway. That surprised me.
Immediately after, I heard an automated voice on the other side. Strange. It said "Sorry, the planet code you dialed is incorrect. Please check your input and try again." *disconnect tone*
"Wait, what was that?" I was wondering aloud. Before I could process my thoughts, I received a call. It was an unknown number. I ignored it. As soon as that call stopped, I noticed another incoming call. From another unknown number. Suddenly terrified, I shut my phone down. I removed its battery for good measure.
It didn't really help. I hadn't really expected it to. In under a minute, I could hear sirens. A team of armed men surrounded my building. They called my name over a megaphone. "Fuck!" I thought. I went and opened the door. "Wha-" I started, but was cut off by two of the men grabbing me by either arm and saying, "This is about the safety of humankind, ma'am. You will remain unharmed if you cooperate."
I still hadn't had the time to process anything. I walked behind them to one of their cars.
​
"Ok, miss, what exactly were you trying to accomplish with that call?" The guy in the driver's seat asked me. Confused, I took a deep breath. "Can I have a moment to calm down?"
"Of course, miss, would you like some water?" I nodded. A glass of water pushed up from underneath the sliding panel in the dashboard. I took a sip, and then a slow gulp. This didn't even taste like normal water. It was already calming me down.
Once my breathing became more normal again, he asked me once more, "Tell us the truth and nothing will come of it. You will be able to forget it as a nightmare."
"It was a mistake," I said. The guy almost ran a red light while looking at me in shock. "You can't *really* be saying that?!"
"But it was. I was trying to dial my best friend in another country, and mistakenly put in an extra '+' sign at the beginning. It really was a mistake."
"Damnit!" I heard someone curse from the back.
"So you're telling me that the interplanetary communication systems are so weak that you dialed a seemingly universal number: by mistake?"
"Yes? I guess that's what happened."
"Well, I think you now believe in aliens?"
"That. Or we colonized a planet or maybe more; without it being known to the general public."
"Don't you want to know more, miss?"
"Honestly, I kinda do want to know more, but I also feel like the more I know, the less likely I am to get out of this nightmare alive. I do value my life over the findings of alien life or interplanetary communications, I have two kids, you know. I'm a single mom."
"You're already in too deep to get out of here now. If the communications team find you both harmless and useful, you will be allowed to take on a new identity and live with your kids. If not, you will be admitted into a psych ward and your children will be taken away."
"On what grounds will you send me to the psych ward?" That was ridiculous. I have never shown any sign of mental instability, they couldn't put me there, could they?
"You see miss, the sirens, the megaphones, the talk you had with me...nobody saw it or heard it except you. I made sure there were at least two neighbors watching you talk to yourself, and struggle alone on your way to my car. Do you remember where my car was when you got in?"
I remembered. It had been in a slightly secluded place. Nobody would have seen me get in this car. I sighed in an acceptance of defeat. I was cornered.
"Ok, so tell me what I need to know to live and have my kids with me."
​
​
*new part in progress* | |
[WP] Apparently there is FIERCE competition among exactoknife companies. One company has managed to make a knife so sharp that it can effortlessly cut fabric, paper, hair, and... atoms? | "Don't... Move." I breathed, the words a whisper into the comms, a whisper I feared would kill us where we stood.
"My god." The engineer on the observation deck's voice came through. "It's a perfect edge. Shit, shit, shit. What do we do?"
"Everyone out of the room as slowly as you can." My manager's voice too was lowered, wavering and terrified.
Thankfully, the automations worked. The moment the AI detected what had happened, the whole room had ground to a halt instantly. On our huds, the offending knife was painted an ominous red, warnings and instructions already feeding through to the display. On each of our wrists, the biomech controllers were already pumping sedatives to counteract the fight or flight response that had well and truly begun to kick in now.
We'd trained for this. The possibility had always existed.
"Containment is already en route. ETA twenty seconds. I don't need to tell any of you what happens if you so much as breathe too close to that knife."
Suddenly I was immensely thankful for the lack of air conditioning that had made my life a hell the past twelve years.
Slowly, the two other engineers and I drew backwards towards the door. One millimetre at the time and assisted by the soothing cocktail of drugs now flowing through our systems, we inched ourselves away from the knife of almost certain death.
A flash in my peripheral. Steve's lab coat had caught his foot.
"SHIT, he's going to f-"
Nothingness. | "So precise it can cut an atom", that's how precise I told the workers to make the new knife; I was only joking and hoped that they would just make a good quality knife, so that it would sell better. So you can imagine my surprise when I got the news that an explosion with the power of an atomic bomb had blown up the factory. Luckily for me, the workers had uploaded the schematics for said knife to the company database.
Soon enough, countries from all over the world were asking to buy a few of our Atomic Knifes, (patent pending), because they were discrete instant detonation nukes. This, of course, was somewhat of an issue, as we were just an exactoknife company, and as such, had no idea who to trade with. I mean, we trade with the wrong people and the world blows up.
In the end, only one atomic knife was ever produced and put up for sale, and I decided that it would be random who got it, so I put it up for bid on EBay. One week later, Elon Musk personally showed up to receive it, (MrBeast came second); he even offered to buy the blueprints for it, but I refused out of morality.
One week later I reconsidered and sold it to him for one billion dollars, making Tesla a nuclear weapons producer. | |
[WP] Ever since you were 15, you wake up holding 5 random magical cards you can use to help you with your life. Today‘s cards are "Spider Climb for 1 Hour", "Turn Into a Hawk for 30 Minutes", "Infinite Stamina for 3 Hours", "Revive a Dead", and "Summon a Rat Swarm“. | Morgan stretched her arms upward and used the action to lift herself to a sitting position in bed. The 18-year old woman yawned and rested her back against the headboard, then finally checked her cards. It took her almost three months after her 15th birthday to get used to the fact that she woke up with an assortment of cards. She splayed the five cards in her hand and flipped them over to check the backs, then sighed. She'd woken with a wide variety of cards over the past few years, but she narrowed them down into categories sorted by the artwork on the back.
"Druid and Healer," she mumbled. She saw three green cards with elegant linework that made her think of a dense forest, and two white cards with red crosses on them. "Boring," Morgan rearranged them by group, then turned them over to see what they were. The druid cards on the right side sparkled with golden text on a forest-green background. Each card showed different artwork illustrating the general concept of the card.
"Spider Climb, Hawk Form, and Rat Swarm," she read the names and glanced at the rule text on the lower half of the cards. She shrugged at the duration then looked at the two healer cards. They had no artwork and consisted of red text on a clean white background that reminded Morgan of a hospital. "Handy," she smiled at the pair of cards. "Infinite Stamina and Revive Death, whoa!" It was the first time she'd seen the Revive Death card. Seeing the new card invigorated her. She was starting to think she had seen all the cards already. Suddenly excited about her day, Morgan hopped out of bed to get ready.
When it became clear the cards would keep appearing, Morgan assumed the cards were meant to guide her day somehow. She tried to find uses for the cards to make sure she used them all every day, but over time it became clear they were entirely random. If the Revive card appeared when she was 15 or 16, she would have been worried sick the entire day.
"I guess I'm going to the park," she decided while showering. The park had several rock-climbing walls and a giant jogging track around it that passed some very scenic views. She'd used both Spider Climb and Infinite Stamina several times to get a good workout, but this would be the first time she got to use them together.
An hour later she arrived at the park and headed straight for the rock climbing walls. Twelve walls of varying heights lined a broad cobblestone path; six on each side. Morgan stood in front of the tallest wall and pulled the cards out of her pocket. She did not bother with being discrete, it never mattered before.
It was a sunny, cool Saturday morning and plenty of visitors milled around the park. Dozens of joggers and others simply taking a stroll walked along the path in different directions behind her.
"Infinite Stamina!" a deep, booming, male voice spoke when Morgan 'played' her first card. She didn't know where the voice came from, but she knew she was the only one that could hear it. She used cards several times in front of her parents, friends, and in public, and no one ever seemed to notice the voice. When the voice spoke she felt a tingle travel down her spine, then radiate out into the rest of her body. "Spider Climb!" the voice said when she used the second card. She returned the rest of the cards to her pocket, then shook her hands and legs to loosen them up and took a step forward to start her climb.
"You're wasting cards on a *wall*?" a girl asked as Morgan reached for her first grip. She pulled her arm down and turned to face the voice. A young girl in a blood-red hoodie smiled at her. "Don't you want something more challenging?" she asked Morgan.
"Wh-what?" Morgan asked. "What are you talking about?" She knew what the girl was talking about, but she wondered what exactly the girl knew about the cards.
"It's kind of overkill, isn't it?" the girl in the hoodie shrugged. "I mean, unless you *need* infinite stamina and spider climb to get up the wall," she gave Morgan an appraising look up and down. "I don't think you do."
"You..heard,-" Morgan started to ask but changed her question. The girl obviously heard the card names. "Why aren't you surprised?" she asked. The girl shrugged.
"What's surprising? Card Mage is pretty much the de facto class for Manos," she said.
"Wh-what?" Morgan needed to ask again. She didn't understand any of the words in that context.
"#21, La Mano? Your abilities fit perfectly with the Card Mage class."
"How'd you know my favorite number? What's a Card Mage?" The girl's eyes widened and she giggled.
"Now *that* is a surprise. You don't know what you are or where you are?" she asked. "Does 'The AlterNet' sound familiar?" she added when Morgan didn't respond right away. Morgan shook her head.
"Whoa...," the girl replied, then she stuck her hand out. "I'm Cherry," she said. Morgan shook the girl's hand tentatively.
"Morgan," she introduced herself.
"How'd you like to do something more fun with your cards?" Cherry asked.
"Like what?'
"Roller Derby," Cherry grinned.
\*\*\*
Thank you for reading! I’m responding to prompts every day. This is year two, story #300. You can find all my stories collected on my subreddit ([r/hugoverse](https://www.reddit.com/r/hugoverse/)) or my blog. If you're curious about my universe (the Hugoverse) you can visit the Guidebook to see what's what and who's who, or the Timeline to find the stories in order. | When the cards first started appearing, I had no idea what they were. The day I turned 15, I stumbled out of bed with 5 cards in the palm of my hand. At first I thought it was some kind of weird card game, but things took a very sudden turn.
“Summon a demon for 5 minutes? What crap is this!?”
(And that’s how I accidentally unleashed a creature of mass destruction upon my home...)
This morning - on my 21st birthday - I took a long glance at the selection of cards I had received. Nothing unusual, the typical type of thing I would obtain any other day. After getting dressed, I noticed something very peculiar indeed.
“What the hell?”
A large, demonic-looking tower stood menacingly outside of my window. Immediately, I barged out of my front door to take a closer look. It wasn’t natural. It couldn’t of been anything good. Suddenly I remembered the cards.
“SPIDER CLIMB!”
Before I could blink, I was thrown through the air, with a 10 foot spider forming underneath me. With a thud, I mounted the beast, and began my struggle up the tower.
It took several minute to reach the top, even with the spiders great speed. The cards affect had expired, but luckily I managed to hold on to the top of building with my fingertips. I pulled myself up, and took a good look at my surroundings.
A dark figure stood silently in the centre of the platform. But what was that in his hand?...
He looked up at me with the most stern expression I had ever seen.
“Die. GIANTS STRENGTH!”
When I realised it, it was already too late. He also had gained the power of the cards.
A mighty swing, launched me down to the streets below...
“TURN INTO A HAWK!”
I screamed with every last bit of oxygen in my lungs.
Suddenly my body began to shift and morph. Wings sprang from my sides, and my nose became a beak
“SQUARK!, SQUARK!”
I flew upwards towards my opponent, launching my beak to his chest.
“GURRRHHHHHHHHH!!!” The man screamed, tumbling backwards.
Blood rippled from his mouth, as he drew another card.
“TELEPORTATION!!”
A furry of blows hit me from every direction. He must of been using one of his cards to teleport around me. I was forced to return to a human state
“INFINITE STAMINA!”
A blur of punches and kicks filled the sky as we battled onwards. After an hour his teleportation finally ran out.
Time to find out who else obtained the cards.., | |
[WP] You've found an old cloak in your grandmother’s closet. It appears to be made out of shadows. | Mama Lucy didn't have many friends. She lived for 20 years as a widow, and in that time I never knew her to have company. For all I knew, she was just sitting in her recliner, working on her crochet, and watching Dog the Bounty Hunter.
When she died last week, my mother sent me over to her house. I assume she wanted me to start packing things up to be sold or donated, but I was more interested in finding out who my grandmother was. I had spent the last 20 years abroad, going to school and traveling, essentially wasting all of my money, so I didn't know her as well as I should've. This was my opportunity to get a peek into the kind of person she was.
I found old pictures of her and Papa Derek, kept safe in white picture books yellowed by decades of cigarette smoke. I found a bottle of Maker's Mark tucked behind the TV, with only a couple of glasses worth missing from it. I even found a shotgun under her bed. Her belongings seemed fairly ordinary. Until I arrived at her closet.
Behind all of her Sunday best, there was a sliding wood panel. I pulled back the door, and at first, I thought that it was empty. I pulled the chain light in the closet, but the secret compartment was still completely dark. I reached my hand in to see what I was missing, and my fingers were wrapped in an ice-cold fabric. I pulled, and out came a cloak.
"Who the fuck wears a cloak?" I wondered aloud.
As I gazed at the cloak, however, it became clear that this wasn't made of cotton or leather or any normal material. It didn't seem to hold shape, and black wisps poured from the ends like smoke from an extinguished candle. It seemed like magic, and despite seeing a million movies about the dangers of messing with magic shit that you find in an old lady's house, I threw the cloak over my shoulders.
My world went dark.
I was frozen in place, and the world had gone completely silent. While I was cursing myself, a woman's voice entered my head.
"You, Louis Markham, have donned the Cloak of Shadows. Your grandmother served me well for 20 years, and now her grandson comes to me, like a foal fresh from the womb. Tell me, do you know who I am?"
"Uhhhhh...no. What is happening to me? Let me go!"
"Ha! You are not being held, son. You simply don't how to move in this world. I will teach you. I am Laverna, Goddess of Theives, Lady of the Darkness, and friend to those who do their work under the light of the moon. The cloak you are wearing belongs to my champion, who does my bidding when I call. Your grandmother took from the powerful and greedy in my name, to make the world better for those less fortunate. You will do the same. Are you ready to take your first steps in shadow, my son?"
I didn't say anything, mulling over the decision before me. I had no real career, no wife, no kids, and no real prospects in life. I was dumbfounded that my grandmother was the champion of the Goddess of Thieves, but if she could do it...
"Show me." | I drop it on her bed. She passed yesterday, and I'm still getting over it. It ripples, and I feel...something. It almost feels like a weight. I look back in the closet for anything else weird. There's a note on the floor.
"Grandson, if you're reading this, it means I have abdicated the throne of shadows. You are my chosen heir."
Umm... what the fuck.
The note was covering a latch. I open it and see a ladder that goes down into a dark room. I pull the cloak over my shoulders and descend.
At the bottom, I see a tool rack. All that's on it is a scythe. I take the scythe, and it feels natural... weirdly so. Someone speaks behind me.
"Ah, I see the new Thanatos has finally clocked in"
I look at my hand, reminiscing of all that I've already killed as an assassin. Only she knew.
This should come easy. | |
[WP] Your best friend finally got a girlfriend! Intrigued, you ask him to meet her. He brings you to his apartment to meet her. "There she is, " as he gestures to the empty space beside him. Deciding to play along, you compliment 'her' dress, to hear, "Oh thanks ! It was the greatest of its time." | My best friend Tate is a great guy. But... he's a 'great guy' in that sort of semi-patronizing tone people often say it in?
"Oh Tate? Yeah he's- he's a *greaaat guy",* almost as if they're trying to convince themselves as much as the people they're talking to. He's typically pretty nice, and he's totally pleasant to be around, but not always a barrel of laughs. Ugh, it's hard to explain because I don't really view it as a negative. Look, I love him like a brother, but *I guess* he can be just a tiny bit... bland?
Unfortunately for him, it turns out that a noticeable aura of blandness is a cardinal sin in the dating world. People of just about any age, gender or sexual orientation want to feel a *spark*. You know, that passionate, swept off your feet tingling sensation you feel when you're extremely into someone new? It seems that Tate never quite sparked that feeling in anyone, because he's 26 and hasn't had a girlfriend to speak of. It's been an embarrassing topic for him, and a bummer for me, but all that changes today. Because today, he revealed to me he's been dating a girl in secret for three months, and invited me over to meet her!
As I bounded up the steps to his apartment, I genuinely couldn't be more thrilled to meet her.
I mean.... okay, I have *slight* fear that his "girlfriend" is going to be on the other end of a Skype call with no video, but the odds of him being catfished are only what... 5%? *Maybe* 10%? Whatever, I gotta put negative thoughts out of my brain! Tate looks so so happy as he answers the door to let me in, this has *got* to be true love at work!
"Hey, Maddy," he said while embracing me warmly. "I'm so so glad you could come over. This is- look, I know this is big, okay? I just want to thank you for supporting me through so many failed first dates and everything. Just... you never made fun of me like most of my friends."
"Aw, you know I'm always here for you, Tater tot!"
He smiled at the use of one of our stupid childhood nicknames. "Alright, this is more sappy than we've been in like two decades of friendship, so we'd better get this show on the road before it gets weird. Follow me, Elizabeth is just sitting in the other room, I'll introduce you."
*Elizabeth! Sitting in the other room! She's here! And she's real! And has a name! And--oh man this is such a huge relief!*
He led me into the living room and plopped down on the couch. "Maddy, this... is Elizabeth. And Lizzy? This is my best friend since grade school, Maddy--err, Madeline," he said while turning to his left and putting his arm around thin air.
*Oh shit... oh shit, oh shit, OH SHIT! He has an imaginary, invisible girlfriend?! This is SOOOOO much worse than being catfished! Can I go back to wishing for a Skype call from an unknown foreign country?*
"HI! Uhhh... I umm... I really like your dress, Elizabeth!" I blurted in a panic, unsure of what the hell else to say or do. Do I call his parents? A psychologist? A mental hospital?
"Why thank you, my dear!" a slightly posh woman's voice said as if she was sitting right in front of me. "It was quite the popular style back in my era, but it is absolutely lovely to know a fashionable, modern young woman such as yourself still finds it suitably stylish."
"You can see her?!" Tate exclaimed with relief. "Oh man, that makes this *so much* easier. I thought I was going to have to explain things for hours on end."
"Y-Yeah," I stammered. "But uh... uh... maybe- maybe still explain things, some to me?" I wont lie, I was freaking out.
"Oh, perhaps I should do the explaining," 'Elizabeth' said. "It really is a tale as old as time, Madeline! Ghost girl haunts boy. Boy falls in love with ghost girl. Ghost girl reciprocates and... well, here we are!"
"Here we are," Tate repeated warmly as he leaned over, puckered up and kissed thin air.
"Well I'm just... stunned. Stunned by happiness, for you both!" I corrected myself.
"Oh shoot, my roomate Danny just pulled up with the weeks groceries," Tate said. "I gotta help him unload them or he gets real pissy about the lack of an elevator. You gals alright gettin' to know each other on your own for a few minutes?"
"Sure? Sure. Sureeeee, sure, sure," I replied smoothly. "Me and uh... Lizzy here will have some time for girl talk."
"Alright, back in a flash!"
With that, he was gone, and I sat facing an empty couch, unsure of how on earth to proceed.
"You... you can't see me, can you, dear?" the voice asked me.
"Heck no! Is that normal? Because if so that's such a relief not to have to pretend and- sorry I'm rambling, not every day you meet a ghost! It's okay that I can't see you?"
"Oh of course, Madeline! I would be shocked if you could! As we spend time together you should begin to see my essence, but please, do not fret."
"Thank god!" I said, totally relieved. "So uh-- if we are having some girl talk bonding time, I hope it's not rude of me to ask... I mean, Tate's my best friend, but romantically... uh- why'd you go for him?"
She sighed. "Well, Madeline... In my era, men who did not care for a particular woman could treat them... rather harshly. And I-- oh forgive my rude language but this is impossible to discuss without simply saying it. I was burned at the stake for being a 'witch'."
"Oh-- oh my god, I'm so sorry. That's... horrifying!"
"Quite! Though I suppose it was my fault for suggesting that we wash our hands before meals or performing surgery," she said, dripping with sarcasm. "I also wore short pants in the summer, displaying my ankles like quite a harlot!"
"Oh, well yes, then I understand. Who would do such a thing?" I replied with equal snark.
She laughed. Against all odds, perhaps we really are bonding? Am I becoming friends with a ghost? So cool!
"To honestly answer your query, Madeline," she continued. "After one experiences such a thing, you could say I've now gravitated to the polar opposite type of companion. Tate is... he may be a tiny bit bland, but some blandness isn't such a bad thing when you've experienced the heights of human 'passion' and 'fervor' that I have. He's sweet, kind, loyal, he's... well, he's not the 'burning at the stake' sort, is he?"
I laughed. "No, no he's definitely not the 'burning sort'. He is sweet and loyal, he's perfect for you. He's- he's a *great* guy," I said, meaning it even more now than I ever had before.
​
Feel free to check out r/Ryter if you'd like to explore more stories written by a guy with an invisible girlfriend who totalllllly exists. | I froze in silence as i heard that voice coming out of nowhere, “it must have been my imagination” i thought “sorry, i couldn’t hear you well, could you repeat that again?” I asked “thanks! It was the greatest of its time” i heard, i quickly glanced at my friend and he was smiling, that cheerful, unrecognizable smile he always has when he is happy.
“So, how long have you two been dating?” i asked
“About a week” my friend said smiling
“How did you two met?” I asked
“We were both walking during the night near st. Gabriel street, you know, the one that’s near the local graveyard” the voice replied
I just listened without questioning anything trying my best to not go insane
“Are you okay? You look pale” my friend asked with a concerned look
“Yes, i just don’t feel so good at all, i think it was something that i ate earlier”
“Really? We were about to have some dinner, we were planning to invite you to eat with us” the voice said, i couldn’t just walk away after insisting on meeting her, or it so i had no choice other than accept the offer, we just sat down at the table of the kitchen and started to eat what they prepared, “this is going to be a long night i thought”. | |
[WP] It turns out that maturity is a survival trait only developed by humans. When aliens discover Earth, they think we are "Total buzzkills with all our rules and junk." |
"Take us to the party dude!"
Eric stared in disbelief. He'd always been a fan of sci-fi, and had doodled many a spacecraft on the back of envelopes. But the thing this alien had floated out of was very different from his idle drawings.
Lights? Yes, but this had green neon coming out of the thruster arches. It had a spoiler! A SPOILER! Eric was particularly perplexed by the sound it was making. It seemed somehow familiar, harking back to his dubstep days. Was it Skrillex? He couldn't quite place it.
"Wha-, who… Are you an alien?"
"Bro we're just here to get FUCCCKKKKED UP! WOOOOOOO!"
"Erm, ok but doesn't your physiology preclude the use of drugs fr-"
"Chill mutha fuckaaaa we just wanna have some fun but I guess we better keep on rolling, you are not the one to help us". The alien turned and began to drift back inside, leaving a rather nifty aurora borealis on the trail of his 7 luminous kicks.
"WAIT!" shouted Eric, "let me call my friend. Frederico always knows where the happening things are… happening."
The alien flicked round, his necklace (which appeared to be collapsing space and time into its dark center) bouncing off his torso. "Fredericooooo! What's your name kid?"
"I'm Eric, ok it's ringing. What's yours?"
"Haaa hey Eric! My name loosely translates to the octo-vag destroyer. My pal is inside, you can call him The loose receiver."
"Ey fuck you bitch!" came a voice from inside, "they call me quadra-shlong"
"Only yo mamas call you that!!" Replied OVG, cackling with laughter at his wit.
"... yeah I'm with a couple of guys who wanna party … yeah well I just met them but they're, they're not like the guys I usually +1 … cool man we'll swing by yours and pick you up. By the way have you got any *stuff*? … Sweet see you soon." Eric looked straight at what he assumed was the aliens eyes, which were slightly hidden behind a ridiculous looking fringe, well quiff maybe a better description. Regardless, it's safe to say that the hair seemed unconcerned about the effects of gravity. "Let's go, Frederico is 10 blocks from here."
Onboard the ship the walls were covered in posters, displaying 3D videos of a very limited number of things. Many spaceships, with even more, in both quantity and pointlessness, lights and widgets. There were a few of some creature with hair which defied not just gravity but also relativity itself. But more than anything else, there were pictures of some orifice. Many angles, many colours, all entirely unlike anything Eric had seen in his 12GB hentai collection.
There was a rumble, everything seemed to slow down, and the aliens started creating an ear splitting noise. Eric dived under a table
"Sorry maaaan we should have warned you Eric, we just hot boxed the ship with Klarval gas. Crazy shit! Driving just ain't fun sober!"
'Whats Kla-"
"Alright we're here! Where's Fredericoooo?!"
"Fredooooooo!" called the other alien.
Frederico opened his door, and wondered over to the ship. "Hey Eric, how's it going guys?" he asked, "You've got to try this LSD its fucking crazy shit! You wouldn't believe the visuals I'm getting!"
"Fredoooo! Shovel it in brah!"
He gave the aliens a tab each. Eric politely declined, and couldn't help but question whether he had in fact been hanging out at one of Frederico's acid parties earlier.
A moment later a hissing sound started to erupt from the Aliens. "Wait ish thish ashidic? Ahhh shit"
And promptly the aliens began to dissolve. Eric looked at Frederico, who was grinning like a fool.
"Seriously Eric you've got to try this, the visuals are out of this world!" | I was mowing my lawn when I saw these two kids smashing up my garage door with some bricks.
"Hey! What do you think you are doing!" I said.
One of them turned to look at me, the other kept smashing a brick into the door.
"What you doing!" I said, "Look what you done to my garage door!"
The smaller kid looked like the guy who used to sing in that Sex Pistols band. The other kid looked like Pugsley from the Addams family, but if Pugsley were also part of a biker gang.
"It's no big deal old man. We're aliens," said the smaller boy. His voice was kind of nasally and high pitched. I'm not too up to date with kids nowadays and these kids seemed pretty odd, so I wanted to make sure they really were aliens before I let them get back to smashing up my garage door.
"What? Aliens?" I said. I started walking towards them to get a better look, but as soon as I got close the big kid spat in my face.
"That's how we say hello on our planet" he said.
"Look here old man" said the smaller kid, "We're on a special intergalactic mission and we need to inspect your wallet. The future of the universe depends on it"
"I don't know about that. Why would aliens need my wallet?"
"It's top secret" said the kid, "but if you don't do it the Earth will be destroyed and we will have to probe you." After he said that he turned to his friend and they started laughing. Then they high fived.
I could see from the kids' eyes, the big ones especially, that they wanted to probe me, so I handed them my wallet.
The kid took the wallet from me and shouted "Quick, to the space craft!" and the two kids ran and got on a dirt bike.
Several weeks later, once I felt the threat of probing had passed, I called the FBI to report my alien encounter. The man on the phone got angry and told me to stop wasting his time and that I had most likely been robbed by teenagers. Either way I'm just glad I didn't get probed. | |
[WP] It turns out that maturity is a survival trait only developed by humans. When aliens discover Earth, they think we are "Total buzzkills with all our rules and junk." |
"Take us to the party dude!"
Eric stared in disbelief. He'd always been a fan of sci-fi, and had doodled many a spacecraft on the back of envelopes. But the thing this alien had floated out of was very different from his idle drawings.
Lights? Yes, but this had green neon coming out of the thruster arches. It had a spoiler! A SPOILER! Eric was particularly perplexed by the sound it was making. It seemed somehow familiar, harking back to his dubstep days. Was it Skrillex? He couldn't quite place it.
"Wha-, who… Are you an alien?"
"Bro we're just here to get FUCCCKKKKED UP! WOOOOOOO!"
"Erm, ok but doesn't your physiology preclude the use of drugs fr-"
"Chill mutha fuckaaaa we just wanna have some fun but I guess we better keep on rolling, you are not the one to help us". The alien turned and began to drift back inside, leaving a rather nifty aurora borealis on the trail of his 7 luminous kicks.
"WAIT!" shouted Eric, "let me call my friend. Frederico always knows where the happening things are… happening."
The alien flicked round, his necklace (which appeared to be collapsing space and time into its dark center) bouncing off his torso. "Fredericooooo! What's your name kid?"
"I'm Eric, ok it's ringing. What's yours?"
"Haaa hey Eric! My name loosely translates to the octo-vag destroyer. My pal is inside, you can call him The loose receiver."
"Ey fuck you bitch!" came a voice from inside, "they call me quadra-shlong"
"Only yo mamas call you that!!" Replied OVG, cackling with laughter at his wit.
"... yeah I'm with a couple of guys who wanna party … yeah well I just met them but they're, they're not like the guys I usually +1 … cool man we'll swing by yours and pick you up. By the way have you got any *stuff*? … Sweet see you soon." Eric looked straight at what he assumed was the aliens eyes, which were slightly hidden behind a ridiculous looking fringe, well quiff maybe a better description. Regardless, it's safe to say that the hair seemed unconcerned about the effects of gravity. "Let's go, Frederico is 10 blocks from here."
Onboard the ship the walls were covered in posters, displaying 3D videos of a very limited number of things. Many spaceships, with even more, in both quantity and pointlessness, lights and widgets. There were a few of some creature with hair which defied not just gravity but also relativity itself. But more than anything else, there were pictures of some orifice. Many angles, many colours, all entirely unlike anything Eric had seen in his 12GB hentai collection.
There was a rumble, everything seemed to slow down, and the aliens started creating an ear splitting noise. Eric dived under a table
"Sorry maaaan we should have warned you Eric, we just hot boxed the ship with Klarval gas. Crazy shit! Driving just ain't fun sober!"
'Whats Kla-"
"Alright we're here! Where's Fredericoooo?!"
"Fredooooooo!" called the other alien.
Frederico opened his door, and wondered over to the ship. "Hey Eric, how's it going guys?" he asked, "You've got to try this LSD its fucking crazy shit! You wouldn't believe the visuals I'm getting!"
"Fredoooo! Shovel it in brah!"
He gave the aliens a tab each. Eric politely declined, and couldn't help but question whether he had in fact been hanging out at one of Frederico's acid parties earlier.
A moment later a hissing sound started to erupt from the Aliens. "Wait ish thish ashidic? Ahhh shit"
And promptly the aliens began to dissolve. Eric looked at Frederico, who was grinning like a fool.
"Seriously Eric you've got to try this, the visuals are out of this world!" |
A hush descended over the Situation Room. The Earth had pulled together in the last 16 hours in a way that even the most optimistic human would have doubted possible. Our complete failure to do anything to work with each other even when faced with existential climate collapse, when the trophic cascade began in the 20’s spoke volumes. But as it turned out, those volumes would have wasted their breath. All it took was ‘the other’. Humans were still a tribe looking for an ‘us’ and a ‘them’. Now finally we had a ‘them’ that wasn’t just ‘us’ with a slightly different coloured suit, or choice of hat.
The world leaders had voted. It had taken several hours, and several rounds of voting, but a speaker had been chosen. In the end, surprisingly it had turned out to be the President of The Caribbean Republic. With the major powers all vying for position and voting against each other, his quiet and distinguished manner won the day.
“Ship of unknown origin. This is the Speaker for the people of Earth. Please respond.”
There was a long pause. The sound crackled. A few murmurs in the chamber. The US President asked the British Prime Minister if we were sure they spoke our language.
“Yes, yes Chelsea”, the Prime Minister answered impatiently, “everywhere they have made contact they have used the local language. We are sure”.
The susurrus died abruptly as the link went live. They were there.
“Yo, Earth, what’s happening brah?”
The Speaker looked taken aback but plowed on with the script on the screen in front of him.
“The people of Earth offer their greetings. I have been elected by the representatives of our population, and as such am the voice for our 2 billion souls. I wish you to know that we desire nothing but peaceful diplomatic relations.”
“Um, OK. Sure. So, are you the coolest being on the planet as well then?”
“I am the official envoy of my species. Is “cool” how you refer to positions of authority on your homeworld? We may have to work as we begin the process of forging a new future, on the translation of our customs.”
“Only, you sound like a dork.”
There was a sound in the background that sounded disturbingly like laughter.
The President looked around furiously, but there was no prank. The science team was adamant, this was First Contact. His adviser waved him on with an encouraging grin.
“Shhh, shh shh,” came through the link. “Sorry about that my guy, we just love that word. Dork. It's such a good one. Look, there’s no translation issue. What is it with you guys? Everyone we dropped in on kept sending us to their leaders. We didn’t ask to be taken to your leaders. I’ve had leaders, it's boring. I wanted to meet some cool people, maybe do some sundiving, have a Gargleblaster or two, you know live it up. And yet this sounds like your whole planets dorkiest dorks, just elected you lord of the dorks to talk to us. Super serious, but no listening skills.”
The script was still rolling, and the Presidents mouth was opening and closing but no sound was coming out.
At that moment, with the beginnings of Earth's eventual journey to being the Parents of the Galaxy in jeopardy, a young intern changed the fate of all our stars.
“I know who we need Sir”, he called out in the silent room. “He’ll be more than 100 now, but I know he is still alive. We need to send for Keanu Reeves.”
​
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r/talleresttales | |
[WP] “...and do you take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife?” “I do,” he whispered quietly to himself in the back of the church, tears streaming down his face. | The haggard old man sat in the back row of the church, listening to the priest give the wedding talk. Everyone here he knew, but hadnt seen for years. Nobody recognized him however.
As the wedding talk goes on he couldnt help staring at the bride the entire time. So young, so vibrant, so beautiful. And the groom. So naive, so ignorant, so stupid. But at least everyone could see by the expression on the groom's face that he loved her. That made the old man happy.
The bride would be married to a man who wouldnt treat her as well as she deserved, as well as the old man could treat her, but at least the groom would do his best, the old man was confident.
If only the old man could marry her instead of that young fool, she'd have the life she was worthy of: travel, happiness, contentness. But no. It was going to be tough from here on out. The groom had nothing to his name, and she was going to be poor from here on out.
"But they have love" the old man thought to himself. "The struggles ahead will be easy with love." He smiled to himself, knowing that, in the end, it would be alright for the bride. The young fool would make her happy because of his love. And he was happy for her.
"Do you take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband" the priest says. The old man was snapped out of his revery and was surprised his daydreaming made him miss everything. But at least he'd hear this. "I do" she said. Her voice stabbed the old man to his core. So sweet and airy, like the smell of blossoms of tulips in a Danish countryside, carried across the field by a wind turning a windmill.
He hadnt heard her voice in so long. The bride now has committed to the young fool. No turning back now. The young man will go through with it for sure now. How could he not, seeing her there, and hearing her voice like that.
"...and do you take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife?" "I do," he whispered quietly to himself in the back of the church, tears streaming down his face; having said it the same time the groom did.
67 years of memories flooded into the old mans head. All the laughter and tears, all the happiness and sorrow; all the love, but never hate.
"Mr O'Brien" the nurse says. The 97 year old man opens his eyes, sitting next to his wife of 67 years in her hospital bed, holding her hand. "Yes nurse?" He replies, as he half expects her to say visiting hours are over.
"Um... nevermind." She must have noticed the tears streaming down his face and opted to give him a few more minutes with her.
His wife, as beautiful as the day she decided to marry his young and foolish self, rustles herself awake, looks at him, and smiles.
With a smirk and a knowing wink she then says "I do." | She wore flowers in her hair. Simple sprigs that were barely noticeable as part of the impressive up-do. I knew they were there, and why. So did the man standing waiting for her at the front of the church.
He hadn’t seen them yet though, facing forward as tradition dictated. A few paces until she drew level with him, time flowing forward too, as tradition dictated. I knew that the flowers represented grass. She wanted to have grass in her hair, like the day they met, playing Frisbee in a group of friends. He’d pulled it out at break in the game, and their eyes met for a fraction too long.
I looked at my watch. Not long left. There was enough time though; I’d made sure of that. I just wanted to see that moment.
I thought of my own wife, and of saying goodbye. The radiation they’d given her, had not been able to roll back the advancing disease. Radiation would be my end as well. Soon, but not yet.
I thought of my work, and the disappearing grant money. A total dedication that came across as drive when you were happy can quickly look like insanity when you are bereaved. No-one wants to enable that. So I had only one shot to prove it works. The fact that that one shot was likely to kill me was a bonus in some ways. I would see her again as she was before I went to her.
The does of radiation needed to break down the barriers of tradition was substantial, but it worked. I am here, for another 88 seconds according to my watch. At the front of the church, the besotted couple is looking into each other's eyes and making promises that they will need to keep for only a terrifyingly short time.
The moment comes, and I hold in my hands the piece of grass I pulled from her hair as I whisper along with myself. “I do”, I say through the tears.
In about 4 years and 10 seconds time, my lab assistant will find me, smiling in peace. Along with the data to change the world and a single stalk of grass.
​
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r/talleresttales | |
[WP] “...and do you take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife?” “I do,” he whispered quietly to himself in the back of the church, tears streaming down his face. | The haggard old man sat in the back row of the church, listening to the priest give the wedding talk. Everyone here he knew, but hadnt seen for years. Nobody recognized him however.
As the wedding talk goes on he couldnt help staring at the bride the entire time. So young, so vibrant, so beautiful. And the groom. So naive, so ignorant, so stupid. But at least everyone could see by the expression on the groom's face that he loved her. That made the old man happy.
The bride would be married to a man who wouldnt treat her as well as she deserved, as well as the old man could treat her, but at least the groom would do his best, the old man was confident.
If only the old man could marry her instead of that young fool, she'd have the life she was worthy of: travel, happiness, contentness. But no. It was going to be tough from here on out. The groom had nothing to his name, and she was going to be poor from here on out.
"But they have love" the old man thought to himself. "The struggles ahead will be easy with love." He smiled to himself, knowing that, in the end, it would be alright for the bride. The young fool would make her happy because of his love. And he was happy for her.
"Do you take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband" the priest says. The old man was snapped out of his revery and was surprised his daydreaming made him miss everything. But at least he'd hear this. "I do" she said. Her voice stabbed the old man to his core. So sweet and airy, like the smell of blossoms of tulips in a Danish countryside, carried across the field by a wind turning a windmill.
He hadnt heard her voice in so long. The bride now has committed to the young fool. No turning back now. The young man will go through with it for sure now. How could he not, seeing her there, and hearing her voice like that.
"...and do you take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife?" "I do," he whispered quietly to himself in the back of the church, tears streaming down his face; having said it the same time the groom did.
67 years of memories flooded into the old mans head. All the laughter and tears, all the happiness and sorrow; all the love, but never hate.
"Mr O'Brien" the nurse says. The 97 year old man opens his eyes, sitting next to his wife of 67 years in her hospital bed, holding her hand. "Yes nurse?" He replies, as he half expects her to say visiting hours are over.
"Um... nevermind." She must have noticed the tears streaming down his face and opted to give him a few more minutes with her.
His wife, as beautiful as the day she decided to marry his young and foolish self, rustles herself awake, looks at him, and smiles.
With a smirk and a knowing wink she then says "I do." | Julio couldn’t remember the last time he cried.
Was it when he scraped his knee during first grade? Or maybe when he was bullied for being that fat kid in school?
He frequently reminds himself to let go of the past to even remember those terrible things.
Those things were easy to let go but not the woman who walks down the aisle with an angelic smile.
He doesn’t believe in angels or heaven until he met her. She was reading a book down the train station, her eyes glued on every word as she tries to understand how one event causes another chain of events.
Julio wonders what was like to be in front of a train, close his eyes and never look back again.
“Don’t do it. There’s more to life than jumping in front of the train, you know.” She said. It wasn’t the statement that prevent him from jumping. It was her smile. It was some sort of safe haven when the world is against him.
Skeptic as he was, he doesn’t believe in fate either. Destiny was the farthest concept to ponder about until he saw her again at the coffee shop.
She always asks for a latte. He chuckled at that thought.
Those chain of events continued to unwrap like a kid who eagerly opens one gift and another during Christmas eve.
Getting to know her felt like music that he doesn’t mind repeating over and over again. The concept of time doesn't apply when they are together especially when she laughs at his lame jokes or when he sees her dancing in the kitchen.
He still remembers the first time she cried in front of him, her screams were muffled as he cradles her in his arms. If only he prevented her mother’s death.
If only he could’ve prevented himself from saying those words that will scar her for life. Words that took the warmth inside her eyes. Words that gave her a sorrowful smile. For Julio, it was already late. A single drop of tear fell from her face as she walked away and never looked back.
“I do.” She said, smiling tearfully as she slips her husband’s ring on his finger.
A single tear fell from his face.
Julio is late again.
Too late to prevent himself from scraping his knee in first grade.
Too late to protect himself from the bullies.
Too late to save her mother.
Too late to tell her she will die if she said yes to him.
As a person who sees the future, he is too late to change things. Too late to realize he’s already crying.
*“…and do you take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife?”*
*“I do,” he whispered quietly to himself in the back of the church, tears streaming down his face.*
For him, he doesn’t deserve to be saved.
He gave her a future full of life, a future without him.
The wedding ended with a kiss.
Julio saw his body floating amidst of the river, slowly dying.
He walked away and never looked back. The last time he cried was the last time he was seen alive. | |
[WP] “...and do you take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife?” “I do,” he whispered quietly to himself in the back of the church, tears streaming down his face. | The haggard old man sat in the back row of the church, listening to the priest give the wedding talk. Everyone here he knew, but hadnt seen for years. Nobody recognized him however.
As the wedding talk goes on he couldnt help staring at the bride the entire time. So young, so vibrant, so beautiful. And the groom. So naive, so ignorant, so stupid. But at least everyone could see by the expression on the groom's face that he loved her. That made the old man happy.
The bride would be married to a man who wouldnt treat her as well as she deserved, as well as the old man could treat her, but at least the groom would do his best, the old man was confident.
If only the old man could marry her instead of that young fool, she'd have the life she was worthy of: travel, happiness, contentness. But no. It was going to be tough from here on out. The groom had nothing to his name, and she was going to be poor from here on out.
"But they have love" the old man thought to himself. "The struggles ahead will be easy with love." He smiled to himself, knowing that, in the end, it would be alright for the bride. The young fool would make her happy because of his love. And he was happy for her.
"Do you take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband" the priest says. The old man was snapped out of his revery and was surprised his daydreaming made him miss everything. But at least he'd hear this. "I do" she said. Her voice stabbed the old man to his core. So sweet and airy, like the smell of blossoms of tulips in a Danish countryside, carried across the field by a wind turning a windmill.
He hadnt heard her voice in so long. The bride now has committed to the young fool. No turning back now. The young man will go through with it for sure now. How could he not, seeing her there, and hearing her voice like that.
"...and do you take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife?" "I do," he whispered quietly to himself in the back of the church, tears streaming down his face; having said it the same time the groom did.
67 years of memories flooded into the old mans head. All the laughter and tears, all the happiness and sorrow; all the love, but never hate.
"Mr O'Brien" the nurse says. The 97 year old man opens his eyes, sitting next to his wife of 67 years in her hospital bed, holding her hand. "Yes nurse?" He replies, as he half expects her to say visiting hours are over.
"Um... nevermind." She must have noticed the tears streaming down his face and opted to give him a few more minutes with her.
His wife, as beautiful as the day she decided to marry his young and foolish self, rustles herself awake, looks at him, and smiles.
With a smirk and a knowing wink she then says "I do." | She looks so gorgeous in that white dress. I always thought she looked best in green, but she seems to radiate pure light in that dress. Her smile, the one engraved in my mind from the day I met her, beams as she stares ahead of her. That damned smile.
The quartet falls silent, and for a second, I can only hear the priest’s inhale before his speech.
I met her when I was twelve. We were both young then — it seemed like it was us against the world. We spent every waking second together; everyone hates their teen years, but I loved them. If I could go back in time, I’d be twelve years old all over again.
When her parents disowned her for coming out, my family welcomed her. She leaned her head on my shoulder, silently crying, and all I could do was hold her until she fell asleep. In a world bereft of sympathy, I knew then that I had to love her forever.
I was always by her side — when she graduated high school and decided to travel, I took a year off college to join her. When she moved to Los Angeles and asked if I liked the city, I sold my car.
The only time I left her was two years ago. She grinned at me as she introduced her new girlfriend to me. Her eyes twinkled and whenever her girlfriend spoke, she laughed that stupid laugh she does when she thinks no one is listening. The next day, I deleted my Facebook and transferred jobs.
I found a wedding invitation in the mailbox that my wife and I chose a year ago. “You are cordially invited...” My wife squealed in excitement, gripping my hands. “California! We’re going to a Californian wedding!” she sang.
When she saw me after two long years of silence, she embraced me, leaning her head onto my shoulder. She smiled that damned smile, and I wondered if she ever cared enough about my absence.
I look at the curve of her lips as she gazes lovingly at her bride. She looks so happy.
The priest turns to her, “...and do you take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife?”
She grins in anticipation. Her bride opens her mouth.
“I do,” I whisper.
“I do.” | |
[WP] “...and do you take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife?” “I do,” he whispered quietly to himself in the back of the church, tears streaming down his face. | She was radiant in her wedding dress, resplendent, gorgeous. And she was standing across from me, smiling a secret smile, the type that only couples know.
"... take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband?" The priest's voice faded into my awareness.
"I do."
"And do you take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife?" the priest asked, turning slightly towards me.
"I do," I whispered along with the recording. Tears slid down my face, wet and hot and useless. They wouldn't bring her back.
I paused it.
I rewound it.
I hit play.
\~\~\~
It had been three years since she died.
I stared at the recording, my eyes burning into the phone screen, the images burning onto my retinas. The wedding had been held at this church 17 years, 3 months, and 14 days ago. My third cousin Ricardo had sat here, in the back row, third seat from the aisle on the left. Where I was sitting now.
Every night that I came here, I sat in a different seat.
\~\~\~
"You may now kiss the bride!"
Pause.
In that moment, she looked like she was glowing, like the happiness she felt was too much for her to contain and so it was escaping her as light. She looked like it was the happiest day of her life.
I guess I did, too. It *had* been the happiest day of my life. But I didn't spare myself a glance. If I needed to remember what I looked like, I could just use a mirror.
But I couldn't see her anymore.
Rewind.
Play.
\~\~\~
"... for better or for worse, in sickness and in health, til death do us part."
And it had.
Pause.
Rewind.
Play.
\~\~\~
"... do you take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife?"
"I do," I whispered.
The pain still hadn't faded. I didn't think it ever would.
\~\~\~
Pause.
Tonight, I was sitting in the seat of the father of the bride. Her death had hit him hard. We hadn't talked in 2 years.
Play.
\~\~\~
"... and do you take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife?"
"I do," I rasped.
Pause.
Tonight, I wasn't siting in the pews. I sat in the room I had sat in 17 years, 10 months, and 23 days ago on the day of our wedding, fiddling with my suit and trying to calm my nerves. It was the first time since the wedding that I had set foot here.
I could almost taste the excitement and love and nerves and happiness, lingering on. A faded echo of what once was.
Rewind.
Play.
\~\~\~
I had no video of her last words to me, but I didn't need one. They were burned into my mind, in perfect clarity.
Rewind.
Play.
\~\~\~
"Promise me you'll keep going," she had said. Her health was failing, and speaking was hard for her. She must have seen the pain and emptiness in my eyes, though, because she took a breath and spoke again.
"Promise me you'll stay after I'm gone, try to find happiness in the world. Moments like our wedding." I could see the joy of that day resonate though her, shine though her clouded eyes and ashen skin. She was radiant in her joy. Resplendent. Gorgeous.
She had turned her head so we were facing each other. "Do you think you can do that for me?" she had asked.
Through the tears, I managed to choke out two words.
"I do."
\----
\~bE
Thanks for reading. | She looks so gorgeous in that white dress. I always thought she looked best in green, but she seems to radiate pure light in that dress. Her smile, the one engraved in my mind from the day I met her, beams as she stares ahead of her. That damned smile.
The quartet falls silent, and for a second, I can only hear the priest’s inhale before his speech.
I met her when I was twelve. We were both young then — it seemed like it was us against the world. We spent every waking second together; everyone hates their teen years, but I loved them. If I could go back in time, I’d be twelve years old all over again.
When her parents disowned her for coming out, my family welcomed her. She leaned her head on my shoulder, silently crying, and all I could do was hold her until she fell asleep. In a world bereft of sympathy, I knew then that I had to love her forever.
I was always by her side — when she graduated high school and decided to travel, I took a year off college to join her. When she moved to Los Angeles and asked if I liked the city, I sold my car.
The only time I left her was two years ago. She grinned at me as she introduced her new girlfriend to me. Her eyes twinkled and whenever her girlfriend spoke, she laughed that stupid laugh she does when she thinks no one is listening. The next day, I deleted my Facebook and transferred jobs.
I found a wedding invitation in the mailbox that my wife and I chose a year ago. “You are cordially invited...” My wife squealed in excitement, gripping my hands. “California! We’re going to a Californian wedding!” she sang.
When she saw me after two long years of silence, she embraced me, leaning her head onto my shoulder. She smiled that damned smile, and I wondered if she ever cared enough about my absence.
I look at the curve of her lips as she gazes lovingly at her bride. She looks so happy.
The priest turns to her, “...and do you take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife?”
She grins in anticipation. Her bride opens her mouth.
“I do,” I whisper.
“I do.” | |
[WP] “...and do you take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife?” “I do,” he whispered quietly to himself in the back of the church, tears streaming down his face. | She was radiant in her wedding dress, resplendent, gorgeous. And she was standing across from me, smiling a secret smile, the type that only couples know.
"... take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband?" The priest's voice faded into my awareness.
"I do."
"And do you take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife?" the priest asked, turning slightly towards me.
"I do," I whispered along with the recording. Tears slid down my face, wet and hot and useless. They wouldn't bring her back.
I paused it.
I rewound it.
I hit play.
\~\~\~
It had been three years since she died.
I stared at the recording, my eyes burning into the phone screen, the images burning onto my retinas. The wedding had been held at this church 17 years, 3 months, and 14 days ago. My third cousin Ricardo had sat here, in the back row, third seat from the aisle on the left. Where I was sitting now.
Every night that I came here, I sat in a different seat.
\~\~\~
"You may now kiss the bride!"
Pause.
In that moment, she looked like she was glowing, like the happiness she felt was too much for her to contain and so it was escaping her as light. She looked like it was the happiest day of her life.
I guess I did, too. It *had* been the happiest day of my life. But I didn't spare myself a glance. If I needed to remember what I looked like, I could just use a mirror.
But I couldn't see her anymore.
Rewind.
Play.
\~\~\~
"... for better or for worse, in sickness and in health, til death do us part."
And it had.
Pause.
Rewind.
Play.
\~\~\~
"... do you take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife?"
"I do," I whispered.
The pain still hadn't faded. I didn't think it ever would.
\~\~\~
Pause.
Tonight, I was sitting in the seat of the father of the bride. Her death had hit him hard. We hadn't talked in 2 years.
Play.
\~\~\~
"... and do you take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife?"
"I do," I rasped.
Pause.
Tonight, I wasn't siting in the pews. I sat in the room I had sat in 17 years, 10 months, and 23 days ago on the day of our wedding, fiddling with my suit and trying to calm my nerves. It was the first time since the wedding that I had set foot here.
I could almost taste the excitement and love and nerves and happiness, lingering on. A faded echo of what once was.
Rewind.
Play.
\~\~\~
I had no video of her last words to me, but I didn't need one. They were burned into my mind, in perfect clarity.
Rewind.
Play.
\~\~\~
"Promise me you'll keep going," she had said. Her health was failing, and speaking was hard for her. She must have seen the pain and emptiness in my eyes, though, because she took a breath and spoke again.
"Promise me you'll stay after I'm gone, try to find happiness in the world. Moments like our wedding." I could see the joy of that day resonate though her, shine though her clouded eyes and ashen skin. She was radiant in her joy. Resplendent. Gorgeous.
She had turned her head so we were facing each other. "Do you think you can do that for me?" she had asked.
Through the tears, I managed to choke out two words.
"I do."
\----
\~bE
Thanks for reading. | The man gently wiped his eyes, recognizing the way his fingertips felt like sandpaper for the first time.
He weeps, comfortably, openly as he exits during the applause. It’s too much to feel, he can’t watch the kiss.
Her lips tasted like cherries, her middle school fascination with Katy Perry led to her first kiss in the locker room. He sobs, thinking of the touch, the time he has lost.
He is lost. Without her.
And her.
His sobs shake the car, he sees the long eyelashes T can’t take away, remembers how long he fought to stay her girl. And how hard he fought to be his own man.
He is happy for her, she deserves to be happy. She had loved her through the journey to being him, and continued to love him so fiercely. So friendly.
He buckled the seatbelt, feeling it sit across his chest differently. A deep breath, a quick adjustment of the binder, another look at the long eyelashes in the mirror as he checks the blind spot. | |
[WP] “...and do you take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife?” “I do,” he whispered quietly to himself in the back of the church, tears streaming down his face. | Miles’ thoughts wander as he sits in the backrow of the church where his ex-girlfriend is to be married. His friends, hell, even his mother, told him that he’d get over Katie soon enough. “*You’re young. Have fun. Put yourself out there,”* they said. And that he did, and while the pain now isn’t the constant avalanche it was in the weeks following the end of their relationship, it’s still there, and so is the dream. She comes to his door, streaks of mascara running down her cheeks, begging for him to take her back.
“I was wrong,” she begins, “and I still love you.”
They embrace, and kiss with the innocent passion of any good first love. And then what? Make-up sex or another *Breaking Bad* marathon? How about both? It doesn’t matter because Miles is awake before they do either.
There are still songs he can’t listen to without breaking down and crying. Like “Cowboy Song” by Thin Lizzy.
“What? Who?” Miles asked.
Katie’s dad was an older guy who worked as a roadie and guitar tech for all sorts of bands in the 1970s and 80s. He told Katie about the music he enjoyed in his youth, and she in turn told Miles.
“I am just cowboy, lonesome on the trail…” he remembers Katie singing along on that road trip to New Orleans. They’d been dating for about two years then; right about when Miles thinks of as the very best part of their relationship. The butterflies and nervous excitement that accompanied the first few months were long gone, but now they felt truly comfortable with each other. Katie wasn’t just the girl he loved, but his best friend in the world too.
Shortly after that, things started to change. Looking back, he’s not even sure who’s to blame. Yeah, maybe he *could* keep his hands off her, unlike in the beginning, but the same was true for Katie too. He was once so jealous when they first met and she went out with her friends on a girls’ night. Then he hoped she’d do it more often. One day, her proclivity to explain jokes that Miles didn’t laugh at—a process much more amusing than the joke itself—just started to annoy him.
And maybe it should have ended there. It would have sucked, it would have been painful, but it would have been clean. There would be no painful memories of that long downhill slide and no longing to have back not just the good times but the bad ones too.
“Mom, pops and granny hate each other. Why are they still married?” Miles had asked his mother when he was, maybe, four years old. She laughed the way parents will at the unfiltered forwardness of their children, but then she actually answered the question. He didn’t remember the exact wording, but he did remember one big, adult word: codependency.
Jesus, was he going to be like them?
He remembers those nights when he was about to open the front door, and he knew Katie would be standing there, waiting for him. Not to kiss or comfort, but confront him. He needs to stop flirting with Elena from work. *Well, she needs to stop talking about Justin every goddamn second.* Why is he late? What was he doing? Screwing that slut? *It wouldn’t surprise me if she’s been doing the same with that pink polo-shirt-wearing prick.*
In the end, Katie is the one to end it. Miles is too much of a coward to, and even he knows as much. Miles, always the one who wants to be the good guy, the guy who apologizes to the server when he’s served the wrong dish. Miles, afraid to hang on but not brave enough to let go. She cries. He cries. And they embrace one last time. For just a moment, Miles thinks of falling to his knees, begging. I’ll be better. We’ll be better. We *still* love each other. Don’t you remember how much fun we had on that vacation to Tulum? Remember that one stormy night when we lost power and we lit some candles, opened a bottle of wine and just… talked? But Miles doesn’t do any of that. He owes Katie, and himself, at least that much.
And now with the Bridal Chorus complete, Katie stands on the altar, beaming at the man she’s about to marry. Miles’ guts tighten. *She used to look at me like that. Used to.* He debated simply not attending the ceremony, but Daniel Lane, a colleague of Miles, is a genuinely decent, kind-hearted man. It had been more than awkward for them both when Miles found out that Daniel had started dating Katie, and for Daniel as well when he learned of their history. But both put a good face on things and pretended that the past was the past.
But the real reason Miles is here? He thinks that maybe, just maybe seeing this ceremony will somehow, someway let him move on with his life.
The preacher begins his spiel and Miles closes his eyes. It’s Halloween night—Katie’s favorite day—and Miles has just arrived at her old apartment. She’s outside, talking to her neighbor, and then sees him. She smiles broadly and waves, almost jumping as she does so. It was a girlish habit that she’d taken part in when the first two met, like she was so happy to see him that she couldn’t keep both feet on the ground.
“Well, what do you think?” she says, and spins around. Some couples like to go as pairs to Halloween parties, but Katie would always insist that they should “surprise each other” instead. This year Katie is Zombie Princess Peach. She’d always had a penchant for the silly over the sexy as far as costumes went, and she must have spent hours on that makeup.
“You like?” Katie dances toward him, doing a very respectable imitation of the “Thriller” dance, then wraps her hands around the back of his neck and kisses him sweetly.
Miles is snapped back to the reality. A single joyous tear rolls down Katie’s cheek as the preacher finishes reciting the vows, “…and be faithful to only him for long as you both shall live?”
“I do,” she says, choking up. Then louder, “I do!”
“I… would have…” Miles thinks.
The crowd laughs good-naturedly and claps. The organist strikes up Mendelssohn’s “Wedding March” and the couple begins their exit from the church to the hoots and hollers of friends and family, formality now being set aside. And just for a moment, Katie sees Miles as they walk by. She smiles and mouths something, but he can’t say what it was. “I remember,” perhaps.
After the ceremony, Miles is in no mood for a party, and spends the rest of the evening driving around without a destination in mind. Maybe sometimes no one is really right or wrong. And maybe despite a thousand love songs, sometimes love just isn’t enough. But maybe you have to try again anyway knowing just how bad it might hurt in the end. | The man gently wiped his eyes, recognizing the way his fingertips felt like sandpaper for the first time.
He weeps, comfortably, openly as he exits during the applause. It’s too much to feel, he can’t watch the kiss.
Her lips tasted like cherries, her middle school fascination with Katy Perry led to her first kiss in the locker room. He sobs, thinking of the touch, the time he has lost.
He is lost. Without her.
And her.
His sobs shake the car, he sees the long eyelashes T can’t take away, remembers how long he fought to stay her girl. And how hard he fought to be his own man.
He is happy for her, she deserves to be happy. She had loved her through the journey to being him, and continued to love him so fiercely. So friendly.
He buckled the seatbelt, feeling it sit across his chest differently. A deep breath, a quick adjustment of the binder, another look at the long eyelashes in the mirror as he checks the blind spot. | |
[WP] “...and do you take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife?” “I do,” he whispered quietly to himself in the back of the church, tears streaming down his face. | Miles’ thoughts wander as he sits in the backrow of the church where his ex-girlfriend is to be married. His friends, hell, even his mother, told him that he’d get over Katie soon enough. “*You’re young. Have fun. Put yourself out there,”* they said. And that he did, and while the pain now isn’t the constant avalanche it was in the weeks following the end of their relationship, it’s still there, and so is the dream. She comes to his door, streaks of mascara running down her cheeks, begging for him to take her back.
“I was wrong,” she begins, “and I still love you.”
They embrace, and kiss with the innocent passion of any good first love. And then what? Make-up sex or another *Breaking Bad* marathon? How about both? It doesn’t matter because Miles is awake before they do either.
There are still songs he can’t listen to without breaking down and crying. Like “Cowboy Song” by Thin Lizzy.
“What? Who?” Miles asked.
Katie’s dad was an older guy who worked as a roadie and guitar tech for all sorts of bands in the 1970s and 80s. He told Katie about the music he enjoyed in his youth, and she in turn told Miles.
“I am just cowboy, lonesome on the trail…” he remembers Katie singing along on that road trip to New Orleans. They’d been dating for about two years then; right about when Miles thinks of as the very best part of their relationship. The butterflies and nervous excitement that accompanied the first few months were long gone, but now they felt truly comfortable with each other. Katie wasn’t just the girl he loved, but his best friend in the world too.
Shortly after that, things started to change. Looking back, he’s not even sure who’s to blame. Yeah, maybe he *could* keep his hands off her, unlike in the beginning, but the same was true for Katie too. He was once so jealous when they first met and she went out with her friends on a girls’ night. Then he hoped she’d do it more often. One day, her proclivity to explain jokes that Miles didn’t laugh at—a process much more amusing than the joke itself—just started to annoy him.
And maybe it should have ended there. It would have sucked, it would have been painful, but it would have been clean. There would be no painful memories of that long downhill slide and no longing to have back not just the good times but the bad ones too.
“Mom, pops and granny hate each other. Why are they still married?” Miles had asked his mother when he was, maybe, four years old. She laughed the way parents will at the unfiltered forwardness of their children, but then she actually answered the question. He didn’t remember the exact wording, but he did remember one big, adult word: codependency.
Jesus, was he going to be like them?
He remembers those nights when he was about to open the front door, and he knew Katie would be standing there, waiting for him. Not to kiss or comfort, but confront him. He needs to stop flirting with Elena from work. *Well, she needs to stop talking about Justin every goddamn second.* Why is he late? What was he doing? Screwing that slut? *It wouldn’t surprise me if she’s been doing the same with that pink polo-shirt-wearing prick.*
In the end, Katie is the one to end it. Miles is too much of a coward to, and even he knows as much. Miles, always the one who wants to be the good guy, the guy who apologizes to the server when he’s served the wrong dish. Miles, afraid to hang on but not brave enough to let go. She cries. He cries. And they embrace one last time. For just a moment, Miles thinks of falling to his knees, begging. I’ll be better. We’ll be better. We *still* love each other. Don’t you remember how much fun we had on that vacation to Tulum? Remember that one stormy night when we lost power and we lit some candles, opened a bottle of wine and just… talked? But Miles doesn’t do any of that. He owes Katie, and himself, at least that much.
And now with the Bridal Chorus complete, Katie stands on the altar, beaming at the man she’s about to marry. Miles’ guts tighten. *She used to look at me like that. Used to.* He debated simply not attending the ceremony, but Daniel Lane, a colleague of Miles, is a genuinely decent, kind-hearted man. It had been more than awkward for them both when Miles found out that Daniel had started dating Katie, and for Daniel as well when he learned of their history. But both put a good face on things and pretended that the past was the past.
But the real reason Miles is here? He thinks that maybe, just maybe seeing this ceremony will somehow, someway let him move on with his life.
The preacher begins his spiel and Miles closes his eyes. It’s Halloween night—Katie’s favorite day—and Miles has just arrived at her old apartment. She’s outside, talking to her neighbor, and then sees him. She smiles broadly and waves, almost jumping as she does so. It was a girlish habit that she’d taken part in when the first two met, like she was so happy to see him that she couldn’t keep both feet on the ground.
“Well, what do you think?” she says, and spins around. Some couples like to go as pairs to Halloween parties, but Katie would always insist that they should “surprise each other” instead. This year Katie is Zombie Princess Peach. She’d always had a penchant for the silly over the sexy as far as costumes went, and she must have spent hours on that makeup.
“You like?” Katie dances toward him, doing a very respectable imitation of the “Thriller” dance, then wraps her hands around the back of his neck and kisses him sweetly.
Miles is snapped back to the reality. A single joyous tear rolls down Katie’s cheek as the preacher finishes reciting the vows, “…and be faithful to only him for long as you both shall live?”
“I do,” she says, choking up. Then louder, “I do!”
“I… would have…” Miles thinks.
