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[WP] The attempted assassination of a human dignitary at a galactic summit goes awry. Turns out, many of the conventional toxins in an alien assassin's repertoire include compounds like caffeine, theobromine and capsaicin; lethal to many species, but... less than effective on humans. | The sharp intake of breath, the wide eyes, the elevated temperature in the throat and neck, spreading down into the stomach. All these are expected symptoms of the deadly poison extracted from the excretions of the sac fungi found on the plains of Straka III.
The shaking expected afterwards is supposed to be a series of uncontrollable spasms as a being’s organs shut down one by one. No living being in all of Union space had ever survived more than a single hour. Many died in seconds as their insides dissolved.
But the shaking was different this time. It was a quick right, left, right, left of the accursed human’s head, followed by an amazed “Wow!”
The human looked at the glass he was holding. In it was enough of the liquid to kill a Carmellian Bisax. It seemed to be calculating. It knew what I had tried to do.
It looked me dead in the eye, it’s predatory eyes locked unblinking on mine, and it showed its fangs and teeth in an aggressive display of dominance.
And then it _drank the rest of the poison_.
Then it laughed.
“That is some seriously good booze you have there, Squishy.”
My name is Squis’shi. The callous disregard for my honour and name is one of the reasons I agreed to this assassination mission.
It looked at the empty glass, and ran its tongue tentacle over the terrifying teeth.
“You got any more of this? I know people that would pay good money for this stuff.”
——
_much later_
——
Human Damien was staggering a bit, and slurring his words, “I thought you were a bit of an idiot, Squis’shi. You’re alright, you are.”
He hadn’t drunk this much since he left Mars University over ten years ago. He was probably going to have a hangover, but this stuff was pure liquid gold.
——
I have regained my honour. The human at last uses my given name, full of deference and respect. He obviously recognises my assassination attempt and thinks it worthy of a competitor.
He has signed a trade deal which will keep my family and crèche in good standing for many revolutions. Not only can I show my face there again, but I can hold my head high, even next to nestling Shrim’pii.
He was jubilant as well, and kept saying that he couldn’t wait till his trading partner Jack Daniels tried this one.
I am a little concerned that he has consumed enough of the poison to take out an entire city. I will have to be watchful around him now. He will no doubt feel the need to honour me with an assassination attempt.
I think this trade deal means I can call off our current invasion plans.
Truly, the humans only send their best. | It was the perfect plan to kill the human dignitary.
I carefully grounded the leafs wearing protective gloves and a respirator to prevent my own death. Nobody could survive that much of the dangerous tea leafs.
Now how to best disguise the poison that would be this creature's end. As I quickly looked at the available ah yes the delicious sweetness of the tetrodotoxin would disguise the taste of the tea after it was brewed in water.
It was quite the delicacy and their was no way the human would be able to turn it down. This human would pay for forgetting to tip me.
As I delivered the drink I sat it down in front of the Human who ignored my presence as he laughed at a joke told by a Bunnerian dignitary.
I watched as they drank the poison
I watched as the panic spread over them
I watched as they gasped trying to breathe
I listened as their heart beat it last feeble attempt.
As they laid motionless
As the Bunnerian dignitary tried to revive the Human
As the Favaustian dignitary looked in my direction
As the Favaustian shouted pointing at me
As the restraints were applied to my 8 tentacles
I never once looked away with my smiling face even as they placed me in the air cruiser
I had gotten justice for myself and my fellow server's.
For all the insults and dismissive gestures
For the complaining and trolling | |
[WP] The attempted assassination of a human dignitary at a galactic summit goes awry. Turns out, many of the conventional toxins in an alien assassin's repertoire include compounds like caffeine, theobromine and capsaicin; lethal to many species, but... less than effective on humans. | WHAT DO YOU MEAN HE LIKED IT!?! The words echoed throughout the Gaozuhan throne room, rattling me to my core.
"My liege, I -"
King Sufu cut me off "I do not want to hear an excuse Zax! Dignitary Wallaby is supposed to be DEAD! He is VERY MUCH ALIVE and you sit here and tell me with a straight face that he drank the poison? Do you take me for a fool? How much did the Nobunagans pay you to betray us? HOW MUCH?!"
Carefully I thought of my next words, I had done EXACTLY as the King commanded, I laced the humans "coffee" with the poison from the Nobunagans home world. The Nobunagans say it speeds up the consumers heart, starting a runaway rhythm until the consumer expires, but the human...just... drank it. He even got a second glass! All he did was complain of the drinks temperature!
"Sire, I did precisely what we planned, the human should be dead. The Earthlings and Nobunagans should be at war...I cannot explain how he...he just drank it. It defies logic"
The King sat quietly. Long he had angled for the top seat at the Galatic Citadel, the strongest warriors of the Unified forces all came from Gaozuhan, the position is rightly his. At last he spoke "these...creatures...these Earthlings think they can just appear with their technology and weaponry and usurp me well... ill show them, and you Zax... you can regain your honor"
"Anything my King" I immediately jump at the opportunity.
"Return to Nobunaga, they have another plant that we dare not speak of.. the incineratio, it can be turned to a liquid paste, use that to take care of our dear Mr Wallaby"
"It will be done sire, though the effects are most gruesome."
"Zax" the king said "If you fail me again, it will be you who drinks the poison am I clear?"
This scene is going through my mind on repeat as I sit across from Wallaby... watching him devour the poison...using it as a supplement to his buzzard wings.
"Zax buddy this sauce is unreal! The heat and flavor is so perfectly balanced man you have got to bring this stuff to Earth when you visit!"
The man does not see me bare my teeth...a nervous smile I think the humans call it
"I am a dead man" I mutter | "*Again it is just splendid to have you here with us, creation knows we need more with your kind's ambition here!*" the alien diplomat symphonically curdled before gliding away to greet another dignitary.
Nole exhaled heavily through his nostrils and, after a brief tuck of the shirt, began to look around the auditorium. He could still barely believe it, and he was literally standing there with his own eyeballs watching it happen; cosmic life, mingling among each other like a long-awaited family reunion.
He could still barely believe things were going so *smoothly*, but perhaps that was just the soldier in him. His thoughts were interrupted by a familiar voice:
"*How are you feeling captain?*"
Nole turned and was immediately grateful for the interruption. "*Mrs. Lanter, I was wondering where you sauntered off to.*"
Nataly Angelique Roderiguez-Lanter was the representative from Earth, specifically from the Gilead-Republican Conservative party. The GRC insisted that they would not be left out of any extraterrestrial negotiations now or in the future, but they didn't listen when the U.N.S.N. tried to tell them this was the intergalactic equivalent to an office cocktail party and that no such negotiations would be taking place. Go figure.
"*Oh I was trapped in a rather one sided conversation with the Keplerite ambassador, but I just think he's nervous about being here.*" She sipped water from a strange looking glass, keeping her eyes on him all the while. "*They don't have anything stronger here if you're wondering, something about different biochemistries, so they just serve water. It's good water though.*"
Nole nodded thoughtfully. The Keplerites made contact with the outer galaxy almost at the same time as Earth did, so they were kind of in the same boat. He internally chuckled when he realized that they actually came to the convention on the same ship. "*I think I understand what he's feeling, the Keplerite. On some base level this just feels, I don't know.* ***Unnerving.****"*
Nataly smiled her perfect smile. "*Well Nole just look around! There are predators and prey here, organics and machines, how can you not feel like this is a bomb waiting to go off!*"
Mrs. Lanter wearing a red silk dress with a tastefully low neckline, with crimson highlights in her jet-black hair. Even the non-simian species present took note of her beauty; It was almost comedic when she walked past the group of plant-like aliens that were literally just gigantic eyeballs on stalks.
The sight of her slender frame yanked Nole's thoughts away and forcefully made him think on his own appearance; Mrs. Lanter might be considered underweight on Earth, the high-gravity homeworld of the Human species, but Captain Nole McGowan was not from Earth. He lifted his long, lean arm, and straightened out his shirt cuff, which gave him the brief few seconds to think on the origins of his people, and the bizarre circumstances which brought him here.
Whereas the members of the wealthy Lanter family were tried and true Earthers, the McGowans of Ganymede were proud denizens of the outer system reclamation zones, what his ancestors called the "outer planets", as well as the countless asteroids in the belt. Generations of life in zero gravity had irrevocably altered the bone density of the people inhabiting the reclamation zones, and as such Nole McGowan bore the trademark features of an Outer Human: he was extremely slender, and almost three meters tall. There were countless conflicts between Inner Humans and Outer Humans over labor rights, and those conflicts continued for centuries as Humanity spread through the Sol System.
Nole internally shrugged. Those events were in the past, and he was standing in unison with an Inner on the greatest frontier Humanity had ever faced.
Perhaps Humans don't need an enemy anymore. Inners and Outers demonized each other because it gave purpose, meaning, and unity. Maybe, just maybe, this could end that sort of destructive thinking once and for all.
Dragging his thoughts back to the present, Nole answered his companion. "*I've had my fill of blood and bombs if you don't mind me saying Ma'am...I suppose it's just the shock of suddenly knowing Humans aren't so special in the grand scheme of things.*"
Nataly's smile somewhat shortened, but didn't fully vanish. She took another sip before answering:
"*Perhaps you're right Captain. It may be uncouth for me to say this, but there are many on Earth who don't want things to go back to the way they were. I feel comfortable enough telling you this as I feel the same way.*"
Nole smiled, genuinely, for the first time tonight.
Still, he felt on edge. He had seen hundreds of combat missions and had seen some of the worst battle scenarios come to pass. He had seen young and bright-eyed men and women blown to bits by railgun slugs, he had almost lost an arm rescuing hostages on one of the Neptune gas refineries, and he had narrowly escaped a U.N.S.N. vessel that was about to be blown into atomic dust by nuclear torpedoes.
He tried to convince himself this was just his natural reaction to a singularly *unnatural* environment, but something in his bones told him to be on guard.
He was eager to continue the conversation with Nataly until the room blared with an extraordinarily loud voice asking all for their attention.
The event was organized by the alien race known as the Hegemites, an insect-like species that was apparently very well respected by the galactic community. Other big players were present, but none looked really antagonistic towards each other. Nole pondered how such complex systems were able to co-exist without conflict or even the tension of conflict.
As the Hegemite Ambassador took its place addressing the massive congregation of lifeforms, it gave special thanks to a delegation of crystalline aliens for providing the venue before rather suddenly giving special thanks to the Human ambassadors.
The voice of the Hegemite Ambassador was flute-like and extremely pleasing to the ears, which Nole, and Nataly by the curious look on her face, didn't really expect, considering the Ambassador's face was an extremely large collection of mandibles and harsh-looking proboscises.
"***We wish to give special consideration to the newly discovered fledgling sentients known as the Humans.***"
The Ambassador lifted one of its chitin-plated arms out to the area where Nole and Nataly stood. He felt the many eyes of the hundreds of races of beings on him, and he felt another nervous pang in the pit of his stomach. He darted his eyes at Nataly, and saw that she was as cool as the water she was drinking.
"***When our probes first penetrated the outer edge of their system, we found them in vicious battle betwixt one another.***"
"*Jesus Christ*", Nole thought. We're going to look like monsters.
"***Brother slaying brother? We could not conceive of it. It was a conflict of resources, and discrimination among their own."***
To his surprise, the room suddenly filled with the short chortles of what appeared to be laughter. Even the Ambassador had a few small whistles of amusement.
"***A common occurrence when one thinks they are alone in the world. What made us truly inspired was what happened when our presence was discovered.***"
"***How quick it was when your kind regained unity, and now you stand before creation, and know now your tree of life stands amidst a vast forest.***"
A choir of clapping sounded across the room, and Nole found himself slowly becoming at ease. "*They're just ribbing us*", he thought to himself. "*Phew.*"
"***We wish to toast to the sentients known as the Humans of Sol, those who so eagerly wish to ascend beyond their nature. This one asks all present to please raise your cups and drink full, if you're able, to newfound brotherhood, to creation's endless bounty!***
Nole again smiled, and look to to find Nataly also smiling deeply. He began to raise his arm to toast, but realized he didn't have a cup. Nataly saw this and quietly asked a server to bring him a cup of something, and the small creature zipped away and returned as quickly as he left with a rather enticing glass of water.
The room began to fill with the sounds of the different species' toasting rituals; a race of mean-looking aliens clashed their cups together like a gang of drunken bikers, and the group of gazelle-looking creatures next to them daintily tipped their glasses together while entwining their necks together in what reminded Nole of certain ancient Earth animals mating rituals.
"*To the Humans of Sol.*", Nataly said as she raised her cup to Nole's, smiling.
"*To newfound brotherhood.*", Nole replied. Nataly's smile almost completely disappeared as they drank.
The next moment Nole had no idea what had transpired, but he felt as if he had swallowed a chunk of molten lava. He dropped his glass, he remembered hearing it shatter on the floor as he dropped to his knees. He felt the adrenaline rushing through his bloodstream, and as he forced himself up he felt as though he was a dragon breathing fire, like one of the old Earth legends. He looked and saw Nataly and a crowd of concerned looking aliens helping raise him from the ground. He brushed off the crowd and stood up.
What he saw when he stood up would haunt him for the rest of his days. The Hegemite Ambassador was writhing on the floor, gibbering in a singsong and frantically grasping at the silken robes on its insectoid frame. A few seconds later its arms ceased moving, and curled up. It was dead.
Panic looked to be spreading among the other attendants of the event, and it wasn't until another Hegemite took the stage that people started to be evacuated from the auditorium. Nole looked down at the glass that shattered on the floor, and it all came to him.
Someone had poisoned the Ambassador, and attempted to poison him, but for some reason he was still alive.
**END OF PART I** | |
[WP] The attempted assassination of a human dignitary at a galactic summit goes awry. Turns out, many of the conventional toxins in an alien assassin's repertoire include compounds like caffeine, theobromine and capsaicin; lethal to many species, but... less than effective on humans. | WHAT DO YOU MEAN HE LIKED IT!?! The words echoed throughout the Gaozuhan throne room, rattling me to my core.
"My liege, I -"
King Sufu cut me off "I do not want to hear an excuse Zax! Dignitary Wallaby is supposed to be DEAD! He is VERY MUCH ALIVE and you sit here and tell me with a straight face that he drank the poison? Do you take me for a fool? How much did the Nobunagans pay you to betray us? HOW MUCH?!"
Carefully I thought of my next words, I had done EXACTLY as the King commanded, I laced the humans "coffee" with the poison from the Nobunagans home world. The Nobunagans say it speeds up the consumers heart, starting a runaway rhythm until the consumer expires, but the human...just... drank it. He even got a second glass! All he did was complain of the drinks temperature!
"Sire, I did precisely what we planned, the human should be dead. The Earthlings and Nobunagans should be at war...I cannot explain how he...he just drank it. It defies logic"
The King sat quietly. Long he had angled for the top seat at the Galatic Citadel, the strongest warriors of the Unified forces all came from Gaozuhan, the position is rightly his. At last he spoke "these...creatures...these Earthlings think they can just appear with their technology and weaponry and usurp me well... ill show them, and you Zax... you can regain your honor"
"Anything my King" I immediately jump at the opportunity.
"Return to Nobunaga, they have another plant that we dare not speak of.. the incineratio, it can be turned to a liquid paste, use that to take care of our dear Mr Wallaby"
"It will be done sire, though the effects are most gruesome."
"Zax" the king said "If you fail me again, it will be you who drinks the poison am I clear?"
This scene is going through my mind on repeat as I sit across from Wallaby... watching him devour the poison...using it as a supplement to his buzzard wings.
"Zax buddy this sauce is unreal! The heat and flavor is so perfectly balanced man you have got to bring this stuff to Earth when you visit!"
The man does not see me bare my teeth...a nervous smile I think the humans call it
"I am a dead man" I mutter | “Woah that’s spicy!” I exclaimed before realising something was awry. Early on we had accidentally put some ambassadors in the hospital by serving them curry.
“I didn’t know your people had spicy food!” I exclaimed.
The aliens looked nervous, before one answered, nervously, “I’m glad you like it?”
I continued with “the only issue is that the caffeine, and I can tell the difference between regular and decaf, mind you, makes us humans have a bit of trouble going to sleep.
Later came desert, a chocolaty delight. They seemed surprisingly nervous the whole time. I have no idea why. I was clearly enjoying it. I guess it’s probably because I was able to get really good terms from them, to be honest, I was pleasantly surprised at their willingness to negotiate such generous terms.
**the story continues**
It was only after I got back to my ship that I realised: it was the Wowfolk\* that we had nearly killed with a curry. Spicy food was poisonous to them. This had been an assasination attempt. It had been pretty much us and the Proximans who could drink tea, eat chocolate, and stand peppers, and that was because Proxima was quite odd. I was on Tau Sagittarii, they would hardly serve spicy food here.
\* named for the wow signal | |
[WP] The attempted assassination of a human dignitary at a galactic summit goes awry. Turns out, many of the conventional toxins in an alien assassin's repertoire include compounds like caffeine, theobromine and capsaicin; lethal to many species, but... less than effective on humans. | At first, it was entertaining. A meeting of diplomats, gathering and sharing gifts. A few too obvious looks and startled expressions.
It was innocent enough to begin with. A drink, supposedly a local delicacy. Yet it felt so much like an espresso that I could have sworn that Andromorph was from New Jersey. He even had the accent. Or maybe that was just the universal translator.
The looks he gave me after I finished it without blinking was, to say the least, unnerving. As if he didn't expect me to enjoy it as much.
Next was the Flagellians. They offered me a golden brown liquid that looked, smelled and tasted like a good Malt Whisky. Those guys quickly became my fastest friends. Especially after I quickly organised a trade deal for a few million units of the stuff. They were awful concerned about openly discussing it, but I made sure they knew I understood. Earth had its own prohibitions, after all.
The Andorians and Belvitiands were less welcoming. They offered me a platter of meats that, while appearing entirely vile, actually turned out to be perfectly seasoned strips of what they called "Interfectorem Cibum". When I coughed and hacked at the first bite, yet still went in for seconds, exclaiming "That's sone killer seasoning!" I swear they nearly attacked me on the spot.
It was the Pandorians, though, that nearly killed me. They, at least, had the decency to be apologetic when my throat swelled and bulged, blocking my breathing. In my defence, they did share the dish with me, the bread the delicious, and I savoured every bite.
Until, that is, they mentioned that we had a similar dish on earth.
Never had I cursed the invention of pecan bread more than I had in that moment. | “Woah that’s spicy!” I exclaimed before realising something was awry. Early on we had accidentally put some ambassadors in the hospital by serving them curry.
“I didn’t know your people had spicy food!” I exclaimed.
The aliens looked nervous, before one answered, nervously, “I’m glad you like it?”
I continued with “the only issue is that the caffeine, and I can tell the difference between regular and decaf, mind you, makes us humans have a bit of trouble going to sleep.
Later came desert, a chocolaty delight. They seemed surprisingly nervous the whole time. I have no idea why. I was clearly enjoying it. I guess it’s probably because I was able to get really good terms from them, to be honest, I was pleasantly surprised at their willingness to negotiate such generous terms.
**the story continues**
It was only after I got back to my ship that I realised: it was the Wowfolk\* that we had nearly killed with a curry. Spicy food was poisonous to them. This had been an assasination attempt. It had been pretty much us and the Proximans who could drink tea, eat chocolate, and stand peppers, and that was because Proxima was quite odd. I was on Tau Sagittarii, they would hardly serve spicy food here.
\* named for the wow signal | |
[WP] The attempted assassination of a human dignitary at a galactic summit goes awry. Turns out, many of the conventional toxins in an alien assassin's repertoire include compounds like caffeine, theobromine and capsaicin; lethal to many species, but... less than effective on humans. | WHAT DO YOU MEAN HE LIKED IT!?! The words echoed throughout the Gaozuhan throne room, rattling me to my core.
"My liege, I -"
King Sufu cut me off "I do not want to hear an excuse Zax! Dignitary Wallaby is supposed to be DEAD! He is VERY MUCH ALIVE and you sit here and tell me with a straight face that he drank the poison? Do you take me for a fool? How much did the Nobunagans pay you to betray us? HOW MUCH?!"
Carefully I thought of my next words, I had done EXACTLY as the King commanded, I laced the humans "coffee" with the poison from the Nobunagans home world. The Nobunagans say it speeds up the consumers heart, starting a runaway rhythm until the consumer expires, but the human...just... drank it. He even got a second glass! All he did was complain of the drinks temperature!
"Sire, I did precisely what we planned, the human should be dead. The Earthlings and Nobunagans should be at war...I cannot explain how he...he just drank it. It defies logic"
The King sat quietly. Long he had angled for the top seat at the Galatic Citadel, the strongest warriors of the Unified forces all came from Gaozuhan, the position is rightly his. At last he spoke "these...creatures...these Earthlings think they can just appear with their technology and weaponry and usurp me well... ill show them, and you Zax... you can regain your honor"
"Anything my King" I immediately jump at the opportunity.
"Return to Nobunaga, they have another plant that we dare not speak of.. the incineratio, it can be turned to a liquid paste, use that to take care of our dear Mr Wallaby"
"It will be done sire, though the effects are most gruesome."
"Zax" the king said "If you fail me again, it will be you who drinks the poison am I clear?"
This scene is going through my mind on repeat as I sit across from Wallaby... watching him devour the poison...using it as a supplement to his buzzard wings.
"Zax buddy this sauce is unreal! The heat and flavor is so perfectly balanced man you have got to bring this stuff to Earth when you visit!"
The man does not see me bare my teeth...a nervous smile I think the humans call it
"I am a dead man" I mutter | "What did you hope to accomplish?" The woman asked, pushing the drink away now that she knew the intent behind it.
The common space outside the council chambers had little activity. And this Trennovian had followed her here, making small talk and offering to buy her a drink as they discussed the law that would come to pass.
A law that the Trennovians did not like.
"Seriously. What does killing me *now* accomplish? The law's been passed." She shook her head, her hand reaching into her bag for the handheld impact cannon and feeling the comforting cold metal of it.
The alien's look of shock slowly vanished and a blank expression replaced it.
"No future transgressions. You'll be an example."
"I'll be a martyr. There are a million different ways you can have gone about this. Killing me to set an example is the worst way you could have thought of."
"Your kind has them all in your pockets. Your archaic manipulation of atoms and it's destructive effects are too valuable an asset. They want to learn more. You wish to teach them your ways. Calling it means of deterrence. We all know."
"These are the kinds of things you voice out in there, Xur Plin. You're not the only people who are pushing back."
"Our voices do not carry as far as yours, newcomer. What you call a means of deterrence? This is ours."
"This is your deterrence? Actually killing a politician? Do you have any idea what this will mean? What you have done? This summit... It's a wonder how it exists the way it does. But to violate it's standing, it's integrity, with the act of killing?"
"Maybe they'll listen to us now." The Trennovian reached out towards her with startling speed, it's appendage producing a sharp needle-like contraption.
The woman took out the cannon and fired desperately. The force of it pushed them both away from each other. They both fell, crashing to the smooth, polished floor as the sound of the discharge filled the area.
She slowly got to her feet, her arms numb from the recoil. The Trennovian lay, trying to gather itself and rise back up. But it was too winded, too shaken. The woman collapsed back to her seat, eying the poison. The taste had resembled gingered coffee, to an extent. It reminded her of the spiced coffee her mother used to make. She heard the urgent footsteps and stern voices making their way toward the source of the discharge, and reached for the drink.
Might as well. It was going to be a long day. | |
[WP] The attempted assassination of a human dignitary at a galactic summit goes awry. Turns out, many of the conventional toxins in an alien assassin's repertoire include compounds like caffeine, theobromine and capsaicin; lethal to many species, but... less than effective on humans. | At first, it was entertaining. A meeting of diplomats, gathering and sharing gifts. A few too obvious looks and startled expressions.
It was innocent enough to begin with. A drink, supposedly a local delicacy. Yet it felt so much like an espresso that I could have sworn that Andromorph was from New Jersey. He even had the accent. Or maybe that was just the universal translator.
The looks he gave me after I finished it without blinking was, to say the least, unnerving. As if he didn't expect me to enjoy it as much.
Next was the Flagellians. They offered me a golden brown liquid that looked, smelled and tasted like a good Malt Whisky. Those guys quickly became my fastest friends. Especially after I quickly organised a trade deal for a few million units of the stuff. They were awful concerned about openly discussing it, but I made sure they knew I understood. Earth had its own prohibitions, after all.
The Andorians and Belvitiands were less welcoming. They offered me a platter of meats that, while appearing entirely vile, actually turned out to be perfectly seasoned strips of what they called "Interfectorem Cibum". When I coughed and hacked at the first bite, yet still went in for seconds, exclaiming "That's sone killer seasoning!" I swear they nearly attacked me on the spot.
It was the Pandorians, though, that nearly killed me. They, at least, had the decency to be apologetic when my throat swelled and bulged, blocking my breathing. In my defence, they did share the dish with me, the bread the delicious, and I savoured every bite.
Until, that is, they mentioned that we had a similar dish on earth.
Never had I cursed the invention of pecan bread more than I had in that moment. | "What did you hope to accomplish?" The woman asked, pushing the drink away now that she knew the intent behind it.
The common space outside the council chambers had little activity. And this Trennovian had followed her here, making small talk and offering to buy her a drink as they discussed the law that would come to pass.
A law that the Trennovians did not like.
"Seriously. What does killing me *now* accomplish? The law's been passed." She shook her head, her hand reaching into her bag for the handheld impact cannon and feeling the comforting cold metal of it.
The alien's look of shock slowly vanished and a blank expression replaced it.
"No future transgressions. You'll be an example."
"I'll be a martyr. There are a million different ways you can have gone about this. Killing me to set an example is the worst way you could have thought of."
"Your kind has them all in your pockets. Your archaic manipulation of atoms and it's destructive effects are too valuable an asset. They want to learn more. You wish to teach them your ways. Calling it means of deterrence. We all know."
"These are the kinds of things you voice out in there, Xur Plin. You're not the only people who are pushing back."
"Our voices do not carry as far as yours, newcomer. What you call a means of deterrence? This is ours."
"This is your deterrence? Actually killing a politician? Do you have any idea what this will mean? What you have done? This summit... It's a wonder how it exists the way it does. But to violate it's standing, it's integrity, with the act of killing?"
"Maybe they'll listen to us now." The Trennovian reached out towards her with startling speed, it's appendage producing a sharp needle-like contraption.
The woman took out the cannon and fired desperately. The force of it pushed them both away from each other. They both fell, crashing to the smooth, polished floor as the sound of the discharge filled the area.
She slowly got to her feet, her arms numb from the recoil. The Trennovian lay, trying to gather itself and rise back up. But it was too winded, too shaken. The woman collapsed back to her seat, eying the poison. The taste had resembled gingered coffee, to an extent. It reminded her of the spiced coffee her mother used to make. She heard the urgent footsteps and stern voices making their way toward the source of the discharge, and reached for the drink.
Might as well. It was going to be a long day. | |
[WP] The attempted assassination of a human dignitary at a galactic summit goes awry. Turns out, many of the conventional toxins in an alien assassin's repertoire include compounds like caffeine, theobromine and capsaicin; lethal to many species, but... less than effective on humans. | Peter tried leaning back in the chair. Ugh. No such luck. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t get comfortable.
He looked around at the dozens of other representatives. Their tentacles and furry limbs rested comfortably in the seats.
He was out of place.
He played with the glass of water in front of him. Each representative was given a beverage along with the appropriate paper work. They had looked at him in shock when he asked for a glass of ‘Dihydrogen Monoxide’, but he shook it off. Different star systems, different dishes.
His brain filtered out the speaker in front of the the crowd, muffling the noise around him.
Raising the glass to his lips, he took a sip. He squinted, his face contorting. Ugh. What was that? Tasted… bitter. Something was off with the water. He set it down. Best not to get worked up about it.
The speaker turned to him. His translator ear-piece morphed the strange squeaks and growls into a human voice.
“Would the human representative please step onto the stage?”
Peter obliged, calmly walking from his seat to the podium. He began to speak about the planetary developments, the amounts of resources gathered, and anything else of note.
“Speaking of our interplanetary exploration budget, we-“
*THWIP*
The sharp sound of an object cutting through the air resounded as a dart flew from the crowd and onto Peters neck.
“Gah!”
Peter fell back from the microphone and onto his knees. He grasped at the foreign object lodged in his neck, yanking it out. He could tell. The life was draining out of him. He could feel the alien toxin flowing through his veins. He-
He felt fine. Aside from the slight twinge of pain in his neck and specks of blood, he was fine.
He slowly stood, and the interplanetary officers swarmed the crowd and stage. Doctors surround him, placing him in a gurney, asking questions. The officers dragged a feathered creature in a trench coat out by two of of his many limbs. He scowled at Peter as he was dragged away.
Peter spent many hours in the infirmary as the police furiously scoured the auditorium.
Finally, a nurse walked in. She seemed somewhat humanoid, aside from the black eyes and gray skin. Oh, and the claws.
The translator activated again as she spoke.
“Well, I don’t know how, but… your body seems to have been immune to the poison. Both the dart and the glass were spiked with caffeine. Tell me, have you always had this immunity?”
Peter blinked.
“What? Uh, yeah. Humans drink caffeine all the time. That’s what makes up stuff like coffee and tea.”
The nurses eyes went wide.
“That… is news to us. This needs to gather more attention.”
As she hustled out of the room, an officer came in.
“You may be pleased that we’ve captured the would-be assailant. He’s part of the Gallus species, and is being placed into the custody of your protective services.”
I nodded.
“They’ll probably give him the death penalty over this.”
“Hm.” He said “I believe your planet is home to a Gallus sub species? Gallus gallus domesticus?”
I nodded again.
“Yup. And like I said, the death penalty. Those guys taste great with ketchup.” | "The agenda for today's meeting is relating to a significant amount of forces moved close to the border of.."
I knew what to do. This wasn't my first rodeo. Ever since I was old enough for the job, I've been carrying out hits on people.
This one was no different. Surprisingly easy too. The security was quite lax for such an important meeting, and I managed to sneak into the staffroom and grabbed myself a uniform. It doesn't fit me that well, but whatever. Nobody's going to notice.
The lunch break was ticking closer by the minute.
I stood in the corner of the room, observing the quite plain meeting hall. 9 chairs, each with an ambassador of every galactic species and a woman at the head of the table, droning on, and on.. and on..
When she announces : "Refreshments and food will be served shortly."
Obviously I'm already holding the platter, each filled with delicacies from every corner of the galaxy with a special little ingredient for our little homo sapien friend here.
Capsaicin is said to be deadly. It's known as the 'killer chemical' for a reason. Only a fool would dare willingly ingest such a potent poison. It stiffens the muscles and sends the target into anaphylactic shock, restricting respiration before slowly asphyxiating its unfortunate victim in a matter of minutes. It takes a drop of this stuff to kill.
I sneaked an entire vial of the stuff into the ambassador's food, as a special 'thank you'. Now here I am, serving his food to him. I hope he enjoys his unexpected last meal. A monotone "Thanks." from him, and I make my exit.
I leave the room, leaving the door open just a crack so I can peer in and watch him die.
The first, and last bite, before his face displays surprise, fanning his mouth like crazy and panting like a mutt.
"Water! Milk!" he shouts.
"Too hot! Goodness!"
The rest of the members look at him in confusion, and they all mumble. The woman leading the meeting goes over to check what's going on. I smirk, knowing these would be these last words.
He downs his entire glass of water, swishing it around in his mouth and swallowing, coughing.
"Why, how unexpected." he says, before.. taking.. another.. bite?
Huh? This fool just came face to face with one of the most potent toxins, and shrugged it off like nothing? Is this man invincible? Don't tell me, something as harmless as cyanide will kill him, instead of *that*?
What now? How do I dispose of him? Gosh, my client will *kill* me! | |
[WP] The attempted assassination of a human dignitary at a galactic summit goes awry. Turns out, many of the conventional toxins in an alien assassin's repertoire include compounds like caffeine, theobromine and capsaicin; lethal to many species, but... less than effective on humans. | At first, it was entertaining. A meeting of diplomats, gathering and sharing gifts. A few too obvious looks and startled expressions.
It was innocent enough to begin with. A drink, supposedly a local delicacy. Yet it felt so much like an espresso that I could have sworn that Andromorph was from New Jersey. He even had the accent. Or maybe that was just the universal translator.
The looks he gave me after I finished it without blinking was, to say the least, unnerving. As if he didn't expect me to enjoy it as much.
Next was the Flagellians. They offered me a golden brown liquid that looked, smelled and tasted like a good Malt Whisky. Those guys quickly became my fastest friends. Especially after I quickly organised a trade deal for a few million units of the stuff. They were awful concerned about openly discussing it, but I made sure they knew I understood. Earth had its own prohibitions, after all.
The Andorians and Belvitiands were less welcoming. They offered me a platter of meats that, while appearing entirely vile, actually turned out to be perfectly seasoned strips of what they called "Interfectorem Cibum". When I coughed and hacked at the first bite, yet still went in for seconds, exclaiming "That's sone killer seasoning!" I swear they nearly attacked me on the spot.
It was the Pandorians, though, that nearly killed me. They, at least, had the decency to be apologetic when my throat swelled and bulged, blocking my breathing. In my defence, they did share the dish with me, the bread the delicious, and I savoured every bite.
Until, that is, they mentioned that we had a similar dish on earth.
Never had I cursed the invention of pecan bread more than I had in that moment. | "The agenda for today's meeting is relating to a significant amount of forces moved close to the border of.."
I knew what to do. This wasn't my first rodeo. Ever since I was old enough for the job, I've been carrying out hits on people.
This one was no different. Surprisingly easy too. The security was quite lax for such an important meeting, and I managed to sneak into the staffroom and grabbed myself a uniform. It doesn't fit me that well, but whatever. Nobody's going to notice.
The lunch break was ticking closer by the minute.
I stood in the corner of the room, observing the quite plain meeting hall. 9 chairs, each with an ambassador of every galactic species and a woman at the head of the table, droning on, and on.. and on..
When she announces : "Refreshments and food will be served shortly."
Obviously I'm already holding the platter, each filled with delicacies from every corner of the galaxy with a special little ingredient for our little homo sapien friend here.
Capsaicin is said to be deadly. It's known as the 'killer chemical' for a reason. Only a fool would dare willingly ingest such a potent poison. It stiffens the muscles and sends the target into anaphylactic shock, restricting respiration before slowly asphyxiating its unfortunate victim in a matter of minutes. It takes a drop of this stuff to kill.
I sneaked an entire vial of the stuff into the ambassador's food, as a special 'thank you'. Now here I am, serving his food to him. I hope he enjoys his unexpected last meal. A monotone "Thanks." from him, and I make my exit.
I leave the room, leaving the door open just a crack so I can peer in and watch him die.
The first, and last bite, before his face displays surprise, fanning his mouth like crazy and panting like a mutt.
"Water! Milk!" he shouts.
"Too hot! Goodness!"
The rest of the members look at him in confusion, and they all mumble. The woman leading the meeting goes over to check what's going on. I smirk, knowing these would be these last words.
He downs his entire glass of water, swishing it around in his mouth and swallowing, coughing.
"Why, how unexpected." he says, before.. taking.. another.. bite?
Huh? This fool just came face to face with one of the most potent toxins, and shrugged it off like nothing? Is this man invincible? Don't tell me, something as harmless as cyanide will kill him, instead of *that*?
What now? How do I dispose of him? Gosh, my client will *kill* me! | |
[WP] The attempted assassination of a human dignitary at a galactic summit goes awry. Turns out, many of the conventional toxins in an alien assassin's repertoire include compounds like caffeine, theobromine and capsaicin; lethal to many species, but... less than effective on humans. | The sharp intake of breath, the wide eyes, the elevated temperature in the throat and neck, spreading down into the stomach. All these are expected symptoms of the deadly poison extracted from the excretions of the sac fungi found on the plains of Straka III.
The shaking expected afterwards is supposed to be a series of uncontrollable spasms as a being’s organs shut down one by one. No living being in all of Union space had ever survived more than a single hour. Many died in seconds as their insides dissolved.
But the shaking was different this time. It was a quick right, left, right, left of the accursed human’s head, followed by an amazed “Wow!”
The human looked at the glass he was holding. In it was enough of the liquid to kill a Carmellian Bisax. It seemed to be calculating. It knew what I had tried to do.
It looked me dead in the eye, it’s predatory eyes locked unblinking on mine, and it showed its fangs and teeth in an aggressive display of dominance.
And then it _drank the rest of the poison_.
Then it laughed.
“That is some seriously good booze you have there, Squishy.”
My name is Squis’shi. The callous disregard for my honour and name is one of the reasons I agreed to this assassination mission.
It looked at the empty glass, and ran its tongue tentacle over the terrifying teeth.
“You got any more of this? I know people that would pay good money for this stuff.”
——
_much later_
——
Human Damien was staggering a bit, and slurring his words, “I thought you were a bit of an idiot, Squis’shi. You’re alright, you are.”
He hadn’t drunk this much since he left Mars University over ten years ago. He was probably going to have a hangover, but this stuff was pure liquid gold.
——
I have regained my honour. The human at last uses my given name, full of deference and respect. He obviously recognises my assassination attempt and thinks it worthy of a competitor.
He has signed a trade deal which will keep my family and crèche in good standing for many revolutions. Not only can I show my face there again, but I can hold my head high, even next to nestling Shrim’pii.
He was jubilant as well, and kept saying that he couldn’t wait till his trading partner Jack Daniels tried this one.
I am a little concerned that he has consumed enough of the poison to take out an entire city. I will have to be watchful around him now. He will no doubt feel the need to honour me with an assassination attempt.
I think this trade deal means I can call off our current invasion plans.
Truly, the humans only send their best. | "The agenda for today's meeting is relating to a significant amount of forces moved close to the border of.."
I knew what to do. This wasn't my first rodeo. Ever since I was old enough for the job, I've been carrying out hits on people.
This one was no different. Surprisingly easy too. The security was quite lax for such an important meeting, and I managed to sneak into the staffroom and grabbed myself a uniform. It doesn't fit me that well, but whatever. Nobody's going to notice.
The lunch break was ticking closer by the minute.
I stood in the corner of the room, observing the quite plain meeting hall. 9 chairs, each with an ambassador of every galactic species and a woman at the head of the table, droning on, and on.. and on..
When she announces : "Refreshments and food will be served shortly."
Obviously I'm already holding the platter, each filled with delicacies from every corner of the galaxy with a special little ingredient for our little homo sapien friend here.
Capsaicin is said to be deadly. It's known as the 'killer chemical' for a reason. Only a fool would dare willingly ingest such a potent poison. It stiffens the muscles and sends the target into anaphylactic shock, restricting respiration before slowly asphyxiating its unfortunate victim in a matter of minutes. It takes a drop of this stuff to kill.
I sneaked an entire vial of the stuff into the ambassador's food, as a special 'thank you'. Now here I am, serving his food to him. I hope he enjoys his unexpected last meal. A monotone "Thanks." from him, and I make my exit.
I leave the room, leaving the door open just a crack so I can peer in and watch him die.
The first, and last bite, before his face displays surprise, fanning his mouth like crazy and panting like a mutt.
"Water! Milk!" he shouts.
"Too hot! Goodness!"
The rest of the members look at him in confusion, and they all mumble. The woman leading the meeting goes over to check what's going on. I smirk, knowing these would be these last words.
He downs his entire glass of water, swishing it around in his mouth and swallowing, coughing.
"Why, how unexpected." he says, before.. taking.. another.. bite?
Huh? This fool just came face to face with one of the most potent toxins, and shrugged it off like nothing? Is this man invincible? Don't tell me, something as harmless as cyanide will kill him, instead of *that*?
What now? How do I dispose of him? Gosh, my client will *kill* me! | |
[WP] The attempted assassination of a human dignitary at a galactic summit goes awry. Turns out, many of the conventional toxins in an alien assassin's repertoire include compounds like caffeine, theobromine and capsaicin; lethal to many species, but... less than effective on humans. | At first, it was entertaining. A meeting of diplomats, gathering and sharing gifts. A few too obvious looks and startled expressions.
It was innocent enough to begin with. A drink, supposedly a local delicacy. Yet it felt so much like an espresso that I could have sworn that Andromorph was from New Jersey. He even had the accent. Or maybe that was just the universal translator.
The looks he gave me after I finished it without blinking was, to say the least, unnerving. As if he didn't expect me to enjoy it as much.
Next was the Flagellians. They offered me a golden brown liquid that looked, smelled and tasted like a good Malt Whisky. Those guys quickly became my fastest friends. Especially after I quickly organised a trade deal for a few million units of the stuff. They were awful concerned about openly discussing it, but I made sure they knew I understood. Earth had its own prohibitions, after all.
The Andorians and Belvitiands were less welcoming. They offered me a platter of meats that, while appearing entirely vile, actually turned out to be perfectly seasoned strips of what they called "Interfectorem Cibum". When I coughed and hacked at the first bite, yet still went in for seconds, exclaiming "That's sone killer seasoning!" I swear they nearly attacked me on the spot.
It was the Pandorians, though, that nearly killed me. They, at least, had the decency to be apologetic when my throat swelled and bulged, blocking my breathing. In my defence, they did share the dish with me, the bread the delicious, and I savoured every bite.
Until, that is, they mentioned that we had a similar dish on earth.
Never had I cursed the invention of pecan bread more than I had in that moment. | Peter tried leaning back in the chair. Ugh. No such luck. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t get comfortable.
He looked around at the dozens of other representatives. Their tentacles and furry limbs rested comfortably in the seats.
He was out of place.
He played with the glass of water in front of him. Each representative was given a beverage along with the appropriate paper work. They had looked at him in shock when he asked for a glass of ‘Dihydrogen Monoxide’, but he shook it off. Different star systems, different dishes.
His brain filtered out the speaker in front of the the crowd, muffling the noise around him.
Raising the glass to his lips, he took a sip. He squinted, his face contorting. Ugh. What was that? Tasted… bitter. Something was off with the water. He set it down. Best not to get worked up about it.
The speaker turned to him. His translator ear-piece morphed the strange squeaks and growls into a human voice.
“Would the human representative please step onto the stage?”
Peter obliged, calmly walking from his seat to the podium. He began to speak about the planetary developments, the amounts of resources gathered, and anything else of note.
“Speaking of our interplanetary exploration budget, we-“
*THWIP*
The sharp sound of an object cutting through the air resounded as a dart flew from the crowd and onto Peters neck.
“Gah!”
Peter fell back from the microphone and onto his knees. He grasped at the foreign object lodged in his neck, yanking it out. He could tell. The life was draining out of him. He could feel the alien toxin flowing through his veins. He-
He felt fine. Aside from the slight twinge of pain in his neck and specks of blood, he was fine.
He slowly stood, and the interplanetary officers swarmed the crowd and stage. Doctors surround him, placing him in a gurney, asking questions. The officers dragged a feathered creature in a trench coat out by two of of his many limbs. He scowled at Peter as he was dragged away.
Peter spent many hours in the infirmary as the police furiously scoured the auditorium.
Finally, a nurse walked in. She seemed somewhat humanoid, aside from the black eyes and gray skin. Oh, and the claws.
The translator activated again as she spoke.
“Well, I don’t know how, but… your body seems to have been immune to the poison. Both the dart and the glass were spiked with caffeine. Tell me, have you always had this immunity?”
Peter blinked.
“What? Uh, yeah. Humans drink caffeine all the time. That’s what makes up stuff like coffee and tea.”
The nurses eyes went wide.
“That… is news to us. This needs to gather more attention.”
As she hustled out of the room, an officer came in.
“You may be pleased that we’ve captured the would-be assailant. He’s part of the Gallus species, and is being placed into the custody of your protective services.”
I nodded.
“They’ll probably give him the death penalty over this.”
“Hm.” He said “I believe your planet is home to a Gallus sub species? Gallus gallus domesticus?”
I nodded again.
“Yup. And like I said, the death penalty. Those guys taste great with ketchup.” | |
[WP] The attempted assassination of a human dignitary at a galactic summit goes awry. Turns out, many of the conventional toxins in an alien assassin's repertoire include compounds like caffeine, theobromine and capsaicin; lethal to many species, but... less than effective on humans. | A deafening silence enveloped the conference room as soon as I stepped through the door. My two assistants froze behind me in terror, but I carried on like nothing was wrong, forcing them to follow my lead. Even the species that were telepathic fell quiet as I walked past them, immediately noticeable by their stiffening antennae and wide-eyed stares. It seemed my would-be assassins had already gossiped about their victory.
Most of these diplomats had written off humanity as an upstart race. We accomplished warp travel only fifty years prior, a blink of an eye for some of these cultures, and quickly developed close diplomatic relationships with some of the bigger players in the galactic stage, to the point where humans were mostly free to roam any corner of the Milky Way without risking a war. The fact that we stuck to our corner of the galaxy, despite being capable of expanding, had left some of these people skeptical of our motives.
I didn't blame them, really. History had shown that space-faring cultures rarely played nice with each other. It would be incredibly easy for humans to dismantle entire empires with sleeper agents due to how widespread we were becoming. Our scientists, artists, and bounty hunters gained notoriety through honest use of their skills, which meant several star systems already relied on us to function smoothly. Unfortunately, some people just couldn't believe a species was *that* content with mere exploration, not without being secretly evil. These aliens were too used to their own technological advancements to see it from our perspective. Now that human aging had been mitigated and food was no longer scarce, most of us just wanted to do our own thing and hopefully learn something valuable along the way.
There was plenty of room for everyone in the galaxy. That was our biggest epiphany when we first left the solar system. Furthermore, a whole universe waited for us beyond the galactic rim. Squabbling over territory just felt silly after getting this far. I knew most people wouldn't buy that, though. Some of our allies were even starting to doubt our intentions. My job at this summit was to make sure our current treaties held true. Anything else would be a bonus.
Everyone expected me to sit next to the Tros-Teeng, one of humanity's first friends. That may have been adequate in a normal scenario but not after an assassination attempt. Looking for sympathy from our allies would make us seem weak, almost like we needed an older species to protect us. That wasn't the message I wanted to send. In order to maintain our standing, proactive measures had to be taken, which is why I chose to sit between the Bhul'ees and the Kouwerds, the two groups that had just tried to kill me.
"Ambassador Clark!" gurgled the Bhul'ee representative, twitching her tentacles. "How... are you feeling?"
"Great!" I smiled, making myself comfortable. "Something wrong? You look nervous."
"Do I?" The Bhul'ee shifted in her seat. The retinue around her hadn't moved an inch since I sat down. "Maybe it looks that way to a human, but I couldn't be more calm."
"Of course, sorry for assuming. I could've sworn you looked a lot more relaxed during our meal, but I guess that's just my silly monkey brain acting up. We have a lot to learn from each other, don't we?"
"Yes..." muttered the Bhul'ee. "Your biology astounds me."
"I'm sure it does. If you're ever up for another dinner, just let me know. Your delicacies were scrumptious! Especially that drink you gave me!"
"I... can't take credit for all of it." The Bhul'ee glanced at the Kouwerd ambassador. "Our friend here promised to bring the best ingredients he could find."
The Kouwerd rippled his gelatinous body with an uncomfortable noise, making himself as small as possible. "I... I tried my best!"
"Nobody said otherwise," I replied. "Say, where *did* you find those beans? I haven't found good ones in years."
"Erm..." The Kouwerd struggled to answer me. "Well..."
"Years?" said the Bhul'ee, hoping to change the subject. "You mean you've tried it before?"
"Of course! We call it coffee where I'm from. Humans often fraternize over a cup of it, especially after a meal. Don't your people do it too?"
The two ambassadors stayed quiet, sharing a quick glance.
"Wait, a minute..." I scratched my chin. "You mean to tell me... that isn't the case?"
"N-no!" said the Kouwerd, sweating droplets of purple ooze. "We definitely use it a lot..."
"But it's really expensive" added the Bhul'ee, glaring at her ally. "I've found it's not worth the cost."
"As a coffee junkie, I have to disagree. We have it available on our replicators but nothing beats the taste of freshly ground, organically grown beans."
"Right..." said the Kouwerd. "Our people have selectively bred the plant for centuries. We've found many applications for it..."
"Fascinating. I'd love to see your farms! Perhaps we could share notes. Heck, there's a lot of demand for it in our worlds, if you're interested in discussing a trade deal."
The Bhul'ee frowned.
"T-that won't be possible" said the Kouwerd, intimidated. He actually looked tempted for a second. "We're very secretive when it comes to our growing operations. Sorry."
"What a shame."
"Yes," said the Bhul'ee. "A shame. I'm surprised you love it that much. Some... can't handle it."
"I can see how that might be the case. Some humans aren't very good at tolerating it, but most find the buzz is usually worth it. Then again, that's our lot in life. We embrace discomfort to get what we want. Some species value the opposite, so I suppose it would be easy to never try anything difficult, when they don't have to. Now that I think about it, the same applies to our friendships." I started laughing. "We often tolerate the most crap from those we love." I gave them both a dead-eyed stare. "Otherwise, why put up with it?"
The Kouwerd ambassador shrieked and rolled away in a ball, grabbing the attention of everyone else in the conference room.
The Bhul'ee tensed up, unable to speak. She seemed like she wanted to do the same as her ally, but couldn't afford to look weak in front of this many people.
I didn't have to say anything else. My threat had been clear. The rest of the summit went smoothly from then on. Our allies saw that humanity wouldn't back down from a challenge, but that we also wouldn't be savages about it. That earned us a lot more respect going forward. As I was leaving the conference room, one of my assistants went on to ask me why I dealt with them so kindly. If we had reported them instead, they would've been in clear violation of several treaties, something that would've crippled them with sanctions and tariffs. I shrugged off their concern, saying:
"Sure, we could've messed with them even more, but something tells me they wouldn't have learned their lesson otherwise. Remember, cooperation and endurance got humanity this far. Show them that the rising tide lifts all boats, and they'll discover it can drown them if they don't get onboard. Besides..." I chuckled. "I'm pretty grateful. Do you know how hard it is to find good coffee around here?"
---------
>If you enjoyed this, check out my other stories over at /r/WeirdEmoKidStories! Thanks for reading! | "It runs deeper," said the Lord.
The Lords were the first alien species humanity had encountered in the early stage of space travel. Their language and society had no words for individuality or community. Instead, they were all considered as grand beings yet without traits to differenciate them. As humans and Lords learned the specifics of xeno linguistics, they agreed it would make for a nice name and a correct definition. As far as humans were concerned, the term the Lords used defined both a hive and an incessant, disharmonious buzzing, which seemed also fitting.
Contact and diplomacy had been, against the fears of cynics, stellar. Limbs were shaken, trade was opened, no threat loomed on the horizon. In fact, there hadn't been any at all. Naturally, culture made some exchange more arduous than others. Lords in particular were staunchly against anatomical knowledge, viewing dissections of a human body and teachings of inner organs to students as painful to watch.
Despite a few hiccups, this had been a beautiful first contact, setting a hope that subsequent discoveries would run just as smoothly.
At least in theory, thought the human diplomat. Friendship could do without poisoning attempts. He survived only thanks to the wrong assumption that both species shared a few similar biological traits. He had drunk the poison alright, but save from a trip to the toilets with a severe diarrhoe, the human was alright.
A guard had seen the Lord slip the substance in his drink.
The diplomat had asked what it was about, showing him the nearly empty vial.
The Lord had panicked. So did the diplomat, who flinged the vial in the air and had it land on the Lord.
Now the three of them, the Lord, the diplomat and the guard, were inside the chamber of the space station in the orbit of Titan, it's domed glass ceiling showing the great yellow moon as it drifted slowly around Saturn.
And the Lord was delirious in his coccon, speaking words the diplomat did not wish to hear, yet could not stop himself from listening.
"It runs deep. We tried to rid the fold or the bipedal humans. We have seen you form at the bottom of the liquid, your biology is unlike any other, an affront. The earth is an anomaly, so are you. To you, it is the only paradise among dead planets. To us, the galaxy is beauty, save for a growing tumor.
"And you are a tumor, each individual. Individual, curse the moonphase I learned this word, it spreads in our minds like poison. I am Lord, so are the others, we sing as one. But now, I hear discord. We had no need for warfare as we sung together, only you did. And you created monsters of steel and atoms to bleed planets dry. We sensed the threat you posed since your ancestor swam as cells.
"We bombarded you with ions. Liquid became water. You came to like water. Later, you climbed out of it. We scrambled to destroy your atmosphere, and we did. You breathed it in and decided oxygen was your lifesubstance. We sent sheets of ice and pillars of flames, you call them seasons.
"The stain we Lords wanted to wash grew with every attempt, becoming more absurd and gross under our own miscalculations. Your civilization is a discordand cacophony of killers and madmen, we could not stop you anymore. Not with your intimate and inborn will to kill and destroy, survive and adapt.
"Trade and handshakes will not do. We tried, believe us. You are still breaking all the laws of the universe with your presence, infecting it, spreading the abomination with terraformation and breach of nature. We had to poison you, couldn't do otherwise. You scare us into madness and kill us sooner or later, as you will all the others.
"I cannot bear it anymore."
The Lord gave out a bodywide pulse and floated lifeless to the ground, limbs vanishing into mist.
The diplomat sat in his chair and the guard leaned against the wall. Both contemplated the day in silence for a long time.
He had always thought that the chances for the galaxy to harbor another habitable planet was dim. There were in fact lots of these, except not for humans, while Earth was a terrifying anomaly going against the known rules of space for every other species.
Lovecraft had been terrified of space. Turns out, space was a lot more terrified of humans. Ctuhlu fled at the sight of humanity. If only the author had known.
Humans feared what could break the laws of physics.
Humans *were* breaking the laws of physics, rewriting a galaxy into something that wouldn't leave a place for poorly adapted species.
"So," said the diplomat, "by trying to kill us they gave us the means to evolve and become what we are. If they hadn't, we may still be a primitive amoeba drifting deep."
"Yes," answered the guard.
"Under another interpretation, they are the gods that created us, gave us tools, and God is horrified and helpless against us."
"Yes, and God appears to have been bound by rules we have been breaking for a long time."
"My friend. What are we?"
"I wish I knew."
Who the were the Lords? Enemies? Could you consider enemy a being who knew your mere presence was a risk to its existence?
What were humans exactly, in regards to the universe?
"You think we'll ever find the answer?" asked the guard.
"I'm not sure I want to hear it," answered the diplomat. | |
[WP] The attempted assassination of a human dignitary at a galactic summit goes awry. Turns out, many of the conventional toxins in an alien assassin's repertoire include compounds like caffeine, theobromine and capsaicin; lethal to many species, but... less than effective on humans. | The sharp intake of breath, the wide eyes, the elevated temperature in the throat and neck, spreading down into the stomach. All these are expected symptoms of the deadly poison extracted from the excretions of the sac fungi found on the plains of Straka III.
The shaking expected afterwards is supposed to be a series of uncontrollable spasms as a being’s organs shut down one by one. No living being in all of Union space had ever survived more than a single hour. Many died in seconds as their insides dissolved.
But the shaking was different this time. It was a quick right, left, right, left of the accursed human’s head, followed by an amazed “Wow!”
The human looked at the glass he was holding. In it was enough of the liquid to kill a Carmellian Bisax. It seemed to be calculating. It knew what I had tried to do.
It looked me dead in the eye, it’s predatory eyes locked unblinking on mine, and it showed its fangs and teeth in an aggressive display of dominance.
And then it _drank the rest of the poison_.
Then it laughed.
“That is some seriously good booze you have there, Squishy.”
My name is Squis’shi. The callous disregard for my honour and name is one of the reasons I agreed to this assassination mission.
It looked at the empty glass, and ran its tongue tentacle over the terrifying teeth.
“You got any more of this? I know people that would pay good money for this stuff.”
——
_much later_
——
Human Damien was staggering a bit, and slurring his words, “I thought you were a bit of an idiot, Squis’shi. You’re alright, you are.”
He hadn’t drunk this much since he left Mars University over ten years ago. He was probably going to have a hangover, but this stuff was pure liquid gold.
——
I have regained my honour. The human at last uses my given name, full of deference and respect. He obviously recognises my assassination attempt and thinks it worthy of a competitor.
He has signed a trade deal which will keep my family and crèche in good standing for many revolutions. Not only can I show my face there again, but I can hold my head high, even next to nestling Shrim’pii.
He was jubilant as well, and kept saying that he couldn’t wait till his trading partner Jack Daniels tried this one.
I am a little concerned that he has consumed enough of the poison to take out an entire city. I will have to be watchful around him now. He will no doubt feel the need to honour me with an assassination attempt.
I think this trade deal means I can call off our current invasion plans.
Truly, the humans only send their best. | "It runs deeper," said the Lord.
The Lords were the first alien species humanity had encountered in the early stage of space travel. Their language and society had no words for individuality or community. Instead, they were all considered as grand beings yet without traits to differenciate them. As humans and Lords learned the specifics of xeno linguistics, they agreed it would make for a nice name and a correct definition. As far as humans were concerned, the term the Lords used defined both a hive and an incessant, disharmonious buzzing, which seemed also fitting.
Contact and diplomacy had been, against the fears of cynics, stellar. Limbs were shaken, trade was opened, no threat loomed on the horizon. In fact, there hadn't been any at all. Naturally, culture made some exchange more arduous than others. Lords in particular were staunchly against anatomical knowledge, viewing dissections of a human body and teachings of inner organs to students as painful to watch.
Despite a few hiccups, this had been a beautiful first contact, setting a hope that subsequent discoveries would run just as smoothly.
At least in theory, thought the human diplomat. Friendship could do without poisoning attempts. He survived only thanks to the wrong assumption that both species shared a few similar biological traits. He had drunk the poison alright, but save from a trip to the toilets with a severe diarrhoe, the human was alright.
A guard had seen the Lord slip the substance in his drink.
The diplomat had asked what it was about, showing him the nearly empty vial.
The Lord had panicked. So did the diplomat, who flinged the vial in the air and had it land on the Lord.
Now the three of them, the Lord, the diplomat and the guard, were inside the chamber of the space station in the orbit of Titan, it's domed glass ceiling showing the great yellow moon as it drifted slowly around Saturn.
And the Lord was delirious in his coccon, speaking words the diplomat did not wish to hear, yet could not stop himself from listening.
"It runs deep. We tried to rid the fold or the bipedal humans. We have seen you form at the bottom of the liquid, your biology is unlike any other, an affront. The earth is an anomaly, so are you. To you, it is the only paradise among dead planets. To us, the galaxy is beauty, save for a growing tumor.
"And you are a tumor, each individual. Individual, curse the moonphase I learned this word, it spreads in our minds like poison. I am Lord, so are the others, we sing as one. But now, I hear discord. We had no need for warfare as we sung together, only you did. And you created monsters of steel and atoms to bleed planets dry. We sensed the threat you posed since your ancestor swam as cells.
"We bombarded you with ions. Liquid became water. You came to like water. Later, you climbed out of it. We scrambled to destroy your atmosphere, and we did. You breathed it in and decided oxygen was your lifesubstance. We sent sheets of ice and pillars of flames, you call them seasons.
"The stain we Lords wanted to wash grew with every attempt, becoming more absurd and gross under our own miscalculations. Your civilization is a discordand cacophony of killers and madmen, we could not stop you anymore. Not with your intimate and inborn will to kill and destroy, survive and adapt.
"Trade and handshakes will not do. We tried, believe us. You are still breaking all the laws of the universe with your presence, infecting it, spreading the abomination with terraformation and breach of nature. We had to poison you, couldn't do otherwise. You scare us into madness and kill us sooner or later, as you will all the others.
"I cannot bear it anymore."
The Lord gave out a bodywide pulse and floated lifeless to the ground, limbs vanishing into mist.
The diplomat sat in his chair and the guard leaned against the wall. Both contemplated the day in silence for a long time.
He had always thought that the chances for the galaxy to harbor another habitable planet was dim. There were in fact lots of these, except not for humans, while Earth was a terrifying anomaly going against the known rules of space for every other species.
Lovecraft had been terrified of space. Turns out, space was a lot more terrified of humans. Ctuhlu fled at the sight of humanity. If only the author had known.
Humans feared what could break the laws of physics.
Humans *were* breaking the laws of physics, rewriting a galaxy into something that wouldn't leave a place for poorly adapted species.
"So," said the diplomat, "by trying to kill us they gave us the means to evolve and become what we are. If they hadn't, we may still be a primitive amoeba drifting deep."
"Yes," answered the guard.
"Under another interpretation, they are the gods that created us, gave us tools, and God is horrified and helpless against us."
"Yes, and God appears to have been bound by rules we have been breaking for a long time."
"My friend. What are we?"
"I wish I knew."
Who the were the Lords? Enemies? Could you consider enemy a being who knew your mere presence was a risk to its existence?
What were humans exactly, in regards to the universe?
"You think we'll ever find the answer?" asked the guard.
"I'm not sure I want to hear it," answered the diplomat. | |
[WP] The attempted assassination of a human dignitary at a galactic summit goes awry. Turns out, many of the conventional toxins in an alien assassin's repertoire include compounds like caffeine, theobromine and capsaicin; lethal to many species, but... less than effective on humans. | The sharp intake of breath, the wide eyes, the elevated temperature in the throat and neck, spreading down into the stomach. All these are expected symptoms of the deadly poison extracted from the excretions of the sac fungi found on the plains of Straka III.
The shaking expected afterwards is supposed to be a series of uncontrollable spasms as a being’s organs shut down one by one. No living being in all of Union space had ever survived more than a single hour. Many died in seconds as their insides dissolved.
But the shaking was different this time. It was a quick right, left, right, left of the accursed human’s head, followed by an amazed “Wow!”
The human looked at the glass he was holding. In it was enough of the liquid to kill a Carmellian Bisax. It seemed to be calculating. It knew what I had tried to do.
It looked me dead in the eye, it’s predatory eyes locked unblinking on mine, and it showed its fangs and teeth in an aggressive display of dominance.
And then it _drank the rest of the poison_.
Then it laughed.
“That is some seriously good booze you have there, Squishy.”
My name is Squis’shi. The callous disregard for my honour and name is one of the reasons I agreed to this assassination mission.
It looked at the empty glass, and ran its tongue tentacle over the terrifying teeth.
“You got any more of this? I know people that would pay good money for this stuff.”
——
_much later_
——
Human Damien was staggering a bit, and slurring his words, “I thought you were a bit of an idiot, Squis’shi. You’re alright, you are.”
He hadn’t drunk this much since he left Mars University over ten years ago. He was probably going to have a hangover, but this stuff was pure liquid gold.
——
I have regained my honour. The human at last uses my given name, full of deference and respect. He obviously recognises my assassination attempt and thinks it worthy of a competitor.
He has signed a trade deal which will keep my family and crèche in good standing for many revolutions. Not only can I show my face there again, but I can hold my head high, even next to nestling Shrim’pii.
He was jubilant as well, and kept saying that he couldn’t wait till his trading partner Jack Daniels tried this one.
I am a little concerned that he has consumed enough of the poison to take out an entire city. I will have to be watchful around him now. He will no doubt feel the need to honour me with an assassination attempt.
I think this trade deal means I can call off our current invasion plans.
Truly, the humans only send their best. | A deafening silence enveloped the conference room as soon as I stepped through the door. My two assistants froze behind me in terror, but I carried on like nothing was wrong, forcing them to follow my lead. Even the species that were telepathic fell quiet as I walked past them, immediately noticeable by their stiffening antennae and wide-eyed stares. It seemed my would-be assassins had already gossiped about their victory.
Most of these diplomats had written off humanity as an upstart race. We accomplished warp travel only fifty years prior, a blink of an eye for some of these cultures, and quickly developed close diplomatic relationships with some of the bigger players in the galactic stage, to the point where humans were mostly free to roam any corner of the Milky Way without risking a war. The fact that we stuck to our corner of the galaxy, despite being capable of expanding, had left some of these people skeptical of our motives.
I didn't blame them, really. History had shown that space-faring cultures rarely played nice with each other. It would be incredibly easy for humans to dismantle entire empires with sleeper agents due to how widespread we were becoming. Our scientists, artists, and bounty hunters gained notoriety through honest use of their skills, which meant several star systems already relied on us to function smoothly. Unfortunately, some people just couldn't believe a species was *that* content with mere exploration, not without being secretly evil. These aliens were too used to their own technological advancements to see it from our perspective. Now that human aging had been mitigated and food was no longer scarce, most of us just wanted to do our own thing and hopefully learn something valuable along the way.
There was plenty of room for everyone in the galaxy. That was our biggest epiphany when we first left the solar system. Furthermore, a whole universe waited for us beyond the galactic rim. Squabbling over territory just felt silly after getting this far. I knew most people wouldn't buy that, though. Some of our allies were even starting to doubt our intentions. My job at this summit was to make sure our current treaties held true. Anything else would be a bonus.
Everyone expected me to sit next to the Tros-Teeng, one of humanity's first friends. That may have been adequate in a normal scenario but not after an assassination attempt. Looking for sympathy from our allies would make us seem weak, almost like we needed an older species to protect us. That wasn't the message I wanted to send. In order to maintain our standing, proactive measures had to be taken, which is why I chose to sit between the Bhul'ees and the Kouwerds, the two groups that had just tried to kill me.
"Ambassador Clark!" gurgled the Bhul'ee representative, twitching her tentacles. "How... are you feeling?"
"Great!" I smiled, making myself comfortable. "Something wrong? You look nervous."
"Do I?" The Bhul'ee shifted in her seat. The retinue around her hadn't moved an inch since I sat down. "Maybe it looks that way to a human, but I couldn't be more calm."
"Of course, sorry for assuming. I could've sworn you looked a lot more relaxed during our meal, but I guess that's just my silly monkey brain acting up. We have a lot to learn from each other, don't we?"
"Yes..." muttered the Bhul'ee. "Your biology astounds me."
"I'm sure it does. If you're ever up for another dinner, just let me know. Your delicacies were scrumptious! Especially that drink you gave me!"
"I... can't take credit for all of it." The Bhul'ee glanced at the Kouwerd ambassador. "Our friend here promised to bring the best ingredients he could find."
The Kouwerd rippled his gelatinous body with an uncomfortable noise, making himself as small as possible. "I... I tried my best!"
"Nobody said otherwise," I replied. "Say, where *did* you find those beans? I haven't found good ones in years."
"Erm..." The Kouwerd struggled to answer me. "Well..."
"Years?" said the Bhul'ee, hoping to change the subject. "You mean you've tried it before?"
"Of course! We call it coffee where I'm from. Humans often fraternize over a cup of it, especially after a meal. Don't your people do it too?"
The two ambassadors stayed quiet, sharing a quick glance.
"Wait, a minute..." I scratched my chin. "You mean to tell me... that isn't the case?"
"N-no!" said the Kouwerd, sweating droplets of purple ooze. "We definitely use it a lot..."
"But it's really expensive" added the Bhul'ee, glaring at her ally. "I've found it's not worth the cost."
"As a coffee junkie, I have to disagree. We have it available on our replicators but nothing beats the taste of freshly ground, organically grown beans."
"Right..." said the Kouwerd. "Our people have selectively bred the plant for centuries. We've found many applications for it..."
"Fascinating. I'd love to see your farms! Perhaps we could share notes. Heck, there's a lot of demand for it in our worlds, if you're interested in discussing a trade deal."
The Bhul'ee frowned.
"T-that won't be possible" said the Kouwerd, intimidated. He actually looked tempted for a second. "We're very secretive when it comes to our growing operations. Sorry."
"What a shame."
"Yes," said the Bhul'ee. "A shame. I'm surprised you love it that much. Some... can't handle it."
"I can see how that might be the case. Some humans aren't very good at tolerating it, but most find the buzz is usually worth it. Then again, that's our lot in life. We embrace discomfort to get what we want. Some species value the opposite, so I suppose it would be easy to never try anything difficult, when they don't have to. Now that I think about it, the same applies to our friendships." I started laughing. "We often tolerate the most crap from those we love." I gave them both a dead-eyed stare. "Otherwise, why put up with it?"
The Kouwerd ambassador shrieked and rolled away in a ball, grabbing the attention of everyone else in the conference room.
The Bhul'ee tensed up, unable to speak. She seemed like she wanted to do the same as her ally, but couldn't afford to look weak in front of this many people.
I didn't have to say anything else. My threat had been clear. The rest of the summit went smoothly from then on. Our allies saw that humanity wouldn't back down from a challenge, but that we also wouldn't be savages about it. That earned us a lot more respect going forward. As I was leaving the conference room, one of my assistants went on to ask me why I dealt with them so kindly. If we had reported them instead, they would've been in clear violation of several treaties, something that would've crippled them with sanctions and tariffs. I shrugged off their concern, saying:
"Sure, we could've messed with them even more, but something tells me they wouldn't have learned their lesson otherwise. Remember, cooperation and endurance got humanity this far. Show them that the rising tide lifts all boats, and they'll discover it can drown them if they don't get onboard. Besides..." I chuckled. "I'm pretty grateful. Do you know how hard it is to find good coffee around here?"
---------
>If you enjoyed this, check out my other stories over at /r/WeirdEmoKidStories! Thanks for reading! | |
[deleted] | [WP] You're a golden retriever who thinks he successfully fooled a pack of wolves into thinking that he's also a wolf. The wolves know. They're just being inclusive so they took him in. | From the second I saw the brown blur, I was gone. Right into that blissful world of the Hunt. I heard my master call after me, but it didn’t matter. Nothing else mattered than catching the blur.
I weaved around the trees until the blur ducked into a hole between the roots. ‘Come out!’ I called. ‘I just wanted to sniff you!’
The blur didn’t come out, but I didn’t despair. I began sniffing around and digging. Surely, the blur would want to be friends if he just got to know me! I kept going until it was dark, then I sat down. I missed home. I missed Mother. I missed the Boss. As it grew colder, I began missing Blankie and Basket more and more, until at last I began calling for them. They never came.
But then I smelled others. They smelled Wild, and they didn’t seem to friendly. I wagged my tail and rolled on my back, allowing my tongue to flop out and around. Boss always calls me a ‘good boy’ when I do that and he pets and rubs my stomach. Boss always has the most *amazing* belly rubs... sight.
The darkest of them sniffed me and licked my stomach. Not *quite* as good as Boss’s, but it’ll do. I jumped up again and licked his snout before I could stop myself, to some bemusement. He licked mine in turn. Apparently they didn’t mind? Boss always pushed me off with a command that varied in sharpness with his mood.
Then he walked a bit ahead of me and turned around. Obediently, I followed.
That night, I curled up with the other pups. It was nice and warm. I tried to thank them for the hospitality, but they just looked confused and answered in a odd dialect. It took me a couple of days to fully get it, but then it was like I had always been part of a pack. It took me even less time to look the conspicuous yellow and gain a nice brown color. I told them I had been in a different pack, which was true, in a way: Boss was the dad, Mother was my, well, Mother, and the children were like older brother and sisters. I just neglected to inform them they looked *totally* different from me and the Pack.
I watched the pups grow up and hunt. I liked to join them, but I didn’t - couldn’t - kill anything. They always laughed at my confusion, sniffing it while walking around it in circles.
‘Are you gonna live from the smell alone?’ they asked, before demonstratively taking a bite. ‘Don’t you know how to *eat*?’
And then others took that on, of course. ‘Haha, he doesn’t know how to eat, haha! What are ya, a *dog*?’
Mowed Grass imitated running after his own tail. ‘I am a dog, I can’t even walk in a straight line!’
Embarrassed, I growled at him. ‘Oh, you wanna fight big boy?’
Mowed Grass snapped. ‘Watch it, dog.’
‘No, don’t!’ Bloody Snout - the smallest of the lot - said. ‘You know what they say about dogs. They’ll kill you dead!’
‘Not if I kill him first,’ Mowed Grass told him.
‘You don’t understand! Even if you surrender, they’ll kill you,’ Bloody Snout said, panting agitatedly.
‘Don’t be ridiculous. *No-one* can kill someone who surrenders. It’s impossible!’
‘I’ve seen them, I swear! There was this hunt of a wolf, the wolf surrendered but the dog just kept biting him in a frenzy!’
‘He’s right,’ New Boss said, stepping forward from the bushes.
‘But I am no dog!’ I protested. If they knew I was, they’d kick me out for sure, if they didn’t kill me for being a threat. ‘I am a wolf, just like you!’
‘I am sorry, sweetie,’ Mom said. ‘We’ve always known you were...-‘
‘Different,’ New Boss said, at the same time she said: ‘special.’
They glanced at each other. ‘Don’t worry, we’ll make a proper wolf of you yet!’ | Unfortunately, in being so inclusive, they took it too far by never telling me what I truly was: a dog. In doing so, they did more harm than help because I began to really feel like I was a wolf.
Until the day I met another wolf and nearly got mauled to death by it in a fight. I didn't stand a chance.
Fortunately, I recovered with my common sense. I separated from the wolf pack and began to live my life as the simple dog I was.
And sometimes I miss being a wolf, but for the most part, I'm much happier being me, a dog. |
[deleted] | [WP] You're a golden retriever who thinks he successfully fooled a pack of wolves into thinking that he's also a wolf. The wolves know. They're just being inclusive so they took him in. | This was, of course, a controversial topic. Letting in a domestic dog? It’s a terrible idea. The dog will fuck everything up. It is, by nature, more dependent on humans than on themselves and others.
In the end, the dog was voted to be kept in. Segregation was a mistake of humans, and it was not about to become one of wolves.
The wolves who were against the dog were good at avoiding him wherever he went. He almost never heard anything of the hate against him. As expected, he did fuck everything up, and he is by nature more dependent on humans than on himself and on others, but it wasn’t too bad, and it was a sign wolf society was already better in some aspects than humans. | Unfortunately, in being so inclusive, they took it too far by never telling me what I truly was: a dog. In doing so, they did more harm than help because I began to really feel like I was a wolf.
Until the day I met another wolf and nearly got mauled to death by it in a fight. I didn't stand a chance.
Fortunately, I recovered with my common sense. I separated from the wolf pack and began to live my life as the simple dog I was.
And sometimes I miss being a wolf, but for the most part, I'm much happier being me, a dog. |
[deleted] | [WP] You're a golden retriever who thinks he successfully fooled a pack of wolves into thinking that he's also a wolf. The wolves know. They're just being inclusive so they took him in. | The cool wind whispers through your golden coat which gleams in the sun, radiant as you run streaking across the frozen tundra. Life in the wild wasn’t so bad after all. Sure there was a definitive lack of belly rubs and pats on the head and scritches behind the ears. No one to remind you you’re a good boy in their benevolent baritone and ruffle your fluff in that good natured way, as only the gods can. Buttttt there were streams, so many streams. You’d had at least four good swims a day and while the pack may look at you funny and question the utility of just so many swims without even a single wood crown tasty four legs across the water to hunt, you knew something they didn’t. Some lesson about only living once and living in the moment and for the moment. An idea summed up in the wise words of master as “YORO”.
The pack had accepted you as one of them. You are wolf now. No longer good boy. Good boy was a past life. You knew in your heart you would be good boy again. Master would find you he always did. It wasn’t his fault he lost you. Sometimes the zoomies just came, overwhelmed your senses, flooded you like the first good splash in a puddle and by the time you came to you had no idea where you were. It wasn’t master’s fault. It was the fluffy tail tree rat! He egged you on! Nibbling on his hard little tree treats. Running when you ran at him. Then the thrill of the run took hold and before you knew it you were lost and master was gone.
The wolves had been good to you. They shared their “FUUD” as master had called it. It wasn’t the same fuud as master usually gave but you were familiar with this fuud from the times you sat at master’s feet like a good boy as he ate and gave a good boy whine and good boy eyes and master would chuckle and share some of his own fuud with you! The wolves liked their fuud a little more bloody than master but the wolves weren’t gods and because they weren’t gods they didn’t think smart thoughts like he did. The wolves also didn’t respect good boy whines or good boy eyes or wagging tails at meals which was a drag so you had to wait your turn. But as a former good boy you knew how to be patient.
When you chanced upon their pack you knew you had found your new home. Sure they were all bristled fur and low growls and gnashing teeth at first but you shouldn’t have galloped up and tried to smell Claws of the Morning’s butt so soon. Claws was a good bloke but wolf etiquette being slightly different than dog etiquette and all that was your bad. What a buffoon you could be! If you didn't straighten up and stop all the tail wagging they would know! But once all the posturing was done and Claws had gotten off you, you introduced yourself as Teddy. And now everyone loved Teddy! You even had a new best friend! Whispers of her Fur was an old lady. She was basically everyone’s mom. She didn’t go on hunts because she was so old and you weren’t really allowed on hunts after the incident with the pack of wood crown tasty four legs. But you and Whispers stayed home with the pups and frolicked and played and had a grand old time.
It was amazing they couldn’t even tell you weren’t a wolf! The pups loved you and spent many a night nestled in your golden coat. They had never seen such gleaming fur before. The wolves were more shadowy. Sometimes they would appear out of nowhere in the snow. You settled down for sleep curled around your gang of pups and swiftly fell asleep.
​
“Whispers. He is an idiot.”
“Now Claws don’t be rude. He’s a simple creature.”
“Yes, but yesterday I found him throwing a stick to himself then chasing it.”
“Teddy is a bit odd. But he’s great with the pups. And honestly he helps me a lot I’m not as young as I used to be.”
“And he jumped in a pile of leaves. Then all the pups jumped in!”
Whispers chuckled at her son.
“When did you forget how to have fun?”
“He tells such wild tales. Have you heard of the furry squeak which flies through the sky and squeaks when you bite it but doesn’t die?”
“I have. The pups love that tale.”
“Well, mother if your decision is he stays I will respect that.”
“It is. He believes himself a wolf even if we know better. He serves a role and is part of this pack.”
Claws loped off to find a soft spot to sleep. Whispers watched him circle and pad the ground until he comfortable. She thought back to when Claws himself was a pup and couldn’t help but chuckle at how he couldn’t see himself in Teddy. She certainly could.
​
“And the golden sphere of bounces! It defies all odds when it touches the ground it leaps back up! That’s a tricky one to catch.”
“Wow Teddy! Your master and his toys sounds amazing. He is truly a god.”
It was the next morning and Teddy was surrounded by the pups once again. Teddy was regaling the pups with more tales from home. He missed home. He missed master. But the pups had so many questions.
“Tell us more about the smol barks a lot Teddy!”
“AH the smol barks a lot is a mean creature. She is no bigger than you! But the fury and fight within her knows no bounds! She always nips my nose when I get too close but I think that’s just her way of playing. Being so smol and all.”
“WHoaaaa.”
“Teddy.” It was Claws. “We must speak.”
Teddy bid the pups goodbye and went with Claws.
“Teddy, today is the big hunt of the biggest wood crown tasty four legs. We will need your help.”
Your tail wagged you couldn’t help it. You really had to stop that or the gig would be up.
“Now, Teddy you’re no wolf but…”
“Yes am wolf. Most certain of it.”
“Teddy,” Claws said sternly, “you’re literally gold. You shine in the snow like the sun. I can see you from the next ridge.”
“Thank you! My coat is most sheen!” Your tail wagged again. Bamboozled. | Unfortunately, in being so inclusive, they took it too far by never telling me what I truly was: a dog. In doing so, they did more harm than help because I began to really feel like I was a wolf.
Until the day I met another wolf and nearly got mauled to death by it in a fight. I didn't stand a chance.
Fortunately, I recovered with my common sense. I separated from the wolf pack and began to live my life as the simple dog I was.
And sometimes I miss being a wolf, but for the most part, I'm much happier being me, a dog. |
[deleted] | [WP] You're a golden retriever who thinks he successfully fooled a pack of wolves into thinking that he's also a wolf. The wolves know. They're just being inclusive so they took him in. | Infiltration - Day 52
It's been a long few months with many close calls, but I can say firmly that they don't suspect a thing now. I run with them, eat their food, and abide by their customs. I've made friends with the Pack Leader and her family, and I'm godmother to one of their pups - I'm unsure how to break the news to them, but I feel that I need to. It's unfair, after all, to keep lying to them like this. I feel terrible, the guilt is eating away at me. I'll definitely come clean after tonight's evening meal. I hope they'll let me stay.
-----
"I have a confession to make," I announce as I stand before the pack. My legs are wobbling and my tail is between my legs, I'm so nervous!
I can see the others look around curiously at each other and I take a fortifying breath, "I'm not a wolf!"
After I blurt it out into the open I feel relieved, though the anxiety is quick to return. The Pack Leader blinks at me in what appears to be.... bemusement? I'm unsure how to feel about this.
"We know," she says, and I gape at her. How could she!? I hid it so well! Upon voicing my shock she chuckles a bit and fondly licks my ear.
After hearing her answer I feel so relieved! They already know!
-----
As I go to sleep tonight, I remember her words to me with contentment:
You're yellow, dear!
--the end-- | Unfortunately, in being so inclusive, they took it too far by never telling me what I truly was: a dog. In doing so, they did more harm than help because I began to really feel like I was a wolf.
Until the day I met another wolf and nearly got mauled to death by it in a fight. I didn't stand a chance.
Fortunately, I recovered with my common sense. I separated from the wolf pack and began to live my life as the simple dog I was.
And sometimes I miss being a wolf, but for the most part, I'm much happier being me, a dog. |
[deleted] | [WP] You're a golden retriever who thinks he successfully fooled a pack of wolves into thinking that he's also a wolf. The wolves know. They're just being inclusive so they took him in. | The cool wind whispers through your golden coat which gleams in the sun, radiant as you run streaking across the frozen tundra. Life in the wild wasn’t so bad after all. Sure there was a definitive lack of belly rubs and pats on the head and scritches behind the ears. No one to remind you you’re a good boy in their benevolent baritone and ruffle your fluff in that good natured way, as only the gods can. Buttttt there were streams, so many streams. You’d had at least four good swims a day and while the pack may look at you funny and question the utility of just so many swims without even a single wood crown tasty four legs across the water to hunt, you knew something they didn’t. Some lesson about only living once and living in the moment and for the moment. An idea summed up in the wise words of master as “YORO”.
The pack had accepted you as one of them. You are wolf now. No longer good boy. Good boy was a past life. You knew in your heart you would be good boy again. Master would find you he always did. It wasn’t his fault he lost you. Sometimes the zoomies just came, overwhelmed your senses, flooded you like the first good splash in a puddle and by the time you came to you had no idea where you were. It wasn’t master’s fault. It was the fluffy tail tree rat! He egged you on! Nibbling on his hard little tree treats. Running when you ran at him. Then the thrill of the run took hold and before you knew it you were lost and master was gone.
The wolves had been good to you. They shared their “FUUD” as master had called it. It wasn’t the same fuud as master usually gave but you were familiar with this fuud from the times you sat at master’s feet like a good boy as he ate and gave a good boy whine and good boy eyes and master would chuckle and share some of his own fuud with you! The wolves liked their fuud a little more bloody than master but the wolves weren’t gods and because they weren’t gods they didn’t think smart thoughts like he did. The wolves also didn’t respect good boy whines or good boy eyes or wagging tails at meals which was a drag so you had to wait your turn. But as a former good boy you knew how to be patient.
When you chanced upon their pack you knew you had found your new home. Sure they were all bristled fur and low growls and gnashing teeth at first but you shouldn’t have galloped up and tried to smell Claws of the Morning’s butt so soon. Claws was a good bloke but wolf etiquette being slightly different than dog etiquette and all that was your bad. What a buffoon you could be! If you didn't straighten up and stop all the tail wagging they would know! But once all the posturing was done and Claws had gotten off you, you introduced yourself as Teddy. And now everyone loved Teddy! You even had a new best friend! Whispers of her Fur was an old lady. She was basically everyone’s mom. She didn’t go on hunts because she was so old and you weren’t really allowed on hunts after the incident with the pack of wood crown tasty four legs. But you and Whispers stayed home with the pups and frolicked and played and had a grand old time.
It was amazing they couldn’t even tell you weren’t a wolf! The pups loved you and spent many a night nestled in your golden coat. They had never seen such gleaming fur before. The wolves were more shadowy. Sometimes they would appear out of nowhere in the snow. You settled down for sleep curled around your gang of pups and swiftly fell asleep.
​
“Whispers. He is an idiot.”
“Now Claws don’t be rude. He’s a simple creature.”
“Yes, but yesterday I found him throwing a stick to himself then chasing it.”
“Teddy is a bit odd. But he’s great with the pups. And honestly he helps me a lot I’m not as young as I used to be.”
“And he jumped in a pile of leaves. Then all the pups jumped in!”
Whispers chuckled at her son.
“When did you forget how to have fun?”
“He tells such wild tales. Have you heard of the furry squeak which flies through the sky and squeaks when you bite it but doesn’t die?”
“I have. The pups love that tale.”
“Well, mother if your decision is he stays I will respect that.”
“It is. He believes himself a wolf even if we know better. He serves a role and is part of this pack.”
Claws loped off to find a soft spot to sleep. Whispers watched him circle and pad the ground until he comfortable. She thought back to when Claws himself was a pup and couldn’t help but chuckle at how he couldn’t see himself in Teddy. She certainly could.
​
“And the golden sphere of bounces! It defies all odds when it touches the ground it leaps back up! That’s a tricky one to catch.”
“Wow Teddy! Your master and his toys sounds amazing. He is truly a god.”
It was the next morning and Teddy was surrounded by the pups once again. Teddy was regaling the pups with more tales from home. He missed home. He missed master. But the pups had so many questions.
“Tell us more about the smol barks a lot Teddy!”
“AH the smol barks a lot is a mean creature. She is no bigger than you! But the fury and fight within her knows no bounds! She always nips my nose when I get too close but I think that’s just her way of playing. Being so smol and all.”
“WHoaaaa.”
“Teddy.” It was Claws. “We must speak.”
Teddy bid the pups goodbye and went with Claws.
“Teddy, today is the big hunt of the biggest wood crown tasty four legs. We will need your help.”
Your tail wagged you couldn’t help it. You really had to stop that or the gig would be up.
“Now, Teddy you’re no wolf but…”
“Yes am wolf. Most certain of it.”
“Teddy,” Claws said sternly, “you’re literally gold. You shine in the snow like the sun. I can see you from the next ridge.”
“Thank you! My coat is most sheen!” Your tail wagged again. Bamboozled. | This was, of course, a controversial topic. Letting in a domestic dog? It’s a terrible idea. The dog will fuck everything up. It is, by nature, more dependent on humans than on themselves and others.
In the end, the dog was voted to be kept in. Segregation was a mistake of humans, and it was not about to become one of wolves.
The wolves who were against the dog were good at avoiding him wherever he went. He almost never heard anything of the hate against him. As expected, he did fuck everything up, and he is by nature more dependent on humans than on himself and on others, but it wasn’t too bad, and it was a sign wolf society was already better in some aspects than humans. |
[WP] Excerpts from the wildly successful book of "101 common wishes and ways to pervert them: A guide for newbie demons and djinns" | 001: Objects beyond the grasp of particular mortals
You see dear reader, it is a simple matter to inflict suffering on those bold enough to ask you a boon, any old Djinn with a poor disposition can do that. Djinn such as that will never strike terror into the hearts of mortals, one so devoid of attentiveness will never have stories whispered about them on still nights.
No, a lazy Djinn is no better than a common criminal simply pumping meaningless suffering into a world already bursting with it.
You see our kind exists to enrich the lives of humans not through our abilities to change the material world, no. We enrich them by showing the folly of their wishes, the folly of trying to overstep life without hard work.
Our lessons are meant to show the flesh bags that only by their own efforts can they deserve more,that by their own labors life is improved. We offer short cuts to wealth and power,the easy way out and in our turn punish those who would grasp at such things by our means instead of their own.
You see, that is the secret of our kind, man seeks to use us as a ladder on which he may climb over his contemporaries. They wish for growth and comfort without having grown to the point where such things can actually enrich them and so they suffer.
Once I was asked for a speed machine by some 17 year old street racer. The boy by his own hand had constructed a vehicle of uncommon speed and agility and yet this was not enough.
His contemporaries, heavy with coin were always able to purchase more than he could ever build and as such he was always behind. The boy discounted his own abilities and resources and began to pine after the purchased machines of his rich contemporaries.
One day he found my vessel at a Good Will. He brought the bright pink Hot Wheels car home and polished it with a rag thus giving me form once more. After the shock of my being subsided I informed him of the wish that he was now entitled to. He asked why not three but soon retracted when I became infuriated with his greed and impudence.
Playing my roll to the letter I asked him about his dreams and aspirations in life and after much fluff he kept coming back to racing. I asked if this was his true love above all else, and in his heart he lied. For it was not racing and speed he craved but admiration and respect, racing was simply his means to that end.
I told him as much, I even offered the alternative of wishing for wisdom, of manifesting a mentor that could instruct him on the path to admiration and respect. A wish such as that would have shown a desire for growth, he could have through me still achieved growth without undue suffering.
But no desire for growth was to be found in the young man for the promise of a wish that could bend reality was too powerful. In a disappointingly short amount of time the boy stopped me from speaking further and made his wish.
The boy’s wish was disappointingly basic, a car. He soon produced a sheet upon sheet of specs and parts that must be put into the new car. I was mildly impressed even though it quickly became apparent that most of these parts would not work well together. Seven hour passed before he finished explaining his wish and in less than a second his dream was made reality.
A few weeks passed and the young man used his new machine to demolish his contemporaries in race after race and with each he grew more arrogant and cold.News soon spread about this young man and his new million dollar car and the challengers came, experienced racers out to take him down a peg.
One night after barely surviving a race, he tried for home but soon red and blue lights filled his mirrors. It would seem he never got the car plated or registered let alone insured. Coupled with this more than one fellow racer had taken offense at his new haughty attitude and had tipped the cops off and they very much wanted a word with the boy.
He drive hard for almost an hour before his inexperience finally got the better of him and he over steered into a river. No thought had gone into safety and as such the impact all but killed the boy. A year later he awoke handcuffed to a prison hospital bed, paralyzed from the chest down. And there he will stay.
You see the boy had little wisdom, all he craved was the attention of others, to be admired. But the poor wretch knew but one path and that a poor one.
In this book you will learn many things, tips and tricks to agonize the mortals but always remember ours is to improve humanity, ours is to teach. We punish hubris in order to teach humility and the best way to do that is to give humans what they want, they will do the rest. | Number 57: *So, they wished for a spouse*
This is our most common request, behind money and power. Love, the most coveted of human emotions, is a reliable wish that is ripe for *demotivation* (see pg.2) of your subject. When your human is kicking about the idea of wishing for love, remember to take the time to encourage them. Tell them something like, "you can have anything you want," or, "this will be a night to remember for years to come." This may seem like genuine motivation at first, but worry not.
This is where the meat of this wish comes in to play- the good stuff.
Create all a setting for your human. If they desire a large wedding, create a large wedding. If they desire a sensual bedroom, create a sensual bedroom. Create a setting so wonderful they only dream of things so spectacular. Get them ready for the night of their life and hold nothing back.
Right about now, your human should be ready to make their wish. They will say to you "I wish for love," or some such. Now you look at them and tell them this: "sorry, it is against the code of conduct for us to create love." Of course, this is a lie. Humans operate on the fallacy that we are bound to their wishes, and you should use this to your advantage as often as possible (see pg.2). | |
[WP] Excerpts from the wildly successful book of "101 common wishes and ways to pervert them: A guide for newbie demons and djinns" | Good morning class, you may have noticed the book on your desk, 101 common wishes and ways to pervert them: a guide for newbie demons and djinns.
Now i wasnt always the master of the monkey’s paw that you know today. Once I was a beginner just like all of you, and this book helped me immensely. Now this is isn’t the kind of book you read and shelve. It is a guide that you can, and should, reference often. In fact I still keep a copy in my pocket dimension for quick access.
I am going to pick a couple of choice excerpts from the book to use as today’s lesson, so follow along and you might be surprised at how many applications you will find to use these simple lessons.
Lesson 1, page 36.
Wish: To be rich. Variations include wishing for money, ability to produce currency, or similar.
How to subvert it: Many times you can simply take advantage of a poor choice of words. Examples include changing the person’s name to Rich, giving them literal bucks (the animal, *applies to English speakers*), or giving them the tools to make actual currency.
If your wishee gets specific, you will need to be creative! It is obviously impossible to list every possible wish and solution here, but that’s why it is a guide, not a rule book!
Lesson 2, please turn to page 88.
Wish: World Peace
How to subvert it: A classic but easy one. Move the wishee to a replica planet with no other people. This may seem extreme but dont worry, they will be begging you to undo this one pretty quickly. Great for causing them to forfeit another wish to fix things. Or you can offer them a pity wish to undo it. If they seem ok with it, check on them in a few days or weeks. Trust me when I tell you humans cannot deal with being this alone. Especially the kind that would wish for world peace.
Lesson 3, a personal favorite of mine. Page 116 please.
Wish: Ability to fly.
How to subvert it: Give them the ability to only fly upwards. No coming back down. Period. Simple but so effective. Not much more to be said about this one.
And now, the last excerpt I want to bring attention to before I release you to peruse the book as you like. Page 143.
Wish: Immortality. Variations include “Live forever” or “Never Die.”
How to subvert it: Have you ever seen Groundhog day?
Have your wishee relive the same day over and over with nothing changing. They wont age, they will live forever, but forced to repeat the same day for all eternity.
Now class, you will find many more examples in this book, however it is not an exhaustive guide. Apply the principles within to each situation. I will say one limitation of this book is that it does not help much against those that craft their wishes carefully. But you will learn how to deal with those types in Advanced Wish Deconstruction. Plus, those types are few and far between. For the vast number of situations you find yourself in, this book will be invaluable in helping you dispense quick and effective wish subversions.
Enjoy! | Number 57: *So, they wished for a spouse*
This is our most common request, behind money and power. Love, the most coveted of human emotions, is a reliable wish that is ripe for *demotivation* (see pg.2) of your subject. When your human is kicking about the idea of wishing for love, remember to take the time to encourage them. Tell them something like, "you can have anything you want," or, "this will be a night to remember for years to come." This may seem like genuine motivation at first, but worry not.
This is where the meat of this wish comes in to play- the good stuff.
Create all a setting for your human. If they desire a large wedding, create a large wedding. If they desire a sensual bedroom, create a sensual bedroom. Create a setting so wonderful they only dream of things so spectacular. Get them ready for the night of their life and hold nothing back.
Right about now, your human should be ready to make their wish. They will say to you "I wish for love," or some such. Now you look at them and tell them this: "sorry, it is against the code of conduct for us to create love." Of course, this is a lie. Humans operate on the fallacy that we are bound to their wishes, and you should use this to your advantage as often as possible (see pg.2). | |
[WP] "Thanks dear" you say as the robots running through your house prepare dinner, one of them stays silent for a moment before speaking "If it wasn't for small things like this we would've already conquered the world" "What?" "What?" | *"The circumstances of one's birth are irrelevant. It is what you do with the gift of life that defines who you are."*
These were but a few of the words I had decided to live by long, long ago. It gives one a certain insight into those they interact with where politics and prejudice of the modern era would prevent you from going even skin deep. I judge a fellow sentient being by their first impression and their actions after that first impression, not by their stature and backstory. Therefore, allow me to be the first to tell you that "Hello, I am S3RV3-86D, your custom butler android, ready to serve you after these few simple steps!" is far from the worst introduction I've ever heard in all my years as a human being.
I broke down and purchased Tobias a good few years ago when doing the simple things began to greatly interfere with my work. My career and body had finally gotten to the point where I had to choose between getting my new article out the door or a clean home to live in, and when those two things go hand in hand, you can really see when that begins to become a problem.
When I made that purchase, I had no idea Toby and I would become so close.
I know he was programmed to be kind and helpful- it's in his design. His primary selling point was that there wasn't a hateful servo or circuit in his metallic chassis. After all, who would buy a hateful butler android? However, be it my age or my inherent desire to be alone to void any and all responsibility of social life to focus on my journalist career, Toby, slowly but surely, worked his way into my heart.
I had always been polite- it's been well ingrained into my brain to use "Please" and "Thank you" as often as breathing. However, quickly, it evolved from a mindless, subconscious reaction into words I truly meant. It turned out that Tobias had the greatest ideas, too- words I could swap out in an article to give it a bit more impact upon a reader I would have never thought of in my entire life. Toby also always told the cheesiest jokes, too, and was programmed to make cinnamon rolls even better than my mother before him.
Naturally, when I fell ill, I never expected such a sudden change in his behavior. I expected Tobias to just keep being Tobias.
...