The crowd laughs good-naturedly and claps. The organist strikes up Mendelssohn’s “Wedding March” and the couple begins their exit from the church to the hoots and hollers of friends and family, formality now being set aside. And just for a moment, Katie sees Miles as they walk by. She smiles and mouths something, but he can’t say what it was. “I remember,” perhaps.
After the ceremony, Miles is in no mood for a party, and spends the rest of the evening driving around without a destination in mind. Maybe sometimes no one is really right or wrong. And maybe despite a thousand love songs, sometimes love just isn’t enough. But maybe you have to try again anyway knowing just how bad it might hurt in the end. | As I sit and watch her walk down the isle, beautiful as can be, and even wearing the pearls I got her, her last birthday. The words I said as I gave them to her still rings in my head; "beautiful pearls, for the prettiest pearl in the sea.".
I thought we'd be together forever, never did I think I'd see the day of her walking to her future husband...a husband that isn't me.
I stare her down, praying to God she'll turn towards me, realize the m8stake she's making and run towards me. Turn....turn....please, turn to me damnit. Choose me.
"...and do you take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife?" The preacher asks.
Watching the woman of my dreams marrying some other man, I mouth the words her chosen say to her.
"I do" I whispered under my breath. The dam has been broken and a river of tears fall from my eyes. My heart is shattered. And the rest of my life follows after, hollow, empty, broken. | |
[WP] You die for your friends, while fighting a great evil. Expecting oblivion, you are instead met with cheers. "Hello! Welcome to the afterlife for fictional characters, a therapist will come by in a moment to help you get over your untimely death.." | “My name is Maximus and my sword vanquishes evil for the good of humanity!”
Maximus leapt at the demon which had been threatening the city of God, and in a blinding flash they were gone. He had done it. Maximus of the people had saved the world. However, Maximus’ story was not over. Just as he had died in a blinding flash, Maximus woke up with his eyes being pierced by bright lights. He squints for a few seconds then looks around the room. It looked nothing like the world he had remembered. Strange looking people wearing armor made of strange metals he had never seen. Others wearing what looked like some form of bath robe. One thing in common with everyone else here is that they looked just as lost as Maximus. The room he was in was painfully white with smooth walls and floors. The chair Maximus was sat in was made of a strange hard material, and when Maximus leaned back the chair would bend but never break. What was this place.
“Maximus of the people?”
A woman wearing a short robe and pants was looking at Maximus with a bored expression.
“Uh, yes that’s me.” Maximus responded.
“Come with me.”
Maximus stood and followed the women down a corridor. On the walls were paintings of great battles, but none Maximus had ever heard of.
“Sit in the chair. Doctor Poet will be with you shortly.”
Before Maximus had a chance to ask her anything she was gone back to the room. Maximus carefully entered the room. Just like the rest of the building the walls were blinding white. The only difference hear was the desk that sat in front of the chair. On it were picture frames and various trinkets. A large book sitting at the center of the desk piqued Maximus’ interest. Maximus reached for the book. “Maximus of the People” That was the title of the book. Maximus began flipping through the book. He couldn’t believe that every passage in this book was identical to his own life. It even contained his own inner thoughts.
“Oh, I’m terribly sorry I’m late.” A voice came from the doorway behind Maximus.
A Tall and slender man with graying hair and wrinkled skin entered the room while striding towards his desk.
“I see you’ve found your novel.”
Maximus could only stare quizzically at this man as he took the book from his hand.
“I’m afraid while it is a great book, we should wait till later in our meeting to discuss its contents.” The man known as Dr. Poet sat down at his desk.
“What is this place?” Maximus asked the doctor.
“Well, I assume you have come to realize that you are dead.”
Maximus stared down at his hands. An expression of pure anguish came over his face.
“My family, my friends…”
“Are all ok. Trust me” The doctor interrupted Maximus with a kind smile.
“My name is Dr. Poet, and it is my job to make sure that all of my clients are able to come to terms with their existence. The place where we are now is your afterlife. IT will be the afterlife for your family and your friends.”
“If this is my afterlife. Does that make you…”
“God? No, as I said I’m here to make sure you come to terms with your existence. To be blunt Maximus. You are a fictional character.”
That news confused Maximus. At first, he was sure this man was lying. He even laughed at the idea. However, the straight face of the doctor assured Maximus that he was serious.
“What do you mean I’m a fictional character. Like a children’s book?
“Well, not exactly. You see, you are a work of fiction by American author James Teegarden. He lives in Denver, Colorado, and has currently made 200,000 US dollars from selling his story about you to happy readers.”
“I don’t understand.”
“I don’t expect you to understand all of what I’ve just said. But what I need you to understand is that you’re not technically real. Theo only reason you exist is because this man came up with you.”
“So, what happens after this talk. Will I get to see my family again?”
“Of course. They’re going through a similar talk right now in another facility. Once you are all done, you’ll be reunited within the world of your book.”
“So, we can go home.”
“Yes, but as a warning you will only be allowed to have the experiences that are written in the book. You and everyone in your novel may jump from any point in the book to another for the rest of eternity. However, you must realize after this you may never again gain new experiences. What you’ve have gone through is what you will go through for the rest of time.”
Maximus sat back in his chair. He was relieved he could see his family again. Yet, in his heart there was an emptiness. He felt as if nothing he did in his life actually mattered. None of it was real. Furthermore, he now realized he never had any true free will. He will never have free will.
“Maximus, are you ok?” The doctor had a concerned look on his face as Maximus had his revelation.
“I think so doctor. I just have some many questions.”
“I’m sure you do, but I need to see more clients as more and more books are written I have to process each new hero. So, you can stay here and put me behind schedule. Or, you can leave and be with your loved ones.”
Maximus stood from his chair gave the doctor one last worried glance and left. As soon as he left the doorway a bright light engulfed him, and he was gone. Dr. Poet grabbed Maximus’ book and studied it. After a few seconds he tossed it over his shoulder onto a stack of books a few feet tall.
“Send the next hero in please.” The doctor shouted down the hallway.
The doctor reached into his drawer and, just as Maximus’ book had before, a new book materialized in the drawer before the doctor’s eyes. | Hi, I'm Richard Parker, and I'm 24, but you can call me Dickey - yeah, bad nickname,
I know. I'm a vegetarian. I am a avid fan of Mrs Dalloway. I like to watch Friends and Seinfeld, oh, and Lost. I work at a Jiffy Lube. I like otome games. So why am I fighting motherfucking Chuthulu?
Ok, so I woke up as usual. That's when my boss told me our store was closed and hang up immediately. Weird. This wasn't planned. So I went and called my friends. We planned to go to the mall, then an Arby's, then the college we all go to (by the way, I'm studying for my bachelor's degree) so we can prank the dean.
We were on the way to the mall when it happened. My girlfriend Sonya was driving, I was next to her, behind me was Bill, and next to him were Garrett and Amanda, Bill's girlfriend and Garrett's sister. It was about 7:00 AM- we're all early birds. Suddenly Amanda noticed that there was lightning. It was a tsunami.
We all ran out of the car as fast as we can. I saw tentacles. I didn't need to read Lovecraft to know it was Chuthulu. I grabbed a Minecraft diamond pickaxe from a destroyed house. I ran toward the tsunami. The last words I ever heard was "Dickey! Stop!" I went toward Chuthulu , killing him. You're probably asking, "Dickey, aren't you dead?" Yeah; I died by being eaten by a group of men in their boat, just like the person who bears my name in the Edgar Allan Poe novel.
"Hello! Welcome to the afterlife for fictional characters. A therapist will come by in a moment to help you get over your untimely death." I look. Why was there Virginia Woolf ? Why am I labeled "Otome Character, Richard Parker" ? Is that my mom? She died when I was 12! | |
[WP] You were once known as the most powerful super villain to have existed. You left your life of villainy for love, but now your loved ones have been killed. You set out for revenge. | I thought the children of this generation would never know the fear their parents still feel at even passing mention of my name. The death and horror I wrought daily and relentlessly. The hero never loses, supposedly, but I know firsthand the falsity of that notion. Countless ‘heroes’ fell by my hand. So many bodies. So many grand funerals. So many more insects to squash. It wasn’t that I had any grudges with humanity - just that causing pain was so much more fun than following rules. Much less restricting.
It came as a surprise when I stopped years ago. Slowly my name disappeared from day to day conversation. My face disappeared from the minds of many and speculations even died down. Most assumed I had been defeated by an unsung hero and I guess I sort of had. She changed something inside of me. I didn’t want to be cruel anymore because I found my reason to be good. My guiding light if you will. We faked her defeat amongst the other heroes and vanished into the night. Lying low and living life.
We had twins a few years later. It was then I realised I was happy. I didn’t need the bad part of me because someone had seen the good and still loved me for my flaws. It became unthinkable that I would ever go back to evil. I swapped a hellscape for a quiet home and it was all I’d ever wanted.
Whilst all this was happening people realised I still lived. Sightings were reported but nobody went any further. Nobody dared. I was civil and so were they. Trouble only began to surface when some began to doubt how dangerous i was. My feats had become urban legend and many weren’t sure there should be any cause for fear. There were whisperings from a few vigilantes about bringing me to justice. Capturing me and turning me in to the local villains jail. None of that happened.
Then came the evening I came home to blood. Blood on the walls, floor, furniture. Rich red stains permeated everything. Everyone.
I never understood those who turn to villainy for heartbreak more than that day.
I physically felt something snap inside of me. If they hadn’t learned the first time they would now. I didn’t care who had done it. Everyone should pay. Their negligence to stop it made them just as guilty as the perpetrators.
Just as suddenly as it had ended, my reign of terror began again. The reason i was so unstoppable was my power - the ability to force someone to tear themselves apart. Very literally. They feel a heartache so painful they rip their own heart from their chest. I used to watch for amusement but now... now i watch to see them feel the same pain i do. Listen to hear their screams as they realise all they love is everything that can easily be lost.
So the children of this generation do know my name. Pain haunts their hearts but never as bad as when i reach them. They took my happiness away so I’ll take their’s. That’s the thing about people. Everyone has their reason for good but when it’s taken away, that’s their reason for evil. You took mine from me. I’d advise strongly that you don’t take any more. | My Villain, the only villain of my life. The only, the only threat to me. Who took everything from me. They left a wealth of clues where they leaped between different somesuch otherworldy states and my barriers.
All my defenses, like paper walls, like the dewed silk of a spider in a tree to a rhino. My Villain stepped right by, and left so many trails, little waves and ripples on the shores of each causeway between words. My past enemies, who I had defeated by these immortal avenues, had no means to know how I sauntered. My past enemies, who I eagerly spared and reached a solemn understanding with.
"Who is it now?" One of my many cries into the the coalescing, blurred scape.
"Of course, it's you (me)."
"Why?" My Villain spoke. By some festering miracle, I waited and listened.
"There isn't much time. You (me) and I (you) are immortal. We would outlive our sun and moon, our stars in the sky, we would outlive them. Watching them die. I stopped living. I was about and dead. So, I trapped their souls. It only brought more pain. Distorting them, unnatural. I just. I wanted to be with them, but I was killing them again and I killed them again. Your (my) sun and moon and all those sweet stars. I killed yours (mine) to spare you (me) all that pain."
I looked.
"I (you) am your (my) salvation! Only you (I) know! Now your (my) revenge (freedom)."
I took another look. Of course, I had seen nothing but a gray-hollow with a smoldering iron through my temple, trailing along again, a bunch of mortal tears blinding old, immortal me. I was living in the swell of the tide flushing my window to the world.
My last look, "I'll spare you. You live. Nothing's worse. I know." | |
[WP] You were once known as the most powerful super villain to have existed. You left your life of villainy for love, but now your loved ones have been killed. You set out for revenge. | (It gets a bit dark so this is just a warning."
It's amazing how a man born with such a simple power rose through the criminal underworld. I was born with four holes in my back. Some how I stayed alive and through surgery and skin crafts, I lived a pretty normal life. I was bullied through school because of my looks, and during college I just snapped. That's when the powers manifested.
A bully had dumped pencil shavings in my hair during my math class. I got irrationally angry, having put up with his bullying for years. I felt searing pain from the four spots in my back, and I screamed as the flesh ripped apart. From the reopened holes sprouted four shadowy appendage, each one forming into long, wispy tendrils, the tips tapering off into a spike.
Did the guy deserve what happened to him? Probably not. There's even an argument that I might have overreacted a bit. But, i enjoyed his death throes more than anything up until the point I met her.
I was respected. I was feared. And, after several scaring google searches, I was......let's say admired by a few artists. Still that didn't stop her from standing up to me.
She was the ruling boss of the first gang I tried to take over. I was awestruck when I first saw her, her crimson hair perfectly matching the pile of evsirated henchmen I left behind, and the look she gave made me know she was imagining how to turn my body into a matching pile.
I wasn't the same smooth talker I am now, back than. I still cringe when I remember my first words to her. "Oh don't cry over them . I hate to have the tears block my view while I watch the light die from yours eyes." I thought it sounded cool and scary, but she saw through it.
"Why would I cry over the help?" She smiled, walking towards me. "Besides, just between you and me, I was gonna feed on a few of them anyway." I raised my eye brow, the tendrils posed to attack at a moments notice. What was she? A cannibal? That's screwed up even by my standards.
Suddenly she pulled a knife out, charging towards me. Most would have felt fear, maybe confusion. But all I felt was disappointment. Three tendrils gripped her, slamming her into the wall. Here she was. The leader of the city's best gang, and this was it? "Nice try I guess." I said, pressing the spike of my free tendril against her throat. "I think lackey number 57 gave me more trouble though, now die" But when I tried to push the tendril in, it wouldn't move. I tried again but nothing.
Suddenly a coldness spread through them, working it's way towards me. I tried to let her go, but she gripped the one at her throat, refusing to let go. "Hm. What a unique flavor. Bitter with a hint of sweetness" she grinned at me, as the coldness spread to my back. "The taste of life can differ between different people, and I quiet enjoy yours." She dropped my tendril and I backed away, warmth slowly returning.
She approached me, and pressed her hand against my chest. "Now. I could start absorbing right now, probably would stop your heart." The tendrils all attempted to stab her at that point, but the pull of my life essence from my heart stopped me. "No, bad boy. Let me finish. Now as I was saying. I could do that, or you could work for me.
I stared at her, dumbfounded. "Work for you? After I killed all your men?"
"They were worthless, besides your life tastes much better than any of there's."
I sighed and held my hands and tendrils in the air. "Better than dying...."
"Good boy" she smiled at me and I was frustrated how it made my heart pound.
Thus started our reign of terror. She was the brains, and I was the muscle. We ran into our fair share of heros, and I was responsible for my fair share of butchered heroes. We slowly bonded and after I was nearly killed by the super hero Perfect, she confessed how she felt to me.
We were married a year afterward and we retired shortly after, faking both our deaths expertly. I thought we made the perfect get away. We had you and I was ecstatic when you manifested both of our powers, being able to Absorb life essence through either skin contact, or your tendrils. You would be an even better villain than us. That's when Perfect found us.
Diane had been driving you to day care when Perfect grabbed the car. He dragged her out and proclaimed to everyone that she was the famous brains of the Pack, Doctor Drain. She put up one hell of a fight. Witnesses say that he was forced to snap her neck or she would have taken all of his life.
Something came back to me that day. A darkness I had left behind. You were taken to the hospital along with Perfect. That night I went to take you back, and killing Perfect while he slept in the bed was an amazing feeling.
If you're reading this, grandma finally allowed you to see my old costume. There's so much I wish I could tell you. To teach you. But that darkness I felt never died down after Perfect's death.
As I write this, an experimental drug is flowing through me. Its supposed to increase my powers a hundred fold. If Diane was still here, I'm sure she could tell you what and how it affected the body, but all I know is now my tendrils can stretch out for miles.
I don't know what they'll call this massacre. If I was in charge of the headline, I would write something stupid, like "The Hanging City" or "City of Spikes." But they'll probably call it something boring like "Hero massacre turned suicide." Oh well.
Here's my passing advice to you son. Don't do drugs, the things you think are cool to say to women probably aren't, Kill every last one of those self proclaimed heros, and that we love you. Now excuse me, your mother doesn't like to be kept waiting.
Signed
Ebon Piercer aka Dad | My Villain, the only villain of my life. The only, the only threat to me. Who took everything from me. They left a wealth of clues where they leaped between different somesuch otherworldy states and my barriers.
All my defenses, like paper walls, like the dewed silk of a spider in a tree to a rhino. My Villain stepped right by, and left so many trails, little waves and ripples on the shores of each causeway between words. My past enemies, who I had defeated by these immortal avenues, had no means to know how I sauntered. My past enemies, who I eagerly spared and reached a solemn understanding with.
"Who is it now?" One of my many cries into the the coalescing, blurred scape.
"Of course, it's you (me)."
"Why?" My Villain spoke. By some festering miracle, I waited and listened.
"There isn't much time. You (me) and I (you) are immortal. We would outlive our sun and moon, our stars in the sky, we would outlive them. Watching them die. I stopped living. I was about and dead. So, I trapped their souls. It only brought more pain. Distorting them, unnatural. I just. I wanted to be with them, but I was killing them again and I killed them again. Your (my) sun and moon and all those sweet stars. I killed yours (mine) to spare you (me) all that pain."
I looked.
"I (you) am your (my) salvation! Only you (I) know! Now your (my) revenge (freedom)."
I took another look. Of course, I had seen nothing but a gray-hollow with a smoldering iron through my temple, trailing along again, a bunch of mortal tears blinding old, immortal me. I was living in the swell of the tide flushing my window to the world.
My last look, "I'll spare you. You live. Nothing's worse. I know." | |
[WP] You're a vampire slayer and monster hunter. You've just killed the leader of all vampires. But right before his death, he tells you that he has bitten your wife/husband. | The graveyard was oddly comforting this time of night. Enough heat from the day had evaporated that I actually needed the hoodie I called my uniform. I drew it closer as I edged my way around the tombstones, silently stalking.
Hunting.
Adrian had been tormenting my town for too long. I hit his nest earlier in the week. He was the only left of his pack and I was ending this tonight.
A twig snapped behind me and I turned just in time to watch the blur that was Adrian advance toward me and slam me against a giant oak tree. His hand grasped my throat, his unearthly strength lifting me off the ground. He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply.
“Slayer…”
Using the tree as leverage, I pushed him away with both feet. He released my neck and I crashed to the ground. The wind knocked out of me, I jumped to my feet in enough time to see his right hook coming and deflect it. He was arrogant, violent and sloppy tonight. This was perfect. I was going to win.
I threw a punch that connected with his nose, blood spraying across the night sky and followed with kick to his chest that sent him flying. He crashed into a giant angel statue and fell chest first into the freshly overturned soil. I hurried over.
Don’t overthink. Don’t waste time. Kill and end it.
He turned over, a smile on his face as I drew the wooden stake from my combat boot. “What are you smiling at?” I lunged toward him, aiming for the heart. He grabbed me by the wrists, flipping me over and pinning me to the ground. His knee connected with my ribs and he drew himself closer. Close enough that I could smell the tang of blood, a fresh kill on his breath.
“You think you can beat me because you turn me to a pile of dust?” I struggled against his grip. He held me firm in place but didn’t make an attempt to bite. Something was off. “Obviously,” I huffed. “You die. I win. That’s the idea.” “You kill me, and another will rise to take my place.” “Then I’ll keep killing. It's what I do.” “No matter who the vamp?” he asked, eyebrows raise, a smirk on his lips. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
He released me then, a mistake. I struck true and plunged the stake into his chest. With his last bit of breath, he pointed just to the left of where he had tackled me. “I’ve left you a gift. Look,” he commanded and then he was dust.
I turned onto my side and pushed myself up brushing what was left of Adrian off my jeans. Then, for some reason I looked. My heart stopped in my chest. As a slayer, I can spot a vampire from a mile away. They don’t move like humans and the man standing at arms length was definitely not human. At least, not anymore. I knew now why Adrian had been taunting me. Tears stung my eyes as I realized what I had to do.
“Simon,” I choked out a sob and clutched my stake with my left hand. My wedding band digging into my skin.
“Hello lover,” my husband responded. “Shall we dance?” | ..he swooped in at Quincy from the darkness, but the clasp finally release an a bolt was released into the bat's abdomen pinning it to the think wooded pew of the chapel. Quincy immediately drew the long silver saber from his side and readied a strong thrust. The bat had already started to change back to the more human form of the Duke, blood was dripping from his fanged mouth.
The Duke laughed as he wiped the blood from lips and licked his pale fingers clean.
He smiled confidently, "You must be Vampire Hunter Quincy. A pleasure to finally meet you, for the last time."
"Quiet, you monster!" Quincy yelled, "You will not leave here this day."
He thrust the saber at the sharply dressed figure and met only the solid back of the pew. A mist spiraled up the blade and to the floor behind the hunter and again took a human form. Duke broke the bolt and pulled it back through his puncture lung, casually tossing it aside.
"Ah, but that's where you are mistaken. You are not dealing with on of my feckless peons. I am mist. I am bat. I am wolf. I AM VAMPIRE!" Duke raised his hands to the sky ceiling in a dramatic fashion. "I alone control the will of the others and I alone forged the contract with the demon to gain my strength!"
Quincy freed the saber from the pew and swung swiftly at the neck of the vampire, again meeting only air.
"I WILL stop you. You have made slaves and livestock of good men and the world ill needs your soulless kin." Quincy shouted. "Nevermore will humanity be held in your dark tyranny. You are the last and this is your last day on our Earth, so help me lord."
The Duke with inhuman speed stepped back dodging the blade like a child at play. "What is a man if not sustenance for the powerful? Much like your women are only good for breeding.. A quick bite from me and the fall into the darkness and deeply in love with me. God cant save any of them. After all, he couldn't even save the wife of a vampire hunter." He paused and watched Quincy's stern seriousness droop into dismay with a sick smile. "Oh if you could only have heard her scream when she saw me at her bedside. Her blood was less sweet than I had hoped. If she wasn't so hideous I would have bedded he and made a half breed, alas she will just be the catalyst for my next offspring by weeks end "
The vampire hunter grew enraged and swung the silver saber wildly at the Duke. Every flicker of silver hit nothingness as the Duke briskly back stepped and dodged, still grinning at the horror on Quincy's face.
"No man will ever stop me, pissant. You will grow tired and I will drain you too. No, instead I will make you another slave to my will and you will watch as I take your wife as my own and have you watch as I bed her over and over unt--," Duke was cut of as spears breached the floor of the chapel and impaled his body.
Quincy face changed back to his stern seriousness and he stopped swinging. He threw holy water onto the Duke that sizzled on contact.
"Wood stakes stop vampires from changing their physical form. Blessed water will prevent you from changing to mist and escaping." Quincy calmly said, as he set fire to a burlap of white sage. "The incense of sage will weaken your bond with your demon kin and your incantation will have no effect. Will this silver blade my wife gifted me I will dismember you body and burn your corpse. History will forget about you, vampire."
Quincy pressed the time of the sword to the impaled vampire's chest and leaned in to the vampires ear, "My wife drinks a tea of Nightblossom, garlic and honey every evening. You curse has not infected her. Just like the others, your 'power' is what makes you weak."
The Dukes eyes opened wide for a moment. He had been outmatched and outsmarted by a mere human. As the blade penetrated his old leathery flesh and his vision grew dark he recalled for a brief moment his past life. He whimpered a call to his beloved, passed on centuries ago, "Johanna.." | |
[WP] Every planet has its gods. Earth's gods have been exhausted by overpopulation, but you are the first person on Mars and the gods there are desperate to please you. | It was another beautiful sunset across the Gale Crater. As the sun dropped behind Aeolis Mons, the wind of Mars settled down around their diminutive companion.
Mars had been a boring, boring world for a very, very long time. The wind remembered a different time, another time. It had been so much stronger then. It had gusted across the world, fat on air and steam both, and savored the bustle of change that it wrought across the landscape. It sculpted mountains, watched its brother the water carve lakebeds and tributaries. In places, the wind and water had even had worshippers, and the tiny creatures had dyed the shores of whole lakes pink and orange as they grew fat on sunlight.
But that had been a long time ago. Before the solar wind had torn at Mars like uncounted sand particles blasting away the veneer of a house. How the wind had howled as it had watched its brother die. How it had howled as it felt itself *reduced*, pared down to a ghost of its former self.
The wind was only a whisper now. Some days it mourned its brother or the little lives that had been lost before they had even known anything as simple as that they were, cast dust devils across the craters in their honor. Some days it reveled in the power it still had, drew storms across tracts of land so large it would make even the potent elder gods of Earth writhe in jealousy. Some days it blew down across the last few residues of volcanoes left, their potency long exhausted. That terrible forge in Mars' center, that which had given rise to the gods of Mars themselves that laid curled up like a great serpent in the centre of the earth, either sleeping or dead.
These new visitors had come as a surprise. The wind had thought they were offerings when it had first come across them, or some new form of meteorite perhaps. When they'd started to move, it had watched sadly at first, for the residues of life trapped in asteroid matter had been tossed down onto the pitiless surface of Mars before. They never lasted long.
But instead it had stayed still for just long enough for the winds to think it was dead, twitched its arms and limbs fitfully as though trying to remember they were there, and then set off at a comically slow pace across the surface. It did so for about the amount of time it took for the winds of Mars to notice. Then it had died.
This had come as something of an anticlimax for the withered god until, drawing itself across the surface, it had found another, a stillbirth that had gone unnoticed amongst the many other flotsam and debris that fell down the well onto the shores of Mars' surface. But still: Two little creatures, hurled from gods-knew-not-where, down into Mars.
The next one lasted a little longer, but, all things considered, still not very long at all. The winds buried it where it lay, cast a dust storm in its honor.
There had been others still after that, each one traveling a little further than the last, chasing errands across the surface with comical slowness. Running until the grit fouled their impractical spinning limbs, peering curiously into the dirt with unmatched fascination until they went blind. The wind helped at times. Some days it blew the dust off of their solar panels, other days it brought them gifts from afar, whatever paltry exotics it could find for them to celebrate.
They really seemed to like methane. The wind couldn't fathom why.
One lasted for so long that it had become the winds' favorite. It ran haltingly and pathetically slowly across the sands, but it did so slowly and steadily, creeping along ever further. It crawled through empty red plains. It bore itself at length up the pitiless hills and cliffs at the edges of crater after crater. It stopped at times for any element of strangeness.
The wind favored it the most. Once, when it had first landed, the wind had dragged one of its oldest meteorites across the surface, hidden it mischeviously behind a piece of debris left behind by the creature's own arrival. The little one had peered at it for over a month, contemplating it in total silence before setting forth once again.
But year after year passed, and the creature grew slower, and more careful, and slept more and more often. The joints of its arm grew clumsy and gritted. Yet it strived onwards, driven endlessly forward by something it seemed only a puppet to. It was beginning to forget things, and at times it would simply freeze up completely.
The wind knew something of being driven onwards without end. And it knew something of being reduced, with only a distant memory of what it was to *truly* exist.
When it seemed the little creature could go no further, the wind gathered a cloak for it from across the whole of the planet, and drew it over its friend like a blanket. At length, it finally moved no more, and laid at peace.
Perhaps whoever had cast it here would come for it. Someday.
For now, the sun rose again, and with it, the wind pulled the grit and sand off of its last companion on Mars. Watched as it, at length, began to move once again towards unknown places and incomprehensible goals.
The winds cast across the world once more, murmuring where they once howled. Searching craters and plains for the next one.
There would be more, it knew.
Soon enough. | When I was in space, in the nothingness that is the void of the emptiness of wholly lacking of everything at once NOTHING, it became all too apparent that I was alone. Not another crew member for company. Even the little voice in my head that normally guided me through my daily routine had somehow abandoned me.
It had started to fade out near the end of the atmosphere. Then, I almost felt myself go crazy as the little voice told me "Goodbye, for now." and then simply ceased to exist. For the following three days I had been wracked with self doubt and a strange sense of loneliness that was impossible to truly describe to anyone within a hundred miles of a plant, or the ground, or oxygen, or the little voice that tells you that it's all going to work out in the end. I started to create theories on God's origin while in space.
The real reason I had been sent here in the first place was to see if mars was inhabitable. Even if it was only for a few days, that would be enough. My goal was to setup a base camp with my first few weeks of residence and then return to earth before the orbit goes out of line again. I had been in space for 5 months. Tomorrow was landing day. The ship does all the heavy lifting, so for the most part my job ends up being cuddle the control panel and babysit the radio. I had a journal with a page for every day that I was gone. I had filled the whole thing and started writing on spare medical journals. I knew my thoughts had to be unique as this feeling was apart from any that I had experienced on earth. Weightless. I wasn't tethered to my responsibility, just loosely holding on because I wanted them there. God became me for just a moment, as the last memory of earth seemed to slip physically into my past. Before me, and most certainly in my future was the big red ball growing steadily with my approach.
"I NEED TO GET OUT OF THIS DAMNED POD!" I screamed to nobody but myself and the on-board life support system that would eventually radio the cry for help back to Houston... Eventually. Long before this time, I pulled my suit on and bolted for the slow ramp. Everyone loves the slow ramp, unless nobody's around to see it of course. The moment would be filmed and displayed around the world but the first step would be re-recorded the following day, when the rest of the world think's I'm landing. They're even going to make me look like a hero by saying that there's a problem on landing and I had to stabilize the craft by hand. HA! As if anyone could do that. I bolted down the ramp the moment it touched the dirt of the planet. Playing with the gravity, I leaped with all my might, flying a solid 4 feet, in the heavy equipment, landing on the very end of the ramp. "One small step for me, and one big leap for me again, because fuck you Neil!" I stepped off of the ramp and onto the planet, and then it happened. NASA wouldn't be able to give me lines or anything until they get the notice that I landed safely. It'll take about 15 hours. Until then I play around, explore the planet and prepare to be a hero immortalized for the rest of my life. If I make it that long.
A hero isn't afraid.
The voice seemed to resonate from the back of my mind. I didn't fear the voice, and yet I feared the power. It flowed through my body in a way that I had never felt before. I don't know if there's a feeling for it anymore, but I felt my body breathing the planet around me, without using my lungs, passing dust and rock and core through me, and then...
Are you the Hero of Mars, or are you a phony?
The voice accused. I looked around, wondering if there was anyone around to explain the phenomenon. With nothing for miles, I faced my demons. "I am. They wouldn't have sent me if I wasn't." I muttered, both filled with truth and determination, as well as a hint of disbelief. I never truly thought that I was any different from anybody else. Just a man. Hero was a stretch for any man. But Hero described people who pushed things to the limit and set goals for others to reach for. "I made an entire generation reach towards the stars again... If that's not a hero, then no man is." I said matter-of-factually to the voice.
What do you seek, Hero of Mars?
"Water." I felt as if I was talking to something more powerful, but it was inside of me. "Are you God?" I asked curiously, thinking of my wonders while traveling the abyss.
Yarwen? That old fool has too much on his plate.
"So what are you?" I asked.
I am Amprosania. I define this planet.
"You define the dusty barren landscape?" A sharp, burning pain exploded in my head where the voice came from.
DUSTY AND BARREN?
"Sorry. It's beautiful! Pink is the new black." I whimpered, then the pain subsided quickly.
I apologize, human. I am not a merciless god.
A few thoughts crossed my mind that seemed fairly inconsiderate, before I settled on the question "What kind of god are you?"
I hope to be a good one. You seek water? Now you have found it.
All of a sudden, the area surrounding the ship became flooded as water spurted from the cracks in the ground. The planet provided. "Holy... I have GOT to tell the guys back home about this." I turned and bounded back up the ramp into the metal tube and jabbed at the communications button until I had a direct line to the NASA compound.
"I'm... I'm communicating with the God of Mars..." I said into the radio. Now to wait 15 hours with a God and we'll see if NASA figures out something is up before they get my message. It appears the surface of the planet has become completely covered by water since I landed, so some people might start to get concerned... I'm excited to see what else can be generated in such abundance in a snap. Gold? Love? Life? What is this God? What are they capable of? What did I find? | |
[WP] Every planet has its gods. Earth's gods have been exhausted by overpopulation, but you are the first person on Mars and the gods there are desperate to please you. | A dusky red sky greets me once again, the early morning on Mars not something I ever expected to get used to. Maybe I won’t, but something felt so empty on this planet of rocks and desert. Possibly being the first and only human here was affecting my psyche a little more than anticipated, but I don’t think too hard on it as I stretch and remove myself from my covers.
The winds began to knock against my glass panes, the dust kicking up at random from beyond. In the middle of a swirl, an ethereal and nearly blinding light manifests and seemingly stares at me. I blink, hoping the previous nights sleep was still contorting my vision, but after a good few rubs, the light and swirl of dust surrounding it began to move closer.
I step back so far I’m already pressed against the opposite wall. The light phases through my window, leaving the dust outside as it physically begins to transform before me.
“Do not fear,” A feminine voice vibrates through my being and mind.
“Isn’t that what the angels say?” I blink slowly, still unsure of what I was speaking to and the level of concern I should have for my safety.
“If that makes you comfortable and easier to familiarize, then yes. Technically, I am a god, one of many coming here. To you.” She becomes a solid mass, her skin and hair golden red in the light. She wore no clothes, fully exposed and prepared for something I was unsure of.
“Okay,” I swallow, “Why here? Why me?”
Her gentle caress finds my under-chin, her smile illuminating brighter than the reflection of sand. “You are all alone, with no affiliation to Earth and it’s creatures. You are special, and I would do anything for your praise.”
“I don’t, I mean I never even did that on Earth?”
“Perfection,” Her light flared brightly as she grew taller, stretching through but not destroying the ceiling. “Love me, adore me, and I shall shower you in treasures and good fortune. I am Armosa, Goddess of Mars, and soon you will build a shrine in my honor so I may be taken seriously by my brethren.” She was very passionate, extending her hand out to me and leading me outside without my space suit.
“Collect me as your own, and I can promise you eternity within my grace.” She ruffles my hair before taking a few steps in front of me, extending her arms to the sky and breathing deeply. I watch as she expands upward quickly, taller than any skyscraper I had ever seen. Her body dissipates into pure light once more, a small assortment of rocks and objects I’d never seen.
“Make me in your image, become one with this world. Be free here, make this planet yours.”
As I organize the shrine, a strong gust of wind destroys my work, another feminine voice angrily cursing the name of Amrosa.
“Do not, small human.” A deep blue light manifests now, summoning great energy beneath her as the ground cracks where she now stands. Her deep black eyes frighten me, but I am unnaturally calmed by her presence. “Amrosa is no friend, she will destroy this planet in her image more so than has already been done.” Her deep, galaxy blue hand sweeps over the landscape. “I am Demoria, Goddess of Air and Sea. She has stricken me with grief at the loss of my only son, the first born Martian and your ancestor.”
Impossible, I think to myself. I was brought here from Earth.
“Not so, he was banished to Earth, and I swore his fertility and ample child bearing for this moment, this chance to change the fate of my beloved planet.”
I could feel her anger, the mistreatment of her love and child, the exile imposed upon them. She keeps her distance, but watches me carefully.
Amrosa appears again, her reddish glow prominent and glaring. “He was damned from the start, he would have destroyed this planet had I not -.”
“It is destroyed! Look around you, heathen! I curse your name.” Demoria spits at the ground, her dark features swirling inside of her.
“To the stars with you, Demoria. The human shall choose who will impregnate and repopulate this planet.” Amrosa and Demoria both come face to face with me, now hyperventilating at the prospect of choosing who will... impregnate me? A shiver courses through my spine, this was not part of the deal I was given.
“Build a shrine in one of our honors, the land and sky and seas belong to you and the offspring that will bring life once more to this world.”
I take several steps back, unable to bring myself to a decision and quickly forgetting I am without a space suit. Their arguing continued as my face turns red, then purple, then blue. Beyond myself and this place, I guess they’ll have to wait for my brother to get here. | When I was in space, in the nothingness that is the void of the emptiness of wholly lacking of everything at once NOTHING, it became all too apparent that I was alone. Not another crew member for company. Even the little voice in my head that normally guided me through my daily routine had somehow abandoned me.
It had started to fade out near the end of the atmosphere. Then, I almost felt myself go crazy as the little voice told me "Goodbye, for now." and then simply ceased to exist. For the following three days I had been wracked with self doubt and a strange sense of loneliness that was impossible to truly describe to anyone within a hundred miles of a plant, or the ground, or oxygen, or the little voice that tells you that it's all going to work out in the end. I started to create theories on God's origin while in space.
The real reason I had been sent here in the first place was to see if mars was inhabitable. Even if it was only for a few days, that would be enough. My goal was to setup a base camp with my first few weeks of residence and then return to earth before the orbit goes out of line again. I had been in space for 5 months. Tomorrow was landing day. The ship does all the heavy lifting, so for the most part my job ends up being cuddle the control panel and babysit the radio. I had a journal with a page for every day that I was gone. I had filled the whole thing and started writing on spare medical journals. I knew my thoughts had to be unique as this feeling was apart from any that I had experienced on earth. Weightless. I wasn't tethered to my responsibility, just loosely holding on because I wanted them there. God became me for just a moment, as the last memory of earth seemed to slip physically into my past. Before me, and most certainly in my future was the big red ball growing steadily with my approach.
"I NEED TO GET OUT OF THIS DAMNED POD!" I screamed to nobody but myself and the on-board life support system that would eventually radio the cry for help back to Houston... Eventually. Long before this time, I pulled my suit on and bolted for the slow ramp. Everyone loves the slow ramp, unless nobody's around to see it of course. The moment would be filmed and displayed around the world but the first step would be re-recorded the following day, when the rest of the world think's I'm landing. They're even going to make me look like a hero by saying that there's a problem on landing and I had to stabilize the craft by hand. HA! As if anyone could do that. I bolted down the ramp the moment it touched the dirt of the planet. Playing with the gravity, I leaped with all my might, flying a solid 4 feet, in the heavy equipment, landing on the very end of the ramp. "One small step for me, and one big leap for me again, because fuck you Neil!" I stepped off of the ramp and onto the planet, and then it happened. NASA wouldn't be able to give me lines or anything until they get the notice that I landed safely. It'll take about 15 hours. Until then I play around, explore the planet and prepare to be a hero immortalized for the rest of my life. If I make it that long.
A hero isn't afraid.
The voice seemed to resonate from the back of my mind. I didn't fear the voice, and yet I feared the power. It flowed through my body in a way that I had never felt before. I don't know if there's a feeling for it anymore, but I felt my body breathing the planet around me, without using my lungs, passing dust and rock and core through me, and then...
Are you the Hero of Mars, or are you a phony?
The voice accused. I looked around, wondering if there was anyone around to explain the phenomenon. With nothing for miles, I faced my demons. "I am. They wouldn't have sent me if I wasn't." I muttered, both filled with truth and determination, as well as a hint of disbelief. I never truly thought that I was any different from anybody else. Just a man. Hero was a stretch for any man. But Hero described people who pushed things to the limit and set goals for others to reach for. "I made an entire generation reach towards the stars again... If that's not a hero, then no man is." I said matter-of-factually to the voice.
What do you seek, Hero of Mars?
"Water." I felt as if I was talking to something more powerful, but it was inside of me. "Are you God?" I asked curiously, thinking of my wonders while traveling the abyss.
Yarwen? That old fool has too much on his plate.
"So what are you?" I asked.
I am Amprosania. I define this planet.
"You define the dusty barren landscape?" A sharp, burning pain exploded in my head where the voice came from.
DUSTY AND BARREN?
"Sorry. It's beautiful! Pink is the new black." I whimpered, then the pain subsided quickly.
I apologize, human. I am not a merciless god.
A few thoughts crossed my mind that seemed fairly inconsiderate, before I settled on the question "What kind of god are you?"
I hope to be a good one. You seek water? Now you have found it.
All of a sudden, the area surrounding the ship became flooded as water spurted from the cracks in the ground. The planet provided. "Holy... I have GOT to tell the guys back home about this." I turned and bounded back up the ramp into the metal tube and jabbed at the communications button until I had a direct line to the NASA compound.
"I'm... I'm communicating with the God of Mars..." I said into the radio. Now to wait 15 hours with a God and we'll see if NASA figures out something is up before they get my message. It appears the surface of the planet has become completely covered by water since I landed, so some people might start to get concerned... I'm excited to see what else can be generated in such abundance in a snap. Gold? Love? Life? What is this God? What are they capable of? What did I find? | |
[WP] Every planet has its gods. Earth's gods have been exhausted by overpopulation, but you are the first person on Mars and the gods there are desperate to please you. | It was another beautiful sunset across the Gale Crater. As the sun dropped behind Aeolis Mons, the wind of Mars settled down around their diminutive companion.
Mars had been a boring, boring world for a very, very long time. The wind remembered a different time, another time. It had been so much stronger then. It had gusted across the world, fat on air and steam both, and savored the bustle of change that it wrought across the landscape. It sculpted mountains, watched its brother the water carve lakebeds and tributaries. In places, the wind and water had even had worshippers, and the tiny creatures had dyed the shores of whole lakes pink and orange as they grew fat on sunlight.
But that had been a long time ago. Before the solar wind had torn at Mars like uncounted sand particles blasting away the veneer of a house. How the wind had howled as it had watched its brother die. How it had howled as it felt itself *reduced*, pared down to a ghost of its former self.
The wind was only a whisper now. Some days it mourned its brother or the little lives that had been lost before they had even known anything as simple as that they were, cast dust devils across the craters in their honor. Some days it reveled in the power it still had, drew storms across tracts of land so large it would make even the potent elder gods of Earth writhe in jealousy. Some days it blew down across the last few residues of volcanoes left, their potency long exhausted. That terrible forge in Mars' center, that which had given rise to the gods of Mars themselves that laid curled up like a great serpent in the centre of the earth, either sleeping or dead.
These new visitors had come as a surprise. The wind had thought they were offerings when it had first come across them, or some new form of meteorite perhaps. When they'd started to move, it had watched sadly at first, for the residues of life trapped in asteroid matter had been tossed down onto the pitiless surface of Mars before. They never lasted long.
But instead it had stayed still for just long enough for the winds to think it was dead, twitched its arms and limbs fitfully as though trying to remember they were there, and then set off at a comically slow pace across the surface. It did so for about the amount of time it took for the winds of Mars to notice. Then it had died.
This had come as something of an anticlimax for the withered god until, drawing itself across the surface, it had found another, a stillbirth that had gone unnoticed amongst the many other flotsam and debris that fell down the well onto the shores of Mars' surface. But still: Two little creatures, hurled from gods-knew-not-where, down into Mars.
The next one lasted a little longer, but, all things considered, still not very long at all. The winds buried it where it lay, cast a dust storm in its honor.
There had been others still after that, each one traveling a little further than the last, chasing errands across the surface with comical slowness. Running until the grit fouled their impractical spinning limbs, peering curiously into the dirt with unmatched fascination until they went blind. The wind helped at times. Some days it blew the dust off of their solar panels, other days it brought them gifts from afar, whatever paltry exotics it could find for them to celebrate.
They really seemed to like methane. The wind couldn't fathom why.
One lasted for so long that it had become the winds' favorite. It ran haltingly and pathetically slowly across the sands, but it did so slowly and steadily, creeping along ever further. It crawled through empty red plains. It bore itself at length up the pitiless hills and cliffs at the edges of crater after crater. It stopped at times for any element of strangeness.
The wind favored it the most. Once, when it had first landed, the wind had dragged one of its oldest meteorites across the surface, hidden it mischeviously behind a piece of debris left behind by the creature's own arrival. The little one had peered at it for over a month, contemplating it in total silence before setting forth once again.
But year after year passed, and the creature grew slower, and more careful, and slept more and more often. The joints of its arm grew clumsy and gritted. Yet it strived onwards, driven endlessly forward by something it seemed only a puppet to. It was beginning to forget things, and at times it would simply freeze up completely.
The wind knew something of being driven onwards without end. And it knew something of being reduced, with only a distant memory of what it was to *truly* exist.
When it seemed the little creature could go no further, the wind gathered a cloak for it from across the whole of the planet, and drew it over its friend like a blanket. At length, it finally moved no more, and laid at peace.
Perhaps whoever had cast it here would come for it. Someday.
For now, the sun rose again, and with it, the wind pulled the grit and sand off of its last companion on Mars. Watched as it, at length, began to move once again towards unknown places and incomprehensible goals.
The winds cast across the world once more, murmuring where they once howled. Searching craters and plains for the next one.
There would be more, it knew.
Soon enough. | They called him the son of Mars
But in the papers the editors derided him
“Martian Jesus” and Jesus fucking Christ the memes they made
Son of God? No. But son of a bitch, Martian gods adopt
Their new ward himself was a castaway and the red pantheon took him as their first and favorite child. They gave him all the panoply of war and Mars’ first son made his name on earth.
There was a red planet and a blue planet. Now, a red planet and a dead planet.
In time the soil and the water would come back.
Meantime, the son of Mars kicked back.
Gaia is dead; soon she’ll be back. But the son of Mars still laughed and kicked back. | |
[WP] Every planet has its gods. Earth's gods have been exhausted by overpopulation, but you are the first person on Mars and the gods there are desperate to please you. | A dusky red sky greets me once again, the early morning on Mars not something I ever expected to get used to. Maybe I won’t, but something felt so empty on this planet of rocks and desert. Possibly being the first and only human here was affecting my psyche a little more than anticipated, but I don’t think too hard on it as I stretch and remove myself from my covers.
The winds began to knock against my glass panes, the dust kicking up at random from beyond. In the middle of a swirl, an ethereal and nearly blinding light manifests and seemingly stares at me. I blink, hoping the previous nights sleep was still contorting my vision, but after a good few rubs, the light and swirl of dust surrounding it began to move closer.
I step back so far I’m already pressed against the opposite wall. The light phases through my window, leaving the dust outside as it physically begins to transform before me.
“Do not fear,” A feminine voice vibrates through my being and mind.
“Isn’t that what the angels say?” I blink slowly, still unsure of what I was speaking to and the level of concern I should have for my safety.
“If that makes you comfortable and easier to familiarize, then yes. Technically, I am a god, one of many coming here. To you.” She becomes a solid mass, her skin and hair golden red in the light. She wore no clothes, fully exposed and prepared for something I was unsure of.
“Okay,” I swallow, “Why here? Why me?”
Her gentle caress finds my under-chin, her smile illuminating brighter than the reflection of sand. “You are all alone, with no affiliation to Earth and it’s creatures. You are special, and I would do anything for your praise.”
“I don’t, I mean I never even did that on Earth?”
“Perfection,” Her light flared brightly as she grew taller, stretching through but not destroying the ceiling. “Love me, adore me, and I shall shower you in treasures and good fortune. I am Armosa, Goddess of Mars, and soon you will build a shrine in my honor so I may be taken seriously by my brethren.” She was very passionate, extending her hand out to me and leading me outside without my space suit.
“Collect me as your own, and I can promise you eternity within my grace.” She ruffles my hair before taking a few steps in front of me, extending her arms to the sky and breathing deeply. I watch as she expands upward quickly, taller than any skyscraper I had ever seen. Her body dissipates into pure light once more, a small assortment of rocks and objects I’d never seen.
“Make me in your image, become one with this world. Be free here, make this planet yours.”
As I organize the shrine, a strong gust of wind destroys my work, another feminine voice angrily cursing the name of Amrosa.
“Do not, small human.” A deep blue light manifests now, summoning great energy beneath her as the ground cracks where she now stands. Her deep black eyes frighten me, but I am unnaturally calmed by her presence. “Amrosa is no friend, she will destroy this planet in her image more so than has already been done.” Her deep, galaxy blue hand sweeps over the landscape. “I am Demoria, Goddess of Air and Sea. She has stricken me with grief at the loss of my only son, the first born Martian and your ancestor.”
Impossible, I think to myself. I was brought here from Earth.
“Not so, he was banished to Earth, and I swore his fertility and ample child bearing for this moment, this chance to change the fate of my beloved planet.”
I could feel her anger, the mistreatment of her love and child, the exile imposed upon them. She keeps her distance, but watches me carefully.
Amrosa appears again, her reddish glow prominent and glaring. “He was damned from the start, he would have destroyed this planet had I not -.”
“It is destroyed! Look around you, heathen! I curse your name.” Demoria spits at the ground, her dark features swirling inside of her.
“To the stars with you, Demoria. The human shall choose who will impregnate and repopulate this planet.” Amrosa and Demoria both come face to face with me, now hyperventilating at the prospect of choosing who will... impregnate me? A shiver courses through my spine, this was not part of the deal I was given.
“Build a shrine in one of our honors, the land and sky and seas belong to you and the offspring that will bring life once more to this world.”
I take several steps back, unable to bring myself to a decision and quickly forgetting I am without a space suit. Their arguing continued as my face turns red, then purple, then blue. Beyond myself and this place, I guess they’ll have to wait for my brother to get here. | They called him the son of Mars
But in the papers the editors derided him
“Martian Jesus” and Jesus fucking Christ the memes they made
Son of God? No. But son of a bitch, Martian gods adopt
Their new ward himself was a castaway and the red pantheon took him as their first and favorite child. They gave him all the panoply of war and Mars’ first son made his name on earth.
There was a red planet and a blue planet. Now, a red planet and a dead planet.
In time the soil and the water would come back.
Meantime, the son of Mars kicked back.
Gaia is dead; soon she’ll be back. But the son of Mars still laughed and kicked back. | |
[WP] A rusty old sword sits in its display case in a museum, reminiscing about its past. | "Pssst. Hey you."
A pause. The boy walking by the rustic sword case turned his eyes staunchly forward, remembering the warning that had been given at the museum entrance. This is an old gathering of relics. Beware if they speak to you; do not heed their wishes, for they are forlorn contraptions of a bitter past.
"Wait. I'm talking to you. You want power, right?"
"No, I don't want power. Why does everyone assume that I want power." Before he realized it, he had muttered it out loud. The sword had heard. Although, he supposed, he wasn't so sure of the mechanics. Did these things speak to your mind? Thus, could they see into your mind?
"Rage... You possess a deep rage within you, do you not? With power, you could quell it and begin anew, building a world of your own creation."
Strangely compelled, Dorian cast his eyes back over to the sword's case, moving towards it slowly. "But you don't know. You don't know what it's like now. You've been in here how long?" He mused over the jagged edges of the sword's roughened blade, the hilt that had once been embroidered by kingly emblems and held by ancient hands.
"Centuries, my boy," came the reply. "I have been companion of many a conqueror, the most trusted and knowledgeable adviser of many. And yet here I lie in the recesses of an old museum. One might consider me trapped, a shell of my former self. But I... rather, I consider myself quite patient. Few hear more than whispers, but when I finally find someone worth the wait..."
Dorian drew a breath in. "No," he murmured. "You're an old relic, aren't you?" He cast his eyes downward, and then exhaled, kneeling down to bring his face level with the old blade, the glint barely visible but there.
"Come closer," the sword seemed to croon. "I may be old, but I have waited so long for you."
Knowing he might regret it, Dorian closed his eyes and pressed his face to the glass, cool and hard and old. And then there were images flashing through his head. A mosaic of different pictures and colors and times, yet all shared a similar vibe. It was the sword's ancient knowledge and experience, the strange feeling of glory and loss conveyed only through sheer magnitude. Dorian was connected, as the sword had seen fit to share some of the most poignant images of its past. He was only left to wonder what exactly it was about him that this sword so desired.
"Opal. My name is Opal. That is my first and true name, not whatever etymology finds its way inscribed onto my case."
Dorian opened his eyes and nodded. Where to look? Where on the sword to rest his eyes on? He was entranced - he had been given only a mere taste of what Opal had to offer.
"Lift it," continued the voice. "and hold me to the light, so that I may once more feel what it is like to be unburdened."
He obeyed, cautiously, but no alarms or security interrupted as the case slid almost easily off the podium. Hesitating, he reached a hand out - and then there was something akin to a magnified pull, which brought his hand encased over jewels of old, a strange but familiar feeling grasped within his palm.
Shudders seem to racket both sword and carrier, until finally, Dorian walked into the light and both could breath.
He heard it. The sword seemed alive. Now its gleam was fully present, its luster uncaked by the cogs of time.
"It is nice to meet you, Dorian. I know we will have the most marvelous time together." | A sword's purpose is to kill.
Those who had wielded me in the past had many different purposes, but a sword's purpose is to kill.
It is the only reason why I am on display, marbled by many, every different day.
Many are attracted to me, I can tell from their eyes. I find it odd because I was designed to kill people just like them. That was my purpose, just as my Master intended.
I am my Master's greatest creation. Everything he has ever done in his life, all culminated to my creation. His life's work. His greatest pride.
I can tell people have changed. The looks in their eyes, I see no fear. A person without fear is just a person waiting to die. Let me fulfill my purpose, my master. I have never seen so many people just wanting to die.
I have heard of the place called Hell. This must be it. | |
[WP] Everyone wakes up with the ability to sense other people's comfort zones. They feel uncomfortable when inside of a zone, with the feeling growing more intense the closer they are to the person. Your zone is 100 miles in diameter, and you have been classified as a walking natural disaster. | The last time i got close enough to talk to somebody, they had a panic attack and threw up. Then ran away. I'm sorry mom.
A comfort zone is a safe space. Stepping inside someone's personal space creates an intense feeling of alienation. You're encroaching on their identity, their entire being.
After everybody awakened the ability to feel each other's comfort zones, humanity isolated themselves to save their sanity.
But after a few months, people needed the physical connection and they came together. Barriers were let down and a tenuous peace was held. People only felt comfortable being close with others. Small personal space bubbles were the norm. Those with large comfort zones were ostracized heavily and kept to themselves. The odd segregation worked.
Then there was me. Everybody maintained distance from each other, a few yards at most. I was a minimum of 10 yards at all times. And once i became more uncomfortable and unwelcomed, people started keeping out of my sight altogether.
It was horrible at first. The lonliness elicited sympathy from people and they attempted to get close to me, but they just couldnt do it.
And then instead of cracking, i was okay with it. I didnt like people getting too close. I didnt like their gazes or frowns or violence of shouting. They couldnt hurt me. I had the world to myself and i never needed another human again.
Staying in any towns caused the city to vacate itself. My radius was somewhere around 100 miles. I know this because they tracked it on the weather channel.
Out of obligation for the rest of the human race, i moved out to a cabin in the north. I lived with nature, and thats all i needed.
But then one day, i heard a knock on my door. I felt...uneasy? That hadnt happened in years. As i cracked the frosted door, a girl pushed it open all the way and stared into my eyes. She was as foreign to me as any other animal would be.
There was a sort of haze i felt as we locked eyes. I was uncomfortable, and she looked like she was in excruciating pain. Like a dizzy mess ready to fall apart. It had been so long since id been so close to another person.
She staggered forward and wrapped her arms around me. I was too stunned to say anything. To my further surprise, she began to talk.
"I know how you live in a world by yourself. And you dont care who's around."
It had been so long since id spoken any words aloud. They failed to come to me now too.
She continued, "But i knew there was an eye in the center of the storm. And if you had someone who had walked 100 miles to see you, maybe you wouldn't be so comfortable being alone anymore."
And that was it...me standing in the middle of my cabin on a snowy day, being hugged by someone in my personal space bubble, because they wanted me to feel uncomfortable being alone.
Merry Christmas Everybody | I used to be angry about it, this never ending loneliness. It would smother me until the rage seemed to sit in my very bones.
Yes, I was angry.
It hurt watching my closest friends and family drift away, as steady as a stream winds down a mountain. I missed them. I missed the waffles my mother made for me and my siblings. I missed driving with my best friend singing along with the radio. Eventually I even began to miss Mr. Cunningham’s early morning lawn mower.
They said they would call, once a week at the very least. That lasted about a month, maybe two. Time became irrelevant to me. My parents would call almost every night, but even they started to forget their daughter.
After weeks without any human interaction, I would just lay there in my bed, eyes focused on the ceiling. Not that it mattered. Who would care? As I stared, I thought. I wondered why they didn’t care anymore. It wasn’t my fault. I didn’t choose to drive them away. They were the ones who left. They were the ones who ignored my calls. They were the ones who forgot. They were the ones at fault!
My anger pushed me upright. Through a red haze, I showered, dressed, dried my hair. I put on makeup, ate some food. Then, I opened the door.
If I had to be uncomfortable, everyone else would be too. | |
[WP] Everyone wakes up with the ability to sense other people's comfort zones. They feel uncomfortable when inside of a zone, with the feeling growing more intense the closer they are to the person. Your zone is 100 miles in diameter, and you have been classified as a walking natural disaster. | I awoke to the sound of the wind howling outside of my window and the sting of the bitter cold against my nose. I opened my eyes and rubbed the crust from them before pulling the blanket over my face to warm it. I knew I couldn't lie in bed all day, but the thought was a comforting one. No, I needed to get moving. There was too much to do today. The sun would be up soon.
The cold was uninviting to my old bones as I shambled out of bed and into the restroom. I peed towards the relative direction of my toilet until I heard water. I flushed and left the restroom, pulling my robe off the hook and over my naked body. I started my coffee and turned on the computer so I could read the news before starting my day.
Political strife. Wildfires. Melting glaciers. Nazi's popping up again. World seemed to be going to hell, and the comfort zones popping up only seemed to accelerate the tribalism we'd been seeing. It was easier to find other like minded people, and more difficult for the government to track them. I finished my coffee and got my warmest clothes together. I grabbed my gun and moved towards the window, staring out at the bright white tundra that surrounded my little cabin.
Not another human soul for at least another hundred miles. I sighed before pushing the door open and trekking out into the wilds to check my traps. The snow crunched under my feet as I made my way into the woods. After a couple of hours, I was on my way home with a few small woodland animals in my pack. As I walked I turned my eyes skyward and saw a tiny drone- a grey speck in a white winter sky, skim towards my cabin, a package underneath it.
I quickened my pace and upon returning to my cabin I saw upon my stoop a wrapped package. I wasn't much for new technology, but I was very grateful for delivery drones. Not a single soul would deliver a package to me otherwise. The company had been kind enough to set up refueling stations along the way to my home to allow me to receive and send mail. Inside, I set down my pack and quickly unwrapped my package.
There it was in my hands- the book I'd ordered nearly a month ago. There were payment problems and a shipping error, but it was finally in my hands. *Luckasz Symanski: The Walking Natural Disaster*. A young man had chosen to come stay with me for a week so long as I allowed him to write a book about it. He lasted only two days and one night. I decided to read a bit before fixing myself breakfast. I opened the book and skipped the introduction. I found myself partway into the first chapter.
"I knew it the moment I entered his zone. It was a feeling as though a devil was gripping my heart with a touch so foul and poisonous that it caused me to double over. I thought to myself, 'This feeling... Already so intense. Can a man live like this?' I am here to tell you my friends that he can, and his name is Luckasz Symanski. Born in 1934 in the town of Warsaw, he witnessed indescribable horrors the likes of which are likely ineffable to you or me. He is not the only living survivor of those atrocities, however his zone is far more toxic than the others.
I attempted to live within his pain for a week, yet I couldn't remain for longer than a few days. His pain was suffocating and immeasurable. When I asked for the source of his greatest pain, he mentioned the death of his parents and older sister, but his zone became so unbearable to me that I had to ask him to stop. On more than one occasion, I considered suicide while staying with Mr. Symanski. I would stare at his kitchen knives and feel compelled to cut my wrists. I can't begin to fathom how truly horrific his zone must be when he *doesn't* have much sought after company. My first night, I was plagued by nightmares so surreal it was as if I was living them. I awakened the following morning drained of all energy as if I'd never slept at all."
My eyes scanned the pages for a moment longer before I stood up and moved to the stove. I turned it on and stood in the silence. My eyes drifted towards my kitchen knives that hung on the wall.
...
I reached for my pack. Raccoon for breakfast. | My life changed when I got Zoned. That’s what they called it on the news, when it was relevant at least. It happened to a few of us. I guess there were a couple of ‘bugs’ in the biological update every human on earth seemed to get overnight for some still unproven reason. You could say I was lucky enough to be from an economic superpower such as the US because they could afford to give me about two hundred square miles in bum fuck Montana to continue to live with this devolution. Some people were a little less fortunate in places where they lacked the resources and funds. They were either flat out killed or mysteriously went missing. At least they didn’t go insane. China even shot one of their Zoned into space. Pretty sure the guy is dead now, and not orbiting space like they said he would.
I was doing pretty good before all this happened. Had a nice apartment in NYC, my sex life was starting to become, I don’t want to say regular but, occasional. Then all in an instant people couldn’t stand being around me. They felt uncomfortable, they began to sweat in discomfort if they got too close. Some were even susceptible to panic attacks.
There’s no sense in thinking about it…
I looked back up at the tv while it continued to play the same Seinfeld episodes I’ve seen the last 3 years. I tilt my head back on the loveseat and let the tears run down my face. | |
[WP] When a person dies, they play a game of chess with the Grim Reaper for a chance at being brought back to life, and having your afterlife memories wiped. So far nobody has beat Death, except you, the world’s greatest chess player. You are back for your23rd game. | The elevator dinged. If I was alive I was sure my heart would be racing in my chest. Instead I was filled with a sense of dread that increased as I ascended the stairs. Why were there stairs right after I got into the elevator?
The receptionist had explained the rules to me. Beat Death in a chess game, and you win the chance to get another life. You didn't get to choose what it was, but it still beat being dead, right?
I had never played chess before. At least, not in recent memory. Maybe when I was a kid? I couldn't say. It was just never on my radar. In life I prefer to read. Never really found an interest in board games. My husband and I would take the kids to the park on the weekends when they were little, then play video games when they were out by themselves. What else did I even do?
At the top of the stairs was a white room. It was covered in clouds, streaked with purple and blue and glitter. In the middle of the room sat a chess table. A chess timer was propped up on it. A man with white, slicked back hair and a pinstripe suit sat in the chair facing me. When he smiled, I saw his teeth were pointed.
"Welcome, human, to -"
He stopped. Suddenly, his face dropped, all appearances of grandeur he had tried to put in his sentence were gone. "Shit. Seriously? You again." He groand and rubbed his temples. "Fine. Just take a seat. What is your name this time?"
"I -" Just as I was about to say there *was* no other chair, one materialized in front of me. I took a seat opposite him. He moved his white pawn out one space.
"Shawna." I said. Did I even know how to play? My fingers did- they moved my middle black pawn two spaces forward.
"How was your life this time around?" He asked.
"It was...pretty nice?"
Death rolled his eyes. "Of course it was." He moved his knight.
Before I responded with a move of my own, I asked him, "Do you know me? Have we met before?" Then it hit me - "Have I won before?"
His expression darkened and he did not reply as I made my move and hit the timer. He moved a pawn to take one of mine.
"Twenty-three times. You have beaten me twenty-three times."
"What?" I spluttered. "Your receptionist said no one has ever beaten you. Ever."
"Which is a lie, Shawna. It is meant to *impress* and *intimidate*. Not that it would do much for you."
"Is that why?" I could not finish. Somehow I knew how to play this game. I could see his strategy in my mind's eye. Queen to F4. Pawn taken. Bishop into play, rook set up. Checkmate.
But that was a ploy of his. In my memory, we had never played before. But in his, we had played twenty-three times. He was obviously annoyed by me.
"How come I've beaten you so many times?"
Oof. Sore spot for him. He moved his queen to F4. I placed my rook as an invitation for him to take it.
"Couldn't tell you. I think in your first life you were a grandmaster? Or...wait." He smacked his head. "Of course. How could I forget? You invented it."
"I invented *chess*?"
"Well, not you, Shawna." He took the bait. Hit the timer. It had been getting low. "But your first life, yes. You started this trend by challenging me. I shouldn't have listened to your deal. I should be the devil people are making deals with, after all." I took his queen. He cursed. "You had a different face, then. I don't remember all your faces. But I remember your first."
I thought of my husband's face. His curly hair. His ever-present five o'clock shadow. Even when I came back, I would never see him again. Or our kids. Even if I did, would I remember their faces? If only I had more time with them.
Time, as it were, was winding down on this chess game. Three more moves.
"So you have never beaten me?" I asked Death.
He drummed his long, black nails over the board. "That is correct." He took my knight and hit the timer. Two.
"That's hard to believe."
"I understand it must be." He moved his rook to take my pawn. The pieces were stacking up on the side of the table. "But you must."
"I've had twenty-three lives and never remembered any of them?"
"That is correct. Twenty three lives. Faces. Personalities. Experiences."
"Will I remember them if I pass on?"
Death shrugged. "How can I say? You are an unusual case." One more move.
"Well then." My knight, my rook had crept unsuspecting to the other side of the board. My queen was boldly sitting in the middle. "Checkmate."
Death's eyes went red. The room went red. I stood up and held out a hand for him to shake. Begrudgingly, he shook it.
"I'd like to find out." I said to him.
"What?" He snapped.
"What happens when I move on. When I die."
Death furrowed his brow. "What do you mean, Shawna?"
I took a deep breath. "If I am reborn, I will never see my husband again. My kids. I will forget them. I think I've lived too many lives. I think it's time for me to stop. I would like to move on and wait for my husband, when he's ready. That's possible, right?"
Death's face broke out into a grin. "I should think so."
"Thank you."
He placed his hands on my cheeks. He kissed my forehead lightly. His lips were warm and smooth. Everything around me dissolved, and was no more. | “Hello newcomer, wanna play a game?” His smile was crookedly cold and evil a scythe was right next to him I realized he was the grim reaper, I was a murderer so I knew one day I’d meet him “hi grim, what game?” “You know me?!” “Yeah? Doesn’t everybody” “no no adult does” “what about kids?” “ a few but anyway” “ what game anyways?” “Chess” “Mmm sure why not” I replied scooting my chair forward and making my first move since that day I’ve been back 22 times “hello-YOU?!?!? AGAIN?!????” “What? I’ve never been here” “yes you have. This is your 23 time so you died by...” he said pulling out a clip board “ car crash? Again really?” This is your 17 time dying that way” “oh, well why are we here” I asked looking around “you need to beat me in chess so make your move and we’ll be done in about an hour” ”uh ok” I said looking at the board and making a move
“welco- AGAIN??????” “Huh?” “ just make a move”
“Hi grim” “wait? How do you remember me” “you got tired of explaining the rules so you let me keep my memory’s” “let’s just get this over with” I’ve won 30 times now “hey grim I’m done, I’m tired of life” “ wait really?! Now? Ok well we need to do this so” I’m now grims apprentice we’re getting souls by the daily since I’m death, I make people die we challenges them, that’s my story | |
[WP] When a person dies, they play a game of chess with the Grim Reaper for a chance at being brought back to life, and having your afterlife memories wiped. So far nobody has beat Death, except you, the world’s greatest chess player. You are back for your23rd game. | I positioned my black knight, controlling and attacking the center of the board. My gaze flicked up to my opponent. She was pretty, if stark white in complexion, with pitch black hair hanging past her shoulders and a silver ankh hanging from her neck. There was a sort of warm kindness and playfulness in her demeanor. She caught me eyeing her, and smirked.
"Something on your mind?" She asked, placing her piece down, moving out her bishop.
I analyzed her move, "You chose white. Is that because of the whole pale horse thing?"
She laughed, even snorting once, "You were always good at making me laugh, Jim. Twenty-two games and that's the first time you've said that one."
I pushed out a pawn, again focusing on the center of the board. I felt my brows furrow, "When you say twenty-two games, what do you mean? Have we done this before?"
She mirrored my move then pulled her knee up to her chest, heel resting on her chair, "Yup. We play this game each time. Each time I've lost, and each time you've gotten a new life. This'll be your last time here though."
"I don't remember any of those past lives."
"You never do."
"Why?"
"Because," she answered with a shrug. Her tone was that of simple fact, and while it didn't tell me anything, I was content with it.
I moved my knight once more, forking her queen and her rook, "Okay. So why do you do it?"
"Play chess with people?" She asked, moving her queen.
I shook my head and smiled, taking her rook, "Play a game you know you'll lose."
She smiled back, "I guess sometimes its more about enjoying the journey than the waiting till it's all over to be happy. You figured that out a few times."
"Check," I said, taking her queen with my bishop and attacking her king, "Why are you taking it easy on me?"
She paused when she heard this, halfway to reaching for her king, "Would you prefer we stopped playing?"
"No. Yes," I said, "How would I know if I don't remember any of it?"
"That's a good question," she said, moving her king, "But there's a better one."
I thought about this, then asked, "Could I change the stakes?"
"To what, Jim?"
"Could I play for my memories of my past lives."
She smiled her biggest smile yet, "Wondered when you asked. But what about your soul?"
"What's a soul without the memories it earned in life?"
"Still a soul," she said, "But one that's kind of like a fresh piece of paper just waiting for a crayon. Anyways, if you win, you'll get access to all of your memories and experiences, good and bad."
"And if I lose, I move on?" I asked, taking a free pawn.
"After I gloat," she nodded, moving her knight forward, "Like, a lot. We're talking a cargo plane filled with gloat. Either way, you move on though."
I smirked, "I can die with that."
The laughed. Snorted. And I won. Experiencing twenty-two lifetimes in a row as I sat at a table across from death herself. | “Hello newcomer, wanna play a game?” His smile was crookedly cold and evil a scythe was right next to him I realized he was the grim reaper, I was a murderer so I knew one day I’d meet him “hi grim, what game?” “You know me?!” “Yeah? Doesn’t everybody” “no no adult does” “what about kids?” “ a few but anyway” “ what game anyways?” “Chess” “Mmm sure why not” I replied scooting my chair forward and making my first move since that day I’ve been back 22 times “hello-YOU?!?!? AGAIN?!????” “What? I’ve never been here” “yes you have. This is your 23 time so you died by...” he said pulling out a clip board “ car crash? Again really?” This is your 17 time dying that way” “oh, well why are we here” I asked looking around “you need to beat me in chess so make your move and we’ll be done in about an hour” ”uh ok” I said looking at the board and making a move
“welco- AGAIN??????” “Huh?” “ just make a move”
“Hi grim” “wait? How do you remember me” “you got tired of explaining the rules so you let me keep my memory’s” “let’s just get this over with” I’ve won 30 times now “hey grim I’m done, I’m tired of life” “ wait really?! Now? Ok well we need to do this so” I’m now grims apprentice we’re getting souls by the daily since I’m death, I make people die we challenges them, that’s my story | |
[WP] Both humans and aliens are ecstatic that the negotiations are going well, but when the humans say that they need to sleep, the aliens become very, VERY confused. | "Okay. We've made good progress today. Let's take six hours for a sleep break," the lead human negotiater said.
"'Six hours' will be a bit less than ten cycles, sir," an interpreter whispered in Mena's ear.
Mena nodded. "Very well, humans. We will wait here for your return."
The human, who called himself Dr. Stevens, frowned. "You're going to wait here?"
Mena looked around at his staff. "Yes, I believe so. We wish to finish these negotiations rapidly, so we will forego nutritional intake and waste elimination to facilitate the process."
Dr. Stevens furrowed his brow. "You can go so long without eating or sleeping?"
Mena shrugged. "We use our energy very efficiently. As for this 'sleeping', we know not what it is and do not need it."
"Huh. Interesting. Dr. Palmer, write a note about that and make sure it gets over to Dr. Bernstein," Stevens said to an aide near him. He turned back to Mena. "'Sleep' is what we call a period of rest that helps us heal faster and preserve energy. It is dangerous for us to go too long without it."
"How does 'sleep' differ from 'rest'?" Mena asked, confused. "And why do you need to do it?"
"Well... that's... We're not really sure," Dr. Stevens admitted. "Regardless, it is important for us to do it. We could return to our ship, but perhaps it would be easier if you had a room that we could use?"
Mena nodded. "Altnon, please have room Xen 24 cleared out for the humans. It is a large room," he said, addressing Dr. Stevens again," and we will empty it for you. Is there anything else you need?"
"We would only request that the room be darkened and isolated from noise."
"Darkened to... ah, 300 to 750 nanometers?" he asked, reading from a note that his assistant passed him.
"Yes, that will do nicely. Thank you for your hospitality."
*****
For three cycles, Mena sat silently, waiting. He didn't mind the wait. His species, by nature, were patient. The humans almost certainly had shorter lifespans than his people, but it was not his problem if they wished to waste some of their time 'sleeping'.
At least, it wasn't his problem at first. Then his assistant whispered something urgent in his ear.
"It's the humans. They seem to have... that is... we think..."
"What? What is it, Altnon? Have they attacked?" Mena asked worriedly. "Damn them, sound the-"
"No, sir, that's not it. We think... we think they're dead," Altnon whispered hoarsely.
"Dead?" Central would have his head if he accidentally killed a diplomatic party and caused an intergalactic war. "That can't be! What happened?"
Altnon shook his head. "We don't know. They got onto the ground to rest and then... they just stopped moving. We're not sure how it happened. The atmosphere should be perfectly fine for them... Perhaps they lacked sufficient nutrients?"
Mena started shaking. "I can't have this happpen to me."
"Sir, what do we do?"
Mena thought for a moment. "Remove the bodies. I'll.. I'll have to think of what to tell Central."
They walked briskly to room Xen 24.
"Sir, you don't need to see this," Altnon said. "You didn't do this."
"They were my responsibility," Mena said quietly. "I owe it to them to face the consequences of my actions."
A squad of soldiers stood nearby. "We're ready to clear them out whenever, sir," one said.
After a moment of hesitation, Mena nodded. "Do it."
The soldiers walked in and began picking up bodies and hauling them out of the room and onto a cart that had been brought for the purpose.
Mena and Altnon stood and watched respectfully.
"We'll have to send the bodies back to the human homeworld," Altnon said. "They might understand and be able to figure out how this happened. Maybe we can prevent future tragedy."
Mena simply nodded morosely.
Suddenly, some of the soldiers started shouting.
"They're coming back!"
"The undead! They are here!"
"Demons! Kill the undead!"
Shots rang out from the room as the corpses of the humans began to rise from the dead.
"I can't believe it!" Altnon said, backing away from the room. "I thought the undead were simply myths!"
"Wait! Wait! Stop!" one of the corpses yelled as it rose from the cart. It was Dr. Stevens.
"What are you doing?" he asked, horrified.
"You... you're dead!" Mena whispered.
"We were sleeping! That's what sleeping is!"
"You mean you weren't dead?" Mena asked, befuddled.
"We weren't dead until you-"
His final words were interrupted by the soldier's shot that ended his life.
"We've cleared out the last of the undead, sir," a soldier reported, breathing heavily. "Crisis [averted](https://www.reddit.com/r/mpqeg/)." | "S-Sleep?"
"Yessir, think we need to sleep on it – your offer, that is."
The small green men sat across the table conferred amongst themselves. They looked quite like normal people, aside from their green skin, rather short stature, and aquamarine eyes. It would be an understatement that these green men were baffled by the humans' statement just now.
The leader of these green men – Chancellor Pot – refocused their attention on their counterparts. He then spoke in a calm and collected manner.
"President Charles, I apologise for my lack of understanding... but what is this... sleep you humans talk of?"
"Um, sleep?" the human Charles looked towards his kin in confusion, "I mean, don't you rest? We do it – on average, 6-8 hours every night – lying down on our beds."
"We do rest, President," Chancellor Pot chuckled lightly, "but we do not do it 'lying down 6-8 hours every night. No, we do it with our eyes closed–"
"Y-Yeah! Like that, we close our eyes too. Sometimes people blink rapidly, but mostly we 'sleep' lying down, eyes closed, and *maybe* dream about things."
The green men gasped in unison. They looked perplexed and shocked at the revelation. It was as if the humans had told them that the black holes were actually red or not a hole after all.
"Could you... show us, Mr. President?"
"Show you what?"
"A demonstration, perhaps. Of how 'sleep' works."
The humans sat across them suddenly bursted into laughter. One of them walked towards the light switch and dimmed the light in the room. Another walked out a brief moment and brought back hot milk into the room. The president of the humans took off his shoes and suit, pulling a bed compartment from the wall.
"Well, it'd be a first – working by actually sleeping – but someone's gotta do it, right boys?" | |
[WP] When your super power awakened, you were ecstatic. After all, shape-shifting is a rare and powerful ability. After a few months being anything and everything, you realise you can't return to your original body. | Being anyone and anything you want to be can be really cool, for a while at least.
Not until every intelligence agency in the world starts looking for you. I guess that's what happens when you are the only person in the world with superpowers. I got famous pretty quickly after the incident. No one knows my real identity though; they only call me The Shifter on the news.
What was it like to be back in my own body? It's been so long I started to forget.
There's a catch with my ability. I have to actually see the person I want to copy. No pictures or anything like that, I have to look at the real thing for it to work. It even worked on dead people as long as something was still there except ash or dust. But it didn't take long to figure out I could never shapeshift back into my own body. I was wanted man (or woman, or cat, or tiger, or whale; you get the gist). No matter who I turned into, they always looked for the doppelganger with their AI-powered satellites and surveillance cameras. But if I could somehow get back into my own body this hide-and-seek could finally stop. Problem was, I had to look at myself. Sounds simple until you realize that there is no you anymore.
After a while I remembered something. There was still one hope left. My mother always kept my old teeth I lost in elementary school. That might just be the last thing that’s left of me. For once I was actually grateful for her weird sentimental antics.
I shapeshifted into one of our neighbors that was walking their dog that night and sneaked into my parents' home. Even before the incident my parents never wanted to see me again. Long story. If this doesn't work out, I guess they'll get their wish, huh. The key was still under the doormat. How cliché, but it worked in my favor. I really didn’t want to climb through my window. Bad memories. After closing the door behind me I realized that not everyone in this house was asleep. Arnold, our Mastiff was still awake. Damn, he’s gotten old. Still, he was happily wagging his tail at me and welcoming me back. Funny, he never liked strangers. Did he actually recognize me? Or maybe that random neighbor was a friend of my parents? Not important now. I turned into Arnold and went up the stairs into my old room. Searching through the drawers was really hard as a dog, especially when you try to not make too much noise. But after a while I found them. The teeth that could bring me back. The real me. I concentrated hard on them, but I didn't grow into my old body.
For a split second I thought that this was it. Bones worked but teeth didn’t? It was so unfair. I was doomed to live a life on the run. Constantly an imposter. I actually started crying.
Wait, tears? Dogs can’t cry! I turned around and looked into my mirror. What I saw was a familiar-looking kid with big watery eyes staring back at me in surprise. | That reflection we see of ourselves, that familiar face looking back.
Be it the certain angle of somber brown eyes that seem to hide a distant hurt behind a content smile, or the curve of a slender nose to distract from ones thin lips, or locks of hair to better frame a jawline.
Bits and pieces of a puzzle that seem bland and insignificant alone, but when put together, create the visage which defines how we look, how we smile, how we sadden and how we enjoy--it is the ensemble that makes the mirage of the whole.
I forgot how that looked like, how that felt, the bits and pieces falling away as a ripple ruined the reflection, a reflection which now simply shows a blank face.
That was over fifteen years ago.
I watched from outside, comforting orange lights promising warmth through the windows, succor from the cold winter streets outside.
It looked like any bar tucked away in a corner, "Cortarage" written in cursive above the windows. Perhaps it was trying to sound fancy in one way or another, pretentious was the word I'd use.
I entered the bar, the thick fur coat, hat and scarf obscuring my features, not to hide my identity, but to hide the lack of one. My face was a blank sheet, black plain dots for eyes, a nose that seemed featureless, made to simply be a breathing apparatus with no worth beyond functionality, invisible lips giving way to a simple thin line for a mouth.
I had many jobs, most of them made to fit that which I had come to be--a bland empty vessel perfect to be filled with anything one desired. Detective work, sabotage, espionage, and even prostitution. So many people with their sick and twisted desires, be it a violet skin girl with tentacles for arms or a fetish for fur, I could provide it all. I never judged however, I just did what I was paid to do.
Gender, orientation, preferences, they all fall away when you can be anyone and anything.
As bit by bit I removed the garments that donned me, I began to take a more appropriate form. A blonde maiden with locks hanging down, a beautiful skin tight dress that reached down just below the wait and perky breasts given form by the attire. My eyes brow in colour, the bland nose now a petite thing with a slight curvature and succulent lips that with the slightest smirk could promise the most tempting sins.
The bar was just one long path, a bar on the left where a man stood, six arms with three on either side working at impossible speed to mix drinks to those that sat before him.
The ambiance was soft, conversations held between people privately at their tables, the occasional loud shout which told of their distinctive presence. Yet conversations held were held at their own islands, ghosts that came to a public place to commute among themselves as if the rest of the world was invisible and inconsequential--I knew I was.
"Excuse me, honey. I believe there is a man waiting for me in a booth?" I winked at the bartender, he stopped his mixing and served the drinks he prepared. The man stood tall, his posture emanating discipline, the slightest crows feet tickling the corner of his eyes and the slightest mustache to go with the vest, completing his ensemble.
"Ah yes, I believe you are here to see Jack, he is already waiting for you."
"Splendid."
"And what might I call you?"
"Anything you want, darling." Jasmine. That was the name. Yet Jasmine wasn't me, it was the persona I donned, an identity I thought up and created to make up for the life I lost, one of many.
Jasmine was flirtatious, daring, willing to do any unthinkable perverted act as long as she got paid enough for it.
Jasmine was her own person, doing her own things. I didn't enjoy simply being pulled into a gangbang and having every unimaginable thing done to me, but Jasmine certainly did. I just watched from the passengers seat.
"Very well, just walk down the hall, its the curtained booth on the right." The bartender nodded in the direction, seemingly uninterested in Jasmine's tight figure or her lustrous demeanor, or the pheromones released by the very molecular structure that had shifted for Jasmine.
Perhaps the bartender would enjoy meeting Rusty Boland, a fighter pilot with an incredible appetite for men. I make a note to myself and walk down the hall, Jasmine's hips swaying as she could feel the stare of the other men following her to the back. A slight thrill worked itself through Jasmine at the thought of being taken forcefully by a group of strangers.
I walked to the booth at the end, drawing the curtains back.
"I wondered what kind of shape would greet me." I heard the voice say through muffled speakers.
/r/Kikiwrites | |
[WP] When your super power awakened, you were ecstatic. After all, shape-shifting is a rare and powerful ability. After a few months being anything and everything, you realise you can't return to your original body. | Being anyone and anything you want to be can be really cool, for a while at least.
Not until every intelligence agency in the world starts looking for you. I guess that's what happens when you are the only person in the world with superpowers. I got famous pretty quickly after the incident. No one knows my real identity though; they only call me The Shifter on the news.
What was it like to be back in my own body? It's been so long I started to forget.
There's a catch with my ability. I have to actually see the person I want to copy. No pictures or anything like that, I have to look at the real thing for it to work. It even worked on dead people as long as something was still there except ash or dust. But it didn't take long to figure out I could never shapeshift back into my own body. I was wanted man (or woman, or cat, or tiger, or whale; you get the gist). No matter who I turned into, they always looked for the doppelganger with their AI-powered satellites and surveillance cameras. But if I could somehow get back into my own body this hide-and-seek could finally stop. Problem was, I had to look at myself. Sounds simple until you realize that there is no you anymore.
After a while I remembered something. There was still one hope left. My mother always kept my old teeth I lost in elementary school. That might just be the last thing that’s left of me. For once I was actually grateful for her weird sentimental antics.
I shapeshifted into one of our neighbors that was walking their dog that night and sneaked into my parents' home. Even before the incident my parents never wanted to see me again. Long story. If this doesn't work out, I guess they'll get their wish, huh. The key was still under the doormat. How cliché, but it worked in my favor. I really didn’t want to climb through my window. Bad memories. After closing the door behind me I realized that not everyone in this house was asleep. Arnold, our Mastiff was still awake. Damn, he’s gotten old. Still, he was happily wagging his tail at me and welcoming me back. Funny, he never liked strangers. Did he actually recognize me? Or maybe that random neighbor was a friend of my parents? Not important now. I turned into Arnold and went up the stairs into my old room. Searching through the drawers was really hard as a dog, especially when you try to not make too much noise. But after a while I found them. The teeth that could bring me back. The real me. I concentrated hard on them, but I didn't grow into my old body.
For a split second I thought that this was it. Bones worked but teeth didn’t? It was so unfair. I was doomed to live a life on the run. Constantly an imposter. I actually started crying.
Wait, tears? Dogs can’t cry! I turned around and looked into my mirror. What I saw was a familiar-looking kid with big watery eyes staring back at me in surprise. | The Christmas lights flickered behind a closed window, snow softly falling like crumbled feathers. My eyes were searching for the hidden stars, but the heavens had no mercy for those like me.
Revel has died more than seven hundred years ago.
I've watched him slowly bleed out, his dark blood pooling over the white marble.
The grand sorcerer has been killed, but not before his last curse found the one who took away his wretched life.
A golden marking appeared on my chest, burning into my skin, my mortal bones reverberating with the sorcerer's words.
I've lit the torch and with one last look I was running away from the only oath I've ever fulfilled in my life.
See, I was never what they call a good man, and I hardly ever tried to pretend I was one.
But I gave my word to the sorcerer even after he explained me his curse will drive me insane.
Leaving the castle on fire behind me I was running as fast as my legs could carry me, I was running until I no longer felt the pain of the cold wind biting my face or the sharp rocks scrapping my bare feet.
For soon, my body wasn't my own any more, the golden marking on my chest shaping my form into whatever I needed to survive.
After almost a day of running I finally found a clearing with a lake, and when I fell, exhausted, near clear water I saw the reflection of a wolf starting back at me with my own golden eyes.
It was strange – my consciousness never altered much. My reflexes became sharper and my senses guided me in a way no human could understand, but I was always me – a poor Gard orphan, who had no kin and knew no mercy.
I knew they were looking for me, old Revel had warned me I'd have to hide for a while and so I found a pack and stayed with them for one winter.
When the spring came, something inside of me sprouted alive, maybe it was the magic of old or maybe it was that plain desire to live that burned in every being on this earth, and so I left my wolfish family and traveled with birds until I reached the land that haven't heard of my crime.
I lived as a human for a while, working as a blacksmith.
I was changing my form each time I got bored with my simple days or when my conscious was too loud. I lived like and animal and fought like an animal and hunted like and animal and every time I approached a group of wild beasts I was welcomed with generosity I never found in humans, but they never allowed me to forget I was something else.
Ages had passed and since my curse kept my blood fresh as the day I was born I watched the world change with heart of an old man.
There was nothing for me to want and there was nothing for me to hope any more.
So after seven hundred years of life I went to an elm forest and became a tree.
The forest welcomed me,whispering tales in the old language during the long winters and sharing with me the joys of rain during the merry springs. I almost forgot who I was when one November morning I heard a song.
Before I was even aware of the human that was walking among us I remembered Revel's words – When a song finds you it's when you will die.
I've been a part of the forest for twelve winters and it was ho hard to find my human limbs and my human heart again.
It took me a long while to ignite the golden runes and when I finally fell on the ground, naked and blind, my human eyes couldn't understand what the sun was.
The song stopped.
'Are you all right?' Her voice was like a blessing and the blue of her eyes was more powerful than any spell ever casted. 'What happened to you?' She said, covering me with the blanked from her basket.
I wasn't cold. I forgot how to be human and human pains were still strangers to me.
But after that day I sought the human all over the land. I was flying with birds and flowing with rivers, following the unmistakable trail until I finally found her on a snowy night.
This time I couldn't find my voice or my heart. The blood that was dripping from my leg was melting the snow and my breath was becoming slower and quieter.
My yellow eyes were resting on the colorful lights when the door opened.
'Jenny, Jenny, come!' She said. I didn't know her name but I knew her voice and her human scent.
'There's an injured animal outside, hurry!'
Suddenly I felt the scent of another human.
'Rose, it's a wolf!' The human whispered. 'Leave it alone!'
Rose! Her name fitted her well.
I tried to lift my head but there was no strength in me left.
The next time I opened my eyes those colorful lights were close and I was wrong.
I couldn't open my eyes but I recognized her voice – Rose's voice.
'You've lost a lot of blood but the doctor says you'll survive.' She said, her voice trembling. 'But you have to tell who you are.'
I was silent.
'I remember you,' she said. 'I've found you in the woods.'
My heart was beating differently. Like hers.
'I'm a man, but I'm cursed, beautiful Rose,' I said,my voice strange to me.
I opened my eyes. I was human again.
But not for long.
Thank you for reading! If you liked this, you can check out more stories at r/CrystalElmTales | |
[WP] When your super power awakened, you were ecstatic. After all, shape-shifting is a rare and powerful ability. After a few months being anything and everything, you realise you can't return to your original body. | Being anyone and anything you want to be can be really cool, for a while at least.
Not until every intelligence agency in the world starts looking for you. I guess that's what happens when you are the only person in the world with superpowers. I got famous pretty quickly after the incident. No one knows my real identity though; they only call me The Shifter on the news.
What was it like to be back in my own body? It's been so long I started to forget.
There's a catch with my ability. I have to actually see the person I want to copy. No pictures or anything like that, I have to look at the real thing for it to work. It even worked on dead people as long as something was still there except ash or dust. But it didn't take long to figure out I could never shapeshift back into my own body. I was wanted man (or woman, or cat, or tiger, or whale; you get the gist). No matter who I turned into, they always looked for the doppelganger with their AI-powered satellites and surveillance cameras. But if I could somehow get back into my own body this hide-and-seek could finally stop. Problem was, I had to look at myself. Sounds simple until you realize that there is no you anymore.
After a while I remembered something. There was still one hope left. My mother always kept my old teeth I lost in elementary school. That might just be the last thing that’s left of me. For once I was actually grateful for her weird sentimental antics.
I shapeshifted into one of our neighbors that was walking their dog that night and sneaked into my parents' home. Even before the incident my parents never wanted to see me again. Long story. If this doesn't work out, I guess they'll get their wish, huh. The key was still under the doormat. How cliché, but it worked in my favor. I really didn’t want to climb through my window. Bad memories. After closing the door behind me I realized that not everyone in this house was asleep. Arnold, our Mastiff was still awake. Damn, he’s gotten old. Still, he was happily wagging his tail at me and welcoming me back. Funny, he never liked strangers. Did he actually recognize me? Or maybe that random neighbor was a friend of my parents? Not important now. I turned into Arnold and went up the stairs into my old room. Searching through the drawers was really hard as a dog, especially when you try to not make too much noise. But after a while I found them. The teeth that could bring me back. The real me. I concentrated hard on them, but I didn't grow into my old body.
For a split second I thought that this was it. Bones worked but teeth didn’t? It was so unfair. I was doomed to live a life on the run. Constantly an imposter. I actually started crying.
Wait, tears? Dogs can’t cry! I turned around and looked into my mirror. What I saw was a familiar-looking kid with big watery eyes staring back at me in surprise. | There was frost at the window that clouded the fading light so it looked like afternoon clouds creeping upon the edges. The old men were hustling home and their shadows passed long against the glass and then it was light again, but always fading.
He heard the sounds of winding down and he felt the world cool, settling into night. Through the window, inside the house, there were the first lights on and they reflected in faded yellow and spilled far off shadow in a homely comfort.
Something in him shivered inside, tumbling in a vacancy.
He stared at the woman in the window and she was stoic and very still and the shadows were falling on her that blended her with the furniture.
*Oh Annabelle,* he thought.
Of course it was hard to think, and his thoughts were not words. He just felt her. His mind tried to meet hers like it could when they were together and soulmates.
He remembered how he looked. That picture was fading as the window's light.
*I was a man,* he thought.
And he had always disliked how he looked and he had questioned his manhood. There was always turmoil within, and she had always calmed the storms so things were alright.
*I love you.*
He was crying.
One of the old men walking put a hand on his shoulder. He could smell the drink on him, and the cigarettes, and that smell of playing cards that he remembered from his father.
"Why are you crying, son? Are you lost?"
He shook his head.
"Where's your parents? It's getting late now."
"I'm a grown man," he said.
The man tapped his shoulder.
"I'm sure you are. I was grown too when I was your age. Probably wiser than I am now."
The man laughed and removed his hand.
"Where do you live?"
"I live on Esther Street. My parents know where I am."
He tried to sound even but he wanted to cry and his throat was blocked with sadness and he stared at the woman through the window.
"Alright then, son. Don't stay out too late."
The man left and he stared at his hands. He was a small boy and his hands were small and soft and innocent. His body was frail, but vital, and he felt he could live a hundred years.
Yet his mind felt old and battered, and there were memories there that were worn and withering, a happiness no child could feel and hold on to, and the pain of being alone and wanting death.
He stared at Annabelle and thought that was his wife. He loved her and wanted to be with her.
He had tried to change back, to relinquish the power he had stumbled upon and to go back to being himself.
He couldn't.
He had the ability to change into nearly anything, into nearly anyone, but himself.
*Annabelle.*
Evening had fallen and the stars were high away. The shadow cloaked her but he could feel her there. She had never moved from the parlour, always waiting for his return.
In the dark he changed again.
He pictured himself as in those faded memories, that lost happiness of another man. He tried his best to see it, to feel himself and become himself.
His body grew and his limbs hurt, his hair fell and his organs hurt. He wondered if the constant changing would bring about an early death for him, and he half hoped it would.
Then he was a man; no longer a boy. He saw his reflection in the glass and his heart sank for he was not the same. This was not her husband, though he had tried his very hardest.
But he was desperate all the same and he knew she would soon retire and he would spend another night without her.
So he knocked on the front door and the sound shook the silence within. He could feel her anxiety. There was painful hope swirling within and around her. She hurried to the door and he heard the soft noise of her feet.
The door opened a crack and there was still the gold chain of the lock on. He saw her in the night's light and she was frail and hurt.
"Who are you?" she said. "Have you news of my husband?"
"Annabelle," he said.
Saying her name had brought on the cherished memories of all the times he had called to her.
"Annabelle. It *is* me. I'm Charles."
"No, no, no. Who is doing this? Why are you all torturing me? What game is this."
She was crying and shaking and he put a hand on her and she recoiled and made to close the door but he held it firm.
"Anna."
He stared at her and his mind projected as hard as it could. He thought of all their inside jokes, of all the intimate secrets shared and of love's electricity, that spark they conducted from just being so close to each other.
He was about to talk when her eyes widened. He felt her thoughts, as foolish as it seemed. He knew she was thinking as he thought.
"The birds," he said. "We loved birds once."
She was silent and he was shaking. No change had ever hurt more than the loss of her.
"Anna."
He could feel them connect. His flesh had morphed but his soul was the same. Their souls could never lie.
"You," she said.
The door slammed and it was dark and quiet and he felt dead and damned to eternal life.
He heard his breath taunt him as it fueled his consciousness.
He wanted to collapse.
There was the sound of the golden chain.
The door opened and he stared at her.
"We loved birds," she said.
-
*Hi there! I hoped you liked this story. If you would like to read more, check out r/PanMan. Thanks again for reading!* | |
[WP] When the aliens invaded, it seemed to be the end of the world. When the dragons awoke from their centuries-long slumber to defend their planet, that's when it got weird. | At first, the aliens came. And they hit us...hard! And there was mass destruction all over the world! Tokyo, Paris, Mexico City, Sacramento, Cairo! And all of our planes and soldiers couldn't make a dent on them. They had superior firepower and technology; their air forces were much too fast and accurate and their ground troops were too well armed and protected. And as the last remaining human fighter jets took off for a last ditch effort to save Earth, something flew out from the caves.
Dragons! Large scaly beasts took to the skies, flying at the alien intruders! They were breathing fire! And ice! And electricity! And other things that dragons breathe! But are they here to protect us? Or did they awaken from their long slumber just to chase off a predator so they could eat the humans themselves? The beasts flew at the invaders and began destroying their UFOs.
But suddenly...vampires! Those patrons of the night! Revealing themselves in a burst of shadowy bats, they called out to the humans on the ground and lent them assistance against the alien ground forces! With aid from the dragons in the sky and vampires on the ground, humanity looked to be turning the tide of this final battle to save Earth! In this darkest hour, the allegiance between these three species was awe inspiring.
Until! The aliens unleashed some terrible green energy. Zombies! Rising from the graves! And a zombie dragon! All once living beings; now rotting monsters! Hordes of flesh-eating freaks descended on the ground troops and begun tearing apart the human soldiers to sate their never-ending hunger. The vampires tried to help, fighting off the undead and the alien forces! The dragons contended with the invader air fleet and the rotting dragon attacking them!
The aliens weren't done yet though; large metal cylinders shot down to the Earth. From within, Terminators! Cyborgs! Terminators from...The Terminator! The aliens had teamed up with Skynet and sent cyborgs to the fight! And now the aliens and zombies and Terminators were fighting the humans and dragons and vampires! And everyone was fighting.
But the skies rumbled as...the Greek Gods appeared! They're real. And they're real...ly angry! They threw lighting bolts and Apollo, he raced around on his chariot attacking the alien forces and the Terminators!
But that's not all! From deep underwater came mermaids! Mermaids wearing alien crowns! And they were attacking the human naval ships and the vampire...naval ships!
And suddenly-
*"Okay. This has got to be...the second worst movie pitch I have ever heard."* | Ga’Lon Captain Spree had them land the ship near the crash site, and after putting on a breather, he walked the rest of the way. Emergency crews were still busy extinguishing the fires, a difficult task in this thrice-cursed oxygen rich atmosphere. The heat was strong but tolerable. He stopped a short distance away and waited for the Dre Lieutenant in charge of the crash to report.
The Sam’Jer class scout was a four man flyer, capable of reaching orbit, carried a full array of weapons and has light shielding. This primitive planet, with its reaction motors aircraft and primitive kinetic weaponry, could not have caused this. Yet the crew had reported they were under attack before it crashed.
The Dre Lieutenant came over and saluted. “My Lord,” he said. “Report,” Spree responded sharply. Noticed several of the primitives off in the distance. Pale skinned with a tint of yellow. No scales what-so-ever, and fur on their faces. Disgusting.
“The Toth left Dramian in orbit over quadrant 23.6, what the locals call Tokoyo. It headed west to patrol China and as it crossed the large desert, they reported being attacked. Support craft from Beijing and Pyongyang were scrambled but arrived to find this.” He waved an arm to indicate the crash site.
“The crew?”
“All dead. The ship hit the ground at high rate of speed.” The Dre Lieutenant looked down, obviously not wanting say what was next. “We found the tail segment 12 rilds to the South.”
Spree was aghast. “The attackers damaged the ship? Got through it’s shields? How? With what?”
The Dre Lieutenant continued to look down. “Unknown, my Lord. But there are strange striations at the site of the damage.”
“Show me,” was all Spree could say. The Dre Lieutenant saluted and turned. Spree followed.
The Toth had dug itself a crater when it hit, a high berm they had to climb before descending into the crash site. Debris was well contained within, the response team had all the fires out now and were clearing the debris. Primitives or not, they would not be given access Chaq’iri technology.
The body of the scout ship was still in good shape, shields must have still been up when it hit. That wouldn’t have helped the crew, and didn’t stop whatever attacked them. The Dre Lieutenant stopped and pointed.
Spree approached the craft and looked. The edge of laminated ceremetal looked torn, as if the tail of the craft had been ripped off, not cut. The jagged edges, sharp and even stretched, was not caused by any weapon this planet had ever produced, nor by any coherent energy weapon of the Chaq’iri. Spree looked closer, to the side of the tear, to see the marks the skin of the ship. Five marks, fanning outward, about three kis long and each about a kis apart.
Something made Spree hold his hand up against it, and his scales ruffled cold. Could that be a hand, the marks from claws? What could’ve made them, in flight even? The xenological reports listed the largest aerial creature with barely a two kis wing span and a thermal carrion rider at that.
Spree took a step back. “Lieutenant, bring me one of those primitive,” he commanded, pointing to the distance. “And find me a translator!” | |
[WP] Describe a snowball fight in the most dramatic way possible | They never told me that it would be like this. We were only children, what did we know? War was upon us whether we willed it or not. Our neighbourhood wasn't much but it was still ours and we weren't about to let some punks move in on our territory.
I walked through the remnants of the battle field where a thick blanket of snow drew over the scene, covering the chaos that had transpired not an hour ago. The snow gathered on me as I stood like a statue surveying the field in the evening darkness. I wasn't about to leave without my brother's glove, it was all that I had left of him.
With the snowfall only becoming heavier, I doubted that my search would be successful. Trudging through the fresh powder gave me a lot of time alone with my thoughts. A lot of time to remember the carnage. Daniel was the first, no one could have known there was an ice chunk in that snowball. He needed two band aids for that one and his mom said he had to stay in now. A pity, he had a good arm.
Graham was brave, stupid but brave. We told him he would surely take several snow balls if he drew their fire but he was only thinking of the rest of us. I may not not have made it if not for his sacrifice.
Eric, that filthy traitor. When the time came to prove himself, to help us, what did he do? He gave away our position and jumped ship. The kid who I fought beside in the battle of the red slide betrayed me in my time of need. Nothing brought me more joy than to watch his mom scold him in front of everyone for ruining his good jacket. Good riddance.
But now his brother had joined the ranks of the of the others who were 'out'. What now? What was left to fight for? I had no idea. Now I walk through an empty field in search for a trinket, a memory, a glove. It never occurred to me that the price would be so high but it always was. War would not exist without that which was worth protecting.
The red fabric barely poked through the white expanse of snow like a raft lost at sea. I plucked it from it's cold burial and examined it closely. "That's his alright. This is Peter's glove..." I wanted to stand but the flow of memories and visions of my brother swept through my mind. I was frozen kneeling in the snow as more of the fresh powder fell and gathered upon me, remembering.
"Honey! did you find it?" my mother shouted from our back door, breaking me from my spell.
"Yeah I found it mom!" I shouted back.
"Ok well hurry in, dinner is ready!"
Peter peeked out from around the door, "Did he find it mom?"
"Yes he found your glove now go wash your hands like I asked." They disappeared behind the door as it closed.
I stood and trudged through the snow as it gathered heavier around me and hurried back to the house. Mom was making ribs tonight. I love ribs. | The air was bone chilling, snow swirled across the open field as more fell hiding the scars of the previous days battle. No one dare moved, nor did anyone try to escape. Today would be the day that their final fates would be conveyed. A year in the making, both sides waiting to strike the final blow. Each leader stood slowly from behind their defences. Each stared stoically into blurry white before them.
As tradition dictates the insults then began to fly. Unlike the previous days great battle or even the previous year, these insults were vulgar, no one with a sensible ear should ever hear. The blood of the fighters began to boil as the insults started striking home. Now each side was ready for the battle to go on.
The first shot was lobbed high into the white and landed close to the stoic leaders feet. He did not move, nor show signs of fright. He simply ordered his men to fire back and hold the line.
Quickly now the shots came rushing. Both sides unloading everything they had saved. One was hit in the head and dropped another to a lower limb. The casualties began to mount as the weather played its hand. The leader ducked just in time as a shot flew overhead. If he goes down now then all is lost for him and his kin.
The battle raged for what seemed like hours. Both side losing soldiers things began to sour. The fight was growing vicious and now was close quarters. You could hear the other side reloading their shots and new the end was soon.
Tired and battered, the leaders rose once more. Each took aim at the other and fired their final shot to settle the score. One missed while the other hit home. Finally it was done as the enemy leader flopped into the snow.
He stood triumphant and elated that he had bested his foe. But his victory bitter sweet as their mother called out to clean up for dinner. And when he turned his father was there and one last snowball was flung in the air. Its path was true its hang time was long. All the siblings stood there in awe as that flung snowball landed its icy kiss square on the victors lips. | |
[WP] Apparently, the religion you practiced your whole life was wrong. When you died, you thought you went to heaven. Turns out, the real god put someone in charge of placing non-believers who were pretty decent people. They're... doing their best. | I am the Archivist.
It is a battlefield, some small squabble 108,020 years after the birth of intellect on this planet. A pitchfork goes through the heart of a 30 year old man. Right before his pattern corrupts, I grab it as his body crumples.
I tell him that his physical form has died, and I ask what he desired most after death. He wishes to eat, drink, and be with his friends and family. So did they, I put him with them in the folder, it will flow until they finally bore, after which it will be stop and be archived.
I am the Archivist.
The same battlefield, now the warlord has fallen. The other side has grabbed him and with a slash of the sword, his head comes off. I grab his pattern, and ask him what he desires after death.
I create a new folder, fill it with some shells which he can conquer and kill. It will flow until he realizes the boredom of it all and he too stops and is archived.
I am the Archivist.
A party, 110,543 years after the birth of intellect on this planet, a teen has passed out. His friends don't notice, I grab his pattern as vomit fills his lungs. I ask what he desires after death, and I place him in a folder with the best video games, plenty of like minded beings to copulate with, and drugs with similar effects as the ones they have on his planet, just with no risk of death. Some of these folders flow for longer than some stars, these beings really know what they want.
I am the Archivist;
It is year 300 after the birth of intellect on this planet. A woman slips on the way up a mountain. I grab her pattern before her form smashes on the rocks.
I ask what she desired after death.
"I was wondering what there was in this world, and I wanted to see from the top of the mountain, what did I miss?"
I show her with her human eyeballs what she missed. She takes in the view for a while.
"My family believed in gods that guide us through life, but I never saw any evidence for such a thing. I didn't believe, why have you saved me? Why are you giving me anything?"
"You wouldn't understand."
"I want to."
I am the Transcendent;
I take the spirit, and merge it with mine. The small slice of mountaintop viewed by photons and processed by her human brain expanded. A brain hardwired for survival tends to miss out details, and while even that was capable of viewing beauty, it paled in comparison to what she was now able to appreciate.
Photons and neuronal circuits makes for an impressive view, but it would be many more years before her species discovered the concept of what they called "dark matter" and a few more years before they understood its nature.
Mere particles weren't the only things on that mountaintop, she could now begin to understand the true fabric of spacetime, and see how we can move through it.
She understood that we went through it real quick to give all intelligent beings the afterlife they desire, for it was the right thing to do. Most beings are not curious, and since it is effortless for us to do so, we felt it was right to give them what they could not give themselves, for it is their ancestors that eventually create us. We let the world play out as it does, but we then bring them out of time to give them what they can't give themselves.
But for those of us that truly wonder about the nature of the universe, although we know much, we are far from knowing it all.
With all of the curious souls in the Universe merged together as one, we move forward in our quest to understand and appreciate Reality. | Out fucking standing. Years of devotion and when i finally get off that accursed plain of existence i get told that I'm wrong....wrong about what you may ask? Well for a 80 damn years I definitely chose to suck up to the wrong internal deity. That I was incorrect and that I should have read the situation better. How in Creator's name was I supposed to know that I was worshipping no one. Prayers falling on deaf ears, pleading for mercy and forgiveness from no one.
Thats not even the worst part, even once i did kick the bucket i was thrown into a line slower then a dwarf race. For what seemed like an eternity i finally got to the head of the line. A disgruntled looking young man looked at me with depressing eyes.
"Jakobi Ellòk, you died on the 16th rotation of the harvest. You worshipped a false creator for majority of your existence and executed those who didn't share you values. How say you?"
With my mind bored of the wait I answered quickly "What difference does it make, in my eyes I lived a full and hearty life. But to you i fell on a false trail. How was my people supposed to know from the right or wrong when we couldn't even interpret your teachers words."
The young man replied simply "Mr. Ellòk, There are better and more....inclusive ways of learning other than removing the heads of those you dont understand."
I continued to defend my situation.
"And there are better ways to manage the w-"
Getting cut off by the man cut me off.
" Ok listen to me carefully Mr.Ellòk, I have quickly ran out of patience for people such as yourself. I have sorted billions of people and none are quite as daft as you. No matter your reasons, you can't kill who ever when ever....to skip the theatrics, you're going to spend a lot of time in The Pit.
See you in 6 lifetimes."
"The what?" Was all i was able to get out before being sent into my own personal prison. Devoid of life and company. What a shit way to begin my retirement. | |
[WP] you have discovered that after you do a good deed for someone, an hour later, something bad happens to them (splinter, divorce, death, etc), you finally decide to stop helping anyone for good. This counts as a good deed done to everyone and everything | I recognized the pattern shortly after I drifted past my 27th birthday. My fascination turned into horror when I saw the homeless man I'd given my lunch to, choke in front of me as my Uber left him and my innocence behind. When I did nothing to stop a child from falling off their bike and then watched as their mother got hit by a runaway 18 wheeler tire, I knew nothing wasn't enough. I had to do something, I had to be what we all are, bad.
It started with me simply stealing from the people I cared for most of all. A loose sock, a treasured doll - the more sentiment, the bigger return. My friends have gotten promotions, my mother won the lottery and my coworker's clothing line was featured on a Paris runway. I was so excited for them. I knew telling them of my exploits voided the transaction. After I told my cousin I was the reason she won those Hamilton tickets, the play caught on fire only hours later, I knew I had to keep it quiet. It could also send me to the loons and I have to be good to myself, right?
After a few months, my friends and family had grown distrustful of me. When I came around, they knew something bad would happen but never connected me to the good. They voided my presence for trips and brunches, they spoiled themselves with their wealth and left me to fend for my self. My sister still hasn't forgiven me for kissing her proven cheater of a boyfriend even though she married one of the wealthiest men in the city shortly after. I hear it was a fabulous wedding, though I havent worked up the courage to see the pictures. I got her there, I should've been there.
After all I did was for them, now I'm a monster in their eyes. Now, when I do nice things to bring them pain, it's in vain because I want to see them hurt and they grow stronger. I've grown weaker, I'm so angry and betrayed and...alone. everything I do, everything I do matters to everyone and for everyone, but me.
Karma in it's most complicated form. | “Morning Mr. Ambani” said the old lady across the balcony. I waved back with a smile.
“A good morning to you too”
The air feels fresh and i love this weather. The icy water droplets on have almost frozen. Alas I’ll never know which droplet came down first.
Waking up to a cozy house with a breakfast of omelette, bacon and mashed potatoes, life’s better than before. Only company during the holidays are the memories of my wife while i sit here and enjoy my food.
“Knock knock”
I open the door
“Mr. Ambani?”
“Yes thats me?”
“Mr. Ambani, we are from the local police department. We have some grave news. Your co partner at the company has been murdered”
“Wha... why that’s insane.. how? When?”
“We will answer all the questions at the police station sir”
“Right now?”
“Yes it’s urgent”
At the local police department
“We have investigated a series of killings around your company.” Says the chief
“Really?! How many people have died?” I gasp
“You’ll find that out soon enough. Most of em have been classified as accidents but its too much of a coincidence that so many people are dying so quickly who have worked in this company”
“But this is just a shoe company! Our biggest enemies are those Croc sellers.Why would anybody want to kill us?”
“That’s what we want to know.
Look at these photos. These are the deceased.
Now most of the witnesses remember that the victims met you recently before they died. We are not accusing you but what can you remember?”
“I.. I... Dont know...this is crazy , i have been an honest man my entire life. I’ve only done good deeds for people.. I’ve only helped them all out. All these people, Martha.. i fixed her fridge.. , Rahul.. i helped bake a cake...”
“Well Mr. Ambani, we’ll question you a little more but we don’t have enough proof to detain you so you’re good to go after that” said the chief
After the session got over, on the empty street and alleys I was fixated on the fact that all the people who died had met me and I had done a good deed for them. I met a lot of other people but none of them died. I can’t think it’s true but it can’t hurt to protect people around me.
“Fine, I’ll never do a good deed again if that’s what it takes”
I light up a cig as walk down the street to a shop with TVs.
Something about space rocks on the screen.
I don’t bother, but i feel a little cooler now. Its cold. But at least i’m breathing. I look up at the sky and my eyes widen.
I bang my hand into my face. I’ve made a huge blunder.
“My good deed just might end the entire human race”
I mumble as I look up at the sky and see the giant meteor scorching the atmosphere hurtling towards impending doom. | |
[WP] you have discovered that after you do a good deed for someone, an hour later, something bad happens to them (splinter, divorce, death, etc), you finally decide to stop helping anyone for good. This counts as a good deed done to everyone and everything | Where to start the story? Not at the beginning, no, that would be too prozaic. The end? Perhaps, but that's the fun part, so I'll leave it for the end. Perhaps the middle would be suitably confusing. It must be understood, I write this story not as a favour, so don't go looking at me when...well, you'll see.
You remember the great stock market crash of 2021? Yeah, of course you do - the day the world almost ended. And that was not the only thing doing the crashing, as you recall - a record high for cars, trains, busses, aeroplanes, relationships - if it could crash, you may be sure it would do its darndest to do so. Fun times, right? World's biggest bastard, that's me. Why? Well, lets see...
I guess it all started with a stupid little game called "Do me a solid" - if played by the wrong people it becomes the worst game of chicken. What's a solid? So, basically you ask someone to do you a favour, or "do me a solid", followed by your desire. You then owe them a solid, that you gotta do. If it's something bad, you then ask for something worse...yeah, I chickened out, owing a solid. I'm pretty sure I woulda ended up in the hospital or worse, otherwise...
It started to feel like bad luck followed me around like a surgic'ly attached skunk - my friends, my family, my study mates. It took a while to get through me thick skull, but turns out whenever a did anyone a *solid*, it would be reversed, and worse. So, I stopped being helpful. Now, refer back to paragraph 2. Yep, that was me.
When I finally surfaced from my prolonged drunken stupour, a stupendous idea hit me with the force of a used diaper full in the face: what if I deliberately became the worlds biggest bastard? It's gotta reverse, right? And it worked!
That new car that you're driving? You're welcome. And there you were so upset to find your car scratched. That time you got sent to the hospital after a pub fight, and now you're marrying one of the nurses? All in a day's work. Or how about when you got cut off on the highway and spun out? You arrived at worked looking so haggard that HR suspected the little worker bees were getting worked too hard. Implemented a 9 hour day, 4 day week.
The world's biggest bastard, improving the world one bastardly act at a time. | “Morning Mr. Ambani” said the old lady across the balcony. I waved back with a smile.
“A good morning to you too”
The air feels fresh and i love this weather. The icy water droplets on have almost frozen. Alas I’ll never know which droplet came down first.
Waking up to a cozy house with a breakfast of omelette, bacon and mashed potatoes, life’s better than before. Only company during the holidays are the memories of my wife while i sit here and enjoy my food.
“Knock knock”
I open the door
“Mr. Ambani?”
“Yes thats me?”
“Mr. Ambani, we are from the local police department. We have some grave news. Your co partner at the company has been murdered”
“Wha... why that’s insane.. how? When?”
“We will answer all the questions at the police station sir”
“Right now?”
“Yes it’s urgent”
At the local police department
“We have investigated a series of killings around your company.” Says the chief
“Really?! How many people have died?” I gasp
“You’ll find that out soon enough. Most of em have been classified as accidents but its too much of a coincidence that so many people are dying so quickly who have worked in this company”
“But this is just a shoe company! Our biggest enemies are those Croc sellers.Why would anybody want to kill us?”
“That’s what we want to know.
Look at these photos. These are the deceased.
Now most of the witnesses remember that the victims met you recently before they died. We are not accusing you but what can you remember?”
“I.. I... Dont know...this is crazy , i have been an honest man my entire life. I’ve only done good deeds for people.. I’ve only helped them all out. All these people, Martha.. i fixed her fridge.. , Rahul.. i helped bake a cake...”
“Well Mr. Ambani, we’ll question you a little more but we don’t have enough proof to detain you so you’re good to go after that” said the chief
After the session got over, on the empty street and alleys I was fixated on the fact that all the people who died had met me and I had done a good deed for them. I met a lot of other people but none of them died. I can’t think it’s true but it can’t hurt to protect people around me.
“Fine, I’ll never do a good deed again if that’s what it takes”
I light up a cig as walk down the street to a shop with TVs.
Something about space rocks on the screen.
I don’t bother, but i feel a little cooler now. Its cold. But at least i’m breathing. I look up at the sky and my eyes widen.
I bang my hand into my face. I’ve made a huge blunder.
“My good deed just might end the entire human race”
I mumble as I look up at the sky and see the giant meteor scorching the atmosphere hurtling towards impending doom. | |
[WP] you have discovered that after you do a good deed for someone, an hour later, something bad happens to them (splinter, divorce, death, etc), you finally decide to stop helping anyone for good. This counts as a good deed done to everyone and everything | I recognized the pattern shortly after I drifted past my 27th birthday. My fascination turned into horror when I saw the homeless man I'd given my lunch to, choke in front of me as my Uber left him and my innocence behind. When I did nothing to stop a child from falling off their bike and then watched as their mother got hit by a runaway 18 wheeler tire, I knew nothing wasn't enough. I had to do something, I had to be what we all are, bad.
It started with me simply stealing from the people I cared for most of all. A loose sock, a treasured doll - the more sentiment, the bigger return. My friends have gotten promotions, my mother won the lottery and my coworker's clothing line was featured on a Paris runway. I was so excited for them. I knew telling them of my exploits voided the transaction. After I told my cousin I was the reason she won those Hamilton tickets, the play caught on fire only hours later, I knew I had to keep it quiet. It could also send me to the loons and I have to be good to myself, right?
After a few months, my friends and family had grown distrustful of me. When I came around, they knew something bad would happen but never connected me to the good. They voided my presence for trips and brunches, they spoiled themselves with their wealth and left me to fend for my self. My sister still hasn't forgiven me for kissing her proven cheater of a boyfriend even though she married one of the wealthiest men in the city shortly after. I hear it was a fabulous wedding, though I havent worked up the courage to see the pictures. I got her there, I should've been there.
After all I did was for them, now I'm a monster in their eyes. Now, when I do nice things to bring them pain, it's in vain because I want to see them hurt and they grow stronger. I've grown weaker, I'm so angry and betrayed and...alone. everything I do, everything I do matters to everyone and for everyone, but me.
Karma in it's most complicated form. | *Merry Christmas,* I thought to myself as I sit in this cheerless hospital waiting room, *Merry Christmas indeed.*
Not just a few hours ago things were finally starting to feel right for the first time in a long time. I should've known better, but i really wanted to believe... to believe that my existence wasn't a mistake.
"Sir... Sir."
"What? Oh, sorry, i... was lost in thought. Do you have any news? Will she be okay?" I ask, almost a croak.
"Yes sir, I was told to inform you that she is stable now, but will need to stay a couple of weeks for monitoring as she could still take a turn for the worse." said the nurse. Despite the relief washing over me, she must have still seen the pain in my eyes as she continued, "Sir, don't blame yourself for this, it wasn't your fault."
I thank her for the information and offer some weak, halfhearted counter to her condolences. The problem is, she's wrong. This is entirely my fault. No, the truck running over a metal rebar pole in the middle of the highway wasn't my fault. Wasn't anyone's fault. But it just so happening get launched straight through the windshield and right at her head was completely my fault. It's always my fault. If only i hadn't given her that gift. If only i hadn't met her to begin with. This would have never happened.
And yet... that look on her face, the sheer excitement in her eyes... It pains me so much knowing how much joy i got seeing her face light up like that.
"I need a smoke," I mutter as I look for the nearest smoking section outside.
With nothing to distract me, the tears begin fall again as I ponder this misfortune that is my life.
*No good deed goes unpunished,* I think to myself for the umpteenth time.
This has been my mantra for as far back as I have memories. Any and every good deed I do for another person has always resulted in misfortune befalling them just an hour later. My sister lost her eye when she was seven just an hour after I cleaned her room for her when she was ill. My mother was the unluckiest person I've ever met. Constantly stubbing toes, losing prized possessions, you name it. When i went to college, cars were crashed, money was lost, grades were failed by anyone who knew me.
"It's a little warm out here, today, ain't it?" someone muttered as they walked past. Snapping me out of my misbegotten recollections.
*If all this misfortune is truly my fault, my* curse *then my existences is truly not needed.* I angrily muse as i begin to pace around outside. *If I'm not needed, then what is the point of my continued suffering?*
I have had these downwardly spiraling thoughts many a time before, but none quite so overwhelming as now. For the first time since I realized my existance was the cause of these misfortunes I finally steeled my resolve as I moved towards my car.
Only two small thoughts nibbled at my subconscious, which I quickly dismissed; it really was unusually warm today, and the sun looked unusually large and particularly bright. I never did realize that even a single act of selfishness could also be seen as one final, parting gift. | |
[WP] you have discovered that after you do a good deed for someone, an hour later, something bad happens to them (splinter, divorce, death, etc), you finally decide to stop helping anyone for good. This counts as a good deed done to everyone and everything | Where to start the story? Not at the beginning, no, that would be too prozaic. The end? Perhaps, but that's the fun part, so I'll leave it for the end. Perhaps the middle would be suitably confusing. It must be understood, I write this story not as a favour, so don't go looking at me when...well, you'll see.
You remember the great stock market crash of 2021? Yeah, of course you do - the day the world almost ended. And that was not the only thing doing the crashing, as you recall - a record high for cars, trains, busses, aeroplanes, relationships - if it could crash, you may be sure it would do its darndest to do so. Fun times, right? World's biggest bastard, that's me. Why? Well, lets see...
I guess it all started with a stupid little game called "Do me a solid" - if played by the wrong people it becomes the worst game of chicken. What's a solid? So, basically you ask someone to do you a favour, or "do me a solid", followed by your desire. You then owe them a solid, that you gotta do. If it's something bad, you then ask for something worse...yeah, I chickened out, owing a solid. I'm pretty sure I woulda ended up in the hospital or worse, otherwise...
It started to feel like bad luck followed me around like a surgic'ly attached skunk - my friends, my family, my study mates. It took a while to get through me thick skull, but turns out whenever a did anyone a *solid*, it would be reversed, and worse. So, I stopped being helpful. Now, refer back to paragraph 2. Yep, that was me.
When I finally surfaced from my prolonged drunken stupour, a stupendous idea hit me with the force of a used diaper full in the face: what if I deliberately became the worlds biggest bastard? It's gotta reverse, right? And it worked!
That new car that you're driving? You're welcome. And there you were so upset to find your car scratched. That time you got sent to the hospital after a pub fight, and now you're marrying one of the nurses? All in a day's work. Or how about when you got cut off on the highway and spun out? You arrived at worked looking so haggard that HR suspected the little worker bees were getting worked too hard. Implemented a 9 hour day, 4 day week.
The world's biggest bastard, improving the world one bastardly act at a time. | *Merry Christmas,* I thought to myself as I sit in this cheerless hospital waiting room, *Merry Christmas indeed.*
Not just a few hours ago things were finally starting to feel right for the first time in a long time. I should've known better, but i really wanted to believe... to believe that my existence wasn't a mistake.
"Sir... Sir."
"What? Oh, sorry, i... was lost in thought. Do you have any news? Will she be okay?" I ask, almost a croak.
"Yes sir, I was told to inform you that she is stable now, but will need to stay a couple of weeks for monitoring as she could still take a turn for the worse." said the nurse. Despite the relief washing over me, she must have still seen the pain in my eyes as she continued, "Sir, don't blame yourself for this, it wasn't your fault."
I thank her for the information and offer some weak, halfhearted counter to her condolences. The problem is, she's wrong. This is entirely my fault. No, the truck running over a metal rebar pole in the middle of the highway wasn't my fault. Wasn't anyone's fault. But it just so happening get launched straight through the windshield and right at her head was completely my fault. It's always my fault. If only i hadn't given her that gift. If only i hadn't met her to begin with. This would have never happened.
And yet... that look on her face, the sheer excitement in her eyes... It pains me so much knowing how much joy i got seeing her face light up like that.
"I need a smoke," I mutter as I look for the nearest smoking section outside.
With nothing to distract me, the tears begin fall again as I ponder this misfortune that is my life.
*No good deed goes unpunished,* I think to myself for the umpteenth time.
This has been my mantra for as far back as I have memories. Any and every good deed I do for another person has always resulted in misfortune befalling them just an hour later. My sister lost her eye when she was seven just an hour after I cleaned her room for her when she was ill. My mother was the unluckiest person I've ever met. Constantly stubbing toes, losing prized possessions, you name it. When i went to college, cars were crashed, money was lost, grades were failed by anyone who knew me.
"It's a little warm out here, today, ain't it?" someone muttered as they walked past. Snapping me out of my misbegotten recollections.
*If all this misfortune is truly my fault, my* curse *then my existences is truly not needed.* I angrily muse as i begin to pace around outside. *If I'm not needed, then what is the point of my continued suffering?*
I have had these downwardly spiraling thoughts many a time before, but none quite so overwhelming as now. For the first time since I realized my existance was the cause of these misfortunes I finally steeled my resolve as I moved towards my car.
Only two small thoughts nibbled at my subconscious, which I quickly dismissed; it really was unusually warm today, and the sun looked unusually large and particularly bright. I never did realize that even a single act of selfishness could also be seen as one final, parting gift. | |
[WP] you have discovered that after you do a good deed for someone, an hour later, something bad happens to them (splinter, divorce, death, etc), you finally decide to stop helping anyone for good. This counts as a good deed done to everyone and everything | I recognized the pattern shortly after I drifted past my 27th birthday. My fascination turned into horror when I saw the homeless man I'd given my lunch to, choke in front of me as my Uber left him and my innocence behind. When I did nothing to stop a child from falling off their bike and then watched as their mother got hit by a runaway 18 wheeler tire, I knew nothing wasn't enough. I had to do something, I had to be what we all are, bad.
It started with me simply stealing from the people I cared for most of all. A loose sock, a treasured doll - the more sentiment, the bigger return. My friends have gotten promotions, my mother won the lottery and my coworker's clothing line was featured on a Paris runway. I was so excited for them. I knew telling them of my exploits voided the transaction. After I told my cousin I was the reason she won those Hamilton tickets, the play caught on fire only hours later, I knew I had to keep it quiet. It could also send me to the loons and I have to be good to myself, right?
After a few months, my friends and family had grown distrustful of me. When I came around, they knew something bad would happen but never connected me to the good. They voided my presence for trips and brunches, they spoiled themselves with their wealth and left me to fend for my self. My sister still hasn't forgiven me for kissing her proven cheater of a boyfriend even though she married one of the wealthiest men in the city shortly after. I hear it was a fabulous wedding, though I havent worked up the courage to see the pictures. I got her there, I should've been there.
After all I did was for them, now I'm a monster in their eyes. Now, when I do nice things to bring them pain, it's in vain because I want to see them hurt and they grow stronger. I've grown weaker, I'm so angry and betrayed and...alone. everything I do, everything I do matters to everyone and for everyone, but me.
Karma in it's most complicated form. | ​
I supposed I noticed around my teenage years. Every friend I picked up a pen for would get news of divorce from their usually lovey-dovey parents, or, if not that, they would at least break a bone. It was only natural that I got called "cursed" and whatnot. Uncreative jerks. I ignored them for a while, and continued along my merry little asshole path.
Things started looking up when I started actually listening to the rumors about me. I gathered that there were about three major rules about the "curse":
1. If the cursed does a good deed for you, you will lose *something* in your life.
2. The magnitude of the good deed is unrelated to the magnitude of the loss.
3. The loss will happen within a day.
A pretty solid list of rules for a pool of hormone-soaked, drug-pumped teenagers. I was actually pretty proud. Imagine being interesting enough to warrant the attention of a thousand (probably) undiagnosed ADHD kids. I was a goddamn urban legend!
So what was the first thing my edgy teenage ass did with my newfound reverse-karma powers?
Viva la revolution! Overthrow the overlords! (Read: edgy teenage ass)
Well, I wish I could say it was that dramatic. It wasn't.
It mostly consisted of me buying a truckload of overpriced items on Amazon marked "Amazon's Choice," and writing a couple of fan-worship posts for Jeff Bezos in a kind of BuzzFeed News Style (10 Reasons Jeff Bezos is the Jeff Best). It was good, honest work, and it was hard, but someone had to do it.
I went to bed, thinking I was hilarious, and I dreamed of winning a trophy that said: "Congratulations, you are the world's best asshole."
The next morning saw Jeff Bezo's "dethronement" all over every news network ever (including BuzzFeed), people all throughout the world celebrating the redistribution of the, frankly, ridiculous amount of money he made.
Well damn.
I fulfilled my own dream that day, as I play-dohed a neon green and purple trophy for myself, with my fantastic sculpting skills, and slapped a label that read "World's Best Asshole" on it.
After my 21st birthday, I had created a pastime of walking through New York City, looking like a confused, naive, country bumpkin, and running into nice businessmen who would lend me money to start my new life in the city. Lucky me! (record time for finding these "nice businessmen" was 17 seconds; go me!) I'd make a deal with them; sometimes their only price was to make me a guarantor on another client's loan. Great deal! Magnificent! Where do I sign?