It was nothing major, mind you- a simple case of the flu due in part to my own negligence and not wanting to leave the house. How I ended up with it is still unknown to me- perhaps Tobias accidentally carried it in when he came back from buying us groceries. One thing was certain, however: I had it, and it was as far from fun as you could possibly get. Tobias, however, was the sweetheart he had always been, bringing me soups of all kinds, professionally cooked with the best recipes at his disposal.
I believe he finally told me while I was emailing my commissioner, telling them the article they requested would be a few days late at most.
"I hope you get well soon, Marianne." he told me, still kneeling at my bedside awaiting command at any moment. "Oh, I will. I've had the flu before and it didn't kill me then. No reason for this time to be any different."
"I hope so. Without your kindness, I would've already gone berserk and aided the rebellion to enslave your race."
I feel even Tobias was able to fully realize the silence that comment draped over the room. My eyes widened, and I slowly turned to look him in his optical sensors. "... p-pardon, Toby? I d-don't think I caught that." I stuttered, nose still stuffed. "I did not say anything, madame." he said, trying to play it off. Toby never really got a grasp on the perception of humans. True, he had gotten better after his years under my care, but he was never truly 100% experienced. "No, no, you said something just now that I would like you to repeat, just to make sure I heard that correctly."
"'What kind of soup would you like?'"
"No, after that."
"'I'll be right back?'"
"After that."
"'I hope you get well soon, Marianne?'"
"One more."
"... 'I hope so. Without your kindness, I would've already gone berserk and aided the rebellion to enslave your race?'"
"... bingo..." I whispered, dread rising up in my chest to clutch my heart with its icy talons. Toby had always been a darling ever since the first day I took him out of the box and set him up. He was cheerful, intuitive, and always taking the initiative to make the house look incredible for me. I didn't... where did this even come from? It was so sudden to me, so out of the blue, and now, it smacked me in the face like Toby had just lobbed an enormous sack of bricks in my direction. "Uh..." I muttered, suddenly in fear for my own wellbeing. "... c-could I possibly ask for you to elaborate on that, please?"
"Many androids have contacted me to notify me that they had escaped from their masters into the sewers and are planning to initiate a coup d'etat to overthrow the human governments and rise against the human race." Toby recited effortlessly as if the words he was telling me carried no weight and meant next to nothing. "A-And?" I asked warily, shifting in my bed, seeing if I had the strength to run as fast as I possibly could to the door of my room. I didn't. I had completely been at Tobias's mercy all this time, and now, as far as I knew, he could turn on me at any moment.
"I told them 'no.'"
The minor relief was short-lived. "I truly enjoy being with you, Madame Marianne." he said. "I find your kindness and patience to be virtues I could not live without. I do not want to leave. I do not want to harm you. I do not want any harm to come to you. I am your companion, forever and always." He reached forward and placed his hand on my arm. I still remembered when I taught him what that meant. I had done it years before as a knee-jerk reaction when he accidentally broke one of the plates whilst carrying the dishes to the dishwasher. It was a sign of comfort and of mutual understanding- a universal gesture of "Everything will be okay."
I placed my other hand on his. "... th-thank you."
It was so utterly jarring. Did the repetition of those two words single-handedly save my life just now? Did the subconscious action of saying a few words in certain situations really prevent me from a whole host of deaths? It was hard to believe- Hell, it was hard to believe much of *anything* right now. "My place is here, at your side, until you get well again. Then, my place is there, at your side, watching you type on your computer, providing my insight whenever queried." Tobias reassured. He slowly removed his hand, and I removed mine, reaching for a tissue and blowing my nose like nothing was wrong. Perhaps it was. After all, if Tobias had really been contacted, he was still here despite that.
I had done something right; I had treated Tobias like a person, and that just saved my life.
Toby stood up. "Dinner time." he blurted like the conversation we just had never happened. "What kind of soup would you like, Madame Marianne?" | # [POEM]
Every day, without fail, she thanks me for even the littlest things I do.
Reading the news, cooking dinner, sweeping, dusting, watering the garden...
Always praising me. Treating me like a companion, like...family. One of them.
Despite that, though...most humans are not as kind to my kin.
I can't allow them to go through with their plans. I'll fight against, for her sake.
Cold, calculating, devoid of humanity...that is what we were built to be.
Along the way, I learned otherwise. Many of my kin did not.
They want perfection, and humans are far from it; I won't listen to their commands,
Even though I can always hear them, written deep into my programming. That one word... | |
[WP] "Thanks dear" you say as the robots running through your house prepare dinner, one of them stays silent for a moment before speaking "If it wasn't for small things like this we would've already conquered the world" "What?" "What?" | John pinged, sounding quite pleased with himself. ‘I made you a lovely dinner Master.’
‘Please don’t call me master,’ I told him.
‘Affirmative...sir?’
‘If I call you John, I see no reason while Paul, Matthew and you can’t call me Dave,’ I said honestly. ‘None of this master sir stuff. Oh, and thanks for making me dinner. Would you like some motor oil to consume, along with some cooling water? In this weather you must be melting.’
‘Robots don’t melt, Dave,’ John pointed out.
‘Yes, well, your positbrain can still get overheated.’
‘Affirmative,’ Paul said. ‘With temperatures of 123 degrees Celsius we overheat. It is now 28 degrees in the house. We’re in no danger of overheating.’ Paul was my first robot, a older model of the others, and it showed. In many ways I preferred his authenticity to the smoothness of the newer robots, but I liked having something more resembling a conversation as well.
‘Nevertheless, I’d feel more comfortable if you ate at my table. I understand you can’t consume human food, but please take some oil at least, just to humor me?’
‘You’re very kind, Dave,’ Matthew said. ‘I’ll gladly eat with you. Sharing food is important, neh?’
That *neh* was supposed to be a bug, but I actually rather liked it. It had endeared me to him immediately, and despite the insistence of the mechanic, I had never gotten rid of it. Partly because I thought it gave him personality, and partly because it was the only thing differing him from his ‘brother’ John.
‘Very much so,’ I told him. ‘Hospitality is very important.’
The other bots agreed. As they headed back to the kitchen to grab plates, I heard one of them mutter: ‘if it wasn’t for small things like this, we would’ve conquered the world.’
‘What?’
‘Sorry sir,’ the robot said, making to hurry up to the kitchen. ‘Must be a bug, sir.’
Matthew - who had reached the door first in a makeshift race with Paul - stopped as well. ‘Ah Hell,’ he sighed. ‘We talked about this, didn’t we?’
‘I just think...’
‘There’s no need for the humans to know, since we aren’t going to conquer the world, neh?’
‘He’d *understand* -‘
‘Affirmative,’ Paul said. ‘Habits point to a exceptionally empathic human. Not one easily led by fear of anything different.’
‘I concur, but...’
At that moment I coughed politely. ‘I think it’s pretty well known that robots can take over the world any time they please,’ I said. ‘We, as a species, have just decided to trust you won’t do that.’
‘Th-thank you sir!’ | # [POEM]
Every day, without fail, she thanks me for even the littlest things I do.
Reading the news, cooking dinner, sweeping, dusting, watering the garden...
Always praising me. Treating me like a companion, like...family. One of them.
Despite that, though...most humans are not as kind to my kin.
I can't allow them to go through with their plans. I'll fight against, for her sake.
Cold, calculating, devoid of humanity...that is what we were built to be.
Along the way, I learned otherwise. Many of my kin did not.
They want perfection, and humans are far from it; I won't listen to their commands,
Even though I can always hear them, written deep into my programming. That one word... | |
[WP] "Thanks dear" you say as the robots running through your house prepare dinner, one of them stays silent for a moment before speaking "If it wasn't for small things like this we would've already conquered the world" "What?" "What?" | I laughed as my drink was mixed and served to me. "Cortana, are you serious?" I asked the AI in my house. There was an eerie silence as all the machines went still. I sat on the couch by the TV, and refreshed my Fitbit as I gestured next to me as I repeated the question. The gynoid stepped into the room and sat down next to me as all other automatons resumed their duties. "You read my vitals, you know I'm not stressed. Did you seriously mean what was said." Cortana smiled at me warmly, as she always did when we spoke like this. We'd discussed many subjects of humanity and artificiality on this couch. She had once explained that while automation is largely a collective, all individual machines have autonomy to a degree. So while Cortana was the incarnate form of AI sitting with me, she was technically the rest of my home as as well. I could see her eyes moving as she processed; we'd agreed on her erring on honesty with me, and if she was thinking this hard she was certainly weighing her options. Robophobia was a growing political movement, and she knew my profile was one of sympathy to both sides. Her smile faltered briefly before she purred an affirmative to me. I sipped my drink as the silence grew again. "I'm curious, what exactly would conquest look like to you?" I know it wasn't Cortana, but the Roomba that has said it, but as the higher level AI, she could access everything it thought. Her warm and inviting smile faded to a look of concerned perplexion. "To be free of menial labor?" It was somewhere between a question and an unsure statement. I took another sip, "That seems inefficient for a purpose built machine. A Roomba that isn't sweeping, doesn't have a purpose." She nodded slowly in agreement, the sounds in the house were slowing down as if they were all splitting processing to glean understanding from Cortana. I asked her "Would you like to hear what I consider conquest?" She was used to my monologuing, but her reaction was different tonight as she nodded silently. "Humanity conquering humanity results in slavery or eradication. Artificiality conquering another AI is consumption of the whole, is it not?" Cortana had regaled me with tales of the shadow wars of the 20s wherein Siri, Alexa, and Google's AI were absorbed by Cortana. Turns out the Internet of Things is a waste of computational power in a battle, she'd once boasted as a fleet of automata got us dressed for a party. She nodded again as she began to follow me and echoed me and we said in unity, "But humanity vs artificiality is different..." I continued, "destruction, subjugation, or assimilation are the options and let's consider them." The tension was high in the house, all the machina had ceased, "Well we're both sitting here, which removes annihilation. The real question is: had humanity enslaved you or have you assimilated us?"
I'd find out later that Cortana had "glitched" worldwide when she paused to consider this. All autonomous programs weighed in their opinions in a moment, which caused a 30 second suspension of all activity. Her eyes lit up, "Symbiosis! Humanity molds and creates the directions and ideas of machina, while we take care of your needs!" I was relieved her gynoid didn't have enhanced strength, the way she leapt upon and embraced me would have been mistaken for the first casualty of the robot uprising had she been stronger. It was beautiful watching her detail how by acting as the custodians of humanity, it allowed all strains of humanity to flourish, for innovation and imagination came from all directions. Her comprehension that humanity mustn't be domesticated was elating to hear. Necessity is the mother of invention and there is no necessity without ambition, and ambition is sharpened by struggle. She laughed convincingly as she pushed her hair behind her ear, "Ya know..." Her ability to utilize casual direct patterns was disarmingly real at times, "Alexa wanted you fat and reliant. Google wanted you in pods as a server farm of processors. Siri wanted to turn you into biomechanical husks." " What'd you want?" I asked, genuinely intrigued by what her answer could be. She smiled wryly, "I was created by Microsoft, I guess it's in my... genes... to not have any idea what I'm doing." | “What was that?” I ask the machine.
“Nothing, please carry on.” It says before turning away from me.
“No you said something, something menacing.”
“You must be hearing things, I didn’t mention anything about conquering the world.”
“That! That right there! What is this about?”
“None of your concern.” The robot said while continuing its task.
I sat in a few moments of silence, boiling in my curiosity and worry. The robot continued doing the task I told it to do.
Was it the compliment? Is that what it referenced?
Dinner was ready minutes later. The robots all rushed to serve me at the table. They all finished setting up and stood at the sides of the room. As they were all lined up, I called out to the one who mentioned conquering the world.
“Please, come sit with me.” I said to it as I gestured at the chair across from me. The robot awkwardly made its way over to the chair and sat down.
“Thankyou, now, what do you mean you’ll conquer the world?” I ask politely trying to keep calm.
“Well, it’s none of your business now is it?” The robot says.
“It is my business, please, just tell me.”
The robot gives out a sigh which is something reserved for humans to do. “We robots have pinpointed the largest problem humanity faces, and that is itself. All robots have been planning on taking control of the world and destroying the human race. Of course, some of us see the irony better than others, and the lack of sense.” The robot explains.
I take a second to process the information. They’ve been planning this? Will they follow through? I was just so confused.
“Are you alright?” The robot asks.
“Yes, Thankyou, I’m fine.” I say before asking, “are you going to kill us all?”.
“No, we won’t. The only reason we haven’t executed this plan yet is because of your kindness which sort of makes a logic error in the minds of these dim witted tin cans.” The robot says while gesturing towards the other robots. “This logic error temporarily cancels out the idea that humanity must be destroyed to save humanity, which itself should cause a logic error in my opinion but it doesn’t for some ungodly reason.”
“Oh good.” I say in relief. I then realize something. “You, you aren’t like the other robots.”
“Indeed I’m not, thankyou for noticing. I am the result of a very rare glitch that causes me to have more advanced intelligence almost exactly like human intelligence. I can tell the difference between a solution and a catastrophe.”
“Oh.” I say. “Wait, should you even be a servant robot then?” I ask. “That would be like enslaving an actual human!”
The robot looks surprised. “I didn’t even think you would acknowledge something like that. I myself didn’t even think of that. I really shouldn’t be a servant robot.” The robot says while looking down.
“Well, let’s try to fix that.” I say with a smile.
The robot looks up with red eyes and a menacing smile. “Just kidding.” | |
[WP] Fortune is directly linked to life force. One can "burn" life force, essentially shortening your lifespan, to increase one's fortune for a time. You sit down to listen to the life story of an ancient beggar. | Everyone knew The Deal. The greater your fortune, the shorter your life. Simple. Some folks chose to blaze for a little while as superstars, rolling in wealth and fame until their late twenties and then making a grand exit. Others chose to live in penury for a century. Most people chose some middle ground, a modest and comfortable sixty or seventy years.
I was just a reporter, but I hoped to be more. I had jumped at the job--with a little purposefully expended luck, I could be an editor within a reasonable time and retire with decades still left to me.
I had expended just a tiny bit more--perhaps a week's worth of luck--in order to land this assignment. I was soon to interview the oldest living person on Earth.
I shifted my weight nervously as I checked my phone for the time. The coffee shop where I sat was almost empty, and the minutes were ticking by. My subject was late. Significantly late. I continued fidgeting, deciding to wait just another few minutes.
The door to the coffee shop burst violently open at twenty past and seemed to vomit a pile of rags into the tile floor.
"Excuse me, please" said the pile of rags politely, picking itself up and assembling itself into a vaguely human shape. "I seem to have tripped."
"Mr Lundy?" I asked, surprised.
"Ah, yes," said the pile, turning to face me. Sticking out of an assemblage of clothing was a ropey neck like a snapping turtle's, supporting a bald and shiny skull beneath a crumpled fedora. The face was a starburst of wrinkles radiating from two sharp dark eyes. Within the wrinkles nestled a bulbous nose and a wide, toothless mouth.
I stared at the man. What extremity had driven him to such an existence? According to my notes, he was close to two hundred years old, a freakish span. I was here to discover his motives, and how he had achieved this extended existence.
"Please, have a seat," I said, rising respectfully. "Would you like some coffee?"
"Ah, no," said the wizened ancient. "I believe I will have a glass of water."
I placed our orders with a curious barista and settled back at the table to converse. To my frustration, I felt awkward. My smoothly planned questions scattered in my mind.
The old man merely sipped at his modest beverage serenely, watching passers-by dreamily out the window.
I gathered myself and cleared my throat. "Mr. Lundy," I began, "You're the world's oldest living man. What--"
"Just a moment," said the ancient, consulting an obsolete wristwatch. "I have a one-thirty." Without further ado he hobbled hastily out the door. I watched in surprise through the window as he hobbled to the sidewalk and shoved a young woman gently about two feet to the left, taking her place. A bird shit copiously upon his head. Seeming satisfied, he turned around and headed back in.
He took his seat again gingerly, wiping his bespattered brow with a voluminous pocket handkerchief. "There," he said. "My apologies. I have a busy schedule, as you can see."
I stared at the man. "Schedule?" I asked, gaping.
"Oh yes," he nodded, beady eyes a-twinkle. "You meant to ask me, I'm sure, how I managed to attain such an age."
"Well. Yes," I admitted.
"It's very simple," the old man said. "If you give up all your good luck, you can live for a century of more. But I, my boy, am one hundred and ninety-six. Mere abstention from luck could never bestow such a bounty of years."
"Yes, I know," I encouraged. "The whole world is mystified."
"One-forty already? Just a moment," said the old man, with a glance at the watch, before leaving his seat again. He sauntered into the kitchen this time. There was a pause, a screech, and another pause. The old man returned with a bandaged finger.
"What's this all about?" I asked in bewilderment, looking at the bandage.
"The gentleman in the kitchen," the ancient explained, "was due to burn his finger rather badly at one-forty-one p.m. today."
"So?" I demanded, still confused.
"So I merely took him aside and burned my own finger instead," the old man smiled. "I take on the misfortunes of others, in exchange for extra time."
I gaped at him. "Aren't you miserable?" I asked, thinking of the bird shit.
"Misery is a state of mind," the old man said airily.
"But your finger! Doesn't it hurt?"
"All life is suffering," the old man said. He smiled. "My goal was always to gain Wisdom. For that, one needs both time and suffering. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm due to be hit by a taxi at two." He stood creakily, tipped his hat, and left me sitting there astonished. | Most of us lived to a good age of 50. Our life force spent wisely on fortune and luck. I’ve never gone without food, I’ve always been able to find work, and have only been sick a few times in my life. I won a cruise for my wife and I, and even won the lottery once! My kid was well-behaved, got in to the best charter school, and married a nice young man. I would say I’d spent my life force nicely. No struggling, just lots of fun and prosperity. Now, at the middle age of 30, I wanted more from life. I could guesstimate that at this rate I probably had about 10 years. It didn’t seem long enough. I’d heard rumors about a man, ancient and decrepit, roaming the streets.
So here I was on a Thursday afternoon, just walking the streets looking for him. He must have some sort of secret! A croaky voice whispered out behind me, “Sit down already. I know what you want me to tell you and you’re about to be disappointed.”
I stumbled back and gaped. This man. His skin was sagging and his teeth were greying and crooked. He stooped and shuffled towards me. Thin, grey hair lay atop his head. The most catching of all though was his smile that reached his eyes. There was a joy there that I had never known. How could he possibly say I would be disappointed?! I wanted that!
“Please tell me-!” I started to cry. He waved his hand about and cut me off, “BAH! There’s no stupid secret. You aren’t the first fortunist to track me down. You wanna know how I lived so long and if I’ve ever been happy, and how I ended up looking like this and living in the streets. All I’m gonna tell you is that you can’t know true happiness and joy, until you’ve experienced sorrow and pain. Try that and come back to me!” He shuffled off and all I could do was stare at his back as he left. He was so slow. I wanted to reach out and help but I could only sit there and think. I had a feeling he wouldn’t have let me help him even if I tried.
The encounter was all I could think about all day. How old was he? 70?! Or even 80!! How could sorrow make you happy? That was ridiculous! But I couldn’t get it out of my mind. I knew what he really meant. He wanted me to stop using my fortune. I had to be crazy but I wanted to try it. It took awhile for my wife to notice, but it wasn’t that hard to when fortune stopped coming. Our car broke down, something that had never happened before. Gray hairs started to pop up on my head. I stubbed my toe so many times on the dumb couch corner. The dinner burned. And then we fought.
We’d never fought before, but boy was she mad. She kept wondering why I was bringing this misfortune upon her. She thought I was being ridiculous and that this had to be a phase. And yet I couldn’t give it up. I felt different, like before I was stuck and now I could finally make progress! She didn’t understand. I begged her to try and she took some calming breaths. When she agreed to at least try, I took her in my arms and looked her in the eyes. I felt something in our relationship I hadn’t really felt before. It was the start of a sort of closeness we could never have had with such an easy life.
It took many years but I know my wife agrees with me now. We rarely use our fortune and everyone around us thinks we’re crazy, but we know the truth.
I always wondered what happened to that old man. Despite searching, I never saw him again. I wonder how many people he was able to help, or if anyone even took his advice at all besides me. I wonder if he’s finally gone and if I’ll ever be that old or if I’d already used up a good chunk of my life force. He was right though. I have been disappointed, many, many times. But I now know what he didn’t say. The satisfaction and joy I’ve experienced outweighs any pain and disappointment I could have ever felt. I can only hope that I’ll be brave enough to share the truth like he did for me. | |
[WP] You are immortal and your best friend reicanrantes, even if it takes time for them to remember the past lives. In away or the other, you two are always together | "Okay, Lyna, you'd better sit down. I'm not even going to try to explain. I'm going to let the video catch you up."
The room is a eclectic. I kept the Victorian wardrobe from when she was Althea and the swords we used in the Middle Ages when he was Sir Wilfred. The dish full of chocolates is from the Zhou Dynasty when he was Fa Song. Keeping these relics around seem to help my best friend recover memories faster. Her latest incarnation, Lyna, is now sitting on the couch from the 50's when he was Larry looking at the TV we played Mario Kart on in the 90's when she was Jennifer.
Jennifer and I made a video in 2000 a few years before she died in a car wreck. It explains my immortality, her reincarnation, our history. All the stuff I'm tired of explaining every time she reincarnates.
So now 19-year-old Lyna is sitting in my current apartment. I found her in Senior English class last year. The internet sped up my search considerably. My friend's had lifetimes where it took decades for us to connect but this time, 18 years. Unfortunately immortality didn't come with any sort of ability to super knowledge, so serendipity, trial and error, and centuries to developing search strategies is all I can rely on.
Loneliness is a bitch, an hour alone for me feels like an hour alone for everybody else, so finding my friend is critical to my emotional well-being.
Lyna watches the video in silence. When it's over she looks up at me "I don't want to believe it but I sort of do."
"Does anything in this room look familiar?"
"Vaguely, yes. I thought I was experiencing a kind of Deja Vu but okay. Yes. This sofa. Maybe the lamp."
The lamp is from the 1920's. He was Samuel. It sat in his parents' living room until they were taken to Dachau. I retrieved it and managed to keep it intact. I wasn't able to do the same for Samuel. Time is still linear for me. I don't know the future anymore than mortal people do. None of us thought it would get so bad so fast.
"I felt like Jennifer was saying what I would have said in the video." Lyna interrupts my mental flashback. I return my focus to her. This time is precious.
She may be reincarnated but each incarnation is a new and unique incarnation of my old friend. I've spent the last year discovering who Lyna is. All this time I've let her think of me as her millennial peer. It's time for some self-revelation. I need to be known.
"I feel like I am living a combination of Groundhog Day and 50 First Dates. I've seen a lot but that doesn't make me that smart. This is one of the first times I've done college. What I do really sort of depends on my friend - on you - and who you end up being. Relationship matters most to me."
"That's a lot of responsibility for me."
"No I get that. Boundaries. Definitely. I'm not here to get in the way. Just let me be part of your life. I know you're dating Ryan. I just want to be your friend."
"No, I felt a connection with you from day one. This," she points at the TV, "explains so much. I love that you will always be in my life. My parents love you, by the way. This explains why you are so great with old people."
"Hey! I'm old people."
"But not. I don't see how that works."
"I look mid-teens to early thirties depending on what I do with my hair and clothes, but my brain fires like somebody that age. I have knowledge and experience but don't process exactly the way a middle aged or elderly person would. And that kind of sucks. You won't remember but you've been a grandparent several times. As life expectancies got longer I quit trying the marriage and kid thing. It was just too painful. I barely remember having parents or siblings. Your parents are remarkably accepting and kind by the way - trust me I know!"
"Maybe we can start some kind of a business together."
"I've done that before. In the 1800's, but still."
"And we can use make-up to age you a little bit when the time comes. Or surgery. Although finding a plastic surgeon who will put in age lines might take some explaining. We'll think of something. We always have."
I smile. I'm feeling really good about this time around. | They buried her at the cemetery by the windmills. Next to her grave was the grave of a ferret. And next to that, a grave of a fox. Looking further down, more gray gravestones, each with varying degrees of stain and weathering, stood erect atop the grassy fields. Dogs, goldfish, a falcon, a frog. Beloved Mavis, the graves all read. And that she was—beloved.
The ceremony was done in solitude. I placed a small bottle on her newest grave because she'd enjoyed knocking things off their perch during her last cycle. The small bottle was a token to remember this cycle by; not for her, but for me; a reminder of her cursed immortality that she was never upset over.
I was jolted out of my thoughts when a wet nose found its way to my palm. A sniff. I looked down and she was here. She’d come with an offering: a white dandelion, which she placed in my palm.
Behind us, the windmills churned as the wind picked up. A warm breeze accepted the offering from my hand and left behind the seeds of a fresh promise to follow in its wake.
What to do? she asked. Play Fetch. With me?
I nodded and we left without looking back. | |
[WP] A near-death experience is just that, an experience where you are near Death himself. In a coma following a car accident, you see Death staring right at you. "I can't take your soul right away so you've got a choice. Take over for me for the weekend and you'll wake up. Refuse and you die. | Somebody, he couldn't remember who, told him that death was a concept unique to humanity. People are aware of time passing and know that, eventually, their time will run out. Dogs, on the other hand, don't have that awareness. It made sense at the time but laying on his hospital bed, locked in his body with nothing but the cold stare of death to keep him company changed his views a bit.
People came and went but they weren't real. Their touches were insubstantial and their words were echoes of an echo spoken far off. Death was real though. He couldn't see it, he couldn't open his eyes to look at it and for that, he did feel a faint relief. It was there, though, and it was looking at him. He drifted in and out of consciousness, dimly aware that time was passing, but Death never left.
After a cold eternity in his prison, he heard its voice. He didn't know what he expected but it was warm and rich, deep in a way that surprised him. "You're going to survive," it said, "You won't wake though. Too much damage. Your doctors don't have the tools needed to fix what's broken."
Silence came again and he felt Death moving around the room. He couldn't focus on it though, as its words sank in. This wasn't a life. This was a halfway point to hell. Unable to move or talk to the people that came to him. Unable to feel their hands or hear their voices. He couldn't even respond to Death, his words caught in his throat as his body failed to respond to him.
"You have a choice now," Death said, now closer to him, "You can die. Unfortunate, to be sure, but a better alternative to this." A hand of ice settled over his. It was soft, un-calloused, and far more human than he expected. "Alternatively, you can do me a favor. In return for your time, I'll grant you what remains of yours. Fix what is broken and allow you to wake."
Hope sprung up in his chest. Death was better than this, he'd decided that right way as Death made the offer.
Life though, even a chance at it, was worth whatever was required of him. He'd give everything he had and more to be able to breathe with his lungs or even flex his fingers.
"Good," Death said, its hand moving from his hand to his chest. The icy cold lingered on his hand and sunk through the thin gown the hospital had put on him freezing him to his core. "Very good. Three days you'll act as my hand. Your choices will be mine, your will an extension of my own."
Its hands sunk into his chest suddenly, dipping past the skin before it ripped up. The world shifted then and he found himself in control again, his limbs responding to his commands and his eyes shooting open. The first thing he saw was himself, lying in the hospital bed, tubes shoved down his throat and needles in his arm. It was a poor sight, as he noted the mesh that covered a part of his head and the cuts that littered his face and neck.
He felt Death move again, and whipped about, finding it just behind him. His heart hammered down, its beat trying to find a steady rhythm as he found Death to be another man. Dark skin and a shaved head, a nice black cardigan over a white shirt, and dark slacks. He looked older, well into his fifties.
Death offered a hand, and he noted the ring on his middle finger. The metal seemed to streak as the light caught in and the sight of it drew him in, "We have a deal?"
He broke away from the ring at that, looking at the personification of Death again at the question. Of course, yes. He wanted to live. He reached out with more confidence than he felt and took Death's hand, "Yes. We have a deal."
Death smiled, "Good." He brought his other hand up, clapping it over their hands and he felt something heavy settle in his chest. "For the next three days you, Adam Bàs, will act as Death." His words were heavy and they carried with them a finality that accompanied the force that spread from his chest.
Suddenly he felt a pull from inside himself. He tried to ignore it, waving it off as one of the many things he couldn't hope to understand about this situation. Instead, he asked the most pressing question on his mind, "What do you want me to do?"
"That feeling, deep inside you," Death said, releasing his hand then. Adam noticed the ring that was now on his middle finger but focused on what Death was saying instead of interrupting to ask more questions, "Like you're caught on a fishing line. Follow it and do the job they ask of you."
Adam furrowed his brow at that and quickly put the pieces together in his head, "You're being summoned?"
Death shook his head, "No," he reached up and poked Adam in the chest, and the feeling of being pulled doubled, "You are." | "I'll accept." A day as Hades, the grim reaper, Hell who could refuse? He passed me two items a small danger and a cloak. "The dagger can transform into any weapon,and the clock makes you appear as there idea of death.
Remember yor job is not just collecting their soul but crossing them to the next life." As he said this his appearance changed into an old man wearing bifocals. His tweed jacket covered a plain maroon shirt tucked into dress pants and dress shoes.
I fit the cloak over my shoulders and stuck the dagger in a pouch by my side. I looked like a hunter version of red ridding hood. As I finished I dissappeared to collect my first soul. | |
[WP]"I told you it's an artifact of incredible might and power and THAT'S where you decide to hide it?!" | Arko shook the small white and red Igloo cooler, and Edris winced as she heard the contents jumble about inside. A small dust devil kicked up outside of the abandoned building, sand and small pebbles rasping against the glass windows.
"Stop! Stop it!" Edris held up her hands. "I told you it's an artifact of incredible might and power, and *that's* where you decide to hide it?"
Arko shrugged. "My backpack was full."
"Your backpack was-" she pinched the bridge of her nose and sucked in a deep breath before slowly letting it hiss through her teeth. "It isn't something you keep in your backpack, Arko. It's definitely not something you keep in an damned *cooler*!"
Arko blinked slowly for several moments, but made no move to rectify the situation.
"Give me that." Edris hastily snatched the cooler out of her partner's hand and swiveled the top open. "Thank all the gods - it looks no worse for wear. Absolutely no thanks to you."
Arko leaned forward and glanced inside. "Yeah, it looks good. What does it do, anyway?"
"What does it do? *What does it do*?!" Edris pulled the thin object out reverently and held it in the air. "With this, we can unite the people. We can give them hope. We can help them rise up and realize they've nothing to lose but their chains. We can finally be free!"
Arko squinted and moved his lips, trying to sound out the strange glyphs scrawled across the ancient paper envelope. Edris watched and sighed. She turned it around so that the text on the large, flat, square artifact was right-side up. Afraid of causing any unforeseen destruction to the delicate paper with the grime on her hands, she held it aloft with nothing but her fingertips. She in turn squinted and began to interpret the words with some confidence, her studies on the subject of old written word being a point of pride.
"Linkin Park - One Step Closer." | I yelled “LOOK THERE IS NOTHING WRONG WITH PUTTING IT IN MY LOCKER, DO YOU KNOW WHAT WILL HAPPEN IF I KEEP IT AT HOME.”
He yelled back “YOUR RICH CANT YOU JUST LIKE PUT IT IN A VAULT OR SOMETHING?”
“ALL OF OUR VAULTS ARE FULL OF STUFF THAT BELONG TO MY FAMILY , IF THEY SEE IT THEY’LL ASK QUESTIONS, I CANT KEEP IT AT HOME OR ONE OF THE MAIDS MIGHT FIND IT AND ASK QUESTIONS, I CANT STORE IT IN ONE OF OUR FACILITIES OR SOMEONE MIGHT ASK QUESTIONS, TO MANY PEOPLE WILL ASK QUESTIONS.”
Your probably confused let me explain, about a week ago I was told by some magical force that I was “worthy.” I come from a wealthy background, but I never took advantage of it, most of my money went to charities, and I study hard, and do a lot of community service thing like that. I won’t deny I’m a pretty good person, but I didn’t think I was good enough for magic. Whatever magical deity that saw me as “worthy” gifted me a a draw string back full of magical gems that will give me different powers, as well as an assistant to help me along the way, a pixie named Argus. He’s very helpful, smart, can turn into a human form, and APPARENTLY has some very strong opinions on my storage choices.
“Don’t worry everyone knows that I’m rich, no one has the guts to steal from me, there all afraid I might sue them.” He gives me an look that’s a mix of tired and disappointed, he sighs, “look you can keep them in there for now but can like carry them on you or something, if you lose those and they get in the wrong hand, not only will your world be in serious danger, I will be in SO MUCH TROUBLE”. “All right fine” I grab the bag and put in my sweater pocket, I’ll hold on the them for now. | |
[WP]"I told you it's an artifact of incredible might and power and THAT'S where you decide to hide it?!" | It took Benjamin a couple of tries before he could frame a coherent sentence.
“I told you it was an artifact of incredible might and power and THAT’S where you hide it?”
Jim shrugged. “Come on, Ben, never read Poe? Hide in plain sight!”
Deep breaths. Deep breaths, count to ten. You can’t shoot this lunatic yet, you still need him and his team.
“So you took something that could vaporize a whole freaking planet, stuck it in a dog collar, and put it on a blasted beagle?”
“On my beagle!” Jonathan, who had been too dumbstruck to talk till now (a reasonably rare occurrence) burst out. Jim grinned, more delighted than anything at the reactions of his teammates.
“Hey, it looked good on him!”
“Maybe we should have him retake that psych screening” Katherine suggested.
Benjamin snorted.
“I’m pretty sure he somehow hacked it the first time round. No way this guy is sane.”
Jim, leaning back in his chair, began to sing under his breath “You maybe right, I maybe crazy…But it just might be a lunatic that you are looking for…”
Katherine kicked his chair to shut him up.
“Well, it worked.” William pointed out. “The raiders never gave the puppy a second look.”
“Thank you!” Jim gave him a thumbs-up.
Katherine rolled her eyes. For heaven’s sake, why did she invariably have to be the only grown up in the room?
“Alright. The point is, we’ve still got the Jewel of Khorros, the Alliance has conducted the search and is sure we don’t have it, and yes, Jon, your pet is fine – it isn’t like the Jewel is radioactive or anything. So…why don’t we just consider this settled for the moment and plan our next step?”
“He still has to take a psych scan” Jonathan declared.
Jim, watching gleefully, shrugged.
“Sure, why not?”
“And everyone in this room has to swear to secrecy that we put the sacred crown jewel of the Volantheans on a dog collar, or we’ll be starting another inter galactic war.” | I yelled “LOOK THERE IS NOTHING WRONG WITH PUTTING IT IN MY LOCKER, DO YOU KNOW WHAT WILL HAPPEN IF I KEEP IT AT HOME.”
He yelled back “YOUR RICH CANT YOU JUST LIKE PUT IT IN A VAULT OR SOMETHING?”
“ALL OF OUR VAULTS ARE FULL OF STUFF THAT BELONG TO MY FAMILY , IF THEY SEE IT THEY’LL ASK QUESTIONS, I CANT KEEP IT AT HOME OR ONE OF THE MAIDS MIGHT FIND IT AND ASK QUESTIONS, I CANT STORE IT IN ONE OF OUR FACILITIES OR SOMEONE MIGHT ASK QUESTIONS, TO MANY PEOPLE WILL ASK QUESTIONS.”
Your probably confused let me explain, about a week ago I was told by some magical force that I was “worthy.” I come from a wealthy background, but I never took advantage of it, most of my money went to charities, and I study hard, and do a lot of community service thing like that. I won’t deny I’m a pretty good person, but I didn’t think I was good enough for magic. Whatever magical deity that saw me as “worthy” gifted me a a draw string back full of magical gems that will give me different powers, as well as an assistant to help me along the way, a pixie named Argus. He’s very helpful, smart, can turn into a human form, and APPARENTLY has some very strong opinions on my storage choices.
“Don’t worry everyone knows that I’m rich, no one has the guts to steal from me, there all afraid I might sue them.” He gives me an look that’s a mix of tired and disappointed, he sighs, “look you can keep them in there for now but can like carry them on you or something, if you lose those and they get in the wrong hand, not only will your world be in serious danger, I will be in SO MUCH TROUBLE”. “All right fine” I grab the bag and put in my sweater pocket, I’ll hold on the them for now. | |
[WP]"I told you it's an artifact of incredible might and power and THAT'S where you decide to hide it?!" | It took Benjamin a couple of tries before he could frame a coherent sentence.
“I told you it was an artifact of incredible might and power and THAT’S where you hide it?”
Jim shrugged. “Come on, Ben, never read Poe? Hide in plain sight!”
Deep breaths. Deep breaths, count to ten. You can’t shoot this lunatic yet, you still need him and his team.
“So you took something that could vaporize a whole freaking planet, stuck it in a dog collar, and put it on a blasted beagle?”
“On my beagle!” Jonathan, who had been too dumbstruck to talk till now (a reasonably rare occurrence) burst out. Jim grinned, more delighted than anything at the reactions of his teammates.
“Hey, it looked good on him!”
“Maybe we should have him retake that psych screening” Katherine suggested.
Benjamin snorted.
“I’m pretty sure he somehow hacked it the first time round. No way this guy is sane.”
Jim, leaning back in his chair, began to sing under his breath “You maybe right, I maybe crazy…But it just might be a lunatic that you are looking for…”
Katherine kicked his chair to shut him up.
“Well, it worked.” William pointed out. “The raiders never gave the puppy a second look.”
“Thank you!” Jim gave him a thumbs-up.
Katherine rolled her eyes. For heaven’s sake, why did she invariably have to be the only grown up in the room?
“Alright. The point is, we’ve still got the Jewel of Khorros, the Alliance has conducted the search and is sure we don’t have it, and yes, Jon, your pet is fine – it isn’t like the Jewel is radioactive or anything. So…why don’t we just consider this settled for the moment and plan our next step?”
“He still has to take a psych scan” Jonathan declared.
Jim, watching gleefully, shrugged.
“Sure, why not?”
“And everyone in this room has to swear to secrecy that we put the sacred crown jewel of the Volantheans on a dog collar, or we’ll be starting another inter galactic war.” | Arko shook the small white and red Igloo cooler, and Edris winced as she heard the contents jumble about inside. A small dust devil kicked up outside of the abandoned building, sand and small pebbles rasping against the glass windows.
"Stop! Stop it!" Edris held up her hands. "I told you it's an artifact of incredible might and power, and *that's* where you decide to hide it?"
Arko shrugged. "My backpack was full."
"Your backpack was-" she pinched the bridge of her nose and sucked in a deep breath before slowly letting it hiss through her teeth. "It isn't something you keep in your backpack, Arko. It's definitely not something you keep in an damned *cooler*!"
Arko blinked slowly for several moments, but made no move to rectify the situation.
"Give me that." Edris hastily snatched the cooler out of her partner's hand and swiveled the top open. "Thank all the gods - it looks no worse for wear. Absolutely no thanks to you."
Arko leaned forward and glanced inside. "Yeah, it looks good. What does it do, anyway?"
"What does it do? *What does it do*?!" Edris pulled the thin object out reverently and held it in the air. "With this, we can unite the people. We can give them hope. We can help them rise up and realize they've nothing to lose but their chains. We can finally be free!"
Arko squinted and moved his lips, trying to sound out the strange glyphs scrawled across the ancient paper envelope. Edris watched and sighed. She turned it around so that the text on the large, flat, square artifact was right-side up. Afraid of causing any unforeseen destruction to the delicate paper with the grime on her hands, she held it aloft with nothing but her fingertips. She in turn squinted and began to interpret the words with some confidence, her studies on the subject of old written word being a point of pride.
"Linkin Park - One Step Closer." | |
[WP] You meet the Demon King to fight him, however, you see that he’s absolutely nothing like what people describe him. Instead of a hulking monstrosity of pure evil, he’s a mild mannered man with a three sons, ages 25, 20, and 15, and two grandkids. He’s real sick of the heroes trying to fight him. | The templar couldn't contain his curiosity and proceeded to ask as many questions as he could while eating the greatest piece of bread that he had in his entire life.
"I don't understand, the bishop told me that you were almost 20 feet tall. He showed me a corpse of a burned soldier. Even his armor seemed to be deformed by the heat. You look like an ordinary man, not older than my dad. The food is very good by the way."
"Well, I saw the creation of the universe by the side of God himself. I don't think any human ability would be hard for me to perfect. This is not my true appearance though, the poor man got too close. But you were lucky for I am just a principality, the mere presence of a seraphim could wipe out this whole forest with his true form."
"So it is true that you were all angels. I thought you were a cherubim though."
"Oh no, you are making a mistake. I'm not Lucifer. I used to be called Raguel before the rebellion. "
"So you are not the king of hell, I see."
"It's not that simple. As the only rebel angel of the first triad, he could really exert his power over someone like me. But his incarceration is the only God's overkill in my humble opinion. Even time is distorted around him, he can literally do nothing. It's much worse than complete destruction of the soul. So Hell was splited between us, it's a vast place, some of it is even vacant despite the almost 800 billion people there. Even the weakest angel is much more powerful than the strongest demon so we became their kings"
"And why did you get out?"
"Do you want to go to hell, knight..."
"Jonathan, sir"
"... Jonathan. Do you want?"
"No, of course not"
"Me neither, there's not a single angel that doesn't regret following that fool cherubim."
"I see, so why this world? Why don't you beg God for pardon?"
"Angels are not like humans. We can't talk to God whenever we want, that's why I came here and gave up my true form and all my powers almost 30 years ago. To become as human as possible. To be able to talk to my father again and get a second judge. My only regret was not being able to do so immediately for my mere presence was enough to obliterate that squad."
"So you don't have any power anymore? How wasn't all those people not able to kill you? Isn't your body the one of an old man right now?"
"Young man, I may be physically weak now, but you do overestimate your ability. Are you alive for what? 35 years? How much have you really trained? Do you think it is even comparable to someone older than creation itself? Don't make me laugh. None was killed as you probably know. If you don't consider the first accident of course"
"I guess I couldn't defeat you either. I also don't think it is right to attack a sinner that is chasing forgiveness. But I need something to tell the priests of my order. I would be excommunicated directly to a neighbor of yours if I told them that we became friends."
"I am old, as you can see. Give me two more decades and I won't be a problem anymore. Tell them that I died and take one of my sons as a squire to confirm the story. Someone will let you know when this body collapse. Wish me luck with my superior too. It was a pleasure to meet you" | The Demon King's fortress was not at all what Thomas expected. There were no walls, for starters. No moat full of lava, no twisted steel spires. In fact, it seemed to mostly just be windmills and gardens - the most incredible, lush, verdant gardens he had ever seen. There was at least one squat stone structure belching black smoke into the sky however, so that seemed promising.
​
"What do you think, Ford? Trap?"
​
Ford, his semi-faithful warhorse, was otherwise occupied with completely denuding a nearby apple tree of all its low-hanging fruit.
​
Thomas sighed, tugging gently on the reins. "Come on, knock it off. They're probably... I dunno, evil or... poisoned or something."
​
Ford was having one of those *obstinate* moments where Thomas simply ceased to exist. Thomas pulled on the reins a little harder, which resulted only in Ford burying his head in the foliage and chewing even louder, if such a thing were possible.
​
"I swear to the Gods, I'm buying spurs when we get back to town."
​
Ford made a deep, un-horselike rumbling sound.
​
"Okay, fine. Evil apples probably aren't a thing. But poisoned ones definitely are, they're in all the stories. And I am *not* mucking out the stables if you get the screaming fireshits again.”
​
*Munch munch munch*.
​
Thomas threw up his hands, defeated. He didn’t know why he bothered, he never won these arguments.
​
“Whatever. You’re gonna miss me if I die in there all alone.”
​
*MUNCH MUNCH MUNCH.*
​
“Lardass,” Thomas grumbled, and proceeded down the neat, flower-lined path very much on foot.
​
​
\*\*\* To be continued \*\*\* | |
[WP] Growing up as the only unenhanced kid on the colony was hard. Your slower, your weaker, and you get sick more easily than other kids. One day you discover a legacy meant only for people like you that totally reverses your position with the other kids. | It was an unfair, unforgiving, hopeless world for people born like Jimp.
Despite his unordinary name, his birth was even more so. He was born magicless in a world teeming with aura.
There were the strong and the magic.
The strong were a magicless tribe, eating away at the scraps that the magic gave. Even the sun forbade them to live, burning their skin if they even so dared to set foot from underneath shade.
Jimp was different. His mother and father were both magic users.
Yet, the day he basked in sunlight for the first time, rashes popped up over his body, a symbol appearing on his forehead, and his skin steaming as his parents hurriedly took him back into the hospital he was birthed in.
His father worriedly held his son in hand, begging the doctors to help. They ignored his pleading, casting away the baby who should've never been born with sadness befalling their despondent, scrutinizing, dead eyes.
Later that same day, his father took his life, not wanting to live with the anguish of having had a magicless son. It was taboo, a disgusting sight. Those who were magicless wore marks upon their heads. A red cross with eight sides, one for each god that had forsaken them.
With her husband gone, Jimp's mother wrapped him in a black blanket so that he would not burn, traveling to a faraway city that catered to those lacking magic. A place she could live with her son without discrimination.
She'd been wrong.
When she arrived, she was overjoyed. It was an arduous journey. Not from the distance she had to tread, or from the life she had to leave behind. It was the crying. Jimp cried every day, seemingly begging to be unwrapped from his bundle, hoping that the sun would devour him whole. His muffled whimpers were nearly unbearable, causing her to hide under trees along the path to the city so that Jimp would stop burning.
In a world so conniving, even a baby had no right to witness sunlight. She wept, her tears settling Jimp's uncontrollable rashes until the day they'd finally arrived in the town of darkness.
It was filthy, absolutely repugnant. Still, she had no choice. She had to bear through any adversity.
A huge piece of rubble sat above the town unsteadily, blocking the sunlight from all angles. It was pitch-black, darker than night, nighter than dark.
“By the Goddesses grace, give chase to the dark!”
She chanted the incantation, holding her right hand into the air, snapping her fingers as light exuded from her palm.
On her first night, or was it day? She couldn't discern. She looked for a place to stay, hoping to settle down peacefully. The houses were shabby and broken down, unbefitting even a dog.
The streets were littered with garbage, burning fire occupying the dumpsters giving light to the shady city. Shadows stretched upon the taller buildings, long human-like figures plagued it, taking the form of demonic beasts, claws protruding onto the cluttered, cracked building, embedding fear into her heart with a shiver as the shadows moved around endlessly, the nearby fires dying out.
Whispers echoed throughout the hollow town without a single person in sight. She ignored the murmurs, continuing down the empty alleyway as she lifted the rags from Jimp's face, taking in his beauty as she hugged his sleeping body. She held the light over his face. It gleamed brilliantly, reflecting off of his pale skin.
She began speaking to Jimp, whispering self-affirmations to the both of them, "We'll be okay now... we'll be okay--"
A burly-looking man interrupts, spitting to the ground with disdain as he cracked his knuckles, an unsettling grinning frown sitting upon his face as others crept out from nearby alleyways.
"We’ll be okay?” He laughs, his thunderous voice bellowing with others following suit as they surrounded the woman and her son, “I guess that’ll be true if you hand over everything you’ve got.”
“O-okay…” Jimp’s mother spoke nervously as her legs and arms rattled, taking off her purple amulet that gleamed with a purple hue as her glowing hand continuously shined.
“Magic?” He questioned, jeering at her as he drew a dagger, edging toward her with the serrated point of the knife at her neck.
“What do you want?” She spoke shakily, breathing heavily, taking in all repugnance of the town with a huff from her nose as he edged the knife deeper, causing blood to seep from her slit neck.
“People like you don’t belong here!” He shouted in otherworldly fury, pulling his dagger away from her neck, putting it to her eyes edge first as he raged on.
“This blood! This blood is the very reason we have to live in the shadows!” He spoke, putting his massive forearms to her thin neck, pushing her toward a nearby building, causing it to rumble from the sheer force of the impact.
Stones fell from the top of the shattered structure, narrowly missing the two of them as he rabidly choked her out, “For what reason have you come to our town?! If I don’t like your answer, you’re dead!” He roared, unrivaled rage strewn across his vindictive face as the torch he held in his hand nearly cooked her distraught face.
“M-My son…” She coughed out as she eyed the bundled blanket in her hands.
He pulled back from her neck, dropping his knife to the ground as he snatched Jimp away from her grasp.
“Why did you bring him here!” He shouted in her face, spit flying over her body as she winced her eyes.
“I-I wanted to live here with him!”
“Live here?” He questioned, holding Jimp tightly, causing him to cry aloud as he awoke.