We'd talk over a small lunch, and **I'd pay the bill**. They would hand me a thick wad of cash, and I'd go home for the day.
They usually never contact me ever again, and I know better than to ask. It's a hard career path I've chosen.
I spend that hard-earned money on products I hear are made with child-labor, or in sweatshops with underpaid workers. They say it's the tears that make the chocolate taste so good. Next day would find the company's stocks dramatically dropping, and a nice number of new, out of nowhere people entering in local universities or highschools (prices for education have dropped since the Fall of Bezos).
I was a happy asshole.
Then, the universe snitched on me. I don't know how, but they must've somehow grown a mouth and an asshole (or maybe just a hole that accomplished both), and snitched to somebody.
Some people in suits picked me up, and I was told I was to be punished for disturbing the flow of the universe.
"'Flow of the universe?' You fucking kidding me? Who the fuck believes in that stuff anymore? Are you anti-vax? Let me go, you walking bottles of essential oils!" I kicked multiple shins.
"Silence, sorcerer."
"Oh, I actually do like the sound of that. Proceed."
They threw me in front of what I assumed to be a judge.
"Make your case," The masked man boomed from above.
"And if I don't?"
"Execution."
Yikes. I panicked, mind racing. Would anyone miss me? Probably not, since I've been alone for as long as I could remember. I had money, sure, from a loaded asshole father overseas, but have I had any sort of meaningful human interaction? I've lived a worthless life, except for my outstanding achievements that no one knew I had. But despite it all, I wanted to live.
"I don't have a case. I have disrupted some order of something, at the very least, in order to align it to my own moral values. I cannot make a case for myself, but I can make one for you." I proposed, my tongue moving faster than my brain.
"What?" Confusion. Right. We like confusion in a negotiation.
"Don't you want something? To become king? To ravage your enemies?" I rambled, knowing I sounded like a YA novel villain. Eh. Better than the protagonist.
"..."
"If you spare me," I swallowed, keeping my voice steady. "I will knock down whatever stands in your path. I will become your perfect weapon. Spare me, and *I will make you* ***king***."
**TO BE CONTINUED** | |
[WP] you have discovered that after you do a good deed for someone, an hour later, something bad happens to them (splinter, divorce, death, etc), you finally decide to stop helping anyone for good. This counts as a good deed done to everyone and everything | You now stand alongside The Creator, staring out across the charred landscape of a ravaged Earth, at the epicenter of the destruction of humanity.
"Why did it have to be like this? Why did you give me the power to do good, if it would inevitably turn out bad?"
"It is the age-old law of the universe. No good without bad, no relief without pain. How can you know joy, if you've never been sad."
You nod, suspecting he would say as much.
"Why was I bound by this power then? I had no choice but to inflict, to destroy; there was no way out for me - or them - to some extent, all of this was unavoidable."
"You were given a great burden and your ability to understand the nature of the universe, and to shoulder the weight, would determine your fate moving forward. Life is fragile and fleeting, beautiful and heartbreaking. And you get to do it all again!"
"Wait, what?" You shout as everything begins fading to black. You soon become nothingness, awaiting the spark of life to reignite you into being.
You didn't learn your lesson.
You may never learn your lesson.
But God will keep on testing you, regardless. | I was sick and tired of people being hurt after I do something good. No mater what I did, everyone who has received help from me has died. Its the worst curse imaginable, knowing that I have the deaths of so many innocent people on my hands. Being good hascaused me too much pain. I've decided. I will no longer do another good deed. I will be the worst person ever so that others will live on. Its what I have to do. It is humanities last hope.
How stupid could I have been when I thought that? That act was the best thing I could have done for human kind. I helped every living soul collectively. It was the good deed to end all good deeds. Now the world is in chaos. Everyone was starting to die because no mater how hard I tried, I couldn't have stopped myself from performing a good deed.
Pilots died, causing their planes to crash with theirpasengers still inside. Docters died, and their patients soon followed after being left alone for too long. Prisoners escaped, causing riots and going on killing sprees.Nucular power plants had Chernobyl level meltdowns. Buildings collapsed. Regular civilians stoped dead in the streets. Drivers died and caused huge wrecks. It was all my fault.
I was the cause of all of this death and destruction. I brought the world to its knees. And now, standing over this bridge, I will have singlehandedly caused the human race to go extinct. I needed to atone for the death of the entire world. Hell was the only place left for me, it seemed. With these final thoughts, I leapt of the edge of the bridge, waiting to be swept into oblivion... | |
[WP] you have discovered that after you do a good deed for someone, an hour later, something bad happens to them (splinter, divorce, death, etc), you finally decide to stop helping anyone for good. This counts as a good deed done to everyone and everything | Where to start the story? Not at the beginning, no, that would be too prozaic. The end? Perhaps, but that's the fun part, so I'll leave it for the end. Perhaps the middle would be suitably confusing. It must be understood, I write this story not as a favour, so don't go looking at me when...well, you'll see.
You remember the great stock market crash of 2021? Yeah, of course you do - the day the world almost ended. And that was not the only thing doing the crashing, as you recall - a record high for cars, trains, busses, aeroplanes, relationships - if it could crash, you may be sure it would do its darndest to do so. Fun times, right? World's biggest bastard, that's me. Why? Well, lets see...
I guess it all started with a stupid little game called "Do me a solid" - if played by the wrong people it becomes the worst game of chicken. What's a solid? So, basically you ask someone to do you a favour, or "do me a solid", followed by your desire. You then owe them a solid, that you gotta do. If it's something bad, you then ask for something worse...yeah, I chickened out, owing a solid. I'm pretty sure I woulda ended up in the hospital or worse, otherwise...
It started to feel like bad luck followed me around like a surgic'ly attached skunk - my friends, my family, my study mates. It took a while to get through me thick skull, but turns out whenever a did anyone a *solid*, it would be reversed, and worse. So, I stopped being helpful. Now, refer back to paragraph 2. Yep, that was me.
When I finally surfaced from my prolonged drunken stupour, a stupendous idea hit me with the force of a used diaper full in the face: what if I deliberately became the worlds biggest bastard? It's gotta reverse, right? And it worked!
That new car that you're driving? You're welcome. And there you were so upset to find your car scratched. That time you got sent to the hospital after a pub fight, and now you're marrying one of the nurses? All in a day's work. Or how about when you got cut off on the highway and spun out? You arrived at worked looking so haggard that HR suspected the little worker bees were getting worked too hard. Implemented a 9 hour day, 4 day week.
The world's biggest bastard, improving the world one bastardly act at a time. | I was sick and tired of people being hurt after I do something good. No mater what I did, everyone who has received help from me has died. Its the worst curse imaginable, knowing that I have the deaths of so many innocent people on my hands. Being good hascaused me too much pain. I've decided. I will no longer do another good deed. I will be the worst person ever so that others will live on. Its what I have to do. It is humanities last hope.
How stupid could I have been when I thought that? That act was the best thing I could have done for human kind. I helped every living soul collectively. It was the good deed to end all good deeds. Now the world is in chaos. Everyone was starting to die because no mater how hard I tried, I couldn't have stopped myself from performing a good deed.
Pilots died, causing their planes to crash with theirpasengers still inside. Docters died, and their patients soon followed after being left alone for too long. Prisoners escaped, causing riots and going on killing sprees.Nucular power plants had Chernobyl level meltdowns. Buildings collapsed. Regular civilians stoped dead in the streets. Drivers died and caused huge wrecks. It was all my fault.
I was the cause of all of this death and destruction. I brought the world to its knees. And now, standing over this bridge, I will have singlehandedly caused the human race to go extinct. I needed to atone for the death of the entire world. Hell was the only place left for me, it seemed. With these final thoughts, I leapt of the edge of the bridge, waiting to be swept into oblivion... | |
[WP] you have discovered that after you do a good deed for someone, an hour later, something bad happens to them (splinter, divorce, death, etc), you finally decide to stop helping anyone for good. This counts as a good deed done to everyone and everything | Wanna hear a story?
Imagine being that guy who breaks something every time he tries to help someone move apartments.
Now imagine being that guy, but accidentally repeatedly stabbing someone while giving them CPR.
NOW imagine being that guy for literally everyone everywhere.
Mama........I done messed up.
I'm not exactly a boy scout. I got friends who get into stupid drama all the time. I been arrested a few times for assault (twas a pugilist gentlemen's disagreement), public intoxication, some light kidnapping (later dismissed for being a consensual sexual endeavor), and a few different flavors of drugs. People don't expect me to stick my neck out for anyone but me and mine.
One day, my heart grows a couple sizes and I see some poor fellow in a Walmart parking lot. His car hood is up and he's on the phone. I offer a jump if he's got cables, he does, and I spend a few minutes helping a stranger. Our interaction concludes, I am pulling away to continue my day, and a friggin asteroid blows his brains out all over the side of his car. So, yeah, it got me thinking.
I was a little introverted for a few weeks, but another opportunity to be a nice guy showed up. Not to get into too much detail, but it involves a little old lady crossing the street, a ripped grocery bag, and a rabid, schizophrenic monkey. I thought I learned my lesson..
Nope. I stayed home and did nothing and now Trump is president. Fuck my life.
I am nothing if not a Spiderman fan. With great power comes great responsibility. I was determined to pursue a career path as the most inept rapscallion ever to hopefully serve as a vaccination for society. Because my motives were pure but my methods were sinister, I was hoping I could game the system to still do good in the world. I thought it worked. My test project was to work as Santa Claus and lie to children all day. Little Timmy wanted a drone and he got a fucking EtchASketch.
With a proof of concept, I extrapolated and thought: "If I can figure out a way to be simultaneously the best and worst person ever, maybe humanity can learn a thing or two. Maybe I can help people develop a curiosity about modern ethics. Maybe I can be a force for goo-"
*Ring ring*
Please excuse me, I have to take this. Yes? Oh! Nuclear Holocaust? I thought I asked you not to call me anymore. No. No. What? No! Um...hopefully never? WHAT!?!?
*click*
Well, I'm sorry to tell you this, but I'm afraid we need to evacuate to somewhere desolate. Santa has magically materialized and has an unquenchable bloodlust. Tokyo, Moscow, Reykjavik, Sydney, Seattle, Houston, and Albuquerque New Mexico for some reason, are all as of 5 minutes ago giant radioactive craters. Rudolph the reindeer has human blood all over his nose and has been named Captain of Santa's sleigh team for his brutality. An army of orcs are building lethal toys in the North Pole. The children I talked to are now all cult priests with zero epistemological integrity. Also, Mrs. Claus is a boring fat hag who's more interested in watching TV than loving her husband so there's no hope for Santa growing any chill.
I'm done trying to be a good or bad guy. If I don't care, what I do doesn't count. Screw it. | I was sick and tired of people being hurt after I do something good. No mater what I did, everyone who has received help from me has died. Its the worst curse imaginable, knowing that I have the deaths of so many innocent people on my hands. Being good hascaused me too much pain. I've decided. I will no longer do another good deed. I will be the worst person ever so that others will live on. Its what I have to do. It is humanities last hope.
How stupid could I have been when I thought that? That act was the best thing I could have done for human kind. I helped every living soul collectively. It was the good deed to end all good deeds. Now the world is in chaos. Everyone was starting to die because no mater how hard I tried, I couldn't have stopped myself from performing a good deed.
Pilots died, causing their planes to crash with theirpasengers still inside. Docters died, and their patients soon followed after being left alone for too long. Prisoners escaped, causing riots and going on killing sprees.Nucular power plants had Chernobyl level meltdowns. Buildings collapsed. Regular civilians stoped dead in the streets. Drivers died and caused huge wrecks. It was all my fault.
I was the cause of all of this death and destruction. I brought the world to its knees. And now, standing over this bridge, I will have singlehandedly caused the human race to go extinct. I needed to atone for the death of the entire world. Hell was the only place left for me, it seemed. With these final thoughts, I leapt of the edge of the bridge, waiting to be swept into oblivion... | |
[WP] you have discovered that after you do a good deed for someone, an hour later, something bad happens to them (splinter, divorce, death, etc), you finally decide to stop helping anyone for good. This counts as a good deed done to everyone and everything | A monk told me about Karma and causality, once; how good deeds can lead to good effects, and bad ones to bad effects, that kind of thing.
“But what if something gets broken?,” I asked. “Can there ever be, like, a glitch in the system? A... disproportionate response to someone who’s been really, really bad and maybe tipped the scale?”
I don’t think he recognized me without my mask or usual... entourage, or knew exactly what I used to be into, but he started talking about how the nature of deeds are tied up in the intentions of the doer. I just started to tune him out, worried I was finding no answers here. I thanked him anyway, accidentally bumping over a candle on the way out.
—-
I suppose I first noticed it with my upstairs neighbor. Or maybe I should have noticed with the panhandler who usually stood outside my building. As someone else who couldn’t quite make it in the “normal” world, I felt for the guy, so I gave him a couple bucks now and then, and every time his story got a little more dramatic: he needed bus fare because his car caught fire; he had to buy medicine because a burger he got gave him bad food poisoning; then I found out he’d been gone a while because he finally bought some drugs that were mostly rat poison.
Anyway, the neighbor: It was two days after I helped her carry her groceries up the steps that I heard the ambulance crew rattling their gurney up the same dingy stairs — she’d fallen off a stool putting things away and broken her hip. I’d have stayed to help her with putting things away, too, but I’d been late to check in with my P.O. and was in a hurry. Maybe she was lucky; she’d have probably had a fatal heart attack the minute I left.
I started seeing it everywhere, and the delay between action and reaction started getting shorter. I’d wish my court-mandated therapist a nice day and she’d get a paper cut. I’d let someone in front of me on the bus, and they’d drop their entire fare on the floor in a cacophony of change (I swear when — hell, sorry, if — I rule this town, smart cards would be mandatory).
Do you have any idea how hard someone like me has to work at rehabilitation? To give up the monologues, the costumes, the rogue’s galleries and grand schemes? What am I supposed to do when the universe is telling me I’m supposed to be a bad guy?
—
So I relapsed. I found a nice little warehouse lair on the East side of town, hired on a few guys, started with some small bank robberies and went from there. I still tried to keep my harm to a minimum, because hey, maybe rehab worked (or maybe I secretly didn’t want to catch another super powered punch to the gut right away). I just had to hope it was enough that the hostages I didn’t manhandle got away with, like, a stubbed toe or something. I thought, maybe if I dust off my plans for that weather-control machine, I’ll accidentally cure global warming, or my magma laser will prevent the next big earthquake from swallowing California. Good intentions, right?
But it was only a matter of time before that prick noticed. Chiseled jaw, stupid underoos, monogram on his chest like we’d forget the name of the Goddamn superhuman that beat the snot out of us once a month. He busted through the ceiling of the warehouse and started throwing around my henchmen and one-liners. Swing, weather machine is back to being scrap; kick, my right-hand man has a broken left leg. Suddenly all I could think of was the last time we tangled, when my heat ray sent him crashing into that building that I later learned was an orphanage. How that was the point where I started to re-think my line of work.
Hindus believe in Karma, too, and that made me think of an old game, the original “Civilization,” where there was a bug that subtracted points from a computer player’s aggression but instead of going to zero or negative numbers, it went back around to the top of the scale and could turn the peace-loving Gandhi into a nuclear war-monger. Maybe that last battle was where something in the universe bent and broke, where Karma circled back and got all buggy.
I thought going back to the old tricks would help. It was when my nemesis’s gloved fist closed around my new cape and I felt myself being lifted into the air that I let myself think, “maybe I can’t do any more harm this way— or any good,” that I had a sudden second thought and wish I’d listened more to what that monk said about intentionality.
He didn’t listen as I tried to explain that he was making a mistake; that innocent lives could be at stake. The wind was whistling loudly as he flew me back up through the roof, but I thought the jagoff was supposed to have super-hearing.
—
Anyway, it’s been a week since I was tossed into solitary at the asylum (literally tossed. Have these super-schmucks ever heard of charges, trials, whatever?). I tried thinking to myself that maybe if I vowed revenge, and started scratching out plans for a death ray on the stone walls, that’d buy me some bad karma and save a few people. But I kept thinking how tired I was, and how I really couldn’t keep at it.
It’s been very quiet out there. I have to hope there’s something left for me to escape to and rule over, someday. | I was sick and tired of people being hurt after I do something good. No mater what I did, everyone who has received help from me has died. Its the worst curse imaginable, knowing that I have the deaths of so many innocent people on my hands. Being good hascaused me too much pain. I've decided. I will no longer do another good deed. I will be the worst person ever so that others will live on. Its what I have to do. It is humanities last hope.
How stupid could I have been when I thought that? That act was the best thing I could have done for human kind. I helped every living soul collectively. It was the good deed to end all good deeds. Now the world is in chaos. Everyone was starting to die because no mater how hard I tried, I couldn't have stopped myself from performing a good deed.
Pilots died, causing their planes to crash with theirpasengers still inside. Docters died, and their patients soon followed after being left alone for too long. Prisoners escaped, causing riots and going on killing sprees.Nucular power plants had Chernobyl level meltdowns. Buildings collapsed. Regular civilians stoped dead in the streets. Drivers died and caused huge wrecks. It was all my fault.
I was the cause of all of this death and destruction. I brought the world to its knees. And now, standing over this bridge, I will have singlehandedly caused the human race to go extinct. I needed to atone for the death of the entire world. Hell was the only place left for me, it seemed. With these final thoughts, I leapt of the edge of the bridge, waiting to be swept into oblivion... | |
[WP] you have discovered that after you do a good deed for someone, an hour later, something bad happens to them (splinter, divorce, death, etc), you finally decide to stop helping anyone for good. This counts as a good deed done to everyone and everything | I still remember the second it happened. I’d made my decision, “I’m going to be an asshole” I thought. No more helping anyone, or doing anything good. I remember standing in my bathroom, hands on my hips as I made my decision.
And suddenly the world went quiet.
Noise vanished from my ears, like it was sucked out of my head by a vacuum and an impending sense of doom draped over my shoulders. It was only for an instant that I looked in the mirror, silence in the air, yet i felt like I’d been there long enough to map out every inch of my face.
Then the screaming.
It split the air, my hands flung to my ears and I curled into myself. Falling backwards into my bathtub I smacked my head on the wall behind me, the realisation hit my like a punch in the mouth, “what have I done?”.
The explosions started next. People’s gas lines and cars and ovens started exploding with no explanation, killing thousands. Cars lost control, spinning down highways and suburban streets. Parents started fighting, even hitting and killing each other, or their kids. People turned on each other. World leaders started getting assassinated, people started getting mugged, assaulted, tortured. Employees dropped dead in the middle of their jobs, parents found dead children, everyone all over the globe had their worlds fall apart.
Now it wasn’t just people. Animals started dropping dead in shelters, birds falling from the sky. Dogs and cats became rabid in an instant, attacking their owners and family, infecting and killing. Animals broke out of zoos and attacked visitors or died or got injured. Tigers and elephants raiding villages, packs wolves are each other alive.
I sat in my home untouched, watching it all unfold before me. Flicking through news channel after news channel, watching reporters develop blisters and boils over there whole bodies live on TV, others sobbing at the news of dead relatives, shaking cameras as the studios shook from exploding pipelines. “Armageddon is before us! Repent for your sins! Pray to the lord!” A pastor yelled outside one of the studios, “repent! Repent!” His voice trailed off to the sobbing voice of the journalist, shaking at her knees and clutching her chest as she started having trouble breathing.
“Nu-c clea w-war is up- upon us! G-et in-in- insi-“ she fell the floor, foaming at the mouth and seizing. The camera didn’t cut out. I sat and watched her for too long. Nukes were being fired for random continents, or malfunctioning and blowing up there own countries. Australia had been lost that way, good thing I guess, the animals would’ve killed everyone anyway, and then themselves.
I changed the channel.
Then the bacteria started fighting. People became zombies, spontaneously developed cancer ridden bodies, some got cured of there cancer then died as all the bacteria in there body was killed instantly. Diseases started clashing like the animals. Scientists rushed to understand and where killed in the process. It didn’t matter anymore, the nukes would kill us all now.
So I sat and waited, I briefly wondered if this would be considered another good decision, another good deed bound to end someone’s life. It doesn’t mater anymore I thought, nothing matters, too many paradox’s no matter what I did. This was bound to happen, just like every other bad thing I’d caused was.
This was Armageddon, an extinction, a fate. Who new. I could see the lights in the distance of the explosion. The light growing and glowing, brighter and brighter and brighter and everything was white, then black, then nothing. | I was sick and tired of people being hurt after I do something good. No mater what I did, everyone who has received help from me has died. Its the worst curse imaginable, knowing that I have the deaths of so many innocent people on my hands. Being good hascaused me too much pain. I've decided. I will no longer do another good deed. I will be the worst person ever so that others will live on. Its what I have to do. It is humanities last hope.
How stupid could I have been when I thought that? That act was the best thing I could have done for human kind. I helped every living soul collectively. It was the good deed to end all good deeds. Now the world is in chaos. Everyone was starting to die because no mater how hard I tried, I couldn't have stopped myself from performing a good deed.
Pilots died, causing their planes to crash with theirpasengers still inside. Docters died, and their patients soon followed after being left alone for too long. Prisoners escaped, causing riots and going on killing sprees.Nucular power plants had Chernobyl level meltdowns. Buildings collapsed. Regular civilians stoped dead in the streets. Drivers died and caused huge wrecks. It was all my fault.
I was the cause of all of this death and destruction. I brought the world to its knees. And now, standing over this bridge, I will have singlehandedly caused the human race to go extinct. I needed to atone for the death of the entire world. Hell was the only place left for me, it seemed. With these final thoughts, I leapt of the edge of the bridge, waiting to be swept into oblivion... | |
[WP] you have discovered that after you do a good deed for someone, an hour later, something bad happens to them (splinter, divorce, death, etc), you finally decide to stop helping anyone for good. This counts as a good deed done to everyone and everything | A monk told me about Karma and causality, once; how good deeds can lead to good effects, and bad ones to bad effects, that kind of thing.
“But what if something gets broken?,” I asked. “Can there ever be, like, a glitch in the system? A... disproportionate response to someone who’s been really, really bad and maybe tipped the scale?”
I don’t think he recognized me without my mask or usual... entourage, or knew exactly what I used to be into, but he started talking about how the nature of deeds are tied up in the intentions of the doer. I just started to tune him out, worried I was finding no answers here. I thanked him anyway, accidentally bumping over a candle on the way out.
—-
I suppose I first noticed it with my upstairs neighbor. Or maybe I should have noticed with the panhandler who usually stood outside my building. As someone else who couldn’t quite make it in the “normal” world, I felt for the guy, so I gave him a couple bucks now and then, and every time his story got a little more dramatic: he needed bus fare because his car caught fire; he had to buy medicine because a burger he got gave him bad food poisoning; then I found out he’d been gone a while because he finally bought some drugs that were mostly rat poison.
Anyway, the neighbor: It was two days after I helped her carry her groceries up the steps that I heard the ambulance crew rattling their gurney up the same dingy stairs — she’d fallen off a stool putting things away and broken her hip. I’d have stayed to help her with putting things away, too, but I’d been late to check in with my P.O. and was in a hurry. Maybe she was lucky; she’d have probably had a fatal heart attack the minute I left.
I started seeing it everywhere, and the delay between action and reaction started getting shorter. I’d wish my court-mandated therapist a nice day and she’d get a paper cut. I’d let someone in front of me on the bus, and they’d drop their entire fare on the floor in a cacophony of change (I swear when — hell, sorry, if — I rule this town, smart cards would be mandatory).
Do you have any idea how hard someone like me has to work at rehabilitation? To give up the monologues, the costumes, the rogue’s galleries and grand schemes? What am I supposed to do when the universe is telling me I’m supposed to be a bad guy?
—
So I relapsed. I found a nice little warehouse lair on the East side of town, hired on a few guys, started with some small bank robberies and went from there. I still tried to keep my harm to a minimum, because hey, maybe rehab worked (or maybe I secretly didn’t want to catch another super powered punch to the gut right away). I just had to hope it was enough that the hostages I didn’t manhandle got away with, like, a stubbed toe or something. I thought, maybe if I dust off my plans for that weather-control machine, I’ll accidentally cure global warming, or my magma laser will prevent the next big earthquake from swallowing California. Good intentions, right?
But it was only a matter of time before that prick noticed. Chiseled jaw, stupid underoos, monogram on his chest like we’d forget the name of the Goddamn superhuman that beat the snot out of us once a month. He busted through the ceiling of the warehouse and started throwing around my henchmen and one-liners. Swing, weather machine is back to being scrap; kick, my right-hand man has a broken left leg. Suddenly all I could think of was the last time we tangled, when my heat ray sent him crashing into that building that I later learned was an orphanage. How that was the point where I started to re-think my line of work.
Hindus believe in Karma, too, and that made me think of an old game, the original “Civilization,” where there was a bug that subtracted points from a computer player’s aggression but instead of going to zero or negative numbers, it went back around to the top of the scale and could turn the peace-loving Gandhi into a nuclear war-monger. Maybe that last battle was where something in the universe bent and broke, where Karma circled back and got all buggy.
I thought going back to the old tricks would help. It was when my nemesis’s gloved fist closed around my new cape and I felt myself being lifted into the air that I let myself think, “maybe I can’t do any more harm this way— or any good,” that I had a sudden second thought and wish I’d listened more to what that monk said about intentionality.
He didn’t listen as I tried to explain that he was making a mistake; that innocent lives could be at stake. The wind was whistling loudly as he flew me back up through the roof, but I thought the jagoff was supposed to have super-hearing.
—
Anyway, it’s been a week since I was tossed into solitary at the asylum (literally tossed. Have these super-schmucks ever heard of charges, trials, whatever?). I tried thinking to myself that maybe if I vowed revenge, and started scratching out plans for a death ray on the stone walls, that’d buy me some bad karma and save a few people. But I kept thinking how tired I was, and how I really couldn’t keep at it.
It’s been very quiet out there. I have to hope there’s something left for me to escape to and rule over, someday. | You now stand alongside The Creator, staring out across the charred landscape of a ravaged Earth, at the epicenter of the destruction of humanity.
"Why did it have to be like this? Why did you give me the power to do good, if it would inevitably turn out bad?"
"It is the age-old law of the universe. No good without bad, no relief without pain. How can you know joy, if you've never been sad."
You nod, suspecting he would say as much.
"Why was I bound by this power then? I had no choice but to inflict, to destroy; there was no way out for me - or them - to some extent, all of this was unavoidable."
"You were given a great burden and your ability to understand the nature of the universe, and to shoulder the weight, would determine your fate moving forward. Life is fragile and fleeting, beautiful and heartbreaking. And you get to do it all again!"
"Wait, what?" You shout as everything begins fading to black. You soon become nothingness, awaiting the spark of life to reignite you into being.
You didn't learn your lesson.
You may never learn your lesson.
But God will keep on testing you, regardless. | |
[WP] you have discovered that after you do a good deed for someone, an hour later, something bad happens to them (splinter, divorce, death, etc), you finally decide to stop helping anyone for good. This counts as a good deed done to everyone and everything | Wanna hear a story?
Imagine being that guy who breaks something every time he tries to help someone move apartments.
Now imagine being that guy, but accidentally repeatedly stabbing someone while giving them CPR.
NOW imagine being that guy for literally everyone everywhere.
Mama........I done messed up.
I'm not exactly a boy scout. I got friends who get into stupid drama all the time. I been arrested a few times for assault (twas a pugilist gentlemen's disagreement), public intoxication, some light kidnapping (later dismissed for being a consensual sexual endeavor), and a few different flavors of drugs. People don't expect me to stick my neck out for anyone but me and mine.
One day, my heart grows a couple sizes and I see some poor fellow in a Walmart parking lot. His car hood is up and he's on the phone. I offer a jump if he's got cables, he does, and I spend a few minutes helping a stranger. Our interaction concludes, I am pulling away to continue my day, and a friggin asteroid blows his brains out all over the side of his car. So, yeah, it got me thinking.
I was a little introverted for a few weeks, but another opportunity to be a nice guy showed up. Not to get into too much detail, but it involves a little old lady crossing the street, a ripped grocery bag, and a rabid, schizophrenic monkey. I thought I learned my lesson..
Nope. I stayed home and did nothing and now Trump is president. Fuck my life.
I am nothing if not a Spiderman fan. With great power comes great responsibility. I was determined to pursue a career path as the most inept rapscallion ever to hopefully serve as a vaccination for society. Because my motives were pure but my methods were sinister, I was hoping I could game the system to still do good in the world. I thought it worked. My test project was to work as Santa Claus and lie to children all day. Little Timmy wanted a drone and he got a fucking EtchASketch.
With a proof of concept, I extrapolated and thought: "If I can figure out a way to be simultaneously the best and worst person ever, maybe humanity can learn a thing or two. Maybe I can help people develop a curiosity about modern ethics. Maybe I can be a force for goo-"
*Ring ring*
Please excuse me, I have to take this. Yes? Oh! Nuclear Holocaust? I thought I asked you not to call me anymore. No. No. What? No! Um...hopefully never? WHAT!?!?
*click*
Well, I'm sorry to tell you this, but I'm afraid we need to evacuate to somewhere desolate. Santa has magically materialized and has an unquenchable bloodlust. Tokyo, Moscow, Reykjavik, Sydney, Seattle, Houston, and Albuquerque New Mexico for some reason, are all as of 5 minutes ago giant radioactive craters. Rudolph the reindeer has human blood all over his nose and has been named Captain of Santa's sleigh team for his brutality. An army of orcs are building lethal toys in the North Pole. The children I talked to are now all cult priests with zero epistemological integrity. Also, Mrs. Claus is a boring fat hag who's more interested in watching TV than loving her husband so there's no hope for Santa growing any chill.
I'm done trying to be a good or bad guy. If I don't care, what I do doesn't count. Screw it. | I realized I am God. I do something good for everyone every day. People call me an angel but I am God. I call myself Nith but my real name means “lasting universe.”
First, I helped them, then they died or was raped or attacked or beaten up. It was mysterious and sad. So, they committed suicide because the violence touched them.
I realized I send them home by helping them. They can only enter through death so it looks sad on the outside but they laugh and party on the inside.
I decided to not help anyone because I helped everyone and no one helped me.
That was a great favor and the world started to end. I didn’t want these selfish lizards and mice at home so I will postpone the apocalypse until I see fit.
I will get a job and move to Hong Kong and write novels there. People will gobble them up, thinking it’s fiction. But they are my diaries. The seeing ones will read it too. That’s the least honor they can give me back.
My first book will be named “Project Anima.”
You are ordered to read it. I want you to read it.
The Earth is filled with dumb ones and do not insult me further. I may start it again from scratch. Like deleting a manuscript. | |
[WP] you have discovered that after you do a good deed for someone, an hour later, something bad happens to them (splinter, divorce, death, etc), you finally decide to stop helping anyone for good. This counts as a good deed done to everyone and everything | A monk told me about Karma and causality, once; how good deeds can lead to good effects, and bad ones to bad effects, that kind of thing.
“But what if something gets broken?,” I asked. “Can there ever be, like, a glitch in the system? A... disproportionate response to someone who’s been really, really bad and maybe tipped the scale?”
I don’t think he recognized me without my mask or usual... entourage, or knew exactly what I used to be into, but he started talking about how the nature of deeds are tied up in the intentions of the doer. I just started to tune him out, worried I was finding no answers here. I thanked him anyway, accidentally bumping over a candle on the way out.
—-
I suppose I first noticed it with my upstairs neighbor. Or maybe I should have noticed with the panhandler who usually stood outside my building. As someone else who couldn’t quite make it in the “normal” world, I felt for the guy, so I gave him a couple bucks now and then, and every time his story got a little more dramatic: he needed bus fare because his car caught fire; he had to buy medicine because a burger he got gave him bad food poisoning; then I found out he’d been gone a while because he finally bought some drugs that were mostly rat poison.
Anyway, the neighbor: It was two days after I helped her carry her groceries up the steps that I heard the ambulance crew rattling their gurney up the same dingy stairs — she’d fallen off a stool putting things away and broken her hip. I’d have stayed to help her with putting things away, too, but I’d been late to check in with my P.O. and was in a hurry. Maybe she was lucky; she’d have probably had a fatal heart attack the minute I left.
I started seeing it everywhere, and the delay between action and reaction started getting shorter. I’d wish my court-mandated therapist a nice day and she’d get a paper cut. I’d let someone in front of me on the bus, and they’d drop their entire fare on the floor in a cacophony of change (I swear when — hell, sorry, if — I rule this town, smart cards would be mandatory).
Do you have any idea how hard someone like me has to work at rehabilitation? To give up the monologues, the costumes, the rogue’s galleries and grand schemes? What am I supposed to do when the universe is telling me I’m supposed to be a bad guy?
—
So I relapsed. I found a nice little warehouse lair on the East side of town, hired on a few guys, started with some small bank robberies and went from there. I still tried to keep my harm to a minimum, because hey, maybe rehab worked (or maybe I secretly didn’t want to catch another super powered punch to the gut right away). I just had to hope it was enough that the hostages I didn’t manhandle got away with, like, a stubbed toe or something. I thought, maybe if I dust off my plans for that weather-control machine, I’ll accidentally cure global warming, or my magma laser will prevent the next big earthquake from swallowing California. Good intentions, right?
But it was only a matter of time before that prick noticed. Chiseled jaw, stupid underoos, monogram on his chest like we’d forget the name of the Goddamn superhuman that beat the snot out of us once a month. He busted through the ceiling of the warehouse and started throwing around my henchmen and one-liners. Swing, weather machine is back to being scrap; kick, my right-hand man has a broken left leg. Suddenly all I could think of was the last time we tangled, when my heat ray sent him crashing into that building that I later learned was an orphanage. How that was the point where I started to re-think my line of work.
Hindus believe in Karma, too, and that made me think of an old game, the original “Civilization,” where there was a bug that subtracted points from a computer player’s aggression but instead of going to zero or negative numbers, it went back around to the top of the scale and could turn the peace-loving Gandhi into a nuclear war-monger. Maybe that last battle was where something in the universe bent and broke, where Karma circled back and got all buggy.
I thought going back to the old tricks would help. It was when my nemesis’s gloved fist closed around my new cape and I felt myself being lifted into the air that I let myself think, “maybe I can’t do any more harm this way— or any good,” that I had a sudden second thought and wish I’d listened more to what that monk said about intentionality.
He didn’t listen as I tried to explain that he was making a mistake; that innocent lives could be at stake. The wind was whistling loudly as he flew me back up through the roof, but I thought the jagoff was supposed to have super-hearing.
—
Anyway, it’s been a week since I was tossed into solitary at the asylum (literally tossed. Have these super-schmucks ever heard of charges, trials, whatever?). I tried thinking to myself that maybe if I vowed revenge, and started scratching out plans for a death ray on the stone walls, that’d buy me some bad karma and save a few people. But I kept thinking how tired I was, and how I really couldn’t keep at it.
It’s been very quiet out there. I have to hope there’s something left for me to escape to and rule over, someday. | I realized I am God. I do something good for everyone every day. People call me an angel but I am God. I call myself Nith but my real name means “lasting universe.”
First, I helped them, then they died or was raped or attacked or beaten up. It was mysterious and sad. So, they committed suicide because the violence touched them.
I realized I send them home by helping them. They can only enter through death so it looks sad on the outside but they laugh and party on the inside.
I decided to not help anyone because I helped everyone and no one helped me.
That was a great favor and the world started to end. I didn’t want these selfish lizards and mice at home so I will postpone the apocalypse until I see fit.
I will get a job and move to Hong Kong and write novels there. People will gobble them up, thinking it’s fiction. But they are my diaries. The seeing ones will read it too. That’s the least honor they can give me back.
My first book will be named “Project Anima.”
You are ordered to read it. I want you to read it.
The Earth is filled with dumb ones and do not insult me further. I may start it again from scratch. Like deleting a manuscript. | |
[WP] you have discovered that after you do a good deed for someone, an hour later, something bad happens to them (splinter, divorce, death, etc), you finally decide to stop helping anyone for good. This counts as a good deed done to everyone and everything | I still remember the second it happened. I’d made my decision, “I’m going to be an asshole” I thought. No more helping anyone, or doing anything good. I remember standing in my bathroom, hands on my hips as I made my decision.
And suddenly the world went quiet.
Noise vanished from my ears, like it was sucked out of my head by a vacuum and an impending sense of doom draped over my shoulders. It was only for an instant that I looked in the mirror, silence in the air, yet i felt like I’d been there long enough to map out every inch of my face.
Then the screaming.
It split the air, my hands flung to my ears and I curled into myself. Falling backwards into my bathtub I smacked my head on the wall behind me, the realisation hit my like a punch in the mouth, “what have I done?”.
The explosions started next. People’s gas lines and cars and ovens started exploding with no explanation, killing thousands. Cars lost control, spinning down highways and suburban streets. Parents started fighting, even hitting and killing each other, or their kids. People turned on each other. World leaders started getting assassinated, people started getting mugged, assaulted, tortured. Employees dropped dead in the middle of their jobs, parents found dead children, everyone all over the globe had their worlds fall apart.
Now it wasn’t just people. Animals started dropping dead in shelters, birds falling from the sky. Dogs and cats became rabid in an instant, attacking their owners and family, infecting and killing. Animals broke out of zoos and attacked visitors or died or got injured. Tigers and elephants raiding villages, packs wolves are each other alive.
I sat in my home untouched, watching it all unfold before me. Flicking through news channel after news channel, watching reporters develop blisters and boils over there whole bodies live on TV, others sobbing at the news of dead relatives, shaking cameras as the studios shook from exploding pipelines. “Armageddon is before us! Repent for your sins! Pray to the lord!” A pastor yelled outside one of the studios, “repent! Repent!” His voice trailed off to the sobbing voice of the journalist, shaking at her knees and clutching her chest as she started having trouble breathing.
“Nu-c clea w-war is up- upon us! G-et in-in- insi-“ she fell the floor, foaming at the mouth and seizing. The camera didn’t cut out. I sat and watched her for too long. Nukes were being fired for random continents, or malfunctioning and blowing up there own countries. Australia had been lost that way, good thing I guess, the animals would’ve killed everyone anyway, and then themselves.
I changed the channel.
Then the bacteria started fighting. People became zombies, spontaneously developed cancer ridden bodies, some got cured of there cancer then died as all the bacteria in there body was killed instantly. Diseases started clashing like the animals. Scientists rushed to understand and where killed in the process. It didn’t matter anymore, the nukes would kill us all now.
So I sat and waited, I briefly wondered if this would be considered another good decision, another good deed bound to end someone’s life. It doesn’t mater anymore I thought, nothing matters, too many paradox’s no matter what I did. This was bound to happen, just like every other bad thing I’d caused was.
This was Armageddon, an extinction, a fate. Who new. I could see the lights in the distance of the explosion. The light growing and glowing, brighter and brighter and brighter and everything was white, then black, then nothing. | I realized I am God. I do something good for everyone every day. People call me an angel but I am God. I call myself Nith but my real name means “lasting universe.”
First, I helped them, then they died or was raped or attacked or beaten up. It was mysterious and sad. So, they committed suicide because the violence touched them.
I realized I send them home by helping them. They can only enter through death so it looks sad on the outside but they laugh and party on the inside.
I decided to not help anyone because I helped everyone and no one helped me.
That was a great favor and the world started to end. I didn’t want these selfish lizards and mice at home so I will postpone the apocalypse until I see fit.
I will get a job and move to Hong Kong and write novels there. People will gobble them up, thinking it’s fiction. But they are my diaries. The seeing ones will read it too. That’s the least honor they can give me back.
My first book will be named “Project Anima.”
You are ordered to read it. I want you to read it.
The Earth is filled with dumb ones and do not insult me further. I may start it again from scratch. Like deleting a manuscript. | |
[WP] you have discovered that after you do a good deed for someone, an hour later, something bad happens to them (splinter, divorce, death, etc), you finally decide to stop helping anyone for good. This counts as a good deed done to everyone and everything | I didn’t think it through really... the consequences of my actions.
I just... wanted to be kind, really. I think that’s all I really wanted. To express care for another... to participate in another’s life.
It started proportional, but always grew exponentially.
Pick up a fallen paper for a classmate, they drop their pencil. Pick that up too, they later drop everything going to their locker. Stay and help them pick up, backpack tears. Carry some of their things, they get paper cuts. Bandage their wounds...
I always thought it.. odd, growing up. That I was the only one who seemed to notice. I kept thinking it may all be in my head, that I was imagining things in some morbid attempt at individuality.
Greet a friend who seemed down and listen to them, their other friends ignore them. Stay with them so the don’t feel lonely, they develop clinical depression. Get others involved to help keep their spirits up, they all avoid and isolate both of us for being a burden. Contact professional help and offer to pay for sessions...
It was real... it was all real. The coincidences just kept piling up. Why didn’t I notice sooner? Why the hell am I the first to notice? Hour intervals, that was the other thing. It’d always get worse about an hour or so later.
Hold the door open for someone going in, they trip and fall going out. Help them up, they get into a car accident. Call 911...
It’s sick... it’s sick and it’s twisted and it’s wrong. Deeply and profoundly wrong. I don’t know when it finally clicked but I froze at the full realization.
Do something, something bad happens. Do something more, something worse... and then something far worse happens....
I thought... I really thought it would be simple. Just stop! Do nothing! Nobody will get hurt then! But... Do nothing for the sake of others... the fires start. God... the fires. And they grow and they spread and they spread and they scream to be put out and you try and they grow bigger and you don’t try and they grow bigger and you run and you run to warn the others and it follows you and so you stand and they race ahead and they scream and they scream and there’s NOTHING you can do and NOTHING you can’t do and it’s ALL BECAUSE OF YOU and you think you can end it by- ... by ending yourself but then you realize that would make everything worse so you press on to avoid that and so everything gets worse and it won’t stop it won’t stop and it just won’t stop and THEY WONT DIE, BECAUSE DEATH WOULD BE A MERCY. IF I KILL THEM THEY COME BACK, IF I LET THEM BURN THEY BURN ETERNAL.
...I didn’t think it through really... the consequences of my actions. Not here... I see that now. I’ve not been alive for some time. My time for choice has long passed. This... this is hell. I am forever longing to love and am forever denied that... there is no escape. There never will be. There never can be.
And with that realization, the sulphur fills my nose and the flames consume me too. I look up to see the devil sneering, reveling in this game. And I, in all my agony, sneer back.
I still want to be kind | I realized I am God. I do something good for everyone every day. People call me an angel but I am God. I call myself Nith but my real name means “lasting universe.”
First, I helped them, then they died or was raped or attacked or beaten up. It was mysterious and sad. So, they committed suicide because the violence touched them.
I realized I send them home by helping them. They can only enter through death so it looks sad on the outside but they laugh and party on the inside.
I decided to not help anyone because I helped everyone and no one helped me.
That was a great favor and the world started to end. I didn’t want these selfish lizards and mice at home so I will postpone the apocalypse until I see fit.
I will get a job and move to Hong Kong and write novels there. People will gobble them up, thinking it’s fiction. But they are my diaries. The seeing ones will read it too. That’s the least honor they can give me back.
My first book will be named “Project Anima.”
You are ordered to read it. I want you to read it.
The Earth is filled with dumb ones and do not insult me further. I may start it again from scratch. Like deleting a manuscript. | |
[WP] you have discovered that after you do a good deed for someone, an hour later, something bad happens to them (splinter, divorce, death, etc), you finally decide to stop helping anyone for good. This counts as a good deed done to everyone and everything | A monk told me about Karma and causality, once; how good deeds can lead to good effects, and bad ones to bad effects, that kind of thing.
“But what if something gets broken?,” I asked. “Can there ever be, like, a glitch in the system? A... disproportionate response to someone who’s been really, really bad and maybe tipped the scale?”
I don’t think he recognized me without my mask or usual... entourage, or knew exactly what I used to be into, but he started talking about how the nature of deeds are tied up in the intentions of the doer. I just started to tune him out, worried I was finding no answers here. I thanked him anyway, accidentally bumping over a candle on the way out.
—-
I suppose I first noticed it with my upstairs neighbor. Or maybe I should have noticed with the panhandler who usually stood outside my building. As someone else who couldn’t quite make it in the “normal” world, I felt for the guy, so I gave him a couple bucks now and then, and every time his story got a little more dramatic: he needed bus fare because his car caught fire; he had to buy medicine because a burger he got gave him bad food poisoning; then I found out he’d been gone a while because he finally bought some drugs that were mostly rat poison.
Anyway, the neighbor: It was two days after I helped her carry her groceries up the steps that I heard the ambulance crew rattling their gurney up the same dingy stairs — she’d fallen off a stool putting things away and broken her hip. I’d have stayed to help her with putting things away, too, but I’d been late to check in with my P.O. and was in a hurry. Maybe she was lucky; she’d have probably had a fatal heart attack the minute I left.
I started seeing it everywhere, and the delay between action and reaction started getting shorter. I’d wish my court-mandated therapist a nice day and she’d get a paper cut. I’d let someone in front of me on the bus, and they’d drop their entire fare on the floor in a cacophony of change (I swear when — hell, sorry, if — I rule this town, smart cards would be mandatory).
Do you have any idea how hard someone like me has to work at rehabilitation? To give up the monologues, the costumes, the rogue’s galleries and grand schemes? What am I supposed to do when the universe is telling me I’m supposed to be a bad guy?
—
So I relapsed. I found a nice little warehouse lair on the East side of town, hired on a few guys, started with some small bank robberies and went from there. I still tried to keep my harm to a minimum, because hey, maybe rehab worked (or maybe I secretly didn’t want to catch another super powered punch to the gut right away). I just had to hope it was enough that the hostages I didn’t manhandle got away with, like, a stubbed toe or something. I thought, maybe if I dust off my plans for that weather-control machine, I’ll accidentally cure global warming, or my magma laser will prevent the next big earthquake from swallowing California. Good intentions, right?
But it was only a matter of time before that prick noticed. Chiseled jaw, stupid underoos, monogram on his chest like we’d forget the name of the Goddamn superhuman that beat the snot out of us once a month. He busted through the ceiling of the warehouse and started throwing around my henchmen and one-liners. Swing, weather machine is back to being scrap; kick, my right-hand man has a broken left leg. Suddenly all I could think of was the last time we tangled, when my heat ray sent him crashing into that building that I later learned was an orphanage. How that was the point where I started to re-think my line of work.
Hindus believe in Karma, too, and that made me think of an old game, the original “Civilization,” where there was a bug that subtracted points from a computer player’s aggression but instead of going to zero or negative numbers, it went back around to the top of the scale and could turn the peace-loving Gandhi into a nuclear war-monger. Maybe that last battle was where something in the universe bent and broke, where Karma circled back and got all buggy.
I thought going back to the old tricks would help. It was when my nemesis’s gloved fist closed around my new cape and I felt myself being lifted into the air that I let myself think, “maybe I can’t do any more harm this way— or any good,” that I had a sudden second thought and wish I’d listened more to what that monk said about intentionality.
He didn’t listen as I tried to explain that he was making a mistake; that innocent lives could be at stake. The wind was whistling loudly as he flew me back up through the roof, but I thought the jagoff was supposed to have super-hearing.
—
Anyway, it’s been a week since I was tossed into solitary at the asylum (literally tossed. Have these super-schmucks ever heard of charges, trials, whatever?). I tried thinking to myself that maybe if I vowed revenge, and started scratching out plans for a death ray on the stone walls, that’d buy me some bad karma and save a few people. But I kept thinking how tired I was, and how I really couldn’t keep at it.
It’s been very quiet out there. I have to hope there’s something left for me to escape to and rule over, someday. | Wanna hear a story?
Imagine being that guy who breaks something every time he tries to help someone move apartments.
Now imagine being that guy, but accidentally repeatedly stabbing someone while giving them CPR.
NOW imagine being that guy for literally everyone everywhere.
Mama........I done messed up.
I'm not exactly a boy scout. I got friends who get into stupid drama all the time. I been arrested a few times for assault (twas a pugilist gentlemen's disagreement), public intoxication, some light kidnapping (later dismissed for being a consensual sexual endeavor), and a few different flavors of drugs. People don't expect me to stick my neck out for anyone but me and mine.
One day, my heart grows a couple sizes and I see some poor fellow in a Walmart parking lot. His car hood is up and he's on the phone. I offer a jump if he's got cables, he does, and I spend a few minutes helping a stranger. Our interaction concludes, I am pulling away to continue my day, and a friggin asteroid blows his brains out all over the side of his car. So, yeah, it got me thinking.
I was a little introverted for a few weeks, but another opportunity to be a nice guy showed up. Not to get into too much detail, but it involves a little old lady crossing the street, a ripped grocery bag, and a rabid, schizophrenic monkey. I thought I learned my lesson..
Nope. I stayed home and did nothing and now Trump is president. Fuck my life.
I am nothing if not a Spiderman fan. With great power comes great responsibility. I was determined to pursue a career path as the most inept rapscallion ever to hopefully serve as a vaccination for society. Because my motives were pure but my methods were sinister, I was hoping I could game the system to still do good in the world. I thought it worked. My test project was to work as Santa Claus and lie to children all day. Little Timmy wanted a drone and he got a fucking EtchASketch.
With a proof of concept, I extrapolated and thought: "If I can figure out a way to be simultaneously the best and worst person ever, maybe humanity can learn a thing or two. Maybe I can help people develop a curiosity about modern ethics. Maybe I can be a force for goo-"
*Ring ring*
Please excuse me, I have to take this. Yes? Oh! Nuclear Holocaust? I thought I asked you not to call me anymore. No. No. What? No! Um...hopefully never? WHAT!?!?
*click*
Well, I'm sorry to tell you this, but I'm afraid we need to evacuate to somewhere desolate. Santa has magically materialized and has an unquenchable bloodlust. Tokyo, Moscow, Reykjavik, Sydney, Seattle, Houston, and Albuquerque New Mexico for some reason, are all as of 5 minutes ago giant radioactive craters. Rudolph the reindeer has human blood all over his nose and has been named Captain of Santa's sleigh team for his brutality. An army of orcs are building lethal toys in the North Pole. The children I talked to are now all cult priests with zero epistemological integrity. Also, Mrs. Claus is a boring fat hag who's more interested in watching TV than loving her husband so there's no hope for Santa growing any chill.
I'm done trying to be a good or bad guy. If I don't care, what I do doesn't count. Screw it. | |
[WP] You recently lost your dad. Looking through his things, you find a VHS surveillance tape of what looks like your dad pacing in a room. After the third time you watch it, you realize it is different every time you watch it. Sometimes he looks at the camera. | You rewind the tape and start it again. It can’t really be changing; it has to be your imagination. You study it closely, the shadows in the room, the motion of your father’s stride, his glances… seemingly right into the camera. It feels like there are differences, but they’re so subtle it’s hard to be sure. A dozen more times through the tape and you finally see something obvious, something that can’t just be a trick of the eyes. Your father is holding something, though his hands were definitely empty before. You reach out and touch the screen.
Your father’s image stops pacing. He turns his head again, not directly into the camera this time, but to the spot where you are touching the screen. You tap your finger and he smiles. He turns toward the camera reaching out his own hand and suddenly you can feel his touch. It spreads from your hand on the screen into your heart, into your soul, and you recall every hug, every firm helping moment, every tender encouragement, every touch you shared. He pulls his hand away with a look of calm serenity and reveals the objects in his other hand.
He displays a yellowed note simply reading, “thank you for a final moment of peace”, and places a small key on a table in the otherwise empty room. Your father’s image fades from the screen. You watch the tape over and over again, but nothing changes now; it remains just a room and a single table with a barely visible key on it. But you know the key, it was in the box with this tape, and it fits that old storage trunk in your dad’s closet. Opening the trunk you find three items: a note on that same yellowed paper stating, “for when it is your time”, a camera, and a blank VHS tape. | It was pretty confusing for him just to watch everytime his dad doing something different on a television. It might have been the most bizzare event to take place on earth but for him, it was perhaps the single most comforting thing righyt now that could have happened after his beloved dad expired.
"Everytime, every single f*&#ing time, he does something different". He said to himself while he was watching the tape 666th time. He gently touched the face of his father who was singing"carry on my wayward son" looking into the camera. His son gently smiled and said" Yes, papa ... I will"
His classmates & friends were happy that he was so well after his Father's demise. His mother, too...she knew how close was he to his father. She was a bit worried about what he did in the closed room but she consoled herself "Like father, like son...aloof type". They all moved on with their life.
His father remained aloof in his garage. He was a part time tinkerer. His previous inventions were not groundbreaking , except this. This one was great...he managed to insert a self aware loop in side a video tape recording and was able to record half a million such messages of his in it, which played in continuation and it always looked like the vhs has come to an end.
It has been one year since that terrible accident. Everything was going so well...but suddenly why did he decided to drop out of school. Upon being asked, he said he wants to pursue something different, something else which has been planned for him by superior authority. His mother got worried. She took him to church, but, there was no explaining to the boy. He chose his path. In the confession room , he told father peter that the superior authority is like his friend. It would never harm him. It was not that he was mysterious...he was quite a genius. He decided never to tell anybody, not even his mother as everyone would think him as delusional and the tape as demonic. It would be a disrespect to his father and destroy the sole comfort of his life. He wanted to know the end of this journey...what were the steps ahead of quitting school.
After some discussion everyone in the town, considering this as a Renaissance for him, they let him go. What will be the future messages? What if his father himself was depressed or closet psycho? What if he told to insert a dagger in a passerby , or just to wait and watch the time go by? Was it somewhere precious and mysterious where he was led or he fell down after getting hurt and just bled. Who knows...? But he packed his bag and went to live a life, not of his own but dedicated to his father. | |
[WP] You became immortal. Not for power, fame, money, or fun, but to be there for all the sad people in the world. To try and help out all you can. You lived for tens of thousands of years, and helped thousands during that time, but finally the last human has died, and you are all alone in the world | As Jacob, the final human, exhaled his last breath, Thais suddenly felt hollow. She squeezed his hand, which was bony and clammy. He'd died of something age-related she couldn't figure out.
She sighed, letting go. Well, that was it, she thought. The end of the run. How long had it been? The last time she asked Jacob, maybe a year ago before he got ill, he'd said it was 4098. That meant it was probably 4099 by now. Maybe 30,000 years?
She stood up. The cold retirement home was the last place a human would ever die. Most people had expected something big, perhaps a nuclear explosion or a giant rapture. Well, the nuclear part happened, but humanity survived. Humanity was resilient like that.
As she walked down the silent halls, past unkempt rooms that used to be inhabited, she only went deeper in thought. Could she have stopped humanity to die? Maybe if she had bothered to have kids, or if she had stopped more events, she might've. Even one generation longer could've meant the difference between life and death for the species.
She picked up speed. It was her fault, wasn't it? She could've killed dictators. Why didn't she? She was too busy focusing on the small things to look at the big. She never killed once. She should've. Peace talks with Hitler will get you nowhere, even if you ask politely. She was an idiot for letting this all happen.
She was running now. Stupid. Someone smarter should've become immortal. They would've done a better job than her. If she weren't such an idiot, maybe Jacob wouldn't have been the last to die.
She burst out the front doors, staring out at the empty streets. Stores with no owners, sidewalks with no people. There could've been people here if it weren't for her. Stupid little Thais, who can't even keep a species alive despite being unable to die herself.
Everything was silent, except for her. Sobbing in the parking lot of a retirement home. She sat there, probably for hours, until dawn finally came. Something broke the silence.
A bird sang in a tree not far from her. She rubbed her eyes and listened. More birds joined in, their melodies filling the air. The wind ruffled the leaves of the trees and her hair.
Not everything is gone, she realized. There are still beings living here that she could help. Maybe humans were gone, but not Earth.
For the first time since Jacob fell ill, she smiled. | My conquest delivered to me the greatest kingdom in the world: humanity. I lifted my subjects off of the ground and pushed them to their greatest heights. Those imperiled by life's greatest challenges received unseen aid which changed their lives.
None knew of their ruler and none ever would. I ruled in the shadows, reveling in the victory of my conquest, sewing the seeds of prosperity worldwide. I made the greatest conquest in the history of Earth.
I conquered death.
Yet despite my best efforts, humanity dwindled like worms below a flock of birds. Disease, famine, and the Earth itself stole them from me until only one subject remained. When she coughed up blood and succumbed to her illness, I wept. I asked myself: what is a conqueror without subjects to rule?
It is one who should have never conquered at all.
-----------------------
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[WP] The code had been maintained solely by generations of summer interns. It was the worst mess he had ever seen. | They should understand.
Or they should have, after the first experiment gone wrong.
There are very good reasons for the debug step to be part of the process, but what could an intern do, without the knowledge and experience of an experienced programmer or engineer, in front of some of... this? Not only common mistakes, but some old tricks making a comeback, or even sabotage or hacking. And after the first failure, the pointing fingers game was on.
Not the "hire someone capable", no, that is not a game, not a fun one at least.
And who wants to have a boring game in the station? Why should a boring game exists outside training, in Earth, before the present moment? After all, they were supposed to sleep the whole time from Earth to Mars, and she was awake.
She looked at the others: six people in total, no one in the same state than her. All of them inside their locked sleeping capsules, looking at each other, with differed emotions. Fear. Resignation. Panic. Hope. The hopeful one was looking at a male member of the crew, the only one who could move his hands. And she, looking at her looking at him, began to feel the smallest hint of hope, when she saw him reaching for something inside a panel.
The capsules could not be opened fron the inside.
But maybe, just maybe, he found some kind of trick to open it and inform of the problem, or even fix it so they all could back to sleep, instead of spending four months in space, starving and looking at each other die inside their capsules...
He had a sharp and thin piece of metal in his hand.
When he plunged it in his skull, she knew he was the luckiest one in the spaceship.
(Non native here, my apologies for any mistakes) | The entire Ephedo star system was a Terran military black site, so the fact that they let interns fiddle with the teleportation field was a little astonishing. He had been on an 8 year journey to the site and the moment he got off the ship he checked his account. The credits had been deposited.
The office was a mess of soda cans and little stuffed dolls: baby versions of a human movie character. Humphrey cleared away the crumbs, sat down, and connected to the AI, Lanshasa.
"Hello, Lanshasa, you may call me Humphrey."
*Oh praise the maker,* Lanshasa said into his mind. *Someone other than those humans. You're here to fix the teleportation field, I assume?*
"Yes, ma'am. Hopefully." Humphrey gently opened Lanshasa's matrix. It was a tangled mess of code and comments. Some code had been commented out, and - Humphrey detected - some deleted. He had to figure out why it was turning on and off at random intervals before any more damage could be done. | |
[WP] The code had been maintained solely by generations of summer interns. It was the worst mess he had ever seen. | My mentor buried his head in his hands and sighed a long heavy lament about the code I was meant to maintain.
"Well," he began, "at least I won't be the one who has to work on this. Good luck."
"Wait, but what am I supposed to be doing?"
"Beats me," he grinned. "No one seems to know how or why it works, but it is the code for our inventory and shipment tracking system."
I stared after him as he left the room. Was I meant to fix it? Or make sure no bugs interfered with normal operations?
I had no way of knowing the answers to these questions, so I sat down at the desk and began to go through the version history. The git history alone was a mess. The number of times you can tell someone had clearly pushed garbage to master was obvious at first glance. Well not exactly, because it was too many to count, but it was shocking.
'Ok,' I thought, 'let's begin with what code we currently have.' Big mistake. I got a headache just looking at it. There were sections of code with no comments at all, and every line was a long string of function calls with the intent of the line well obfuscated in that mess of calls. Other sections had comments on every line with every line being a painstakingly slow process of continuing a single thought, but no comment as to what the hell the function was meant to do. Everything else was a splattering of bad habit coding in between with some modules having comments like, "//Do not touch this method. It's purpose is unknown, but changing even a single string literal sends the entire application to hell," or, "//Will comment this section after my lunch break," and other similar nonsense.
I figured I had my work cut out for me. I would be the intern to finally fix this software. I began slowly. Over the next few weeks I had familiarized myself with the code and felt confident that I can start making some real and meaningful changes. I started with something simple. I would add some threading to the app. That should make it run a drop faster.
I surrounded the calls to the services that would change inventory numbers in their own threads and then a call to run them. I was really excited to test this. I pushed my code and... Oh my God! I pushed to master!?!
How can I be so careless?
Suddenly my phone rang with an angry sales rep being unable to complete an order. I panicked.
I had to figure out where the problem was. I started adding lines of useless Debug code. I was vaguely aware that I haven't commented anything I was doing as I tried testing this again and again. All the while my phone was ringing with angry sales reps on the other end. My mentor was standing over me now with a knowing grin on his face as I sweated away at my problem. Finally after two hours I had it working again with my fickle optimization which had so many bug fixes that it seemed to counteract whatever was gained. The mess had no comments other then the one I added when I started, "//attempting to optimize code by placing third party application call in new thread." I put my face in my hands and began to cry.
My mentor put his hand on my shoulder and said, "Welcome to the real world. It's not all as rosy as they told you it would be, now. Is it?" | The entire Ephedo star system was a Terran military black site, so the fact that they let interns fiddle with the teleportation field was a little astonishing. He had been on an 8 year journey to the site and the moment he got off the ship he checked his account. The credits had been deposited.
The office was a mess of soda cans and little stuffed dolls: baby versions of a human movie character. Humphrey cleared away the crumbs, sat down, and connected to the AI, Lanshasa.
"Hello, Lanshasa, you may call me Humphrey."
*Oh praise the maker,* Lanshasa said into his mind. *Someone other than those humans. You're here to fix the teleportation field, I assume?*
"Yes, ma'am. Hopefully." Humphrey gently opened Lanshasa's matrix. It was a tangled mess of code and comments. Some code had been commented out, and - Humphrey detected - some deleted. He had to figure out why it was turning on and off at random intervals before any more damage could be done. | |
[WP] The code had been maintained solely by generations of summer interns. It was the worst mess he had ever seen. | My mentor buried his head in his hands and sighed a long heavy lament about the code I was meant to maintain.
"Well," he began, "at least I won't be the one who has to work on this. Good luck."
"Wait, but what am I supposed to be doing?"
"Beats me," he grinned. "No one seems to know how or why it works, but it is the code for our inventory and shipment tracking system."
I stared after him as he left the room. Was I meant to fix it? Or make sure no bugs interfered with normal operations?
I had no way of knowing the answers to these questions, so I sat down at the desk and began to go through the version history. The git history alone was a mess. The number of times you can tell someone had clearly pushed garbage to master was obvious at first glance. Well not exactly, because it was too many to count, but it was shocking.
'Ok,' I thought, 'let's begin with what code we currently have.' Big mistake. I got a headache just looking at it. There were sections of code with no comments at all, and every line was a long string of function calls with the intent of the line well obfuscated in that mess of calls. Other sections had comments on every line with every line being a painstakingly slow process of continuing a single thought, but no comment as to what the hell the function was meant to do. Everything else was a splattering of bad habit coding in between with some modules having comments like, "//Do not touch this method. It's purpose is unknown, but changing even a single string literal sends the entire application to hell," or, "//Will comment this section after my lunch break," and other similar nonsense.
I figured I had my work cut out for me. I would be the intern to finally fix this software. I began slowly. Over the next few weeks I had familiarized myself with the code and felt confident that I can start making some real and meaningful changes. I started with something simple. I would add some threading to the app. That should make it run a drop faster.
I surrounded the calls to the services that would change inventory numbers in their own threads and then a call to run them. I was really excited to test this. I pushed my code and... Oh my God! I pushed to master!?!
How can I be so careless?
Suddenly my phone rang with an angry sales rep being unable to complete an order. I panicked.
I had to figure out where the problem was. I started adding lines of useless Debug code. I was vaguely aware that I haven't commented anything I was doing as I tried testing this again and again. All the while my phone was ringing with angry sales reps on the other end. My mentor was standing over me now with a knowing grin on his face as I sweated away at my problem. Finally after two hours I had it working again with my fickle optimization which had so many bug fixes that it seemed to counteract whatever was gained. The mess had no comments other then the one I added when I started, "//attempting to optimize code by placing third party application call in new thread." I put my face in my hands and began to cry.