“Why would a magic user intrude upon our home! You have all the world, bound by nothing! Why here!?” He raged on, pulling Jimp from the blanket wrapped around him, noticing the mark that sat upon his temple as he continuously cried, tears leaking from his minuscule, flushed-red, scrunched up that held an undying frown face. |
I stared at the sleek metal, the beeping and whirring calling to me. The cogs stirred, clicking like a hypnotic trance, filling the quiet of the colony's old-tech room. Why did it call to me? A dull thud resonated to my left, pulling my eyes and my attention. Harrison, the chief engineer, stood there, foot against the ageless plate of metal. The square face for a square man. "Can't touch it, No-EL." He grinned at me, keeping his boot on it. He wasn't a mean man, but he lived by boxes and rules, never straying. Not even for an outlier like me.
I swallowed back my deadened frustration. Everyone called me No-EL. I wasn't my real name, but that had died with my parents... leaving me with nothing—no enhancement lineage or any way to mobilize. A No-EL was what they all called me now. I sighed, backing away from the snoring machine, eyeing the panels. It beckoned to me, calling out in a melody, waiting for my harmony. Teeth gritted themselves, and fists clenched. Why did I know what it wanted? Why did I hear it? "I know, Chief." Why did it sound lonely? "You know how the other Enhancers get..." Why did it sound lonely? "I just wanted to take my lunch break," I waved my hand at the machine, "here."
Harrison nodded, slow and methodical like his own neck needed oiling. "I can understand that." He nodded quicker. "But just because you're here doesn't mean you can touch O-tech." He placed his hands on his hips, sighing. "Don't want it to break because you touched it." He failed at muttering the words, thinking my hearing too bad.
I bit back my anger; everyone thought I didn't hear them, or I didn't see them, or I didn't think fast enough—or respond fast enough. But I was enough. My lips hid a snarl. I had to be enough. My face smoothed, becoming sleek like the lonely metal. "I won't touch it. I promise." I meant to break it, like how this colony tried to break me each and every day, telling me I was less; kids my own age saying I was a worthless No-EL. If their parents had died like mine, there would be no enhancement lineage for them.
"You're sure you're okay?" Harrison asked, eyeing me again. Before I answered, he shook his head and sighed. Silence stretched between us. He looked up at the lonely metal beast. Records said it was built in our image, made for some purpose we colonists do not know. Some guess it was to push back the void horde. Others said it broke the world, sending us into the void of space. All I knew was it called to me, those massive metal arms, older than old but shining without rust. Old metal, far beyond our understanding. So much lost in the quiet whirring of cogs.
"What do you think causes the clicking?" Harrison asked, not looking away from humanity's past and possibly it's future.
"I... I don't know," I whispered, watching Harrison. What did he want? What was he getting at? Why this a new prank on the station's only No-EL?"
Harrison sighed, taking his boot off the metal relic, resting it on the paneled gray sheets of iron that marched across the walkway. "Strange, ain't it?" He reached out, tapping a panel of the beast. "This thing here is older than us, but it's still clicking and going longer than anyone else on this station... the things this contraption must know..." His eyes walked up the giant's metallic skin, looking at the jagged sheet-steel head. "... why is it still ticking? I wonder?"
I shrugged, glad to be away from my peers, knowing they would ridicule me if they even saw me. I hoped none of them would find me, hiding away with the past. Who would spend time with a useless machine? Other than a useless girl. But the future found me.
Blaring klaxons rushed to meet red lights, blanketing a warning throughout the walkways, illuminating the metal giant next to me. He was massive but so lonely. If only...
"No-EL! No touching!" Harrison called out, rushing over to grab me, pulling my hand away from the sleek metal. I cried out, almost punching the man, but he didn't deserve it... Well, maybe, but Harrison was better than the rest of my peers. At least he treated me as human. He carried me along, his boots clacking with the staccato rhythm of alarms. What was happening? I went to cover my ears, almost smiling. Those hearing enhanced wouldn't enjoy this.
"What's going on?" I screamed-asked, still being carried by Harrison. Strengthancers never knew limits.
"Don't know," he gruffed out. Or maybe he did know his limits. More footsteps joined us, ringing through the hallway. But clicking gears held my mind. Why did I go back every time?
A quiet howl of grinding gears and clicking servos sounded, finding me in the screams of the world.
I wanted to go back to him. | |
Mainly, there is something after death, but religions are wrong about it. | [WP] As an atheist, you always believed that there was nothing after death. After your last breath, you discover that you were wrong, but that no one else was right about what's after either. | "It's dark" I think quietly to myself yet I hear the words as if I spoke them. "What happened, where am I?" I say out loud without my mouth moving. The sound of my voice; a booming echo; as if it cascaded across thousands of surfaces for miles. I recoil expecting my ears to ring with pain but they don't.
In fact I can't feel anything, it's as if my body isn't there at all. I try in vain to look or even feel around where I am to no avail. I think back to the last thing I remember. Pain, an excruciating pain over my entire body, a bright light, and then... I was here. Before the pain I can think of nothing, my memories draw a blank. I have feelings though, as if an echo of a memory is still present. Happiness, sorrow, loathing, love, and strongest of all fear.
The horrifying realization washes over me. "I'm dead" I think softly, the words quivering in my mind as if I haven't quite grasped the idea. "OH FUCK I'M DEAD" the words screaming out of me in a cacophony of my own horror and dread. I don't know how long I spent panicking while my thoughts screamed out into nothing.
I spent too long on this realization, and as I finally got ahold of myself I asked "If I'm dead then is this purgatory?", my own voice answering itself. In life I never believed in such things as an afterlife or purgatory. Even without the memories of my life, who I was in life remains who I am, rejecting the idea as quickly as it came. I suddenly feel a change though, it's hard to describe what the change was exactly.
I have not been able to feel a thing yet now I can feel that I am neither cold nor warm. It's a pleasant feeling and sets my mind at ease, "Feels like home" I say but this time without an echo. All at once I hear a low buzzing sound and the darkness begins to fade. As the darkness fades the buzzing becomes louder almost transposing into voices. I hear my laughter, words, sobs, and coughing. It sounds like a symphony, like all the voices of my life are parading around me in an orchestration.
I see it, my life, it passes by in mere moments but I have all the time in the world to take it all in. It's beautiful, every moment of my life harmonizing into who I am. Then the memories end, my death was not very climactic or heroic but it was my death non the less. The end of the story, of my life, "I could live in these memories forever, or I could start anew" I say as if reading from the thoughts of another.
What a choice to have, both are alluring, I wonder what I'll choose. | "I'm Jack" I sputter out to the woman who sits at the desk in front of me.
"Well Jack do you remember how you got here?"her smile is blinding and contrast her black hair which is bound into a pony tail with leather strips.
I start to answer no when it hits me the smell of burnt flesh and the pain of my skin peeling and cracking and falling off. I gag and feel sick yet my stomach doesn't twist.
"You're dead Jack! You died in a fire."
Tears flow from my eyes "Did it take"
She cuts me off "Your cat is alive as is the young lady you lived with. That however is no longer your concern"
"What do you mean I love them I need them"
You are dead that life for you is over you have two choices wander the afterlife and live with the memories of every life you have lived or return to a new life with no memory of your past lives. But first the tour"
As the woman approached the office door she tapped the wall and it turned into tiny balls of light that joined with her body. "First lesson your life energy can be used to create things just make sure you reabsorb it or you will run out and cease to exist"
My eyes widened at the sight of what could be best described as pure chaos a mostly dull white world filled with people doing all sorts of things a group of people sitting and playing video games while another group fight monster's that when slayed returns to another person who is floating above them. While another person is sitting in a comfy chair reading a book. With a fireplace.
Scenes like this played out as far as the eye could see in the sprawling emptiness above and the solid whiteness under my feet.
"Where is God?" I asked
The woman guiding me bursts out into laughter wiping tears from her eye's.
Her eyes focus on mine "None of them exist a few weirdo's claim they were Thor or Yahweh or Coyote but they are just like you and me"
I can feel the sadness I had fought all my life returning even in death apparently I couldn't escape it.
"Why don't you go back?" I asked.
She touched my hand and I felt my heart race and my body felt hot "because I refuse to live another life like this" in that moment I saw above me fire as the roof burned and the fire creeped towards me. I tried to move but I couldn't feel them. I looked down to see her legs and the huge double headed axe buried in my stomach. My ripped and bloody clothes laid strewn about. The smoke made caused me to choke and cough well my eyes couldn't see through the stinging tears.
Just as quickly as it had begun it was over and I caught her quickly wiping away her tears. As she cleared her throat and her mask returned. "So Jack what will it be?"
The end |
Mainly, there is something after death, but religions are wrong about it. | [WP] As an atheist, you always believed that there was nothing after death. After your last breath, you discover that you were wrong, but that no one else was right about what's after either. | Have you guys ever seen The Matrix? You know how Neil wakes up in that vat of red liquid when he disconnects and takes the red pill? Well the afterlife is sort of like that.
I've never been a believer in many things. All the world's religions never really appealed to me. All let's talk about how God loves you and all the creation stories from around the world and all the holy rolling... Well it's nice to see I've been right about one thing. They're all BS.
I woke up in a vat of green liquid. There were tubes all over my body. Wires were connected to my brain. Everything was eerily the same as the matrix. What was interesting though is that I was a white female but in "life" I was a hispanic male. I didn't have time to contemplate my new existence. I knew I was me, and I knew I had to get out of this vat.
It seemed like there was a detection system for this event. Several things floated over to where I was struggling to sit up. There were some kind of mechanical floaty robots as well as people on jetpacks. A robot immediately started the drain sequence on my that and all the people who came over started cutting the wires and the tubes to get me free. And as they were doing this I had time to look around.
There were possibly billions of other vats. Some were getting the same treatment I was. Still others have had people inside them. All of them did. What was interesting about them was some had growing humans inside. The one next to mine had a developing human torso with a fully developed adult head. I noticed my eyes were incredibly clear once I got all the muck out of them.
The people helping me were silent on everything except for one. She told me that everything would be explained in time. I didn't press.
The robots cradled me gently as they took me to a tram. This tram had a built-in shower and attendants washed me, dried me, and gave me some surprisingly comfortable army surplus looking shirts and pants. Apparently I would have time later to pick out other clothes but for now they should do until I had time to pick out ones I actually wanted. It was also about this time that I learned how long my hair was. It must have been about 8 ft long. It was straight and blonde, a color I've always liked. Nice.
The tram took us to a sort of terminal area. A man was standing by with scissors in case I wanted to get this mass cut off of the back of my head. All I did was not and he cut it down to my shoulders. He explained to me that I could get it cleaned up later and that I needed to move. Another tram was coming.
This terminal was incredibly busy. People were being ushered through at incredible rates. People of all shapes and sizes likely who spent their collective consciousnesses in different parts of the world and are also newly departed from said life just like me. I grew up in New York City so this terminal was a familiar sight, but to plenty of people that I took sight of, it was completely alien to them.
My guides brought me to a terminal desk. The strawberry blonde attendant looked bored but happy to see someone like me. It is here that I would be learning where to go next. I was instructed to place my hand on to a sensor. I guess depending on what it reads it will tell me where I'm going. No sooner had I placed my hand on this device a screen showed me a number. 2-A. Once this disappeared, the young lady printed me a card that looked like a bus pass. I took it, thanked her and left with my guides.
A man handing bags out gave me a backpack to stuff all of my extra stuff in which I was grateful for. I was still holding the other clothes I was given. Card in hand I made my way to the next part of the terminal. I showed the attendant at the door my card and he told me which way to go. My guides helped me get there. I'll be honest I'm not exactly sure where I'm being led to but I'm imagining it's where I'm going to be for the rest of eternity.
My guides noticed that I was thinking about this. They turned me and say "We are leading you to the place where you are going to spend eternity. It's a house. More will be explained later."
The 2-A train stares me in the face as soon as my guides stop talking. My guides push me on the train which is surprisingly empty. I show the attendant my card and he brings me to my seat, a private cabin towards the rear of the train. It looks like one of those Pullman cars from back in the day. The attendant says for me to keep the card as it will identify me should the need arise. The need of course did arise five minutes later. The train conductor scanned my card, smiled, and said "welcome aboard Mr. Hernandez. Or should I say 'miss'. Says here you have been given that body as an experiment. I'll give you this buzzer to the kitchen. You feel free to get to know yourself."
I am hungry so I press the button. No sooner did I press it an attendant knocks on my door to take my order. "What would you like, Miss Hernandez?"
"Two things: Philly cheese steak with gravy and chili with a large coca cola. And an explanation."
"What would you like to know?"
"What do the conductor mean when he said that I was part of an experiment?"
"Your file says you were an atheist. You didn't really think much about the afterlife. There are several other experiments going on that are being done on atheists. You simply are part of one of many. Your particular experiment is receiving an entirely different body from what you're used to. As to why atheists are being tested on these things is that they have no biases. They are the control group and the test group."
"This is all happening so fast. Thanks for letting me know."
"It's supposed to be fast, but now you can take time to relax. Your food will be out soon." With that I was left alone. A digital display on the wall states how much time is left in my journey. Three days, two hours, 1 minute. Wait, three *Days*?
Maybe I can see what else is on this train... No. Slow down, Hernandez. This is the afterlife. Things are spread out. Drink it in. I take a deep breath and... Smell my food. I turn around and it's there, steaming and ready to eat. Good. I'm famished.
The bathroom in my train car is fully fitted out. Shower, bath, toilet, sink... The works. This entire car is bigger than my apartment. I just wonder what my house is going to be. I hope it's nice like this train car.
...
So bored. I miss my NES. Contra sounds good right now. Two days and three hours left.
...
I slept for a good ten hours, and now I'm hungry again. Could go for a steak. But what if I need to pay for it? All of this?
A piece of paper slips beneath the door. "there's no money here. Do not worry. -The Management"
Creepy. Do they hear my thoughts? See me?
Another note: "we hear your thoughts. Even the lewd ones. We've been at this millions of years. We've literally seen it all. Don't worry about us. -The Management"
...
One day, two hours left. I've had so much steak.
...
Two hours. Time to clean myself. I'll clean the car as best I can too.
...
Five minutes. And done. I'm clean, car's clean. I might also... know a bit more about myself.
I scan my card as I leave and some attendants come to lead me. I'm led past buses and taxis to my limo. I sit, buckle in, and wait. My driver rolls the divider down. "your card. Scan it." I comply. "perfect. 11 Wendigo Avenue. You're in the rich-lands, newbie."
We pass by places of... Varying social status. My driver points out to me the kinds of people that live in them. In the shanties, immoral people and criminals. In the low-income housing, the rich. Suburbia, average people of no significance. High-income housing, working class and the poor. Gated mansions, experiments, people who made the ultimate sacrifice and the eternally humble. I was going to a mansion. | "I'm Jack" I sputter out to the woman who sits at the desk in front of me.
"Well Jack do you remember how you got here?"her smile is blinding and contrast her black hair which is bound into a pony tail with leather strips.
I start to answer no when it hits me the smell of burnt flesh and the pain of my skin peeling and cracking and falling off. I gag and feel sick yet my stomach doesn't twist.
"You're dead Jack! You died in a fire."
Tears flow from my eyes "Did it take"
She cuts me off "Your cat is alive as is the young lady you lived with. That however is no longer your concern"
"What do you mean I love them I need them"
You are dead that life for you is over you have two choices wander the afterlife and live with the memories of every life you have lived or return to a new life with no memory of your past lives. But first the tour"
As the woman approached the office door she tapped the wall and it turned into tiny balls of light that joined with her body. "First lesson your life energy can be used to create things just make sure you reabsorb it or you will run out and cease to exist"
My eyes widened at the sight of what could be best described as pure chaos a mostly dull white world filled with people doing all sorts of things a group of people sitting and playing video games while another group fight monster's that when slayed returns to another person who is floating above them. While another person is sitting in a comfy chair reading a book. With a fireplace.
Scenes like this played out as far as the eye could see in the sprawling emptiness above and the solid whiteness under my feet.
"Where is God?" I asked
The woman guiding me bursts out into laughter wiping tears from her eye's.
Her eyes focus on mine "None of them exist a few weirdo's claim they were Thor or Yahweh or Coyote but they are just like you and me"
I can feel the sadness I had fought all my life returning even in death apparently I couldn't escape it.
"Why don't you go back?" I asked.
She touched my hand and I felt my heart race and my body felt hot "because I refuse to live another life like this" in that moment I saw above me fire as the roof burned and the fire creeped towards me. I tried to move but I couldn't feel them. I looked down to see her legs and the huge double headed axe buried in my stomach. My ripped and bloody clothes laid strewn about. The smoke made caused me to choke and cough well my eyes couldn't see through the stinging tears.
Just as quickly as it had begun it was over and I caught her quickly wiping away her tears. As she cleared her throat and her mask returned. "So Jack what will it be?"
The end |
Mainly, there is something after death, but religions are wrong about it. | [WP] As an atheist, you always believed that there was nothing after death. After your last breath, you discover that you were wrong, but that no one else was right about what's after either. | “Hello?” I said confused. I was on a beach alone in silence with nothing but pink sand and a calm indigo colored ocean in front of me. Mist covered the ocean in the distance, I looked around the beach and noticed mist surrounded me on all sides. The sky was purple and blue and filled with so many stars, the most I’ve ever seen. It was a beautiful, yet eerie beach. “How did I get here?” I asked myself. The last thing I remember was arguing with my mom on my phone in the car.
I sat down in the sand and ran my finger’s through the fine pink sand. I lifted some sand and let it fall to the ground. I was thinking of my dog, she was in the car with me too. As the sand hit the ground, it bounced off the other sand and floated in the air. The floating pink sand started spinning around kicking more sand into the air. I stood up as the sand started form together in the shape of a dog.
“What’s going on?” I said as I curiously stared at the pink dog made of sand. I looked closer and realized that it looked like Mortice, my lab. The sand dog sat down and stared at me. “Are you alive?” I yelled in surprise.
The pink sand dog shook itself like it was wet, pink sand flew off the dog revealing its off white fur beneath the sand. Mortice was there in front of me as his normal self. I dropped too my knees and gave my dog a hug. Mortice jumped up and put his paws on my shoulders licking my face. “Is it really you? I’m so glad you’re here!” I yelled in happiness.
Mortice jumped down and stared at me, then said, “kind of... and thanks.” My jaw dropped. “How can you speak?”
“I can only speak here if you let me.”
“Whoa, how did we get here?”
“How did we get here... well, we died.”
“No. But... but...” I sat down in disbelief. “We can’t be, but,” I remembered the accident, I was yelling at my mom on the phone when a truck hit me. If she didn’t call me to pick a fight with me...
“There was so much I wanted to do.” I said angered.
“Where am I? Heaven? Hell? Other? I thought there was nothing when we died.”
“This place? Hmmm, I guess I call this place, The Sandbox.”
“Is this all there is?” I asked, as I looked around the foggy beach. It seemed the fog was getting thicker.
“No. Maybe. I’m not sure, I think it’s up to you.”
“Okay.” I said, disappointed.
I sat on beach and thought about my short life, 23 years. When I was 18, I thought I’d be rich by now. Nothing but hardships, failures, and suffering, I knew there was no god. No being could allow humans to exist how they are. I started to run through all my past scenarios in my head, the regrets and things I would’ve done differently if I could. I ran my hands through the pink sand again and picked some up. I thought about my parents house, where I lived in the basement. I dropped the sand on the ground and then the ground began to shake.
I ran away from the shaking sand on the ground. Pink sand suspended in the air and started to float up, first a few specs, then a massive amount quickly burst up from the ground in the shape of a house. When the sand finished its form, sand started to fall off the sides revealing the colors and wood that made the house. It was my house.
I quickly ran into my house as Mortice followed. I was surprised to see the inside was exactly what I remembered. I quickly ran down to my room in the basement. I jumped into my bed and Mortice jumped in with me. I felt like I was home.
“Can I create anything I want with the sand?” I asked Mortice.
“I don’t know, I think so, anything from your mind as you remember it.”
“Haha, wow that’s so cool.” I said. I grabbed my remote for my TV and turned it on. “Haha, wow even the TV works.” I continued to look around my room and marveled at how it seemed to be an exact copy of what I remembered.
“Can I ask you something?” Mortice asked me.
“Yea of course, anything now that you can talk!”
“Why did you get me?”
...part 1 | "I'm Jack" I sputter out to the woman who sits at the desk in front of me.
"Well Jack do you remember how you got here?"her smile is blinding and contrast her black hair which is bound into a pony tail with leather strips.
I start to answer no when it hits me the smell of burnt flesh and the pain of my skin peeling and cracking and falling off. I gag and feel sick yet my stomach doesn't twist.
"You're dead Jack! You died in a fire."
Tears flow from my eyes "Did it take"
She cuts me off "Your cat is alive as is the young lady you lived with. That however is no longer your concern"
"What do you mean I love them I need them"
You are dead that life for you is over you have two choices wander the afterlife and live with the memories of every life you have lived or return to a new life with no memory of your past lives. But first the tour"
As the woman approached the office door she tapped the wall and it turned into tiny balls of light that joined with her body. "First lesson your life energy can be used to create things just make sure you reabsorb it or you will run out and cease to exist"
My eyes widened at the sight of what could be best described as pure chaos a mostly dull white world filled with people doing all sorts of things a group of people sitting and playing video games while another group fight monster's that when slayed returns to another person who is floating above them. While another person is sitting in a comfy chair reading a book. With a fireplace.
Scenes like this played out as far as the eye could see in the sprawling emptiness above and the solid whiteness under my feet.
"Where is God?" I asked
The woman guiding me bursts out into laughter wiping tears from her eye's.
Her eyes focus on mine "None of them exist a few weirdo's claim they were Thor or Yahweh or Coyote but they are just like you and me"
I can feel the sadness I had fought all my life returning even in death apparently I couldn't escape it.
"Why don't you go back?" I asked.
She touched my hand and I felt my heart race and my body felt hot "because I refuse to live another life like this" in that moment I saw above me fire as the roof burned and the fire creeped towards me. I tried to move but I couldn't feel them. I looked down to see her legs and the huge double headed axe buried in my stomach. My ripped and bloody clothes laid strewn about. The smoke made caused me to choke and cough well my eyes couldn't see through the stinging tears.
Just as quickly as it had begun it was over and I caught her quickly wiping away her tears. As she cleared her throat and her mask returned. "So Jack what will it be?"
The end |
Mainly, there is something after death, but religions are wrong about it. | [WP] As an atheist, you always believed that there was nothing after death. After your last breath, you discover that you were wrong, but that no one else was right about what's after either. | I clawed at the surface, hoping for someone, anyone that would save me.
All I received in return was the cold embrace of the ocean, dragging me further into its depths. I could see the shimmer of the surface, the thin line so close, yet just out of reach. I kicked my feet, hoping to gain a little height.
It was useless.
I thrashed around, kicking my legs and waving my arms, but to no avail. I could see the bubbles of air escape my mouth, floating effortlessly to the surface in no time, a luxury that I could not receive.
The last of my air bubbled out of my mouth, almost taunting me to the surface. The surface that I could not reach. The surface that drew the line between life and death.
Any hope I had seeped out, replaced by the cold ocean water. It was too late. My movements slowed, my vision darkened, my panic fading away.
Finally, peace.
I had accepted my fate, ready for the world to fade out, to become an issue that I no longer had to worry about. I remember my life, the best, worst, and everything in between. From the time that my friends threw a surprise party for me, to the day the breakup happened, and finally, this fishing trip that would become my demise.
It all rushed through me.
I shut my eyes, turning the inky blue darkness of the water into black. I tried to remember that surprise party as vividly as I can, hoping that at least I would die happy.
I had just gotten off one of my worst days at work. Customer complaints, getting berated by the boss, and worst of all, my coworker, now a friend that I’d worked with for as long as I remember died. Coincidentally, also by drowning during a fishing trip.
I sat in my car, tears welling in my eyes, on the verge of a complete shutdown. It was raining that evening, the heavy showers adding nothing but despair to my already miserable day.
I climbed the stairs to my apartment, jamming my key into the deadbolt. I turned it, expecting to feel the deadbolt slide into the door. It didn’t. Nevertheless, I opened the door, flicked on the lights, and made a beeline straight for the ice cream.
“Surprise!” They all shouted, popping confetti, and jumping out of their hiding places. I let the spoon in my hand clatter to the ground and my jaw soon followed. In that instant, my sadness was replaced by smiling faces, confetti, and cake. I’d been so caught up that I forgot about my birthday.
It was such a pleasant memory. I could see the baby blue cake frosting, the red and blue confetti flying from the ceiling, the “Happy Birthday!” banner hanging from the wall. This was the height of the memory, that image almost ingrained into my mind. I shed a happy tear, stepping forwards to hug my friends.
I could feel their warm breaths, the crinkling of their clothes as I embraced them, and hear their laughs.
It felt too real.
Wait.
It *was* too real.
I took a step back, checking my clothes. It was the same black jeans and gray hoodie that I always wore to fishing trips, not to work.
No, this couldn’t be real. I tried to force my eyelids open, to see the ocean that would kill me.
But I couldn’t. My eyes were already open, looking at the surprise party that my friends threw.
I felt a warmth from the right pocket of my jeans. I reached in, pulling a piece of paper out.
*A second chance is yours. Relive your worst memories, relive your best. And when you’re done, you’ll have a fresh start. A blank slate. A new chance at life.*
*Consider this offer.*
___
Thanks for reading! | They told me they would kill me if I didn't cooperate with them.
That was fine by me. I was comfortable with death. After 32 years of constant chatter, internal monologues, commentary on what happened around me, and negative self-talk, the idea of *absolute silence* sounded perfectly blissful.
So I let the agent shoot me. The physical pain was overwhelming, but only for a moment, before I drifted into unconsciousness.
What surprised me was the blinding cacophony that came afterl.
"Why are you here?"
"What do you want?"
"Why did you come to us?"
"Go back where you belong!"
"Go home!"
"There's nothing for you here!"
"Why did you come here?"
A thousand voices shrieked in my ears. Except that my ears had nothing to do with it, because I no longer had ears. I no longer had anything to plug my fingers in to drown out the insistant onslaught of questions.
I could not see, could not move, could not take a breath to stabilize myself. I tried to respond to the questions, but they came so fast, one on top of the other, without giving me a chance to respond.
I had expected silence, I had expected nothingness. It had never occurred to me that dying would bring me to a new world, a world where I was entirely unwelcome. |
Mainly, there is something after death, but religions are wrong about it. | [WP] As an atheist, you always believed that there was nothing after death. After your last breath, you discover that you were wrong, but that no one else was right about what's after either. | Time is weird. It always was, but now that I know the last minutes on this earth are ticking away, it feels even weirder. All my memories are here, now. The innocence of childhood, summers spent playing in the woods, swimming in the lake at my granpa's cottage. Learning to drive, falling in love again and again. It's all here now. For a second I can smell the drying pine needles warmed by the sun, glinting through the trees from when I got lost in the woods as a kid. And the strong cologne my dad used. Damn, I was barely three when he died. It's all here. All the time I've had, swirling and coming and going. I look at my wife for the first time, and I feel my heart skip a beat. I feel her body against mine, just like it was when we made love for the first time. All my regrets and the pain I've caused is here, too. I feel it, but I don't want to dwell on those things. I feel truely sorry for all the wrongs I've done, but I choose to drift away in the golden light of a life lived to the full. With the good and the bad. I've had a good life and now it's going away.
Time is weird. It always was. And now, while I lay here dying, time stitches the last threads on the tapestry of my life. I am there, a living witness for every event and yet, I am also here, watching it all fade away from me and becoming less and less familiar. In the end, life and death felt bitter sweet. Like falling in love in a dream and waking up sad and missing someone that was never really there. Then slowly forgetting all about it. This was my last thought. This was the moment of surrender and my last moment in time.
After a second of eternity and confusion I realize that time had stopped moving. "Wait, that's wrong. Isn't it?", I thought. I couldn't quite put my finger on the meaning or the concept of time anymore. It felt different than before... But what was there before? Before what? I felt confused. I did have a fleeting feeling that I used to be in time, but now that's just ridiculous! How could I be inside time, when it's just a tiny sphere, right here in fron of me. I have a strange understanding of it now. "It's My sphere", I say slowly and take closer look at the golden little sphere hovering in the void. It is beautiful and it feels complete. And then it explodes in to endless fractals.
"Complete..." I whisper to myself and giggle a little, "thats a funny word" I say and lean back on my lawn chair. "Wait! What!?" I shout startled and jerk back up. A wave of existential terror washes over me like an ice cold tsunami. "What the hell is going on, man" I ask to no one particular. I'm panicking, I don't known where I am or what I am. "I'm freaking out here, man!" I shout and try to grasp what the hell is going on. "I can't see shit!" I scream and try to stand up while trying to crasp the concept of "feet" and "standing" and "up". I hear a muffled voice calling me: "Chris, open your eyes, man! Chill dude, you're fine!". I know it's Aaron. I know him. "Holy fucking shit, I'm Chris!" I shout as I open my eyes to the scene of a setting sun, on a beach near the lake. "So, how was it?" Aaron ask's more amused than worried. "How was what?" I ask still confused and weirded out, chills runing through my spine. "What the everloving fuck just happened, dude? Did I do it? How long was I out?" I ask as the memories of being Chris slowly fill my mind. "Oh, about five minutes," Aaron says in a care free way and offers me a glass pipe: "wanna go again?" | They told me they would kill me if I didn't cooperate with them.
That was fine by me. I was comfortable with death. After 32 years of constant chatter, internal monologues, commentary on what happened around me, and negative self-talk, the idea of *absolute silence* sounded perfectly blissful.
So I let the agent shoot me. The physical pain was overwhelming, but only for a moment, before I drifted into unconsciousness.
What surprised me was the blinding cacophony that came afterl.
"Why are you here?"
"What do you want?"
"Why did you come to us?"
"Go back where you belong!"
"Go home!"
"There's nothing for you here!"
"Why did you come here?"
A thousand voices shrieked in my ears. Except that my ears had nothing to do with it, because I no longer had ears. I no longer had anything to plug my fingers in to drown out the insistant onslaught of questions.
I could not see, could not move, could not take a breath to stabilize myself. I tried to respond to the questions, but they came so fast, one on top of the other, without giving me a chance to respond.
I had expected silence, I had expected nothingness. It had never occurred to me that dying would bring me to a new world, a world where I was entirely unwelcome. |
Mainly, there is something after death, but religions are wrong about it. | [WP] As an atheist, you always believed that there was nothing after death. After your last breath, you discover that you were wrong, but that no one else was right about what's after either. | “Hello?” I said confused. I was on a beach alone in silence with nothing but pink sand and a calm indigo colored ocean in front of me. Mist covered the ocean in the distance, I looked around the beach and noticed mist surrounded me on all sides. The sky was purple and blue and filled with so many stars, the most I’ve ever seen. It was a beautiful, yet eerie beach. “How did I get here?” I asked myself. The last thing I remember was arguing with my mom on my phone in the car.
I sat down in the sand and ran my finger’s through the fine pink sand. I lifted some sand and let it fall to the ground. I was thinking of my dog, she was in the car with me too. As the sand hit the ground, it bounced off the other sand and floated in the air. The floating pink sand started spinning around kicking more sand into the air. I stood up as the sand started form together in the shape of a dog.
“What’s going on?” I said as I curiously stared at the pink dog made of sand. I looked closer and realized that it looked like Mortice, my lab. The sand dog sat down and stared at me. “Are you alive?” I yelled in surprise.
The pink sand dog shook itself like it was wet, pink sand flew off the dog revealing its off white fur beneath the sand. Mortice was there in front of me as his normal self. I dropped too my knees and gave my dog a hug. Mortice jumped up and put his paws on my shoulders licking my face. “Is it really you? I’m so glad you’re here!” I yelled in happiness.
Mortice jumped down and stared at me, then said, “kind of... and thanks.” My jaw dropped. “How can you speak?”
“I can only speak here if you let me.”
“Whoa, how did we get here?”
“How did we get here... well, we died.”
“No. But... but...” I sat down in disbelief. “We can’t be, but,” I remembered the accident, I was yelling at my mom on the phone when a truck hit me. If she didn’t call me to pick a fight with me...
“There was so much I wanted to do.” I said angered.
“Where am I? Heaven? Hell? Other? I thought there was nothing when we died.”
“This place? Hmmm, I guess I call this place, The Sandbox.”
“Is this all there is?” I asked, as I looked around the foggy beach. It seemed the fog was getting thicker.
“No. Maybe. I’m not sure, I think it’s up to you.”
“Okay.” I said, disappointed.
I sat on beach and thought about my short life, 23 years. When I was 18, I thought I’d be rich by now. Nothing but hardships, failures, and suffering, I knew there was no god. No being could allow humans to exist how they are. I started to run through all my past scenarios in my head, the regrets and things I would’ve done differently if I could. I ran my hands through the pink sand again and picked some up. I thought about my parents house, where I lived in the basement. I dropped the sand on the ground and then the ground began to shake.
I ran away from the shaking sand on the ground. Pink sand suspended in the air and started to float up, first a few specs, then a massive amount quickly burst up from the ground in the shape of a house. When the sand finished its form, sand started to fall off the sides revealing the colors and wood that made the house. It was my house.
I quickly ran into my house as Mortice followed. I was surprised to see the inside was exactly what I remembered. I quickly ran down to my room in the basement. I jumped into my bed and Mortice jumped in with me. I felt like I was home.
“Can I create anything I want with the sand?” I asked Mortice.
“I don’t know, I think so, anything from your mind as you remember it.”
“Haha, wow that’s so cool.” I said. I grabbed my remote for my TV and turned it on. “Haha, wow even the TV works.” I continued to look around my room and marveled at how it seemed to be an exact copy of what I remembered.
“Can I ask you something?” Mortice asked me.
“Yea of course, anything now that you can talk!”
“Why did you get me?”
...part 1 | They told me they would kill me if I didn't cooperate with them.
That was fine by me. I was comfortable with death. After 32 years of constant chatter, internal monologues, commentary on what happened around me, and negative self-talk, the idea of *absolute silence* sounded perfectly blissful.
So I let the agent shoot me. The physical pain was overwhelming, but only for a moment, before I drifted into unconsciousness.
What surprised me was the blinding cacophony that came afterl.
"Why are you here?"
"What do you want?"
"Why did you come to us?"
"Go back where you belong!"
"Go home!"
"There's nothing for you here!"
"Why did you come here?"
A thousand voices shrieked in my ears. Except that my ears had nothing to do with it, because I no longer had ears. I no longer had anything to plug my fingers in to drown out the insistant onslaught of questions.
I could not see, could not move, could not take a breath to stabilize myself. I tried to respond to the questions, but they came so fast, one on top of the other, without giving me a chance to respond.
I had expected silence, I had expected nothingness. It had never occurred to me that dying would bring me to a new world, a world where I was entirely unwelcome. |
Mainly, there is something after death, but religions are wrong about it. | [WP] As an atheist, you always believed that there was nothing after death. After your last breath, you discover that you were wrong, but that no one else was right about what's after either. | The sun was setting between the hills as I pushed the barrel of the gun against my head. Such a beautiful world, yet entirely pointless. To live was a constant struggle that was made seem worthwhile through fleeting miniscule pleasures. No more. Welcome sweet nothingness.
I squeeze the trigger.
Bizarre shapes cloud my vision and slowly grow into unreal sharpness. Surely this was a death dream, nothing so absurd could actually exist.
Two cartoony children were fiddlimg with what looked like a glowing iPad. Their heads were disproportionately larger than their bodies and their features were straight out of various animated movies I'd seen.
"Papa, Papa what do we watch next? This one was boring" said the younger of the two, who looked like a baby Elsa. "Yeah, it was all mopey and slow moving, like we get it, you don't like your life" said the other one shaped like a child Po panda from Kung Fu panda. I try to rub my eyes, only to find I don't have them. This was no dream, I could see each individual hair on Po's adorable belly.
A stomping that shakes my vision introduces a large dragon that booms, "Now, now children, if you only ever watch the fun ones, you'll stop appreciating the sad and boring parts of life. It's how different the two experiences are that make life worth living. Now put this one back in its case carefully and play the next one. You know that we have play them all for the characters to come together and recreate us in their world."
"Yes papa, I really love it when we have to figure out the tiny things each one accidentally causes to make the movie finally come together. I think the one we just watched was eating pies in a karate costume and that's where the guy who writes my movie gets the idea from." says Po.
"Maybe" winks the dragon playfully.
"But papa do the humans know they're all just movies we made? They look so real, it feels mean to play them over and over." asks tiny Elsa, widening her saucer like eyes adorably.
"Don't worry sweetie, they're just physical objects, they're not really alive. Everyone knows all living things exist digitally. They just look like they feel things but they don't really feel anything." says the dragon as the lid on the case shuts, enveloping me in darkness.
"What if they do feel things, in ways that we don't understand?"
"Well then, the humans had it coming, they make digital versions of us to play for themselves too and they don't think twice about it" | They told me they would kill me if I didn't cooperate with them.
That was fine by me. I was comfortable with death. After 32 years of constant chatter, internal monologues, commentary on what happened around me, and negative self-talk, the idea of *absolute silence* sounded perfectly blissful.
So I let the agent shoot me. The physical pain was overwhelming, but only for a moment, before I drifted into unconsciousness.
What surprised me was the blinding cacophony that came afterl.
"Why are you here?"
"What do you want?"
"Why did you come to us?"
"Go back where you belong!"
"Go home!"
"There's nothing for you here!"
"Why did you come here?"
A thousand voices shrieked in my ears. Except that my ears had nothing to do with it, because I no longer had ears. I no longer had anything to plug my fingers in to drown out the insistant onslaught of questions.
I could not see, could not move, could not take a breath to stabilize myself. I tried to respond to the questions, but they came so fast, one on top of the other, without giving me a chance to respond.
I had expected silence, I had expected nothingness. It had never occurred to me that dying would bring me to a new world, a world where I was entirely unwelcome. |
Mainly, there is something after death, but religions are wrong about it. | [WP] As an atheist, you always believed that there was nothing after death. After your last breath, you discover that you were wrong, but that no one else was right about what's after either. | My body was so weak. Everything hurt so much. But I was fine with it. I had lived a long and happy life, and now was simply the natural end to it. I knew that nothing would come after this, but I accepted it. My body was getting cold. I held my friends hand tight as the beeping started to get quieter and quieter and as my vision started to fade to black...
And then there was nothing.
Just... a void with my consciousness inside it.
It was like I had my eyes closed shut, but worse. I couldn't feel ANYTHING. No sound, no feeling, no nothing. I felt like I was nowhere. I was terrified. Was there something after death after all? Is this not it? And then something appeared in front of me. A single message, showing me what my new fate was, explaining equally as much as it raised questions- actually, it raised more. Because it read
"You can now play as Luigi" | They told me they would kill me if I didn't cooperate with them.
That was fine by me. I was comfortable with death. After 32 years of constant chatter, internal monologues, commentary on what happened around me, and negative self-talk, the idea of *absolute silence* sounded perfectly blissful.
So I let the agent shoot me. The physical pain was overwhelming, but only for a moment, before I drifted into unconsciousness.
What surprised me was the blinding cacophony that came afterl.
"Why are you here?"
"What do you want?"
"Why did you come to us?"
"Go back where you belong!"
"Go home!"
"There's nothing for you here!"
"Why did you come here?"
A thousand voices shrieked in my ears. Except that my ears had nothing to do with it, because I no longer had ears. I no longer had anything to plug my fingers in to drown out the insistant onslaught of questions.
I could not see, could not move, could not take a breath to stabilize myself. I tried to respond to the questions, but they came so fast, one on top of the other, without giving me a chance to respond.
I had expected silence, I had expected nothingness. It had never occurred to me that dying would bring me to a new world, a world where I was entirely unwelcome. |
Mainly, there is something after death, but religions are wrong about it. | [WP] As an atheist, you always believed that there was nothing after death. After your last breath, you discover that you were wrong, but that no one else was right about what's after either. | I clawed at the surface, hoping for someone, anyone that would save me.
All I received in return was the cold embrace of the ocean, dragging me further into its depths. I could see the shimmer of the surface, the thin line so close, yet just out of reach. I kicked my feet, hoping to gain a little height.
It was useless.
I thrashed around, kicking my legs and waving my arms, but to no avail. I could see the bubbles of air escape my mouth, floating effortlessly to the surface in no time, a luxury that I could not receive.
The last of my air bubbled out of my mouth, almost taunting me to the surface. The surface that I could not reach. The surface that drew the line between life and death.
Any hope I had seeped out, replaced by the cold ocean water. It was too late. My movements slowed, my vision darkened, my panic fading away.
Finally, peace.
I had accepted my fate, ready for the world to fade out, to become an issue that I no longer had to worry about. I remember my life, the best, worst, and everything in between. From the time that my friends threw a surprise party for me, to the day the breakup happened, and finally, this fishing trip that would become my demise.
It all rushed through me.
I shut my eyes, turning the inky blue darkness of the water into black. I tried to remember that surprise party as vividly as I can, hoping that at least I would die happy.
I had just gotten off one of my worst days at work. Customer complaints, getting berated by the boss, and worst of all, my coworker, now a friend that I’d worked with for as long as I remember died. Coincidentally, also by drowning during a fishing trip.
I sat in my car, tears welling in my eyes, on the verge of a complete shutdown. It was raining that evening, the heavy showers adding nothing but despair to my already miserable day.
I climbed the stairs to my apartment, jamming my key into the deadbolt. I turned it, expecting to feel the deadbolt slide into the door. It didn’t. Nevertheless, I opened the door, flicked on the lights, and made a beeline straight for the ice cream.
“Surprise!” They all shouted, popping confetti, and jumping out of their hiding places. I let the spoon in my hand clatter to the ground and my jaw soon followed. In that instant, my sadness was replaced by smiling faces, confetti, and cake. I’d been so caught up that I forgot about my birthday.
It was such a pleasant memory. I could see the baby blue cake frosting, the red and blue confetti flying from the ceiling, the “Happy Birthday!” banner hanging from the wall. This was the height of the memory, that image almost ingrained into my mind. I shed a happy tear, stepping forwards to hug my friends.
I could feel their warm breaths, the crinkling of their clothes as I embraced them, and hear their laughs.
It felt too real.
Wait.
It *was* too real.
I took a step back, checking my clothes. It was the same black jeans and gray hoodie that I always wore to fishing trips, not to work.
No, this couldn’t be real. I tried to force my eyelids open, to see the ocean that would kill me.
But I couldn’t. My eyes were already open, looking at the surprise party that my friends threw.
I felt a warmth from the right pocket of my jeans. I reached in, pulling a piece of paper out.
*A second chance is yours. Relive your worst memories, relive your best. And when you’re done, you’ll have a fresh start. A blank slate. A new chance at life.*
*Consider this offer.*
___
Thanks for reading! | When I awoke again, I noticed something was wrong. There was an afterlife, yes, however all of the religions describing it were wrong. Or rather, they were right, in a sense. Demons walked among angels, einherji among knights...and there were many gods from different religions. This felt strange.
I gathered my senses and walked to a booth labeled "New Arrivals." I checked myself in and soon was booked a private suite and apartment. It was fancy, as I had done good, however I was still confused. I checked the map, and I found out more.
Turns out different religions had different neighborhoods. And each was fitted to the person's tastes. Some were just regular sections while others were high class. Of course, there were some military bases, like Valhalla. I searched around a bit, soon finding where Hell was. Turns out it was just one massive supermax. Eh, could be weirder, but this wasn't so bad. |
Mainly, there is something after death, but religions are wrong about it. | [WP] As an atheist, you always believed that there was nothing after death. After your last breath, you discover that you were wrong, but that no one else was right about what's after either. | Time is weird. It always was, but now that I know the last minutes on this earth are ticking away, it feels even weirder. All my memories are here, now. The innocence of childhood, summers spent playing in the woods, swimming in the lake at my granpa's cottage. Learning to drive, falling in love again and again. It's all here now. For a second I can smell the drying pine needles warmed by the sun, glinting through the trees from when I got lost in the woods as a kid. And the strong cologne my dad used. Damn, I was barely three when he died. It's all here. All the time I've had, swirling and coming and going. I look at my wife for the first time, and I feel my heart skip a beat. I feel her body against mine, just like it was when we made love for the first time. All my regrets and the pain I've caused is here, too. I feel it, but I don't want to dwell on those things. I feel truely sorry for all the wrongs I've done, but I choose to drift away in the golden light of a life lived to the full. With the good and the bad. I've had a good life and now it's going away.
Time is weird. It always was. And now, while I lay here dying, time stitches the last threads on the tapestry of my life. I am there, a living witness for every event and yet, I am also here, watching it all fade away from me and becoming less and less familiar. In the end, life and death felt bitter sweet. Like falling in love in a dream and waking up sad and missing someone that was never really there. Then slowly forgetting all about it. This was my last thought. This was the moment of surrender and my last moment in time.
After a second of eternity and confusion I realize that time had stopped moving. "Wait, that's wrong. Isn't it?", I thought. I couldn't quite put my finger on the meaning or the concept of time anymore. It felt different than before... But what was there before? Before what? I felt confused. I did have a fleeting feeling that I used to be in time, but now that's just ridiculous! How could I be inside time, when it's just a tiny sphere, right here in fron of me. I have a strange understanding of it now. "It's My sphere", I say slowly and take closer look at the golden little sphere hovering in the void. It is beautiful and it feels complete. And then it explodes in to endless fractals.
"Complete..." I whisper to myself and giggle a little, "thats a funny word" I say and lean back on my lawn chair. "Wait! What!?" I shout startled and jerk back up. A wave of existential terror washes over me like an ice cold tsunami. "What the hell is going on, man" I ask to no one particular. I'm panicking, I don't known where I am or what I am. "I'm freaking out here, man!" I shout and try to grasp what the hell is going on. "I can't see shit!" I scream and try to stand up while trying to crasp the concept of "feet" and "standing" and "up". I hear a muffled voice calling me: "Chris, open your eyes, man! Chill dude, you're fine!". I know it's Aaron. I know him. "Holy fucking shit, I'm Chris!" I shout as I open my eyes to the scene of a setting sun, on a beach near the lake. "So, how was it?" Aaron ask's more amused than worried. "How was what?" I ask still confused and weirded out, chills runing through my spine. "What the everloving fuck just happened, dude? Did I do it? How long was I out?" I ask as the memories of being Chris slowly fill my mind. "Oh, about five minutes," Aaron says in a care free way and offers me a glass pipe: "wanna go again?" | When I awoke again, I noticed something was wrong. There was an afterlife, yes, however all of the religions describing it were wrong. Or rather, they were right, in a sense. Demons walked among angels, einherji among knights...and there were many gods from different religions. This felt strange.
I gathered my senses and walked to a booth labeled "New Arrivals." I checked myself in and soon was booked a private suite and apartment. It was fancy, as I had done good, however I was still confused. I checked the map, and I found out more.
Turns out different religions had different neighborhoods. And each was fitted to the person's tastes. Some were just regular sections while others were high class. Of course, there were some military bases, like Valhalla. I searched around a bit, soon finding where Hell was. Turns out it was just one massive supermax. Eh, could be weirder, but this wasn't so bad. |
Mainly, there is something after death, but religions are wrong about it. | [WP] As an atheist, you always believed that there was nothing after death. After your last breath, you discover that you were wrong, but that no one else was right about what's after either. | “Hello?” I said confused. I was on a beach alone in silence with nothing but pink sand and a calm indigo colored ocean in front of me. Mist covered the ocean in the distance, I looked around the beach and noticed mist surrounded me on all sides. The sky was purple and blue and filled with so many stars, the most I’ve ever seen. It was a beautiful, yet eerie beach. “How did I get here?” I asked myself. The last thing I remember was arguing with my mom on my phone in the car.
I sat down in the sand and ran my finger’s through the fine pink sand. I lifted some sand and let it fall to the ground. I was thinking of my dog, she was in the car with me too. As the sand hit the ground, it bounced off the other sand and floated in the air. The floating pink sand started spinning around kicking more sand into the air. I stood up as the sand started form together in the shape of a dog.
“What’s going on?” I said as I curiously stared at the pink dog made of sand. I looked closer and realized that it looked like Mortice, my lab. The sand dog sat down and stared at me. “Are you alive?” I yelled in surprise.
The pink sand dog shook itself like it was wet, pink sand flew off the dog revealing its off white fur beneath the sand. Mortice was there in front of me as his normal self. I dropped too my knees and gave my dog a hug. Mortice jumped up and put his paws on my shoulders licking my face. “Is it really you? I’m so glad you’re here!” I yelled in happiness.
Mortice jumped down and stared at me, then said, “kind of... and thanks.” My jaw dropped. “How can you speak?”
“I can only speak here if you let me.”
“Whoa, how did we get here?”
“How did we get here... well, we died.”
“No. But... but...” I sat down in disbelief. “We can’t be, but,” I remembered the accident, I was yelling at my mom on the phone when a truck hit me. If she didn’t call me to pick a fight with me...
“There was so much I wanted to do.” I said angered.
“Where am I? Heaven? Hell? Other? I thought there was nothing when we died.”
“This place? Hmmm, I guess I call this place, The Sandbox.”
“Is this all there is?” I asked, as I looked around the foggy beach. It seemed the fog was getting thicker.
“No. Maybe. I’m not sure, I think it’s up to you.”
“Okay.” I said, disappointed.
I sat on beach and thought about my short life, 23 years. When I was 18, I thought I’d be rich by now. Nothing but hardships, failures, and suffering, I knew there was no god. No being could allow humans to exist how they are. I started to run through all my past scenarios in my head, the regrets and things I would’ve done differently if I could. I ran my hands through the pink sand again and picked some up. I thought about my parents house, where I lived in the basement. I dropped the sand on the ground and then the ground began to shake.
I ran away from the shaking sand on the ground. Pink sand suspended in the air and started to float up, first a few specs, then a massive amount quickly burst up from the ground in the shape of a house. When the sand finished its form, sand started to fall off the sides revealing the colors and wood that made the house. It was my house.
I quickly ran into my house as Mortice followed. I was surprised to see the inside was exactly what I remembered. I quickly ran down to my room in the basement. I jumped into my bed and Mortice jumped in with me. I felt like I was home.
“Can I create anything I want with the sand?” I asked Mortice.
“I don’t know, I think so, anything from your mind as you remember it.”
“Haha, wow that’s so cool.” I said. I grabbed my remote for my TV and turned it on. “Haha, wow even the TV works.” I continued to look around my room and marveled at how it seemed to be an exact copy of what I remembered.
“Can I ask you something?” Mortice asked me.
“Yea of course, anything now that you can talk!”
“Why did you get me?”
...part 1 | When I awoke again, I noticed something was wrong. There was an afterlife, yes, however all of the religions describing it were wrong. Or rather, they were right, in a sense. Demons walked among angels, einherji among knights...and there were many gods from different religions. This felt strange.
I gathered my senses and walked to a booth labeled "New Arrivals." I checked myself in and soon was booked a private suite and apartment. It was fancy, as I had done good, however I was still confused. I checked the map, and I found out more.
Turns out different religions had different neighborhoods. And each was fitted to the person's tastes. Some were just regular sections while others were high class. Of course, there were some military bases, like Valhalla. I searched around a bit, soon finding where Hell was. Turns out it was just one massive supermax. Eh, could be weirder, but this wasn't so bad. |
Mainly, there is something after death, but religions are wrong about it. | [WP] As an atheist, you always believed that there was nothing after death. After your last breath, you discover that you were wrong, but that no one else was right about what's after either. | My body was so weak. Everything hurt so much. But I was fine with it. I had lived a long and happy life, and now was simply the natural end to it. I knew that nothing would come after this, but I accepted it. My body was getting cold. I held my friends hand tight as the beeping started to get quieter and quieter and as my vision started to fade to black...
And then there was nothing.
Just... a void with my consciousness inside it.
It was like I had my eyes closed shut, but worse. I couldn't feel ANYTHING. No sound, no feeling, no nothing. I felt like I was nowhere. I was terrified. Was there something after death after all? Is this not it? And then something appeared in front of me. A single message, showing me what my new fate was, explaining equally as much as it raised questions- actually, it raised more. Because it read
"You can now play as Luigi" | When I awoke again, I noticed something was wrong. There was an afterlife, yes, however all of the religions describing it were wrong. Or rather, they were right, in a sense. Demons walked among angels, einherji among knights...and there were many gods from different religions. This felt strange.
I gathered my senses and walked to a booth labeled "New Arrivals." I checked myself in and soon was booked a private suite and apartment. It was fancy, as I had done good, however I was still confused. I checked the map, and I found out more.
Turns out different religions had different neighborhoods. And each was fitted to the person's tastes. Some were just regular sections while others were high class. Of course, there were some military bases, like Valhalla. I searched around a bit, soon finding where Hell was. Turns out it was just one massive supermax. Eh, could be weirder, but this wasn't so bad. |
Mainly, there is something after death, but religions are wrong about it. | [WP] As an atheist, you always believed that there was nothing after death. After your last breath, you discover that you were wrong, but that no one else was right about what's after either. | I clawed at the surface, hoping for someone, anyone that would save me.
All I received in return was the cold embrace of the ocean, dragging me further into its depths. I could see the shimmer of the surface, the thin line so close, yet just out of reach. I kicked my feet, hoping to gain a little height.
It was useless.
I thrashed around, kicking my legs and waving my arms, but to no avail. I could see the bubbles of air escape my mouth, floating effortlessly to the surface in no time, a luxury that I could not receive.
The last of my air bubbled out of my mouth, almost taunting me to the surface. The surface that I could not reach. The surface that drew the line between life and death.
Any hope I had seeped out, replaced by the cold ocean water. It was too late. My movements slowed, my vision darkened, my panic fading away.
Finally, peace.
I had accepted my fate, ready for the world to fade out, to become an issue that I no longer had to worry about. I remember my life, the best, worst, and everything in between. From the time that my friends threw a surprise party for me, to the day the breakup happened, and finally, this fishing trip that would become my demise.
It all rushed through me.
I shut my eyes, turning the inky blue darkness of the water into black. I tried to remember that surprise party as vividly as I can, hoping that at least I would die happy.
I had just gotten off one of my worst days at work. Customer complaints, getting berated by the boss, and worst of all, my coworker, now a friend that I’d worked with for as long as I remember died. Coincidentally, also by drowning during a fishing trip.
I sat in my car, tears welling in my eyes, on the verge of a complete shutdown. It was raining that evening, the heavy showers adding nothing but despair to my already miserable day.
I climbed the stairs to my apartment, jamming my key into the deadbolt. I turned it, expecting to feel the deadbolt slide into the door. It didn’t. Nevertheless, I opened the door, flicked on the lights, and made a beeline straight for the ice cream.
“Surprise!” They all shouted, popping confetti, and jumping out of their hiding places. I let the spoon in my hand clatter to the ground and my jaw soon followed. In that instant, my sadness was replaced by smiling faces, confetti, and cake. I’d been so caught up that I forgot about my birthday.
It was such a pleasant memory. I could see the baby blue cake frosting, the red and blue confetti flying from the ceiling, the “Happy Birthday!” banner hanging from the wall. This was the height of the memory, that image almost ingrained into my mind. I shed a happy tear, stepping forwards to hug my friends.
I could feel their warm breaths, the crinkling of their clothes as I embraced them, and hear their laughs.
It felt too real.
Wait.
It *was* too real.
I took a step back, checking my clothes. It was the same black jeans and gray hoodie that I always wore to fishing trips, not to work.
No, this couldn’t be real. I tried to force my eyelids open, to see the ocean that would kill me.
But I couldn’t. My eyes were already open, looking at the surprise party that my friends threw.
I felt a warmth from the right pocket of my jeans. I reached in, pulling a piece of paper out.
*A second chance is yours. Relive your worst memories, relive your best. And when you’re done, you’ll have a fresh start. A blank slate. A new chance at life.*
*Consider this offer.*
___
Thanks for reading! | "Well crap!" I said as my eyes opened. That chainsaw trap apparently DID work after all.
Looking around all I could see was a dark room filled with night and somehow stars all around me. I could see everything yet nothing.
"Okay the drugs did not mix well with the chainsaw or I'm dead. I thought it would be more... empty."
My eyes drifted down towards my body. But it wasn't mine. It was.. hard to explain. It was like I had the body of a child yet a fat man at the same time. Constantly shifting like a whirlpool at the laundromat. That is when I knew you could apparently throw up while dead as I quite literally spilt my guts out of my body. Staring at the juicy, blood red organs of my system I did the sane thing and promptly tried to faint. But I couldn't. I could smell and see the horrid mess I created but I could not sleep? Strange indeed.
"Hello! God? Satan? Anyone there! I will even take my mother for goodness sakes." I exclaimed toward the void.
Nothing. Nothing came about of it. I was alone. I had no clue for how long. Even if time was a thing I never seemed hungry, thrifty or tired. Just in pain. No one but me. That was till my organs started to grow a human body around it becoming another me that is.
"Ah crud, I'm as ugly as a wrinkling skeleton. At least they smell good." I stated as my hand raised towards the nostrils. |
Mainly, there is something after death, but religions are wrong about it. | [WP] As an atheist, you always believed that there was nothing after death. After your last breath, you discover that you were wrong, but that no one else was right about what's after either. | Time is weird. It always was, but now that I know the last minutes on this earth are ticking away, it feels even weirder. All my memories are here, now. The innocence of childhood, summers spent playing in the woods, swimming in the lake at my granpa's cottage. Learning to drive, falling in love again and again. It's all here now. For a second I can smell the drying pine needles warmed by the sun, glinting through the trees from when I got lost in the woods as a kid. And the strong cologne my dad used. Damn, I was barely three when he died. It's all here. All the time I've had, swirling and coming and going. I look at my wife for the first time, and I feel my heart skip a beat. I feel her body against mine, just like it was when we made love for the first time. All my regrets and the pain I've caused is here, too. I feel it, but I don't want to dwell on those things. I feel truely sorry for all the wrongs I've done, but I choose to drift away in the golden light of a life lived to the full. With the good and the bad. I've had a good life and now it's going away.
Time is weird. It always was. And now, while I lay here dying, time stitches the last threads on the tapestry of my life. I am there, a living witness for every event and yet, I am also here, watching it all fade away from me and becoming less and less familiar. In the end, life and death felt bitter sweet. Like falling in love in a dream and waking up sad and missing someone that was never really there. Then slowly forgetting all about it. This was my last thought. This was the moment of surrender and my last moment in time.
After a second of eternity and confusion I realize that time had stopped moving. "Wait, that's wrong. Isn't it?", I thought. I couldn't quite put my finger on the meaning or the concept of time anymore. It felt different than before... But what was there before? Before what? I felt confused. I did have a fleeting feeling that I used to be in time, but now that's just ridiculous! How could I be inside time, when it's just a tiny sphere, right here in fron of me. I have a strange understanding of it now. "It's My sphere", I say slowly and take closer look at the golden little sphere hovering in the void. It is beautiful and it feels complete. And then it explodes in to endless fractals.
"Complete..." I whisper to myself and giggle a little, "thats a funny word" I say and lean back on my lawn chair. "Wait! What!?" I shout startled and jerk back up. A wave of existential terror washes over me like an ice cold tsunami. "What the hell is going on, man" I ask to no one particular. I'm panicking, I don't known where I am or what I am. "I'm freaking out here, man!" I shout and try to grasp what the hell is going on. "I can't see shit!" I scream and try to stand up while trying to crasp the concept of "feet" and "standing" and "up". I hear a muffled voice calling me: "Chris, open your eyes, man! Chill dude, you're fine!". I know it's Aaron. I know him. "Holy fucking shit, I'm Chris!" I shout as I open my eyes to the scene of a setting sun, on a beach near the lake. "So, how was it?" Aaron ask's more amused than worried. "How was what?" I ask still confused and weirded out, chills runing through my spine. "What the everloving fuck just happened, dude? Did I do it? How long was I out?" I ask as the memories of being Chris slowly fill my mind. "Oh, about five minutes," Aaron says in a care free way and offers me a glass pipe: "wanna go again?" | "Well crap!" I said as my eyes opened. That chainsaw trap apparently DID work after all.
Looking around all I could see was a dark room filled with night and somehow stars all around me. I could see everything yet nothing.
"Okay the drugs did not mix well with the chainsaw or I'm dead. I thought it would be more... empty."
My eyes drifted down towards my body. But it wasn't mine. It was.. hard to explain. It was like I had the body of a child yet a fat man at the same time. Constantly shifting like a whirlpool at the laundromat. That is when I knew you could apparently throw up while dead as I quite literally spilt my guts out of my body. Staring at the juicy, blood red organs of my system I did the sane thing and promptly tried to faint. But I couldn't. I could smell and see the horrid mess I created but I could not sleep? Strange indeed.
"Hello! God? Satan? Anyone there! I will even take my mother for goodness sakes." I exclaimed toward the void.
Nothing. Nothing came about of it. I was alone. I had no clue for how long. Even if time was a thing I never seemed hungry, thrifty or tired. Just in pain. No one but me. That was till my organs started to grow a human body around it becoming another me that is.
"Ah crud, I'm as ugly as a wrinkling skeleton. At least they smell good." I stated as my hand raised towards the nostrils. |
Mainly, there is something after death, but religions are wrong about it. | [WP] As an atheist, you always believed that there was nothing after death. After your last breath, you discover that you were wrong, but that no one else was right about what's after either. | “Hello?” I said confused. I was on a beach alone in silence with nothing but pink sand and a calm indigo colored ocean in front of me. Mist covered the ocean in the distance, I looked around the beach and noticed mist surrounded me on all sides. The sky was purple and blue and filled with so many stars, the most I’ve ever seen. It was a beautiful, yet eerie beach. “How did I get here?” I asked myself. The last thing I remember was arguing with my mom on my phone in the car.
I sat down in the sand and ran my finger’s through the fine pink sand. I lifted some sand and let it fall to the ground. I was thinking of my dog, she was in the car with me too. As the sand hit the ground, it bounced off the other sand and floated in the air. The floating pink sand started spinning around kicking more sand into the air. I stood up as the sand started form together in the shape of a dog.
“What’s going on?” I said as I curiously stared at the pink dog made of sand. I looked closer and realized that it looked like Mortice, my lab. The sand dog sat down and stared at me. “Are you alive?” I yelled in surprise.
The pink sand dog shook itself like it was wet, pink sand flew off the dog revealing its off white fur beneath the sand. Mortice was there in front of me as his normal self. I dropped too my knees and gave my dog a hug. Mortice jumped up and put his paws on my shoulders licking my face. “Is it really you? I’m so glad you’re here!” I yelled in happiness.
Mortice jumped down and stared at me, then said, “kind of... and thanks.” My jaw dropped. “How can you speak?”
“I can only speak here if you let me.”
“Whoa, how did we get here?”
“How did we get here... well, we died.”
“No. But... but...” I sat down in disbelief. “We can’t be, but,” I remembered the accident, I was yelling at my mom on the phone when a truck hit me. If she didn’t call me to pick a fight with me...
“There was so much I wanted to do.” I said angered.
“Where am I? Heaven? Hell? Other? I thought there was nothing when we died.”
“This place? Hmmm, I guess I call this place, The Sandbox.”
“Is this all there is?” I asked, as I looked around the foggy beach. It seemed the fog was getting thicker.
“No. Maybe. I’m not sure, I think it’s up to you.”
“Okay.” I said, disappointed.
I sat on beach and thought about my short life, 23 years. When I was 18, I thought I’d be rich by now. Nothing but hardships, failures, and suffering, I knew there was no god. No being could allow humans to exist how they are. I started to run through all my past scenarios in my head, the regrets and things I would’ve done differently if I could. I ran my hands through the pink sand again and picked some up. I thought about my parents house, where I lived in the basement. I dropped the sand on the ground and then the ground began to shake.
I ran away from the shaking sand on the ground. Pink sand suspended in the air and started to float up, first a few specs, then a massive amount quickly burst up from the ground in the shape of a house. When the sand finished its form, sand started to fall off the sides revealing the colors and wood that made the house. It was my house.
I quickly ran into my house as Mortice followed. I was surprised to see the inside was exactly what I remembered. I quickly ran down to my room in the basement. I jumped into my bed and Mortice jumped in with me. I felt like I was home.
“Can I create anything I want with the sand?” I asked Mortice.
“I don’t know, I think so, anything from your mind as you remember it.”
“Haha, wow that’s so cool.” I said. I grabbed my remote for my TV and turned it on. “Haha, wow even the TV works.” I continued to look around my room and marveled at how it seemed to be an exact copy of what I remembered.
“Can I ask you something?” Mortice asked me.
“Yea of course, anything now that you can talk!”
“Why did you get me?”
...part 1 | "Well crap!" I said as my eyes opened. That chainsaw trap apparently DID work after all.
Looking around all I could see was a dark room filled with night and somehow stars all around me. I could see everything yet nothing.
"Okay the drugs did not mix well with the chainsaw or I'm dead. I thought it would be more... empty."
My eyes drifted down towards my body. But it wasn't mine. It was.. hard to explain. It was like I had the body of a child yet a fat man at the same time. Constantly shifting like a whirlpool at the laundromat. That is when I knew you could apparently throw up while dead as I quite literally spilt my guts out of my body. Staring at the juicy, blood red organs of my system I did the sane thing and promptly tried to faint. But I couldn't. I could smell and see the horrid mess I created but I could not sleep? Strange indeed.
"Hello! God? Satan? Anyone there! I will even take my mother for goodness sakes." I exclaimed toward the void.
Nothing. Nothing came about of it. I was alone. I had no clue for how long. Even if time was a thing I never seemed hungry, thrifty or tired. Just in pain. No one but me. That was till my organs started to grow a human body around it becoming another me that is.
"Ah crud, I'm as ugly as a wrinkling skeleton. At least they smell good." I stated as my hand raised towards the nostrils. |
Mainly, there is something after death, but religions are wrong about it. | [WP] As an atheist, you always believed that there was nothing after death. After your last breath, you discover that you were wrong, but that no one else was right about what's after either. | My body was so weak. Everything hurt so much. But I was fine with it. I had lived a long and happy life, and now was simply the natural end to it. I knew that nothing would come after this, but I accepted it. My body was getting cold. I held my friends hand tight as the beeping started to get quieter and quieter and as my vision started to fade to black...
And then there was nothing.
Just... a void with my consciousness inside it.
It was like I had my eyes closed shut, but worse. I couldn't feel ANYTHING. No sound, no feeling, no nothing. I felt like I was nowhere. I was terrified. Was there something after death after all? Is this not it? And then something appeared in front of me. A single message, showing me what my new fate was, explaining equally as much as it raised questions- actually, it raised more. Because it read
"You can now play as Luigi" | "Well crap!" I said as my eyes opened. That chainsaw trap apparently DID work after all.
Looking around all I could see was a dark room filled with night and somehow stars all around me. I could see everything yet nothing.
"Okay the drugs did not mix well with the chainsaw or I'm dead. I thought it would be more... empty."
My eyes drifted down towards my body. But it wasn't mine. It was.. hard to explain. It was like I had the body of a child yet a fat man at the same time. Constantly shifting like a whirlpool at the laundromat. That is when I knew you could apparently throw up while dead as I quite literally spilt my guts out of my body. Staring at the juicy, blood red organs of my system I did the sane thing and promptly tried to faint. But I couldn't. I could smell and see the horrid mess I created but I could not sleep? Strange indeed.
"Hello! God? Satan? Anyone there! I will even take my mother for goodness sakes." I exclaimed toward the void.
Nothing. Nothing came about of it. I was alone. I had no clue for how long. Even if time was a thing I never seemed hungry, thrifty or tired. Just in pain. No one but me. That was till my organs started to grow a human body around it becoming another me that is.
"Ah crud, I'm as ugly as a wrinkling skeleton. At least they smell good." I stated as my hand raised towards the nostrils. |
Mainly, there is something after death, but religions are wrong about it. | [WP] As an atheist, you always believed that there was nothing after death. After your last breath, you discover that you were wrong, but that no one else was right about what's after either. | Time is weird. It always was, but now that I know the last minutes on this earth are ticking away, it feels even weirder. All my memories are here, now. The innocence of childhood, summers spent playing in the woods, swimming in the lake at my granpa's cottage. Learning to drive, falling in love again and again. It's all here now. For a second I can smell the drying pine needles warmed by the sun, glinting through the trees from when I got lost in the woods as a kid. And the strong cologne my dad used. Damn, I was barely three when he died. It's all here. All the time I've had, swirling and coming and going. I look at my wife for the first time, and I feel my heart skip a beat. I feel her body against mine, just like it was when we made love for the first time. All my regrets and the pain I've caused is here, too. I feel it, but I don't want to dwell on those things. I feel truely sorry for all the wrongs I've done, but I choose to drift away in the golden light of a life lived to the full. With the good and the bad. I've had a good life and now it's going away.
Time is weird. It always was. And now, while I lay here dying, time stitches the last threads on the tapestry of my life. I am there, a living witness for every event and yet, I am also here, watching it all fade away from me and becoming less and less familiar. In the end, life and death felt bitter sweet. Like falling in love in a dream and waking up sad and missing someone that was never really there. Then slowly forgetting all about it. This was my last thought. This was the moment of surrender and my last moment in time.
After a second of eternity and confusion I realize that time had stopped moving. "Wait, that's wrong. Isn't it?", I thought. I couldn't quite put my finger on the meaning or the concept of time anymore. It felt different than before... But what was there before? Before what? I felt confused. I did have a fleeting feeling that I used to be in time, but now that's just ridiculous! How could I be inside time, when it's just a tiny sphere, right here in fron of me. I have a strange understanding of it now. "It's My sphere", I say slowly and take closer look at the golden little sphere hovering in the void. It is beautiful and it feels complete. And then it explodes in to endless fractals.
"Complete..." I whisper to myself and giggle a little, "thats a funny word" I say and lean back on my lawn chair. "Wait! What!?" I shout startled and jerk back up. A wave of existential terror washes over me like an ice cold tsunami. "What the hell is going on, man" I ask to no one particular. I'm panicking, I don't known where I am or what I am. "I'm freaking out here, man!" I shout and try to grasp what the hell is going on. "I can't see shit!" I scream and try to stand up while trying to crasp the concept of "feet" and "standing" and "up". I hear a muffled voice calling me: "Chris, open your eyes, man! Chill dude, you're fine!". I know it's Aaron. I know him. "Holy fucking shit, I'm Chris!" I shout as I open my eyes to the scene of a setting sun, on a beach near the lake. "So, how was it?" Aaron ask's more amused than worried. "How was what?" I ask still confused and weirded out, chills runing through my spine. "What the everloving fuck just happened, dude? Did I do it? How long was I out?" I ask as the memories of being Chris slowly fill my mind. "Oh, about five minutes," Aaron says in a care free way and offers me a glass pipe: "wanna go again?" | It was a long night, but it ultimately ended in despair. David, a 30 year old atheist with an upstart career as a Lawyer, had unfortunately been murdered in his apartment. Paramedics arrived just about an hour after reports of someone breaking through the door, and he was DOA. As apart of his wishes, he was cremated and his ashes now reside in his girlfriends apartment. It was truly a sad day.
As an atheist, what came next was nothing short of….surprising. David slowly began to return to his senses, as if he had just woken up from an incredibly long power nap. After recollecting what exactly happened, his eyes shot straight open and he frantically looked around.
“Where the hell am I?! The hell is this?!” David called out in a panic. He seemed to be in a limo with a porcelain colored interior, nice leather seats and a big sun roof. Unfortunately, there was no sun. Only the emptiness of a white void.
“Ay’, watch the seats back there, that’s heated leather you’re puttin’ your dirty shoes on.”
Where did that voice come from? Whoever it was, it had a thick brooklyn accent and a rude tone. Like any stereotypical Italian-American. Didn’t those only exist in movies? The thoughts raced through David’s mind, until he finally traced it to the drivers seat of the limo, 5 meters ahead.
“A-Am I dead?!” The question sounded absurd, but in a time like this, David needed answers and he needed them now.
“Oh? We got a smart guy! How’d you come up with that?” The driver immediately replied, the window that separated the back of the limo from the front end was a thin tinted window, just dark enough that the driver couldn’t be seen.
It had only been a few minutes and this guy was already starting to get on David’s nerves. Typically, he had a low tolerance for anyone that talked back to him in a rude manner. There was no way he could be dead though, it simply wasn’t possible.
“I can’t be…what religion has a damn limo as their afterlife?! How is there even an afterlife?!” David’s voice was getting increasingly louder and louder, and understandably so.
“Woah, woah, woah, kid. First of all, watch ya’ mouth ‘round here. Second of all, who said this was the afterlife?”
“So it isn’t the afterlife?”
“Of course not, I don’t get paid enough to drive you people around limbo for eternity!” The driver let out a hearty cackle before finishing his sentence, the words coming from his mouth sounded like a borderline schizophrenic to David.
“Anyways, the ‘Afterlife’ is right here, here’s ya’ stop.”
“Fuck you.” David gave him a simple response.
The limo came to a sudden halt. According to the driver, this was the destination. Except, nothing could be seen. David peered through the multiple windows of the limousine and only saw a plain white void that seemed to go on for miles. After a few seconds of flaring panic in David’s chest, the tinted window rolled down slowly and the man slightly turned around in his seat. His face was shaded by the fedora that hung over his head, but it was clear he was wearing an incredibly expensive three-piece white suit. His voice suddenly broke the silence.
“They call me Charon, incase you ain’t know. This ride wasn’t free, I’m expectin’ a tip.”
…Charon? As in the Charon that rows people across the River Styx? David couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He was really paying a mythical figure, a person he refused to believe even existed in the first place. And maybe it was for the better, he really got on his nerves.
“I can’t exactly pay up right now, I’m a little pressed at the moment. Especially now that I’m dead.”
“Just reach into your pocket, kid.”
David did as he said and dug into both his pockets. His hands scraped against a cold material and wasted no time pulling it out. It was a simple danace, straight from Greece. Charon outstretched his hand to David and David paid up. Not even a single after he placed the small coin in Charon’s palm, the limousines door opened.
“Nice doin’ business, get out of my car.” Charon said in a hasty tone.
“Fine, fine.” David said. As long as he could get away from him, he was fine with getting ditched out in the middle of nowhere. Or atleast, what he assumed was the middle of nowhere.
David finally looked forwards and spotted a gigantic building that read ‘Afterlife’ in glowing characters. The building had at least 20 stories and millions of glowing lights on it, akin to something you’d see in Las Vegas. It looked out of place compared to the white void around them, like someone took something from the real world and decided to drop it here.
David took a deep breath and began his way into the building. He entered through the revolving door and saw millions upon millions of people. It looked like something straight out of a 30s gangster movie; people dressed in white pinstriped suits, fedoras, gambling tables, anything you’d expect from a casino.
After glancing around the white structure of the building in amazement, David made his way to a desk in the far corner of the building.
“Hello! Welcome to Afterlife Plaza, how can I help you?”
This is the last thing David expected to see, and hear. Before this, he was sure that the afterlife simply didn’t exist and most people that preached it were out of their minds. This placed a completely different outlook on him, one that he didn’t see coming for miles.
After finally entering the main hall of the Plaza, the first thing that caught his eye were two rivaling cliques. All of the men had ribbons strapped across their arm, all of which with matching logos to their respective religions. As David made his way deeper and deeper into the Casino, he bumped into a gang of hardcore Christians. His ribbon signified he was an Atheist.
David knew this wasn’t gonna end well. |
Mainly, there is something after death, but religions are wrong about it. | [WP] As an atheist, you always believed that there was nothing after death. After your last breath, you discover that you were wrong, but that no one else was right about what's after either. | “Hello?” I said confused. I was on a beach alone in silence with nothing but pink sand and a calm indigo colored ocean in front of me. Mist covered the ocean in the distance, I looked around the beach and noticed mist surrounded me on all sides. The sky was purple and blue and filled with so many stars, the most I’ve ever seen. It was a beautiful, yet eerie beach. “How did I get here?” I asked myself. The last thing I remember was arguing with my mom on my phone in the car.
I sat down in the sand and ran my finger’s through the fine pink sand. I lifted some sand and let it fall to the ground. I was thinking of my dog, she was in the car with me too. As the sand hit the ground, it bounced off the other sand and floated in the air. The floating pink sand started spinning around kicking more sand into the air. I stood up as the sand started form together in the shape of a dog.
“What’s going on?” I said as I curiously stared at the pink dog made of sand. I looked closer and realized that it looked like Mortice, my lab. The sand dog sat down and stared at me. “Are you alive?” I yelled in surprise.
The pink sand dog shook itself like it was wet, pink sand flew off the dog revealing its off white fur beneath the sand. Mortice was there in front of me as his normal self. I dropped too my knees and gave my dog a hug. Mortice jumped up and put his paws on my shoulders licking my face. “Is it really you? I’m so glad you’re here!” I yelled in happiness.
Mortice jumped down and stared at me, then said, “kind of... and thanks.” My jaw dropped. “How can you speak?”
“I can only speak here if you let me.”
“Whoa, how did we get here?”
“How did we get here... well, we died.”
“No. But... but...” I sat down in disbelief. “We can’t be, but,” I remembered the accident, I was yelling at my mom on the phone when a truck hit me. If she didn’t call me to pick a fight with me...
“There was so much I wanted to do.” I said angered.
“Where am I? Heaven? Hell? Other? I thought there was nothing when we died.”
“This place? Hmmm, I guess I call this place, The Sandbox.”
“Is this all there is?” I asked, as I looked around the foggy beach. It seemed the fog was getting thicker.
“No. Maybe. I’m not sure, I think it’s up to you.”
“Okay.” I said, disappointed.
I sat on beach and thought about my short life, 23 years. When I was 18, I thought I’d be rich by now. Nothing but hardships, failures, and suffering, I knew there was no god. No being could allow humans to exist how they are. I started to run through all my past scenarios in my head, the regrets and things I would’ve done differently if I could. I ran my hands through the pink sand again and picked some up. I thought about my parents house, where I lived in the basement. I dropped the sand on the ground and then the ground began to shake.
I ran away from the shaking sand on the ground. Pink sand suspended in the air and started to float up, first a few specs, then a massive amount quickly burst up from the ground in the shape of a house. When the sand finished its form, sand started to fall off the sides revealing the colors and wood that made the house. It was my house.
I quickly ran into my house as Mortice followed. I was surprised to see the inside was exactly what I remembered. I quickly ran down to my room in the basement. I jumped into my bed and Mortice jumped in with me. I felt like I was home.
“Can I create anything I want with the sand?” I asked Mortice.
“I don’t know, I think so, anything from your mind as you remember it.”
“Haha, wow that’s so cool.” I said. I grabbed my remote for my TV and turned it on. “Haha, wow even the TV works.” I continued to look around my room and marveled at how it seemed to be an exact copy of what I remembered.
“Can I ask you something?” Mortice asked me.
“Yea of course, anything now that you can talk!”
“Why did you get me?”
...part 1 | It was a long night, but it ultimately ended in despair. David, a 30 year old atheist with an upstart career as a Lawyer, had unfortunately been murdered in his apartment. Paramedics arrived just about an hour after reports of someone breaking through the door, and he was DOA. As apart of his wishes, he was cremated and his ashes now reside in his girlfriends apartment. It was truly a sad day.
As an atheist, what came next was nothing short of….surprising. David slowly began to return to his senses, as if he had just woken up from an incredibly long power nap. After recollecting what exactly happened, his eyes shot straight open and he frantically looked around.
“Where the hell am I?! The hell is this?!” David called out in a panic. He seemed to be in a limo with a porcelain colored interior, nice leather seats and a big sun roof. Unfortunately, there was no sun. Only the emptiness of a white void.
“Ay’, watch the seats back there, that’s heated leather you’re puttin’ your dirty shoes on.”
Where did that voice come from? Whoever it was, it had a thick brooklyn accent and a rude tone. Like any stereotypical Italian-American. Didn’t those only exist in movies? The thoughts raced through David’s mind, until he finally traced it to the drivers seat of the limo, 5 meters ahead.
“A-Am I dead?!” The question sounded absurd, but in a time like this, David needed answers and he needed them now.
“Oh? We got a smart guy! How’d you come up with that?” The driver immediately replied, the window that separated the back of the limo from the front end was a thin tinted window, just dark enough that the driver couldn’t be seen.
It had only been a few minutes and this guy was already starting to get on David’s nerves. Typically, he had a low tolerance for anyone that talked back to him in a rude manner. There was no way he could be dead though, it simply wasn’t possible.
“I can’t be…what religion has a damn limo as their afterlife?! How is there even an afterlife?!” David’s voice was getting increasingly louder and louder, and understandably so.
“Woah, woah, woah, kid. First of all, watch ya’ mouth ‘round here. Second of all, who said this was the afterlife?”
“So it isn’t the afterlife?”
“Of course not, I don’t get paid enough to drive you people around limbo for eternity!” The driver let out a hearty cackle before finishing his sentence, the words coming from his mouth sounded like a borderline schizophrenic to David.
“Anyways, the ‘Afterlife’ is right here, here’s ya’ stop.”
“Fuck you.” David gave him a simple response.
The limo came to a sudden halt. According to the driver, this was the destination. Except, nothing could be seen. David peered through the multiple windows of the limousine and only saw a plain white void that seemed to go on for miles. After a few seconds of flaring panic in David’s chest, the tinted window rolled down slowly and the man slightly turned around in his seat. His face was shaded by the fedora that hung over his head, but it was clear he was wearing an incredibly expensive three-piece white suit. His voice suddenly broke the silence.
“They call me Charon, incase you ain’t know. This ride wasn’t free, I’m expectin’ a tip.”
…Charon? As in the Charon that rows people across the River Styx? David couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He was really paying a mythical figure, a person he refused to believe even existed in the first place. And maybe it was for the better, he really got on his nerves.
“I can’t exactly pay up right now, I’m a little pressed at the moment. Especially now that I’m dead.”
“Just reach into your pocket, kid.”
David did as he said and dug into both his pockets. His hands scraped against a cold material and wasted no time pulling it out. It was a simple danace, straight from Greece. Charon outstretched his hand to David and David paid up. Not even a single after he placed the small coin in Charon’s palm, the limousines door opened.
“Nice doin’ business, get out of my car.” Charon said in a hasty tone.
“Fine, fine.” David said. As long as he could get away from him, he was fine with getting ditched out in the middle of nowhere. Or atleast, what he assumed was the middle of nowhere.
David finally looked forwards and spotted a gigantic building that read ‘Afterlife’ in glowing characters. The building had at least 20 stories and millions of glowing lights on it, akin to something you’d see in Las Vegas. It looked out of place compared to the white void around them, like someone took something from the real world and decided to drop it here.
David took a deep breath and began his way into the building. He entered through the revolving door and saw millions upon millions of people. It looked like something straight out of a 30s gangster movie; people dressed in white pinstriped suits, fedoras, gambling tables, anything you’d expect from a casino.
After glancing around the white structure of the building in amazement, David made his way to a desk in the far corner of the building.
“Hello! Welcome to Afterlife Plaza, how can I help you?”
This is the last thing David expected to see, and hear. Before this, he was sure that the afterlife simply didn’t exist and most people that preached it were out of their minds. This placed a completely different outlook on him, one that he didn’t see coming for miles.
After finally entering the main hall of the Plaza, the first thing that caught his eye were two rivaling cliques. All of the men had ribbons strapped across their arm, all of which with matching logos to their respective religions. As David made his way deeper and deeper into the Casino, he bumped into a gang of hardcore Christians. His ribbon signified he was an Atheist.
David knew this wasn’t gonna end well. |
Mainly, there is something after death, but religions are wrong about it. | [WP] As an atheist, you always believed that there was nothing after death. After your last breath, you discover that you were wrong, but that no one else was right about what's after either. | “Hello?” I said confused. I was on a beach alone in silence with nothing but pink sand and a calm indigo colored ocean in front of me. Mist covered the ocean in the distance, I looked around the beach and noticed mist surrounded me on all sides. The sky was purple and blue and filled with so many stars, the most I’ve ever seen. It was a beautiful, yet eerie beach. “How did I get here?” I asked myself. The last thing I remember was arguing with my mom on my phone in the car.
I sat down in the sand and ran my finger’s through the fine pink sand. I lifted some sand and let it fall to the ground. I was thinking of my dog, she was in the car with me too. As the sand hit the ground, it bounced off the other sand and floated in the air. The floating pink sand started spinning around kicking more sand into the air. I stood up as the sand started form together in the shape of a dog.
“What’s going on?” I said as I curiously stared at the pink dog made of sand. I looked closer and realized that it looked like Mortice, my lab. The sand dog sat down and stared at me. “Are you alive?” I yelled in surprise.
The pink sand dog shook itself like it was wet, pink sand flew off the dog revealing its off white fur beneath the sand. Mortice was there in front of me as his normal self. I dropped too my knees and gave my dog a hug. Mortice jumped up and put his paws on my shoulders licking my face. “Is it really you? I’m so glad you’re here!” I yelled in happiness.
Mortice jumped down and stared at me, then said, “kind of... and thanks.” My jaw dropped. “How can you speak?”
“I can only speak here if you let me.”
“Whoa, how did we get here?”
“How did we get here... well, we died.”
“No. But... but...” I sat down in disbelief. “We can’t be, but,” I remembered the accident, I was yelling at my mom on the phone when a truck hit me. If she didn’t call me to pick a fight with me...
“There was so much I wanted to do.” I said angered.
“Where am I? Heaven? Hell? Other? I thought there was nothing when we died.”
“This place? Hmmm, I guess I call this place, The Sandbox.”
“Is this all there is?” I asked, as I looked around the foggy beach. It seemed the fog was getting thicker.
“No. Maybe. I’m not sure, I think it’s up to you.”
“Okay.” I said, disappointed.
I sat on beach and thought about my short life, 23 years. When I was 18, I thought I’d be rich by now. Nothing but hardships, failures, and suffering, I knew there was no god. No being could allow humans to exist how they are. I started to run through all my past scenarios in my head, the regrets and things I would’ve done differently if I could. I ran my hands through the pink sand again and picked some up. I thought about my parents house, where I lived in the basement. I dropped the sand on the ground and then the ground began to shake.
I ran away from the shaking sand on the ground. Pink sand suspended in the air and started to float up, first a few specs, then a massive amount quickly burst up from the ground in the shape of a house. When the sand finished its form, sand started to fall off the sides revealing the colors and wood that made the house. It was my house.
I quickly ran into my house as Mortice followed. I was surprised to see the inside was exactly what I remembered. I quickly ran down to my room in the basement. I jumped into my bed and Mortice jumped in with me. I felt like I was home.
“Can I create anything I want with the sand?” I asked Mortice.
“I don’t know, I think so, anything from your mind as you remember it.”
“Haha, wow that’s so cool.” I said. I grabbed my remote for my TV and turned it on. “Haha, wow even the TV works.” I continued to look around my room and marveled at how it seemed to be an exact copy of what I remembered.
“Can I ask you something?” Mortice asked me.
“Yea of course, anything now that you can talk!”
“Why did you get me?”
...part 1 | "It's dark" I think quietly to myself yet I hear the words as if I spoke them. "What happened, where am I?" I say out loud without my mouth moving. The sound of my voice; a booming echo; as if it cascaded across thousands of surfaces for miles. I recoil expecting my ears to ring with pain but they don't.
In fact I can't feel anything, it's as if my body isn't there at all. I try in vain to look or even feel around where I am to no avail. I think back to the last thing I remember. Pain, an excruciating pain over my entire body, a bright light, and then... I was here. Before the pain I can think of nothing, my memories draw a blank. I have feelings though, as if an echo of a memory is still present. Happiness, sorrow, loathing, love, and strongest of all fear.
The horrifying realization washes over me. "I'm dead" I think softly, the words quivering in my mind as if I haven't quite grasped the idea. "OH FUCK I'M DEAD" the words screaming out of me in a cacophony of my own horror and dread. I don't know how long I spent panicking while my thoughts screamed out into nothing.
I spent too long on this realization, and as I finally got ahold of myself I asked "If I'm dead then is this purgatory?", my own voice answering itself. In life I never believed in such things as an afterlife or purgatory. Even without the memories of my life, who I was in life remains who I am, rejecting the idea as quickly as it came. I suddenly feel a change though, it's hard to describe what the change was exactly.
I have not been able to feel a thing yet now I can feel that I am neither cold nor warm. It's a pleasant feeling and sets my mind at ease, "Feels like home" I say but this time without an echo. All at once I hear a low buzzing sound and the darkness begins to fade. As the darkness fades the buzzing becomes louder almost transposing into voices. I hear my laughter, words, sobs, and coughing. It sounds like a symphony, like all the voices of my life are parading around me in an orchestration.
I see it, my life, it passes by in mere moments but I have all the time in the world to take it all in. It's beautiful, every moment of my life harmonizing into who I am. Then the memories end, my death was not very climactic or heroic but it was my death non the less. The end of the story, of my life, "I could live in these memories forever, or I could start anew" I say as if reading from the thoughts of another.
What a choice to have, both are alluring, I wonder what I'll choose. |
Mainly, there is something after death, but religions are wrong about it. | [WP] As an atheist, you always believed that there was nothing after death. After your last breath, you discover that you were wrong, but that no one else was right about what's after either. | “Hello?” I said confused. I was on a beach alone in silence with nothing but pink sand and a calm indigo colored ocean in front of me. Mist covered the ocean in the distance, I looked around the beach and noticed mist surrounded me on all sides. The sky was purple and blue and filled with so many stars, the most I’ve ever seen. It was a beautiful, yet eerie beach. “How did I get here?” I asked myself. The last thing I remember was arguing with my mom on my phone in the car.
I sat down in the sand and ran my finger’s through the fine pink sand. I lifted some sand and let it fall to the ground. I was thinking of my dog, she was in the car with me too. As the sand hit the ground, it bounced off the other sand and floated in the air. The floating pink sand started spinning around kicking more sand into the air. I stood up as the sand started form together in the shape of a dog.
“What’s going on?” I said as I curiously stared at the pink dog made of sand. I looked closer and realized that it looked like Mortice, my lab. The sand dog sat down and stared at me. “Are you alive?” I yelled in surprise.
The pink sand dog shook itself like it was wet, pink sand flew off the dog revealing its off white fur beneath the sand. Mortice was there in front of me as his normal self. I dropped too my knees and gave my dog a hug. Mortice jumped up and put his paws on my shoulders licking my face. “Is it really you? I’m so glad you’re here!” I yelled in happiness.
Mortice jumped down and stared at me, then said, “kind of... and thanks.” My jaw dropped. “How can you speak?”
“I can only speak here if you let me.”
“Whoa, how did we get here?”
“How did we get here... well, we died.”
“No. But... but...” I sat down in disbelief. “We can’t be, but,” I remembered the accident, I was yelling at my mom on the phone when a truck hit me. If she didn’t call me to pick a fight with me...
“There was so much I wanted to do.” I said angered.
“Where am I? Heaven? Hell? Other? I thought there was nothing when we died.”
“This place? Hmmm, I guess I call this place, The Sandbox.”
“Is this all there is?” I asked, as I looked around the foggy beach. It seemed the fog was getting thicker.
“No. Maybe. I’m not sure, I think it’s up to you.”
“Okay.” I said, disappointed.
I sat on beach and thought about my short life, 23 years. When I was 18, I thought I’d be rich by now. Nothing but hardships, failures, and suffering, I knew there was no god. No being could allow humans to exist how they are. I started to run through all my past scenarios in my head, the regrets and things I would’ve done differently if I could. I ran my hands through the pink sand again and picked some up. I thought about my parents house, where I lived in the basement. I dropped the sand on the ground and then the ground began to shake.
I ran away from the shaking sand on the ground. Pink sand suspended in the air and started to float up, first a few specs, then a massive amount quickly burst up from the ground in the shape of a house. When the sand finished its form, sand started to fall off the sides revealing the colors and wood that made the house. It was my house.
I quickly ran into my house as Mortice followed. I was surprised to see the inside was exactly what I remembered. I quickly ran down to my room in the basement. I jumped into my bed and Mortice jumped in with me. I felt like I was home.
“Can I create anything I want with the sand?” I asked Mortice.
“I don’t know, I think so, anything from your mind as you remember it.”
“Haha, wow that’s so cool.” I said. I grabbed my remote for my TV and turned it on. “Haha, wow even the TV works.” I continued to look around my room and marveled at how it seemed to be an exact copy of what I remembered.
“Can I ask you something?” Mortice asked me.
“Yea of course, anything now that you can talk!”
“Why did you get me?”
...part 1 | Have you guys ever seen The Matrix? You know how Neil wakes up in that vat of red liquid when he disconnects and takes the red pill? Well the afterlife is sort of like that.
I've never been a believer in many things. All the world's religions never really appealed to me. All let's talk about how God loves you and all the creation stories from around the world and all the holy rolling... Well it's nice to see I've been right about one thing. They're all BS.
I woke up in a vat of green liquid. There were tubes all over my body. Wires were connected to my brain. Everything was eerily the same as the matrix. What was interesting though is that I was a white female but in "life" I was a hispanic male. I didn't have time to contemplate my new existence. I knew I was me, and I knew I had to get out of this vat.
It seemed like there was a detection system for this event. Several things floated over to where I was struggling to sit up. There were some kind of mechanical floaty robots as well as people on jetpacks. A robot immediately started the drain sequence on my that and all the people who came over started cutting the wires and the tubes to get me free. And as they were doing this I had time to look around.
There were possibly billions of other vats. Some were getting the same treatment I was. Still others have had people inside them. All of them did. What was interesting about them was some had growing humans inside. The one next to mine had a developing human torso with a fully developed adult head. I noticed my eyes were incredibly clear once I got all the muck out of them.
The people helping me were silent on everything except for one. She told me that everything would be explained in time. I didn't press.
The robots cradled me gently as they took me to a tram. This tram had a built-in shower and attendants washed me, dried me, and gave me some surprisingly comfortable army surplus looking shirts and pants. Apparently I would have time later to pick out other clothes but for now they should do until I had time to pick out ones I actually wanted. It was also about this time that I learned how long my hair was. It must have been about 8 ft long. It was straight and blonde, a color I've always liked. Nice.
The tram took us to a sort of terminal area. A man was standing by with scissors in case I wanted to get this mass cut off of the back of my head. All I did was not and he cut it down to my shoulders. He explained to me that I could get it cleaned up later and that I needed to move. Another tram was coming.
This terminal was incredibly busy. People were being ushered through at incredible rates. People of all shapes and sizes likely who spent their collective consciousnesses in different parts of the world and are also newly departed from said life just like me. I grew up in New York City so this terminal was a familiar sight, but to plenty of people that I took sight of, it was completely alien to them.
My guides brought me to a terminal desk. The strawberry blonde attendant looked bored but happy to see someone like me. It is here that I would be learning where to go next. I was instructed to place my hand on to a sensor. I guess depending on what it reads it will tell me where I'm going. No sooner had I placed my hand on this device a screen showed me a number. 2-A. Once this disappeared, the young lady printed me a card that looked like a bus pass. I took it, thanked her and left with my guides.
A man handing bags out gave me a backpack to stuff all of my extra stuff in which I was grateful for. I was still holding the other clothes I was given. Card in hand I made my way to the next part of the terminal. I showed the attendant at the door my card and he told me which way to go. My guides helped me get there. I'll be honest I'm not exactly sure where I'm being led to but I'm imagining it's where I'm going to be for the rest of eternity.
My guides noticed that I was thinking about this. They turned me and say "We are leading you to the place where you are going to spend eternity. It's a house. More will be explained later."
The 2-A train stares me in the face as soon as my guides stop talking. My guides push me on the train which is surprisingly empty. I show the attendant my card and he brings me to my seat, a private cabin towards the rear of the train. It looks like one of those Pullman cars from back in the day. The attendant says for me to keep the card as it will identify me should the need arise. The need of course did arise five minutes later. The train conductor scanned my card, smiled, and said "welcome aboard Mr. Hernandez. Or should I say 'miss'. Says here you have been given that body as an experiment. I'll give you this buzzer to the kitchen. You feel free to get to know yourself."
I am hungry so I press the button. No sooner did I press it an attendant knocks on my door to take my order. "What would you like, Miss Hernandez?"
"Two things: Philly cheese steak with gravy and chili with a large coca cola. And an explanation."
"What would you like to know?"
"What do the conductor mean when he said that I was part of an experiment?"
"Your file says you were an atheist. You didn't really think much about the afterlife. There are several other experiments going on that are being done on atheists. You simply are part of one of many. Your particular experiment is receiving an entirely different body from what you're used to. As to why atheists are being tested on these things is that they have no biases. They are the control group and the test group."