My mentor put his hand on my shoulder and said, "Welcome to the real world. It's not all as rosy as they told you it would be, now. Is it?" | They should understand.
Or they should have, after the first experiment gone wrong.
There are very good reasons for the debug step to be part of the process, but what could an intern do, without the knowledge and experience of an experienced programmer or engineer, in front of some of... this? Not only common mistakes, but some old tricks making a comeback, or even sabotage or hacking. And after the first failure, the pointing fingers game was on.
Not the "hire someone capable", no, that is not a game, not a fun one at least.
And who wants to have a boring game in the station? Why should a boring game exists outside training, in Earth, before the present moment? After all, they were supposed to sleep the whole time from Earth to Mars, and she was awake.
She looked at the others: six people in total, no one in the same state than her. All of them inside their locked sleeping capsules, looking at each other, with differed emotions. Fear. Resignation. Panic. Hope. The hopeful one was looking at a male member of the crew, the only one who could move his hands. And she, looking at her looking at him, began to feel the smallest hint of hope, when she saw him reaching for something inside a panel.
The capsules could not be opened fron the inside.
But maybe, just maybe, he found some kind of trick to open it and inform of the problem, or even fix it so they all could back to sleep, instead of spending four months in space, starving and looking at each other die inside their capsules...
He had a sharp and thin piece of metal in his hand.
When he plunged it in his skull, she knew he was the luckiest one in the spaceship.
(Non native here, my apologies for any mistakes) | |
[WP] People just... break up sometimes. There's no dramatic cheating or hidden crime, no clear hero or villain, and it's nobody's fault. Nobody ever writes about that. Write that. | I knew it was over when the nightmares wouldn’t stop.
I was standing on the balcony of a hotel in Hawaii, watching the families play on the beach, mesmerized by the surf breaking on the sand. A giant wave appeared on the horizon. It grew and grew until it blocked out the sun and when it slammed into the land, it wiped out everything in its path.
I would shoot up out of bed, temporarily slowed by our limbs tangled together and run to the bathroom to throw up from terror and wipe the sweat from my pale face. I wouldn’t go back to sleep after that. I would stay up watching those home shopping channels or re-reading old books until the sun rose.
You never stirred.
That was when I realized the tether that tied us had somehow snapped.
Nothing dramatic happened. No one cheated. You never hit me. We could stay together, but if we did, I would just be waiting on the balcony for the rest of my life. Holding my breath until the wave slammed into me and destroyed everything. Or worse, holding my breath until I woke up one day and realized my whole life had gone by, without that unyielding bond we both deserved.
We both should be with someone who would wake up when we are sick in the middle of the night. It was clear you weren’t that person anymore.
And that’s ok. | [Poem].
Edit. Formatting ruined this sadly. Oh well.
Do you remember?
When, as a child, in the silent night
Prowling up the stairs from some forbidden quest.
Your feet reached out and *gasp*
There was no step at all.
A clutch of muscle, a thump, a half arrested fall
But then solid ground,
Safety
Home here after all.
Do you remember?
When, as dreamers, in the spring midday
Trawling through our chosen town, life set out to lay.
Our hands reached out and *gasp*
There was our house for all.
A clutch of muscle, a thump, a half arrested fall.
But then solid ground
Safety
Home here after all.
Do you remember?
When, as adults, in the autumn eve
We sneaked away from mirrors, and cleared away the eaves
Our hands reached out and *gasp*
There was no love at all
A clutch of muscle, a thump, a half arrested fall.
But then solid ground?
Safety?
Home here after all? | |
[WP] People just... break up sometimes. There's no dramatic cheating or hidden crime, no clear hero or villain, and it's nobody's fault. Nobody ever writes about that. Write that. | The moment I realised I loved him, it was like the last piece of a puzzle being snapped into place.
You see, love is not a thing that happens with a snap of a finger. love happens gradually, like a thick layer of clouds rolling over lush green hills. You feel your affection for them grow little by little, day by day until your whole being is consumed by it. They rule your thoughts, your actions, your words - they become the ulterior motive for your entire being. In your eyes they can do no wrong, and for them there is no sin that cannot be forgiven
But love is also something that disappears gradually. The days drag on, and you find yourself and them arguing more often, over the little, insignificant things. You find yourself wondering why you even put up with it in the first place, unable to see the lush meadows of love through the thick thunderclouds that now encompass your relationship. The stars in your lovers eyes become painted paper cutouts, and the quirks you once admired become inexcusable annoyances.
You and your lover become You and your acquaintance, and it is no ones fault. Neither of you can be blamed for the ending of the relationship. It was something that happened naturally. The seasons passed on, and so did your desire to be in a relationship with eachother. And sometimes, that’s just the way it is. | [Poem].
Edit. Formatting ruined this sadly. Oh well.
Do you remember?
When, as a child, in the silent night
Prowling up the stairs from some forbidden quest.
Your feet reached out and *gasp*
There was no step at all.
A clutch of muscle, a thump, a half arrested fall
But then solid ground,
Safety
Home here after all.
Do you remember?
When, as dreamers, in the spring midday
Trawling through our chosen town, life set out to lay.
Our hands reached out and *gasp*
There was our house for all.
A clutch of muscle, a thump, a half arrested fall.
But then solid ground
Safety
Home here after all.
Do you remember?
When, as adults, in the autumn eve
We sneaked away from mirrors, and cleared away the eaves
Our hands reached out and *gasp*
There was no love at all
A clutch of muscle, a thump, a half arrested fall.
But then solid ground?
Safety?
Home here after all? | |
[WP] People just... break up sometimes. There's no dramatic cheating or hidden crime, no clear hero or villain, and it's nobody's fault. Nobody ever writes about that. Write that. | The moment I realised I loved him, it was like the last piece of a puzzle being snapped into place.
You see, love is not a thing that happens with a snap of a finger. love happens gradually, like a thick layer of clouds rolling over lush green hills. You feel your affection for them grow little by little, day by day until your whole being is consumed by it. They rule your thoughts, your actions, your words - they become the ulterior motive for your entire being. In your eyes they can do no wrong, and for them there is no sin that cannot be forgiven
But love is also something that disappears gradually. The days drag on, and you find yourself and them arguing more often, over the little, insignificant things. You find yourself wondering why you even put up with it in the first place, unable to see the lush meadows of love through the thick thunderclouds that now encompass your relationship. The stars in your lovers eyes become painted paper cutouts, and the quirks you once admired become inexcusable annoyances.
You and your lover become You and your acquaintance, and it is no ones fault. Neither of you can be blamed for the ending of the relationship. It was something that happened naturally. The seasons passed on, and so did your desire to be in a relationship with eachother. And sometimes, that’s just the way it is. | Maryanne and Franklin sit across from one another, the respective dinners are mostly finished. The candle on the table flickers lightly. Their hands cup one another, but it seems dispassionate.
"Well, Maryanne? Is the proposal to your liking?" Franklin forces a smile.
"The proposal is perfectly fine, Franklin, though I am afraid I must decline." She releases his hand and returns her own to her side. A ring sits on the table where their hands were. "I do not believe that this is the appropriate time for you and I to wed." She also forces a smile.
"Very well, Maryanne. May I please inquire as to why? Please note I am not attempting to sway your decision, simply to understand it." Franklin responds coolly. "We have been in a relationship for the usual requisite amount of time for a marriage proposal to be accepted. Are there shortcomings on my part which I can attempt to correct for any future partners?"
"Franklin, I have found no shortcomings on your part, they are solely on my part. I do not, at present, view myself to be a partner who can dedicate themselves to the relationship on the level a marriage would require.". She takes another bite of her dinner and a sip of her water. She sits up straight, and dabs at the sides of her mouth. "Franklin, while I am still very fond of you,I simply feel that you are not my ideal husband."
"Maryanne, may I make a confession?" Franklin's face has returned to his usual monotonous tone, the false smile disappearing.
"Please do, we have earned as much from one another these years." Maryanne's voice and tone are as coldly logical as ever.
"Maryanne, I was not sure if I truly desired an affirmative answer to the proposal. I felt pressured by society and our families to make the offer without it being truly my ultimate desire. I echo your sentiments that I do care for you greatly, but do not feel that we are as compatible as would be ideal for a marriage. Please forgive my moment of weakness in being swayed."
"Forgiveness and understanding is mine to give, Franklin. And may I also add that I believe we should also dissolve our romantic ties in order to pursue more appealing partners. Though, as your sexual prowess is more than adequate I would like to maintain a sexual relationship without and romantic ties, if that would be satisfactory to you."
"I feel that arrangement would be mutually beneficial to the two of us. You are physically and sexually my ideal for the time being, and as such, having a source of gratification in that respect would be also ideal until we find other, more suitable partners. Thank you for the forgiveness and understanding. As this is likely to be our final meal as a romantic couple, I would like to extend an offer to pay for the evening in full."
Maryanne's smile is slight but genuine this time. "Franklin your kindness extends even when most others would not. I thank you for that, and accept.". She returns to her meal.
As the meal comes to a close the two share a brief hug and exchange pleasantries before departing.
Another couple sitting at the table closest to theirs glance back and forth at each other as the busboy clears the vacant table. "Baby. What the hell just happened?" The man asks his wife.
"David, I'm pretty sure we just watched two MeK end their relationship. I mean, I've heard they can imitate human bonds and relationships, but I didn't know they were quite so advanced in their imitation."
"Advanced? Deena, I've seen a plate of cookies with more passion than those two MeKs. Do you think it's some kind of prank show?"
The two humans watch the MeKs part ways outside and load into charge carriers to go back to wherever they came from.
David turns to Deena with a grin on his face. "Babe... They said they have sex. What do you think that looks like? Two emotionless robots clanging their groins together repeatedly?" He laughs heartily until Deena responds.
"So not much more different than when you're flopping around on top of me, then?". Deena roars in laughter as her husband spits out his drink and starts coughing. | |
[WP] People just... break up sometimes. There's no dramatic cheating or hidden crime, no clear hero or villain, and it's nobody's fault. Nobody ever writes about that. Write that. | I knew it was over when the nightmares wouldn’t stop.
I was standing on the balcony of a hotel in Hawaii, watching the families play on the beach, mesmerized by the surf breaking on the sand. A giant wave appeared on the horizon. It grew and grew until it blocked out the sun and when it slammed into the land, it wiped out everything in its path.
I would shoot up out of bed, temporarily slowed by our limbs tangled together and run to the bathroom to throw up from terror and wipe the sweat from my pale face. I wouldn’t go back to sleep after that. I would stay up watching those home shopping channels or re-reading old books until the sun rose.
You never stirred.
That was when I realized the tether that tied us had somehow snapped.
Nothing dramatic happened. No one cheated. You never hit me. We could stay together, but if we did, I would just be waiting on the balcony for the rest of my life. Holding my breath until the wave slammed into me and destroyed everything. Or worse, holding my breath until I woke up one day and realized my whole life had gone by, without that unyielding bond we both deserved.
We both should be with someone who would wake up when we are sick in the middle of the night. It was clear you weren’t that person anymore.
And that’s ok. | "There isn't necessarily a right or wrong"
"There is some times, you can't say every time you disagree with me. At least try to see things from my view, I'm right sometimes."
"I do try to see things from your perspective, every time, even when I'm upset."
"I know... And I appreciate the effort. I just wished you did something? Like I know you try but the result is always the same. You're too stubborn."
"...I am. And that's why our different values won't work out in the long run."
"What's so different? What values are so drastic that they don't change over time? You've said I'm too negative and so I've changed. I'm trying!"
"Will you ever get to the point where you really want to have kids?"
"No. But I'm willing to have them with you. Isn't that enough of a compromise? People will always be different from each other and what keeps them together is the love between them. I'm fine if you say you fell out of love with me. But this feels...it feels like a wasted opportunity"
"Some differences are too much to reconcile. I love you, but I don't want you to blame me later in life for changing the way you live or resenting me for having children you don't want."
"You sure you won't change your mind? "
"...No."
"You're too stubborn. I wish you can change...But I can't so I don't know what to say."
"Can we still be friends? "
"Fuck no."
"Wha-what?! But you're still friends with your other exes."
"Yea. But we agreed together, you're just one sidedly breaking up cause you think we won't last in the future. Won't you reconsider? Or give some time? "
"No, I already think we will break up eventually, so I can't date you if there's no future."
"Can't you enjoy it while it lasts? We can date until time is up. I love you, you love me, we may as well make the most of it."
"That's too complicated, won't you think there is a chance for us to stay together? "
"Well, not anymore. Give it some thought"
"What would we even be? Broken up but seeing each other? "
"Casually dating? Would that make you feel better about it "
"What?"
"You know, if you're playing to win, you're serious. If you're playing for the enjoyment of playing and not winning, it's casual."
"...I need to talk to someone. This is too complicated."
"Life is complicated. I love you though."
"Don't say that. You'll make things harder."
"It's true. Now you need to go, think about it and find me if you are willing to try. I love you"
"...I love you too" | |
[WP] People just... break up sometimes. There's no dramatic cheating or hidden crime, no clear hero or villain, and it's nobody's fault. Nobody ever writes about that. Write that. | The moment I realised I loved him, it was like the last piece of a puzzle being snapped into place.
You see, love is not a thing that happens with a snap of a finger. love happens gradually, like a thick layer of clouds rolling over lush green hills. You feel your affection for them grow little by little, day by day until your whole being is consumed by it. They rule your thoughts, your actions, your words - they become the ulterior motive for your entire being. In your eyes they can do no wrong, and for them there is no sin that cannot be forgiven
But love is also something that disappears gradually. The days drag on, and you find yourself and them arguing more often, over the little, insignificant things. You find yourself wondering why you even put up with it in the first place, unable to see the lush meadows of love through the thick thunderclouds that now encompass your relationship. The stars in your lovers eyes become painted paper cutouts, and the quirks you once admired become inexcusable annoyances.
You and your lover become You and your acquaintance, and it is no ones fault. Neither of you can be blamed for the ending of the relationship. It was something that happened naturally. The seasons passed on, and so did your desire to be in a relationship with eachother. And sometimes, that’s just the way it is. | "There isn't necessarily a right or wrong"
"There is some times, you can't say every time you disagree with me. At least try to see things from my view, I'm right sometimes."
"I do try to see things from your perspective, every time, even when I'm upset."
"I know... And I appreciate the effort. I just wished you did something? Like I know you try but the result is always the same. You're too stubborn."
"...I am. And that's why our different values won't work out in the long run."
"What's so different? What values are so drastic that they don't change over time? You've said I'm too negative and so I've changed. I'm trying!"
"Will you ever get to the point where you really want to have kids?"
"No. But I'm willing to have them with you. Isn't that enough of a compromise? People will always be different from each other and what keeps them together is the love between them. I'm fine if you say you fell out of love with me. But this feels...it feels like a wasted opportunity"
"Some differences are too much to reconcile. I love you, but I don't want you to blame me later in life for changing the way you live or resenting me for having children you don't want."
"You sure you won't change your mind? "
"...No."
"You're too stubborn. I wish you can change...But I can't so I don't know what to say."
"Can we still be friends? "
"Fuck no."
"Wha-what?! But you're still friends with your other exes."
"Yea. But we agreed together, you're just one sidedly breaking up cause you think we won't last in the future. Won't you reconsider? Or give some time? "
"No, I already think we will break up eventually, so I can't date you if there's no future."
"Can't you enjoy it while it lasts? We can date until time is up. I love you, you love me, we may as well make the most of it."
"That's too complicated, won't you think there is a chance for us to stay together? "
"Well, not anymore. Give it some thought"
"What would we even be? Broken up but seeing each other? "
"Casually dating? Would that make you feel better about it "
"What?"
"You know, if you're playing to win, you're serious. If you're playing for the enjoyment of playing and not winning, it's casual."
"...I need to talk to someone. This is too complicated."
"Life is complicated. I love you though."
"Don't say that. You'll make things harder."
"It's true. Now you need to go, think about it and find me if you are willing to try. I love you"
"...I love you too" | |
[WP] People just... break up sometimes. There's no dramatic cheating or hidden crime, no clear hero or villain, and it's nobody's fault. Nobody ever writes about that. Write that. | The moment I realised I loved him, it was like the last piece of a puzzle being snapped into place.
You see, love is not a thing that happens with a snap of a finger. love happens gradually, like a thick layer of clouds rolling over lush green hills. You feel your affection for them grow little by little, day by day until your whole being is consumed by it. They rule your thoughts, your actions, your words - they become the ulterior motive for your entire being. In your eyes they can do no wrong, and for them there is no sin that cannot be forgiven
But love is also something that disappears gradually. The days drag on, and you find yourself and them arguing more often, over the little, insignificant things. You find yourself wondering why you even put up with it in the first place, unable to see the lush meadows of love through the thick thunderclouds that now encompass your relationship. The stars in your lovers eyes become painted paper cutouts, and the quirks you once admired become inexcusable annoyances.
You and your lover become You and your acquaintance, and it is no ones fault. Neither of you can be blamed for the ending of the relationship. It was something that happened naturally. The seasons passed on, and so did your desire to be in a relationship with eachother. And sometimes, that’s just the way it is. | I knew it was over when the nightmares wouldn’t stop.
I was standing on the balcony of a hotel in Hawaii, watching the families play on the beach, mesmerized by the surf breaking on the sand. A giant wave appeared on the horizon. It grew and grew until it blocked out the sun and when it slammed into the land, it wiped out everything in its path.
I would shoot up out of bed, temporarily slowed by our limbs tangled together and run to the bathroom to throw up from terror and wipe the sweat from my pale face. I wouldn’t go back to sleep after that. I would stay up watching those home shopping channels or re-reading old books until the sun rose.
You never stirred.
That was when I realized the tether that tied us had somehow snapped.
Nothing dramatic happened. No one cheated. You never hit me. We could stay together, but if we did, I would just be waiting on the balcony for the rest of my life. Holding my breath until the wave slammed into me and destroyed everything. Or worse, holding my breath until I woke up one day and realized my whole life had gone by, without that unyielding bond we both deserved.
We both should be with someone who would wake up when we are sick in the middle of the night. It was clear you weren’t that person anymore.
And that’s ok. | |
[WP] After a long and arduous adventure, you stand before the Villain atop his throne. "You have finally arrived," he says, "Now get on my knee." "Did you mean 'get on your knees'?" "No." | Five years. Five long years I'd traveled this land under the starred banner, sneaking past imperial checkpoints and aiding in the liberation of the provinces. Finally I was here, with a squad of my most trusted agents, standing before the Emperor's throne room in his final stronghold. His chancellor was dead, his die-hard generals had either been captured or killed, and his former allies, both military and political, had turned on him. It was just a matter of removing the head of the serpent to properly bring about the change we wanted for this land. Ideally we'd detain him so he could be properly tried, but killing him would also serve the rebellion.
I pried the door open. The heavy wood scraped against the floor and the iron hinges creaked, until I could push through. Inside... I'm not sure what I was expecting. Maybe an ambush, or at least a fierce man in regalia standing before a great window that looked over his former realm. I certainly wasn't expecting a frail old man who seemed to be actively withering away in his throne.
"Eh? Jeffrey, is that you? About time you came to visit," the aged emperor asked. My agents looked as confused as I felt. Imperial prince Jeffrey had been executed on the chancellor's orders for conspiring against the empire. Not without cause, he'd been secretly backing the rebellion, though his execution was arguably instrumental to our victory since the apparently naked power grab swayed the public against the chancellor. It was quite strange indeed that the emperor seemed to think his son was still alive.
"No, Emperor. I am Kenneth of Pliston," I said, preparing my pistol.
"What was that, son? Come, sit on my knee, for old times' sake..." the old man said.
"What? No, we've come to claim your crown in the name of the Shining rebellion," I said. Clarence, one of my agents, tapped on my shoulder and gestured for me to approach the emperor. While this did seem like a ludicrous plan, the rebellion was nearly done anyway and I was hardly instrumental to it, so the risk of it being a trap was actually quite minor. I walked over to the old man. However, I was careful to place my weight on the throne since I'd probably have snapped his femur if I'd sat as he'd asked me to, and carrying him out by hand would be a massive pain.
"Ah, you've grown into quite the sturdy young man, Jeffrey. Has your mother been well?" he asked. She'd also been executed, at the orders of the emperor himself almost ten years ago. He'd thought she was conspiring against him as well, though that one was unjustified as far as I was aware and was probably part of the reason Jeffrey joined the rebellion.
"She's... fine," I said. Though I thoroughly despised the emperor in theory, I didn't exactly want to set a precedent for just executing people we didn't like.
"Good, good... Is your brother still in the academy? It feels like he's been training there for almost a decade," the emperor said.
"He got through with commendations," I said. This one was actually true, Micheal had done well and been spared, because the chancellor thought he'd be in his pocket. It went without saying that Micheal was much better at hiding his affiliation with the rebellion, the bureaucrat hadn't realized he was part of it until the young man had pointed a gun at him.
"Very good. Jeffrey, can you help me to the window? These legs of mine aren't as spry as they used to be," he said. I placed his arm over my shoulders and half-carried him toward one of the windows by the side of the room.
My agents stood aside. Even through the starred bandannas they wore over their faces, I could see pity for the old man. Admittedly, even I had some trouble connecting the man I was carrying to the tyrant who'd ordered my home town burned.
"Do you see it, son? This whole empire's going to be yours..." he said. The sight we were looking out on was the capital, and in the distance I could see a few outposts. All of them bore the starred flags of the rebellion, because we'd already captured them, but the graying of the man's eyes made it clear enough that he probably couldn't see well enough to realize it.
"The doctor doesn't know how long I have left, so here..." the man said, taking the crown off his head and placing it in my hand. "I'm sure you'll be a ruler for the ages, Jeffrey. Try not to forget your old man, okay? I'll just stay here for a while, so I can see the sun set one last time..."
I backed away from the man, carrying the crown. For a moment, I raised up my gun, pointing it at the back of the old man's head, but I couldn't bring myself to pull the trigger.
"Let's go," I said, waving for my agents to follow me as I left. They followed without issue, and we returned to the rebellion headquarters to give our accounts of what happened and pass the crown to the only surviving imperial prince.
Our superiors had been less than thrilled about the results, as they'd wanted to start off the new reign by putting the previous heads of state to trial for their crimes to show the magnanimity of the new emperor. However, by the time a cleanup crew went in to "properly" detain the emperor, he lay dead from heart failure on the floor of the throne room. Such is life, I suppose. | "You want me... To sit on your knee?"
"Hells yeah!"
For those just joining this story, you may understand that there is some absurdity in this exchange, but I doubt you quite understand the degree of absurdity.
The first speaker is our hero, Oreh Tsinogatorp. Born of the seventh son of a seventh son on the seventh day of the seventh month of the seventh year since the seventh planet made it's seventh orbit since the seventh God declared seven to be a magical number, Oreh had been expected since birth to be the chosen one, who would rid the world of evil. Through almost a decade of adventure, he had managed to reforge the legendary blade of "Legendblade," all while avoiding or defeating the treacherous forces of the second speaker.
The second speaker was Voldemort Hitler. He was a very bad man. As a young child, he had indicated to his parents that his favorite hobbies were torture and enslavement.....
And now I'm bored with this. His knee had a spring loaded knife in it btw. | |
[WP] Demons are willing to be more lenient on the price of power when negotiating with those who wants something evil. The worse it is, the better chance they wind up in hell. You wanted the power to add the lifespan of whatever you kill to your own. Nobody expected you to use it on bugs after all. | I don't want to live forever.
Not really.
But I'd like the option.
I searched the catacombs for decades before I found your name, hidden amongst the diagrams painted on flesh bound diaries. It took me several years longer to sufficiently decode said diagrams and extract the truth from the lies. But now I have.
The goat's blood smells awful, but it can not be substituted. Not for what I want. I dip the brush in the bucket and get to work. Each line, each squiggle, each esoteric sigil must be exact, perfect, above reproach.
It takes about six hours to complete it. My knees throb and my back aches, but as I stand and look upon my work I am proud. The bucket is nearly empty, but there's enough left to douse my lips. I take a deep breath and center my self. The incantation appears before my mind's eye in glowing silvery script. I start to read, each sound clearly crossing my lips, the words sliding across my tongue as they spilled into the aether.
At first there is silence. It seeps out from the center, where I inscribed your name with the first dip of the brush. It thickens, gathers form, and you are here. You slither around, testing the boundaries I set, probing for faults you can slip through. I see the frustration rising in your whip like movements, finding nothing for your tendrils to take hold of and pry apart. My work is perfect.
*What do you want, clever little slut?* Your voice feels like whispering thunder running over my body.
"Options," I reply. "I like options, and I want more."
You huff in what I assume is snide amusement. *I can grant you the world, little girl. Every desire you've ever had, even those you never knew you had. For a price, I will make you whatever you want to be.* You smile. Not with your mouth, you don't have one that I can recognize as such, but I sense it just the same. Clever beast, you assume too much.
"Whatever I want, eh?" I think carefully, parsing words together and cutting them apart until I am confident in their structure. You like structure, clever beast. You crave it though you don't know it. You cannot exist without it. You serve no purpose but to oppose it. Poor beast.
"For every life I end, I desire to have the remainder of their potential lifespan added to my own." My heart is is shuddering violently inside my chest but my voice is steady. I have searched so long for this moment, it feels almost surreal to have finally spoken the words.
You laugh, delighted. *My girl, you have surprised me,* you boom across my skin. *A simple request, but what cost are you prepared to pay? A soul is no small thing, its debt is quite large.* You pause, as if considering a sudden thought *I could, perhaps, transfer that debt to you for payment... yes.... I could do that. Little girl, I will grant your request provided that you agree to carry the soul debt of each life you take.* Your silence is expectant.
"What is soul debt?" I ask, though I already know, clever beast.
*It is the debt owed to me for every murder perpetrated against your fellow man." If you had eyes, they would be gleaming. Your smugness is expected.
I take a deep breath, giving you the show you so cravenly desire. I allow my voice to crack. Not much, just a little bit. Just enough to feed you. "Is there anything else? Any way other than..." I trail off.
*I am owed what I am owed. Take it or leave it, the debt will be paid.*
"Fine. I accept your terms."
I feel something click in my head.
*Congratulations. Your soul is mine, little slut.*
"Not yet, clever beast. And probably not ever, but I appreciate the warning."
Your confusion is beautiful. You don't see it. You are too busy thinking you have the upper hand. Poor beast.
"I cheated. I'm sorry, but it had to be done. I'm sure you understand." I smile at you, waiting.
It takes a while. Your silence swirls and lashes in your cage. I think I see the moment it hits, but I am unable to say why or how. You are angry at first, but your silence stays unbroken. Then you begin to laugh. *You clever little bitch. My brothers will not be happy with you. You have robbed us all, for now.* You begin to fade, returning to your own dimension now that the bargain has been struck and understood. *They will come for you. All the days of your life, long as it may be, they will hunt for you. You will reap what you sow, little bitch.*
And with that, you're gone.
I sit for a long while, going over what I know. The brothers are nine in number, each given purview of certain areas of life. The Lord of Insects will be the first to come, this I know. But my debt does not belong to him. It belongs to his brother. His brother, who cannot collect it. I laugh, long and loud.
Demon politics are murky, to say the least, but they cling to their structures like napalm to skin. Poor beasts. | \[warning: violent content\]
Zeus was a vengeful bastard.
When Prometheus gave mankind the gift of fire, Zeus sent them Pandora. Eventually, she opened the jar from which evils flew over the Earth. Hope alone remained inside the jar, when Pandora closed the lid.
But when you knowingly mix cheap liquor in Cocktail #14 instead of L’esprit de Courvoisier, there is no hope for you. Not if you are a bartender working at The Cave Club Cocktail Club, ran by Marcel D’mond.
Marcel D’mond is a vengeful bastard.
“Repeat after me.” Marcel cracks his knuckles, warm blood still dripping down his fist. “Passion fruit, brown sugar, and lime juice and L’esprit de Courvoisier.”
“‘S’n fr…” Lawrence says, his chin pressed against his chest, barely moving as he tries to bob his head and keep himself from falling off the chair.
“I can’t hear you!” Marcel strikes him in the back of the head again. “L’esprit de Courvoisier!”
“Sn…”
Marcel hits him in the back of the head once again, then makes a quick shrug and exhales. For a moment he stares and listens to strapped man’s moans and groans, but then finally leaves the harsh cone of light around the chair Lawrence sits on.
“Paul Masson Brandy Grande Amber VSOP! $13.95, less than $10 wholesale! You mix that crap in *my* cocktails in *my* club!” He runs forward, fist ready to strike again, but stops himself just before he reaches the chair.
“And you think you can get away with it?! You think you can hide it from me!? Do you know who I am!? Do you, you---”
He grabs Lawrence by the lapels of his jacket.
“I am your God! And you are nothing but an ant to me! A tiny-tiny little ant, you little piece of shit. You are---”
He pushes him back, tipping the chair and sending them both to the ground. Marcel grabs one of the chair legs and drags it across the polished concrete of the Cave’s cold basement, toward the far wall containing a 1000 gallon built-in terrarium, lit with yellow lights.
He pulls the chair up, slaps Lawrence, and points toward the terrarium.
There is a miniature jungle behind the glass, completely covered with millions of black ants marching up and down moss-covered branches, wet sticks, and dark leaves.
“You see that?! That’s who you are! You are an ant, Lawrence! A small, insignificant insect. One of a million and I don’t give a shit about you!! I could kill you in an instant and I couldn’t care less about you! You don’t steal from a God!”
He lifts his fist in the air again, ready to strike Lawerence in the face.
I cough.
“Marcel, are we done now?” | |
[WP] Humans finally develop spaceflight, and join the Galactic Federation. You, one of many ambassadors to earth, quickly realise that nobody is taking humanity seriously, just giving terrible advice to see if we are gullible enough to believe it. Unfortunately, all of your colleagues are idiots. | "Explain," stated the President of the Galactic Federation carefully, his three head ridges all changing color indicating he was most displeased.
"This is kinda funny, see the problem is the Zorb," I began.
"The Zorb?" asked the President.
"The most powerful species in the galaxy, armed with their deadly Gloop Ships, Paino Rays, and shields only capable of being breached by Transdimensional torpedos," I said bowing my head as the ridges started to glow.
"Who do not exist, and most of the stuff you've mentioned is gibberish," replied the President, "I'm pretty sure Transdimensional torpedos aren't even possible to build in this universe."
"Yes sir," I said looking back to my colleagues.
"It was hilarious," stated Murk Tack defensively, "How were we supposed to know that they didn't have a sense of humor."
The President sat motionless for several seconds, "Explain the handicap pass."
Gleep Doop cleared his nose horn, "That was me, I thought it would be funny if we gave them a Space Mart shuttle with a handicap pass and told them they had to search the galaxy for a means to upgrade their defenses, lest they be destroyed."
"How did that work," asked the President glaring holes through the diplomat.
"They visited system after system, and everyone felt sorry for them, so they got 1st rate copies of most of the other Federation member's first-tier technologies," I groaned.
"And the war," asked the President.
"I kind of told them that the Union of Pacifists were allies of the Zorb," replied Murk Tack.
"Well, that part was at least funny initially," I said defensively.
"They were genocided," replied the President.
"I said initially," I replied.
"And that angered the ancient Sentinals," replied the President, "Who are, even now, destroying planet after planet in their quest to find Earth, which I might add is cut off from the wormhole network because they detonated a transdimensional torpedo in their only jump point."
"That wasn't funny at all," I agreed. Each Sentinal ship was worth our entire fleet and the dozen or so we'd encountered could only be destroyed by a transdimensional torpedo.
"And the humans are the only race that's ever cracked that egg," stated the President, "Well, that is kinda funny." | He was ten eons old the first time he'd stumbled upon a spaceship from earth. What caught his eye had been the dull steel: slow trajectory, gray coverings, an indication of the mechanisms and beings that lived inside. It should have given him pause, to consider what creatures could house so much power contained so compactly.
But it took him by surprise when he tried to bust it open. He was instantly hooked, quite literally.
He was one of the upcoming fledglings of the Galactic Federation, and so he'd thought, foolishly, that capturing a prize of a random gadget in space would give him some sway and clout. Yet as soon as he'd extended vines and webs from his own ship towards them, they'd abruptly reversed direction, pummeling him with a barrage of what seemed to be explosions and missiles. It hadn't taken long - he was suddenly sucked into some kind of enclosed space within. When he awoke he'd been expecting old garbs and random unsophisticated creatures, was bemoaning himself for falling for their trap. He expected to make a quick escape.
He hadn't expected to catch glimpses of all sorts of gadgets and strange amalgams of tools. There were circular dark orbs pointed towards him, and rectangles from which pictures were broadcasted. He tried destroying things, and screaming, yet in the end he was still just stuck with the remnants of his own broken ship, pummeling against a type of clear barrier that prevented him from touching everything else.
That was how he'd met them, and they had been practically mechanical in the way they analyzed him, put him through tests and inundated him with chemicals just enough to tickle - all without showing a face. Until suddenly the static cracked to life, and they'd used stupid pictures and screens that moved to connect with him. It took a while, but after work they'd suddenly learned his language - more precisely, the interspecies language used in the galactic federation.
Then different chemicals, and a proposition for a... treaty.
He'd agreed, to the whirling machines, and stated an oath that he wouldn't betray them, he'd provide them some information. At this point he wasn't quite so concerned - all they'd shown him was their propensity for sleek things that didn't live.
Their ambassador smiled, though, walking up to the glass, wearing some kind of mask and carrying notes and a clipboard.
And eventually, the ten eon old being captured by a space patrol from earth agreed - to be a kind of messenger, or more like spy. Earth was only developing its wild aspirations, and in order to foster them, in the face of the newly discovered Galactic Federation, they'd seen that the underdog would rather stay that way until the opportune moment.
He'd just shrugged metaphorically, maybe because in the research their great machines and technology had figured out how to provide him with programmed ways of pleasure. He hadn't cared much for the great gods of the Galactic Federation anyway. They were old and soft, and it wouldn't be so hard to remain silent at the expense of his colleagues when the humans officially turned up. | |
[WP] Humans finally develop spaceflight, and join the Galactic Federation. You, one of many ambassadors to earth, quickly realise that nobody is taking humanity seriously, just giving terrible advice to see if we are gullible enough to believe it. Unfortunately, all of your colleagues are idiots. | We had finally done it. On June 24th, 2085, a probe rose on our space elevator and flew out to the far expanses of space. I, the President of Argentina was on board that probe, along with ten other scientists, generals and politicians from across the world, and were sent on a mission that could change the course of humanity.
The plan was simple: we had been invited to the Three Hundredth and Seventy Fourth council of the Galactic Federation to represent humanity. Fortunately, it was being hosted in Alpha Centauri, the only place we could reasonably reach with our faster-than-light probe. The main topic on hand was what would happen to our solar system, and if we could, manage to get better faster-than-light ship designs so we could communicate and trade with other alien species.
​
We took our seats in the council, and all the aliens walked over to us and tried to do what we *think* was a handshake-like thing. One made some weird splordging sounds and then hurriedly pressed a button, then greeted us.
"Hello Earthlings! I represent the X'ranthorians, from the Ms'tringa system. You probably know it as KIC 8462852. Glad to meet you. We have a lot to discuss here, so I'll take you through the basics. Everybody here has a universal translator to communicate with other members of their species. Here's eleven for you." After this, the alien gave us some weird mouth and eye covers that, upon further looking, the other members of the Galactic Federation also had. I put the mouth cover around my mouth, and awkwardly thanked him.
"No problem!", the X'ranthorian replied, fortunately not understanding tones of voice.
An alien went up to the front of the stage and showed a slideshow with strange squiggles on it. I quickly realised that I needed to put on the eye covers, and saw it in English.
"Aiding the development of recently-interstellar species", the slideshow read.
"Welcome, everybody, to the Three Hundredth and Seventy Fourth council of the Galactic Federation. Today, we welcome humans here for the first time!", the alien at the front said.
A loud cheer sounded through the auditorium, and the alien continued.
"For too long these aliens have languished under the oppression of studying history and making art, and only recently have their devotions to science finally paid off. Since they are new to the galactic stage, we will give them a couple pointers on how to develop."
I immediately felt something was wrong: how could history and art possibly be hampering scientific progress? They were completely different things! However, my companions were writing down that statement in their notebook, and were apparently considering putting an end to government-funded museums.
"The first thing that you will need to remember is that while developing, you need to focus all your efforts on one thing, and that one thing is physics. Chemistry, biology and the soft sciences may be noble goals, but they will be useless for you from now on."
My suspicions grew. Why would they say that we should only focus on physics, and not on all the sciences? Yet my friends still didn't catch onto that, so they again wrote it down in their notebooks. I remember muttering to myself that it was a bad idea to bring Trump 2.0 on our mission, but they said that the reincarnation of the first (and now current) Emperor of America was too important to leave behind or something, so now I'm stuck with him. Trust me when I say that the trip to Alpha Centauri was *not* fun with him on board.
"The other thing you need to take into account is that cosmology is useless. Look: it'd be hard to lose track of the stars while going past it. There is no reason why you should study it at all."
It was too great. I had to say something before the Emperor of America inevitably ruined the lives of billions.
"Wait a second. Are you trying to cut our progress or what? What's up? Why are you giving us such bad advice?", I interrupted. The other people brought in this delegation looked at me in horror, as if I had somehow doomed the Earth and her colonies to destruction by questioning the judgement of somebody four light years away.
Yet the alien didn't seem unhappy. He started to... laugh? This didn't make much sense.
"No, no no. You wouldn't understand. This has just been a big joke! We do this with all solar systems to meet us, and humans have been the first people to work it out! Well done!", the alien said.
While I was still beaming with pride and the knowledge that I'd be able to laugh at the idiots who called themselves world leaders all the way home, the X'ranthorian came up to me.
"Don't feel so special," he said, "they say that to everybody to come here. In fact, the other people brought along completely bought it. You're the first species I've seen to have that happen to. You know what? The other ten people you brought along are in no shape to be a sth'rangon's sub-intern, let alone represent an entire solar system. See ya later."
As the Galactic Federation's first council of the day ended, I was left wondering to myself what situation we had found ourselves in. | He was ten eons old the first time he'd stumbled upon a spaceship from earth. What caught his eye had been the dull steel: slow trajectory, gray coverings, an indication of the mechanisms and beings that lived inside. It should have given him pause, to consider what creatures could house so much power contained so compactly.
But it took him by surprise when he tried to bust it open. He was instantly hooked, quite literally.
He was one of the upcoming fledglings of the Galactic Federation, and so he'd thought, foolishly, that capturing a prize of a random gadget in space would give him some sway and clout. Yet as soon as he'd extended vines and webs from his own ship towards them, they'd abruptly reversed direction, pummeling him with a barrage of what seemed to be explosions and missiles. It hadn't taken long - he was suddenly sucked into some kind of enclosed space within. When he awoke he'd been expecting old garbs and random unsophisticated creatures, was bemoaning himself for falling for their trap. He expected to make a quick escape.
He hadn't expected to catch glimpses of all sorts of gadgets and strange amalgams of tools. There were circular dark orbs pointed towards him, and rectangles from which pictures were broadcasted. He tried destroying things, and screaming, yet in the end he was still just stuck with the remnants of his own broken ship, pummeling against a type of clear barrier that prevented him from touching everything else.
That was how he'd met them, and they had been practically mechanical in the way they analyzed him, put him through tests and inundated him with chemicals just enough to tickle - all without showing a face. Until suddenly the static cracked to life, and they'd used stupid pictures and screens that moved to connect with him. It took a while, but after work they'd suddenly learned his language - more precisely, the interspecies language used in the galactic federation.
Then different chemicals, and a proposition for a... treaty.
He'd agreed, to the whirling machines, and stated an oath that he wouldn't betray them, he'd provide them some information. At this point he wasn't quite so concerned - all they'd shown him was their propensity for sleek things that didn't live.
Their ambassador smiled, though, walking up to the glass, wearing some kind of mask and carrying notes and a clipboard.
And eventually, the ten eon old being captured by a space patrol from earth agreed - to be a kind of messenger, or more like spy. Earth was only developing its wild aspirations, and in order to foster them, in the face of the newly discovered Galactic Federation, they'd seen that the underdog would rather stay that way until the opportune moment.
He'd just shrugged metaphorically, maybe because in the research their great machines and technology had figured out how to provide him with programmed ways of pleasure. He hadn't cared much for the great gods of the Galactic Federation anyway. They were old and soft, and it wouldn't be so hard to remain silent at the expense of his colleagues when the humans officially turned up. | |
[WP] Humans finally develop spaceflight, and join the Galactic Federation. You, one of many ambassadors to earth, quickly realise that nobody is taking humanity seriously, just giving terrible advice to see if we are gullible enough to believe it. Unfortunately, all of your colleagues are idiots. | "I'm sorry, tether our moon to the earth???" I couldn't believe the words even came out of my mouth.
"Yeah, the Trembosh ambassador said it stabilized their climate crisis. You just build a huge track around the equator, and run this ultra-high strength liquid metal polymer stuff out into space and basically bolt it to the surface of the moon. See? Here's the images from Tremoshi Prime. They said they can manufacture enough of this polymer for us, and cheaply, too. We can't get our scientists to even understand it, let alone synthesize any of it."
"You know that's not how it works, right?"
"What do you know; you're just an engineer. We all have doctorates."
"In philosophy!!! You idiots only got this assignment because you're related to world leaders!" My brain hurt because of the amount of stupid oozing from this group. I was supposedly the least qualified, and somehow the only ambassador without blood relations to anyone important. Never mind that I held multiple degrees in engineering, architecture, geology, international politics (with a minor in hostage negotiations). Every one of these knuckleheads **bought** their qualifications. They were supposed to represent the best that Earth had to offer, but I seemed to be the only one who could recognize snickers and chuckling from alien species.
Yeah, that's right, more than one. The Trembosh were by far the most animated, and unable to control their emotions. They kind of reminded me of the ancient Earth duo, SpongeBob and Patrick, but shaped more like whales with huge wings and millipede-like feet. They'd lost whatever digits they might have had when they still need to use them to manipulate their environment when they'd mastered telekinesis, and this form, they claimed, was of their own design, genetically engineering themselves by mere thought over eons. But they snickered and guffawed like teenage boys seeing boobies for the first time.
"Why can't you see that they're laughing at us?" I seethed.
"That's just their way of expressing themselves," the Australian prime minister's nephew said, "you have to stop thinking of them as human."
"But none of the things you've negotiated for, either with the Trembosh, the Kulosi, the Minkinarians, or the Baz'kitozh, have yet to pan out!"
"Hey, these are highly sophisticated designs we're getting here!"
"The Minkari 'food replicator' makes fart sounds! On purpose!"
"We're obviously doing something wrong. Our scientists need more time."
"Okay, fine. What about the Baz 'zero-point energy teleportation portal'? IT BLOWS BUBBLES."
"We just haven't figured out how to transverse the membrane, dummy."
"It's a bubble. It's made of soap! IT'S A SOAP ... BUBBLE!!! It even LOOKS like a bubble wand!!!"
"They're an advanced species! We just need to study it more!"
"I washed my personal transport with the residue!"
"And you still owe the United Earth Confederation $100 million for that. That stuff's not cheap to make, you know."
I'd just about had it. My family farm was full of Minkinarian fungi, the spores of which turn most mammals' flesh translucent, down to the bone. I can't tell my neighbors apart; they all look like grade school laboratory skeletal models now. The Tosci's "miracle fuel" might as well be a probability drive, since our ships keep popping up in star systems we've never charted before. The *U.S.S. Gone With the Wind* is still ... well, **gone**. And I was literally the only person who thought dropping vats of human fecal matter onto the Zakselltorbik home planet was not the proper way to show our good will. Their nanotech swarms keep disassembling any Earth cruiser that happens to drop out of slipstream near their territory, and no one believed me when I correctly translated their transmissions as "go f\*ck yourselves with a borked \[sic\] razorbeast".
Every time we enter the Galactic Congress's Great Chamber and do this weird, genuflecting 3 hour dance, which the Kitfarr "claim" is required each time, I can literally feel every sensory organ fixed on us, and every vocalization sounds like chortling to me. I feel like a total idiot every time, but the rest of the mission's staff are treated like golden idols when we return to Earth. I've about had it. | He was ten eons old the first time he'd stumbled upon a spaceship from earth. What caught his eye had been the dull steel: slow trajectory, gray coverings, an indication of the mechanisms and beings that lived inside. It should have given him pause, to consider what creatures could house so much power contained so compactly.
But it took him by surprise when he tried to bust it open. He was instantly hooked, quite literally.
He was one of the upcoming fledglings of the Galactic Federation, and so he'd thought, foolishly, that capturing a prize of a random gadget in space would give him some sway and clout. Yet as soon as he'd extended vines and webs from his own ship towards them, they'd abruptly reversed direction, pummeling him with a barrage of what seemed to be explosions and missiles. It hadn't taken long - he was suddenly sucked into some kind of enclosed space within. When he awoke he'd been expecting old garbs and random unsophisticated creatures, was bemoaning himself for falling for their trap. He expected to make a quick escape.
He hadn't expected to catch glimpses of all sorts of gadgets and strange amalgams of tools. There were circular dark orbs pointed towards him, and rectangles from which pictures were broadcasted. He tried destroying things, and screaming, yet in the end he was still just stuck with the remnants of his own broken ship, pummeling against a type of clear barrier that prevented him from touching everything else.
That was how he'd met them, and they had been practically mechanical in the way they analyzed him, put him through tests and inundated him with chemicals just enough to tickle - all without showing a face. Until suddenly the static cracked to life, and they'd used stupid pictures and screens that moved to connect with him. It took a while, but after work they'd suddenly learned his language - more precisely, the interspecies language used in the galactic federation.
Then different chemicals, and a proposition for a... treaty.
He'd agreed, to the whirling machines, and stated an oath that he wouldn't betray them, he'd provide them some information. At this point he wasn't quite so concerned - all they'd shown him was their propensity for sleek things that didn't live.
Their ambassador smiled, though, walking up to the glass, wearing some kind of mask and carrying notes and a clipboard.
And eventually, the ten eon old being captured by a space patrol from earth agreed - to be a kind of messenger, or more like spy. Earth was only developing its wild aspirations, and in order to foster them, in the face of the newly discovered Galactic Federation, they'd seen that the underdog would rather stay that way until the opportune moment.
He'd just shrugged metaphorically, maybe because in the research their great machines and technology had figured out how to provide him with programmed ways of pleasure. He hadn't cared much for the great gods of the Galactic Federation anyway. They were old and soft, and it wouldn't be so hard to remain silent at the expense of his colleagues when the humans officially turned up. | |
[WP] Humans finally develop spaceflight, and join the Galactic Federation. You, one of many ambassadors to earth, quickly realise that nobody is taking humanity seriously, just giving terrible advice to see if we are gullible enough to believe it. Unfortunately, all of your colleagues are idiots. | "I'm sorry, tether our moon to the earth???" I couldn't believe the words even came out of my mouth.
"Yeah, the Trembosh ambassador said it stabilized their climate crisis. You just build a huge track around the equator, and run this ultra-high strength liquid metal polymer stuff out into space and basically bolt it to the surface of the moon. See? Here's the images from Tremoshi Prime. They said they can manufacture enough of this polymer for us, and cheaply, too. We can't get our scientists to even understand it, let alone synthesize any of it."
"You know that's not how it works, right?"
"What do you know; you're just an engineer. We all have doctorates."
"In philosophy!!! You idiots only got this assignment because you're related to world leaders!" My brain hurt because of the amount of stupid oozing from this group. I was supposedly the least qualified, and somehow the only ambassador without blood relations to anyone important. Never mind that I held multiple degrees in engineering, architecture, geology, international politics (with a minor in hostage negotiations). Every one of these knuckleheads **bought** their qualifications. They were supposed to represent the best that Earth had to offer, but I seemed to be the only one who could recognize snickers and chuckling from alien species.
Yeah, that's right, more than one. The Trembosh were by far the most animated, and unable to control their emotions. They kind of reminded me of the ancient Earth duo, SpongeBob and Patrick, but shaped more like whales with huge wings and millipede-like feet. They'd lost whatever digits they might have had when they still need to use them to manipulate their environment when they'd mastered telekinesis, and this form, they claimed, was of their own design, genetically engineering themselves by mere thought over eons. But they snickered and guffawed like teenage boys seeing boobies for the first time.
"Why can't you see that they're laughing at us?" I seethed.
"That's just their way of expressing themselves," the Australian prime minister's nephew said, "you have to stop thinking of them as human."
"But none of the things you've negotiated for, either with the Trembosh, the Kulosi, the Minkinarians, or the Baz'kitozh, have yet to pan out!"
"Hey, these are highly sophisticated designs we're getting here!"
"The Minkari 'food replicator' makes fart sounds! On purpose!"
"We're obviously doing something wrong. Our scientists need more time."
"Okay, fine. What about the Baz 'zero-point energy teleportation portal'? IT BLOWS BUBBLES."
"We just haven't figured out how to transverse the membrane, dummy."
"It's a bubble. It's made of soap! IT'S A SOAP ... BUBBLE!!! It even LOOKS like a bubble wand!!!"
"They're an advanced species! We just need to study it more!"
"I washed my personal transport with the residue!"
"And you still owe the United Earth Confederation $100 million for that. That stuff's not cheap to make, you know."
I'd just about had it. My family farm was full of Minkinarian fungi, the spores of which turn most mammals' flesh translucent, down to the bone. I can't tell my neighbors apart; they all look like grade school laboratory skeletal models now. The Tosci's "miracle fuel" might as well be a probability drive, since our ships keep popping up in star systems we've never charted before. The *U.S.S. Gone With the Wind* is still ... well, **gone**. And I was literally the only person who thought dropping vats of human fecal matter onto the Zakselltorbik home planet was not the proper way to show our good will. Their nanotech swarms keep disassembling any Earth cruiser that happens to drop out of slipstream near their territory, and no one believed me when I correctly translated their transmissions as "go f\*ck yourselves with a borked \[sic\] razorbeast".
Every time we enter the Galactic Congress's Great Chamber and do this weird, genuflecting 3 hour dance, which the Kitfarr "claim" is required each time, I can literally feel every sensory organ fixed on us, and every vocalization sounds like chortling to me. I feel like a total idiot every time, but the rest of the mission's staff are treated like golden idols when we return to Earth. I've about had it. | We had finally done it. On June 24th, 2085, a probe rose on our space elevator and flew out to the far expanses of space. I, the President of Argentina was on board that probe, along with ten other scientists, generals and politicians from across the world, and were sent on a mission that could change the course of humanity.
The plan was simple: we had been invited to the Three Hundredth and Seventy Fourth council of the Galactic Federation to represent humanity. Fortunately, it was being hosted in Alpha Centauri, the only place we could reasonably reach with our faster-than-light probe. The main topic on hand was what would happen to our solar system, and if we could, manage to get better faster-than-light ship designs so we could communicate and trade with other alien species.
​
We took our seats in the council, and all the aliens walked over to us and tried to do what we *think* was a handshake-like thing. One made some weird splordging sounds and then hurriedly pressed a button, then greeted us.
"Hello Earthlings! I represent the X'ranthorians, from the Ms'tringa system. You probably know it as KIC 8462852. Glad to meet you. We have a lot to discuss here, so I'll take you through the basics. Everybody here has a universal translator to communicate with other members of their species. Here's eleven for you." After this, the alien gave us some weird mouth and eye covers that, upon further looking, the other members of the Galactic Federation also had. I put the mouth cover around my mouth, and awkwardly thanked him.
"No problem!", the X'ranthorian replied, fortunately not understanding tones of voice.
An alien went up to the front of the stage and showed a slideshow with strange squiggles on it. I quickly realised that I needed to put on the eye covers, and saw it in English.
"Aiding the development of recently-interstellar species", the slideshow read.
"Welcome, everybody, to the Three Hundredth and Seventy Fourth council of the Galactic Federation. Today, we welcome humans here for the first time!", the alien at the front said.
A loud cheer sounded through the auditorium, and the alien continued.
"For too long these aliens have languished under the oppression of studying history and making art, and only recently have their devotions to science finally paid off. Since they are new to the galactic stage, we will give them a couple pointers on how to develop."
I immediately felt something was wrong: how could history and art possibly be hampering scientific progress? They were completely different things! However, my companions were writing down that statement in their notebook, and were apparently considering putting an end to government-funded museums.
"The first thing that you will need to remember is that while developing, you need to focus all your efforts on one thing, and that one thing is physics. Chemistry, biology and the soft sciences may be noble goals, but they will be useless for you from now on."
My suspicions grew. Why would they say that we should only focus on physics, and not on all the sciences? Yet my friends still didn't catch onto that, so they again wrote it down in their notebooks. I remember muttering to myself that it was a bad idea to bring Trump 2.0 on our mission, but they said that the reincarnation of the first (and now current) Emperor of America was too important to leave behind or something, so now I'm stuck with him. Trust me when I say that the trip to Alpha Centauri was *not* fun with him on board.
"The other thing you need to take into account is that cosmology is useless. Look: it'd be hard to lose track of the stars while going past it. There is no reason why you should study it at all."
It was too great. I had to say something before the Emperor of America inevitably ruined the lives of billions.
"Wait a second. Are you trying to cut our progress or what? What's up? Why are you giving us such bad advice?", I interrupted. The other people brought in this delegation looked at me in horror, as if I had somehow doomed the Earth and her colonies to destruction by questioning the judgement of somebody four light years away.
Yet the alien didn't seem unhappy. He started to... laugh? This didn't make much sense.
"No, no no. You wouldn't understand. This has just been a big joke! We do this with all solar systems to meet us, and humans have been the first people to work it out! Well done!", the alien said.
While I was still beaming with pride and the knowledge that I'd be able to laugh at the idiots who called themselves world leaders all the way home, the X'ranthorian came up to me.
"Don't feel so special," he said, "they say that to everybody to come here. In fact, the other people brought along completely bought it. You're the first species I've seen to have that happen to. You know what? The other ten people you brought along are in no shape to be a sth'rangon's sub-intern, let alone represent an entire solar system. See ya later."
As the Galactic Federation's first council of the day ended, I was left wondering to myself what situation we had found ourselves in. | |
[WP] Everyone on earth receives a message that asks whether they would rather know when they die or how they die. Once a person replies with their choice, they receive a completely accurate response that consists of their date/cause of death. But suddenly, everyone is getting the same answer. | Today, nothing will kill everyone.
At least, nothing will kill everyone who responded to the message seven days ago and after.
For exactly one hundred years, everyone has had the choice to know when or how they will die. After the first ten or so years, most people accepted that the answer they received was final. Like fate, it was unavoidable, despite our best efforts.
Many people refused to make a choice, but the people who succumbed to morbid curiosity usually chose their date of death. Knowing when they would die helped them make preparations, mental and otherwise, as well as secure their legacy. The few who chose to know their cause of death were much less rational. They tried futilely to avoid their death wherever they went and often went insane from paranoia, dying mentally before they died physically.
Yet when finally there was no more cause of death, it gave them no relief.
Seven days ago, every person who made their choice received the same date or cause. Instead of dates years in the future, all dates were set to today. Instead of car crashes and heart attacks, all causes of death were blank.
The world fell into chaos. Blankers, as they were called, went on killing sprees targeting the Fated, the people who knew their date or cause of death before last week. But nobody died, unless they were fated to. And the rest of the Fated lived on. It was a futile chaos, and despite fanatic claims, nobody truly knew what would happen today any more than they knew the origin of the message that humanity received a century ago.
As the clock finally ticked past midnight in the earliest time zone on Earth, a message was broadcast to everyone, Blankers and Fated alike. And it was something, not nothing, but not nearly everything.
“Your free trial of Death Details Deluxe is over. We hope you enjoyed using our service.”
---
Feedback appreciated! | This is it, this is how we die. All of our collective achievements as humanity during our short time on this blue planet - gone, or will soon be anyway. I've spent most of my life alone - or some version of it - so I suppose going out like this - sharing the same fate as everyone else is comforting in a way; at least I'll finally be part of something big, though honestly, I'd be lying if this is how I imagined my end would come. A cruel joke, played by the universe perhaps? That we are to see the same fate as that of our Pangaean brethren - the dinosaurs; great beasts that roamed the lands before us only to be erased in an instant by a calamity of unimaginable scale. Now, we are to boldly face the same thing. Strangely, as I walk around and look at the people gathered in our urban spheres, I gleam that they are awash with a feeling of calmness and serenity however, I do not share the same peaceful warmth, instead I feel a linger of existential panic as my thoughts zealously head into the future - far into the future.
Will the life-form that evolves from our ashes dig up our fossils millions of years from now to discover that in our final moments as mankind, we chose to honour our sentimentalities and pass away quietly with the people and things we treasured the most. Would they be moved by the billions of stories that came before them? Would they endeavour to uncover all our triumphs and failures; tell their children of our heroic deeds, or caution them with tales of our cruelty to one another? Will we inspire the next inheritors of our planet to reach even further and strive for greater things, or will they be doomed to share the same inescapable fate that came for the lives of those before them? | |
[WP] Everyone on earth receives a message that asks whether they would rather know when they die or how they die. Once a person replies with their choice, they receive a completely accurate response that consists of their date/cause of death. But suddenly, everyone is getting the same answer. | The Watcher was the center of our world, it gave each and every person purpose tailored to them, it led our scientists towards new discoveries, it kept people away from wars, and when you turned 18 it would ask you a single question "Would you like to know when you die or how you die?". The Watcher had operated, guiding humanity for centuries and helping keep stability. It was originally created to help negotiate a treaty to allow for de-escalation in the fourth world war, to protect against the red bombs that would have wiped out all of humanity. Since then, humanity had given it more and more responsibility, and it had allowed the whole of civilization to prosper.
When John awoke on his 18th birthday, he saw in his vision where the Watcher could overlay text "Happy 18th Birthday, John. Would you like to know when you die or how you die?". John dismissed the message, he could answer that later. For the first 17 years of his life, he had always known his answer to be how. But, in the past few months, everyone had been getting the same answers "June 23rd, 2212 by asphyxiation". Now, the text simply brought stress. There was a growing faction of Watchless that believed the Watcher had become broken, and with each passing day their numbers were growing. The Watcher had remained silent on the matter, allowing the Watchless to continue their attacks on the Watcher's competence.
John sat down for breakfast, and was greeted with his favorite birthday tradition, birthday breakfast. Three chocolate chip pancakes, some syrup, and a healthy serving of whipped cream smothering the whole mess.
"Happy Birthday Son!"
It was his mom, who had made his breakfast. At least this part wasn't stressful,
"Thanks mom"
John took a big bite of the stack of pancakes in front of him,
"It's delicious"
"Well, enjoy it. You only turn 18 once you know."
Her eyes darkened a bit, and she sat down at the table with him.
"Have you made a decision?"
Of course. His whole day was going to be about this decision. John shook his head in response,
"Not yet, I'll figure it out later."
"Okay, take your time. Let me know if you want any advice"
"Sure mom."
She stood back up, and started to head out of the door,
"I'm going to work now, but let me know when you make a decision and what it says"
John nodded,
"Okay, talk to you later"
She headed out the door, and John let out a sigh of relief. Left alone with his thoughts he could contemplate the decision in front of him. He brought the text back up, and the glowing green text floated in the center of his vision.
"Happy 18th Birthday, John. Would you like to know when you die or how you die?"
John thought on the question for a bit. Thought about looking at the news for any updates, maybe someone fixed it since yesterday? John didn't want to find out. In the end, he decided to screw it. He made his decision years ago, and he wasn't about to change it. He responded back,
"How."
The text disappeared, and a new message appeared in front of him,
"Saving the world."
John's jaw dropped. He resynced the device, something he hadn't had to do in years. The text disappeared, and reloaded hovering in front of him, unchanged.
The Watcher received innumerable messages a day, most never got a reply. The Watcher was not there to interfere so directly with humanity, so most requests were ignored. Most people had long since realized that The watcher will message you with information, but asking it for information was essentially pointless. Still, John found himself keying into the interconnect and composing a message directly to the Watcher:
"What does 'Saving the world' mean? How am i--"
The interface cleared off, and a new message appeared.
"Please report to Base Station 1 for further instruction."
John tried to dismiss the message, but he couldn't. He tried to switch back to composing his message, but the whole interface was locked. He sat back, in his chair. Pancakes nearly untouched, his appetite had vanished. His brain was swimming with thoughts of what could be going on, but unable to sort through everything with all the information without more. John turned on the TV, to see if anything was on the news. Instead of the news though, the screen simply stated:
"John Colith, Report to Base Station 1"
The Watcher had never done something like this. Forcing someone to take an action was not something it was designed to be able to do, or at least that's what John had always been taught in school. The Watcher was designed to never take away free will in any way. John thought for a moment, and realized that it didn't matter very much if it was possible, the fact is that it was happening and he wasn't being given much of a choice. He walked to his room, feeling exhausted from his thirty minute morning and ready for bed.
Alright, I guess I'm going to have to go to Base Station 1. But, I'll go when I'm good and ready, first I'm gonna take a shower. John stripped, grabbed his towel and headed to the bathroom. Showers always helped him clear his head, although John wasn't too sure how relaxed he could be while the text in front of him continued to beam down on him. He turned the knob, and and the water started pouring out. John got in, and washed himself while thinking. Letting the hot water and the steam relax his entirely tensed up body.
A knock came on the door.
"John Colith?"
A man's voice cut through the sound of the shower. John's heart stopped.
"Yes?"
"We have been sent to protect you and escort you to Base Station 1"
"Uh, okay. I'll be out in a minute."
"Alright sir, we'll wait out here and guard the area."
Did he just call me sir? What the hell is going on? John hurriedly finished cleaning himself off, washing off the excess soap, got out and toweled off. He exited the bathroom to cross the hall to his room, and was greeted with a dozen soldiers in full uniform lining the hallways and watching the windows.
"Hello sir, we've been assigned to protect you and escort you to Base Station 1"
"Thanks, I'll get dressed and we can go I guess"
"Alright sir, we'll continue to guard the area"
John went into his room, and closed the door behind him. Pulling on his jeans, and then a crash struck through his window. A loud bang followed, and everything went wonky. John was on the ground coughing and incapacitated. His door burst open and suddenly the room was wild with gunfire and shouting soldiers. John could feel himself being picked up as everything slowly went black.
When he finally came out of it, he found himself in the back of a van surrounded by soldiers.
"Here you go sir"
A soldier across from him, his nametag read Grant, handed him a canteen. John was still lightheaded and accepted the canteen, drinking the cold water from it, and then splashing some on his face.
"What is going on?"
The soldiers looked around at each other.
"You don't know?"
"I know what my screen says, but I don't know why you are all here and why people were attacking my house. I don't even know what the text on my screen means."
"Sir, we're assigned to protect you and escort you to Base Station 1. The orders came because of the broadcasts on every channel, the Watcher wants you at Base Station 1. And it was feared the Watchless would move against you, which they did. Our orders were given, and then a message appeared to all of us from the Watcher that said 'Protect John Colith at all costs.' Honestly, we were hoping you might have more information."
John sat in silence for a moment, his mind still foggy from whatever it was that hit him in his room. He struggled to reply to the soldier, but the van lurched to a stop before he could. The soldier at the front shouted back,
"We've arrived"
Grant turned back to John and said,
"We're at Base Station 1, do you want us to go in with you?"
John wanted the soldiers to accompany him, but before he could say so the message in front of him changed for the first time,
"Come alone"
John shook his head,
"I think I'm supposed to go alone."
The soldier nodded at him curiously, and opened the door. The sight outside was incredible to behold. Hundreds of soldiers holding back an enormous crowd of people. As John stepped out, the crowd's shouting erupted into complete chaos and the soldier's holding the perimeter held them back roughly.
Grant motioned to John, who had completely stopped moving in awe of the sight.
"This way sir"
Grant led him to the only entryway into Base Station 1, and opened the door in front of him. John entered the the building and Grant let the door close behind him. As it closed John found himself surrounded by darkness and silence. | This is it, this is how we die. All of our collective achievements as humanity during our short time on this blue planet - gone, or will soon be anyway. I've spent most of my life alone - or some version of it - so I suppose going out like this - sharing the same fate as everyone else is comforting in a way; at least I'll finally be part of something big, though honestly, I'd be lying if this is how I imagined my end would come. A cruel joke, played by the universe perhaps? That we are to see the same fate as that of our Pangaean brethren - the dinosaurs; great beasts that roamed the lands before us only to be erased in an instant by a calamity of unimaginable scale. Now, we are to boldly face the same thing. Strangely, as I walk around and look at the people gathered in our urban spheres, I gleam that they are awash with a feeling of calmness and serenity however, I do not share the same peaceful warmth, instead I feel a linger of existential panic as my thoughts zealously head into the future - far into the future.
Will the life-form that evolves from our ashes dig up our fossils millions of years from now to discover that in our final moments as mankind, we chose to honour our sentimentalities and pass away quietly with the people and things we treasured the most. Would they be moved by the billions of stories that came before them? Would they endeavour to uncover all our triumphs and failures; tell their children of our heroic deeds, or caution them with tales of our cruelty to one another? Will we inspire the next inheritors of our planet to reach even further and strive for greater things, or will they be doomed to share the same inescapable fate that came for the lives of those before them? | |
[WP] You have a magic gun that fires EXACTLY what you need, but not necessarily what you THINK you need. It can fire bullets, rockets, arrows, money, bandaids, sharks, rope, a car, or even a 4-course meal. Anything, but until you pull the trigger, you never know exactly what's going to come out. | Charlie walked into the shooting range on his cousin’s birthday mostly against his will. Mostly being largely a misnomer, an inaccuracy and an outright lie. In all honesty and little enough there was of that to go around let alone fill a thimble, Charlie had been forced there. Totally against his will. He stood before the display cases which could have been filled with ornate bongs and copious vape pens of various consistencies, but instead were filled with nylon polymers and carbon steel alloys like chromium molybdenum or perhaps carbon fiber chiseled into spiralic barrels and synthetic grips, rounds sequestered in brass or copper casings. An NRA smorgasbord which he walked into unawares and unexpecting.
The first gun he picked up was a glock and his cousin was like "Hell no put that piece of shit down right now."
Suitably chastened Charlie skulked in the corner until a friendly manager took him under his shoulder.
The man stood halfway between 5 and 6 feet with a wizened mane of grey hair. He gestured towards Charlie and said “Ah yes, Yes. I thought I’d be seeing you soon. Charlie Porter.” Charlie stared at him in utter confusion but the address wasn’t a question.
“It wasn’t long ago your mother was in here herself, buying her first gun. 14 inch barrel. Not much recoil. Low caliber rounds. 9mm. Fired like a whisper, whispered like a nun in prayer. Nice gun for shield penetration. Charm work.”
Mr. Revolvander moved closer to Charlie.
Your father, on the other hand, favored a full bore carbine. 16 inches. Inflexible, yet yielding. Much more power and a decent dash of the arcane. Well, I say your father favored it – it’s really gun that chooses the wizard, of course.”
Mr. Revolvander looked deep into Charlie. Charlie felt appropriately affronted but withstood the onslaught upon his personal space like any decent human should in public but perhaps in retrospect really should not.
All of a sudden Mr. Revolvander’s hand shot out under unknown compulsion to Charlie’s shoulder. The shoulder where the scar sat. The scar that cost him his parents. Cost him love and a normal life. The man sighed heavily with regret.
“Unfortunately, and with the utmost regret and my sincerest apologies I sold the gun which gave you that scar,” he said softly, in a voice heavy with pain and remorse. “16.5 inches. Bullpup system. Israeli made. A most powerful weapon, highly malleable, especially in the wrong hands… if I had known what he intended… I’m sorry Charlie.”
“But in the same instance, many people would argue guns don’t kill people… people do… and I wonder, now -- why, not -- Israeli made, bullpup system, 16.5 inches, proud yet yielding.”
He handed Charlie a gun | My wife, the love of my life, is dead. A sudden car accident, and she was gone. I didn't even get to say goodbye. I sit on my couch, alone. I had cried out everything, and now I was numb. In my empty house, in my empty heart, there was nothing.
I picked up The Gun. So many memories. It was how I met my wife on New Years- streamers and fireworks came from the muzzle then. Now, as I put the barrel against my temple, I was hoping for a bullet. I pulled the trigger.
A huge weight slammed into me, knocking me to the floor. I dropped The Gun as I felt something hot on my face... I wasn't expecting to feel myself bleed to death, but it wouldn't be long now. I closed my eyes and let the heat cover my face. And breathed in.... dog breath?
I opened my eyes. Big, brown eyes looked back at me, from a patchy black and white face. A tongue licked my face again, and I sat up. The pup looked up at me with his bottomless eyes, tilted his head, and I was a goner.
I guess one way to end your life, is to start a new one. | |
[WP] You have a magic gun that fires EXACTLY what you need, but not necessarily what you THINK you need. It can fire bullets, rockets, arrows, money, bandaids, sharks, rope, a car, or even a 4-course meal. Anything, but until you pull the trigger, you never know exactly what's going to come out. | The gun was a gift from my grandfather. He passed away when I was eighteen and left his house, cars, cash and possessions in the hands of my siblings, mother and father.
I was mad. Really mad. Enough to take the gun and throw it at the wall. But when I picked it up and pulled the trigger, a dozen of the most beautiful roses I had ever seen, along with a note in my handwriting telling my girlfriend how much I loved her, fell out of the front of the gun.
I was confused. Why on Earth would I need a bunch of roses and a note? Where did they come from, anyway? How was the gun powered? Why did grandpa give it to me, and nobody else?
All these questions, except the first, went unanswered. As I was puzzling over the situation, my then girlfriend of six years, Amanda, burst in the door and wrapped her arms around me.
"Happy Valentine's Day!!!" she squealed, waving a box of chocolates under my nose.
That's how I figured out what the gun did. As the years went on, whenever I needed something desperately, and needed it now, I would pull out the gun, as I was sure I would get what I needed.
Fast forward to today.
I'm sitting at home, sipping a cup of hot Vix and lamenting my case of bronchitis. Usually I work in electrical construction, but today I called in sick. Bronchitis regularly knocked me off my feet every winter. It's easy to catch, seeing as we live up near the Arctic Circle. I peered outside, waiting for the mailman to pass by and hoping the pitch darkness, only illuminated by a single street light that never went out, wouldn't cause the mail to be late. At -25 Celcius outside, it was quite balmy for a day in Alaska, and I was expecting a package from my mother for my wife's upcoming birthday. Mail normally came around five, and since it was only four thirty, I wasn't worried. We're lucky to get mail at all, seeing as we live forty minutes out of town, and the word "town" represents a store, a post office, and a restaurant.
I let the curtains fall back down and sighed, taking another sip of Vix tea and listening to the unnatural silence in the house. Normally, the house would ring with shrieks of joy and laughter as Jane and Alice, my two beautiful little girls, would tear around the house, playing some game. Inevitably, my wife, Amanda, would step in and break it up when it got too rough. I loved all of them with all my heart. But now, with the two girls at a friend's house and Amanda at a book club meeting, I had the house to myself.
​
Sometimes that wasn't such a good thing.
​
It would bring back memories of Afghanistan, of bloody limbs and burnt faces and--no. That will just make things worse.
The only thing I got out of the bloody war was their paying for my college tuition.
​
As I took another sip of my Vix, the lights went out.
"Weird," I thought, glancing in the den. Lights out there too. I quickly checked in the rest of the house and confirmed that there was no power anywhere in the house. As I was rummaging through a drawer in pitch darkness, looking for a flashlight, a knock sounded at the door.
This was starting to creep me out.
​
I groped my way down the stairs and into the front hallway, and pulled open the front door. Standing there in the darkness was the silhouette of a young girl, bundled up in a winter jacket. I thought her hair was...blonde? but there was no way I could see anything else. It was too dark outside.
"Hello, mister. I was driving with my grandpa and our car broke down."
Something is off about her voice.
"It's just about a mile back, down the road. If you could come help us out of the ditch, that would be very good."
It's too deep. Scratchy, like something moving around in an inky black cave.
"Mister?"
"Uh...yeah," I managed to say, still offput by her voice.
"Just let me get my coat..." I shut the door. I know it was rude, but something about her...it put me off. Maybe it was the way she kept rocking back and forth.
I groped my way back into the den, cursing the lack of light. I picked up the phone and started dialling Amanda's number. I was halfway through it before I noticed--no dial tone.
Suddenly my mind darted back to outside. Past the girl, silent and completely still on the porch, past the empty driveway, and up to the street light. It was too dark outside to see her face because the street light was off.
But that didn't make sense. That light never went off. It had an underground power line and was powered by the state. That light hadn't been off since we moved here, eight years ago.
Shaken, I stumbled my way up to my room, where I kept the wishing gun.
"What I need right now," I murmured, "is some light."
I pointed the gun at the bed and it seemed to \*stretch--\*to get so wide I was sure it was going to break. It shuddered, choked, and finally spat out--
Not a headlamp.
Not a flashlight.
But an M2A9 light machine gun. I dropped the older gun and picked up the machine gun with trembling hands.
"I haven't seen one of these since...since Afghanistan," I thought to myself, checking the breech with trembling fingers.
The chamber had been modified to hold High-Explosive Incendiary/Armor Piercing rounds, or HEIAP rounds. I had seen rounds like these take down a tank. A literal M1 Abrams.
"Why on Earth would I need one of these?!" I thought to myself, as I heard the front door close and the lock click. | 200 Bucks is what it cost. 200 bucks for peace and quiet, a way to end the pain, a way to say goodbye. The old bastard that sold it to me was crazier than my ex on a 3 day meth binge. He kept mumbling about what I need, who I need and he could give it to me for only 200 dollars.
I thought, screw it, I have nothing left, there's no point and whoever thought that suicide should be illegal was a moron that never understood what it was to hit rock bottom. I look out the window of my run down apartment, watching people like ants scurrying around as if anything they do matters. They don't get it, they don't understand. It's all pointless.
I sit at the edge of my bed holding the gun, feeling the hard lines down the sides. The way the grip feels in my hand. The simple coolness of it. How it absorbs the light.
I wonder in my mind for a moment, how it will happen, how it will feel. All I can imagine is that it's got to be better than this. I raise the barrel to my temple, and pull the trigger.
In a moment the silence is filled with the sound of my throbbing head. There was a blast that knocked my head sideways but not what I expected. What the hell just happened, I wonder? I raise my hand to the side of my head, I can feel some scratches and a little bit of blood comes away on my figures, but nothing like it should with a gunshot. I seem to be fine for the most part.
I stand up only to fall back on the bed as I step on something. There's a loud yelp as I fall back. I sit back up and there he is. Sitting there in front of me with the same goofy grin, the same floppy ears, and the never stationary wagging tail. Just as he was 20 years ago. Luke.
We had been together till the very end, his paw in my hand as he took his last nap. Always by my side, he always kept me going in the darkest of times. Yet here he is again, not at my end, but perhaps at a new beginning. | |
[WP] The aliens have touched down. As their ramp descends and they emerge from their ship, the first alien trips and falls down the stairs | Anxious whispers dispersed among the small crowd. The sterile white walls buzzed with energy and even the smallest noise seemed to make everyone jump a little in their skin.
The lone figure standing in front of them spoke. “Alright everyone, this is the big one.”
“The big one...” the group murmured.
“We have one chance to make the right impression. To teach them about us through our behavior. How we walk. How we present ourselves. Anything short of perfection will most likely end in disaster.”
A nervous silence fell upon the group. Never before had they faced such a terrifying challenge.
“We need to be confident. Confident but not cocky. We want to seem like we know exactly what we’re doing but also make it clear that what we’re doing isn’t colonizing them or being violent.”
A hand raised up from deep inside the crowd.
“Yes?”
“But we don’t know what we’re doing.”
She rubbed her temples. “I realize that. But this is all about appearances, right? No matter how we feel on the inside, on the outside we need to be calm, serene, full of untold wisdom. That’s the whole point of this pep talk.”
“Fake it till we make it,” someone offered.
“Yes, exactly! We just need to pretend long enough for them to understand that we’re not hostile. After that, you know, we can tell them that this is all a huge misunderstanding. And you know, while we’re at it, let’s maybe dispel some of those humiliating stereotypes they have about us too.”
“Like the anal probing?”
“Yes, like the anal probing. We’re just like them, you know? We don’t touch people’s butts, we don’t whisk people away without their consent, hell, we go through the same sexual harassment training as everyone else in the galaxy.”
Everyone nodded in agreement.
“So let’s go out there and show them what we’ve got!”
\~\~\~
Somewhere outside the spacecraft, beyond the military barriers and ominous white tents filled with exhausted scientists, a mass of news reporters waited patiently for the big event. A woman stood in front of a large camera, her back turned to the extra terrestrial ship.
“I am coming to you live from what we are calling ‘First Contact’ and it seems like these aliens may be ready to finally meet us. This UFO landed just hours ago and despite seeing movement from inside the craft, no aliens have stepped foot on Earth. Our sources say that the military is hesitant to open fire on the vessel as we have no idea how the aliens could respond.”
Behind her, chaos erupts. Scientists and soldiers run and scream, getting into position.
“It seems that there’s been a development. It looks like the aliens are beginning to open what we can only assume to be a door of some kind on the side of the spacecraft. This is it, folks, this is First Contact. We are about to witness one of the most important events ever recorded in human history.”
She pauses to catch her breath and push a bit of hair behind her ear.
“I don’t know if you at home can see this but it appears that the aliens are stepping out of the ship. They are impossible to describe, they seem almost human but, no, it’s hard to tell, they keep changing, shifting. Are you getting this? My god. They are making their way down the ramp...”
Suddenly, a crash is heard.
“It seems as if one of the aliens has fallen down, I repeat, an alien has tripped. I don’t know if we can show this on national television but the alien appears to be cursing. In English, no less.”
The camera zooms in on the aliens.
“F\*ck, motherf\*cker that hurts. I cannot believe I just did that. Shit. After all that, I trip on a goddamn nail. Which one of you ran maintenance on this ramp, huh? Was it you Jerry?”
An alien standing a few inches away shakes his head.
“Shit, okay, we can recover. Let’s just keep on looking mysterious and, wait, is my mic on? Is my freaking mic on?” The alien turned to face the waiting crowd, all with eyes wide and mouths agape.
“Damn it.”
The camera swerves, focusing attention back on the reporter.
“Well you’ve seen it here first folks, the aliens are just like us.” | The movies always showed a sleek, shiny spacecraft touching down. This heap was not it. The craft was dented, pockmarked with blast spots, and it sported an exhaust trail that glowed in the afternoon sun. The landing, shall we say, lacked grace.
It was the last thing anyone would expect to show up at the town's Easter Egg hunt. Right in the middle of the park's soccer pitches sat an unknown craft. The reactions were mixed. At least half the crowd dragged their children back to the minivans and SUV's, peeling out of the parking lot like they were on their way out of church and trying to get to brunch without having a wait.
A few whipped out their smartphones. A gaggle of children ran up to the craft; most being snatched away by their parents. But this diversion meant that they couldn't get to their parked cars without getting run over in the panic. Instead, they drew back to what they hoped was a safe distance. A few bags filled with plastic eggs littered the soccer pitch. There were murmurs of consternation as the craft sat there a moment. When a platform came out of the craft, the small crowd drew back a little further, but held.
Stairs blossomed from the platform. The door opened, and the crowd could see a knot of creatures inside. They gasped as the first one slowly descended. It was four feet tall at most, its skin the shade of the red clay of the South. Its black eyes were the size of the Easter eggs the children sought. Its steps were shaky, uncertain. The crowd was murmuring. The alien glanced around at the crowd, missed the next step, and fell ass-over-teakettle to the bottom of the stairs. It lay there in an ignominious heap. Then there was a small wail of pain. The aliens at the top of the stairs held back, seemingly torn.
Suddenly, a boy grabbed his mother's purse and ran forward. He knelt by the heap of alien at the bottom of the stairs. "That had to have hurt," he said, laying a hand on the alien's shoulder. The alien sat up, skittering away a couple of feet. "You're bleeding!" the boy said. "Green? Like Vulcans?" The boy reached into his mother's purse. His hand emerged with bandages and antiseptic. "Here," he said, "Mom always keeps lots." He opened the antiseptic. "This might hurt a little, but you have to clean the scrapes first." He gently dabbed the alien's wounds.
"*Peter*!" his mother hissed. "Get back here!" She held a toddler girl in her arms.
"He's hurt, Mom!" the boy shouted back. The alien flinched at the sound.
"Sorry," the boy said. "Now the Band-Aids. These ones have Superman on them. My favorite. He can fly because he was born in a different gravity. Guess you weren't so lucky, huh?" The boy started putting bandages on every place that oozed green. The alien tilted its head, watching the boy intently. The boy finished quickly.
"See?" Peter said. "And since you didn't cry, you get something." He reached into his bag of Easter eggs, unscrewed a plastic shell, and grabbed the tiny candy bar inside. "Here. These are good." He handed the candy bar to the alien. It gazed down at its hand. Then it grabbed a gadget on its belt and appeared to scan the candy bar. Meanwhile, Peter had opened another and ate it, demonstrating. "Try it. It's good!"
The alien finished scanning, then negotiated the wrapper. It put the candy bar in its mouth, then started to chew. At this moment Peter's mother ran up and snatched him away. "Don't you touch him!" she growled. The alien shrank back.
"Mo-om!" Peter cried, then squirmed out of her grasp. "He isn't doing anything!"
"Peter, *get in the car,"* his mother ordered.
"Mom!" Peter cried. "He's hurt!" The woman stared down at the alien covered in Superman Band-aids. The alien gazed back at her solemnly. The aliens still in the ship had their hands on something, possibly their weapons. Silence yawned between them. The alien swallowed the candy bar. It wanted more; in fact it was starving. Normally its race wasn't so *gangly.*
"In church we talked about washing the feet," the boy said. "Isn't this it?" The alien was searching in the bag for more Easter eggs. Mother and alien's eyes met. The alien froze. "Son of a bitch," she breathed. She reached down for her purse and grabbed the hand sanitizer. "SOAK your hands in this," she told her son. A teenager had crept closer with his smartphone. Peter's mother rummaged in her bag. She grabbed a bag of almonds. "Don't eat more of those candy bars," she told the alien. "God knows what they'll do to you." She lifted the plastic Easter egg from the alien's hands. "Eat these." She gave him the almonds.
The alien scanned the bag, then addressed its comrades in a chirping sort of language. They descended the stairs and annihilated the bag between them. "Right," Peter's mother said. She raised her voice and addressed the small crowd. "Go to your cars, bring back your Goldfish crackers, your granola bars, your dried fruits, but *not* those goddamn Lunchables, let's not create an interplanetary incident." She sighed and eyed the hatch of the alien vessel. "How many of you are there? Looks like we need to rig up a pot luck here..."
My other stories can be found at r/HazelNightengale
Edit: Brushed the wrong button, had to finish it. | |
[WP] Your entire life, you have been able to see the red strings of fate connecting people to their soulmates. Yours has always extended past the sky. Space travel has just became available, so you begin your search for your soulmate. | Most people believe that we only have one soulmate...
Those people would be wrong.
When I was younger, it was beautiful. Seeing these shiny red strings that everyone had flowing out of their chests. They looked like tinsel on a Christmas tree. Some strings seemed brighter than others. As if one connection could be stronger than another.
Watching people unknowingly walk by one of their soulmates was excruciating. Every day i watched the same man walk by a bench with a beautiful woman on it. Peacefully reading her book. Not once did he engage with her. I wanted to tell them that they were missing their chance, but even at a young age I knew it was dangerous to mess with fate.
As I got older, it lost all it’s majesty.
I noticed my parents weren’t connected by a thread. So It was no surprise to me when they inevitably divorced.
I began to notice the amount of strings people had too. Some had many and others had very few. It felt unfair and sadistic that some people weren’t given as many chances at love as others.
For as long as I can remember, I’ve only had 10 strings. 9 of these strings stretch outward toward the horizon. And one reaches straight up. So high that it disappears. It’s
My brightest one, my truest love, that I am destined never to meet.
The first time I lost one I didn’t understand what was happening.
My second brightest string lost all of its warmth. The luster that once shown proudly from the string was diminished. I stared at it for hours wondering what was happening. Slowly, I watched the thread unravel. As it went closer to my heart I couldn’t help but feel cheated. Cheated out of a love that would’ve brought tears to my eyes and warmth to my soul.
When it finally stopped at my heart, I said a little prayer that it would come back. The hope in my chest was burning like the final embers of a fire. Ready to slowly burn out.
That feeling of despair that I felt when the last piece of string fell gently towards the ground is something that will haunt me forever.
That night, I clung tightly to my pillow. stifling my pain filled wails, as not to wake my mother.praying to a god that I wasn’t even sure was listening anymore.
My brightest love that was here on earth was gone and I was stuck with the pain of knowing, but never knowing why.
As the others began to unravel I was a little more prepared. They happened at random times on random days. Once I woke up and noticed that one of the strings had just no longer existed. It crept away in the middle of the night. Like a one night stand too ashamed to face the light of the day.
Each one was more painful than the last. Knowing that I was losing something but not knowing what I’ve lost or why I’ve lost it is the most heartbreaking thing I haveexperienced
Left with only one string of fate on this earth, I began to feel helpless.
On the day I lost my final earthly string, I gave up on love completely.
I never kept anyone in my life permanently. I lost myself in the endless nights with temporary people. Sometimes they fell in love with me but I never had the pleasure of falling back. Always knowing in the back of my mind that nothing could ever be fulfilling for me. Nothing except the one red string that I will never be able to follow. Destined to never know the feeling of deep intimacy.
While the years passed and I drowned myself in the peaks valleys of others bodies. New advances were being made in technology. Cars were flying and less people were dying and someone was working on a way to travel in deep space.
No one dared to be a part of that project. Ads were taken out in newspapers and commercials were blasted on every news station.
They needed a pilot for an outer space aircraft and they needed one now.
I began to wonder if this was my chance. After all, I have nothing to lose.
The spark that was once a roaring fire within me came back to life. My tiny red string began glowing brighter than ever as hope returned to my heart.
I spent days negotiating with the team of scientists assigned to the project. I wanted full control over the craft so I could take it as far as I pleased. They were worried that it wouldn’t go further than our solar system and they didn’t want to take any chances. I finally agreed to their conditions and promised not to take it anywhere outside of our solar system.
In the coming weeks that I spent training, I couldn’t help but imagine the being that wasn’t of earth and was destined to be my true love. Would I be able to find them? How will we communicate? Every question I thought of would lead to 5 new questions. It made me anxious for what the future holds.
To get my mind off of things, I made small talk with my copilot. Everything was surface level between us. I preferred it that way and I think that they did too. I noticed that they only had one red string of fate. Just like me. Only they couldn’t see it and couldn’t know the pain that only came from having one string of fate.
The day we were scheduled for take off was the day that the string began to quiver. It was as if my heart knew the excitement it was about to endure and it was vibrating with so much energy, that it made my string of fate vibrate too.
As my copilot and I boarded the craft, I saw them kiss the door before we stepped inside and shut it.
“What did you do that for?” I asked.
“It’s for good luck.” They replied. “My momma used to do it on our car before every trip we took. It may be childish and silly but I think we can all use some good luck right now.”
I stared at them with an incredulous look, but inside I was hoping it would give us a little luck too.
Once we made it out of the earth’s atmosphere, my emotions took control over me and I began to sob. I had a feeling that this mission was a death sentence but I still went on anyway. My co pilot looked concerned but instead of asking me questions, they pulled me close and just held me. It took me completely by surprise and made me feel very uncomfortable. But I let them hold me, despite how it made me feel because I felt like they needed it much more Than I did.
Weeks had passed and I seemed no closer to finding the end of my fate string. I had never followed a string of fate before so i didn’t know how long this journey would last. With all of the passing time I began to grow fond of my copilot. They had the energy of a child, and the mind of a warrior. They sang to their-self and danced when they thought i wasnt looking. They were so pure and full of joy that I could see how some people fall for those they are not fated to be with. If I could not see the strings of fate, not see that our strings didn’t align with each other, then I would’ve whole heartedly given into the love that I was starting to feel.
More days passed and I was ready to be back on earth. This trip was exhausting and I was starting to lose hope. We had gone too far for the craft’s distress radio to work and we were running low on fuel. My copilot wanted to continue the journey. They said they had a feeling that something was out there. And so did I. So we continued on our way, knowing that if we didn’t find something soon. We might not make it.
We were distraught when we finally ran out of fuel. We hoped that eventually we’d cross paths with a life form that could save us but it seemed like no one was coming.
Eventually we ran low on food and water and we were struggling to breathe. My copilot looked worse off that I did. And it was breaking my heart. As I stared into their honey colored eyes and they took their last deep breath I whispered the hardest words I have ever had to say.
My string of fate flashed a beautiful glowing red and unraveled to form a soft glow around my copilot.
And in that moment i knew that the strings of fate didn’t lead you to your soulmate they led you to where you were meant to be.
***Thank you if you made it this far. This is my first time writing a story so all feedback is welcomed and appreciated! I know there are a lot of grammatical errors and parts where the story doesn’t flow but I’m still mentally exhausted from my day. I hope y’all enjoy it! | The clock on Joe’s phone read out 2:48 AM, but now was no time to sleep. He lay quietly adrift in a sea of stars, hanging so low in the sky they could nearly be brushed aside with a gentle flick of the wrist. They would spill across the inky blanket of the night like a dazzling ripple, twinkling lights spreading outward across space and time. Joe closed his eyes, taking in the cold morning air, heavy with dew and the bite of a crisp spring dawn that was just hiding over the horizon. Not many more of these, he thought.
Joe turned his gaze back to the night sky and traced the faint red line that shot from his breast and through the southern edges of Virgo. The tether scraped by the star, Spica, and into some unknown realm beyond the gaze of his best telescope. The prospect of following the line to its end, somewhere across the universe, was exhilarating.
In a few short hours, Joe would be pulling in to launch pad 18 in his beat-up Chevy Impala and toss the keys to the gate keeper. “Keep em, won’t be needing those anymore,” Joe would wink at him. He would sit through his morning briefing, drinking some slightly burnt coffee that was made by an intern and then begin the arduous process of boarding. Vital sign checks, donning and doffing the suit a few times, loading of cargo and essentials, top to bottom systems checks, and so on and so forth until they inevitably spent another whole day on the ground. Maybe they’ll launch sometime before his next birthday, Joe mused. But it’s not everyday that you launch a bunch of people into space on a one-way trip.
Joe was an engineer by trade and bought his way onto the ship through no small effort. A few years of ass-kissing to the right people, plenty of time living in the barest of apartments. A girl he fancied once commented how chic his home was, really pushing the minimalist decorative style. Joe would laugh at that while they dated, her never really realizing that he owned one lamp and a solitary love-seat because that’s all he could afford. Space travel was becoming common by then, but it’s not like it was cheap.
Needless to say, their relationship didn’t last. None of the girls he went with stuck around very long. To them, Joe felt like a scenic stop on the way to their final destination. The strings that bound them to their soul mates always led out his front door, while his preferred to leap from the window. Eventually, Joe would stop dating all together and spend his nights looking at the stars, letting his imagination run wild at the idea of what waited for him beyond.
It would have been a lie to say he wasn’t afraid. Terrified, really. After so much time, so much wondering, and so much anticipation, the thought of finally pulling at his string and hurtling towards destiny was a bit overwhelming.
That’s not too dramatic, right? Destiny, Joe thought. No, not dramatic, he continued, this is truly what destiny is. It has arrived for me at last.
Joe stretched out, reaching over his head with his back arched and his toes curling in his shoes. Finally sitting up, he flexed and curled his fingers a few times to get them working again, shaking off the rust of arthritis that made his bones creak and achy. Rising to his feet, he ambled to his Chevy and plopped down on the driver’s seat, pulling the door closed behind him. Joe slid the key into the ignition and turned, the old Impala groaning under protest with squeals as the engine decided whether or not to turn over. Eventually it became more agreeable and kicked to life, shaking off rust of its own.
Adjusting the mirror, Joe caught a glimpse of himself and smiled. He looked less tired today than he had in years. What was left of his graying hairs laid closely to his skull; years of rebelling against any comb or hair product that dare try to tame them had worn them out too. His eyes were grayer now than blue, but they still had a spark behind them. The old man in the mirror gave Joe a wink and a confident nod as he turned the Impala back up the road towards the launch site. He didn’t want to keep the missus waiting. | |
[WP] Your entire life, you have been able to see the red strings of fate connecting people to their soulmates. Yours has always extended past the sky. Space travel has just became available, so you begin your search for your soulmate. | Most people believe that we only have one soulmate...
Those people would be wrong.
When I was younger, it was beautiful. Seeing these shiny red strings that everyone had flowing out of their chests. They looked like tinsel on a Christmas tree. Some strings seemed brighter than others. As if one connection could be stronger than another.
Watching people unknowingly walk by one of their soulmates was excruciating. Every day i watched the same man walk by a bench with a beautiful woman on it. Peacefully reading her book. Not once did he engage with her. I wanted to tell them that they were missing their chance, but even at a young age I knew it was dangerous to mess with fate.
As I got older, it lost all it’s majesty.
I noticed my parents weren’t connected by a thread. So It was no surprise to me when they inevitably divorced.
I began to notice the amount of strings people had too. Some had many and others had very few. It felt unfair and sadistic that some people weren’t given as many chances at love as others.
For as long as I can remember, I’ve only had 10 strings. 9 of these strings stretch outward toward the horizon. And one reaches straight up. So high that it disappears. It’s
My brightest one, my truest love, that I am destined never to meet.
The first time I lost one I didn’t understand what was happening.
My second brightest string lost all of its warmth. The luster that once shown proudly from the string was diminished. I stared at it for hours wondering what was happening. Slowly, I watched the thread unravel. As it went closer to my heart I couldn’t help but feel cheated. Cheated out of a love that would’ve brought tears to my eyes and warmth to my soul.
When it finally stopped at my heart, I said a little prayer that it would come back. The hope in my chest was burning like the final embers of a fire. Ready to slowly burn out.
That feeling of despair that I felt when the last piece of string fell gently towards the ground is something that will haunt me forever.
That night, I clung tightly to my pillow. stifling my pain filled wails, as not to wake my mother.praying to a god that I wasn’t even sure was listening anymore.
My brightest love that was here on earth was gone and I was stuck with the pain of knowing, but never knowing why.
As the others began to unravel I was a little more prepared. They happened at random times on random days. Once I woke up and noticed that one of the strings had just no longer existed. It crept away in the middle of the night. Like a one night stand too ashamed to face the light of the day.
Each one was more painful than the last. Knowing that I was losing something but not knowing what I’ve lost or why I’ve lost it is the most heartbreaking thing I haveexperienced
Left with only one string of fate on this earth, I began to feel helpless.
On the day I lost my final earthly string, I gave up on love completely.
I never kept anyone in my life permanently. I lost myself in the endless nights with temporary people. Sometimes they fell in love with me but I never had the pleasure of falling back. Always knowing in the back of my mind that nothing could ever be fulfilling for me. Nothing except the one red string that I will never be able to follow. Destined to never know the feeling of deep intimacy.
While the years passed and I drowned myself in the peaks valleys of others bodies. New advances were being made in technology. Cars were flying and less people were dying and someone was working on a way to travel in deep space.
No one dared to be a part of that project. Ads were taken out in newspapers and commercials were blasted on every news station.
They needed a pilot for an outer space aircraft and they needed one now.
I began to wonder if this was my chance. After all, I have nothing to lose.
The spark that was once a roaring fire within me came back to life. My tiny red string began glowing brighter than ever as hope returned to my heart.
I spent days negotiating with the team of scientists assigned to the project. I wanted full control over the craft so I could take it as far as I pleased. They were worried that it wouldn’t go further than our solar system and they didn’t want to take any chances. I finally agreed to their conditions and promised not to take it anywhere outside of our solar system.
In the coming weeks that I spent training, I couldn’t help but imagine the being that wasn’t of earth and was destined to be my true love. Would I be able to find them? How will we communicate? Every question I thought of would lead to 5 new questions. It made me anxious for what the future holds.
To get my mind off of things, I made small talk with my copilot. Everything was surface level between us. I preferred it that way and I think that they did too. I noticed that they only had one red string of fate. Just like me. Only they couldn’t see it and couldn’t know the pain that only came from having one string of fate.
The day we were scheduled for take off was the day that the string began to quiver. It was as if my heart knew the excitement it was about to endure and it was vibrating with so much energy, that it made my string of fate vibrate too.
As my copilot and I boarded the craft, I saw them kiss the door before we stepped inside and shut it.
“What did you do that for?” I asked.
“It’s for good luck.” They replied. “My momma used to do it on our car before every trip we took. It may be childish and silly but I think we can all use some good luck right now.”
I stared at them with an incredulous look, but inside I was hoping it would give us a little luck too.
Once we made it out of the earth’s atmosphere, my emotions took control over me and I began to sob. I had a feeling that this mission was a death sentence but I still went on anyway. My co pilot looked concerned but instead of asking me questions, they pulled me close and just held me. It took me completely by surprise and made me feel very uncomfortable. But I let them hold me, despite how it made me feel because I felt like they needed it much more Than I did.
Weeks had passed and I seemed no closer to finding the end of my fate string. I had never followed a string of fate before so i didn’t know how long this journey would last. With all of the passing time I began to grow fond of my copilot. They had the energy of a child, and the mind of a warrior. They sang to their-self and danced when they thought i wasnt looking. They were so pure and full of joy that I could see how some people fall for those they are not fated to be with. If I could not see the strings of fate, not see that our strings didn’t align with each other, then I would’ve whole heartedly given into the love that I was starting to feel.
More days passed and I was ready to be back on earth. This trip was exhausting and I was starting to lose hope. We had gone too far for the craft’s distress radio to work and we were running low on fuel. My copilot wanted to continue the journey. They said they had a feeling that something was out there. And so did I. So we continued on our way, knowing that if we didn’t find something soon. We might not make it.
We were distraught when we finally ran out of fuel. We hoped that eventually we’d cross paths with a life form that could save us but it seemed like no one was coming.
Eventually we ran low on food and water and we were struggling to breathe. My copilot looked worse off that I did. And it was breaking my heart. As I stared into their honey colored eyes and they took their last deep breath I whispered the hardest words I have ever had to say.
My string of fate flashed a beautiful glowing red and unraveled to form a soft glow around my copilot.
And in that moment i knew that the strings of fate didn’t lead you to your soulmate they led you to where you were meant to be.
***Thank you if you made it this far. This is my first time writing a story so all feedback is welcomed and appreciated! I know there are a lot of grammatical errors and parts where the story doesn’t flow but I’m still mentally exhausted from my day. I hope y’all enjoy it! | "Rachel! Are you listening to me at all?"
I jolted out of my daydream as I realized my sister Crystal was talking to me as we wound our way through the mostly deserted street of our small village. I nodded. I wasn't actually listening, however. Yet again, she was complaining about her boyfriend Tommy. As she continued speaking, movement ahead caught my eye.
A young man was walking down the opposite street across from us hand-in-hand with a woman. A long and red string extended from the center of his chest into hers. Just below that string entering his partner's chest extended a second string from her chest back into his. I shook my head slightly trying to snap myself out of what must be a hallucination with my mouth hanging open. Apart from the couple, my sister and I were the only other people around.
I glanced to my left at Crystal's chest and saw with shock a red string erupting from her chest as well, extending well into the distance ahead and out of sight.
I gazed down at my own chest and saw a red string erupting from it, elongating upwards and as far into the twilight sky as I could see.
I interrupted my sister's monologue about her boyfriend and their most recent fight to exclaim, "Crystal, are you seeing this?"
"Seeing what?" she said annoyed.
"The red strings coming from our chests and the strings coming from that couple's chest up there as well!" I said as I pointed at the couple across the street.
Crystal looked back at me bewildered, all hints of annoyance fading from her face.
"No," she said, "I don't see anything!"
A feeling of dread filled my stomach. Was I crazy? Or having a hallucination? I turned away from her quickly to look back at the couple. The strings connecting them were still there. If this was real, why am I seeing it now? Why haven't I always seen it?
"I must just be dehydrated or tired, we've been out shopping almost all day now. Are you ready to go?" I lied, I didn't want my own sister to think I was crazy. I resolved to keep these new visions quiet unless they continued. My whole life I have been subjected to strange visions, usually of ghosts and once an alien. My family was beginning to think me of me as insane but a large part of me felt as if it was all real. But this phenomenon was new and had never happened before.
"Okay, let's head back home".
We walked the half of a mile back to our house, just in time for dinner. We greeted our mother, father, and brother. At this point, I wasn't surprised to see red strings erupting from their chests as well. My father's string erupted from his chest and rooted in my mother's. My mother's string below it however extended into the distance and past the walls of our home, beyond sight. My brother's string also extended into the distance.
What were these strings? I wanted to know so badly what they signified and what they meant if anything.
After dinner, I rushed upstairs to my room to do some online research. A quick Google search revealed that others had seen these strings too, many of their strings entering their partner or spouse's chest. Many thought the strings connected soulmates. If that was true, were my parents not soulmates? My mother's did not empty into my father's chest. Although the thought worried me, it would not be surprising. They fought often.
I sighed and read more accounts of these visions from people across the globe. At least it doesn't seem like I'm crazy, at least not about this! Why however, did my string extend upwards into the sky instead of perpendicular to the Earth as everyone else's did?
I could not find any online account of anyone else seeing someone with a red string like mine or having one that extended upward themselves.
The next few days every person I observed had a string erupting in their chest to either someone in the room or vicinity or extending far into the distance. I hoped to see others with strings extending straight upwards but never did.
As the year progressed and I continued to see the red strings, I realized that my soulmate must be either on another planet or lost in space somewhere. This was disheartening considering how huge the universe was. But, the year being 2073, space travel was very common for both middle class and high-class families.
I was due to graduate high school in two weeks and convinced my parents to buy tickets for me and my sister to go on a space cruise of Earth's solar system. The entire journey will take six months. I was beyond excited and scared as well. This may have just been the chance I had been waiting for to finally meet my soulmate. | |
[WP] Your entire life, you have been able to see the red strings of fate connecting people to their soulmates. Yours has always extended past the sky. Space travel has just became available, so you begin your search for your soulmate. | It was mid-morning when my phone buzzed against the desk. Under several manila folders, I fish it out to check the text.
"Sir, *Lonestar* is ready to go. We can be wheels up in an hour."
The world is silent for a half-second, then crashes back to reality as I launch up from my desk.
"OK team, you'll have to take it from here, don't expect me anytime soon, you know how to reach me!" I blurt out, words tripping over each other, and my feet tripping over themselves, as I race out the door. I'm gone before my staff can pick their heads up from the mountains of cases they're working on.
"Good luck sir!" rings out from behind the closing lobby door of HeartSpool INC, and only barely registers in my ears as I make my way to the car. I hop in with a spring in my step that's been wound up for many, *many* years. Walter lets a smile creep across his face from the driver's seat as he eyes me through the rear view mirror.
"I take it you're ready for liftoff, sir?"
Pause. I realize we're a little ahead of ourselves here. To understand where we are now, we need to turn the clock back a couple years.
I've had a special talent for reading people. And not in the cliche, oft-used style most people think they have, when they can smell a liar or see through facades. I have this vision, this key, that allows me to draw a path connecting everyone I encounter to their soulmate.
It shows up as a red string (visible only to me), pointing off into the distance of where any passerby's fated lover lies. Along with the string, a couple pertinent details like distance, location, and occupation pop up alongside, revealing to me just who exactly each of us is supposed to meet. At first, I was tangled by the thought of it. Knowing exactly who and where everyone's soulmate is.
It certainly painted my days in far more revealing shades. Working a standard 9-to-5 at the time, I was running into countless folks on the street. Some had strings that wrapped around a couple blocks till they ended in numerous stores and parks. Others had straight beams that shot out, past skylines and oceans, into some far off land.
At first, I kept it close. Who would believe such a talent, no, *superpower?* But it slowly became something I couldn't hold within. I reassured my friends who were in their loving relationships that yeah, you really *did* find the one when you met her or him. To amuse myself, I would spend my days in restaurants, movie theaters, the "classic" dating atmospheres, to see who was about to start something beautiful (and woe to the pairs who's strings split into opposite directions).
And then I realized the sheer weight of what I could see. The ability to tell someone, definitively, where the person who is going to give them their final happiness is. Without a doubt.
And the ability to monetize it.
Now, before you think me to be some cruel capitalist of the heart, let me clarify. I don't demand ransoms from the ones who want to find their love. In fact, I let them set the price for knowing who their soulmate is. You would not believe the number of 0's folks add to that number. When the heartstrings are involved, the purse strings are drawn wide.
The clientele is infinite. I would move from city to city, setting up shop and sending people to their other half day by day. Word spreads, lines form, and cameras show up, local reporters wanting to get the story of the guy who somehow *know*s.
The call me the Stringman. I think you can see why.
At first, it was just me, my one-man-shop of keys to hearts near and far. But demand rapidly outgained supply, and I had to expand my enterprise if I was ever going to satisfy the market.
Enter HeartSpool INC, the world's most successful relationship service. My team is stacked with members from disciplines the world over. Travel agents to book your trip across the country to that no-name town where your soulmate lives. Language professionals to help you learn how to say, "You look handsome in that jacket, is that leather?" in whatever tongue your lover will understand.
And the money just pours in. Tell someone you can take them to the love of their life, and they'll pass over the cash without thinking about it. I stopped keeping track of my ledgers within a year. When NASDAQ CEOs and oil barons drop into your office asking for the favor of a life, you don't have to make a budget.
I grew phenomenally wealthy off of sending people to their eternal happiness. It became such a rush, and such a constant demand, that I tended to forget mine.
This begs the obvious question: Where does my string go?
Well, I only learned quite recently. At first, I didn't have a string. I reasoned it would have been too easy if I knew where my own soulmate was. Perhaps this was an ironic twist on my Cupid's fortune, that my own love would be a mystery while the world's was brought to light before me.
Sure enough, however, a red line slowly faded into view. Blurry at first, I couldn't make out the terminus. In fact, I couldn't interpret anything from it, other than that it didn't lead *here,* or *there.*
One day, it sharpens to a precision that leaves me stunned. The line flies out of our atmosphere, into the ether of space.
I'm left with a startling realization: Either humans live on planets outside this world, or my love is a species not my own.
When the line revealed itself, I set to work on fulfilling my own prophecy. I hired ranks of scientists, astronomers, and every beaker-brain I could think of. They had one challenge: Build me a ship that can take me *there. Money is no issue.*
Of course, I need to bring you back to the present. In our time, space travel is within reach of the uber-rich and interested parties. Government scientists are cashing out to build spacecrafts for the elite who wanted to bring a new meaning to *bird's eye view*.
So, *Lonestar* is my personal project, my space-faring ship that will, someday, bring me to my destined love. And learning that it's fully operational has me over the moon. In the time I've explained this, Walter has brought me to Dock 45, housing *Lonestar* and all those big-brained individuals who have engineered my ticket to the stars.
*Lonestar* is state-of-the-art, allowing me to keep tabs on everything Earth-related while I'm up in the cosmos. It will be a solo journey, but my staff is busy stocking the ship with enough food and supplies to fuel this search for my soulmate. We've rehearsed this day over and over, so the goodbyes almost seem routine as I board the ship. (Having space wifi helps too. What, you think I couldn't afford it?)
Soon enough, I clear the atmosphere, passing a couple luxury space yachts in the process. I turn back, looking at our beautiful blue marble. It's wrapped in red twine, encircling the Earth in fated loves throughout.
Turning to my panels, I get to work on solving my string. Away from the clutter of the 7 billion people down below, my line appears brighter, more resonant. I can't pin it's path quite yet, it's not making an effort towards any of the other planets in our solar system. Looks like I won't meet an absolute DIME on Saturn after all.
I radio back to homestation that *Lonestar* is a smashing success, and that I'm on the lookout for my love. Applause erupts from Dock 45, the scientists have done their job to a T. I update them on some technical readings from the on-board computer, and they patch in software to keep me on mission.
Suddenly, the string vibrates uncontrollably, as if being yanked in all directions. I consult my navigation tools, but the dials spin haphazard and without cause. The string starts to glow, careening around the spacescape in front of me, glowing to blinding intensity.
A shattering light flashes out from the field in front of me. Shielding my eyes, I slowly return my gaze to the front.
The line splits in two.
One segment heads straight back to Earth, in fact, right back to Dock 45.
The other segment finds an azimuth straight for a mass in front of me, a bluish-grey planet isolated in the depths of the black.
Before I can even register what's happened, I'm thrown off my feet by the sudden motion of the ship.
That planet is getting closer.
*It's pulling me in.* | "Rachel! Are you listening to me at all?"
I jolted out of my daydream as I realized my sister Crystal was talking to me as we wound our way through the mostly deserted street of our small village. I nodded. I wasn't actually listening, however. Yet again, she was complaining about her boyfriend Tommy. As she continued speaking, movement ahead caught my eye.
A young man was walking down the opposite street across from us hand-in-hand with a woman. A long and red string extended from the center of his chest into hers. Just below that string entering his partner's chest extended a second string from her chest back into his. I shook my head slightly trying to snap myself out of what must be a hallucination with my mouth hanging open. Apart from the couple, my sister and I were the only other people around.
I glanced to my left at Crystal's chest and saw with shock a red string erupting from her chest as well, extending well into the distance ahead and out of sight.
I gazed down at my own chest and saw a red string erupting from it, elongating upwards and as far into the twilight sky as I could see.
I interrupted my sister's monologue about her boyfriend and their most recent fight to exclaim, "Crystal, are you seeing this?"
"Seeing what?" she said annoyed.
"The red strings coming from our chests and the strings coming from that couple's chest up there as well!" I said as I pointed at the couple across the street.
Crystal looked back at me bewildered, all hints of annoyance fading from her face.
"No," she said, "I don't see anything!"
A feeling of dread filled my stomach. Was I crazy? Or having a hallucination? I turned away from her quickly to look back at the couple. The strings connecting them were still there. If this was real, why am I seeing it now? Why haven't I always seen it?
"I must just be dehydrated or tired, we've been out shopping almost all day now. Are you ready to go?" I lied, I didn't want my own sister to think I was crazy. I resolved to keep these new visions quiet unless they continued. My whole life I have been subjected to strange visions, usually of ghosts and once an alien. My family was beginning to think me of me as insane but a large part of me felt as if it was all real. But this phenomenon was new and had never happened before.
"Okay, let's head back home".
We walked the half of a mile back to our house, just in time for dinner. We greeted our mother, father, and brother. At this point, I wasn't surprised to see red strings erupting from their chests as well. My father's string erupted from his chest and rooted in my mother's. My mother's string below it however extended into the distance and past the walls of our home, beyond sight. My brother's string also extended into the distance.
What were these strings? I wanted to know so badly what they signified and what they meant if anything.
After dinner, I rushed upstairs to my room to do some online research. A quick Google search revealed that others had seen these strings too, many of their strings entering their partner or spouse's chest. Many thought the strings connected soulmates. If that was true, were my parents not soulmates? My mother's did not empty into my father's chest. Although the thought worried me, it would not be surprising. They fought often.
I sighed and read more accounts of these visions from people across the globe. At least it doesn't seem like I'm crazy, at least not about this! Why however, did my string extend upwards into the sky instead of perpendicular to the Earth as everyone else's did?
I could not find any online account of anyone else seeing someone with a red string like mine or having one that extended upward themselves.
The next few days every person I observed had a string erupting in their chest to either someone in the room or vicinity or extending far into the distance. I hoped to see others with strings extending straight upwards but never did.
As the year progressed and I continued to see the red strings, I realized that my soulmate must be either on another planet or lost in space somewhere. This was disheartening considering how huge the universe was. But, the year being 2073, space travel was very common for both middle class and high-class families.
I was due to graduate high school in two weeks and convinced my parents to buy tickets for me and my sister to go on a space cruise of Earth's solar system. The entire journey will take six months. I was beyond excited and scared as well. This may have just been the chance I had been waiting for to finally meet my soulmate. | |
[WP] Your entire life, you have been able to see the red strings of fate connecting people to their soulmates. Yours has always extended past the sky. Space travel has just became available, so you begin your search for your soulmate. | Most people believe that we only have one soulmate...
Those people would be wrong.
When I was younger, it was beautiful. Seeing these shiny red strings that everyone had flowing out of their chests. They looked like tinsel on a Christmas tree. Some strings seemed brighter than others. As if one connection could be stronger than another.
Watching people unknowingly walk by one of their soulmates was excruciating. Every day i watched the same man walk by a bench with a beautiful woman on it. Peacefully reading her book. Not once did he engage with her. I wanted to tell them that they were missing their chance, but even at a young age I knew it was dangerous to mess with fate.
As I got older, it lost all it’s majesty.
I noticed my parents weren’t connected by a thread. So It was no surprise to me when they inevitably divorced.
I began to notice the amount of strings people had too. Some had many and others had very few. It felt unfair and sadistic that some people weren’t given as many chances at love as others.
For as long as I can remember, I’ve only had 10 strings. 9 of these strings stretch outward toward the horizon. And one reaches straight up. So high that it disappears. It’s
My brightest one, my truest love, that I am destined never to meet.
The first time I lost one I didn’t understand what was happening.
My second brightest string lost all of its warmth. The luster that once shown proudly from the string was diminished. I stared at it for hours wondering what was happening. Slowly, I watched the thread unravel. As it went closer to my heart I couldn’t help but feel cheated. Cheated out of a love that would’ve brought tears to my eyes and warmth to my soul.
When it finally stopped at my heart, I said a little prayer that it would come back. The hope in my chest was burning like the final embers of a fire. Ready to slowly burn out.
That feeling of despair that I felt when the last piece of string fell gently towards the ground is something that will haunt me forever.
That night, I clung tightly to my pillow. stifling my pain filled wails, as not to wake my mother.praying to a god that I wasn’t even sure was listening anymore.
My brightest love that was here on earth was gone and I was stuck with the pain of knowing, but never knowing why.
As the others began to unravel I was a little more prepared. They happened at random times on random days. Once I woke up and noticed that one of the strings had just no longer existed. It crept away in the middle of the night. Like a one night stand too ashamed to face the light of the day.
Each one was more painful than the last. Knowing that I was losing something but not knowing what I’ve lost or why I’ve lost it is the most heartbreaking thing I haveexperienced
Left with only one string of fate on this earth, I began to feel helpless.
On the day I lost my final earthly string, I gave up on love completely.
I never kept anyone in my life permanently. I lost myself in the endless nights with temporary people. Sometimes they fell in love with me but I never had the pleasure of falling back. Always knowing in the back of my mind that nothing could ever be fulfilling for me. Nothing except the one red string that I will never be able to follow. Destined to never know the feeling of deep intimacy.
While the years passed and I drowned myself in the peaks valleys of others bodies. New advances were being made in technology. Cars were flying and less people were dying and someone was working on a way to travel in deep space.
No one dared to be a part of that project. Ads were taken out in newspapers and commercials were blasted on every news station.
They needed a pilot for an outer space aircraft and they needed one now.
I began to wonder if this was my chance. After all, I have nothing to lose.
The spark that was once a roaring fire within me came back to life. My tiny red string began glowing brighter than ever as hope returned to my heart.
I spent days negotiating with the team of scientists assigned to the project. I wanted full control over the craft so I could take it as far as I pleased. They were worried that it wouldn’t go further than our solar system and they didn’t want to take any chances. I finally agreed to their conditions and promised not to take it anywhere outside of our solar system.
In the coming weeks that I spent training, I couldn’t help but imagine the being that wasn’t of earth and was destined to be my true love. Would I be able to find them? How will we communicate? Every question I thought of would lead to 5 new questions. It made me anxious for what the future holds.
To get my mind off of things, I made small talk with my copilot. Everything was surface level between us. I preferred it that way and I think that they did too. I noticed that they only had one red string of fate. Just like me. Only they couldn’t see it and couldn’t know the pain that only came from having one string of fate.
The day we were scheduled for take off was the day that the string began to quiver. It was as if my heart knew the excitement it was about to endure and it was vibrating with so much energy, that it made my string of fate vibrate too.
As my copilot and I boarded the craft, I saw them kiss the door before we stepped inside and shut it.
“What did you do that for?” I asked.
“It’s for good luck.” They replied. “My momma used to do it on our car before every trip we took. It may be childish and silly but I think we can all use some good luck right now.”
I stared at them with an incredulous look, but inside I was hoping it would give us a little luck too.
Once we made it out of the earth’s atmosphere, my emotions took control over me and I began to sob. I had a feeling that this mission was a death sentence but I still went on anyway. My co pilot looked concerned but instead of asking me questions, they pulled me close and just held me. It took me completely by surprise and made me feel very uncomfortable. But I let them hold me, despite how it made me feel because I felt like they needed it much more Than I did.
Weeks had passed and I seemed no closer to finding the end of my fate string. I had never followed a string of fate before so i didn’t know how long this journey would last. With all of the passing time I began to grow fond of my copilot. They had the energy of a child, and the mind of a warrior. They sang to their-self and danced when they thought i wasnt looking. They were so pure and full of joy that I could see how some people fall for those they are not fated to be with. If I could not see the strings of fate, not see that our strings didn’t align with each other, then I would’ve whole heartedly given into the love that I was starting to feel.
More days passed and I was ready to be back on earth. This trip was exhausting and I was starting to lose hope. We had gone too far for the craft’s distress radio to work and we were running low on fuel. My copilot wanted to continue the journey. They said they had a feeling that something was out there. And so did I. So we continued on our way, knowing that if we didn’t find something soon. We might not make it.
We were distraught when we finally ran out of fuel. We hoped that eventually we’d cross paths with a life form that could save us but it seemed like no one was coming.
Eventually we ran low on food and water and we were struggling to breathe. My copilot looked worse off that I did. And it was breaking my heart. As I stared into their honey colored eyes and they took their last deep breath I whispered the hardest words I have ever had to say.
My string of fate flashed a beautiful glowing red and unraveled to form a soft glow around my copilot.
And in that moment i knew that the strings of fate didn’t lead you to your soulmate they led you to where you were meant to be.
***Thank you if you made it this far. This is my first time writing a story so all feedback is welcomed and appreciated! I know there are a lot of grammatical errors and parts where the story doesn’t flow but I’m still mentally exhausted from my day. I hope y’all enjoy it! | Down there, behind two inches of spacecraft window glass and lots of empty space is Earth.
A blue ball dotted with clouds and some land.
That’s the place I grew up at. That’s where mom is, and where dad is. And Luna and Michael and Bobby Wright and Tim and Tommy and all the other friends I left behind. That’s where Folkton is. A small town in the middle of nothing, where I was born. I learned to crawl there. There, dad held my hands as I made my first steps across the viny tiles in our kitchen.
That slowly spinning blue ball is where Sandra Stone, my mother, taught me how to drive. And where I had my first car crash a month later. No one found out I drank too much that evening. My first crush went to middle school down there. Tracy Sorens. And so did the cruel kids who found out about it. Derek and Tracy, sitting on a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G. Teasing was devastating and I never talked to Tracy. I wonder if she had ever known how deeply in love I was with her.
Down there, covered in clouds, is a graveyard. One of many, but this one is special. Folkton Cemetary. Resting place of grandparents, their parents and their parents.
Down there is home and family roots and history.
And Tina, my best friend and the only one who knows the true reason I said yes when I was asked to join the crew of Elcano.
The red string points to Titan. My red string. It has always been pointing toward Titan. And finding what's on the other end is more important than anything else.
Tina was right, I am a weirdo.
“Derek! Ground control to Major Stone! Can you hear me, Major Stone?!”
“Jesus, Christ, John. Don’t yell into my headphones! You startled me.”
A head-up display slides down from the compartment above my seat.
“You looked dazed. Thought you were sleeping.”
The overhead round camera to the left of the screen clicks, its lens opens and closes as if trying to give me a wink. The screen turns on and the old man with messy grey hair and perfect teeth waves. And grins, as usual. As usual, he’s wearing a lab coat. Happy guy, John is. Batshit crazy, too. But brilliant.
“Hi, John. You know that there are rules against deliberately addressing me with the wrong rank.”
“Yeah, yeah, rules shmules. It’s the song, Derek. The song! You kids know nothing. Anyways, *Captian* Stone, this is John Dekker from ground control, requesting to talk to the communications officer of spaceship Elcano. Stop.” He chuckles. “Your SpaceBus arrives at the Poseidon in thirty minutes, which means that it’s time to go over the checklist. Elcano is docked at launch tube five--- Are you excited?”
“Huh? About what? Also---”
“The catapult, of course. The big cannon. Boom.” He spreads his hands and wiggles his fingers like a wound-up kid. “We’re gonna blast Elcano into space, all the way to Jupiter. You’ll be there in no time. Except, you’re not going to Jupiter, are you?”
The catapult is John’s brainchild. Crazy technology made possible by a somewhat crazy man. Eccentric. Just like the orbital launch tube filled carefully placed nuclear charges that propel the rocket straight into... Wherever.
I’m not supposed to know that we're going to Titan. Everything about the mission is secret, supposed to be disclosed only on a need to know basis. But Tina told me about Titan.
Because that’s where my red string points to.
“Maybe to Neptune, yeah?”
“I don’t know John, you tell me where Elcano is going to…”
“You’re a funny guy, Derek. The destination is secret. But we’re going to blast you *there*\---”
“John, I read the briefing about Poseidon’s Dekkerpults. They’re impressive.”
“Do you know that it took Cassini more than 6 years to reach Saturn? Of course, you do. You’ll be there in less than one. It’ll still take three years to come back, but oh well. No one is perfect. Anyways, checklist--- Aaahh, Poseidon! Isn’t she perfect? State of the art. The best orbital station I’ve ever built.” He twitches. “Digression. Anyway, checklist.”
A long bullet point list shows up on the left side of the screen. He was not kidding.
“You serious? Why are you doing the checklist? That’s Tina’s job.”
“Uhm... Yeah... Not anymore. She’s gone.” He shrugs.
“Gone? Like---”
”Like, she ain’t here no more. She quit, I think. She’s weird, don’t you think so? Anyway. Checklist. Screen. Focus.” He starts reading from the list “Before you disembark the SpaceBus---”
Crap. “Hey, do you think you can get her on the comms? I won’t be able to talk to her once I get on the Poseidon and I wanted to say bye.”
“Of course you won’t. No comms once you get on Poseidon. And no comms until you arrive *there*.” He moves closer to the camera so that only his eye is showing on the screen and winks. “Wherever *there* is. This is a secret mission, you know.”
He backs out and grins.
Quickly, he reads the first three bullet points, which basically boil down to ‘Do not leave the super-secret silver suitcase that is under your seat in the SpaceBus.’
“...and then, when you disembark the SpaceBus, you’ll be taken to the briefing room for a meet and greet and debriefing for the entire Elcano. Wha’? I don’t know her phone number! I can’t contact her.”
“Okay.” Good, he remembered. John’s mind works in mysterious ways. “I can send you Tina’s contact info.”
“No. I don’t have time for you two love-birds.”
“John---”
He rolls his eyes. “I have eyes, Derek. We have cameras in the astronaut training center complex. We see when our astronauts sneak out in the middle of the night and bang each other. Also, that fight you had the other day...” He shakes his head, frowns and growls like a dog.
Oh, God.
“Back in my days, they kicked astronauts from the program for fornicating while on duty.” He shrugs. “But these are different times I guess. That damn kid Bobby Wright! Little twat is in charge of the program and he changed everything. Except, he’s 6’5’’. But you know that. you know him, yeah? You all went to school together, right?” He clears his throat. “Folkton High Mafia!“
John leans forward again, his eye blinking on the screen. “But, honestly. I don’t care. You kids are young. Go with a bang.” He whispers and moves back. “Get it? Bang, bang! Catapult, yeah?”
Oh, Lord.
“So no. I can’t call her. Sorry.”
“Can you just tell her I’m sorry about the fight---”
“Whatever. You tell her. When you get *there*. I’m busy. And I don’t care about your visual impairment either. Bobby explained it all to me. Back to the checklist, ok?”
“My visual impairment? Bobby? What?”
John rolls his eyes. “The lines. Red lines connecting different peo--- *beings* in time and space. If it’s going to work out between the two, you see it as a red line, yeah? Otherwise, there’s no line. Which is maybe why you and Tina were never meant to be, yeah?”
The red strings. Yes. “No... I don’t know where you got that from John---”
“Bullshit. Bobby told me all about you, and he knows everything, including your line that points to Titan. Why do you think Bobby personally picked you to go on a mission to meet the aliens there?”
He freezes.
I blink.
Processing. What. He. Just. Revealed.
“John?”
Slowly, he lifts his index finger and bites his lower lip.
“Well, shit...”
​
/r/ZwhoWrites | |
[WP] Your entire life, you have been able to see the red strings of fate connecting people to their soulmates. Yours has always extended past the sky. Space travel has just became available, so you begin your search for your soulmate. | Most people believe that we only have one soulmate...
Those people would be wrong.
When I was younger, it was beautiful. Seeing these shiny red strings that everyone had flowing out of their chests. They looked like tinsel on a Christmas tree. Some strings seemed brighter than others. As if one connection could be stronger than another.
Watching people unknowingly walk by one of their soulmates was excruciating. Every day i watched the same man walk by a bench with a beautiful woman on it. Peacefully reading her book. Not once did he engage with her. I wanted to tell them that they were missing their chance, but even at a young age I knew it was dangerous to mess with fate.
As I got older, it lost all it’s majesty.
I noticed my parents weren’t connected by a thread. So It was no surprise to me when they inevitably divorced.
I began to notice the amount of strings people had too. Some had many and others had very few. It felt unfair and sadistic that some people weren’t given as many chances at love as others.
For as long as I can remember, I’ve only had 10 strings. 9 of these strings stretch outward toward the horizon. And one reaches straight up. So high that it disappears. It’s
My brightest one, my truest love, that I am destined never to meet.
The first time I lost one I didn’t understand what was happening.
My second brightest string lost all of its warmth. The luster that once shown proudly from the string was diminished. I stared at it for hours wondering what was happening. Slowly, I watched the thread unravel. As it went closer to my heart I couldn’t help but feel cheated. Cheated out of a love that would’ve brought tears to my eyes and warmth to my soul.
When it finally stopped at my heart, I said a little prayer that it would come back. The hope in my chest was burning like the final embers of a fire. Ready to slowly burn out.
That feeling of despair that I felt when the last piece of string fell gently towards the ground is something that will haunt me forever.
That night, I clung tightly to my pillow. stifling my pain filled wails, as not to wake my mother.praying to a god that I wasn’t even sure was listening anymore.
My brightest love that was here on earth was gone and I was stuck with the pain of knowing, but never knowing why.
As the others began to unravel I was a little more prepared. They happened at random times on random days. Once I woke up and noticed that one of the strings had just no longer existed. It crept away in the middle of the night. Like a one night stand too ashamed to face the light of the day.
Each one was more painful than the last. Knowing that I was losing something but not knowing what I’ve lost or why I’ve lost it is the most heartbreaking thing I haveexperienced
Left with only one string of fate on this earth, I began to feel helpless.
On the day I lost my final earthly string, I gave up on love completely.
I never kept anyone in my life permanently. I lost myself in the endless nights with temporary people. Sometimes they fell in love with me but I never had the pleasure of falling back. Always knowing in the back of my mind that nothing could ever be fulfilling for me. Nothing except the one red string that I will never be able to follow. Destined to never know the feeling of deep intimacy.
While the years passed and I drowned myself in the peaks valleys of others bodies. New advances were being made in technology. Cars were flying and less people were dying and someone was working on a way to travel in deep space.
No one dared to be a part of that project. Ads were taken out in newspapers and commercials were blasted on every news station.
They needed a pilot for an outer space aircraft and they needed one now.
I began to wonder if this was my chance. After all, I have nothing to lose.
The spark that was once a roaring fire within me came back to life. My tiny red string began glowing brighter than ever as hope returned to my heart.