"This is all happening so fast. Thanks for letting me know."
"It's supposed to be fast, but now you can take time to relax. Your food will be out soon." With that I was left alone. A digital display on the wall states how much time is left in my journey. Three days, two hours, 1 minute. Wait, three *Days*?
Maybe I can see what else is on this train... No. Slow down, Hernandez. This is the afterlife. Things are spread out. Drink it in. I take a deep breath and... Smell my food. I turn around and it's there, steaming and ready to eat. Good. I'm famished.
The bathroom in my train car is fully fitted out. Shower, bath, toilet, sink... The works. This entire car is bigger than my apartment. I just wonder what my house is going to be. I hope it's nice like this train car.
...
So bored. I miss my NES. Contra sounds good right now. Two days and three hours left.
...
I slept for a good ten hours, and now I'm hungry again. Could go for a steak. But what if I need to pay for it? All of this?
A piece of paper slips beneath the door. "there's no money here. Do not worry. -The Management"
Creepy. Do they hear my thoughts? See me?
Another note: "we hear your thoughts. Even the lewd ones. We've been at this millions of years. We've literally seen it all. Don't worry about us. -The Management"
...
One day, two hours left. I've had so much steak.
...
Two hours. Time to clean myself. I'll clean the car as best I can too.
...
Five minutes. And done. I'm clean, car's clean. I might also... know a bit more about myself.
I scan my card as I leave and some attendants come to lead me. I'm led past buses and taxis to my limo. I sit, buckle in, and wait. My driver rolls the divider down. "your card. Scan it." I comply. "perfect. 11 Wendigo Avenue. You're in the rich-lands, newbie."
We pass by places of... Varying social status. My driver points out to me the kinds of people that live in them. In the shanties, immoral people and criminals. In the low-income housing, the rich. Suburbia, average people of no significance. High-income housing, working class and the poor. Gated mansions, experiments, people who made the ultimate sacrifice and the eternally humble. I was going to a mansion. |
Mainly, there is something after death, but religions are wrong about it. | [WP] As an atheist, you always believed that there was nothing after death. After your last breath, you discover that you were wrong, but that no one else was right about what's after either. | The sun was setting between the hills as I pushed the barrel of the gun against my head. Such a beautiful world, yet entirely pointless. To live was a constant struggle that was made seem worthwhile through fleeting miniscule pleasures. No more. Welcome sweet nothingness.
I squeeze the trigger.
Bizarre shapes cloud my vision and slowly grow into unreal sharpness. Surely this was a death dream, nothing so absurd could actually exist.
Two cartoony children were fiddlimg with what looked like a glowing iPad. Their heads were disproportionately larger than their bodies and their features were straight out of various animated movies I'd seen.
"Papa, Papa what do we watch next? This one was boring" said the younger of the two, who looked like a baby Elsa. "Yeah, it was all mopey and slow moving, like we get it, you don't like your life" said the other one shaped like a child Po panda from Kung Fu panda. I try to rub my eyes, only to find I don't have them. This was no dream, I could see each individual hair on Po's adorable belly.
A stomping that shakes my vision introduces a large dragon that booms, "Now, now children, if you only ever watch the fun ones, you'll stop appreciating the sad and boring parts of life. It's how different the two experiences are that make life worth living. Now put this one back in its case carefully and play the next one. You know that we have play them all for the characters to come together and recreate us in their world."
"Yes papa, I really love it when we have to figure out the tiny things each one accidentally causes to make the movie finally come together. I think the one we just watched was eating pies in a karate costume and that's where the guy who writes my movie gets the idea from." says Po.
"Maybe" winks the dragon playfully.
"But papa do the humans know they're all just movies we made? They look so real, it feels mean to play them over and over." asks tiny Elsa, widening her saucer like eyes adorably.
"Don't worry sweetie, they're just physical objects, they're not really alive. Everyone knows all living things exist digitally. They just look like they feel things but they don't really feel anything." says the dragon as the lid on the case shuts, enveloping me in darkness.
"What if they do feel things, in ways that we don't understand?"
"Well then, the humans had it coming, they make digital versions of us to play for themselves too and they don't think twice about it" | As my head hit the concrete, bullets flying all around me, I felt a strange sort of peace. Lying there in an ever-increasing pool of my own blood, the prospect of facing death seemed rather unalarming. It was not a scary proposition, rather something that seemed like a natural next step. I had never been a big believer in god or religion, so as I lay there I said my goodbyes and waited for the eternal abyss to take me.
However, the longer I lay there the more I realized something had to be wrong. I no longer felt the pain from my gunshot wounds and the sound of gunfire was replaced by a babbling brook. As I looked around I noticed that my surroundings had changed too. I was no longer in the city, instead, I was surrounded by trees taller than any I had ever seen before, with massive vines draping down from them. Every surface I looked at was covered with moss and there was not a building in sight. I decided to explore this unfamiliar territory, and, having been a boy-scout earlier in my heyday, I decided to follow the brook, as I knew it had to be my best chance of finding some sort of life.
As I walked along the brook, I observed many tiny creatures crawling along the jungle floor. Some of the creatures I recognized immediately, crickets and cockroaches, while others were quite alien, horrific beasts with 4 heads and far too many arms and legs to support their minuscule bodies. However, all of the insects were going in one direction, following the brook, which I took as a sign that I was going in the right direction, whatever that meant. I had walked about a half mile before I first heard it, a screech that sounded particularly human, one of pain and fear.
I immediately started to run towards the sound, hoping that maybe there was another person stuck in this place with me, but I quickly realized that I had no idea where the sound had come from, and even worse, I had lost the brook that had led me thus far. If that wasn't bad enough, the sun was beginning to set and the number of foreign animal sounds I was hearing began to increase drastically until it seemed like the whole jungle was alive and moving. Everywhere I turned I heard the scurrying of feet and the screeching of some animal.
Kinda trying to go to bed now but I'll finish it later if anyone is interested. |
Mainly, there is something after death, but religions are wrong about it. | [WP] As an atheist, you always believed that there was nothing after death. After your last breath, you discover that you were wrong, but that no one else was right about what's after either. | My body was so weak. Everything hurt so much. But I was fine with it. I had lived a long and happy life, and now was simply the natural end to it. I knew that nothing would come after this, but I accepted it. My body was getting cold. I held my friends hand tight as the beeping started to get quieter and quieter and as my vision started to fade to black...
And then there was nothing.
Just... a void with my consciousness inside it.
It was like I had my eyes closed shut, but worse. I couldn't feel ANYTHING. No sound, no feeling, no nothing. I felt like I was nowhere. I was terrified. Was there something after death after all? Is this not it? And then something appeared in front of me. A single message, showing me what my new fate was, explaining equally as much as it raised questions- actually, it raised more. Because it read
"You can now play as Luigi" | As my head hit the concrete, bullets flying all around me, I felt a strange sort of peace. Lying there in an ever-increasing pool of my own blood, the prospect of facing death seemed rather unalarming. It was not a scary proposition, rather something that seemed like a natural next step. I had never been a big believer in god or religion, so as I lay there I said my goodbyes and waited for the eternal abyss to take me.
However, the longer I lay there the more I realized something had to be wrong. I no longer felt the pain from my gunshot wounds and the sound of gunfire was replaced by a babbling brook. As I looked around I noticed that my surroundings had changed too. I was no longer in the city, instead, I was surrounded by trees taller than any I had ever seen before, with massive vines draping down from them. Every surface I looked at was covered with moss and there was not a building in sight. I decided to explore this unfamiliar territory, and, having been a boy-scout earlier in my heyday, I decided to follow the brook, as I knew it had to be my best chance of finding some sort of life.
As I walked along the brook, I observed many tiny creatures crawling along the jungle floor. Some of the creatures I recognized immediately, crickets and cockroaches, while others were quite alien, horrific beasts with 4 heads and far too many arms and legs to support their minuscule bodies. However, all of the insects were going in one direction, following the brook, which I took as a sign that I was going in the right direction, whatever that meant. I had walked about a half mile before I first heard it, a screech that sounded particularly human, one of pain and fear.
I immediately started to run towards the sound, hoping that maybe there was another person stuck in this place with me, but I quickly realized that I had no idea where the sound had come from, and even worse, I had lost the brook that had led me thus far. If that wasn't bad enough, the sun was beginning to set and the number of foreign animal sounds I was hearing began to increase drastically until it seemed like the whole jungle was alive and moving. Everywhere I turned I heard the scurrying of feet and the screeching of some animal.
Kinda trying to go to bed now but I'll finish it later if anyone is interested. |
Mainly, there is something after death, but religions are wrong about it. | [WP] As an atheist, you always believed that there was nothing after death. After your last breath, you discover that you were wrong, but that no one else was right about what's after either. | I was in a coma. I was in a hospital bed, but I could not move my body, no matter what I tried to do. But I could hear the beeping of the health monitor near me, I could feel the oxygen mask in my face, the needles in my arm. Whenever my family visited, I could hear them, I could hear my wife telling me to come back, to wake up. My son talking to me, about his studies, and how he misses me. I could hear and feel it all.
I don’t know... I could not know how for how long this lasted, but it was long enough. Long enough for me to think and pray, pray for this to stop, pray for me to wake up, pray so that I could say... something, anything. As time passed, I stopped praying and instead I cursed the heavens and hell, ask why would God let this happen to me? Was I not pious enough? Were the people I helped all my life not enough for you? Were my prayers just me shouting at nothing?
As more time passed, stopped caring about God. If God was real, this would never have happened to me. If God was real, this would never happen to anyone. Then, why IS is happening? The only explanation is that God is not real, never was real. God is dead.
But time did not pass only for me. My wife and son were in the room with me, I could feel them there, right next to me. But this time things were different, this time they were silent. It was only when the doctor came that I heard something.
“Miss Davis? I know this must be hard for you and your son, so please, take as much time as you need. When you are ready, we can begin.”
I knew what was coming, all those television programs and movies that I watched made me realise this. I was going to die today. I could not move, I could not speak, I could do absolutely nothing, I could only wait. And I waited, until...
“Please, we are ready. Stop his suffering.”
After my wife said that the doctor turned off the machines that kept me alive. I am going to die today, but unfortunately, I did not die straight away. As soon as they were turned off, I stopped breathing. I could not control my body, so obviously, I could not breathe. No matter what I tried I could not get air in my lungs. I could feel it on my face, on my body, it was RIGHT THERE, all I needed to do was to breathe it in. But I could not.
I don’t know how long it has been, maybe 5 minutes or 5 hours, I just know that I am dead. Then... why can I still think? Is this the afterlife? Is this heaven? I opened my eyes, and I saw a big room, filled with computers, monitors, server racks and... scientists? Heaven has scientists? And where am I, why am I up so high? Who put me here? I had a top-down view of the entire room, and I could only move my head slowly. But something caught my attention, on the far end of the room, was a monitor, a big monitor. A lot of red text was flowing up through the monitor, like a chat log on. And for a split second I could see it, ‘John Davis has died. Cause: Suffocation’ before it vanished in the sea of text.
“What...” I tried to say, but nothing came out, no voice, no noise, nothing. “Hello? Can ayone hear me? Why can’t I speak?” I tried again, but this time something happened in the room. I couldn’t hear anything, but I could see some flashing red lights, the scientists jumped from fright and they all looked at the big monitor. In there I could also see the words that I just tried to say.
“What is going on? Who are you people, what have you done to me?” I tried to speak again, but instead; it was only typed in the monitor. The scientists began talking to each other, but I could hear nothing. Instead, an older looking man in an expensive looking suit said something, everyone gave way to him. He must be the boss of this place. He went to the big screen with a microphone and plugged it into something.
As soon as it was plugged in, I could hear everything that was going on. I could hear people talking, I could head the alarm in the room, and most important, I could hear the announcement voice “EXPERIMENT SUCCESFUL! CONSCIOUSNESS ACHIEVED! EXPERIMENT SUCCESFUL! CONSCIOUSNESS....” repeating over and over again. The older man then spoke on the microphone:
“Ahem... Hello, my name is Riddle Husion, owner and CEO of the Spark A.I. company, and you are the first artificial consciousness ever produced, may I know your name, if you have one?” | Fade IN
A blonde man finds himself naked on a wide diving board / platform. Looking at his feet he sees there is a trap door in it, he glances over the edge of the platform into what seems a grand canyon, an abyss falling and slightly curving downward to the smallest looking of little black dots.
He feels no wind.
He looks to his left and sees a naked woman just a meter away on her own platform, she does not look back and beyond her another young man on a platform, and beyond him a sheep, then a snake, then a parrot, then a baby, then another man.
One after the other on individual platforms , stretching away as far as his eyes could see and seeming to consists of every living thing he had ever seen or read about in nature books.
Somehow he thought it seemed to go so far away that it curved around, the most imperceptible of curves.
He looked to his right and there a meter away was a man, also naked, and beyond him even more people and more forms of animals, just as he saw to his left, all on platforms with trap doors. And there too , as far as his eye could see, was that curve again.
And in the distance something falling from its platform, and others some closer some further away, all falling, no screams, no noise, just these humans and creatures falling through their trapdoors falling down to the black dot below , their form on the platform being immediately replaced by another .
And continuously like snow, endlessly, men, women, children, animals falling being replaced by more all falling.
He realised "were all standing on the edge of this giant chute" !? . He tries to balance back, recoiling from what he has realised, but he can't move his feet are fixed to the trapdoor.
Suddenly from his right The man standing there says " first time " ? quizzically and smiles.
Don't worry dude , first time is like that for all of us, its a shock to see this place, to realise your here.
Where is here the blonde man said?
Your dead said he man on his right, this is where we get processed.
Processed said the blonde man, ! processed into what !?
Into ideas, said the man on his right, when someone in the living world has an idea that no one ever had before one of us who is dead is used up and.....
Before finishing his sentence the man on his right fell through his trapdoor. The blonde man stood and watched until he could no longer make out the form of the man who had been on his right and he had joined the flow of the falling like a gentle dust settling on moving stream.
The blonde man turned his head to see if the woman on the left was still there, he had questions, but as his head turned his own trap door opened and the blonde man fell.
As he fell he noticed again that he felt no wind, He saw more beings and animals fall around him, above him , bumped into them, saw their calm faces, some were smiling, and the blonde man smiled also.
I'm about to be the fuel for an idea that no one has ever had before he realised, He felt a warm glow of happiness and joy, he felt a bliss fill him from within as he fell toward the black dot.
At moment the blonde man hit the black dot, a young boy in the realm of the living thought...
"*Are there stargates at the bottom of the ocean, and that's where fish come through from far away alien fish planets, and on those alien fishy worlds, are their ongoing political crisis because of the vast numbers of their explorers who never return from their stargate project ? And if a fisherman managed to raise one of them stargates, they could just hang it over a vat and collect the fish right ?* |
Mainly, there is something after death, but religions are wrong about it. | [WP] As an atheist, you always believed that there was nothing after death. After your last breath, you discover that you were wrong, but that no one else was right about what's after either. |
I should be dead. I remember how each breath from my withered mouth drew in less air, how my aching body grew too weak to support itself. I remember those final moments leading up to the sweet release of death.
I know I died. So why am I still alive?
At least, I think I'm alive. I'm certainly not dead.
I think I'm a disembodied consciousness. My physical senses are totally gone. I don't really feel anything, but I can almost trick myself into thinking I have a body.
Wait, what's that? I can finally feel something. It's like I'm being pulled...
Jason's eyes shot open and he gasped for air. He couldn't get any. Something was in his throat. He choked and flailed until a voice said, "Stop panicking. Relax and let the tube do its job."
The part of his brain that still held some rationality obeyed the voice. He relaxed his body. His muscles loosened and his limbs lay flat. He observed his surroundings and noticed he was inside a small capsule. The only light came through the opaque material used for the ceiling of the pod. He spotted a small tube that snaked from the wall and ended somewhere in his throat. He suppressed a pulse of anxiety, clenchig his fists until he calmed down.
"Good, you did that surprisingly quickly. I'm going to open your pod and get you back to normal. Sit tight."
Jason waited for two minutes before the ceiling of the pod retracted back. His eyes met with a bright light and he clamped them shut.
"It'll take a minute for your eyes to adjust. Stay still. I'll be removing the tube next. It will be a bit uncomfortable."
He opened his eyes again, slowly this time, and looking down at him from outside the pod was a human being dressed like a doctor. Suddenly, pain flared in his chest. He hadn't really felt the tube before, but now that it was coming out, it felt like he'd eaten a snake and it was trying to climb back up his throat.
"And there we go, the tube is out."
Jason breathed heavily. The ghost of that pain still lingered, and he wouldn't soon forget it.
Propping himself up on shaky hands, he surveyed his surroundings. All around, there were other pods, and his was the only open one. Each one must have contained a person. For what purpose, he didn't know.
He tried to remember how he got here, but each attempt to search his memory was met by the pain of a knife stabbing through his head. Jason could vaguely recall the feeling of floating in nothingness, but before that, his memory was guarded by pain.
The doctor must have noticed him wincing, because he said, "It's normal not to remember anything at first. The simulation accessed your brain in a way that's totally different from how we use it normally, and you're still suffering from the effects of that. It'll pass with time as your brain heals. Now, let's get you into the chair and bring you to the testing center."
*Simulation?*
Jason was curious, but it was clear that there was no time for questions. The doctor helped him get his legs over the sides of the pods and into a wheelchair, then rolled him out of the pod room and down a narrow hallway. They passed by many doors, and through small windows Jason could see more pods like his own, all closed.
"You might be wondering why all the other pods you see are closed, and you're the only one up and about. You don't remember it, but you managed to trigger a special condition in the simulation that enacted an ancient protocol and woke you up. More will be explained later, but I should tell you that the world of your memories was not real. Keep that in mind when your memories return."
They continued down the hall until they arrived at a door labeled "Testing Center." It swung open automatically as they neared, and waiting inside was another doctor.
"Ah, Jason, nice to meet you." The new man nodded towards the other doctor. "Thanks for bringing him, I'll take it from here."
The first man Jason met in this new world nodded and left. Soon after, Jason had needles poking him from a million different directions. The most painful one was what the doctor called a "bone marrow sample."
Once that was done, he was brought to a room with a shower and some basic clothing. He found that he'd gained enough strength to stand. Jason washed off and clothed himself in a black t-shirt and beige pants.
"Come with me." They walked further down the hallway and stood outside another room, this one labeled "Psychiatry."
"I'll leave you here. You will get an answer to most of your questions behind that door. Stay strong."
Jason entered the room. He wasn't sure how, but the room had a comfortable atmosphere. It was soothing just to stand in it. In the center of the room were two chairs. A man sat in one of them. He was young, maybe around thirty, with short black hair and startling blue eyes. He wore an infectious smile that put Jason at ease and made the man seem trustworthy.
He motioned for Jason to sit.
"Come, have a seat. We have a lot to discuss." | FADE IN:
EXT. A VERDANT GARDEN - DAY
*A man slowly fades into view amidst countless varieties of flowers and plants. This is DAVE. He glances around at his surroundings for a moment, appearing equal parts confused and suspicious.*
**DAVE:** Hello?
**ANGEL:** (*O.S.*) Greetings, David.
*Dave jumps slightly as a figure materializes in front of him. This is ANGEL. His age is unclear, and there is no visible hair anywhere on his body. He wears a white robe with intricate patterns of gold on its hems.*
**DAVE:** Who are you?
**ANGEL:** My name is Angel. I am a... concierge, for lack of a better word.
**DAVE:** Ah, well, I'll have a glass of white Zinfandel, then.
*Angel blinks once.*
**ANGEL:** Excuse me?
**DAVE:** You give out the wine, right? Isn't that what a concierge does?
**ANGEL:** That is a sommelier.
**DAVE:** Oh, right, sorry. You clean up the hallways.
**ANGEL:** That is a custodian! I am a guide! I am here to reassure you!
**DAVE:** Well, you're doing a bad job of it. Do you know what would *really* reassure me?
*A glass of pink wine appears in Dave's hand. This apparently surprises Angel.*
**ANGEL:** Where did you get that?!
**DAVE:** It was in the boat.
**ANGEL:** What b...
*Before Angel can finish, a weather-beaten (but still apparently sturdy) rowboat appears between him and Dave.*
**DAVE:** That one.
*Angel begins angrily waving his hands around.*
**ANGEL:** Stop that! Stop that at once!
*The boat and the wine both disappear as though they had been made of smoke.*
**ANGEL:** You are not meant to do that!
**DAVE:** Why not? This is Heaven, isn't it? Can't I do whatever I want?
**ANGEL:** No! Heaven is not real!
**DAVE:** Oh. Well, now I *definitely* need some wine.
*The white Zinfandel reappears in Dave's hand. He takes a casual sip as he surveys his surroundings. Angel watches this with barely concealed contempt.*
**ANGEL:** You are doing everything out of order.
**DAVE:** Yeah, well, I've been dead before. I know the drill. I am dead, right? That seagull killed me?
*Angel's irritated expression slowly adopts a guardedly curious aspect.*
**ANGEL:** "Seagull?" No, that is not relevant. Do you truly understand where you are?
**DAVE:** I mean, honestly? No. I'm making this up as I go along.
**ANGEL:** Then I shall explain. When you were alive, you would experience visions while you slept.
**DAVE:** Aha! It was the cheese that did me in, then!
**ANGEL:** "Cheese?"
**DAVE:** Yeah, man. Steve said that it had gone off, but *I* said that it would just give me crazy...
**ANGEL:** (*Interrupting*) This is also not relevant! When you died, you fully entered those visions!
*Angel gestures to the plants around them.*
**ANGEL:** (*CONT'D*) This is the vestibule of the world that you would visit as you slumbered.
**DAVE:** I don't see a toilet.
**ANGEL:** Not "lavatory!" *Vestibule!* Threshold!
**DAVE:** Prosit!
**ANGEL:** ... What?
**DAVE:** It's Swedish for "gesundheit."
*A noise not unlike that of a creaking hinge escapes Angel's lips.*
**ANGEL:** Fine! I shall be very concise! You died! You entered the world you had only glimpsed!
**DAVE:** Yeah, and the rules are different here.
*With a clatter of wooden impacts and bouncing oars, the rowboat reappears.*
**DAVE:** (*CONT'D*) See?
**ANGEL:** You do not seem concerned with *following* those rules.
**DAVE:** Eh, what's the point? I'm just going to die here, too, and then it's back to the other place.
*Angel's mouth opens and closes several times.*
**ANGEL:** You *do* understand! You have indeed been dead!
**DAVE:** Well, yeah. I mean, I was pretty sure that it was all make-believe, but...
**ANGEL:** (*Interrupting*) How have you remembered?!
*Dave shrugs.*
**DAVE:** I didn't. Like I said, I'm making this up as I go along.
**ANGEL:** You are making very little sense, David.
**DAVE:** Isn't that kind of the point?
**ANGEL:** I am becoming both frustrated and confused.
**DAVE:** Ah. New experience for you?
**ANGEL:** I do not like it. How can you know these things?
**DAVE:** It was a nursery rhyme.
*Several seconds pass in silence.*
**ANGEL:** What?
**DAVE:** It's all recursive, right? Only, like, inside out.
**ANGEL:** *What?!*
**DAVE:** You die there, you go here, you die here, you go there, and so on.
**ANGEL:** How does any of that relate to a nursery rhyme?!
*Dave shrugs and sits down in the rowboat. As Angel watches him, it is revealed that there is a narrow river running between the two of them.*
**DAVE:** Hey, do you want a glass? I found an extra one.
**ANGEL:** No! I insist that you answer! How did a nursery rhyme give you such wisdom?!
*Angel watches as Dave begins rowing the boat with one hand, using the other to drink his (seemingly bottomless) glass of wine.*
**DAVE:** Life is but a... bah, you get it.
FADE TO BLACK. |
Mainly, there is something after death, but religions are wrong about it. | [WP] As an atheist, you always believed that there was nothing after death. After your last breath, you discover that you were wrong, but that no one else was right about what's after either. | I had an excellent death. After that it was all downhill.
My death happened on one of those rare sunny January days on Vancouver Island when the omnipresent gray clouds part and the outdoors beckons. Jane and I had taken a leisurely drive from our “luxury senior living” (tiny) apartment in Nanaimo out to Lake Cowichan. Vancouver Island is huge and astonishingly gorgeous, and though Jane and I were well past our mountain-climbing and kayaking days, we still loved being out in the wild green misty majesty of the place as much as we did when we first moved here decades ago. We’d packed a cold lunch in a soft-sided cooler: some fruit, a hunk of cheese, half a baguette, some sliced hard salami, a couple of cans of Lucky lager. We parked at a scenic overlook and sat on the tailgate of the truck, nibbling cheese and drinking our beers and watching wind ruffle sparkling water. It was blustery but the sun was warm. Neither of us said much. After thirty years of marriage, we didn’t need to. We were simply happy together, being there in that place that we loved.
Then I had a stroke and died.
I remember a moment of disorientation, a stab of blinding pain, holding out a hand to catch myself, falling. I remember the puzzled look on Jane’s face, her beautiful face, framed by her white hair, looking down at me. I drank in my last sight of her and then I was gone.
I didn’t have time for regret. I didn’t have time to stammer out some stupid last words. I had had no fear of death, and my death was not fearful. My death was an entrance into absence, a return to the vastness of where I was before I was born. I died, and Jane was there, and loving Jane had been my life, and in my death I loved her still, and in that final moment nothing else mattered. My time came and I was sad, yes, who wouldn’t be? But I was ready.
At least that’s what I thought.
Boy was I wrong. Turns out the afterlife is even more stupid than you’d think.
I awoke lying flat on my back on what felt like a rough canvas pad on a wooden pallet. I was in a small dim windowless room that smelled of wood smoke and damp and the funk of unwashed bodies. A young woman in a dingy beige shift was wringing out a rag in a wooden bucket. She smiled when she saw me startle awake.
“Wha—“, I started to say, but she shushed me with a finger to her lips. She pointed to a hand-painted sign over the arched stone doorway. “ARRIVALS”, it read, with an arrow pointing straight up.
Not knowing what else to do, I stood up and examined myself. I was wearing a thin, mid-sleeved, coarsely-woven pajama-ish shirt much like a kurta. I didn’t have a headache. That was odd, for a man whose last salient memory was death by cerebral hemorrhage. And my body felt... different. It was mine but not familiarly mine.
I looked at my forearms. The scar from where I’d had my right arm surgically repaired after a car wreck in my thirties was gone. But the mole on my left arm that I kept meaning to have examined by a dermatologist was still there.
I looked down at my bare feet. My left big toe had a toenail again. I hadn’t had a toenail there since I’d had it removed as a teenager because it grew funny and the persistent ingrown nail had made walking excruciating.
Teenager.
Wait.
Holy shit.
I was young again.
I did a deep knee bend. Holy shit. It was easy. Holy shit. It didn’t hurt. Holy shit. My knees didn’t even creak. My hands flew to my head and hallelujah this must be heaven because hair to which I’d said a sad farewell in my late twenties was back, jet black and thicker than ever.
“Ok, so... what the actual fuck?” I said aloud slowly, and it was the voice of a younger me, a voice unscarred by reckless decades of cigarettes and bourbon, unravaged by time.
The young woman gestured down the hallway. She was still smiling, but her eyes had hardened and her message was clear: shoo.
I shooed.
Me in my new young body, walking down what was looking increasingly like an underground passageway in some kind of old castle, maybe? There were torches sputtering in metal sconces spaced at intervals along the walls, but no other doorways. I felt vaguely encouraged to be heading in the direction the smoke was drifting.
Death was getting weirder all the time.
“Jane, I wish you could see this,” I said to the universe at large. “On second thought, I don’t, because then you’d be dead too, and maybe this is hell and my dumb ass just hasn’t figured that out yet.”
I paused. “But I got my hair back. So it can’t be all bad, right, dear?”
The universe at large didn’t respond, so I kept following the torches. The hallway seemed to be gradually curving upward.
I paused again, considering. Who puts a single tiny room at the end of a long-ass underground hallway? How long had I been dead? Or was I still dying, and all of this was just a strange but soothing narrative concocted by my dying mind?
I pinched myself. Ow. Not sure what that proved. Ok.
I wondered what would happen if I stopped walking. Would I get hungry? Thirsty? Die of dehydration in this endless torchlit corridor? Can you die after dying already? And if so, where do you go, when you’ve died after death? Where was I now?
This was not helping. I trudged on. | FADE IN:
EXT. A VERDANT GARDEN - DAY
*A man slowly fades into view amidst countless varieties of flowers and plants. This is DAVE. He glances around at his surroundings for a moment, appearing equal parts confused and suspicious.*
**DAVE:** Hello?
**ANGEL:** (*O.S.*) Greetings, David.
*Dave jumps slightly as a figure materializes in front of him. This is ANGEL. His age is unclear, and there is no visible hair anywhere on his body. He wears a white robe with intricate patterns of gold on its hems.*
**DAVE:** Who are you?
**ANGEL:** My name is Angel. I am a... concierge, for lack of a better word.
**DAVE:** Ah, well, I'll have a glass of white Zinfandel, then.
*Angel blinks once.*
**ANGEL:** Excuse me?
**DAVE:** You give out the wine, right? Isn't that what a concierge does?
**ANGEL:** That is a sommelier.
**DAVE:** Oh, right, sorry. You clean up the hallways.
**ANGEL:** That is a custodian! I am a guide! I am here to reassure you!
**DAVE:** Well, you're doing a bad job of it. Do you know what would *really* reassure me?
*A glass of pink wine appears in Dave's hand. This apparently surprises Angel.*
**ANGEL:** Where did you get that?!
**DAVE:** It was in the boat.
**ANGEL:** What b...
*Before Angel can finish, a weather-beaten (but still apparently sturdy) rowboat appears between him and Dave.*
**DAVE:** That one.
*Angel begins angrily waving his hands around.*
**ANGEL:** Stop that! Stop that at once!
*The boat and the wine both disappear as though they had been made of smoke.*
**ANGEL:** You are not meant to do that!
**DAVE:** Why not? This is Heaven, isn't it? Can't I do whatever I want?
**ANGEL:** No! Heaven is not real!
**DAVE:** Oh. Well, now I *definitely* need some wine.
*The white Zinfandel reappears in Dave's hand. He takes a casual sip as he surveys his surroundings. Angel watches this with barely concealed contempt.*
**ANGEL:** You are doing everything out of order.
**DAVE:** Yeah, well, I've been dead before. I know the drill. I am dead, right? That seagull killed me?
*Angel's irritated expression slowly adopts a guardedly curious aspect.*
**ANGEL:** "Seagull?" No, that is not relevant. Do you truly understand where you are?
**DAVE:** I mean, honestly? No. I'm making this up as I go along.
**ANGEL:** Then I shall explain. When you were alive, you would experience visions while you slept.
**DAVE:** Aha! It was the cheese that did me in, then!
**ANGEL:** "Cheese?"
**DAVE:** Yeah, man. Steve said that it had gone off, but *I* said that it would just give me crazy...
**ANGEL:** (*Interrupting*) This is also not relevant! When you died, you fully entered those visions!
*Angel gestures to the plants around them.*
**ANGEL:** (*CONT'D*) This is the vestibule of the world that you would visit as you slumbered.
**DAVE:** I don't see a toilet.
**ANGEL:** Not "lavatory!" *Vestibule!* Threshold!
**DAVE:** Prosit!
**ANGEL:** ... What?
**DAVE:** It's Swedish for "gesundheit."
*A noise not unlike that of a creaking hinge escapes Angel's lips.*
**ANGEL:** Fine! I shall be very concise! You died! You entered the world you had only glimpsed!
**DAVE:** Yeah, and the rules are different here.
*With a clatter of wooden impacts and bouncing oars, the rowboat reappears.*
**DAVE:** (*CONT'D*) See?
**ANGEL:** You do not seem concerned with *following* those rules.
**DAVE:** Eh, what's the point? I'm just going to die here, too, and then it's back to the other place.
*Angel's mouth opens and closes several times.*
**ANGEL:** You *do* understand! You have indeed been dead!
**DAVE:** Well, yeah. I mean, I was pretty sure that it was all make-believe, but...
**ANGEL:** (*Interrupting*) How have you remembered?!
*Dave shrugs.*
**DAVE:** I didn't. Like I said, I'm making this up as I go along.
**ANGEL:** You are making very little sense, David.
**DAVE:** Isn't that kind of the point?
**ANGEL:** I am becoming both frustrated and confused.
**DAVE:** Ah. New experience for you?
**ANGEL:** I do not like it. How can you know these things?
**DAVE:** It was a nursery rhyme.
*Several seconds pass in silence.*
**ANGEL:** What?
**DAVE:** It's all recursive, right? Only, like, inside out.
**ANGEL:** *What?!*
**DAVE:** You die there, you go here, you die here, you go there, and so on.
**ANGEL:** How does any of that relate to a nursery rhyme?!
*Dave shrugs and sits down in the rowboat. As Angel watches him, it is revealed that there is a narrow river running between the two of them.*
**DAVE:** Hey, do you want a glass? I found an extra one.
**ANGEL:** No! I insist that you answer! How did a nursery rhyme give you such wisdom?!
*Angel watches as Dave begins rowing the boat with one hand, using the other to drink his (seemingly bottomless) glass of wine.*
**DAVE:** Life is but a... bah, you get it.
FADE TO BLACK. |
Mainly, there is something after death, but religions are wrong about it. | [WP] As an atheist, you always believed that there was nothing after death. After your last breath, you discover that you were wrong, but that no one else was right about what's after either. | Last I heard was tires squealing and last I felt was a much too heavy impact. The pain went away almost immediately but once I opened my eyes it was replaced with confusion. The ground was a wispy grey smoke, not smoke over top of something, I was sitting on solid smoke. To immediately contrast this some bright children's blocks laided in front of me with a note saying "get building".
I looked up from this perplexing pile to an even more surreal scene. I couldn't really gauge distances, but in every direction, for as far as I could see there were people building block towers. The further I looked the taller they got, in the distance it looked like there were skyscrapers of children's blocks.
Admiring them I tilted my head back I was somehow even more taken aback. A being; larger than anything I'd ever seen, was floating there, he covered the entire sky.
Then I heared a booming voice all around me:
"Shit, someone figured this one out too, new afterlife starting in 10 seconds, everyone hold on tight" | FADE IN:
EXT. A VERDANT GARDEN - DAY
*A man slowly fades into view amidst countless varieties of flowers and plants. This is DAVE. He glances around at his surroundings for a moment, appearing equal parts confused and suspicious.*
**DAVE:** Hello?
**ANGEL:** (*O.S.*) Greetings, David.
*Dave jumps slightly as a figure materializes in front of him. This is ANGEL. His age is unclear, and there is no visible hair anywhere on his body. He wears a white robe with intricate patterns of gold on its hems.*
**DAVE:** Who are you?
**ANGEL:** My name is Angel. I am a... concierge, for lack of a better word.
**DAVE:** Ah, well, I'll have a glass of white Zinfandel, then.
*Angel blinks once.*
**ANGEL:** Excuse me?
**DAVE:** You give out the wine, right? Isn't that what a concierge does?
**ANGEL:** That is a sommelier.
**DAVE:** Oh, right, sorry. You clean up the hallways.
**ANGEL:** That is a custodian! I am a guide! I am here to reassure you!
**DAVE:** Well, you're doing a bad job of it. Do you know what would *really* reassure me?
*A glass of pink wine appears in Dave's hand. This apparently surprises Angel.*
**ANGEL:** Where did you get that?!
**DAVE:** It was in the boat.
**ANGEL:** What b...
*Before Angel can finish, a weather-beaten (but still apparently sturdy) rowboat appears between him and Dave.*
**DAVE:** That one.
*Angel begins angrily waving his hands around.*
**ANGEL:** Stop that! Stop that at once!
*The boat and the wine both disappear as though they had been made of smoke.*
**ANGEL:** You are not meant to do that!
**DAVE:** Why not? This is Heaven, isn't it? Can't I do whatever I want?
**ANGEL:** No! Heaven is not real!
**DAVE:** Oh. Well, now I *definitely* need some wine.
*The white Zinfandel reappears in Dave's hand. He takes a casual sip as he surveys his surroundings. Angel watches this with barely concealed contempt.*
**ANGEL:** You are doing everything out of order.
**DAVE:** Yeah, well, I've been dead before. I know the drill. I am dead, right? That seagull killed me?
*Angel's irritated expression slowly adopts a guardedly curious aspect.*
**ANGEL:** "Seagull?" No, that is not relevant. Do you truly understand where you are?
**DAVE:** I mean, honestly? No. I'm making this up as I go along.
**ANGEL:** Then I shall explain. When you were alive, you would experience visions while you slept.
**DAVE:** Aha! It was the cheese that did me in, then!
**ANGEL:** "Cheese?"
**DAVE:** Yeah, man. Steve said that it had gone off, but *I* said that it would just give me crazy...
**ANGEL:** (*Interrupting*) This is also not relevant! When you died, you fully entered those visions!
*Angel gestures to the plants around them.*
**ANGEL:** (*CONT'D*) This is the vestibule of the world that you would visit as you slumbered.
**DAVE:** I don't see a toilet.
**ANGEL:** Not "lavatory!" *Vestibule!* Threshold!
**DAVE:** Prosit!
**ANGEL:** ... What?
**DAVE:** It's Swedish for "gesundheit."
*A noise not unlike that of a creaking hinge escapes Angel's lips.*
**ANGEL:** Fine! I shall be very concise! You died! You entered the world you had only glimpsed!
**DAVE:** Yeah, and the rules are different here.
*With a clatter of wooden impacts and bouncing oars, the rowboat reappears.*
**DAVE:** (*CONT'D*) See?
**ANGEL:** You do not seem concerned with *following* those rules.
**DAVE:** Eh, what's the point? I'm just going to die here, too, and then it's back to the other place.
*Angel's mouth opens and closes several times.*
**ANGEL:** You *do* understand! You have indeed been dead!
**DAVE:** Well, yeah. I mean, I was pretty sure that it was all make-believe, but...
**ANGEL:** (*Interrupting*) How have you remembered?!
*Dave shrugs.*
**DAVE:** I didn't. Like I said, I'm making this up as I go along.
**ANGEL:** You are making very little sense, David.
**DAVE:** Isn't that kind of the point?
**ANGEL:** I am becoming both frustrated and confused.
**DAVE:** Ah. New experience for you?
**ANGEL:** I do not like it. How can you know these things?
**DAVE:** It was a nursery rhyme.
*Several seconds pass in silence.*
**ANGEL:** What?
**DAVE:** It's all recursive, right? Only, like, inside out.
**ANGEL:** *What?!*
**DAVE:** You die there, you go here, you die here, you go there, and so on.
**ANGEL:** How does any of that relate to a nursery rhyme?!
*Dave shrugs and sits down in the rowboat. As Angel watches him, it is revealed that there is a narrow river running between the two of them.*
**DAVE:** Hey, do you want a glass? I found an extra one.
**ANGEL:** No! I insist that you answer! How did a nursery rhyme give you such wisdom?!
*Angel watches as Dave begins rowing the boat with one hand, using the other to drink his (seemingly bottomless) glass of wine.*
**DAVE:** Life is but a... bah, you get it.
FADE TO BLACK. |
Mainly, there is something after death, but religions are wrong about it. | [WP] As an atheist, you always believed that there was nothing after death. After your last breath, you discover that you were wrong, but that no one else was right about what's after either. | I exhale my last breath, and there's a momentary pause. It's the sort of pause that feels like a timeless interval, and I don't truly know how long it's been.
My breath rushes back into my lungs. It feels different. I try to move, but instead I'm pulled as if by strings.
I feel myself stirring strangely.
The floor is the same, the room. My eyes wander, but I am not in control. I see my daughter again, and my dear friends. Their heartache seems to lessen.
Something isn't right.
A tear rolls up my daughter's cheek, as she withdraws from kissing my forehead. It wells in her eye for a moment, and then flows back to the duct.
No.
They all move backwards behind the nurse, filing back out of the room.
Just like they'd come in. The first time.
Or is it the same time?
The minutes become hours, the hours days. Back and back, I watch my life refold, playing out in reverse. The years come, and I feel myself stronger, more youthful. The strings that pull me about become more forceful and deliberate.
I'm in love again.
The years blur together, faster as they wind back. The same way they sped up moving forward.
I'm in love for the first time.
I don't remember what happens next, where I would go if the flow of time were to suddenly snap back. The further I'm pulled away from my death, the less the memories exist. My expectations have changed. I've unlived fifty years, and stuff falling up seems normal. Natural.
I wonder if I was there all along, moving both ways at once.
Wondering is harder all the time.
Eventually, the days blur back together. I didn't know anything as a baby, and I don't again.
They say your life flashes before your eyes. | FADE IN:
EXT. A VERDANT GARDEN - DAY
*A man slowly fades into view amidst countless varieties of flowers and plants. This is DAVE. He glances around at his surroundings for a moment, appearing equal parts confused and suspicious.*
**DAVE:** Hello?
**ANGEL:** (*O.S.*) Greetings, David.
*Dave jumps slightly as a figure materializes in front of him. This is ANGEL. His age is unclear, and there is no visible hair anywhere on his body. He wears a white robe with intricate patterns of gold on its hems.*
**DAVE:** Who are you?
**ANGEL:** My name is Angel. I am a... concierge, for lack of a better word.
**DAVE:** Ah, well, I'll have a glass of white Zinfandel, then.
*Angel blinks once.*
**ANGEL:** Excuse me?
**DAVE:** You give out the wine, right? Isn't that what a concierge does?
**ANGEL:** That is a sommelier.
**DAVE:** Oh, right, sorry. You clean up the hallways.
**ANGEL:** That is a custodian! I am a guide! I am here to reassure you!
**DAVE:** Well, you're doing a bad job of it. Do you know what would *really* reassure me?
*A glass of pink wine appears in Dave's hand. This apparently surprises Angel.*
**ANGEL:** Where did you get that?!
**DAVE:** It was in the boat.
**ANGEL:** What b...
*Before Angel can finish, a weather-beaten (but still apparently sturdy) rowboat appears between him and Dave.*
**DAVE:** That one.
*Angel begins angrily waving his hands around.*
**ANGEL:** Stop that! Stop that at once!
*The boat and the wine both disappear as though they had been made of smoke.*
**ANGEL:** You are not meant to do that!
**DAVE:** Why not? This is Heaven, isn't it? Can't I do whatever I want?
**ANGEL:** No! Heaven is not real!
**DAVE:** Oh. Well, now I *definitely* need some wine.
*The white Zinfandel reappears in Dave's hand. He takes a casual sip as he surveys his surroundings. Angel watches this with barely concealed contempt.*
**ANGEL:** You are doing everything out of order.
**DAVE:** Yeah, well, I've been dead before. I know the drill. I am dead, right? That seagull killed me?
*Angel's irritated expression slowly adopts a guardedly curious aspect.*
**ANGEL:** "Seagull?" No, that is not relevant. Do you truly understand where you are?
**DAVE:** I mean, honestly? No. I'm making this up as I go along.
**ANGEL:** Then I shall explain. When you were alive, you would experience visions while you slept.
**DAVE:** Aha! It was the cheese that did me in, then!
**ANGEL:** "Cheese?"
**DAVE:** Yeah, man. Steve said that it had gone off, but *I* said that it would just give me crazy...
**ANGEL:** (*Interrupting*) This is also not relevant! When you died, you fully entered those visions!
*Angel gestures to the plants around them.*
**ANGEL:** (*CONT'D*) This is the vestibule of the world that you would visit as you slumbered.
**DAVE:** I don't see a toilet.
**ANGEL:** Not "lavatory!" *Vestibule!* Threshold!
**DAVE:** Prosit!
**ANGEL:** ... What?
**DAVE:** It's Swedish for "gesundheit."
*A noise not unlike that of a creaking hinge escapes Angel's lips.*
**ANGEL:** Fine! I shall be very concise! You died! You entered the world you had only glimpsed!
**DAVE:** Yeah, and the rules are different here.
*With a clatter of wooden impacts and bouncing oars, the rowboat reappears.*
**DAVE:** (*CONT'D*) See?
**ANGEL:** You do not seem concerned with *following* those rules.
**DAVE:** Eh, what's the point? I'm just going to die here, too, and then it's back to the other place.
*Angel's mouth opens and closes several times.*
**ANGEL:** You *do* understand! You have indeed been dead!
**DAVE:** Well, yeah. I mean, I was pretty sure that it was all make-believe, but...
**ANGEL:** (*Interrupting*) How have you remembered?!
*Dave shrugs.*
**DAVE:** I didn't. Like I said, I'm making this up as I go along.
**ANGEL:** You are making very little sense, David.
**DAVE:** Isn't that kind of the point?
**ANGEL:** I am becoming both frustrated and confused.
**DAVE:** Ah. New experience for you?
**ANGEL:** I do not like it. How can you know these things?
**DAVE:** It was a nursery rhyme.
*Several seconds pass in silence.*
**ANGEL:** What?
**DAVE:** It's all recursive, right? Only, like, inside out.
**ANGEL:** *What?!*
**DAVE:** You die there, you go here, you die here, you go there, and so on.
**ANGEL:** How does any of that relate to a nursery rhyme?!
*Dave shrugs and sits down in the rowboat. As Angel watches him, it is revealed that there is a narrow river running between the two of them.*
**DAVE:** Hey, do you want a glass? I found an extra one.
**ANGEL:** No! I insist that you answer! How did a nursery rhyme give you such wisdom?!
*Angel watches as Dave begins rowing the boat with one hand, using the other to drink his (seemingly bottomless) glass of wine.*
**DAVE:** Life is but a... bah, you get it.
FADE TO BLACK. |
Mainly, there is something after death, but religions are wrong about it. | [WP] As an atheist, you always believed that there was nothing after death. After your last breath, you discover that you were wrong, but that no one else was right about what's after either. | I had an excellent death. After that it was all downhill.
My death happened on one of those rare sunny January days on Vancouver Island when the omnipresent gray clouds part and the outdoors beckons. Jane and I had taken a leisurely drive from our “luxury senior living” (tiny) apartment in Nanaimo out to Lake Cowichan. Vancouver Island is huge and astonishingly gorgeous, and though Jane and I were well past our mountain-climbing and kayaking days, we still loved being out in the wild green misty majesty of the place as much as we did when we first moved here decades ago. We’d packed a cold lunch in a soft-sided cooler: some fruit, a hunk of cheese, half a baguette, some sliced hard salami, a couple of cans of Lucky lager. We parked at a scenic overlook and sat on the tailgate of the truck, nibbling cheese and drinking our beers and watching wind ruffle sparkling water. It was blustery but the sun was warm. Neither of us said much. After thirty years of marriage, we didn’t need to. We were simply happy together, being there in that place that we loved.
Then I had a stroke and died.
I remember a moment of disorientation, a stab of blinding pain, holding out a hand to catch myself, falling. I remember the puzzled look on Jane’s face, her beautiful face, framed by her white hair, looking down at me. I drank in my last sight of her and then I was gone.
I didn’t have time for regret. I didn’t have time to stammer out some stupid last words. I had had no fear of death, and my death was not fearful. My death was an entrance into absence, a return to the vastness of where I was before I was born. I died, and Jane was there, and loving Jane had been my life, and in my death I loved her still, and in that final moment nothing else mattered. My time came and I was sad, yes, who wouldn’t be? But I was ready.
At least that’s what I thought.
Boy was I wrong. Turns out the afterlife is even more stupid than you’d think.
I awoke lying flat on my back on what felt like a rough canvas pad on a wooden pallet. I was in a small dim windowless room that smelled of wood smoke and damp and the funk of unwashed bodies. A young woman in a dingy beige shift was wringing out a rag in a wooden bucket. She smiled when she saw me startle awake.
“Wha—“, I started to say, but she shushed me with a finger to her lips. She pointed to a hand-painted sign over the arched stone doorway. “ARRIVALS”, it read, with an arrow pointing straight up.
Not knowing what else to do, I stood up and examined myself. I was wearing a thin, mid-sleeved, coarsely-woven pajama-ish shirt much like a kurta. I didn’t have a headache. That was odd, for a man whose last salient memory was death by cerebral hemorrhage. And my body felt... different. It was mine but not familiarly mine.
I looked at my forearms. The scar from where I’d had my right arm surgically repaired after a car wreck in my thirties was gone. But the mole on my left arm that I kept meaning to have examined by a dermatologist was still there.