I spent days negotiating with the team of scientists assigned to the project. I wanted full control over the craft so I could take it as far as I pleased. They were worried that it wouldn’t go further than our solar system and they didn’t want to take any chances. I finally agreed to their conditions and promised not to take it anywhere outside of our solar system.
In the coming weeks that I spent training, I couldn’t help but imagine the being that wasn’t of earth and was destined to be my true love. Would I be able to find them? How will we communicate? Every question I thought of would lead to 5 new questions. It made me anxious for what the future holds.
To get my mind off of things, I made small talk with my copilot. Everything was surface level between us. I preferred it that way and I think that they did too. I noticed that they only had one red string of fate. Just like me. Only they couldn’t see it and couldn’t know the pain that only came from having one string of fate.
The day we were scheduled for take off was the day that the string began to quiver. It was as if my heart knew the excitement it was about to endure and it was vibrating with so much energy, that it made my string of fate vibrate too.
As my copilot and I boarded the craft, I saw them kiss the door before we stepped inside and shut it.
“What did you do that for?” I asked.
“It’s for good luck.” They replied. “My momma used to do it on our car before every trip we took. It may be childish and silly but I think we can all use some good luck right now.”
I stared at them with an incredulous look, but inside I was hoping it would give us a little luck too.
Once we made it out of the earth’s atmosphere, my emotions took control over me and I began to sob. I had a feeling that this mission was a death sentence but I still went on anyway. My co pilot looked concerned but instead of asking me questions, they pulled me close and just held me. It took me completely by surprise and made me feel very uncomfortable. But I let them hold me, despite how it made me feel because I felt like they needed it much more Than I did.
Weeks had passed and I seemed no closer to finding the end of my fate string. I had never followed a string of fate before so i didn’t know how long this journey would last. With all of the passing time I began to grow fond of my copilot. They had the energy of a child, and the mind of a warrior. They sang to their-self and danced when they thought i wasnt looking. They were so pure and full of joy that I could see how some people fall for those they are not fated to be with. If I could not see the strings of fate, not see that our strings didn’t align with each other, then I would’ve whole heartedly given into the love that I was starting to feel.
More days passed and I was ready to be back on earth. This trip was exhausting and I was starting to lose hope. We had gone too far for the craft’s distress radio to work and we were running low on fuel. My copilot wanted to continue the journey. They said they had a feeling that something was out there. And so did I. So we continued on our way, knowing that if we didn’t find something soon. We might not make it.
We were distraught when we finally ran out of fuel. We hoped that eventually we’d cross paths with a life form that could save us but it seemed like no one was coming.
Eventually we ran low on food and water and we were struggling to breathe. My copilot looked worse off that I did. And it was breaking my heart. As I stared into their honey colored eyes and they took their last deep breath I whispered the hardest words I have ever had to say.
My string of fate flashed a beautiful glowing red and unraveled to form a soft glow around my copilot.
And in that moment i knew that the strings of fate didn’t lead you to your soulmate they led you to where you were meant to be.
***Thank you if you made it this far. This is my first time writing a story so all feedback is welcomed and appreciated! I know there are a lot of grammatical errors and parts where the story doesn’t flow but I’m still mentally exhausted from my day. I hope y’all enjoy it! | Something in me twinged. Maybe it was the thought of leaving everything I had ever known. Maybe it was the excitement of what lies ahead. Or maybe it was the hyperdrive kicking in and pulling the ship through reality at inhuman speeds.
I may never know.
For all of my life I'd been looking towards the sky. The red string of fate that ties two people together, soulmates bound. Was real. Some found a way to see it. Some are gifted. Some never had to, because they knew all along who they belonged with.
I was cursed. Or blessed. I could see the strings from birth… I think. I can't remember that far back. But it turns out if I squint real hard and shake my head juuust right.. everyone has a scarlet cord tied from their heart to the heart of the person would best suit them.
Once I'd figured out what the hell that was I was horrified to discover that my string, lead to the sky.
At first I thought they were dead, like up in heaven or the clouds or something. Then maybe they were in an airplane… all the time. Whatever a kid could reason it away with. Until intelligent life was found out there.
I was 12 when I found out that aliens did exist. And suddenly I really wished my soulmate was just dead. (I didn't want to think my soulmate was a ball of goo or something.)
That didn't stop me from wondering. As I grew up I couldn't stand dating anyone and just keeping them away from their soulmate. Well, after years of being other people's matchmaker wore me down I finally wanted to find my soulmate… Even if they were just a ball of goo.
They? Xe? It? What pronouns would I use for a different species? Such thoughts and memories ran through my mind as I got closer to my goal.
Once earth had allied peacefully with the other life in our universe there began a training program for a diplomatic exploration team. I was too young for that first group. My heart ached as I watched the news cover their last steps on our planet. I needed to be out there.
The next drafting opportunity I did whatever I could to get in. I'll do anything, go anywhere! I've got to see why my soulmate isn't on Earth.
Who are you? I asked the imaginary alien in my head. Over and over. Multiple limbs? Eyes? Gills? What? I needed to know.. As it turns out I wasn't the only one on my team who could see it. Soon they all were curious as to what lies for me out there.
Soon I'd find out. A siren blaring brought me back to the present as we dropped out of hyperspeed and began cruising for the station. Once I was free to move I shook my head. Where did the string lead? Was it up? Out? Was I closer?
A thin red string wavered into being, forwards and slightly to the left. I'm on my way.
I asked around, what was in that direction? "Uncharted space" they told me. No one had gone out there yet. How lucky of me to be one of the first to venture out into the unknown.
With conversation we all agreed to follow my string, something had to be at the end right? The excitement built as I felt it getting closer. Slowly slowly. Imagine my excitement, which was probably palpable as we discovered a galaxy with signs of life. I couldn't breathe when we found the end of my string to be on an earth-oid planet.
Imagine my impatience mirrored by the faces around me as we monitored the planet below. Which of those species was sentient? Which of those species could my soulmate be?
Imagine my joy, immeasurable as we slowly flew to the surface, flocks of multi-winged creatures flew beside us, studying us back.
Imagine my glee when we approached civilization.
Imagine my confusion when there was no one around.
Imagine my fear as the end of my string met the barrel of a gun.
Imagine my pain as I realized I'd never meet my soulmate. If I die at their feet. | |
[WP] Your entire life, you have been able to see the red strings of fate connecting people to their soulmates. Yours has always extended past the sky. Space travel has just became available, so you begin your search for your soulmate. | Most people believe that we only have one soulmate...
Those people would be wrong.
When I was younger, it was beautiful. Seeing these shiny red strings that everyone had flowing out of their chests. They looked like tinsel on a Christmas tree. Some strings seemed brighter than others. As if one connection could be stronger than another.
Watching people unknowingly walk by one of their soulmates was excruciating. Every day i watched the same man walk by a bench with a beautiful woman on it. Peacefully reading her book. Not once did he engage with her. I wanted to tell them that they were missing their chance, but even at a young age I knew it was dangerous to mess with fate.
As I got older, it lost all it’s majesty.
I noticed my parents weren’t connected by a thread. So It was no surprise to me when they inevitably divorced.
I began to notice the amount of strings people had too. Some had many and others had very few. It felt unfair and sadistic that some people weren’t given as many chances at love as others.
For as long as I can remember, I’ve only had 10 strings. 9 of these strings stretch outward toward the horizon. And one reaches straight up. So high that it disappears. It’s
My brightest one, my truest love, that I am destined never to meet.
The first time I lost one I didn’t understand what was happening.
My second brightest string lost all of its warmth. The luster that once shown proudly from the string was diminished. I stared at it for hours wondering what was happening. Slowly, I watched the thread unravel. As it went closer to my heart I couldn’t help but feel cheated. Cheated out of a love that would’ve brought tears to my eyes and warmth to my soul.
When it finally stopped at my heart, I said a little prayer that it would come back. The hope in my chest was burning like the final embers of a fire. Ready to slowly burn out.
That feeling of despair that I felt when the last piece of string fell gently towards the ground is something that will haunt me forever.
That night, I clung tightly to my pillow. stifling my pain filled wails, as not to wake my mother.praying to a god that I wasn’t even sure was listening anymore.
My brightest love that was here on earth was gone and I was stuck with the pain of knowing, but never knowing why.
As the others began to unravel I was a little more prepared. They happened at random times on random days. Once I woke up and noticed that one of the strings had just no longer existed. It crept away in the middle of the night. Like a one night stand too ashamed to face the light of the day.
Each one was more painful than the last. Knowing that I was losing something but not knowing what I’ve lost or why I’ve lost it is the most heartbreaking thing I haveexperienced
Left with only one string of fate on this earth, I began to feel helpless.
On the day I lost my final earthly string, I gave up on love completely.
I never kept anyone in my life permanently. I lost myself in the endless nights with temporary people. Sometimes they fell in love with me but I never had the pleasure of falling back. Always knowing in the back of my mind that nothing could ever be fulfilling for me. Nothing except the one red string that I will never be able to follow. Destined to never know the feeling of deep intimacy.
While the years passed and I drowned myself in the peaks valleys of others bodies. New advances were being made in technology. Cars were flying and less people were dying and someone was working on a way to travel in deep space.
No one dared to be a part of that project. Ads were taken out in newspapers and commercials were blasted on every news station.
They needed a pilot for an outer space aircraft and they needed one now.
I began to wonder if this was my chance. After all, I have nothing to lose.
The spark that was once a roaring fire within me came back to life. My tiny red string began glowing brighter than ever as hope returned to my heart.
I spent days negotiating with the team of scientists assigned to the project. I wanted full control over the craft so I could take it as far as I pleased. They were worried that it wouldn’t go further than our solar system and they didn’t want to take any chances. I finally agreed to their conditions and promised not to take it anywhere outside of our solar system.
In the coming weeks that I spent training, I couldn’t help but imagine the being that wasn’t of earth and was destined to be my true love. Would I be able to find them? How will we communicate? Every question I thought of would lead to 5 new questions. It made me anxious for what the future holds.
To get my mind off of things, I made small talk with my copilot. Everything was surface level between us. I preferred it that way and I think that they did too. I noticed that they only had one red string of fate. Just like me. Only they couldn’t see it and couldn’t know the pain that only came from having one string of fate.
The day we were scheduled for take off was the day that the string began to quiver. It was as if my heart knew the excitement it was about to endure and it was vibrating with so much energy, that it made my string of fate vibrate too.
As my copilot and I boarded the craft, I saw them kiss the door before we stepped inside and shut it.
“What did you do that for?” I asked.
“It’s for good luck.” They replied. “My momma used to do it on our car before every trip we took. It may be childish and silly but I think we can all use some good luck right now.”
I stared at them with an incredulous look, but inside I was hoping it would give us a little luck too.
Once we made it out of the earth’s atmosphere, my emotions took control over me and I began to sob. I had a feeling that this mission was a death sentence but I still went on anyway. My co pilot looked concerned but instead of asking me questions, they pulled me close and just held me. It took me completely by surprise and made me feel very uncomfortable. But I let them hold me, despite how it made me feel because I felt like they needed it much more Than I did.
Weeks had passed and I seemed no closer to finding the end of my fate string. I had never followed a string of fate before so i didn’t know how long this journey would last. With all of the passing time I began to grow fond of my copilot. They had the energy of a child, and the mind of a warrior. They sang to their-self and danced when they thought i wasnt looking. They were so pure and full of joy that I could see how some people fall for those they are not fated to be with. If I could not see the strings of fate, not see that our strings didn’t align with each other, then I would’ve whole heartedly given into the love that I was starting to feel.
More days passed and I was ready to be back on earth. This trip was exhausting and I was starting to lose hope. We had gone too far for the craft’s distress radio to work and we were running low on fuel. My copilot wanted to continue the journey. They said they had a feeling that something was out there. And so did I. So we continued on our way, knowing that if we didn’t find something soon. We might not make it.
We were distraught when we finally ran out of fuel. We hoped that eventually we’d cross paths with a life form that could save us but it seemed like no one was coming.
Eventually we ran low on food and water and we were struggling to breathe. My copilot looked worse off that I did. And it was breaking my heart. As I stared into their honey colored eyes and they took their last deep breath I whispered the hardest words I have ever had to say.
My string of fate flashed a beautiful glowing red and unraveled to form a soft glow around my copilot.
And in that moment i knew that the strings of fate didn’t lead you to your soulmate they led you to where you were meant to be.
***Thank you if you made it this far. This is my first time writing a story so all feedback is welcomed and appreciated! I know there are a lot of grammatical errors and parts where the story doesn’t flow but I’m still mentally exhausted from my day. I hope y’all enjoy it! | People call me "Matcher", and I am the best at what I do.
I've had this ability forever, or I assume forever because I dont remember not having it. I just didnt know what it was until I was about 14, yeah I think I was 14.
It all happened at the end of junior highschool when I started to try to introduce two friends that had this weird temporal light that connected them and I was the only one that could see it. And it didnt take much doing but i soon realized they were a perfect relationship match. After 5 or 6 "couples" that I introduced to eachother word got out and by the time I was finished with highschool I was running what you could call a black market relationship shop.
People paid alot of money to match them with what I figured was their soul mate. So people always think that the perfect match for them could be on the opposite side of the world, I mean what kind of thinking is that. Someone around the world has the exact interests and chemistry that you have, pfft bogus. People dont realize that the ones around them alot of times have the greatest chance of being a match, they live in the same area so their hobbies and experiences and interests are likely the same. With a few exceptions of course.
And of course I was one of those exeptions, mine always led to the east. And so naturally I used my matching skills and renown to scratch what money I could get, and the chase was on. You see my "match" obviously was adventurous because she never stayed in place, always going from country to country doing cool things. And I could never catch up to her, I started to get very depressed and lonely. You see this whole time I have been matching people and people paid good money to take me with them on their hunt for their one and only. But everyone kept asking "so matcher where is your soul mate", I always tried to play it off as if she was back home waiting for my return but that got harder and harder to do.
Then one day about 7 years ago my temporal red beacon that I had been chasing for so long was so close to me. I was in Texas one day and all the sudden bam my red beacon flashed before me and then I noticed it was pointing up, straight up like into the middle of the big blue sky. At first I was frustrated thinking oh shit she got a plane and flew off like so many times before. But not this time, this time the red line didnt flow through the sky it just stayed pointing straight up.
I was really worried searching for every clue thinking maybe she died and she is now in heaven, but I've never seen anyone else's red light lead to heaven. I dug and dug, no records of anything happening could be found. The only spaceflights that occurred that day have all returned to earth and I waited those days eagerly thinking I would be lucky enough to be a match for an astronaut. But none of them were my beacon, none were the one that could hopefully someday make me whole.
Today however after much trouble, lying, lawbreaking, and sneaking. I have solved the mystery of my mystery women, it all happened 7 years ago. There was an unlogged secret space flight of a spacecraft that could travel the speed of light, of course the government couldnt make this public knowledge. Well I found out about it and my heart still has hope that she is out there.
You see NASA lost communication and all traces of that space craft, so naturally they figured the expirement had failed. But it couldnt have because my red light still pointed towards her. So I have to go get her.
I have found someone who has a vessel that will help me find my true match. And we are to leave tomorrow. I dont know what we will find or where we will go but I cant wait to finally meet her.
Day one: the launch is today, and I have found her name in a government file that I paid alot of money for someone to steal for me. Her name is Kim.
Kim you dont know me and I dont know you. But I'm coming to help, I'm coming to save you wherever you might be. We are destined for eachother. | |
[WP] Your entire life, you have been able to see the red strings of fate connecting people to their soulmates. Yours has always extended past the sky. Space travel has just became available, so you begin your search for your soulmate. | All right, I'm doing this. Yes, I'm actually continuing [my story from 3.5 years ago](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/4wdpkr/wp_after_gaining_the_ability_to_see_everyones_red/), exactly as predicted by u/zarduma in [this comment](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/4wdpkr/wp_after_gaining_the_ability_to_see_everyones_red/d66j529?utm_source=share&utm_medium=web2x). I'd love to say he was right all along, but... truth be told u/vladvlad23 was right in [this comment](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/4wdpkr/wp_after_gaining_the_ability_to_see_everyones_red/d66h80u?utm_source=share&utm_medium=web2x); I had planned to leave it open-ended. Unfortunately...this continuation has been stuck in my head for three and a half years anyway, and here's a perfect post to respond to. So it's time to get it out. Here goes ruining a good thing!
And I pick up where I left off, so you might need to go back and read [the first two parts.](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/4wdpkr/wp_after_gaining_the_ability_to_see_everyones_red/)
\----
“Second stage cutoff in three...two...one...cut. Systems nominal.”
The sudden silence and stillness of free-fall, after the chaos of launch, was as startling as a gunshot in a library - just in reverse. With no gravity, turbulence, or noise from within the ship, there was only the sense of sight, focused on the view outside. The craft’s window had seemed uselessly small at launch, like riding a roller-coaster with a sack over my head – but in orbit, with my face pressed against the glass, the entire spaceship seemed to melt away behind me.
For the first time in my life, my sight stayed completely sight. No sounds, tastes, or textures intruded on my perspective. It was just me and this mostly-blue oblate spheroid, turning slowly beneath me. I felt, for a moment anyway, like a newborn taking it’s first look at its mother. And, I’m only a little ashamed to admit that, like an infant I cried.
That brought an end to the moment, as tears in microgravity are a much greater nuisance than on Earth. By the time I got my ducts under control, the ship’s ducts had begun blowing to circulate air, and various of the ship’s chimes, alerts, and indicators were chiming, alerting, and indicating. Sights, sounds, and scents were again bleeding over one another, casting a cheerful note and flowery smell over the curving horizon outside.
“RRS-21, this is ISS. We have your trajectory from NORAD. Great launch, see you in a few. I hope you remembered the beer.”
A “few” turned out to be around nine hours, and the constant adjustments on approach made even Grampa Jame’s three point turns, which had an extra 297 points thrown in for caution, seem hurried. The “curb” bump of docking was about the same, though.
“Surprise!” was not what I was expecting to hear when the air lock finally opened – which I suppose made it an accurate exclamation.
“Welcome!”
“The guest of honor is here!”
“Did the Svaty remember beer?”
The greetings as they pulled me through the air lock were as chaotic and welcoming as any party, except that they came from “up” and “down” as much as any other direction.
“Don’t forget your hat” said a woman as she tied a classical conical party topper to my head. When finished, she winked and pushed off, sending me spinning towards a tall man with a conservative hair cut.
“Howdy!” he said, as he caught me with a firm handshake, arresting my movement as if it were a natural part of the greeting. “I’m commander Hauck, and I’m head cat-herder of this crew.” His voice lacked any trace of accent, and he was the only one not wearing a conical hat.
“He did bring beer!” came a voice from behind me, thick with Russian accent. It's owner began passing out drink pouches from one of the supply crates that had come up with me. This was followed by a round of alternating gratitudes and complaints about the beer’s temperature that seemed strikingly mundane, considering the surroundings.
The combination arrival/sending off party ranged all over the station, as various crew members introduced me to the modules they specialized in. It was like a bar crawl through a dozen camper vans stuffed with high-tech equipment:
"This Zvesta-Two, Service module for station. It break, and you hope you can hold your breath a long time." Said Pyotr Aleksandr, in what I was quickly coming to understand was his typical boisterousness. He had been the one to hand out the drinks. "So far that only happen twice. Solid Russian engineering." His thick accent carried a tangible weight in my senses, like an equally heavy blanket.
"We monitor every detail about the Earth's biosphere from this station in the Espoir module" - Mallorie Lyon's English pronunciations were better than my own, but I was pretty sure the thunder clouds in her eyes weren't my synesthesia.
"...and with the interferometer in a trailing orbit, we can resolve details on the moon less than forty centimeters" said Yin, with all his previous technical explanations of the Shìlì module he oversaw going well over my head.
"This way, partner, to the good ol' US of A side." Hauk's use of Texas slang, without any hint of drawl, was still disconcerting. "Here we mostly turn billions of tax dollars into drinkable water."
"Don't listen to him" quipped Pyotr, with a good natured back slap that sent me into a slow spin. "It's mostly urine we convert."
"By weight, it's more dollars, I'm afraid. But as long as I'm up here, they can't send me a water bill. Unless you brought it?" Hauk eyed me with faux suspicion, before helping to stop my spin
"How was your trip up?" asked Yin, as the room suddenly turned silent. I opened my mouth to speak, but suddenly couldn't find any words. Just before the silence drew into awkwardness, everyone laughed at once.
"That happens to all of us" said Hauk.
"Language is fine for describing shared experiences" said Yin. "But accelerating on a building full of explosives until you are falling around the Earth is just too far outside the standard parameters of our lives. We just don't have sufficient words."
"What about 'Thundering?'" I suggested, a faint warmness in my cheeks that could have been either synesthesia or the alcohol.
Yin thought for a moment. "Yes, but not the way most people mean it. They usually mean 'that sound you sometimes hear during a storm that interrupts the tv.' If you go with a more atavistic definition - like 'that terrifying reminder of unthinkably powerful forces that seem so forever beyond the reach of apes who so recently harnessed fire' - in that case, I think it works fine."
It was a sobering thought, and I took another pull from my squeeze bottle drink to compensate. It might have been a mistake to do so - for long before I felt I should have been, I was drunk. Which is no fun in zero gravity for anyone, and even less fun if you happen to be someone for whom the smell of vomit feels like ants crawling on your skin.
I noticed, as I filled my third bag, that not only was no one else drunk, but they seemed to flip almost instantly between boisterous party-goers and sober engineers. One minute Pyotr was roaring with laughter, the next, checking environmental readouts as if he'd been doing it all day long.
Hauk seemed to read my mind, and said "It's hard, sharing a tin can with other people. You can't step outside for air if they're rubbing you the wrong way - there's no air to be found. So we sort of adopt stereotype personalities, as a bit of a psychological shield. The rowdy Russian. The studious Chinese. The outgoing Texan. A few weeks up here, and putting on the personality as natural as getting dressed in the morning. If you were staying, you would probably find a new personality to wear too."
"What about Mallorie?" I asked, noting the crew member left off his list of stereotypes. His grin seemed genuine.
"That one, you'll have to work out for yourself."
\---- | It's always been there. That red line pointing skyward. I know what it is, don't get me wrong, I see them on everyone; the line that links them to their soulmate. Whenever I bring it up people look at me weird, so I don't do that anymore, clearly I'm the only one that can see it. But mine has always pointed off into the stars.
I tried to get a transport to find my soulmate, but every attempt led to the wrong place, my line always went elsewhere. It was clear to me I would have to make the journey myself if I was to get there at all. It took years, years of flying, enforcing the law, running search and rescue, just trying to get noticed. But I'm there now. They finally found me worthy, and now I have a ship of my own.
After some odd jobs and a little vigilante justice meted out, I'm ready. My ships equipped, everything I need to dive into the deepest black. Just need to find which way to go... there. That star is in range. Not quite lined up with my line, but it's in the right direction. One step at a time. Time to finally find my soulmate.
"Frameshift Drive charging." | |
[WP] Your entire life, you have been able to see the red strings of fate connecting people to their soulmates. Yours has always extended past the sky. Space travel has just became available, so you begin your search for your soulmate. | All right, I'm doing this. Yes, I'm actually continuing [my story from 3.5 years ago](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/4wdpkr/wp_after_gaining_the_ability_to_see_everyones_red/), exactly as predicted by u/zarduma in [this comment](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/4wdpkr/wp_after_gaining_the_ability_to_see_everyones_red/d66j529?utm_source=share&utm_medium=web2x). I'd love to say he was right all along, but... truth be told u/vladvlad23 was right in [this comment](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/4wdpkr/wp_after_gaining_the_ability_to_see_everyones_red/d66h80u?utm_source=share&utm_medium=web2x); I had planned to leave it open-ended. Unfortunately...this continuation has been stuck in my head for three and a half years anyway, and here's a perfect post to respond to. So it's time to get it out. Here goes ruining a good thing!
And I pick up where I left off, so you might need to go back and read [the first two parts.](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/4wdpkr/wp_after_gaining_the_ability_to_see_everyones_red/)
\----
“Second stage cutoff in three...two...one...cut. Systems nominal.”
The sudden silence and stillness of free-fall, after the chaos of launch, was as startling as a gunshot in a library - just in reverse. With no gravity, turbulence, or noise from within the ship, there was only the sense of sight, focused on the view outside. The craft’s window had seemed uselessly small at launch, like riding a roller-coaster with a sack over my head – but in orbit, with my face pressed against the glass, the entire spaceship seemed to melt away behind me.
For the first time in my life, my sight stayed completely sight. No sounds, tastes, or textures intruded on my perspective. It was just me and this mostly-blue oblate spheroid, turning slowly beneath me. I felt, for a moment anyway, like a newborn taking it’s first look at its mother. And, I’m only a little ashamed to admit that, like an infant I cried.
That brought an end to the moment, as tears in microgravity are a much greater nuisance than on Earth. By the time I got my ducts under control, the ship’s ducts had begun blowing to circulate air, and various of the ship’s chimes, alerts, and indicators were chiming, alerting, and indicating. Sights, sounds, and scents were again bleeding over one another, casting a cheerful note and flowery smell over the curving horizon outside.
“RRS-21, this is ISS. We have your trajectory from NORAD. Great launch, see you in a few. I hope you remembered the beer.”
A “few” turned out to be around nine hours, and the constant adjustments on approach made even Grampa Jame’s three point turns, which had an extra 297 points thrown in for caution, seem hurried. The “curb” bump of docking was about the same, though.
“Surprise!” was not what I was expecting to hear when the air lock finally opened – which I suppose made it an accurate exclamation.
“Welcome!”
“The guest of honor is here!”
“Did the Svaty remember beer?”
The greetings as they pulled me through the air lock were as chaotic and welcoming as any party, except that they came from “up” and “down” as much as any other direction.
“Don’t forget your hat” said a woman as she tied a classical conical party topper to my head. When finished, she winked and pushed off, sending me spinning towards a tall man with a conservative hair cut.
“Howdy!” he said, as he caught me with a firm handshake, arresting my movement as if it were a natural part of the greeting. “I’m commander Hauck, and I’m head cat-herder of this crew.” His voice lacked any trace of accent, and he was the only one not wearing a conical hat.
“He did bring beer!” came a voice from behind me, thick with Russian accent. It's owner began passing out drink pouches from one of the supply crates that had come up with me. This was followed by a round of alternating gratitudes and complaints about the beer’s temperature that seemed strikingly mundane, considering the surroundings.
The combination arrival/sending off party ranged all over the station, as various crew members introduced me to the modules they specialized in. It was like a bar crawl through a dozen camper vans stuffed with high-tech equipment:
"This Zvesta-Two, Service module for station. It break, and you hope you can hold your breath a long time." Said Pyotr Aleksandr, in what I was quickly coming to understand was his typical boisterousness. He had been the one to hand out the drinks. "So far that only happen twice. Solid Russian engineering." His thick accent carried a tangible weight in my senses, like an equally heavy blanket.
"We monitor every detail about the Earth's biosphere from this station in the Espoir module" - Mallorie Lyon's English pronunciations were better than my own, but I was pretty sure the thunder clouds in her eyes weren't my synesthesia.
"...and with the interferometer in a trailing orbit, we can resolve details on the moon less than forty centimeters" said Yin, with all his previous technical explanations of the Shìlì module he oversaw going well over my head.
"This way, partner, to the good ol' US of A side." Hauk's use of Texas slang, without any hint of drawl, was still disconcerting. "Here we mostly turn billions of tax dollars into drinkable water."
"Don't listen to him" quipped Pyotr, with a good natured back slap that sent me into a slow spin. "It's mostly urine we convert."
"By weight, it's more dollars, I'm afraid. But as long as I'm up here, they can't send me a water bill. Unless you brought it?" Hauk eyed me with faux suspicion, before helping to stop my spin
"How was your trip up?" asked Yin, as the room suddenly turned silent. I opened my mouth to speak, but suddenly couldn't find any words. Just before the silence drew into awkwardness, everyone laughed at once.
"That happens to all of us" said Hauk.
"Language is fine for describing shared experiences" said Yin. "But accelerating on a building full of explosives until you are falling around the Earth is just too far outside the standard parameters of our lives. We just don't have sufficient words."
"What about 'Thundering?'" I suggested, a faint warmness in my cheeks that could have been either synesthesia or the alcohol.
Yin thought for a moment. "Yes, but not the way most people mean it. They usually mean 'that sound you sometimes hear during a storm that interrupts the tv.' If you go with a more atavistic definition - like 'that terrifying reminder of unthinkably powerful forces that seem so forever beyond the reach of apes who so recently harnessed fire' - in that case, I think it works fine."
It was a sobering thought, and I took another pull from my squeeze bottle drink to compensate. It might have been a mistake to do so - for long before I felt I should have been, I was drunk. Which is no fun in zero gravity for anyone, and even less fun if you happen to be someone for whom the smell of vomit feels like ants crawling on your skin.
I noticed, as I filled my third bag, that not only was no one else drunk, but they seemed to flip almost instantly between boisterous party-goers and sober engineers. One minute Pyotr was roaring with laughter, the next, checking environmental readouts as if he'd been doing it all day long.
Hauk seemed to read my mind, and said "It's hard, sharing a tin can with other people. You can't step outside for air if they're rubbing you the wrong way - there's no air to be found. So we sort of adopt stereotype personalities, as a bit of a psychological shield. The rowdy Russian. The studious Chinese. The outgoing Texan. A few weeks up here, and putting on the personality as natural as getting dressed in the morning. If you were staying, you would probably find a new personality to wear too."
"What about Mallorie?" I asked, noting the crew member left off his list of stereotypes. His grin seemed genuine.
"That one, you'll have to work out for yourself."
\---- | Well, I reckon it was about 20 years ago when that Neil fella took to the moon and beat the reds. Ever since then, Kennedy's kept up on his rockets and bing bang boom next thing you know Fords making rockets on the cheap.
Now I'm not here to tell that story, mine is much more interesting.
I was an odd boy, I'd always seen these thread lookin things connectin people, my ma'n pa hadn't, Grammy and pappy had'm, took me a while to figure out what they were for but I got it figured when my brother met his girl, the two were perfect together.
My string always ran long, in school they taught us this world was round. When I got my truck in me teens, I tried to run it down but after about 10 miles it lay flat on the ground. I kept goin figurin it was a hill but after an hour on the road it was still laying on the ground.
I figure that thing runs clean across the country, probly the ocean after that.
Now it was a few years later that the germans got a bit restless and went to war. I served my country, just like pa did, and pappy before him. They shipped me out to Europe towards the end of 44, Berlin if I recall. We'd heard over the air that the russians were breaking through about the same time, I guess you could say we had reinforcements.
A few weeks later I was in the mess and I saw my line started to move, and it kept moving, goin goin goin more than I ever saw in my life, pretty soon I heard a plane go over head. I ran outside to see and one of those slow flyin biplanes flew over with a big ol red star on the side. I run out after it as far as I could but pretty soon I ended up on the wrong side of a big ol tank with grey paint. It was high time to leave.
I was damn forlorn when I had to ship out cause I knew my love was somewhere over there but I figured I could save up for a trip. Pretty soon the reds put that sput-spit-sputter whatcha-callit in outer space and everyone went crazy, then they put some guy up there, said he used to be a pilot.
A few months after that, I saw my line was movin again and I was right terrified, I figure since my love was a pilot, and that line's movin so dog-gone quick she must be up there in one of those baseball lookin death traps. I jumped in my truck, ran out and got some chicken wire, spread it across the yard and I plugged my HAM radio up in there and worked it like an antenna. It was real faint but I could hear a voice, kinda shrill and speakin real fast, panicky too. It was about that time by line was overhead. I followed it and I could see this movin star that was glowin red hot. I gotta admit I screamed. I didnt have no telescope but what i did have was my gun, and it had a scope. So i ran inside and grabbed it. By this time i could see it was lookin like a comet, coming pretty damn close. I looked through my gun and I could make out the capsule!
I got back in my truck and tried to work out where it would hit. I was keeping pace with it, it felt like forever and I was dodgin deer left right and center.
It was about this time i heard the woosh, the pop and the flap of that chute. I'd know that sound anywhere, they dropped us on that city from them skytrain. I put my foot through the floor, come up off the shoulder sprayin pine cones, rocks and boulders and I got over there right quick. The thing was just a glowin red and boiling with heat. I could hear her poundin on the walls but there's no way I was gettin her out there without a good singe myself. A few minutes went by and it was cool enough so I grabbed my lug wrench and gave that lid a good heave ho.
Now I tell you more than a few things have got the better of my wits in my lifetime but non like nina here, I popped that thing open and she jumped out, tackled me to the ground and had that lug wrench before I could blink. Of course I was scared stiff but she saw I weren't a threat an she layed off me. I tried to talk but she started diggin around in that capsule and pulled out one of them dictionary books and we tried talking it out.
After she calmed down a bit and I got up, I saw she was the most beautiful woman I'd ever seen in my life, and I knew that string was right. Of course the suits were on us within days and were much nicer fellas than you'd think. But in that time we got to knowin each other, we started working like a couple. The Feds, they gave her a cover story, citizenship and all the documents.
After a few weeks of classes, security things and questions they sent her back to me, we continued datin, and things went the way God intended, we married when that glen Allen guy was orbiting.
The reds weren't happy that the US figured out what happened to their capsule when they couldnt but ultimately they knew their stuff was iffy.
Nowadays we just live here, middle of nowhere doin honest work, Nina gets hush money from the government and we can live pretty damn well on it for the rest of our lives. To tell you the truth boy I never thought I'd get to see her, and I never would had if it weren't for these string things.
Now your Grandpa doesnt remember a time when he couldnt see'm, Boy, but I dont remember anything before I was 10 either so I hope you get your lines, and that it helps you like it did me | |
[WP] Your entire life, you have been able to see the red strings of fate connecting people to their soulmates. Yours has always extended past the sky. Space travel has just became available, so you begin your search for your soulmate. | All right, I'm doing this. Yes, I'm actually continuing [my story from 3.5 years ago](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/4wdpkr/wp_after_gaining_the_ability_to_see_everyones_red/), exactly as predicted by u/zarduma in [this comment](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/4wdpkr/wp_after_gaining_the_ability_to_see_everyones_red/d66j529?utm_source=share&utm_medium=web2x). I'd love to say he was right all along, but... truth be told u/vladvlad23 was right in [this comment](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/4wdpkr/wp_after_gaining_the_ability_to_see_everyones_red/d66h80u?utm_source=share&utm_medium=web2x); I had planned to leave it open-ended. Unfortunately...this continuation has been stuck in my head for three and a half years anyway, and here's a perfect post to respond to. So it's time to get it out. Here goes ruining a good thing!
And I pick up where I left off, so you might need to go back and read [the first two parts.](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/4wdpkr/wp_after_gaining_the_ability_to_see_everyones_red/)
\----
“Second stage cutoff in three...two...one...cut. Systems nominal.”
The sudden silence and stillness of free-fall, after the chaos of launch, was as startling as a gunshot in a library - just in reverse. With no gravity, turbulence, or noise from within the ship, there was only the sense of sight, focused on the view outside. The craft’s window had seemed uselessly small at launch, like riding a roller-coaster with a sack over my head – but in orbit, with my face pressed against the glass, the entire spaceship seemed to melt away behind me.
For the first time in my life, my sight stayed completely sight. No sounds, tastes, or textures intruded on my perspective. It was just me and this mostly-blue oblate spheroid, turning slowly beneath me. I felt, for a moment anyway, like a newborn taking it’s first look at its mother. And, I’m only a little ashamed to admit that, like an infant I cried.
That brought an end to the moment, as tears in microgravity are a much greater nuisance than on Earth. By the time I got my ducts under control, the ship’s ducts had begun blowing to circulate air, and various of the ship’s chimes, alerts, and indicators were chiming, alerting, and indicating. Sights, sounds, and scents were again bleeding over one another, casting a cheerful note and flowery smell over the curving horizon outside.
“RRS-21, this is ISS. We have your trajectory from NORAD. Great launch, see you in a few. I hope you remembered the beer.”
A “few” turned out to be around nine hours, and the constant adjustments on approach made even Grampa Jame’s three point turns, which had an extra 297 points thrown in for caution, seem hurried. The “curb” bump of docking was about the same, though.
“Surprise!” was not what I was expecting to hear when the air lock finally opened – which I suppose made it an accurate exclamation.
“Welcome!”
“The guest of honor is here!”
“Did the Svaty remember beer?”
The greetings as they pulled me through the air lock were as chaotic and welcoming as any party, except that they came from “up” and “down” as much as any other direction.
“Don’t forget your hat” said a woman as she tied a classical conical party topper to my head. When finished, she winked and pushed off, sending me spinning towards a tall man with a conservative hair cut.
“Howdy!” he said, as he caught me with a firm handshake, arresting my movement as if it were a natural part of the greeting. “I’m commander Hauck, and I’m head cat-herder of this crew.” His voice lacked any trace of accent, and he was the only one not wearing a conical hat.
“He did bring beer!” came a voice from behind me, thick with Russian accent. It's owner began passing out drink pouches from one of the supply crates that had come up with me. This was followed by a round of alternating gratitudes and complaints about the beer’s temperature that seemed strikingly mundane, considering the surroundings.
The combination arrival/sending off party ranged all over the station, as various crew members introduced me to the modules they specialized in. It was like a bar crawl through a dozen camper vans stuffed with high-tech equipment:
"This Zvesta-Two, Service module for station. It break, and you hope you can hold your breath a long time." Said Pyotr Aleksandr, in what I was quickly coming to understand was his typical boisterousness. He had been the one to hand out the drinks. "So far that only happen twice. Solid Russian engineering." His thick accent carried a tangible weight in my senses, like an equally heavy blanket.
"We monitor every detail about the Earth's biosphere from this station in the Espoir module" - Mallorie Lyon's English pronunciations were better than my own, but I was pretty sure the thunder clouds in her eyes weren't my synesthesia.
"...and with the interferometer in a trailing orbit, we can resolve details on the moon less than forty centimeters" said Yin, with all his previous technical explanations of the Shìlì module he oversaw going well over my head.
"This way, partner, to the good ol' US of A side." Hauk's use of Texas slang, without any hint of drawl, was still disconcerting. "Here we mostly turn billions of tax dollars into drinkable water."
"Don't listen to him" quipped Pyotr, with a good natured back slap that sent me into a slow spin. "It's mostly urine we convert."
"By weight, it's more dollars, I'm afraid. But as long as I'm up here, they can't send me a water bill. Unless you brought it?" Hauk eyed me with faux suspicion, before helping to stop my spin
"How was your trip up?" asked Yin, as the room suddenly turned silent. I opened my mouth to speak, but suddenly couldn't find any words. Just before the silence drew into awkwardness, everyone laughed at once.
"That happens to all of us" said Hauk.
"Language is fine for describing shared experiences" said Yin. "But accelerating on a building full of explosives until you are falling around the Earth is just too far outside the standard parameters of our lives. We just don't have sufficient words."
"What about 'Thundering?'" I suggested, a faint warmness in my cheeks that could have been either synesthesia or the alcohol.
Yin thought for a moment. "Yes, but not the way most people mean it. They usually mean 'that sound you sometimes hear during a storm that interrupts the tv.' If you go with a more atavistic definition - like 'that terrifying reminder of unthinkably powerful forces that seem so forever beyond the reach of apes who so recently harnessed fire' - in that case, I think it works fine."
It was a sobering thought, and I took another pull from my squeeze bottle drink to compensate. It might have been a mistake to do so - for long before I felt I should have been, I was drunk. Which is no fun in zero gravity for anyone, and even less fun if you happen to be someone for whom the smell of vomit feels like ants crawling on your skin.
I noticed, as I filled my third bag, that not only was no one else drunk, but they seemed to flip almost instantly between boisterous party-goers and sober engineers. One minute Pyotr was roaring with laughter, the next, checking environmental readouts as if he'd been doing it all day long.
Hauk seemed to read my mind, and said "It's hard, sharing a tin can with other people. You can't step outside for air if they're rubbing you the wrong way - there's no air to be found. So we sort of adopt stereotype personalities, as a bit of a psychological shield. The rowdy Russian. The studious Chinese. The outgoing Texan. A few weeks up here, and putting on the personality as natural as getting dressed in the morning. If you were staying, you would probably find a new personality to wear too."
"What about Mallorie?" I asked, noting the crew member left off his list of stereotypes. His grin seemed genuine.
"That one, you'll have to work out for yourself."
\---- | Modern match-making is an extremely lucrative business if one is able to help those desperate for their soul mates to achieve their relentless search, you will be paid handsomely.
Neil had heard about the old Asian folklore, the "elder of the moon", who can sift through the intricately connected strings of fate and bring people who are meant for each other together. Though he had never envisioned himself to become one.
His long fingers held on to his own string, which stretches out into the sky. Neil's past space trips, the millions he paid to endure a rather uncomfortable week on the space stations had confirmed his suspicion, his soul mate was out there in the vast uncharted universe, he can see his destined lover is far away as his fate string stretches across the Andromeda galaxy and beyond.
"Are you sure you want to be one of those daredevils who purchased the first generation spacecraft in search of personal glory and wealth?" The woman sat across from Neil tapped her bony fingers on the dark coloured mahogany table, a cup of tea next to her knuckles steamed.
"Yeah, " Neil's voice is gentle, the woman had been his special someone, he nervously toyed with the ring on his middle finger, an almost identical one occupied her ring finger.
Her pupils were obviously dilated when she looked at Neil, who is almost certain his pupils are doing just the same. But because of his pursuit of pure love, he had ultimately decided to move on. The woman's string connected her to someone else.
"Yeah, everything is arranged, the moment I blast off from space you would be the sole beneficiary of all of my investments and funds."
She held out a finger, "I created my own wealth, why should I accept something that is thrown my way? Don't you know how much tax I will be subjected to?" She raised her eyebrows.
Neil reached across the table, but she withdrew. Her large blue eyes stared straight into Neil's, he gave a rather sheepish grin and sank back into his plush leather chair.
"Well, I did leave some of my DNA behind and if you ever wanted a child, you know, the technologies are highly advanced."
She rolled her eyes, but she suddenly leaned forward aggressively and grasped Neil's hands tightly.
"If so, then why don't you stay with me?" Her lilac perfume trickles across, Neil suddenly wanted to sneeze.
He held back the urge, the damned neurological or physiological impulse, his face flushed.
She handed him her handkerchief, Neil patted her hand, "Nah, I am good."
"What are you so afraid of?" Her clutch on Neil's hands was iron tight.
He tried to move away but she only pulled him closer.
"I am looking for my soul mate, " He offered, daring not to meet her eyes, "You know, I have a talent for that."
She let go.
"Fine, you can risk your neck all you want."
On the day of the blastoff, Neil tried to look down at the earth, the gathering storm clouds obscured his vision from the space elevator.
With a final salute to his country's flag, Neil stepped into his vessel and blasted off, becoming a freeman for the first time.
Who knows how many light-years had he travelled, through how many perils.
As he finally traced his string to a lonely planet, his heart inevitably thumped faster.
The descent was almost tranquil, aside from the groaning of his ageing ship.
Once on the ground, Neil checked the various instruments that gave off numerous readings.
Air, safe to breathe. Oxygen made up of 33% of air. The atmosphere is mature.
Neil's steps were a bit laboured from the suddenly increased gravity. He traced his fate.
And there she is, a blob of single-celled Slime, a mutated amoeba.
Neil felt his heart sank, "This...this is my soul mate?"
(Any constructive feedback is welcomed)
r/ThroughTHeDeadlocK(https://new.reddit.com/r/ThroughTHeDeadlocK/) | |
[WP] Your entire life, you have been able to see the red strings of fate connecting people to their soulmates. Yours has always extended past the sky. Space travel has just became available, so you begin your search for your soulmate. | For some inexplicable reason, I’ve always been able to see the strings of fate that bound two people together. For me, however, my string never pointed to another person, not here on Earth at least. My thread had been affixed to the sky itself and whatever lay beyond.
I tried to ignore it as best I could. What was I to do? Leave everything I knew and loved behind just so I could chase after a dream? That would be ludicrous, right? So I tried finding love on my own terms. As best as I could, I threw myself out into the dating world and let it have its way with me. For a time, I thought myself happy. I met wonderful people. People who had filled me up with either happiness or contention. But never both. Something was always lacking, I knew. And it plagued me to no end. Knowing full well that who I chose to date wasn’t the person I was meant to be with had soured every good relationship before it even began.
And so I stopped trying to fight it.
It’s been thirty years since I’ve begun my search. Since then, I’ve been sailing through the sea of stars here in Outer Space. I had spent my life savings commissioning a galactic cruiser capable of taking me to the great unknown. My friends and family called me a fool. They begged me to reconsider. They told me I was making a terrible mistake, that I was throwing everything away and for what? To chase after a dream made obscured by the clouds themselves? I admit, it was daunting for me to steel my resolve then. But in the end, I found the courage I needed to let follow my heart. Because in the end, I knew something that they did not. I was cursed knowing that my soulmate was somewhere out there. A place so far, far away from Earth. How could I ever hope to be whole when I knew the better half of me was waiting for me out there? So I made my peace, said my farewells, and left everything and everyone behind.
The problem was, no matter where I went, no matter how far I traveled, the threads of fate never seemed to grow closer.
Now I’m forced to reckon with an irrefutable truth. I’ve spent a lifetime coursing through these stars, soaking in its majesty, and braving the great unknown. I keep a logs of every phenomenon that I am blessed to bear witness to. You would think that after thousands of said logs, I would grow tired of charting them. Never. These logs mean the world to me. Still, for all my efforts, I am nowhere closer to my end goal. That haunting red string ever eludes me.
Though it pains me to say it, I fear my time is drawing close to an end. My life support systems have been alarming as of late, pointing to my failing vital signs. Every day I am greeted with a new ache that was not there the day before. It’s only a matter of time now.
And so begs the question. Should I worry that I have squandered my life? Should I have listened to the wisdom of my loved ones and stayed behind? And finally, when I close my eyes for the final time, will I be filled with nothing but regret?
After much contemplation, I keep circling back to the same conclusion: No- no, I think not.
My life living amongst the stars has been an unforgettable journey that I cherish every single moment. Back at Earth, life was cyclical, drab, routine even. Out here, there are a thousand things to marvel at and then a thousand more. I thought chasing after the red thread of fate would lead me to the love of my life. Sadly, that never came to pass. However, the journey in and of itself is worth more than its weight in gold. I stand by those words.
But more so than that, I have discovered something that I could never hope to back on Earth. You see, all my life I thought something to be missing. I lived a life of chock-full of discontent. I was always left wanting, but never appreciative. However, in the solitude of space, I found what I was missing- a sense of self-worth and acceptance. For the first time in my life, I understand what it means to not only be content but to also love oneself. And let me tell you- that is a beautiful thing.
___
Thanks for reading! r/86Fiction | Dear Elon Musk,
Please keep reading! I know you get many e-mails. But this one is very important!
I don't know much about business practices. If the one reading this is an employee of Mr Musk, please
bring this e-mail to Mr Musk personally! If this is an AI that pre-reads e-mails...
I am not sure how to plead with machines. Please, this has to get to Mr. Musk!
Mr Musk, thanks so much for reading my e-mail! It is my deepest wish that you will
receive it. I have no idea how it will reach you. I know nothing about business or technology.
You are of course the opposite, and that's why I am writing you!
I know your time is valuable. I will try to be short. Although I cannot help myself from rambling. This is just
my nature. If I had the funds, I would hire an editor to rewrite all this! Alas
I am deeply in debt. But I will get to the point!
As I write this e-mail, I realize it will sound weird. I realize you are a lunatic magnet.
AI, space, brains, etc, crazy people can't get enough of those. But I assure you, I am different.
I am completely sane! Although I have no scientific proof for what I am about to write!
I'll just come out with it: I see red strings between soulmates. If two soulmates walk by in the street,
I see a string that connects them. Is that crazy? I assure you I am not crazy!
Of course, I never tell anyone! Nobody wants to be
informed that person X or Y is or is not their soulmate. Trust me, I found this out the hard way.
But believe me, it is very accurate. My mom and dad, for example. I knew they would stay together forever. And they did.
They died together last year! I can give you a list of other examples, although I have
no scientific proof!
I tend to forget what I'm supposed to be doing. Last month, for example, I had a
job interview, but I totally forgot. Yes, I'm currently unemployed. I had some odds jobs here
and there. At my least job, two office workers were connected with soulmate strings. And they were married to other
people. You can imagine the daily distraction quickly got me fired. Impossible to work with
such visions!
I feel like this vision is something sacred that should not be messed with. But I am only human!
You are probably wondering: How great for you, you found your soulmate years ago, just by following the string.
Alas, no. I am single. And my string... it goes nowhere. It just extends up into the sky.
Not sure what that means. Maybe you can tell me? You are good at figuring out systems and problems!
I think it means I'm the only one with the vision. I see plenty of people without any red string
at all. I suppose they will never find the true one.
But mine goes up into the sky! That makes me special.
But nevertheless all my relationships have failed so far.
I'm not blaming the string! I know it's probably my own fault.
I'm not so attractive to begin with. And I'm terribly shy. I mostly keep to myself. Then, there is the acne...
It's gotten a bit better over the years. But alas, then the baldness and wrinkles helped to bury any hopes I might have had.
The acne gets worse when it matters: the day before a date, you bet it will start oozing greenish, yellowish
goo and everything just gets infected.
One time I was basically blind. The area around my eyes was all swollen.
I tried to go on the date anyway. She had seen some photos of me. But what appeared before her was obviously not comparable
to a photo with soft lighting and smoothing filter. She took one look at me and made an excuse. The date took
about ten seconds in all.
She was Russian. Svetlana. We had been talking for a couple of months online. We were so compatible. It was crazy. I
had started to learn Russian for her. Every spare moment I was studying Russian or thinking of ways to impress her.
I guess it was not meant to be. My red string was going up into space, after all. And hers was going somewhere west.
I am not proud of what I did after that. I followed her red string. It was quite a drive. I lost track and
had to restart a couple of times. One time, I lost track because a dog bit my leg when I got out of the
highway supermarket shop. My leg is still suffering from that. I have a slight limp.
I managed to find the guy, her soulmate, in the end. He looked normal. His skin was smooth, for the most part.
I could not be mad at him. He looked nice enough. I went back to my car and cried all the way home.
Mr Musk, yes, I have suffered a lot in my life. I was never good at belonging. I have been alone
most of my life. Because of my acne. And I'm not so coherent when I talk to people. I ramble.
People nod, and never invite me back.
Do you know about loneliness? It is crushing. Also, being reminded every second that my red string
goes nowhere... knowing I will remain without a soulmate for the rest of my life... it is unbearable.
I've had many dark moments, depression,
unable to get out of bed. Now that my parents are dead, I have no reason
to keep going. There is nobody to be sad or feel guilty when I do pass.
So yesterday, I decided
this was it. I had given it my best shot. I had fought and fought. But
if there is no more hope, one has to face reality and give up. No use to lie face-down in the mud all day.
I decided to drive my car to Rudger Cliff Point.
It is a place where many romances started. Many times I've been there to reflect while overlooking
the Rudgerville valley.
You know, the red strings
are pretty. They vibrate, dance, shifting subtlety in hue. Vibrant.
I could stare at it for hours. But lately they just brought tears to my eyes.
Anyway, Mr Musk. I will get to the point!
I was about to drive my car off the cliff. Yes. Suicide.
Until I heard your voice on the
radio! It might sound stupid. But it was only at that point that it really clicked. I never really
thought about it before. But you were talking about space travel. How it was about to become reality
soon, and it clicked! Of course. My soulmate exists! She is out there. Up there
in the sky, in space! I'm the only one with a space string which means I have to go to space!
I never found my way here on earth, for a reason! I was meant to leave it.
I will attach my CV and photo. I know it contains only failures, and my
photo being the biggest one of all. Maybe you can give me my own capsule so the other
astronauts don't have to look at me. Or some kind of space mask?
This is my fate. I can tell you are also a man who believes in fate.
In return, I can tell you who your soulmate is. I will have to meet you in person,
as the strings don't show up on photos or video. I will do this for you. You will find your soulmate,
and spend the rest of your life with her! And in return, I ask that you make the
same thing happen for me. Send me to space. You are my only hope! | |
[WP] During the end of times, legendary heroes from all throughout time are resurrected to stop the end of the world. There are figures of myth and history but you can’t help but wonder why the hell YOU were brought back | Some days, you just find it difficult to catch a break. This is one of these days. Especially since I've been dead for about half a century, which, honestly, wasn't that bad. No loud noises, no bothersome insurance salesmen calling whenever you got in the bath, you weren't forced to hear EDM because some idiot had bought the world's worst headset which seems to be screeching out what you could call music in the same way you could call British food cuisine, in all directions instead of the intended one. It wasn't half bad. Well, except for that one thing.
And then I woke up, surrounded by people who looked vaguely like a convention for extremely fit people who are really into realistic armour. Of course by saying fit, I don't mean your garden variety body-builder, but people with the sort of muscles that could crush human heads without much trouble, and keep on crushing heads for days. There were a few others, who looked either vaguely mystical or sneaky, but I was definitely the odd one out, in my comfortable bathrobe, my sensible shoes, my jogging pants, and an old power metal band T-shirt, holding a trowel.
It certainly did not fit in with the swords-and-sorcery types. A few people were staring rather confusedly at me, but stopped when a booming voice was heard throughout the rather astoundingly large room we were standing in. Some sort of ancient building, like the Parthenon or the Hagia Sofia, only bigger, and more filled with splendor. ''**Arise! Arise oh heroes of Earth! For come hath the day of doom, come hath Ragnarok, the Apocalypse, the End of ALL THINGS! Thou are the heroes of legend, named of old, great and powerful, wise and strong! In this, the hour of the coming of the wolf, you have been awakened from your ancient slumber! Brothers are fighting brothers, sisters are feuding, the time hath come, and you must fight, to protect all life, for once and for all!**'' The voice came from all sides, from all angles, and was the sort of booming, deep, and strangely androgynous voice, that you could never imagine, beautiful and terrible, like the cold winter and the warm summer. The others in the room roared with pride and determination. I looked at them and found it somewhat silly, and loud. ''**Go forth! Thou hath been summoned by those that remember you and your deeds! Go now, into wrath and ruin, into eternity and the ending of all things!**''
As one, the great warriors charged, lithe amazons, burly vikings, shining knights, fierce jaguar warriors with black blades of obsidian, disciplined samurai, ancient charioteers, rough riding presidents, proud pharaohs, and once sleeping kings, all charging forth into the fray. I stood there somewhat dumbfounded. After all, who had remembered me, who had called me back?
A brief moment passed, as the warriors passed into the horizon. ''**John, will you not join them? You have been called, as have all like you!**'' Once again the voice boomed in my head. ''*Well, it's just, you know, why me? I haven't, really, done anything. I'm no king Arthur, I'm no knight of yore.*'' As an answer, a small burst of light appeared before me. A rather large rodent, though not larger than a human baby appeared, curiously dressed in mail, with a small blade on its hip. It bowed before me. ''*Great lord, I am unworthy.*'' It mewled. Confused, I knelt down so I could more easily look it in the eyes. ''*Who are you?*'' Nervously, the rodent did that thing with its paws, trying to desperately groom itself. ''*I am Khae, daughter of Moerl, third light battalion of Green Division. Lord Maker, you have come.*'' That answered very little honestly. ''**This is the legacy you left behind, when mankind died out, your research into increasing cranial capacity in rodents had borne far greater fruit than you had ever anticipated. Through your journals, your children, more clever than you had ever thought possible, learned about mankind, and how to operate the failing machinery. Through you, they found the manuals to agriculture and simple easy to build housing. Through you they found that they had been created by you.**'' Slowly the memories returned, over the years. ''*But that was recently, what some decades ago.*'' The booming voice rumbled the building around me, instinctively I grabbed the rodent soldier, as if to protect her. ''**Time works differently in death. Do you not remember hearing their prayers, answering them as best you could? You were their god. And now that the world ends, you return to save them.**'' I looked down at the rodent, her big eyes looking at me with devotion and faith. ''*I remember. Prayers in the darkness. I remember humanity holding on, returning. I remember my children hiding. And surviving. Expanding. Rebuilding. I remember their prayers. I remember indeed. I remember being the last researcher, trying desperately to reverse the disease, do anything for mankind, or to even leave someone else to pick up where we failed. I remember their prayers against the coming darkness. Indeed. Distantly, I believe I can hear them. Praying for salvation as all who have ever lived fights for a future, against those who would see not only the future destroyed, but the past undone, to unravel the universe itself.*'' I took the paw of that so long descended follower of mine. ''*I^I A^A M^M T^T H^H E^E M^M A^A K^K E^E R^R. I will do everything I can, and you will be saved, my child.*'' | I open my eyes to find myself in the tomb I was buried in, looking around, I saw the tombs of at least thirty others. I have no idea who these people were, but I saw a familiar face amongst the group, it was my good friend Victor.
“Morning, old friend.” He greets with the common grin on his face, he offered a hand up and I took it to get out of the coffin. I was still rather surprised from the amount of coffins surrounding me, and obviously why I was in the coffin to begin with. “You don’t remember anything do you?”
I shook my head to indicate that I had seemingly forgotten something rather important. With a sigh, Victor gestured mr to follow him through a rather large hallway. All lined with paintings of someone who looked somewhat like me and a couple others. With their appearances ranging from a simple high schooler with a black aura around them to a an assassin in blue.
“To put it bluntly, all of us are dead!” He sarcastically shouts at me as he stretched his arms outward, gaining a surprised and confused look from me. “But don’t worry, I found a cheat code in the system. I made my own universe and brought every one of you back from the dead, at a price...”
Tilting my head sideways, he continued on with his explanation in more detail.
“All of us are now a group of god-like beings called the XV Lords, sounds great and all before you hear about the side effects of putting Titan-level powers inside someone.”
We arrived at a large room with a magic circle in the middle that had fifteen smaller circle around it, each of which had a different emblem within it.
“A side effect of putting too much power in one body at a time is that the person has major memory loss and problems, unless they concentrate that power into something else, like Angela’s sword or Hana’s eyes.”
The two of us came to a stop in the middle of the room, before a gestured to all the paintings of me and the random people around the room. He looked at me confused before slapping himself in the head.
“Oh yeah, obviously everyone had different lives, even with the missing memories.” He pointed out in a very matter-of-fact tone. “John became king of the forest, Casper married a mermaid, and Cynthia founded the most well-known science institute in the world!”
I silently nodded and began to wonder what I did, because the last things I remember was getting nuked. Victor then pointed to the individual figures in the paintings.
“Each and everyone or these people, were YOUR soldiers.” He informed with a confident smirk. “YOU lead these people to fight some of the greatest evils that existed.”
I pointed myself with my hand that was pale from shock, I was never a leader or a fighter. How could I have possibly fought some “great evils”, much less lead an army?
“Of course, you went by another name, Xemnas the Dragon King.” Victor enlightened me of my former name, back when I was this...person. “Of course you were also resurrected with great power, so that’s why you don’t remember anything, but I can show you what I know...”
Suddenly, the environment changed to a battlefield with crimson skies and a black ground that had brimstone scattered around the ground. I looked around further to see five individuals were fighting what looked to be a knight in pitch black armor.
The first individual had spiky hair and a gray staff that he was extended and shrunk as he kicked the knight, denting it’s armor. The next one was a man with long, crimson hair bearing golden armor and a wicked smile. He fought alongside the man with the staff, slashing at the dented armor with his sword.
Five blue lights dashed right passed me and the two warriors, and struck the knight in the chest. I looked behind me to see it was a boy with brown hair and a red thorn floating behind him. He dashed from point to point firing lasers at the knight as the two warriors dodged the attacks as if they knew what was coming.
The black knight raised it’s sword, only to cut cut multiple times in the arms and pierced through the chest by another knight coming from his own shadow. Next thing I know, there was a man with black hair and a blue tracksuit holding twin daggers standing next to me, seemingly summoning an army from his shadow.
The four raged on, continuing the fight until someone new joined the fight, it was...me?!
The me summoned a snow-white katana along with an overflowing blue energy in the opposite hand. The four warriors cornered the knight by surrounding him before sending their own attacks.
The martial artistes kicked his staff through the knight’s right arm, the crimson haired knight sent a large fireball at the left arm, the boy fired a black hole at the man’s the left, and the assassin summoned shadows to stab the remaining leg. Then the other version of me raised the sword above the blue energy before sending a large wave of energy at the knight.
The energy cleared to show the knight was still there, but now frozen and slowly turned to dust. I could feel how cold the knight was from here, then the room returned to it’s normal state. With Victor the middle with a smug look.
“See, that was you, did you recognize everyone else?” He asked me, I nodded again in response. “Those people were Mori Jin, Leveling Warrior, Bam, and Sung Jiwoo, figments of people’s imagination on Earth, but real people in one world in particular....”
“Now, I know what you’re thinking: “but they don’t exist’ well screw that because I am the RULES!” Victor shouted in the large room. “Now look, when you’re a god and can do anything you want, you tend to be unoriginal at times.”
Victor then turned his attention back to me before patting my shoulder. “All of us are something you know, I am the rules, Summer is the knowledge, Sung is the adaptability, and so on...”
“So what am I?” I curiously asked my friend, who then smiled a wide grin.
“You, my friend, are the imagination.” He informed me as a bright blue light surrounded us. “User of powers and summoner of characters.” | |
[WP] During the end of times, legendary heroes from all throughout time are resurrected to stop the end of the world. There are figures of myth and history but you can’t help but wonder why the hell YOU were brought back | Some days, you just find it difficult to catch a break. This is one of these days. Especially since I've been dead for about half a century, which, honestly, wasn't that bad. No loud noises, no bothersome insurance salesmen calling whenever you got in the bath, you weren't forced to hear EDM because some idiot had bought the world's worst headset which seems to be screeching out what you could call music in the same way you could call British food cuisine, in all directions instead of the intended one. It wasn't half bad. Well, except for that one thing.
And then I woke up, surrounded by people who looked vaguely like a convention for extremely fit people who are really into realistic armour. Of course by saying fit, I don't mean your garden variety body-builder, but people with the sort of muscles that could crush human heads without much trouble, and keep on crushing heads for days. There were a few others, who looked either vaguely mystical or sneaky, but I was definitely the odd one out, in my comfortable bathrobe, my sensible shoes, my jogging pants, and an old power metal band T-shirt, holding a trowel.
It certainly did not fit in with the swords-and-sorcery types. A few people were staring rather confusedly at me, but stopped when a booming voice was heard throughout the rather astoundingly large room we were standing in. Some sort of ancient building, like the Parthenon or the Hagia Sofia, only bigger, and more filled with splendor. ''**Arise! Arise oh heroes of Earth! For come hath the day of doom, come hath Ragnarok, the Apocalypse, the End of ALL THINGS! Thou are the heroes of legend, named of old, great and powerful, wise and strong! In this, the hour of the coming of the wolf, you have been awakened from your ancient slumber! Brothers are fighting brothers, sisters are feuding, the time hath come, and you must fight, to protect all life, for once and for all!**'' The voice came from all sides, from all angles, and was the sort of booming, deep, and strangely androgynous voice, that you could never imagine, beautiful and terrible, like the cold winter and the warm summer. The others in the room roared with pride and determination. I looked at them and found it somewhat silly, and loud. ''**Go forth! Thou hath been summoned by those that remember you and your deeds! Go now, into wrath and ruin, into eternity and the ending of all things!**''
As one, the great warriors charged, lithe amazons, burly vikings, shining knights, fierce jaguar warriors with black blades of obsidian, disciplined samurai, ancient charioteers, rough riding presidents, proud pharaohs, and once sleeping kings, all charging forth into the fray. I stood there somewhat dumbfounded. After all, who had remembered me, who had called me back?
A brief moment passed, as the warriors passed into the horizon. ''**John, will you not join them? You have been called, as have all like you!**'' Once again the voice boomed in my head. ''*Well, it's just, you know, why me? I haven't, really, done anything. I'm no king Arthur, I'm no knight of yore.*'' As an answer, a small burst of light appeared before me. A rather large rodent, though not larger than a human baby appeared, curiously dressed in mail, with a small blade on its hip. It bowed before me. ''*Great lord, I am unworthy.*'' It mewled. Confused, I knelt down so I could more easily look it in the eyes. ''*Who are you?*'' Nervously, the rodent did that thing with its paws, trying to desperately groom itself. ''*I am Khae, daughter of Moerl, third light battalion of Green Division. Lord Maker, you have come.*'' That answered very little honestly. ''**This is the legacy you left behind, when mankind died out, your research into increasing cranial capacity in rodents had borne far greater fruit than you had ever anticipated. Through your journals, your children, more clever than you had ever thought possible, learned about mankind, and how to operate the failing machinery. Through you, they found the manuals to agriculture and simple easy to build housing. Through you they found that they had been created by you.**'' Slowly the memories returned, over the years. ''*But that was recently, what some decades ago.*'' The booming voice rumbled the building around me, instinctively I grabbed the rodent soldier, as if to protect her. ''**Time works differently in death. Do you not remember hearing their prayers, answering them as best you could? You were their god. And now that the world ends, you return to save them.**'' I looked down at the rodent, her big eyes looking at me with devotion and faith. ''*I remember. Prayers in the darkness. I remember humanity holding on, returning. I remember my children hiding. And surviving. Expanding. Rebuilding. I remember their prayers. I remember indeed. I remember being the last researcher, trying desperately to reverse the disease, do anything for mankind, or to even leave someone else to pick up where we failed. I remember their prayers against the coming darkness. Indeed. Distantly, I believe I can hear them. Praying for salvation as all who have ever lived fights for a future, against those who would see not only the future destroyed, but the past undone, to unravel the universe itself.*'' I took the paw of that so long descended follower of mine. ''*I^I A^A M^M T^T H^H E^E M^M A^A K^K E^E R^R. I will do everything I can, and you will be saved, my child.*'' | There I sat, having tea in a comfortable hovel. The room was small, constructed of timber, mud brick, and what seemed to be some kind of concrete. The tea was a fairly modern brew from what I knew about tea, which wasn't much. The table was mostly empty aside from a well-maintained tea set, and I had nothing on me but my clothes and a worn school binder.
Sitting across from me was Marcus Aurelius, Philosopher King, the last of the Five Good Emperors of the Roman Empire. I knew this because we talked about him last Wednesday in my history class.
In an accent, no, a voice lost to time, he spoke in a language I somehow understood perfectly. I never remembered much from my learning on other languages, but this one wasn't Greek or Latin. It didn't sound like any language I had ever heard.
It was something that got injected into all of our heads when we were Called here. The Summoner - that guy still wouldn't give me his real name - called it the "language of heroes." Didn't explain why I knew it; the closest thing I ever did to heroic was take about four lessons of martial arts.
Yet here I was, talking to a man who should be dead, about why I was here. It was like a psychiatrist appointment, but your psychiatrist is a Roman Emperor and you're drinking crappy tea.
Marcus Aurelius raised an eyebrow as I added more sugar. "You really should try to measure your intake," he commented. "I do believe that of all the Called, you are the least in shape."
"There's a guy that weighs 295 kilos a few tents down, man," I responded. "That's bull and you know it." Marcus's eyebrow quirked. "Ōrora is a sumo wrestler. He is an an outlier and *you* know it." I was swiftly tiring of the fact that a man from so long ago could sass me like he was born in the 80s.
"Let's get back to the point," I grumbled, unwilling to admit my loss. "I bring nothing to the table here. We have the dude who prototyped the first trebuchet. We have Alex the Great and Gengis Khan sharing a room. We have friggin **Sir Francis Bacon, Father of Science.** You guys don't need me!"
"What are you holding?" Marcus Aurelius asked me, his eyes on my binder. "Uh, it's..." I was taken aback by his response. He didn't refute my point, but didn't accept it either. What was his angle? "It's a school binder. Carries pages. I used it to take notes, but I guess college isn't happening anymore."
"Why do you keep it with you?" the Philosopher King asked me. "...I don't know. I had a few options on where to go, so I wrote what I knew about them and chose. Ended up with you," I shrugged. "You were fresher in my mind. We talked about you recently, you were the Last Good Emperor."
"Last Good Emperor?" Aurelius replied, somewhere between amusement and mild horror. "That doesn't bode well." I laughed, despite myself. "Sorry, spoilers. Rome did great with a competent leader, but someone with less wisdom at the wheel may have made an opening for barbarians of sorts."
"Putting my Empire's unfortunate aftermath on the side, you've made my point brilliantly," Aurelius smiled. I was honestly so tired of this whole meeting. "Please enlighten me, Marky," I responded. "Firstly, never call me that again," Marcus responded.
He motioned for me to open my binder. I obliged, and he began to speak. "Notes on figures. Notes on battles. Notes on empires, statues, trade routes." I narrowed my eyes. "It's mostly chicken scratch and nonsensical meme comparisons, but sure."
Aurelius met my eyes. "Sir Bacon dissected the world around him and created a new field of knowledge. People of my time dissected warfare and refined it to a point of untold superiority, for a time. The first nomads of our fine world dissected growth patterns and created agriculture."
He looked through me with a piercing gaze. "You dissect people. Events. Emotions. Concepts. And you break then down into simple facts and observances." He stood, strode around the table with a fervor I had not yet seen in him. He stood me up and clapped me on the shoulder. "You show potential. Welcome to the Philosophy Division."
I was starting to get really tired of Marcus Aurelius. | |
[WP] A first time demon summoner successfully conjures a spirit. Per the norm the demons first intent is to be set free to wreak havoc, but this quickly dissipates as he realizes how awkward & adorable the summoner is about the ritual. | “You dare summon me mor- wait are you the summoner?”
Silence. Absolute silence. This can’t be right. There is no way. But the symbols are right, the blood is there this is the summoner.
“H-Hi m-m-my name is...”
“SPEAK CHILD FOR I DO NOT PLAN TO WASTE MY TIME”
“Tyler! My name is Tyler...”
He’s shaking, god he’s shaking. I kind of feel bad. He’s in church clothes... and oh god it’s a puppy. I can’t do this...
“Tyler what is it that you seek?”
His dog is barking at me, annoying but I would feel bad if I attacked the dog and plus... It’s got puppy eyes
I lower my voice “ Hey cmon bud, listen but I don’t do this often but you have my word, I’ll grant you your wish without any side effects. Ok?”
With that he seems to be more confident, well then, what shall he wish for I wonder?
“I want... a dad”
Was not expecting that, but I’m bound by my own cursed words to obey.
“Well then let’s get going son”
And that’s how I got my little boy and a dog. Wasn’t planning on adopting but his wish... is my command | About three years ago I was felt a small tug on my navel. This is common feelings for a successful summoning.
Usually there is a right being spoken just to indicate what I was doing when I got pulled from the abyss .
So I let the summon pull me into the circle. It was a child’s room filled with drawings. it felt like in all of the drawings were in pain a loss of something.
Yet as I stare down at my summoner. It’s a face of an innocent kid crying.
When I was summoned in the past . I ran a way and causes a lot mischief, pain but never death.
My name is Hobbes. I say to the kid.
From a squeaky voice the kid replies Calvin. | |
edit: [someone called me out so here's the original](https://twitter.com/TheAndrewNadeau/status/1221583159759904769?s=19) | [WP] There’s a parallel universe where people age non-linearly, and every day you have no idea how old you’ll wake up. So sometimes you’d have to call into work like, “Sorry, can’t make it in today, I’m 7.” | Everyone seems to remember that things used to be different somehow but no one quite remembers what's different or why. This feeling is so pervasive that governments have been looking into the matter for some time. I'm on one of those task forces and we are getting close. We found some ruins that must have been incredibly old and next to what might have been a building were all these graves. Everyone in the graves appears to have died after a long life which really has my team confused. See time here means little more than day or night. Living things change and grow constantly. Yesterday I could barely move without a cane. Today my chest is flat and I bet I could run all day. I'm just one example. My tree out front is probably 30 meters tall but earlier it was just a little sapling. So, for so many graves to have a consistency like this must be important. Today we will investigate some nearby underground structure that looks suspiciously like a lab perhaps there we will find some answers.
---
Please be gentle I'm fragile. | Today’s turkey isn’t tomorrow’s. We knew this much. I’d planned for Lord knows what series of events upcoming. What was the concept of time? We used to have an idea. The only thing we’re certain of, is that the solar system is revolving around this earth—time? Not so fucking much. Luckily, today I’m 80 & rather wise. I’ve even the gray hair to prove it! When they’ll say, “Nothing is certain in life!” they didn’t know the extent, but who knows, those damn 8 year olds may be 50 tomorrow, & realize that’s what they meant. I’ve been feeling frozen in time, while at times I’ve felt like time couldn’t slow down enough for me. Is this what they’d though of as time travel? I literally thought I bought a pizza for myself yesterday, too, but I’d thought wrong—I looked & even the fridge is different, & I only have this.. Random soda from the future.. Have I really been starved? Hmm, well I don’t feel much like it.. These calendars only remind me of my Alzheimers, I said to sis. Her reply was, “dude, don’t act brand new, the world has been ever cursed & now there isn’t but a brief concept of “this moment” as we all wake up as a different age tomorrow! “So catch you on the flip-side Jerry!” |
edit: [someone called me out so here's the original](https://twitter.com/TheAndrewNadeau/status/1221583159759904769?s=19) | [WP] There’s a parallel universe where people age non-linearly, and every day you have no idea how old you’ll wake up. So sometimes you’d have to call into work like, “Sorry, can’t make it in today, I’m 7.” | (1/3)
My father was one of the first to die when the age jumps began 25 years ago. I was only eight when he died, so most of what I know about him is from the videos my mother left behind. She survived him by seven years.
“Your father loved you very much, Stewie. He was a very smart and compassionate man,” her eyes filled with love whenever she spoke of him. The same kind of love that enabled her frail body to make a video she hoped would help me remember that I once had a family that loved me.
“…He spent most of his childhood in a daycare and the rest at a boarding school. His parents had him late in their lives, when they could afford it in their mid-40’s. That was common for their generation – the “millennials” they called them. Both his parents worked two jobs, and worked nights and weekends to make ends meet. But whenever they did have the time for your dad, they showered him with love. The same way I showered you with snuggles every Sunday morning. You’d put on a large white t-shirt and pretend to be a scientist just like your dad. No pants and all. Oh, and if you are watching this with someone…Stewie has a gluten sensitivity, but he loves pancakes. I’ll put the recipe I use for gluten free pancakes at the end of the video...”
In her voice, I could hear her hope that I would not be alone after she was gone. Marley leaned in closer to me. Marley had made me the pancakes in the past. However, once our relationship was old enough for us to be honest with one another, I let her know she was a terrible cook.
I am not eating those pancakes anymore, but I am okay now, Mom. I am not alone. This woman, though she screws up boiling water, has supported me in the long journey of feeling whole again.
“Your father knew how much his parents had given up for him. He started working as soon as he could, hoping to take care of them financially, but neither of them made it to 70. They were both broken from the stress of working endlessly.
That’s when your father decided to focus his research on improving the life of the elderly. He wanted to help older people enjoy their latest years and truly live. He wanted to give back the youth they selflessly gave away.”
I finish watching the video with Marley, knowing my age will probably jump in the next 24 hours. I am pretty consistent and probably won’t need help, but she is here “just in case”. It’s this kind of unconditional support that replenishes my faith in this world.
The age jumps didn’t affect everyone the first year they occurred. We had a few domestic cases (my dad included), but they really bloomed in distant countries in the middle east and in China. They did eventually spread though, and within 10 years, everyone was jumping.
When you age jump, your body and mind change instantly at random frequencies and at random intervals. For some, I heard these changes happened hourly. At 7:59 a.m., you were a 31-year-old driving to work, and at 8 a.m., you were five and dead from a car crash. Through my work as a reporter covering the age jumps, I’ve never come across any hourly jumpers. I don’t think any have survived.
Once everyone had time to “adjust” to the jumps, the economy and workforce restructured around them. With the exception of some toppled governments in the countries that were hit first by the age jumps, everything went back to how it used to be. The more far apart the jumps, the more affluent your family became. All the age jumps did was increase the distance between “haves” and “have-nots”.
People with daily or weekly age jumps live in tribes, taking care of each other and providing food when old or young enough to work. The Johan Foundation helps provide food and shelter for these people.
“My father believed that every life has value. We are all needed. He believed it was our family’s role to provide for the needful.” Marley said in a speech, in front of wealthy donors gathered in the Gala where we met five years ago.
Back then, I hated those kinds of people. They knew nothing of the struggle that my grandparents, my parents and I went through. There in that fancy ballroom, eating with three different forks, they could not be further away from the millions of people they supported through their tax-deductible donations.
Honestly, it would be easy to hate Marley. Her family *could* always provide for the needful because of the enormous wealth they accumulated through government contracts researching the age jumps. Even if you did hate her, she would be immune to it. Her sheltered life brewed in her a special kind of kindness. A kindness that could only exist in someone who could recognize need but never had to experience it herself. Her empathy and resolve to help mesmerized me from the start.
She really wants to make a difference.
And that drive to make a difference has inspired me to be more than someone with a tragic story about losing both parents and growing up alone. It has inspired me to be someone who tries to make the world better.
My age jumps happen monthly and my age hovers between 12 and 36, which means I can work. We still don’t understand why the jumps differ so much by person, but they seem to be somewhat genetic in nature as they are pretty consistent within a family. Marley’s age jumps happen once every two years or so, and her age hovers between 20 and 27 as is the case with most of the Johan family. Even in genetics, wealth finds a way to stay within a family. As someone who has had to work for everything I’ve ever had, I really hate that about the age jumps. Still, if we ever do have kids, I hope they get her genes. | Today’s turkey isn’t tomorrow’s. We knew this much. I’d planned for Lord knows what series of events upcoming. What was the concept of time? We used to have an idea. The only thing we’re certain of, is that the solar system is revolving around this earth—time? Not so fucking much. Luckily, today I’m 80 & rather wise. I’ve even the gray hair to prove it! When they’ll say, “Nothing is certain in life!” they didn’t know the extent, but who knows, those damn 8 year olds may be 50 tomorrow, & realize that’s what they meant. I’ve been feeling frozen in time, while at times I’ve felt like time couldn’t slow down enough for me. Is this what they’d though of as time travel? I literally thought I bought a pizza for myself yesterday, too, but I’d thought wrong—I looked & even the fridge is different, & I only have this.. Random soda from the future.. Have I really been starved? Hmm, well I don’t feel much like it.. These calendars only remind me of my Alzheimers, I said to sis. Her reply was, “dude, don’t act brand new, the world has been ever cursed & now there isn’t but a brief concept of “this moment” as we all wake up as a different age tomorrow! “So catch you on the flip-side Jerry!” |
edit: [someone called me out so here's the original](https://twitter.com/TheAndrewNadeau/status/1221583159759904769?s=19) | [WP] There’s a parallel universe where people age non-linearly, and every day you have no idea how old you’ll wake up. So sometimes you’d have to call into work like, “Sorry, can’t make it in today, I’m 7.” | *95%*
Benj and Mae looked into each other’s eyes with relief. Today, they were 27 and 34. Easy age day for the couple, no wrinkles or weird talking-to-a-child-who-is-your-lover energy. It was fortunate, because now they could properly enjoy their first day of parenthood. They missed the time when people aged normally, but eight weeks into the new and crazy, people were adjusted, and today, they didn’t even have to think about this weird age shit. They had a beautiful baby boy! Born today, correct age right off the bat!
The doc came back into the room. *There’s the lovely parents!* she said, with a worn and tired face of 87 years. The lovely parents turned to her, and Benj went to shake her hand. *Thank you, thank you! Seriously, I was so damn scared they weren’t gonna make it but you did it, and he didn’t even need to go into NICU!* Benj exclaimed, tears in his eyes.
They had narrowly missed the worst. The awful, awful worst. When they were told it was a 95% chance of mortality for both mother and child, all they could do was hope for the best, and hope that Mae woke up a healthy age whenever her body chose to go into labor. But they’d been lucky, they made it through, and they didn’t have to do it again. *Miracles are real, seriously. Thank you* said Mae, looking as tired as the temporally ancient doctor and making sincere eye contact. The relief and gratitude filled the room like a bubble.
— — — — —
They spent the night in the hospital, as long as their insurance would let them. Minus the baby waking to cry once or twice, it was a peaceful night. Benj drifted into sleep, dreaming of teaching his adult son how to ride a bike, and changing his adult son’s diapers. Dreams were weird enough *before* the world was weirder, man. He fell asleep with Mae’s hand in his, next to their little miracle in the crib next to them.
When the sun shone through the window, Benj woke up to feel an ancient, withered hand in his. Spider veins and liver spots peppered his wife as she lay there, asleep. His heart dropped through the floor like an anvil when he saw that the crib was empty.
And it stayed down there when he noticed that Mae was pregnant. Their baby boy had aged backwards in the night.
*95%* | Today’s turkey isn’t tomorrow’s. We knew this much. I’d planned for Lord knows what series of events upcoming. What was the concept of time? We used to have an idea. The only thing we’re certain of, is that the solar system is revolving around this earth—time? Not so fucking much. Luckily, today I’m 80 & rather wise. I’ve even the gray hair to prove it! When they’ll say, “Nothing is certain in life!” they didn’t know the extent, but who knows, those damn 8 year olds may be 50 tomorrow, & realize that’s what they meant. I’ve been feeling frozen in time, while at times I’ve felt like time couldn’t slow down enough for me. Is this what they’d though of as time travel? I literally thought I bought a pizza for myself yesterday, too, but I’d thought wrong—I looked & even the fridge is different, & I only have this.. Random soda from the future.. Have I really been starved? Hmm, well I don’t feel much like it.. These calendars only remind me of my Alzheimers, I said to sis. Her reply was, “dude, don’t act brand new, the world has been ever cursed & now there isn’t but a brief concept of “this moment” as we all wake up as a different age tomorrow! “So catch you on the flip-side Jerry!” |
edit: [someone called me out so here's the original](https://twitter.com/TheAndrewNadeau/status/1221583159759904769?s=19) | [WP] There’s a parallel universe where people age non-linearly, and every day you have no idea how old you’ll wake up. So sometimes you’d have to call into work like, “Sorry, can’t make it in today, I’m 7.” | I woke up today aching more than usual, as I tried to get out of bed the limber and eager way I’m used to, I struggle just to prop myself up. I know somethings different today, I manage to sit up and turn my body to face the mirror on the left side of my room. I can’t even see the mirror clearly, oh it’s another day with poor eyesight but somethings still off and I can’t believe I’ve never experienced this before. I look down at my hands and they are ever so wrinkled and covered in age spots. I have to squint to see my wrist clearly (where we all have our “age code” to tell what age we are today). I can’t believe it but today I’m 99 years old, I’ve never been this old and I can’t remember the last time one of my friends.. let alone anyone got this old.
I became frightened and unsure how I would go about the rest of my day, I’d made so many plans and had tons of important things to do today...but I’m trapped in the body of a 99 year old.
I try to grab my phone to call into work but my touch screen doesn’t read my finger properly (because it’s so dehydrated). I put the phone down and lay back in bed, feeling exhausted from this short time sitting up.
If I don’t call into work and let them know this situation I’ll surely lose my promotion.... but geez I’ve got bigger fish to fry because I feel that I’ve just let myself wet the bed, as I’ve now realized I have no control over my bodily functions
What seems to be hours pass by and I can’t get up and I can’t clean myself, I start crying and I become short of breath. I try calming myself and it works for a bit, I close my eyes tears still streaming down my face. I think I’ll just sleep this off and wake up anew and young again, nothing I can do about it. I drift off to sleep feeling at peace with myself and then it all goes black... | The room was bathed in grey shades that had the peculiar ability to make even the most vibrant rooms seem depressing. I turned over as my alarm woke me up and tried with more difficultly than usual to reach my phone. Finally with some effort I had it and switched off the blasted alarm, I swear it was louder than usual.
It then began to click as I sat bolt upright having a surpring amount of energy that I hadn't felt in weeks.
I felt around and come to the quick conclusion "Seven!" I bellowed "Oh my lord"
I opened my bedroom door where sitting on the sofa my flat mate Alex is on his computer passing time when I give a soft "Hello" and he turns and can't help but laugh a little.
"Your tiny!" he laughed getting up to investigate.
"I noticed" I responded unenthusiastic with his remark.
"Jesus you had one hell of a growth spurt"
"Puburty was quite the experience for my bones"
"Ha...wait you can't reach anything in the house. Shit!"
"And the penny drops! I can't reach the cooker hobs or the cabinets, I can't drive the car or ride my bike, hell I can't even go to work because the counter is taller than me" I barked or more likely squeaked on the account of my voice being so high now. |
edit: [someone called me out so here's the original](https://twitter.com/TheAndrewNadeau/status/1221583159759904769?s=19) | [WP] There’s a parallel universe where people age non-linearly, and every day you have no idea how old you’ll wake up. So sometimes you’d have to call into work like, “Sorry, can’t make it in today, I’m 7.” | Age was just a number to track the progression of time. In the past, before the solar flairs, people used to age gradually. Kids grew up in a linear pattern. Five became six. Six became Seven and so on. About 150 years ago that had all changed. We called it the Noquential incident. All the lights went out around the world and people changed in their sleep. There was total panic when the President of the United states came on TV as a little girl, crying in tears. For those who had TV a still working, they saw the truth.
From the moment a person touches the air around them, they would change once every 24 hours. From the moment the parents dragged them out of the birthing wombs at the clinic, it would begin. Babies didn't change too much, their little bodies couldn't handle it yet. Those tiny babies who would suddenly grow more then a year or so died very quickly from their bodies burning their energy up in the change. As a child got older, a three year old could become five or six, or drop down to a baby. Some children became adults too fast and again, their bodies would crash and very few survived. Scientists just couldn't find a cure for it. The best they could do was mark the parents as incompatible of making life and refuse to allow them to grow another child. They would be marked as none viable if a second child had the same issue but with a different partner. They wouldn't be allowed to attempt another birthing as it was too cruel. Sometimes people were incompatible, other times their genetics were. As a species, it was odd, knowing that without technology, we would have died out generations ago because a woman couldn't carry a baby now. Not if she could suddenly turn into a child at any time or become very old. It would either kill the baby or the mother, most of the time it killed both. Very few people had carried a baby to term.
Teenagers, they were the weirdest bunch. Hormones and so much energy some could change more then once a day. By the time a person turned 18, most would never become a baby again. It very rarely happened. The youngest a person would on average was three or four years old. It was frustrating to everyone at times. Most people lived as family units because it was so unsafe to live alone. What if you one day were suddenly a toddler, left home alone? Just because you had all your adult memories inside that head didn't mean you weren't just a three year old. The weirdest was when you parents or even grandparents would become children. The older you got, the more they cherished being young. Once a person turned 65, the changes slowed or even stopped all together. One woman was famous. Just before he old body shut down she had one last shift and became a child again. She stayed in that shift and lived out her life in a linear pattern, the first known human to do so. She died of old age a year or two ago. Oldest human ever. She was bread from. Not because she stayed linear, but because she lived two lives. One normal human life. Even giving birth to child naturally and safely and the Noquential life like the rest of us. I wasn't told this until I was 18, but I was one of the many children born from her eggs. A close relative of her fathers was the sperm donor. I wasn't the only one out there like me. I know my eggs were taken when I was a little girl to make more like us. If I regenerated like my egg donor, then they would be used to make more humans just like me. It was honestly very difficult to wrap my head around.
Then there was the whole dating scene. Dating was very hard, especially to find someone your own age. We all had to carry our ID with us. They couldn't be faked. People tried of cause, but it was so difficult to bypass that 99% of the time it was correct. No one really minded hooking up with random people if they looked the same age. A teenager could be an adult one day, hook up and then be back to being a teenager again the next. Or two teenagers might actually be 30 and hook up after showing each other their IDs. It was actually quite a scary system at times, but if you became a child, even if you are married to your partner, you cannot sleep in the same bed unless you are also a child.
~*~
The day started off as usual with the alarm coming from my phone. It's annoyingly chipper wake up call was dragging me from a dream about being in school. Weird. Why school? Why my first school? I felt like I should be getting ready for school after that dream, but the alarm reminded me that I was an adult who worked in a law firm downtown. I groaned and stretched before snuggling back into the duvet. It felt so big and comfortable today, like the bed was bigger. Just five more minutes.... Wait?! I sat up quickly and looked at the mirrored wardrobe at the end of the bed. Even though the dull light that was passing through the curtains, I could see I was smaller then I should be. I crawled to the end of my bed, my now massive bed that I shared with my partner and looked at the mirror.
"No! No, no, no no! Not today, any day but today!" I slid off the bed and landed heavily on the floor, not used to being so small I misjudged how high up I was and yelped in pain. I crawled over to the mirror and looked at my face. I was so young. I opened my mouth and saw my adult teeth were growing in, the front were already there so I was at least seven. Nope. I had to have been seven as most of my teeth had already fallen out. Wow. Seven years old. I haven't been this young in at least a year. I was beginning to worry that I'd never be a young child again but here I was, on one of the most important days. Important, I had to call my boss before I got swept away in being a child again. I dived at my phone as it began it's frustratingly cheery song for the second time. I turned the alarm off and unlocked the phone. I found my bosses number the hit call.
"No, not today," he groaned as the video kicked in, his normally youngish morphs today being of someone in their 60s. I'd never seen him so old before.
"I'm seven," I said a little too proudly. I cringed, but my young self was so proud of now being seven, so grown up.
My boss rubbed his face, I looked at him curiously, wondering why this old man was on the phone with me. Wait, boss, he was my boss, my job, lawyer. Nah, that was silly.
"Ok, remember to keep your phone charged and I'll call you again tomorrow."
"Ok!" I spoke brightly, knowing I'd just gotten out of going to somewhere as boring as school. I grinned as I said bye and hung up the phone. Now, where are those Lucky Charms I hid, just in case? | Alethya (Uh-lee-thee-uh) went to sleep one night, peacefully as normal. Her friends were often confused by how often she could fall asleep so easily. Especially with the fear of knowing you’ll wake up almost completely different.
When her eyes fluttered back open, she rubbed her chocolate-colored arms, finding the room unusually cold. She stood up and looked into the mirror that was attached to her closet. Oh, lovely. Two years old today.
Biologically, Alethya was seventeen years old, she could drive when possible and had a part time job. Even decent grades in school! However, things like this were a problem. Sometimes you get unlucky, and you’ll age forward or back by a ridiculous number and be forced to stay home all day.
Not like Alethya exactly minded getting to skip school, but still.
She got her phone out of the charger and called her friend, Raquel (Ruh-kehl). The phone rang twice before being answered by the accented-girl.
“Hello? Alethya?” Raquel spoke from over the phone.
“Hey! Can you tell Mr. J and Mr. Braniz I’ll be out today? I woke up as a two year old...”
The line was silent for a second before Raquel bursted out in laughter,”Seriously?! Haha, guess you’re not hanging at Jessica K’s house tonight, are ya?”
Alethya sighed, then remembering that her group had planned a sleepover at Jessica K.’s house. “Guess not... Look, just let them know for me, okay? Bye!”
Alethya hung up quickly before laying on the ground, her limbs sprawled out like a starfish with a groan. “Great start to a terrible day...” |
edit: [someone called me out so here's the original](https://twitter.com/TheAndrewNadeau/status/1221583159759904769?s=19) | [WP] There’s a parallel universe where people age non-linearly, and every day you have no idea how old you’ll wake up. So sometimes you’d have to call into work like, “Sorry, can’t make it in today, I’m 7.” | Ever since the *Large Hadron Collider* experiments, aging has been a dicey proposition.
I couldn't explain what happened. Neil DeGrasse Tyson did a pretty great job of it, but you're talking to me, and I'm not nearly as smart. Still alive, though, unlike him. For now.
All I can tell you is that it involves particle shunting, the fabric of the universe, time dilation, and the end of our species.
The effects rippled outward from Geneva, encircling the globe. Reports of missing people, of abandoned children and infants, confused elderly people...mass confusion, no one was where they were supposed to be. So many people out of place. Or out of time, depending.
I don't know who figured it out. I think it was a theory, but it's sort of like the theory of gravity -- utterly plausible, and no one else has a better guess.
Apparently, something about REM sleep now triggered a shunt into alternate timelines, and when you woke up, you'd be in the physical body of that version of yourself. There's another theory floating around that dreams are us tapping into these alternate timelines, but we'll never know.
You know how easy it is to die in your sleep? It's super-common. Apparently, crazy shit happens to neurons, the heartbeat, etc when you're asleep. It's a risk we all take.
Well, now imagine that while you're sleeping, you shunt into the 96-year old version of yourself and have a heart attack. Or the version of you before you lost all the weight and the diabetes. Instant sugar crash, coma, and death. Or the version before the heart valve-surgery.
Imagine it. Going to sleep ready for tomorrow's 16th birthday party and dying peacefully in your sleep of a stroke at 84. All within hours.
With so many new ways to die in your sleep, we lost hundreds of thousands daily. Some folks, once they figured it out, tried to avoid sleep. There's a reason people sleep....and dying while you're doing it is way better than dying from a lack of it.
There aren't many of us left now. Statistically, you're more likely to die than wake up, considering how many alternate versions of ourselves there are. Every dream may be your last. | "Eh guess ill have to call Carl today" A young sounding man said "He seems to be about 30 today".
"Thanks Mr.Vince" I replied to my boss.
"Take care John" He giggles as he disconnects.
"Im pretty lucky to have such a nice boss" I tiptoe my way down from the stool I was standing on."Woah" I almost lose my footing but manage to eventually step down.'Well the nature of my job also helps'.
'Slow steps, the change in body mass always messes with me' I check social media wanting to know whether any of friends were free.
"...Well thats fine we'll meet some other time Alice" I disconnect and fall on the sofa.'Seems like everyone is either too young or too old'.I pick up a book on philosophy.'Might as well catch up on my reading'.
Carl pov
I look around the hospital noticing the amount of people."Seems like we have a huge crowd today"I say.
"Yeah many of your colleagues are too young today" Mr.Vince said.He seemed around 16 today. A senior doctor who we report to.
"Well nothing we can do about that send them in" I enter the office. Two people enter together. A man in his 50s and a women in her 20s
"What seems to be the issue?" I say.
"My girlfriends age seems to have not changed I'm worried that something might be wrong".The man says.
"How long has her age remained the same" I say.
"About a week I'm not sure what to do" As he said that I understood what was going on.
"Well it seems you haven't been given the talk *sigh* parents these day ,well a simple Google search would have been enough" I put my elbows on the desk and rest my head on my joint arms.
"She's pregnant" I say.
Charlie Pov
"Another homicide huh" I say as I check the corpse. "Age 17 at the time of death, cause of death blood loss due to excessive cuts".
I go take a smoke but its snatched from my hand."Rose I'd rather you not touch my property" I say trying to get my cigarette but she holds it above my head.
"You're about 10-12 today so no" Rose replied
.She seemed about mid 20s today.
"Fine whatever" I head back to the police car with rose.She takes the wheel as I sit in the passenger seat.
"Couple of low lifes aren't they, going for the homeless when they're young and kidnapping and torturing them" I say looking out the window.
"Yeah the protection we provide isn't helping.Crime rates keep getting hire it's a surprise how the economy is still stable. Overall population seems to be increasing tremendously." She replies.
"Yeah the stasis during pregnancy, women seem to be getting pregnant more to remain at a stable age"I reply.
"And court cases also seem to drag on forever, they might as well it seems" She says.
"Yeah this isn't going to be improving any time soon" I stop and look out the window staring at the scenery "What A strange strange world we live in". |
edit: [someone called me out so here's the original](https://twitter.com/TheAndrewNadeau/status/1221583159759904769?s=19) | [WP] There’s a parallel universe where people age non-linearly, and every day you have no idea how old you’ll wake up. So sometimes you’d have to call into work like, “Sorry, can’t make it in today, I’m 7.” | **first time writing on this sub, critizizm welcomed.**
I got up in my queen sized bed and immediantly realized I wouldnt be going to work today. My real age was 23, but today I woke up as a 7 year old. Well this is gonna be a fun conversation.
"Hey boss. You got anyone who could come in today?"
"How old is it, Steve?"
"I'm 7."
"let me see if conner is working age."
*click*
This has been a routin conversation for about a year now. I knew that if someone could come in he wouldnt call me back to my programming 9-5 job, so i went to make some breakfast.
*shit.* i forgot to put the food within the reach of a 3 year old yesterday. Well this is gon a be tough...
After i had my honey puffs, i decided to get on reddit. The top post on r/writingprompts was, "instead of aging bieng random, there is an alternate universe where it is leniear." Seems interesting, might as well give it a shot.
*this is my first post on writingprompts. Criticism is welcomed*
As i got out of bed i immediantly realixed i wouldnt be able to go to my 9-5 programming job, as I had just thrown up. *well this is gonna be a fun conversation.*
"Hey, boss? You got anyone who can come in today? I just threw up."
"Alright, Conner. Let me see if steve can come in."
That went a lot better than i thought it would. He isnt a good boss, normmaly he would start screaming at me. Alright, time for brekfast.
Shit. We are out off cocoa puffs AND honeynut Cheerios? Welp, lets go to Wal-Mart...
After breakfast I decided i would get on r/writingprompts. The top post
>was [WP] There’s a parallel universe where people age non-linearly, and every day you have no idea how old you’ll wake up. So sometimes you’d have to call into work like, “Sorry, can’t make it in today, I’m 7.”
Thought itd be interesting, ill give it a shot.
**first time writing on this sub, critizizm welcomed.**
I got up in my queen sized bed and immediantly realized I wouldnt be going to work today. My real age was 23, but today I woke up as a 7 year old. Well this is gonna be a fun conversation.
"Hey boss. You got anyone who could come in today?"
"How old is it, Steve?"
"I'm 7."
"let me see if conner is working age."
*click*
This has been a routin conversation for about a year now. I knew that if someone could come in he wouldnt call me back to my programming 9-5 job, so i went to make some breakfast.
*shit.* i forgot to put the food within the reach of a 3 year old yesterday. Well this is gon a be tough...
After i had my honey puffs, i decided to get on reddit. The top post on r/writingprompts was, "instead of aging bieng random, there is an alternate universe where it is leniear." Seems interesting, might as well give it a shot.
*this is my first post on writingprompts. Criticism is welcomed*
As i got out of bed i immediantly realixed i wouldnt be able to go to my 9-5 programming job, as I had just thrown up. *well this is gonna be a fun conversation.*
"Hey, boss? You got anyone who can come in today? I just threw up."
"Alright, Conner. Let me see if steve can come in."
That went a lot better than i thought it would. He isnt a good boss, normmaly he would start screaming at me. Alright, time for brekfast.
Shit. We are out off cocoa puffs AND honeynut Cheerios? Welp, lets go to Wal-Mart...
After breakfast I decided i would get on r/writingprompts. The top post
>was [WP] There’s a parallel universe where people age non-linearly, and every day you have no idea how old you’ll wake up. So sometimes you’d have to call into work like, “Sorry, can’t make it in today, I’m 7.”
Thought itd be interesting, ill give it a shot.
**first time writing on this sub, critizizm welcomed.**
I got up in my queen sized bed and immediantly realized I wouldnt be going to work today. My real age was 23, but today I woke up as a 7 year old. Well this is gonna be a fun conversation.
"Hey boss. You got anyone who could come in today?"
"How old is it, Steve?"
"I'm 7."
"let me see if conner is working age."
*click*
This has been a routin conversation for about a year now. I knew that if someone could come in he wouldnt call me back to my programming 9-5 job, so i went to make some breakfast.
*shit.* i forgot to put the food within the reach of a 3 year old yesterday. Well this is gon a be tough...
After i had my honey puffs, i decided to get on reddit. The top post on r/writingprompts was, "instead of aging bieng random, there is an alternate universe where it is leniear." Seems interesting, might as well give it a shot.
*this is my first post on writingprompts. Criticism is welcomed*
As i got out of bed i immediantly realixed i wouldnt be able to go to my 9-5 programming job, as I had just thrown up. *well this is gonna be a fun conversation.*
"Hey, boss? You got anyone who can come in today? I just threw up."
"Alright, Conner. Let me see if steve can come in."
That went a lot better than i thought it would. He isnt a good boss, normmaly he would start screaming at me. Alright, time for brekfast.
Shit. We are out off cocoa puffs AND honeynut Cheerios? Welp, lets go to Wal-Mart...
After breakfast I decided i would get on r/writingprompts. The top post
>was [WP] There’s a parallel universe where people age non-linearly, and every day you have no idea how old you’ll wake up. So sometimes you’d have to call into work like, “Sorry, can’t make it in today, I’m 7.”
Thought itd be interesting, ill give it a shot.
**first time writing on this sub, critizizm welcomed.**
I got up in my queen sized bed and immediantly realized I wouldnt be going to work today. My real age was 23, but today I woke up as a 7 year old. Well this is gonna be a fun conversation.
"Hey boss. You got anyone who could come in today?"
"How old is it, Steve?"
"I'm 7."
"let me see if conner is working age."
*click*
This has been a routin conversation for about a year now. I knew that if someone could come in he wouldnt call me back to my programming 9-5 job, so i went to make some breakfast.
*shit.* i forgot to put the food within the reach of a 3 year old yesterday. Well this is gon a be tough...
After i had my honey puffs, i decided to get on reddit. The top post on r/writingprompts was, "instead of aging bieng random, there is an alternate universe where it is leniear." Seems interesting, might as well give it a shot.
*this is my first post on writingprompts. Criticism is welcomed*
As i got out of bed i immediantly realixed i wouldnt be able to go to my 9-5 programming job, as I had just thrown up. *well this is gonna be a fun conversation.*
"Hey, boss? You got anyone who can come in today? I just threw up."
"Alright, Conner. Let me see if steve can come in."
That went a lot better than i thought it would. He isnt a good boss, normmaly he would start screaming at me. Alright, time for brekfast.
Shit. We are out off cocoa puffs AND honeynut Cheerios? Welp, lets go to Wal-Mart...
After breakfast I decided i would get on r/writingprompts. The top post
>was [WP] There’s a parallel universe where people age non-linearly, and every day you have no idea how old you’ll wake up. So sometimes you’d have to call into work like, “Sorry, can’t make it in today, I’m 7.”
Thought itd be interesting, ill give it a shot.
**first time writing on this sub, critizizm welcomed.**
I got up in my queen sized bed and immediantly realized I wouldnt be going to work today. My real age was 23, but today I woke up as a 7 year old. Well this is gonna be a fun conversation.
"Hey boss. You got anyone who could come in today?"
"How old is it, Steve?"
"I'm 7."
"let me see if conner is working age."
*click*
This has been a routin conversation for about a year now. I knew that if someone could come in he wouldnt call me back to my programming 9-5 job, so i went to make some breakfast.
*shit.* i forgot to put the food within the reach of a 3 year old yesterday. Well this is gon a be tough...
After i had my honey puffs, i decided to get on reddit. The top post on r/writingprompts was, "instead of aging bieng random, there is an alternate universe where it is leniear." Seems interesting, might as well give it a shot.
*this is my first post on writingprompts. Criticism is welcomed*
As i got out of bed i immediantly realixed i wouldnt be able to go to my 9-5 programming job, as I had just thrown up. *well this is gonna be a fun conversation.*
"Hey, boss? You got anyone who can come in today? I just threw up."
"Alright, Conner. Let me see if steve can come in."
That went a lot better than i thought it would. He isnt a good boss, normmaly he would start screaming at me. Alright, time for brekfast.
Shit. We are out off cocoa puffs AND honeynut Cheerios? Welp, lets go to Wal-Mart...
After breakfast I decided i would get on r/writingprompts. The top post
>was [WP] There’s a parallel universe where people age non-linearly, and every day you have no idea how old you’ll wake up. So sometimes you’d have to call into work like, “Sorry, can’t make it in today, I’m 7.”
Thought itd be interesting, ill give it a shot.
**first time writing on this sub, critizizm welcomed.**
I got up in my queen sized bed and immediantly realized I wouldnt be going to work today... | "Eh guess ill have to call Carl today" A young sounding man said "He seems to be about 30 today".
"Thanks Mr.Vince" I replied to my boss.
"Take care John" He giggles as he disconnects.
"Im pretty lucky to have such a nice boss" I tiptoe my way down from the stool I was standing on."Woah" I almost lose my footing but manage to eventually step down.'Well the nature of my job also helps'.
'Slow steps, the change in body mass always messes with me' I check social media wanting to know whether any of friends were free.
"...Well thats fine we'll meet some other time Alice" I disconnect and fall on the sofa.'Seems like everyone is either too young or too old'.I pick up a book on philosophy.'Might as well catch up on my reading'.
Carl pov
I look around the hospital noticing the amount of people."Seems like we have a huge crowd today"I say.
"Yeah many of your colleagues are too young today" Mr.Vince said.He seemed around 16 today. A senior doctor who we report to.
"Well nothing we can do about that send them in" I enter the office. Two people enter together. A man in his 50s and a women in her 20s
"What seems to be the issue?" I say.
"My girlfriends age seems to have not changed I'm worried that something might be wrong".The man says.
"How long has her age remained the same" I say.
"About a week I'm not sure what to do" As he said that I understood what was going on.
"Well it seems you haven't been given the talk *sigh* parents these day ,well a simple Google search would have been enough" I put my elbows on the desk and rest my head on my joint arms.
"She's pregnant" I say.
Charlie Pov
"Another homicide huh" I say as I check the corpse. "Age 17 at the time of death, cause of death blood loss due to excessive cuts".
I go take a smoke but its snatched from my hand."Rose I'd rather you not touch my property" I say trying to get my cigarette but she holds it above my head.
"You're about 10-12 today so no" Rose replied
.She seemed about mid 20s today.
"Fine whatever" I head back to the police car with rose.She takes the wheel as I sit in the passenger seat.
"Couple of low lifes aren't they, going for the homeless when they're young and kidnapping and torturing them" I say looking out the window.
"Yeah the protection we provide isn't helping.Crime rates keep getting hire it's a surprise how the economy is still stable. Overall population seems to be increasing tremendously." She replies.
"Yeah the stasis during pregnancy, women seem to be getting pregnant more to remain at a stable age"I reply.
"And court cases also seem to drag on forever, they might as well it seems" She says.
"Yeah this isn't going to be improving any time soon" I stop and look out the window staring at the scenery "What A strange strange world we live in". |
edit: [someone called me out so here's the original](https://twitter.com/TheAndrewNadeau/status/1221583159759904769?s=19) | [WP] There’s a parallel universe where people age non-linearly, and every day you have no idea how old you’ll wake up. So sometimes you’d have to call into work like, “Sorry, can’t make it in today, I’m 7.” | *Don't close your eyes*
*Buddy, hey buddy .. keep your eyes open.*
# Wednesday 19 November 2019 - 5:00am
The slap when it landed was hot and stinging. Taken by surprise, my eyes sprang open. I poked my head out of the window. It was no use. The November air embraced me in its warmth. I paced the small room. Two hours to go. 120 minutes and a new life starts. My eyes drooped again, leaning against the window cill.
Another slap across the face. I expected it this time, it had no effect. I felt the annoyance rise. Irritated. I can do this. I stared at the large brown duffel bag by my feet - N5M in cash. The heist had gone seamlessly. Everything worked according to plan. No one was after me. Once I returned the hire car, I was scot free. I fingered the one-way ticket in my trouser pocket. 27 and a millionaire, I had cracked it.
**110 minutes 10 seconds to go**
The herbalist was correct, the waking age is linked to the size of the meals eaten the day before. I brought in small chops, samosas, puff-puff, akara, dodo. plenty, plenty ... I told them it was my birthday and they fell for it. All day munching - free food.
Mr Sanusi was the branch manager. Greedy selfish bastard. He had berated me the day before, calling me Olodo (*stupid)* in front of my colleagues. Now he stuck his pudgy brown fingers into the food box. *I wish I could see their faces.*
Kemi stood nearby, licking her fingers - she had taken all the samosas. I fancied Kemi like mad. She was petite, curvy with the most seductive eyes I had ever seen. She fluttered them at all the male customers. She never looked up at me. Signed all the paperwork, cheques, forms, and tossed them back as if I did not exist. I bought her flowers and chocolates once - she tossed them aside.
I looked at my bag. Five million naira. *Stay awake, you can do this.*
**90 minutes 34 seconds to go**
The brilliance of the heist was that no one knew what was happening. 90% of the office had come in as 7 year olds. The bank had a policy that employees must come to work regardless of their ages. If the average age was below 18, then the oldest person pressed a panic button which alerts the head office.
I was first in the office - still 27.
**30 minutes 12 seconds to go**
I looked at the illuminated dial on my watch.
I had done it! I looked at out my second floor flat, Lagos was beginning to wake. in half an hour, my age would be unchanged for the day. I was Leke. 27. Rich. Leaving this shit-hole of a place. I imagined myself in Dubai. I will rent an apartment on Palm Island. Spend lazy afternoons in the balmy waters of Jumeirah Beach, floating.
'I should give myself another slap,' I thought as I enjoyed my new life.
# Wednesday 19 November 2019 - 7:01am
I woke up with a start. *Thud Thud Thud,* my heartbeat. I reached for my watch. It lay on the ground. How? I was still standing against the window sill, but I could not see outside. I got on my tip toe and strained my neck to see. Lagos had woken up. The honk of motorcycles, mothers yelling at children, the madness had started.
The madness was coming for me.
I turned round, slid down the wall, head in hands and rocked.
Five years old.
​
(Reddit newbie - Writing prompt newbie)
Not really sure what to do next, but I gave it a go. | "Eh guess ill have to call Carl today" A young sounding man said "He seems to be about 30 today".
"Thanks Mr.Vince" I replied to my boss.
"Take care John" He giggles as he disconnects.
"Im pretty lucky to have such a nice boss" I tiptoe my way down from the stool I was standing on."Woah" I almost lose my footing but manage to eventually step down.'Well the nature of my job also helps'.
'Slow steps, the change in body mass always messes with me' I check social media wanting to know whether any of friends were free.
"...Well thats fine we'll meet some other time Alice" I disconnect and fall on the sofa.'Seems like everyone is either too young or too old'.I pick up a book on philosophy.'Might as well catch up on my reading'.
Carl pov
I look around the hospital noticing the amount of people."Seems like we have a huge crowd today"I say.
"Yeah many of your colleagues are too young today" Mr.Vince said.He seemed around 16 today. A senior doctor who we report to.
"Well nothing we can do about that send them in" I enter the office. Two people enter together. A man in his 50s and a women in her 20s
"What seems to be the issue?" I say.
"My girlfriends age seems to have not changed I'm worried that something might be wrong".The man says.
"How long has her age remained the same" I say.
"About a week I'm not sure what to do" As he said that I understood what was going on.
"Well it seems you haven't been given the talk *sigh* parents these day ,well a simple Google search would have been enough" I put my elbows on the desk and rest my head on my joint arms.
"She's pregnant" I say.
Charlie Pov
"Another homicide huh" I say as I check the corpse. "Age 17 at the time of death, cause of death blood loss due to excessive cuts".
I go take a smoke but its snatched from my hand."Rose I'd rather you not touch my property" I say trying to get my cigarette but she holds it above my head.
"You're about 10-12 today so no" Rose replied
.She seemed about mid 20s today.
"Fine whatever" I head back to the police car with rose.She takes the wheel as I sit in the passenger seat.
"Couple of low lifes aren't they, going for the homeless when they're young and kidnapping and torturing them" I say looking out the window.
"Yeah the protection we provide isn't helping.Crime rates keep getting hire it's a surprise how the economy is still stable. Overall population seems to be increasing tremendously." She replies.
"Yeah the stasis during pregnancy, women seem to be getting pregnant more to remain at a stable age"I reply.
"And court cases also seem to drag on forever, they might as well it seems" She says.
"Yeah this isn't going to be improving any time soon" I stop and look out the window staring at the scenery "What A strange strange world we live in". |
edit: [someone called me out so here's the original](https://twitter.com/TheAndrewNadeau/status/1221583159759904769?s=19) | [WP] There’s a parallel universe where people age non-linearly, and every day you have no idea how old you’ll wake up. So sometimes you’d have to call into work like, “Sorry, can’t make it in today, I’m 7.” | **first time writing on this sub, critizizm welcomed.**
I got up in my queen sized bed and immediantly realized I wouldnt be going to work today. My real age was 23, but today I woke up as a 7 year old. Well this is gonna be a fun conversation.
"Hey boss. You got anyone who could come in today?"
"How old is it, Steve?"
"I'm 7."
"let me see if conner is working age."
*click*
This has been a routin conversation for about a year now. I knew that if someone could come in he wouldnt call me back to my programming 9-5 job, so i went to make some breakfast.
*shit.* i forgot to put the food within the reach of a 3 year old yesterday. Well this is gon a be tough...
After i had my honey puffs, i decided to get on reddit. The top post on r/writingprompts was, "instead of aging bieng random, there is an alternate universe where it is leniear." Seems interesting, might as well give it a shot.
*this is my first post on writingprompts. Criticism is welcomed*
As i got out of bed i immediantly realixed i wouldnt be able to go to my 9-5 programming job, as I had just thrown up. *well this is gonna be a fun conversation.*
"Hey, boss? You got anyone who can come in today? I just threw up."
"Alright, Conner. Let me see if steve can come in."
That went a lot better than i thought it would. He isnt a good boss, normmaly he would start screaming at me. Alright, time for brekfast.
Shit. We are out off cocoa puffs AND honeynut Cheerios? Welp, lets go to Wal-Mart...
After breakfast I decided i would get on r/writingprompts. The top post
>was [WP] There’s a parallel universe where people age non-linearly, and every day you have no idea how old you’ll wake up. So sometimes you’d have to call into work like, “Sorry, can’t make it in today, I’m 7.”
Thought itd be interesting, ill give it a shot.
**first time writing on this sub, critizizm welcomed.**
I got up in my queen sized bed and immediantly realized I wouldnt be going to work today. My real age was 23, but today I woke up as a 7 year old. Well this is gonna be a fun conversation.
"Hey boss. You got anyone who could come in today?"
"How old is it, Steve?"
"I'm 7."
"let me see if conner is working age."
*click*
This has been a routin conversation for about a year now. I knew that if someone could come in he wouldnt call me back to my programming 9-5 job, so i went to make some breakfast.
*shit.* i forgot to put the food within the reach of a 3 year old yesterday. Well this is gon a be tough...
After i had my honey puffs, i decided to get on reddit. The top post on r/writingprompts was, "instead of aging bieng random, there is an alternate universe where it is leniear." Seems interesting, might as well give it a shot.
*this is my first post on writingprompts. Criticism is welcomed*
As i got out of bed i immediantly realixed i wouldnt be able to go to my 9-5 programming job, as I had just thrown up. *well this is gonna be a fun conversation.*
"Hey, boss? You got anyone who can come in today? I just threw up."
"Alright, Conner. Let me see if steve can come in."
That went a lot better than i thought it would. He isnt a good boss, normmaly he would start screaming at me. Alright, time for brekfast.
Shit. We are out off cocoa puffs AND honeynut Cheerios? Welp, lets go to Wal-Mart...
After breakfast I decided i would get on r/writingprompts. The top post
>was [WP] There’s a parallel universe where people age non-linearly, and every day you have no idea how old you’ll wake up. So sometimes you’d have to call into work like, “Sorry, can’t make it in today, I’m 7.”
Thought itd be interesting, ill give it a shot.
**first time writing on this sub, critizizm welcomed.**
I got up in my queen sized bed and immediantly realized I wouldnt be going to work today. My real age was 23, but today I woke up as a 7 year old. Well this is gonna be a fun conversation.
"Hey boss. You got anyone who could come in today?"
"How old is it, Steve?"
"I'm 7."
"let me see if conner is working age."
*click*
This has been a routin conversation for about a year now. I knew that if someone could come in he wouldnt call me back to my programming 9-5 job, so i went to make some breakfast.
*shit.* i forgot to put the food within the reach of a 3 year old yesterday. Well this is gon a be tough...
After i had my honey puffs, i decided to get on reddit. The top post on r/writingprompts was, "instead of aging bieng random, there is an alternate universe where it is leniear." Seems interesting, might as well give it a shot.
*this is my first post on writingprompts. Criticism is welcomed*
As i got out of bed i immediantly realixed i wouldnt be able to go to my 9-5 programming job, as I had just thrown up. *well this is gonna be a fun conversation.*
"Hey, boss? You got anyone who can come in today? I just threw up."
"Alright, Conner. Let me see if steve can come in."
That went a lot better than i thought it would. He isnt a good boss, normmaly he would start screaming at me. Alright, time for brekfast.
Shit. We are out off cocoa puffs AND honeynut Cheerios? Welp, lets go to Wal-Mart...
After breakfast I decided i would get on r/writingprompts. The top post
>was [WP] There’s a parallel universe where people age non-linearly, and every day you have no idea how old you’ll wake up. So sometimes you’d have to call into work like, “Sorry, can’t make it in today, I’m 7.”
Thought itd be interesting, ill give it a shot.
**first time writing on this sub, critizizm welcomed.**
I got up in my queen sized bed and immediantly realized I wouldnt be going to work today. My real age was 23, but today I woke up as a 7 year old. Well this is gonna be a fun conversation.
"Hey boss. You got anyone who could come in today?"
"How old is it, Steve?"
"I'm 7."
"let me see if conner is working age."
*click*
This has been a routin conversation for about a year now. I knew that if someone could come in he wouldnt call me back to my programming 9-5 job, so i went to make some breakfast.
*shit.* i forgot to put the food within the reach of a 3 year old yesterday. Well this is gon a be tough...
After i had my honey puffs, i decided to get on reddit. The top post on r/writingprompts was, "instead of aging bieng random, there is an alternate universe where it is leniear." Seems interesting, might as well give it a shot.
*this is my first post on writingprompts. Criticism is welcomed*
As i got out of bed i immediantly realixed i wouldnt be able to go to my 9-5 programming job, as I had just thrown up. *well this is gonna be a fun conversation.*
"Hey, boss? You got anyone who can come in today? I just threw up."
"Alright, Conner. Let me see if steve can come in."
That went a lot better than i thought it would. He isnt a good boss, normmaly he would start screaming at me. Alright, time for brekfast.
Shit. We are out off cocoa puffs AND honeynut Cheerios? Welp, lets go to Wal-Mart...
After breakfast I decided i would get on r/writingprompts. The top post
>was [WP] There’s a parallel universe where people age non-linearly, and every day you have no idea how old you’ll wake up. So sometimes you’d have to call into work like, “Sorry, can’t make it in today, I’m 7.”
Thought itd be interesting, ill give it a shot.
**first time writing on this sub, critizizm welcomed.**
I got up in my queen sized bed and immediantly realized I wouldnt be going to work today. My real age was 23, but today I woke up as a 7 year old. Well this is gonna be a fun conversation.
"Hey boss. You got anyone who could come in today?"
"How old is it, Steve?"
"I'm 7."
"let me see if conner is working age."
*click*
This has been a routin conversation for about a year now. I knew that if someone could come in he wouldnt call me back to my programming 9-5 job, so i went to make some breakfast.
*shit.* i forgot to put the food within the reach of a 3 year old yesterday. Well this is gon a be tough...
After i had my honey puffs, i decided to get on reddit. The top post on r/writingprompts was, "instead of aging bieng random, there is an alternate universe where it is leniear." Seems interesting, might as well give it a shot.
*this is my first post on writingprompts. Criticism is welcomed*
As i got out of bed i immediantly realixed i wouldnt be able to go to my 9-5 programming job, as I had just thrown up. *well this is gonna be a fun conversation.*
"Hey, boss? You got anyone who can come in today? I just threw up."
"Alright, Conner. Let me see if steve can come in."
That went a lot better than i thought it would. He isnt a good boss, normmaly he would start screaming at me. Alright, time for brekfast.
Shit. We are out off cocoa puffs AND honeynut Cheerios? Welp, lets go to Wal-Mart...
After breakfast I decided i would get on r/writingprompts. The top post
>was [WP] There’s a parallel universe where people age non-linearly, and every day you have no idea how old you’ll wake up. So sometimes you’d have to call into work like, “Sorry, can’t make it in today, I’m 7.”
Thought itd be interesting, ill give it a shot.
**first time writing on this sub, critizizm welcomed.**
I got up in my queen sized bed and immediantly realized I wouldnt be going to work today... | Ever since the *Large Hadron Collider* experiments, aging has been a dicey proposition.
I couldn't explain what happened. Neil DeGrasse Tyson did a pretty great job of it, but you're talking to me, and I'm not nearly as smart. Still alive, though, unlike him. For now.
All I can tell you is that it involves particle shunting, the fabric of the universe, time dilation, and the end of our species.
The effects rippled outward from Geneva, encircling the globe. Reports of missing people, of abandoned children and infants, confused elderly people...mass confusion, no one was where they were supposed to be. So many people out of place. Or out of time, depending.
I don't know who figured it out. I think it was a theory, but it's sort of like the theory of gravity -- utterly plausible, and no one else has a better guess.
Apparently, something about REM sleep now triggered a shunt into alternate timelines, and when you woke up, you'd be in the physical body of that version of yourself. There's another theory floating around that dreams are us tapping into these alternate timelines, but we'll never know.
You know how easy it is to die in your sleep? It's super-common. Apparently, crazy shit happens to neurons, the heartbeat, etc when you're asleep. It's a risk we all take.
Well, now imagine that while you're sleeping, you shunt into the 96-year old version of yourself and have a heart attack. Or the version of you before you lost all the weight and the diabetes. Instant sugar crash, coma, and death. Or the version before the heart valve-surgery.
Imagine it. Going to sleep ready for tomorrow's 16th birthday party and dying peacefully in your sleep of a stroke at 84. All within hours.
With so many new ways to die in your sleep, we lost hundreds of thousands daily. Some folks, once they figured it out, tried to avoid sleep. There's a reason people sleep....and dying while you're doing it is way better than dying from a lack of it.
There aren't many of us left now. Statistically, you're more likely to die than wake up, considering how many alternate versions of ourselves there are. Every dream may be your last. |
edit: [someone called me out so here's the original](https://twitter.com/TheAndrewNadeau/status/1221583159759904769?s=19) | [WP] There’s a parallel universe where people age non-linearly, and every day you have no idea how old you’ll wake up. So sometimes you’d have to call into work like, “Sorry, can’t make it in today, I’m 7.” | “Morning, dad! You’re looking young today.” I felt exuberant standing in front of the shared closet, looking for something that would fit my pre-pubescent frame. The pajama top I woke up in was hanging like a dress past my knees, and I left the shorts where they fell when I got out of bed.
Dad was a lithe 30-something today, and it looked good on him. His actual 63 years were hidden behind his restored hairline, the wrinkles of his older face erased, or more accurately, not around yet.
“You too, kiddo! This is what, seven, eight?” He smiled and rested a hand on my head before turning back to the Business section of the family closet, looking for something in his new size. At 63 he wasn’t working a regular job but he still fills in when the Medical Center is having a Young Day and his age for the day can handle it.
I found a pair of overalls and a tee shirt that mirrored my new youthful feeling and I thought would fit. “It feels like seven to me. I just want to eat Fruity Pebbles and watch Kim Possible all day!” He shook his head and grinned as I giggled and skipped back to my bedroom to change.
His muffled shout came through the bedroom door, “Oh, don’t forget we’re going to visit your sister and the baby after work. She should be ready to come home soon!”
As excited as I was to have Charlie back in the house, I wished little Henry would be coming home with her. It had been about six months since the day Charlie woke up pregnant, went into labor around lunch time and was admitted to Neumann Holding Center. She wouldn’t be able to stay much longer. She’d still get to see her new little baby every day, but the technology needed to make her live a linear ageline was too costly for it to be spent on someone who was healthy and recovered. The center was only for women giving birth or breastfeeding and babies who aren’t yet “viable”. Daily life was too unpredictable for them to be out in the community. If you can’t walk, communicate and understand the word “no”, you stay in Holding. I was only in Holding for the first year and eight months of my life. It took Charlie 2 1/2 years to be able to talk enough to be viable. Our twin brothers Phinn and Phil were perfect in this, like everything else, and busted out of Holding exactly one year and three months after they were born. I think the staff was just tired of having those two in there and couldn’t wait any longer.
I got dressed, grateful that today was a Saturday and while Dad could get called in on the weekend the school was closed. Teaching in this world was stressful enough without having to do it in the body of the kids I was teaching. Thankfully the educating part was done via recorded lessons and I was in a support position. Professors spent their adult days studying, reading, and recording lessons for the rest of the community so that at least education could be linear. Days when the whole teaching staff woke up younger than their students weren’t as much of a problem when they weren’t required to master the tough subjects. That has only happened three times in my teaching career and every time we’ve called it a pajama day and watched “educational cartoons” all day.
Usually though, things in this community go smoothly. Living in family groups ensures that when we woke up too young to fend for ourselves, someone else would be there to help. Having the resources needed for every stage of life would be impossible if I was living on my own, but in this house we all have everything we need. There have been a few mornings that this 24 year old was glad to have a walker and arthritis cream in storage. The mornings that I feel like a 30 year old and Mom and Dad wake up in little, barely viable bodies are the weirdest. And when Roman spends the night and we wake up… different. Being 24 with a 26 year old boyfriend is an age difference, waking up being 45 with a 26 year old boyfriend stuck with the mental capacity and bathroom habits of a two-year-old is something else. Mom was 17 that day and was such a great help. We couldn’t send Roman home, his family was having a Young Day, so he stayed over again. The next day I was about five and my 18 year old boyfriend held my hand as we crossed the street and he took me on a “date” for ice cream. Even when we’re in completely different places, we’re there for each other. We all are. | Today I am at least 45, how disappointing. My body aches with the sudden growth overnight, since yesterday I was around the age of ten. I miss the energy I had. When I woke up I was able to bound right out of bed, jump the stairs, soar like a plane through the kitchen and eat all the sugary cereal that I normally avoid to keep my figure.
I am actually 23 years old, and still live with my parents. Yesterday, thank goodness, they were around their normal ages of 55 and 58. I know they did not enjoy having to put up with an energetic ten year old again when their own bodies were so tired.
As I stretch, trying to get out of bed, I hear a distinct crash. Like the breaking of glass on a tile floor. "That can't be good..." I think out loud.
"Abby! Daddy broke the antique bowl that my mother gave me!" My mom yells, her voice is even more unpleasant than the breaking of glass. By the high pitch tone of it, my mom is probably no older than five today.
The wails begin.
"Bloody fantastic..." I grumble out loud while rubbing my eyes. I hate days like this, where the roles are reversed. I have to be the parent to my parents. Even though mentally they are still their ages, physically they are not, and they relish in the fact that their bodies can do almost anything again.
"Abby, your mom is upset because she thinks I broke the bowl, but it was in fact her. She was trying to reach the cupboards and I was just trying to help her," my dad tells me calmly.
I look up and there my dad stands in the doorway. He is about half the height of the seven foot tall door and looks very similar to how I looked yesterday. Short brown hair, soft, rosy cheeks and large bright green eyes. He must be around ten as well, so he is going to be *slightly* more mature than my mom today.
I stand up while rubbing my back, my hips ache with the sudden onset of age like they normally do. "Okay, dad. What do you need me to do?"
He gives me an apologetic smile. "Well, can you help us clean up? I can't reach the dust pan and your mom is crying up a storm."
I try not to roll my eyes, but I fail. "Sure, but you are going to have to help me control mom. I get it, she loves to be young again, but you guys are going to be the death of me."
He laughs. "Well, son, all I can say is I understand the feeling."
I can't help but grin. "Yeah, yeah. Let's get this day over with and hopefully tomorrow we can be as close to normal as possible."
My mom suddenly shows up next to my dad, her eyes are puffy and almost swollen shut. She is sucking in her bottom lip, trying to control her sobs. "You - you guys ar- are so - so me - mean..."
This time my dad rolls his eyes and I close my eyes while shaking my head.
*If only we aged normally... then I would never have to baby my parents,* I think longingly. |
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