I looked down at my bare feet. My left big toe had a toenail again. I hadn’t had a toenail there since I’d had it removed as a teenager because it grew funny and the persistent ingrown nail had made walking excruciating.
Teenager.
Wait.
Holy shit.
I was young again.
I did a deep knee bend. Holy shit. It was easy. Holy shit. It didn’t hurt. Holy shit. My knees didn’t even creak. My hands flew to my head and hallelujah this must be heaven because hair to which I’d said a sad farewell in my late twenties was back, jet black and thicker than ever.
“Ok, so... what the actual fuck?” I said aloud slowly, and it was the voice of a younger me, a voice unscarred by reckless decades of cigarettes and bourbon, unravaged by time.
The young woman gestured down the hallway. She was still smiling, but her eyes had hardened and her message was clear: shoo.
I shooed.
Me in my new young body, walking down what was looking increasingly like an underground passageway in some kind of old castle, maybe? There were torches sputtering in metal sconces spaced at intervals along the walls, but no other doorways. I felt vaguely encouraged to be heading in the direction the smoke was drifting.
Death was getting weirder all the time.
“Jane, I wish you could see this,” I said to the universe at large. “On second thought, I don’t, because then you’d be dead too, and maybe this is hell and my dumb ass just hasn’t figured that out yet.”
I paused. “But I got my hair back. So it can’t be all bad, right, dear?”
The universe at large didn’t respond, so I kept following the torches. The hallway seemed to be gradually curving upward.
I paused again, considering. Who puts a single tiny room at the end of a long-ass underground hallway? How long had I been dead? Or was I still dying, and all of this was just a strange but soothing narrative concocted by my dying mind?
I pinched myself. Ow. Not sure what that proved. Ok.
I wondered what would happen if I stopped walking. Would I get hungry? Thirsty? Die of dehydration in this endless torchlit corridor? Can you die after dying already? And if so, where do you go, when you’ve died after death? Where was I now?
This was not helping. I trudged on. |
I should be dead. I remember how each breath from my withered mouth drew in less air, how my aching body grew too weak to support itself. I remember those final moments leading up to the sweet release of death.
I know I died. So why am I still alive?
At least, I think I'm alive. I'm certainly not dead.
I think I'm a disembodied consciousness. My physical senses are totally gone. I don't really feel anything, but I can almost trick myself into thinking I have a body.
Wait, what's that? I can finally feel something. It's like I'm being pulled...
Jason's eyes shot open and he gasped for air. He couldn't get any. Something was in his throat. He choked and flailed until a voice said, "Stop panicking. Relax and let the tube do its job."
The part of his brain that still held some rationality obeyed the voice. He relaxed his body. His muscles loosened and his limbs lay flat. He observed his surroundings and noticed he was inside a small capsule. The only light came through the opaque material used for the ceiling of the pod. He spotted a small tube that snaked from the wall and ended somewhere in his throat. He suppressed a pulse of anxiety, clenchig his fists until he calmed down.
"Good, you did that surprisingly quickly. I'm going to open your pod and get you back to normal. Sit tight."
Jason waited for two minutes before the ceiling of the pod retracted back. His eyes met with a bright light and he clamped them shut.
"It'll take a minute for your eyes to adjust. Stay still. I'll be removing the tube next. It will be a bit uncomfortable."
He opened his eyes again, slowly this time, and looking down at him from outside the pod was a human being dressed like a doctor. Suddenly, pain flared in his chest. He hadn't really felt the tube before, but now that it was coming out, it felt like he'd eaten a snake and it was trying to climb back up his throat.
"And there we go, the tube is out."
Jason breathed heavily. The ghost of that pain still lingered, and he wouldn't soon forget it.
Propping himself up on shaky hands, he surveyed his surroundings. All around, there were other pods, and his was the only open one. Each one must have contained a person. For what purpose, he didn't know.
He tried to remember how he got here, but each attempt to search his memory was met by the pain of a knife stabbing through his head. Jason could vaguely recall the feeling of floating in nothingness, but before that, his memory was guarded by pain.
The doctor must have noticed him wincing, because he said, "It's normal not to remember anything at first. The simulation accessed your brain in a way that's totally different from how we use it normally, and you're still suffering from the effects of that. It'll pass with time as your brain heals. Now, let's get you into the chair and bring you to the testing center."
*Simulation?*
Jason was curious, but it was clear that there was no time for questions. The doctor helped him get his legs over the sides of the pods and into a wheelchair, then rolled him out of the pod room and down a narrow hallway. They passed by many doors, and through small windows Jason could see more pods like his own, all closed.
"You might be wondering why all the other pods you see are closed, and you're the only one up and about. You don't remember it, but you managed to trigger a special condition in the simulation that enacted an ancient protocol and woke you up. More will be explained later, but I should tell you that the world of your memories was not real. Keep that in mind when your memories return."
They continued down the hall until they arrived at a door labeled "Testing Center." It swung open automatically as they neared, and waiting inside was another doctor.
"Ah, Jason, nice to meet you." The new man nodded towards the other doctor. "Thanks for bringing him, I'll take it from here."
The first man Jason met in this new world nodded and left. Soon after, Jason had needles poking him from a million different directions. The most painful one was what the doctor called a "bone marrow sample."
Once that was done, he was brought to a room with a shower and some basic clothing. He found that he'd gained enough strength to stand. Jason washed off and clothed himself in a black t-shirt and beige pants.
"Come with me." They walked further down the hallway and stood outside another room, this one labeled "Psychiatry."
"I'll leave you here. You will get an answer to most of your questions behind that door. Stay strong."
Jason entered the room. He wasn't sure how, but the room had a comfortable atmosphere. It was soothing just to stand in it. In the center of the room were two chairs. A man sat in one of them. He was young, maybe around thirty, with short black hair and startling blue eyes. He wore an infectious smile that put Jason at ease and made the man seem trustworthy.
He motioned for Jason to sit.
"Come, have a seat. We have a lot to discuss." |
Mainly, there is something after death, but religions are wrong about it. | [WP] As an atheist, you always believed that there was nothing after death. After your last breath, you discover that you were wrong, but that no one else was right about what's after either. | Last I heard was tires squealing and last I felt was a much too heavy impact. The pain went away almost immediately but once I opened my eyes it was replaced with confusion. The ground was a wispy grey smoke, not smoke over top of something, I was sitting on solid smoke. To immediately contrast this some bright children's blocks laided in front of me with a note saying "get building".
I looked up from this perplexing pile to an even more surreal scene. I couldn't really gauge distances, but in every direction, for as far as I could see there were people building block towers. The further I looked the taller they got, in the distance it looked like there were skyscrapers of children's blocks.
Admiring them I tilted my head back I was somehow even more taken aback. A being; larger than anything I'd ever seen, was floating there, he covered the entire sky.
Then I heared a booming voice all around me:
"Shit, someone figured this one out too, new afterlife starting in 10 seconds, everyone hold on tight" |
I should be dead. I remember how each breath from my withered mouth drew in less air, how my aching body grew too weak to support itself. I remember those final moments leading up to the sweet release of death.
I know I died. So why am I still alive?
At least, I think I'm alive. I'm certainly not dead.
I think I'm a disembodied consciousness. My physical senses are totally gone. I don't really feel anything, but I can almost trick myself into thinking I have a body.
Wait, what's that? I can finally feel something. It's like I'm being pulled...
Jason's eyes shot open and he gasped for air. He couldn't get any. Something was in his throat. He choked and flailed until a voice said, "Stop panicking. Relax and let the tube do its job."
The part of his brain that still held some rationality obeyed the voice. He relaxed his body. His muscles loosened and his limbs lay flat. He observed his surroundings and noticed he was inside a small capsule. The only light came through the opaque material used for the ceiling of the pod. He spotted a small tube that snaked from the wall and ended somewhere in his throat. He suppressed a pulse of anxiety, clenchig his fists until he calmed down.
"Good, you did that surprisingly quickly. I'm going to open your pod and get you back to normal. Sit tight."
Jason waited for two minutes before the ceiling of the pod retracted back. His eyes met with a bright light and he clamped them shut.
"It'll take a minute for your eyes to adjust. Stay still. I'll be removing the tube next. It will be a bit uncomfortable."
He opened his eyes again, slowly this time, and looking down at him from outside the pod was a human being dressed like a doctor. Suddenly, pain flared in his chest. He hadn't really felt the tube before, but now that it was coming out, it felt like he'd eaten a snake and it was trying to climb back up his throat.
"And there we go, the tube is out."
Jason breathed heavily. The ghost of that pain still lingered, and he wouldn't soon forget it.
Propping himself up on shaky hands, he surveyed his surroundings. All around, there were other pods, and his was the only open one. Each one must have contained a person. For what purpose, he didn't know.
He tried to remember how he got here, but each attempt to search his memory was met by the pain of a knife stabbing through his head. Jason could vaguely recall the feeling of floating in nothingness, but before that, his memory was guarded by pain.
The doctor must have noticed him wincing, because he said, "It's normal not to remember anything at first. The simulation accessed your brain in a way that's totally different from how we use it normally, and you're still suffering from the effects of that. It'll pass with time as your brain heals. Now, let's get you into the chair and bring you to the testing center."
*Simulation?*
Jason was curious, but it was clear that there was no time for questions. The doctor helped him get his legs over the sides of the pods and into a wheelchair, then rolled him out of the pod room and down a narrow hallway. They passed by many doors, and through small windows Jason could see more pods like his own, all closed.
"You might be wondering why all the other pods you see are closed, and you're the only one up and about. You don't remember it, but you managed to trigger a special condition in the simulation that enacted an ancient protocol and woke you up. More will be explained later, but I should tell you that the world of your memories was not real. Keep that in mind when your memories return."
They continued down the hall until they arrived at a door labeled "Testing Center." It swung open automatically as they neared, and waiting inside was another doctor.
"Ah, Jason, nice to meet you." The new man nodded towards the other doctor. "Thanks for bringing him, I'll take it from here."
The first man Jason met in this new world nodded and left. Soon after, Jason had needles poking him from a million different directions. The most painful one was what the doctor called a "bone marrow sample."
Once that was done, he was brought to a room with a shower and some basic clothing. He found that he'd gained enough strength to stand. Jason washed off and clothed himself in a black t-shirt and beige pants.
"Come with me." They walked further down the hallway and stood outside another room, this one labeled "Psychiatry."
"I'll leave you here. You will get an answer to most of your questions behind that door. Stay strong."
Jason entered the room. He wasn't sure how, but the room had a comfortable atmosphere. It was soothing just to stand in it. In the center of the room were two chairs. A man sat in one of them. He was young, maybe around thirty, with short black hair and startling blue eyes. He wore an infectious smile that put Jason at ease and made the man seem trustworthy.
He motioned for Jason to sit.
"Come, have a seat. We have a lot to discuss." |
Mainly, there is something after death, but religions are wrong about it. | [WP] As an atheist, you always believed that there was nothing after death. After your last breath, you discover that you were wrong, but that no one else was right about what's after either. | I exhale my last breath, and there's a momentary pause. It's the sort of pause that feels like a timeless interval, and I don't truly know how long it's been.
My breath rushes back into my lungs. It feels different. I try to move, but instead I'm pulled as if by strings.
I feel myself stirring strangely.
The floor is the same, the room. My eyes wander, but I am not in control. I see my daughter again, and my dear friends. Their heartache seems to lessen.
Something isn't right.
A tear rolls up my daughter's cheek, as she withdraws from kissing my forehead. It wells in her eye for a moment, and then flows back to the duct.
No.
They all move backwards behind the nurse, filing back out of the room.
Just like they'd come in. The first time.
Or is it the same time?
The minutes become hours, the hours days. Back and back, I watch my life refold, playing out in reverse. The years come, and I feel myself stronger, more youthful. The strings that pull me about become more forceful and deliberate.
I'm in love again.
The years blur together, faster as they wind back. The same way they sped up moving forward.
I'm in love for the first time.
I don't remember what happens next, where I would go if the flow of time were to suddenly snap back. The further I'm pulled away from my death, the less the memories exist. My expectations have changed. I've unlived fifty years, and stuff falling up seems normal. Natural.
I wonder if I was there all along, moving both ways at once.
Wondering is harder all the time.
Eventually, the days blur back together. I didn't know anything as a baby, and I don't again.
They say your life flashes before your eyes. |
I should be dead. I remember how each breath from my withered mouth drew in less air, how my aching body grew too weak to support itself. I remember those final moments leading up to the sweet release of death.
I know I died. So why am I still alive?
At least, I think I'm alive. I'm certainly not dead.
I think I'm a disembodied consciousness. My physical senses are totally gone. I don't really feel anything, but I can almost trick myself into thinking I have a body.
Wait, what's that? I can finally feel something. It's like I'm being pulled...
Jason's eyes shot open and he gasped for air. He couldn't get any. Something was in his throat. He choked and flailed until a voice said, "Stop panicking. Relax and let the tube do its job."
The part of his brain that still held some rationality obeyed the voice. He relaxed his body. His muscles loosened and his limbs lay flat. He observed his surroundings and noticed he was inside a small capsule. The only light came through the opaque material used for the ceiling of the pod. He spotted a small tube that snaked from the wall and ended somewhere in his throat. He suppressed a pulse of anxiety, clenchig his fists until he calmed down.
"Good, you did that surprisingly quickly. I'm going to open your pod and get you back to normal. Sit tight."
Jason waited for two minutes before the ceiling of the pod retracted back. His eyes met with a bright light and he clamped them shut.
"It'll take a minute for your eyes to adjust. Stay still. I'll be removing the tube next. It will be a bit uncomfortable."
He opened his eyes again, slowly this time, and looking down at him from outside the pod was a human being dressed like a doctor. Suddenly, pain flared in his chest. He hadn't really felt the tube before, but now that it was coming out, it felt like he'd eaten a snake and it was trying to climb back up his throat.
"And there we go, the tube is out."
Jason breathed heavily. The ghost of that pain still lingered, and he wouldn't soon forget it.
Propping himself up on shaky hands, he surveyed his surroundings. All around, there were other pods, and his was the only open one. Each one must have contained a person. For what purpose, he didn't know.
He tried to remember how he got here, but each attempt to search his memory was met by the pain of a knife stabbing through his head. Jason could vaguely recall the feeling of floating in nothingness, but before that, his memory was guarded by pain.
The doctor must have noticed him wincing, because he said, "It's normal not to remember anything at first. The simulation accessed your brain in a way that's totally different from how we use it normally, and you're still suffering from the effects of that. It'll pass with time as your brain heals. Now, let's get you into the chair and bring you to the testing center."
*Simulation?*
Jason was curious, but it was clear that there was no time for questions. The doctor helped him get his legs over the sides of the pods and into a wheelchair, then rolled him out of the pod room and down a narrow hallway. They passed by many doors, and through small windows Jason could see more pods like his own, all closed.
"You might be wondering why all the other pods you see are closed, and you're the only one up and about. You don't remember it, but you managed to trigger a special condition in the simulation that enacted an ancient protocol and woke you up. More will be explained later, but I should tell you that the world of your memories was not real. Keep that in mind when your memories return."
They continued down the hall until they arrived at a door labeled "Testing Center." It swung open automatically as they neared, and waiting inside was another doctor.
"Ah, Jason, nice to meet you." The new man nodded towards the other doctor. "Thanks for bringing him, I'll take it from here."
The first man Jason met in this new world nodded and left. Soon after, Jason had needles poking him from a million different directions. The most painful one was what the doctor called a "bone marrow sample."
Once that was done, he was brought to a room with a shower and some basic clothing. He found that he'd gained enough strength to stand. Jason washed off and clothed himself in a black t-shirt and beige pants.
"Come with me." They walked further down the hallway and stood outside another room, this one labeled "Psychiatry."
"I'll leave you here. You will get an answer to most of your questions behind that door. Stay strong."
Jason entered the room. He wasn't sure how, but the room had a comfortable atmosphere. It was soothing just to stand in it. In the center of the room were two chairs. A man sat in one of them. He was young, maybe around thirty, with short black hair and startling blue eyes. He wore an infectious smile that put Jason at ease and made the man seem trustworthy.
He motioned for Jason to sit.
"Come, have a seat. We have a lot to discuss." |
[WP]A minor deity decides to try increasing their followers by joining social media and posting about their daily life as a god. | "Hey everyone, it's the lock picking lawyer, and today we are going to open this high-grade 5-core lock from Gordion. Now, Gordion has made the claim that this lock is unpickable. The keyholes use five of these unique keys, so conventional picks won't be doing the job. Luckily, I was able to put together a new tool out of toothpicks, a hair pin, and seven pieces of old gum. Now, let's see if Gordion's claim holds up. 1 is binding...2 is binding...3 is binding....4 is binding...5 is almost binding and- there. We got it. Okay folks, this is a reminder that no matter the materials and what else the manufacturer claims, no lock is unpickable. I'm the lockpicking lawyer, have a nice day."
The jaws of the executives at Gordion Unbreakable Locks LLC had dropped.
"How does he do it? We tested this thing for years!" Said Gerald Gordion, the CEO.
"It's because he's not human."
The entire board room turned to face a man in a trenchcoat that had not been there twenty seconds prior.
"Excuse me, who the hell are you? Someone get security."
The man smiled.
"Security went on lunch break two minutes ago. It's okay, I won't be long."
The boardroom had started to raise their hands above their head
"No no no! I'm not here for that! Stop it! I'm here for vengeance. Let me explain-"
The man grabbed the PowerPoint remote and changed to the next slide
"I have a business proposition for you. You see, me and the being you know as the lockpicking lawyer have been rivals for...millennia. we are both minor deities. I am the deity of petty vengeance, and he is the deity of advertising law and small metal mechanisms. I'd give you our names, but human mouths can't pronounce them. Anyways, the short of it is we gain power the more followers we have, and we'll, you've seen his YouTube subscribers count. I want to embarrass him, let him know he didn't kill me last time. I can diminish his power, make sure he never breaks one of your locks ever again. How does that sound to you?"
The executives nodded in fear. The man tossed the remote at the CEO.
"Good. Next slide please." | It's a new age. No, not the Age of Aquarius...the Age of the Internet. With information at the world's fingertips, it's become harder and harder to be a deity. It's not like the old days, where you could just snap your fingers, light a fire, and bam, everyone sacrifices chickens and throws festivals in your honor. No, people are a lot harder to impress. Which, since our power is greatly augmented by adoration, is quite an issue.
Gods are fading, OK? Even the major gods are overshadowed by the so-called 'influencers', mortals who have somehow gained enough power to become god-like themselves. After a lot of research, though, I've found the secret: Social media. By incessantly sharing their lives with their worshippers, lesser humans feel a strong connection to them, thus ensuring loyalty.
I created an account on a site called Instagram. My name there is xoxo\_goddex, an homage to a popular mortal TV show. I've been posting thrice daily, showing what I wear, eat, and do. It's oddly simple. I'm beautiful, and that's all it seems to take. Converts flock to my page, begging for 'livestreams' and intimate details. It fuels me.
For centuries, I've barely had enough power to light a candle. But now? Now, I'm feeling like I could light up the world. | |
[WP] You, a mere human, find yourself inside an arena and pitted against all sorts of supernatural beings in combat. Being a diehard fantasy fan however, you know their weaknesses. All of them. | 9 months ago, I was a normie scrolling my life away on Reddit and watching NBA games. My daily stops were venues namely Messy Bed, Ammonia Aroma Toilet and Meal Table. And then a friend came running to me how excited he was joining a DnD group play. I left that Discord server, but on second thought I rejoin since there was nothing I could do other than wrestling with Jimmy for the day. Why the hell not.
​
6 months ago, with minimum sleep and food I have engrossed myself in mythologies and the sort. Who knew Zeus was actually as horny as me being a teen I am, for me which lacked in the department of supernatural powers only. Who knew that stuff like centaurs, gorgons and fenrirs can have this much back stories. Who knew I would be a mess, but a newfound purpose and interest has kept me a little sane. And who knew I made friends and talked about nonexistent but fascinating creatures that live in the corners of the earth. Articles, wikis, archives, I was consuming them, ravishing them, feel them. Their strength, their weaknesses, their curves and edges. If they would to exist, I would let them take me away. Live with them, work with them, travel and fly with them. But I can only dream of them.
​
5 months ago, Martin left a message. He left for Tringurd, the promised land of the fantasy where the fantastic beasts of the kind shall meet to fight for glory and gain a favor from God. Of course he would do it. He was the most charismatic, energetic and boldest of us all. His dad was Navy and he was about to enlist, he was our gangs Bear Grylls, and he was a fanatic for fantasy shit. And he said he would attend the showdown in Tringurd to be the first human representative and return in a week. I never thought someone would be out of their mind to go to somewhere that doesn't exist on Google Maps, nor Google Galaxy for that case. I wished him best of luck, because I haven't lost my mind. Past champions were Minotaur, Arthur Pendragon, The Sphinx, and Dracula who won twice. How did I know this? Found it on a blog, written by the son of the 2 time champion Alucard, except last entry updated was few years back where he "retired and was not interested in violent bloodshed, but starting to enjoy finer things in life". All the past fighters stats, strengths, and weaknesses fully laid out before my eyes. I'm no fighter, but I know Martin didn't stand a chance. Unless he knew what I knew... their weaknesses.
​
He returned a week later with a big scar on his front, trailing from shoulder to the hips. "Frankenstein wasn't the smartest but his punches wrecked walls. Couldn't have done it without chainsaws and high voltage to de-animate him. Who knew I won round robin, although I could fare better if I knew more about them." The Discord chat went wild and I would never find my jaw again. I was in shock and exhilarated: they do exist. And if Martin was the brawn, I can be the brain. I DM'ed him and suggested a game plan. The first human champion of Tringurd.
​
3 months ago, we were pitted up against the Nine-Tailed Fox. "Easy. Smoke screen first, remove seal from the forehead. Don't let it charge attacks, be relentless." Martin holstered his equipment and shrugged, stepping into the arena like a chad. I sat in the coach bench and watch how the single sided fight unfold. Making a statement to remove the tails one by one... guess Martin needed to show dominance.
​
2 months ago, semis. Ouroboros. "Scales are lethal, DO NOT let them on you. Don't get in their circle or it will be instant death as well, not the typical hula-hoop. Sulphur to break them up, and then do your usual." Martin listened casually as he coated his machete with sulphur, sheathing it like he's done a thousand times. A heavy aura spread across the pit and it smelled like jasmine... the snakes writhe out from their corner. Apparently they were not domestic sized, and I would say elephants would be like teatime for them. Martin was indifferent but I was trembling. "Don't worry, same old. I trust you." He gripped his machete hard, and sprinted towards the monstrous pair of snakes.
​
2 weeks ago, Martin couldn't hang on. Ouroboros slain, but the venom got the best of him. Calculated risk, but no modern medicine can remedy that.
​
I grieved, but I was hopeful. We were this close to beating it. When the next round comes around, I bet we would be more prepared than ever. There's 7 billion of us and counting but there are only so few of them. We can keep coming back at them and win it all. There will be someone that can go further than Martin, and someone more strategic than me. Someone, somewhere, will bring Tringurd to us.
​
100 years later, I hope someone finds this letter of mine. The fight of Tringurd will commence once more. Until then, best of luck. May you carry on this torch of ours. Beat them. All of them. | Carry on wayward son plays in the back speakers of my 67 impala as I grab my shotgun with a few salt rounds and slam the trunk.
“Well? You ready Sammy?”
“How the hell did we get here Dean, and also, this doesn’t bother you?”
“Nope Sammy” *cocks shotgun* “never does.”
The arena is lit with multiple candles resembling that of Tiki Torches, I’m taken back to when we tracked down that Wendigo.
“Dean, is this REALLY necessary?”
“Sam, calm down. The trickster is up to his usual BULLshit and we need to do this, you know the lore and, well, I know the guns. Let’s do this and get the hell outta here, I’ve got a bacon cheeseburger Callin my name at that cafe, also did you see that waitress in there? Man I would love to—“
“Dean”
……”right”
A creaking rusty gate opens, it sounds far away, but not TOO far. The sound of growling dogs fills the air.
…”Sam”?
“Yep dean. That’s the hell hou-“
“Son of a bitch!”
(To be continued) | |
[WP] You, a mere human, find yourself inside an arena and pitted against all sorts of supernatural beings in combat. Being a diehard fantasy fan however, you know their weaknesses. All of them. | I clutched the lute- lyre? Mandolin? Fuck if I know it was a stringed instrument. I really wish I'd learned more music stuff. Fae were easy, an iron blade handled them. And silver for the werewolf and the vampire. But a giant three headed dog? Presumably a sharp blade would handle it but I had to get close.
And it was four goddamn stories tall. The crowd was sure that I'd fail, I could hear them baying for my blood. Humans were not exactly popular here, wherever here was. I practiced the fingerings that stoner had shown me in high school, hoping an acoustic guitar wasn't too far off from this... Banjo? Sitar? Is a sitar a stringed instrument?
"I'm so fucked." I whispered as the enormous gate rumbled open. A hush fell as Cerberus eyed me with six baleful, luminous yellow eyes the size of beach balls. A low growl deep enough to vibrate my bones rose into three piercing howls that hurt my ears and nearly caused me to void my bowels.
I resolutely strummed the fucking stringed thingy.
Bum bum bummm
Bum bum babum
Bum bum bummm
Bum bum babumm
"Smooooke on the waaaater- Fiyah in the sky-ah!" My off tune and frankly piss poor recitation echoed off the great arena, the audience stunned into utter silence. I kept playing. I only knew the chorus.
I got through a second stanza or chorus or whatever when I noticed the leftmost head of Cerberus lower a bit, it's eyes dimming slightly as a gentle yawn rippled down it's corded neck to shake it's flanks, like an exhausted trucker vainly trying to shake another thirty minutes of wakefulness out of his floundering consciousness.
*Holy fucking shit, it's working.*
So I sang that same line, and badly played those notes for thirty minutes, until this barn sized beast laid down for its last nap. As I cautiously drew the sword and pointed it at what I assumed was the location of Cerberus' heart, I heard the Lord of the Arena murmur, "Are you fucking kidding me..." | Carry on wayward son plays in the back speakers of my 67 impala as I grab my shotgun with a few salt rounds and slam the trunk.
“Well? You ready Sammy?”
“How the hell did we get here Dean, and also, this doesn’t bother you?”
“Nope Sammy” *cocks shotgun* “never does.”
The arena is lit with multiple candles resembling that of Tiki Torches, I’m taken back to when we tracked down that Wendigo.
“Dean, is this REALLY necessary?”
“Sam, calm down. The trickster is up to his usual BULLshit and we need to do this, you know the lore and, well, I know the guns. Let’s do this and get the hell outta here, I’ve got a bacon cheeseburger Callin my name at that cafe, also did you see that waitress in there? Man I would love to—“
“Dean”
……”right”
A creaking rusty gate opens, it sounds far away, but not TOO far. The sound of growling dogs fills the air.
…”Sam”?
“Yep dean. That’s the hell hou-“
“Son of a bitch!”
(To be continued) | |
[WP] You, a mere human, find yourself inside an arena and pitted against all sorts of supernatural beings in combat. Being a diehard fantasy fan however, you know their weaknesses. All of them. | A failed experiment, a detestable human and most recently, humanity's Guardian of Light. All the nouns that describe me, the "Light" of the arena, which comes from my name "Lux" that my summoner assigns to me due to my glowing innate mana. However, contrary to my status and skills as a butcher of monsters, demons and demi-humans alike, I wasn't born this way nor I was raised to be like this either. While it is true that throughout my 30 years of life, I was trained in the way of battle, learnt every weapons, every tactics, every movements optimized for combat and fought numerous battles to hone my senses and skills from physical feats to magical spells. But it's all to fulfill a single long-cherished wish left behind by my forefathers: "Create an environment where humans can thrive, can flourish, without fear of the unknown threats from beyond." I learnt two things really quickly from that wish.
The first is where my true name "Eden" comes from. It means "safe haven", the end goal of my family's wish. While it's just a name, my true name, it has become the pillar of my heart, hoping to save myself from this hell one day. It has also kept my humanity alive over the brutal years of gladiatorship. A butcher I may be, but I won't kill surrendered enemies. Saying it is easy but driven by bloodlust, surrounded by killing intent, urged on by the jeering audience that loves seeing brutality on display, one would have a hard time NOT granting the death blows to their enemies. That's what is referred as "mercy" as my fellow humans would put it. Because of this "mercy" I have showed time and time again, I'm a "failed experiment", a failed summon from another continent to this hell hole of an arena to kill in a blood sport spectacle that can't kill if the enemy yield. That's what the arena's managers and summoners call me.
The second was what these "threats" were, as I was introduced to them during the downtime of my training regimen. At first I was just thought that they are mere "fantasy beings" via all the stories and board games. I was very intrigued by the existence of beings I have no knowledge of that can be very exciting to spar with. "Know the enemy and know yourself in a hundred battles you will never be in peril" so I was told and I really took it to heart as I learned all there was to know about them. From their weakness be it elemental or some specific substance, their vulnerable spots be it vital or sensory organs, to their combat style, patterns, weapons and magics. I also had some hands-on simulation battles with my trainers using illusion magic to imitate these creatures to hone my senses and reactions.
Throughout it all, I never questioned the most basic knowledge that I had since I was first introduced to them: "They are *fantasy*." Not until I was spirited away to this arena, dropped into the ring with a sharpened sword, fighting to the death with a bull-headed beast did I realize my misconception. With my knowledge coupled with superb training and honed senses, I would always triumph over any and all oppositions in the ring. "A detestable human" that's akin to a cockroach that won't die and in turns best the cream of the crop from every race. That's what the audience calls me.
However, this is all in the past, I am now a freed man, set out to fulfill my family's wish once more. How I was liberated was a stroke of luck if nothing else. I was forbidden from any and all information of the outside world during my gladiatorship so what I was told from my savior is all I know.
During the second invasion of the Demon Lord to human's territory, my savior Dean fought on the frontline and the tide of battle turned drastically. After fighting continuously on the frontline, pushing the defensive line from the neutral undeveloped lands all the way to the Demon Lord's capital, the Demon Lord sent out a peace envoy to hope to avoid total annihilation.
During the peace talks, however, Dean heard a most unsavory rumor from the whispering guards about the "Light" of the arena was actually a human. So with the help of some mages, Dean managed to snuck into the Arena premium resting lounge and found me.
"Oh a new face!" - Hatal the Orge exclaimed as an unfamiliar elf waltz through the luxurious door.
While most people here didn't bat an eye at his entrance, they certainly looked his way as he made his way towards me in the corner of the room.
Me with my brooding atmosphere and sinister aura that threaten to cut down any intruders never had company barring for the overly friendly Hatal or the polite but hot headed illusionist Fey.
The former believed in my "mercy" code while the latter just have a really twisted sense of thrill. Granted, she does seem wary of my aura that could kill on a touch so she never dares to sit near me physically, even after getting friendly with me for several months now.
"Oi, rude elf don't just—" Fey's illusion fades before she could finished as the new face sat in her seat like meeting an old friend.
"Hey, are you "Lux", the human, per chance?" - His soothing voice sounds oddly confident.
"So what if I am?" - I vaguely respond, trying to sound out his intention.
"This elf is dead meat." I heard Fey's voice half a room away as she conjures up her illusion soldiers.
"Oi elf, you pissed off Fey. Watch yourself!" Hatal warned the oblivious elf still seated as if the swordsman illusion rushing him was of no importance.
"Well, I'm thinking of giving you back your freedom if you so choose." The elf continues fully confident that I am "Lux".
"Ha." I chuckled as the swordsman illusion stabbed through the elf body. But contrary to everyone's belief, the swordsman fades away with no harm done to the elf as he kept his calm smile and awaits my next words.
Everyone here knows how deadly Fey's mental attacks from illusions can be, they are illusions and cannot inflict physical wounds or interact with the material world but they can caused mind rending pain as mental attacks.
Seeing the elf unfazed, I continued: "You talked about breaking me out while you are imprisoned here just like me, what can you do about the summoner's subservient contract huh?"
"Hmm? What can I do? Subjugating the summoner is an option, no? If they refuse to destroy the contract, just eliminate them?" He responded like the most obvious thing in the world but the feats is impossible for the contractee to turn on the contractor.
Normally, the contractor commands the contractee via their name, ideally their "true name". Using one's "true name" allows the contractor to commands with no limitation or risks. However, since the summoner who summoned me do not know my true name, they just assigned me a name "Lux" and compel me to do their biddings. As long as I do not forget my true name "Eden", "Lux" will forever be a referral.
When I'm ordered, I feel a compulsion, not a soul binding command. I can rebel and kill the summoner using my "true name" to command myself but I only have one chance. If I fail my rebellion, I will be subjected to this hell to the truest sense of the word, to live and die by the audience's whims and favors.
By now, a dozen or so of Fey's soldiers have run the elf through but nothing visibly change on the elf's face. Fey was sweating bullets over her ineffective attacks, canceled her illusions and hope the elf let her go after his aggressive statement towards the managers of the arena.
"Yea sounds easy enough, how about you do that for me then, I'll break out of here by myself when I no longer feel the contract's shackle on me." I responded jokingly thinking this elf is out of his mind.
*Maybe his insanity numbs all perception of mental attacks so Fey's illusion is not working.* I hypothesize a reasonable thought about how he is acting so carefreely against Fey's attacks.
"Alright, I'll do just that then. I'll solve the contract issue tonight so I hope to see you on the outskirt of the city by the tent with a red white cross flag by first light. Tell the guard that Dean sends you along with this." He said concluding the talks and leaving behind detached a cat bell of sort.
As I put the cat bell to my pocket, I asked one last question as he stands up and heads for the door: "Are you really an elf?"
He laughably responds: "No but I had a friend who have been trying far more advanced attacks against me so what your friend Fey did was cute." | I yawned and stretched, and rubbed out my ear to clear the ringing from the roar of the great beast across the sand. The walls were high, as necessary, but the Hydra across the way was still at eye level with the front and second row seats. I needed to get started before it started plucking spectators off the stands, that made people upset. I started across the sand, testing the string of my yew bow. When I broke into the circle of columns halfway in, the Hydra focused finally on me. Good, that was taken care of. It started forward, watching me to see what direction I would run, and when. A true predator. And I was natural prey. But I was not afraid.
I knew the Hydra's weakness. It wasn't fire to cauterize the severed heads, poison to bypass the regeneration, or some kind of trick with swallowing bombs. No. The Hydra had the same weakness they had all had: The cyclops. The basilisk. The dragon.
From behind me emerged my secret weapon.
It was my friend Greg, also with a yew bow. And just like that, we parted, and walked in opposite directions, circling until the beast was between us. The Hydra didn't have to do that fun, 'whip head back and forth between two targets' thing. It had enough heads to look at both of us. But it could only chase one, and it quickly chose me, probably pissed at how nonchalant I was. It took a few steps towards me, and that's when Greg shot it in the back of the heel.
We'd worked on this, the painful spots that would get the bastards to wheel around and switch. First few battles we plugged them anywhere, the Grizzly looked like a pincushion. When the arrow lodged in it's sensitive heel, the Hydra screamed, my ears rang again, and it turned to charge at Greg, who darted back, weaving around the columns. He was faster than when he started, but the Hydra was a natural predator, bound to catch fleeing prey. So I shot it in the ear. Well, an ear.
The Hydra screamed again, and wheeled to charge at me, completely forgetting Greg, who waited as it chased me, got close, and shot it again. Back and forth. We went for the legs and eyes first, slowing it. Whoever it was chasing would run, dodge, weave. Only as long as it took the other to line up the next shot. If that didn't bring it back, more shots, and it eventually did turn, or get distracted enough to lose it's target. By this method we wore it down, the way we'd worn down the others, for as fast and deadly as any beast is, it is only one, and we are two, and thus twice as fast. The economy of action is a broken concept. | |
[WP] You, a mere human, find yourself inside an arena and pitted against all sorts of supernatural beings in combat. Being a diehard fantasy fan however, you know their weaknesses. All of them. | You enter the arena. You know not why you are here, nor how, but as you look around you see beams of moonlight illuminating the space around you, as atop the walls spectators are cheering and hollering in excitement, speaking a language you don't recognize. They are all fair skinned, slim, long haired, .... pointed eared.
Elves?
Theres no way that's right, you think to yourself.
The first of many doors opposite you opens
The man across from you is pale, with slitted, catlike eyes and sharp teeth. Blood stains his black coat.
He attempts to make eye contact, but you avert your eyes from his gaze. You don't know for sure, but if your suspicions are correct, eye contact could mean game over.
Those suspicions are confirmed as the man transforms into a bat, quickly flies over to you transforming back and attempting to grab you.
He moved so fast it startled you, and you've never had a strong bladder. You hold it in. Then you have an idea.
Before he can grab you you drop your trousers, and piss on the vampire, knowing that vampires are weak to water, the same way they are to garlic, or as slugs are to salt. The foul undead dies once more, and after you're done urinating, you pull your pants back up and the next door begins to open.
You know that just pissing on opponents won't work every time, because its unlikely all of them would be weak to water. So you use your time wisely, pulling out your pocket knife, and removing the flesh from the vampires bodies arm, pulling out the bone in hopes of using it as a weapon.
Your next opponent is a cyclops. 3 times your height one massive eye in the center of its face. It wields no weapons, but you suspect its fists and bite are enough. But you know what to do.
You run. As the cyclops chases you you drag the bone along the walls of the arena, causing it to chip and crack, and and as it thins out, begins to sharpen. You turn to face the beast, and you throw the makeshift spear, directly into the beasts eye.
It hits. The eye pops, and the giant falls on its ass, blinded, and losing blood.
They don't even give you time to rest a second once the one eyed colossus collapses, a bone chilling howl emanating from the next opponents door, as a large semi bipedal wolf charges directly at you with bloodlust in its eyes.
You smile. This will be too easy.
You pull back your sleeve and remove the antique pocket watch from your wrist. It belonged to your grandfather, and its made from real silver.
The last thing he werewolf heard was the strange humans war cry.
"YEET!"
The Wolfman, whose skull had been smashed ppen by the thrown pocket watch (silver vs werewolves and all that), was very much dead, though its corpse shifted back into its human form. You retrieved the bone spear and the watch, as the next malicious mythological enters the ring.
The minotaur approaches. Each step reverberating through the earth. It scans its surroundings eager for a meal.
You think back for a second to the original myth, and remember how the minotaur ate people.
Oh yeah. Its all coming together.
You lift the remains of your last adversary, and toss the human body infront of the minotaur. It acts as expected tearing into your offering.
As its distracted you sharpen your bone spear with your pocket knife, turning it into more of a sword than a spear.
While the bull faced monstrosity finishes its feast, you sneak up behind it and slash its back, aiming to cut it through the spine.
It takes more strength than you thought it would, considering Theseus also only used a sword, but he was probably stronger than you, had more experience, and his weapon was an actual sword as opposed to a makeshift bone blade.
However, you do manage to damage its spine enough to paralyze it from the neck down.
You aim for the eyes. The minotaur has been slain.
The audience loves it.
The elf in the fancy robes with the crown on his head on the makeshift throne that is also the highest seat, doess not share the enthusiasm of his subjects.
The spectators gasp when he says something, you don't know what he said because you don't speak elvish, but you can guess that it's bad.
A door you didn't notice before opens. Bigger than the overs, but covered in dust.
You hear a roar.
That sounded like no earth animal. But you've heard that sound somewhere. Probably from a fantasy movie. Then you remember. That sounded like a dragon....
The ground shakes, each footstep like a small earthquake. Your mind races, trying to think of any possible weaknesses a dragon could have. You remember that some stories feature dragons having soft underbellies, originating from a norse myth. That idea is thrown out the window as the beast steps into the light.
Green scales. Red eyes. Eight heads, wriggling and writhing like snakes.
THE HYDRA HAS COME TO PUT AN END TO YOUR BULLSHIT
If you had fire with you, you could cut off the heads and light the stumps ablaze so they can't regrow, like Heracles did. Unfortunately you don't carry a lighter on your person during day to day life.
You swear you can hear the doom soundtrack in the back of your mind as the hydra slowly, approaches.
How can you destroy a regenerating threat.
You remember the last time you asked that question. Playing dnd back in high-school. Your party was fighting a troll. You were new to the game. You all were. "How do we defeat a regenerating opponent" was the question you asked when you saw it regenerate. None of your party could deal fire damage (noob mistake really), but you eventually figured it out. Acid damage. And sure enough that worked.
Now how could you get acid to deal with the hydra. Other than urinating, because urine wouldn't be a strong enough acid.
You cut open the minotaur, and pulled out its stomach. You cut a head off of the hydra, running between chomping heads. You cut open the stomach and drench the stump in acid before two new heads could regrow.
You remove another and dump more acid.
After drenching 4 stumps, with 4 heads remaining, you flee to the cyclops body, and remove its stomach aswell.
You remove 3 more heads, each one easily then the last, since you have less heads to dodge. But the cyclops stomach acid is weaker than the minotaur, and you need to use more to prevent regrowth.
1 head remains.
You consider the possibility that this is the version of the hydra from one of the versions of the original Greek myth, where the last head is immortal, abd instead of regrowing, will merely become a detached head trying to bit your ankles. But if not, chopping it off could lead to it just regrowing, or worse, growing two heads, as most know it for.
You have an idea.
You remove a second organ from the cyclops, and charge at the final head.
You cut it off.
You throw the organ and cut it open in midair.
Urine rains down upon the both of you, and you close your eyes and mouth to avoid the spray.
Your bladder may be weak, but even you aren't used to showing in cyclops piss.
You rub your eyes, and open them. It doesn't sting. Good. You open them fully. The hydra is dead for good.
The leader elf guy rambles on in anger about something, and then the gate to the outdoors releases. They're letting you go.
First you carefully harvest some hydra venom glands. Mythologically speaking that stuff can kill with a touch, and you have no idea if leaving this arena will transport you home or not.
And with that, Y/N, the champion of the arena, slayer of monsters, walks off into the sunset. | I yawned and stretched, and rubbed out my ear to clear the ringing from the roar of the great beast across the sand. The walls were high, as necessary, but the Hydra across the way was still at eye level with the front and second row seats. I needed to get started before it started plucking spectators off the stands, that made people upset. I started across the sand, testing the string of my yew bow. When I broke into the circle of columns halfway in, the Hydra focused finally on me. Good, that was taken care of. It started forward, watching me to see what direction I would run, and when. A true predator. And I was natural prey. But I was not afraid.
I knew the Hydra's weakness. It wasn't fire to cauterize the severed heads, poison to bypass the regeneration, or some kind of trick with swallowing bombs. No. The Hydra had the same weakness they had all had: The cyclops. The basilisk. The dragon.
From behind me emerged my secret weapon.
It was my friend Greg, also with a yew bow. And just like that, we parted, and walked in opposite directions, circling until the beast was between us. The Hydra didn't have to do that fun, 'whip head back and forth between two targets' thing. It had enough heads to look at both of us. But it could only chase one, and it quickly chose me, probably pissed at how nonchalant I was. It took a few steps towards me, and that's when Greg shot it in the back of the heel.
We'd worked on this, the painful spots that would get the bastards to wheel around and switch. First few battles we plugged them anywhere, the Grizzly looked like a pincushion. When the arrow lodged in it's sensitive heel, the Hydra screamed, my ears rang again, and it turned to charge at Greg, who darted back, weaving around the columns. He was faster than when he started, but the Hydra was a natural predator, bound to catch fleeing prey. So I shot it in the ear. Well, an ear.
The Hydra screamed again, and wheeled to charge at me, completely forgetting Greg, who waited as it chased me, got close, and shot it again. Back and forth. We went for the legs and eyes first, slowing it. Whoever it was chasing would run, dodge, weave. Only as long as it took the other to line up the next shot. If that didn't bring it back, more shots, and it eventually did turn, or get distracted enough to lose it's target. By this method we wore it down, the way we'd worn down the others, for as fast and deadly as any beast is, it is only one, and we are two, and thus twice as fast. The economy of action is a broken concept. | |
[WP] You, a mere human, find yourself inside an arena and pitted against all sorts of supernatural beings in combat. Being a diehard fantasy fan however, you know their weaknesses. All of them. | I clutched the lute- lyre? Mandolin? Fuck if I know it was a stringed instrument. I really wish I'd learned more music stuff. Fae were easy, an iron blade handled them. And silver for the werewolf and the vampire. But a giant three headed dog? Presumably a sharp blade would handle it but I had to get close.
And it was four goddamn stories tall. The crowd was sure that I'd fail, I could hear them baying for my blood. Humans were not exactly popular here, wherever here was. I practiced the fingerings that stoner had shown me in high school, hoping an acoustic guitar wasn't too far off from this... Banjo? Sitar? Is a sitar a stringed instrument?
"I'm so fucked." I whispered as the enormous gate rumbled open. A hush fell as Cerberus eyed me with six baleful, luminous yellow eyes the size of beach balls. A low growl deep enough to vibrate my bones rose into three piercing howls that hurt my ears and nearly caused me to void my bowels.
I resolutely strummed the fucking stringed thingy.
Bum bum bummm
Bum bum babum
Bum bum bummm
Bum bum babumm
"Smooooke on the waaaater- Fiyah in the sky-ah!" My off tune and frankly piss poor recitation echoed off the great arena, the audience stunned into utter silence. I kept playing. I only knew the chorus.
I got through a second stanza or chorus or whatever when I noticed the leftmost head of Cerberus lower a bit, it's eyes dimming slightly as a gentle yawn rippled down it's corded neck to shake it's flanks, like an exhausted trucker vainly trying to shake another thirty minutes of wakefulness out of his floundering consciousness.
*Holy fucking shit, it's working.*
So I sang that same line, and badly played those notes for thirty minutes, until this barn sized beast laid down for its last nap. As I cautiously drew the sword and pointed it at what I assumed was the location of Cerberus' heart, I heard the Lord of the Arena murmur, "Are you fucking kidding me..." | I yawned and stretched, and rubbed out my ear to clear the ringing from the roar of the great beast across the sand. The walls were high, as necessary, but the Hydra across the way was still at eye level with the front and second row seats. I needed to get started before it started plucking spectators off the stands, that made people upset. I started across the sand, testing the string of my yew bow. When I broke into the circle of columns halfway in, the Hydra focused finally on me. Good, that was taken care of. It started forward, watching me to see what direction I would run, and when. A true predator. And I was natural prey. But I was not afraid.
I knew the Hydra's weakness. It wasn't fire to cauterize the severed heads, poison to bypass the regeneration, or some kind of trick with swallowing bombs. No. The Hydra had the same weakness they had all had: The cyclops. The basilisk. The dragon.
From behind me emerged my secret weapon.
It was my friend Greg, also with a yew bow. And just like that, we parted, and walked in opposite directions, circling until the beast was between us. The Hydra didn't have to do that fun, 'whip head back and forth between two targets' thing. It had enough heads to look at both of us. But it could only chase one, and it quickly chose me, probably pissed at how nonchalant I was. It took a few steps towards me, and that's when Greg shot it in the back of the heel.
We'd worked on this, the painful spots that would get the bastards to wheel around and switch. First few battles we plugged them anywhere, the Grizzly looked like a pincushion. When the arrow lodged in it's sensitive heel, the Hydra screamed, my ears rang again, and it turned to charge at Greg, who darted back, weaving around the columns. He was faster than when he started, but the Hydra was a natural predator, bound to catch fleeing prey. So I shot it in the ear. Well, an ear.
The Hydra screamed again, and wheeled to charge at me, completely forgetting Greg, who waited as it chased me, got close, and shot it again. Back and forth. We went for the legs and eyes first, slowing it. Whoever it was chasing would run, dodge, weave. Only as long as it took the other to line up the next shot. If that didn't bring it back, more shots, and it eventually did turn, or get distracted enough to lose it's target. By this method we wore it down, the way we'd worn down the others, for as fast and deadly as any beast is, it is only one, and we are two, and thus twice as fast. The economy of action is a broken concept. | |
[WP] You, a mere human, find yourself inside an arena and pitted against all sorts of supernatural beings in combat. Being a diehard fantasy fan however, you know their weaknesses. All of them. | You enter the arena. You know not why you are here, nor how, but as you look around you see beams of moonlight illuminating the space around you, as atop the walls spectators are cheering and hollering in excitement, speaking a language you don't recognize. They are all fair skinned, slim, long haired, .... pointed eared.
Elves?
Theres no way that's right, you think to yourself.
The first of many doors opposite you opens
The man across from you is pale, with slitted, catlike eyes and sharp teeth. Blood stains his black coat.
He attempts to make eye contact, but you avert your eyes from his gaze. You don't know for sure, but if your suspicions are correct, eye contact could mean game over.
Those suspicions are confirmed as the man transforms into a bat, quickly flies over to you transforming back and attempting to grab you.
He moved so fast it startled you, and you've never had a strong bladder. You hold it in. Then you have an idea.
Before he can grab you you drop your trousers, and piss on the vampire, knowing that vampires are weak to water, the same way they are to garlic, or as slugs are to salt. The foul undead dies once more, and after you're done urinating, you pull your pants back up and the next door begins to open.
You know that just pissing on opponents won't work every time, because its unlikely all of them would be weak to water. So you use your time wisely, pulling out your pocket knife, and removing the flesh from the vampires bodies arm, pulling out the bone in hopes of using it as a weapon.
Your next opponent is a cyclops. 3 times your height one massive eye in the center of its face. It wields no weapons, but you suspect its fists and bite are enough. But you know what to do.
You run. As the cyclops chases you you drag the bone along the walls of the arena, causing it to chip and crack, and and as it thins out, begins to sharpen. You turn to face the beast, and you throw the makeshift spear, directly into the beasts eye.
It hits. The eye pops, and the giant falls on its ass, blinded, and losing blood.
They don't even give you time to rest a second once the one eyed colossus collapses, a bone chilling howl emanating from the next opponents door, as a large semi bipedal wolf charges directly at you with bloodlust in its eyes.
You smile. This will be too easy.
You pull back your sleeve and remove the antique pocket watch from your wrist. It belonged to your grandfather, and its made from real silver.
The last thing he werewolf heard was the strange humans war cry.
"YEET!"
The Wolfman, whose skull had been smashed ppen by the thrown pocket watch (silver vs werewolves and all that), was very much dead, though its corpse shifted back into its human form. You retrieved the bone spear and the watch, as the next malicious mythological enters the ring.
The minotaur approaches. Each step reverberating through the earth. It scans its surroundings eager for a meal.
You think back for a second to the original myth, and remember how the minotaur ate people.
Oh yeah. Its all coming together.
You lift the remains of your last adversary, and toss the human body infront of the minotaur. It acts as expected tearing into your offering.
As its distracted you sharpen your bone spear with your pocket knife, turning it into more of a sword than a spear.
While the bull faced monstrosity finishes its feast, you sneak up behind it and slash its back, aiming to cut it through the spine.
It takes more strength than you thought it would, considering Theseus also only used a sword, but he was probably stronger than you, had more experience, and his weapon was an actual sword as opposed to a makeshift bone blade.
However, you do manage to damage its spine enough to paralyze it from the neck down.
You aim for the eyes. The minotaur has been slain.
The audience loves it.
The elf in the fancy robes with the crown on his head on the makeshift throne that is also the highest seat, doess not share the enthusiasm of his subjects.
The spectators gasp when he says something, you don't know what he said because you don't speak elvish, but you can guess that it's bad.
A door you didn't notice before opens. Bigger than the overs, but covered in dust.
You hear a roar.
That sounded like no earth animal. But you've heard that sound somewhere. Probably from a fantasy movie. Then you remember. That sounded like a dragon....
The ground shakes, each footstep like a small earthquake. Your mind races, trying to think of any possible weaknesses a dragon could have. You remember that some stories feature dragons having soft underbellies, originating from a norse myth. That idea is thrown out the window as the beast steps into the light.
Green scales. Red eyes. Eight heads, wriggling and writhing like snakes.
THE HYDRA HAS COME TO PUT AN END TO YOUR BULLSHIT
If you had fire with you, you could cut off the heads and light the stumps ablaze so they can't regrow, like Heracles did. Unfortunately you don't carry a lighter on your person during day to day life.
You swear you can hear the doom soundtrack in the back of your mind as the hydra slowly, approaches.
How can you destroy a regenerating threat.
You remember the last time you asked that question. Playing dnd back in high-school. Your party was fighting a troll. You were new to the game. You all were. "How do we defeat a regenerating opponent" was the question you asked when you saw it regenerate. None of your party could deal fire damage (noob mistake really), but you eventually figured it out. Acid damage. And sure enough that worked.
Now how could you get acid to deal with the hydra. Other than urinating, because urine wouldn't be a strong enough acid.
You cut open the minotaur, and pulled out its stomach. You cut a head off of the hydra, running between chomping heads. You cut open the stomach and drench the stump in acid before two new heads could regrow.
You remove another and dump more acid.
After drenching 4 stumps, with 4 heads remaining, you flee to the cyclops body, and remove its stomach aswell.
You remove 3 more heads, each one easily then the last, since you have less heads to dodge. But the cyclops stomach acid is weaker than the minotaur, and you need to use more to prevent regrowth.
1 head remains.
You consider the possibility that this is the version of the hydra from one of the versions of the original Greek myth, where the last head is immortal, abd instead of regrowing, will merely become a detached head trying to bit your ankles. But if not, chopping it off could lead to it just regrowing, or worse, growing two heads, as most know it for.
You have an idea.
You remove a second organ from the cyclops, and charge at the final head.
You cut it off.
You throw the organ and cut it open in midair.
Urine rains down upon the both of you, and you close your eyes and mouth to avoid the spray.
Your bladder may be weak, but even you aren't used to showing in cyclops piss.
You rub your eyes, and open them. It doesn't sting. Good. You open them fully. The hydra is dead for good.
The leader elf guy rambles on in anger about something, and then the gate to the outdoors releases. They're letting you go.
First you carefully harvest some hydra venom glands. Mythologically speaking that stuff can kill with a touch, and you have no idea if leaving this arena will transport you home or not.
And with that, Y/N, the champion of the arena, slayer of monsters, walks off into the sunset. | A failed experiment, a detestable human and most recently, humanity's Guardian of Light. All the nouns that describe me, the "Light" of the arena, which comes from my name "Lux" that my summoner assigns to me due to my glowing innate mana. However, contrary to my status and skills as a butcher of monsters, demons and demi-humans alike, I wasn't born this way nor I was raised to be like this either. While it is true that throughout my 30 years of life, I was trained in the way of battle, learnt every weapons, every tactics, every movements optimized for combat and fought numerous battles to hone my senses and skills from physical feats to magical spells. But it's all to fulfill a single long-cherished wish left behind by my forefathers: "Create an environment where humans can thrive, can flourish, without fear of the unknown threats from beyond." I learnt two things really quickly from that wish.
The first is where my true name "Eden" comes from. It means "safe haven", the end goal of my family's wish. While it's just a name, my true name, it has become the pillar of my heart, hoping to save myself from this hell one day. It has also kept my humanity alive over the brutal years of gladiatorship. A butcher I may be, but I won't kill surrendered enemies. Saying it is easy but driven by bloodlust, surrounded by killing intent, urged on by the jeering audience that loves seeing brutality on display, one would have a hard time NOT granting the death blows to their enemies. That's what is referred as "mercy" as my fellow humans would put it. Because of this "mercy" I have showed time and time again, I'm a "failed experiment", a failed summon from another continent to this hell hole of an arena to kill in a blood sport spectacle that can't kill if the enemy yield. That's what the arena's managers and summoners call me.
The second was what these "threats" were, as I was introduced to them during the downtime of my training regimen. At first I was just thought that they are mere "fantasy beings" via all the stories and board games. I was very intrigued by the existence of beings I have no knowledge of that can be very exciting to spar with. "Know the enemy and know yourself in a hundred battles you will never be in peril" so I was told and I really took it to heart as I learned all there was to know about them. From their weakness be it elemental or some specific substance, their vulnerable spots be it vital or sensory organs, to their combat style, patterns, weapons and magics. I also had some hands-on simulation battles with my trainers using illusion magic to imitate these creatures to hone my senses and reactions.
Throughout it all, I never questioned the most basic knowledge that I had since I was first introduced to them: "They are *fantasy*." Not until I was spirited away to this arena, dropped into the ring with a sharpened sword, fighting to the death with a bull-headed beast did I realize my misconception. With my knowledge coupled with superb training and honed senses, I would always triumph over any and all oppositions in the ring. "A detestable human" that's akin to a cockroach that won't die and in turns best the cream of the crop from every race. That's what the audience calls me.
However, this is all in the past, I am now a freed man, set out to fulfill my family's wish once more. How I was liberated was a stroke of luck if nothing else. I was forbidden from any and all information of the outside world during my gladiatorship so what I was told from my savior is all I know.
During the second invasion of the Demon Lord to human's territory, my savior Dean fought on the frontline and the tide of battle turned drastically. After fighting continuously on the frontline, pushing the defensive line from the neutral undeveloped lands all the way to the Demon Lord's capital, the Demon Lord sent out a peace envoy to hope to avoid total annihilation.
During the peace talks, however, Dean heard a most unsavory rumor from the whispering guards about the "Light" of the arena was actually a human. So with the help of some mages, Dean managed to snuck into the Arena premium resting lounge and found me.
"Oh a new face!" - Hatal the Orge exclaimed as an unfamiliar elf waltz through the luxurious door.
While most people here didn't bat an eye at his entrance, they certainly looked his way as he made his way towards me in the corner of the room.
Me with my brooding atmosphere and sinister aura that threaten to cut down any intruders never had company barring for the overly friendly Hatal or the polite but hot headed illusionist Fey.
The former believed in my "mercy" code while the latter just have a really twisted sense of thrill. Granted, she does seem wary of my aura that could kill on a touch so she never dares to sit near me physically, even after getting friendly with me for several months now.
"Oi, rude elf don't just—" Fey's illusion fades before she could finished as the new face sat in her seat like meeting an old friend.
"Hey, are you "Lux", the human, per chance?" - His soothing voice sounds oddly confident.
"So what if I am?" - I vaguely respond, trying to sound out his intention.
"This elf is dead meat." I heard Fey's voice half a room away as she conjures up her illusion soldiers.
"Oi elf, you pissed off Fey. Watch yourself!" Hatal warned the oblivious elf still seated as if the swordsman illusion rushing him was of no importance.
"Well, I'm thinking of giving you back your freedom if you so choose." The elf continues fully confident that I am "Lux".
"Ha." I chuckled as the swordsman illusion stabbed through the elf body. But contrary to everyone's belief, the swordsman fades away with no harm done to the elf as he kept his calm smile and awaits my next words.
Everyone here knows how deadly Fey's mental attacks from illusions can be, they are illusions and cannot inflict physical wounds or interact with the material world but they can caused mind rending pain as mental attacks.
Seeing the elf unfazed, I continued: "You talked about breaking me out while you are imprisoned here just like me, what can you do about the summoner's subservient contract huh?"
"Hmm? What can I do? Subjugating the summoner is an option, no? If they refuse to destroy the contract, just eliminate them?" He responded like the most obvious thing in the world but the feats is impossible for the contractee to turn on the contractor.
Normally, the contractor commands the contractee via their name, ideally their "true name". Using one's "true name" allows the contractor to commands with no limitation or risks. However, since the summoner who summoned me do not know my true name, they just assigned me a name "Lux" and compel me to do their biddings. As long as I do not forget my true name "Eden", "Lux" will forever be a referral.
When I'm ordered, I feel a compulsion, not a soul binding command. I can rebel and kill the summoner using my "true name" to command myself but I only have one chance. If I fail my rebellion, I will be subjected to this hell to the truest sense of the word, to live and die by the audience's whims and favors.
By now, a dozen or so of Fey's soldiers have run the elf through but nothing visibly change on the elf's face. Fey was sweating bullets over her ineffective attacks, canceled her illusions and hope the elf let her go after his aggressive statement towards the managers of the arena.
"Yea sounds easy enough, how about you do that for me then, I'll break out of here by myself when I no longer feel the contract's shackle on me." I responded jokingly thinking this elf is out of his mind.
*Maybe his insanity numbs all perception of mental attacks so Fey's illusion is not working.* I hypothesize a reasonable thought about how he is acting so carefreely against Fey's attacks.
"Alright, I'll do just that then. I'll solve the contract issue tonight so I hope to see you on the outskirt of the city by the tent with a red white cross flag by first light. Tell the guard that Dean sends you along with this." He said concluding the talks and leaving behind detached a cat bell of sort.
As I put the cat bell to my pocket, I asked one last question as he stands up and heads for the door: "Are you really an elf?"
He laughably responds: "No but I had a friend who have been trying far more advanced attacks against me so what your friend Fey did was cute." | |
[WP] You, a mere human, find yourself inside an arena and pitted against all sorts of supernatural beings in combat. Being a diehard fantasy fan however, you know their weaknesses. All of them. | I clutched the lute- lyre? Mandolin? Fuck if I know it was a stringed instrument. I really wish I'd learned more music stuff. Fae were easy, an iron blade handled them. And silver for the werewolf and the vampire. But a giant three headed dog? Presumably a sharp blade would handle it but I had to get close.
And it was four goddamn stories tall. The crowd was sure that I'd fail, I could hear them baying for my blood. Humans were not exactly popular here, wherever here was. I practiced the fingerings that stoner had shown me in high school, hoping an acoustic guitar wasn't too far off from this... Banjo? Sitar? Is a sitar a stringed instrument?
"I'm so fucked." I whispered as the enormous gate rumbled open. A hush fell as Cerberus eyed me with six baleful, luminous yellow eyes the size of beach balls. A low growl deep enough to vibrate my bones rose into three piercing howls that hurt my ears and nearly caused me to void my bowels.
I resolutely strummed the fucking stringed thingy.
Bum bum bummm
Bum bum babum
Bum bum bummm
Bum bum babumm
"Smooooke on the waaaater- Fiyah in the sky-ah!" My off tune and frankly piss poor recitation echoed off the great arena, the audience stunned into utter silence. I kept playing. I only knew the chorus.
I got through a second stanza or chorus or whatever when I noticed the leftmost head of Cerberus lower a bit, it's eyes dimming slightly as a gentle yawn rippled down it's corded neck to shake it's flanks, like an exhausted trucker vainly trying to shake another thirty minutes of wakefulness out of his floundering consciousness.
*Holy fucking shit, it's working.*
So I sang that same line, and badly played those notes for thirty minutes, until this barn sized beast laid down for its last nap. As I cautiously drew the sword and pointed it at what I assumed was the location of Cerberus' heart, I heard the Lord of the Arena murmur, "Are you fucking kidding me..." | A failed experiment, a detestable human and most recently, humanity's Guardian of Light. All the nouns that describe me, the "Light" of the arena, which comes from my name "Lux" that my summoner assigns to me due to my glowing innate mana. However, contrary to my status and skills as a butcher of monsters, demons and demi-humans alike, I wasn't born this way nor I was raised to be like this either. While it is true that throughout my 30 years of life, I was trained in the way of battle, learnt every weapons, every tactics, every movements optimized for combat and fought numerous battles to hone my senses and skills from physical feats to magical spells. But it's all to fulfill a single long-cherished wish left behind by my forefathers: "Create an environment where humans can thrive, can flourish, without fear of the unknown threats from beyond." I learnt two things really quickly from that wish.
The first is where my true name "Eden" comes from. It means "safe haven", the end goal of my family's wish. While it's just a name, my true name, it has become the pillar of my heart, hoping to save myself from this hell one day. It has also kept my humanity alive over the brutal years of gladiatorship. A butcher I may be, but I won't kill surrendered enemies. Saying it is easy but driven by bloodlust, surrounded by killing intent, urged on by the jeering audience that loves seeing brutality on display, one would have a hard time NOT granting the death blows to their enemies. That's what is referred as "mercy" as my fellow humans would put it. Because of this "mercy" I have showed time and time again, I'm a "failed experiment", a failed summon from another continent to this hell hole of an arena to kill in a blood sport spectacle that can't kill if the enemy yield. That's what the arena's managers and summoners call me.
The second was what these "threats" were, as I was introduced to them during the downtime of my training regimen. At first I was just thought that they are mere "fantasy beings" via all the stories and board games. I was very intrigued by the existence of beings I have no knowledge of that can be very exciting to spar with. "Know the enemy and know yourself in a hundred battles you will never be in peril" so I was told and I really took it to heart as I learned all there was to know about them. From their weakness be it elemental or some specific substance, their vulnerable spots be it vital or sensory organs, to their combat style, patterns, weapons and magics. I also had some hands-on simulation battles with my trainers using illusion magic to imitate these creatures to hone my senses and reactions.
Throughout it all, I never questioned the most basic knowledge that I had since I was first introduced to them: "They are *fantasy*." Not until I was spirited away to this arena, dropped into the ring with a sharpened sword, fighting to the death with a bull-headed beast did I realize my misconception. With my knowledge coupled with superb training and honed senses, I would always triumph over any and all oppositions in the ring. "A detestable human" that's akin to a cockroach that won't die and in turns best the cream of the crop from every race. That's what the audience calls me.
However, this is all in the past, I am now a freed man, set out to fulfill my family's wish once more. How I was liberated was a stroke of luck if nothing else. I was forbidden from any and all information of the outside world during my gladiatorship so what I was told from my savior is all I know.
During the second invasion of the Demon Lord to human's territory, my savior Dean fought on the frontline and the tide of battle turned drastically. After fighting continuously on the frontline, pushing the defensive line from the neutral undeveloped lands all the way to the Demon Lord's capital, the Demon Lord sent out a peace envoy to hope to avoid total annihilation.
During the peace talks, however, Dean heard a most unsavory rumor from the whispering guards about the "Light" of the arena was actually a human. So with the help of some mages, Dean managed to snuck into the Arena premium resting lounge and found me.
"Oh a new face!" - Hatal the Orge exclaimed as an unfamiliar elf waltz through the luxurious door.
While most people here didn't bat an eye at his entrance, they certainly looked his way as he made his way towards me in the corner of the room.
Me with my brooding atmosphere and sinister aura that threaten to cut down any intruders never had company barring for the overly friendly Hatal or the polite but hot headed illusionist Fey.
The former believed in my "mercy" code while the latter just have a really twisted sense of thrill. Granted, she does seem wary of my aura that could kill on a touch so she never dares to sit near me physically, even after getting friendly with me for several months now.
"Oi, rude elf don't just—" Fey's illusion fades before she could finished as the new face sat in her seat like meeting an old friend.
"Hey, are you "Lux", the human, per chance?" - His soothing voice sounds oddly confident.
"So what if I am?" - I vaguely respond, trying to sound out his intention.
"This elf is dead meat." I heard Fey's voice half a room away as she conjures up her illusion soldiers.
"Oi elf, you pissed off Fey. Watch yourself!" Hatal warned the oblivious elf still seated as if the swordsman illusion rushing him was of no importance.
"Well, I'm thinking of giving you back your freedom if you so choose." The elf continues fully confident that I am "Lux".
"Ha." I chuckled as the swordsman illusion stabbed through the elf body. But contrary to everyone's belief, the swordsman fades away with no harm done to the elf as he kept his calm smile and awaits my next words.
Everyone here knows how deadly Fey's mental attacks from illusions can be, they are illusions and cannot inflict physical wounds or interact with the material world but they can caused mind rending pain as mental attacks.
Seeing the elf unfazed, I continued: "You talked about breaking me out while you are imprisoned here just like me, what can you do about the summoner's subservient contract huh?"
"Hmm? What can I do? Subjugating the summoner is an option, no? If they refuse to destroy the contract, just eliminate them?" He responded like the most obvious thing in the world but the feats is impossible for the contractee to turn on the contractor.
Normally, the contractor commands the contractee via their name, ideally their "true name". Using one's "true name" allows the contractor to commands with no limitation or risks. However, since the summoner who summoned me do not know my true name, they just assigned me a name "Lux" and compel me to do their biddings. As long as I do not forget my true name "Eden", "Lux" will forever be a referral.
When I'm ordered, I feel a compulsion, not a soul binding command. I can rebel and kill the summoner using my "true name" to command myself but I only have one chance. If I fail my rebellion, I will be subjected to this hell to the truest sense of the word, to live and die by the audience's whims and favors.
By now, a dozen or so of Fey's soldiers have run the elf through but nothing visibly change on the elf's face. Fey was sweating bullets over her ineffective attacks, canceled her illusions and hope the elf let her go after his aggressive statement towards the managers of the arena.
"Yea sounds easy enough, how about you do that for me then, I'll break out of here by myself when I no longer feel the contract's shackle on me." I responded jokingly thinking this elf is out of his mind.
*Maybe his insanity numbs all perception of mental attacks so Fey's illusion is not working.* I hypothesize a reasonable thought about how he is acting so carefreely against Fey's attacks.
"Alright, I'll do just that then. I'll solve the contract issue tonight so I hope to see you on the outskirt of the city by the tent with a red white cross flag by first light. Tell the guard that Dean sends you along with this." He said concluding the talks and leaving behind detached a cat bell of sort.
As I put the cat bell to my pocket, I asked one last question as he stands up and heads for the door: "Are you really an elf?"
He laughably responds: "No but I had a friend who have been trying far more advanced attacks against me so what your friend Fey did was cute." | |
[WP] You, a mere human, find yourself inside an arena and pitted against all sorts of supernatural beings in combat. Being a diehard fantasy fan however, you know their weaknesses. All of them. | I clutched the lute- lyre? Mandolin? Fuck if I know it was a stringed instrument. I really wish I'd learned more music stuff. Fae were easy, an iron blade handled them. And silver for the werewolf and the vampire. But a giant three headed dog? Presumably a sharp blade would handle it but I had to get close.
And it was four goddamn stories tall. The crowd was sure that I'd fail, I could hear them baying for my blood. Humans were not exactly popular here, wherever here was. I practiced the fingerings that stoner had shown me in high school, hoping an acoustic guitar wasn't too far off from this... Banjo? Sitar? Is a sitar a stringed instrument?
"I'm so fucked." I whispered as the enormous gate rumbled open. A hush fell as Cerberus eyed me with six baleful, luminous yellow eyes the size of beach balls. A low growl deep enough to vibrate my bones rose into three piercing howls that hurt my ears and nearly caused me to void my bowels.
I resolutely strummed the fucking stringed thingy.
Bum bum bummm
Bum bum babum
Bum bum bummm
Bum bum babumm
"Smooooke on the waaaater- Fiyah in the sky-ah!" My off tune and frankly piss poor recitation echoed off the great arena, the audience stunned into utter silence. I kept playing. I only knew the chorus.
I got through a second stanza or chorus or whatever when I noticed the leftmost head of Cerberus lower a bit, it's eyes dimming slightly as a gentle yawn rippled down it's corded neck to shake it's flanks, like an exhausted trucker vainly trying to shake another thirty minutes of wakefulness out of his floundering consciousness.
*Holy fucking shit, it's working.*
So I sang that same line, and badly played those notes for thirty minutes, until this barn sized beast laid down for its last nap. As I cautiously drew the sword and pointed it at what I assumed was the location of Cerberus' heart, I heard the Lord of the Arena murmur, "Are you fucking kidding me..." | You enter the arena. You know not why you are here, nor how, but as you look around you see beams of moonlight illuminating the space around you, as atop the walls spectators are cheering and hollering in excitement, speaking a language you don't recognize. They are all fair skinned, slim, long haired, .... pointed eared.
Elves?
Theres no way that's right, you think to yourself.
The first of many doors opposite you opens
The man across from you is pale, with slitted, catlike eyes and sharp teeth. Blood stains his black coat.
He attempts to make eye contact, but you avert your eyes from his gaze. You don't know for sure, but if your suspicions are correct, eye contact could mean game over.
Those suspicions are confirmed as the man transforms into a bat, quickly flies over to you transforming back and attempting to grab you.
He moved so fast it startled you, and you've never had a strong bladder. You hold it in. Then you have an idea.
Before he can grab you you drop your trousers, and piss on the vampire, knowing that vampires are weak to water, the same way they are to garlic, or as slugs are to salt. The foul undead dies once more, and after you're done urinating, you pull your pants back up and the next door begins to open.
You know that just pissing on opponents won't work every time, because its unlikely all of them would be weak to water. So you use your time wisely, pulling out your pocket knife, and removing the flesh from the vampires bodies arm, pulling out the bone in hopes of using it as a weapon.
Your next opponent is a cyclops. 3 times your height one massive eye in the center of its face. It wields no weapons, but you suspect its fists and bite are enough. But you know what to do.
You run. As the cyclops chases you you drag the bone along the walls of the arena, causing it to chip and crack, and and as it thins out, begins to sharpen. You turn to face the beast, and you throw the makeshift spear, directly into the beasts eye.
It hits. The eye pops, and the giant falls on its ass, blinded, and losing blood.
They don't even give you time to rest a second once the one eyed colossus collapses, a bone chilling howl emanating from the next opponents door, as a large semi bipedal wolf charges directly at you with bloodlust in its eyes.
You smile. This will be too easy.
You pull back your sleeve and remove the antique pocket watch from your wrist. It belonged to your grandfather, and its made from real silver.
The last thing he werewolf heard was the strange humans war cry.
"YEET!"
The Wolfman, whose skull had been smashed ppen by the thrown pocket watch (silver vs werewolves and all that), was very much dead, though its corpse shifted back into its human form. You retrieved the bone spear and the watch, as the next malicious mythological enters the ring.
The minotaur approaches. Each step reverberating through the earth. It scans its surroundings eager for a meal.
You think back for a second to the original myth, and remember how the minotaur ate people.
Oh yeah. Its all coming together.
You lift the remains of your last adversary, and toss the human body infront of the minotaur. It acts as expected tearing into your offering.
As its distracted you sharpen your bone spear with your pocket knife, turning it into more of a sword than a spear.
While the bull faced monstrosity finishes its feast, you sneak up behind it and slash its back, aiming to cut it through the spine.
It takes more strength than you thought it would, considering Theseus also only used a sword, but he was probably stronger than you, had more experience, and his weapon was an actual sword as opposed to a makeshift bone blade.
However, you do manage to damage its spine enough to paralyze it from the neck down.
You aim for the eyes. The minotaur has been slain.
The audience loves it.
The elf in the fancy robes with the crown on his head on the makeshift throne that is also the highest seat, doess not share the enthusiasm of his subjects.
The spectators gasp when he says something, you don't know what he said because you don't speak elvish, but you can guess that it's bad.
A door you didn't notice before opens. Bigger than the overs, but covered in dust.
You hear a roar.
That sounded like no earth animal. But you've heard that sound somewhere. Probably from a fantasy movie. Then you remember. That sounded like a dragon....
The ground shakes, each footstep like a small earthquake. Your mind races, trying to think of any possible weaknesses a dragon could have. You remember that some stories feature dragons having soft underbellies, originating from a norse myth. That idea is thrown out the window as the beast steps into the light.
Green scales. Red eyes. Eight heads, wriggling and writhing like snakes.
THE HYDRA HAS COME TO PUT AN END TO YOUR BULLSHIT
If you had fire with you, you could cut off the heads and light the stumps ablaze so they can't regrow, like Heracles did. Unfortunately you don't carry a lighter on your person during day to day life.
You swear you can hear the doom soundtrack in the back of your mind as the hydra slowly, approaches.
How can you destroy a regenerating threat.
You remember the last time you asked that question. Playing dnd back in high-school. Your party was fighting a troll. You were new to the game. You all were. "How do we defeat a regenerating opponent" was the question you asked when you saw it regenerate. None of your party could deal fire damage (noob mistake really), but you eventually figured it out. Acid damage. And sure enough that worked.
Now how could you get acid to deal with the hydra. Other than urinating, because urine wouldn't be a strong enough acid.
You cut open the minotaur, and pulled out its stomach. You cut a head off of the hydra, running between chomping heads. You cut open the stomach and drench the stump in acid before two new heads could regrow.
You remove another and dump more acid.
After drenching 4 stumps, with 4 heads remaining, you flee to the cyclops body, and remove its stomach aswell.
You remove 3 more heads, each one easily then the last, since you have less heads to dodge. But the cyclops stomach acid is weaker than the minotaur, and you need to use more to prevent regrowth.
1 head remains.
You consider the possibility that this is the version of the hydra from one of the versions of the original Greek myth, where the last head is immortal, abd instead of regrowing, will merely become a detached head trying to bit your ankles. But if not, chopping it off could lead to it just regrowing, or worse, growing two heads, as most know it for.
You have an idea.
You remove a second organ from the cyclops, and charge at the final head.
You cut it off.
You throw the organ and cut it open in midair.
Urine rains down upon the both of you, and you close your eyes and mouth to avoid the spray.
Your bladder may be weak, but even you aren't used to showing in cyclops piss.
You rub your eyes, and open them. It doesn't sting. Good. You open them fully. The hydra is dead for good.
The leader elf guy rambles on in anger about something, and then the gate to the outdoors releases. They're letting you go.
First you carefully harvest some hydra venom glands. Mythologically speaking that stuff can kill with a touch, and you have no idea if leaving this arena will transport you home or not.
And with that, Y/N, the champion of the arena, slayer of monsters, walks off into the sunset. | |
[WP] You, a mere human, find yourself inside an arena and pitted against all sorts of supernatural beings in combat. Being a diehard fantasy fan however, you know their weaknesses. All of them. | The crowd was silent. They all practically knew the outcome of the match anyway. The werewolf would kill me in under 30 seconds, an almost-surgical stab through my ribs, deflating my left lung, then a slash through my stomach. Death seconds later, the werewolf eats. How exhilarating.
Except... except...
Before the match began, I asked for a chance to look good before getting disemboweled. They led me to a room filled with beauty products and more. One thing I did was polish my shoes, polish them with shoe polish. Shoe polish, with silver nitrate in it.
*I can't believe I'm going to do this.* I thought as the werewolf howled, a sign it was about to rush me. I slipped off my shoes, holding them both in my hands like small daggers.
I knew I couldn't beat the werewolf to death with shoes, even ones freshly polished, but the match could also end if one party is simply unable to fight.
The werewolf ran toward me on all fours, then pounced in an attempt to land on me. I rolled under it, then got up as quick as I could. Other than silver, werewolves had another weakness, flexibility. I leaped onto its back and got its arms in a headlock. Before it could grab my arms, or worse, roll over, I pressed my shoes into its face. It screamed/roared!
This was the most dangerous part, when the werewolf is blind with pain, but not severely damaged. If it just thrashed around, it could knock me off. I kept pressing my shoes into its face and neck, moving them around to cause the most pain.
It was bellowing now, almost knocking me off by the force of sound alone.
*Just a little more, just a little more.*
I wish I had paid more attention to when my coach was explaining werewolf pain centers. Where was it? Where was it?
There! The werewolf's pain threshold was met, and it was knocked out cold.
I knew it wasn't just a short faint or pretend because as soon as I felt the werewolf go limp, its fur also started receding. It lost height and muscle. It was reverting back to human form.
Now that my heart wasn't beating in my ears, I could hear the crowd.
They were silent, stunned.
The moderator walked from his booth, examined the werewolf, examined me, then finally held up my hand and exclaimed, "Winner!" | \[Poem\]
A collection of monsters here
Vampires, faerie queens, demons, and loup-garou
But with wooden stakes, cold iron blades, hoses full of holy water, and an heirloom silver spear
The last one standing is going to be you. | |
[WP] You, a mere human, find yourself inside an arena and pitted against all sorts of supernatural beings in combat. Being a diehard fantasy fan however, you know their weaknesses. All of them. | I was seventeen the day I slaughtered all the fantastical creatures. If I close my eyes, I can still taste that metallic tang of blood on the breeze, and see myself inside that great arena once more.
It was the year after my mother passed away, and only a week after I started my first job — I made coffees for important people whose own jobs seemed to be brewing coffee for even more important people. How the business made money, who knew? Such was the ladder of life, I supposed. And I was now on the very first rung. Lucky me.
The day of the slaughter: I’d finished work and stepped into the street when the heavens opened. Silver rain gusted down in waves, like shimmering shurikens stabbing at the sidewalk, puncturing it open to release a dirty subterranean river. Or, maybe it was just rain building into a highway of puddles.
Mom used to say I had a healthy imagination. And maybe I did, but mostly my thoughts were trained by the books I read. Huge fantasy tomes where anything seemed possible; where good would (more often than not) triumph; where magic breathed from flowers and fingers alike. I spent more time with those books than I did with friends — although perhaps that speaks for my lack of friends. Every night without fail, I’d read a fantasy novel until I fell asleep. Even then, I’d dream about what I’d just read.
Now, on the day of the slaughter, I hurried down the street (or waded against the raging torrent released from the earth) my oversized dad-handed-down suit sloppy and heavy with rain.
Out of nowhere, a strong hand grabbed me. Pulled my arm and jerked me into an alley.
”I’ve not got any money,” I said.
”Money?“ The figure pulled back their hood to reveal pearl-smooth skin and slightly pointed ears. She looked familiar, but I couldn’t say quite why. Like an amalgamation, almost, of every elf I’d ever imagined.
“It’s not money we need from you, hero. What we need is in here.” She pressed a finger against my head and I felt a flush of electricity run down me.
Beyond making too-weak or too-strong coffees that got me yelled at, I doubted I could help anyone. “We? Who are ‘we’?”
”The fantasy world. Our existence is under threat, hero. There is a great tournament underway, the result of which could mean the end of everything. We need your help.”
”I don’t see why you’d choose me to help. I’m just… I’m just me.”
”That’s why!” She beamed. “You know more about fantastical beings than perhaps anyone ever before. You know all our strengths and weaknesses. Your life, up to here, has been research and preparation for this moment.”
I stood there in this dark alley as the rain poured over me. I thought of my bleak job. Of my mother, whom I missed more than any world, fantasy or otherwise. I thought of the reality that I hated so much.
”Okay,” I said. “I’ll help.”
“I was certain you would.“ She led me through a doorway at the end of the alley that led me into the other world.
​
I will not go into details of the slaughter. Suffice to say that every creature, good and bad or in between, that I’d ever read about waited for me there.
Whether I won or lost, I knew this would be the final time I would be in this strange world. There was no crowd in the arena to watch. Perhaps they’d all died in battle before I had arrived. Or perhaps they were all lined up to fight me, to kill.
Either way, whatever came out of the gates, I murdered. One by one I cut them down. I outsmarted trolls and found weakness between dragon scales. I betrayed those who thought me on their side. Dwarves, goblins, orcs, griffons, wizards — they all bled. Their blood poured over me like black rain, like tar.
Until, finally, there was only the female elf who had led me here.
“Now you must kill me,” she said.
I looked around at the piles of corpses, only vaguely understanding what I had done. “I… I thought I was fighting for you?”
She smiled. “You were fighting for you. You still are. And you might always be.”
She did not fight back. Just handed me a dagger and held my hand as I plunged it into her heart.
Then there was nothing left in that empty world except for me.
Blood fell like a sea from the sky, drowning me, blinding me.
Then the blood became rain, and the arena became the alleyway, and suddenly I was back in my ordinary, grey world.
My wallet was gone. As was the watch my parents had bought me.
The only other difference to before it all happened was slight. Almost imperceptible: the smell of magic that had once been in my world as well as theirs, that radiated promise from fingers and flowers alike, was gone.
I walked home in the rain — the very ordinary, very wet rain — staring at my shoes.
When I returned home I washed and dried my clothes, then ironed them for tomorrow.
I ate a quiet dinner with my father then went straight to bed.
​
​
My father came to see me later that night. Maybe two or three hours later.
I was still awake. Whenever I’d closed my eyes and tried to sleep there was a blackness beyond black waiting. It terrified me. An emptiness, I suppose it was.
Dad sat on the edge of the bed, and for a while said nothing. Then asked, “anything I can do?”
I couldn’t bring myself tell him I was mugged. Didn’t want to burden him. I glanced at my bookshelf then shook my head.
He must have caught my look as he bit his tongue and thought for a moment.
”The magic you got out of those books,” he said, “was never in the books to start with. You know that?”
”Wherever it was, I killed it today.”
Dad nodded. “I killed the magic once, too. Or more precisely, life killed it, because that’s what it does. I was a little younger than you are. Hey, but it came back! I got it back. And it didn’t leave again once it did.”
I pushed myself up and looked at him, almost afraid to ask the question. “*How*?”
“When you were born.” He smiled. “All the magic and colour rushed back into the world. Look, I think the truth is that magic doesn’t ever die. It just hides or hibernates. It waits for you to come find it again and to coax it out.”
”How do I find it again?” I pleaded.
He shrugged. “I don’t know that. I think it‘s hiding in a different place for each person searching.“
I sank back into my bed.
Dad stood up and put a hand on my shoulder. “I‘ll be here until then — until you find it.“
When he left the room I closed my eyes again. It didn’t seem quite as empty in the darkness anymore. | \[Poem\]
A collection of monsters here
Vampires, faerie queens, demons, and loup-garou
But with wooden stakes, cold iron blades, hoses full of holy water, and an heirloom silver spear
The last one standing is going to be you. | |
[WP] You, a mere human, find yourself inside an arena and pitted against all sorts of supernatural beings in combat. Being a diehard fantasy fan however, you know their weaknesses. All of them. | Deep in the pit where reality twists, in the lower planes where myth and mortal blend, stood a lone figure in the center of The Gulch. It was here where the dirt was slick with blood and sinew; here where many before him had fallen to the horrors that lurked just outside the mortal veil. The clouds had worn their funeral suits, the crowd had donned their masks, and the primeval monster moved around restlessly in its box as the handlers appeared; humanoid atrophied beings adorned in melted candles. They carried with them the iron rods that were used to open the sliding door of the box safely. On both sides, they lifted the hooks under the iron rings and revealed the monster.
The handlers quickly shambled away toward the safety of the wall as the creature emerged. A skinless monstrosity of muscle and tendons awkwardly scrambled out of the box and stomped around a moment as an abhorrent scream escaped its lips- which set, he couldn't tell, for the creature had two mouths. It appeared to be two bodies- a man atop a horse, but he knew better. It was one being horrifically merged together in whatever instant God had blinked. It held a spear in its hands that looked as though it had just been pulled from the guts of a bigger creature.
"A nuckelavee," the man spoke with an eager grin. "I've never actually wrestled with one of your kind." He brushed his blonde hair out of his eyes and rubbed his chin thoughtfully.
The monster didn't waste words after it spotted him. A gruesome red eye opened on the center of what would be the horse's forehead and it screamed yet again before charging toward him, spear at the ready.
He knew his shield wouldn't be enough- the nuckelavee had a secret weapon that would catch a less informed opponent off guard. He deftly dodged the attack and held his breath as the mouth of the horse head parted and blew a green smog across him. Both attacks failed as he retreated out of the smog and watched the monster carefully as it began to turn around at a full gallop.
"Tch... And I wanted to drink this," he muttered as he reached for the gourd on his belt. He unscrewed the cap and watched as the monster started toward him yet again. Its hoofs beat the ground like thunder and shook the ground as it approached. He waited carefully for his moment as it drew nearer and nearer.
*Almost... Almost... A little more...*
He didn't miss his moment. He swung the gourd like a sword, unleashing an arc of freshwater high into the air before lifting his shield and bracing for impact. He knew he wouldn't have time to dodge if he wanted to catch it by surprise. The monster ran through the water and slammed into him at the same time. His shield held strong but his body was flung several feet as the creature writhed in agony. He tumbled to the ground and rolled a few times before scampering back to his feet. He took a deep breath and observed the water's effects.
"Thought you might be thirsty," he commented as he strode toward the creature. It began to wither and corrode as it dropped to the dirt and thrashed around. He hadn't counted on facing a nuckelavee, but it mattered little. He always kept water on hand. He produced his sword for the first time, pulling it from the scabbard on his hip as he positioned himself over the dying creature. The crowd went wild as he plunged his blade into the monster's first head, then the other to be sure.
"Too bad I was your opponent today," he growled before turning to face the handlers, who sat in their chairs with frustrated expressions.
"WHAT'S NEXT?" He screamed. "BRING THEM!"
- - -
No, seriously. What's next. I'm up for suggestions :)
r/A15MinuteMythos | \[Poem\]
A collection of monsters here
Vampires, faerie queens, demons, and loup-garou
But with wooden stakes, cold iron blades, hoses full of holy water, and an heirloom silver spear
The last one standing is going to be you. | |
[WP] You, a mere human, find yourself inside an arena and pitted against all sorts of supernatural beings in combat. Being a diehard fantasy fan however, you know their weaknesses. All of them. | A flash, a bang.
Whisked away through time and space, beyond the veil and past the universe, into the void and yonder.
The mind burns, the body grasps for a hold but finds none. You travel in an ethereal cloud, watched and gazed by a horde of distorted faces in a tunnel of voices. A decision, a sentence.
Suddenly, your feet find a solid hold and you fall to your knees.
There will be a fight. You have been chosen to entertain the crowd, to suffer and die for the twisted amusement of a fantastic crowd. A puny human versus legendary creatures. You get a good look at them.
Somehow, you expected monsters.
Well, these are monsters all right, but not in the *incomprehensible-creatures-from-beyond* sense. These are more in a *not-very-original* sense. Not a single being that you haven't heard of, in stories, in books, in movies, in tales.
The sphinx wears a crown and commands authority. It is king. As it speaks, all fall silent.
"You are allowed one wish before heading to the arena."
The entire room falls silent when you ask for a fully equipped kitchen. They did not expect that, fail to understand.
A promise is a promise. The yellow field that will soon run red is surrounded by gray walls adorned with spikes. On them, rows of seats for the eager spectators. And in the middle of the sand, your dream come true: the most equipped kitchen you ever had.
The gates open.
Enter the slaughterers. Hostile, violent, used to kill and maim.
The crowd is audibly disturbed when the medusa is stabbed through the throat as you walk backwards, holding a pristine knife as mirror.
The blood-sucker is drenched in salt and battered to death with a sack of flour.
The centaur is lured by the scent of wine and bludgeoned as he enjoys the fine drink.
The gruesome spectacle does not end here, though. There is snake and horse meat to cook now, more than you could have afforded in the other world. And dear lords above, you love cooking.
The crowd leaves, horrified. There is no rule stipulating how the defeated are to be handled. No law is broken as the anticuchos are grilled. Tonight, a new monster has been born.
You fall asleep under a purple sky, belly full with the delicious dish you just sampled.
Bigger foes are brought in the next day. These are not here to amuse, but to kill the abomination that has made it's home in the arena.
Sadly for the chimera, the meat you have cooked is too delicious to ignore, and it's sticking from a spike above the creature's reach. It spits fire in anger. The sharp metal you had planted inside starts to melt and dips down the lion's mouth.
The chimera is dead from clogged windpipes before it understands what happened.
A crowd is a fickle thing. It can hate one day and love another, and after the first shock, there's an undeniable artistic streak in the way you dispatch your enemies. A twisted sense of aesthetic the people come to enjoy. The king cannot bear it, it is to be loved above all else, and the champion is stealing love away. The slave has become the public's idol.
The sky turns green, dust shimmers on the red field and this time, no one cheers when the gates open. The king enters the arena.
Kings do not get interrupted, kings command quietness by their presence. Force of habit.
A habit you ignore by asking a riddle first.
The sphinx finds your lack of respect despicable, but will solve your riddle before asking one back. And then, it will devour you, so enjoy the seconds you bought yourself, puny mortal. After all, the sphinx knows every answer.
Every answer from this world.
He sure as fuck doesn't know about the fifth generation of Pokemons.
Sweat pearls down the mighty beast's forehead, it stumbles upon its words, tries to buy itself some time to think, it knows the answer, has to.
But when the crowd screams for death, it knows it has lost.
The answer was pignite, by the way. You never played pokemon, but had seen the little creature's design and found it amusing, thus remembered it. Funny how it goes.
Out of alternatives. The king drops its crown and slams himself against the spikes, ending its reign forever.
You could go back, but for what? You have plenty of things to cook here, and where on earth would you get sphinx meat? Wine made of blood-sucker's blood? A manticore jaw kept open to act as an oven? A wild crowd that adores you and gives you offerings daily?
It is strange, but fitting, that in a world of fantastic beasts, you have become their new legend, their mythical creature.
Lord of the arena.
The new big bad wolf for beings who do not behave well.
The gates open.
A cyclop steps on the crimson sand. Twice your height, armed with a gigantic club, shaking to the bones.
You turn towards it with a smile, sharpening a knife.
"Ah, fresh meat." | \[Poem\]
A collection of monsters here
Vampires, faerie queens, demons, and loup-garou
But with wooden stakes, cold iron blades, hoses full of holy water, and an heirloom silver spear
The last one standing is going to be you. | |
[WP] You, a mere human, find yourself inside an arena and pitted against all sorts of supernatural beings in combat. Being a diehard fantasy fan however, you know their weaknesses. All of them. | Deep in the pit where reality twists, in the lower planes where myth and mortal blend, stood a lone figure in the center of The Gulch. It was here where the dirt was slick with blood and sinew; here where many before him had fallen to the horrors that lurked just outside the mortal veil. The clouds had worn their funeral suits, the crowd had donned their masks, and the primeval monster moved around restlessly in its box as the handlers appeared; humanoid atrophied beings adorned in melted candles. They carried with them the iron rods that were used to open the sliding door of the box safely. On both sides, they lifted the hooks under the iron rings and revealed the monster.
The handlers quickly shambled away toward the safety of the wall as the creature emerged. A skinless monstrosity of muscle and tendons awkwardly scrambled out of the box and stomped around a moment as an abhorrent scream escaped its lips- which set, he couldn't tell, for the creature had two mouths. It appeared to be two bodies- a man atop a horse, but he knew better. It was one being horrifically merged together in whatever instant God had blinked. It held a spear in its hands that looked as though it had just been pulled from the guts of a bigger creature.
"A nuckelavee," the man spoke with an eager grin. "I've never actually wrestled with one of your kind." He brushed his blonde hair out of his eyes and rubbed his chin thoughtfully.
The monster didn't waste words after it spotted him. A gruesome red eye opened on the center of what would be the horse's forehead and it screamed yet again before charging toward him, spear at the ready.
He knew his shield wouldn't be enough- the nuckelavee had a secret weapon that would catch a less informed opponent off guard. He deftly dodged the attack and held his breath as the mouth of the horse head parted and blew a green smog across him. Both attacks failed as he retreated out of the smog and watched the monster carefully as it began to turn around at a full gallop.
"Tch... And I wanted to drink this," he muttered as he reached for the gourd on his belt. He unscrewed the cap and watched as the monster started toward him yet again. Its hoofs beat the ground like thunder and shook the ground as it approached. He waited carefully for his moment as it drew nearer and nearer.
*Almost... Almost... A little more...*
He didn't miss his moment. He swung the gourd like a sword, unleashing an arc of freshwater high into the air before lifting his shield and bracing for impact. He knew he wouldn't have time to dodge if he wanted to catch it by surprise. The monster ran through the water and slammed into him at the same time. His shield held strong but his body was flung several feet as the creature writhed in agony. He tumbled to the ground and rolled a few times before scampering back to his feet. He took a deep breath and observed the water's effects.
"Thought you might be thirsty," he commented as he strode toward the creature. It began to wither and corrode as it dropped to the dirt and thrashed around. He hadn't counted on facing a nuckelavee, but it mattered little. He always kept water on hand. He produced his sword for the first time, pulling it from the scabbard on his hip as he positioned himself over the dying creature. The crowd went wild as he plunged his blade into the monster's first head, then the other to be sure.
"Too bad I was your opponent today," he growled before turning to face the handlers, who sat in their chairs with frustrated expressions.
"WHAT'S NEXT?" He screamed. "BRING THEM!"
- - -
No, seriously. What's next. I'm up for suggestions :)
r/A15MinuteMythos | The crowd was silent. They all practically knew the outcome of the match anyway. The werewolf would kill me in under 30 seconds, an almost-surgical stab through my ribs, deflating my left lung, then a slash through my stomach. Death seconds later, the werewolf eats. How exhilarating.
Except... except...
Before the match began, I asked for a chance to look good before getting disemboweled. They led me to a room filled with beauty products and more. One thing I did was polish my shoes, polish them with shoe polish. Shoe polish, with silver nitrate in it.
*I can't believe I'm going to do this.* I thought as the werewolf howled, a sign it was about to rush me. I slipped off my shoes, holding them both in my hands like small daggers.
I knew I couldn't beat the werewolf to death with shoes, even ones freshly polished, but the match could also end if one party is simply unable to fight.
The werewolf ran toward me on all fours, then pounced in an attempt to land on me. I rolled under it, then got up as quick as I could. Other than silver, werewolves had another weakness, flexibility. I leaped onto its back and got its arms in a headlock. Before it could grab my arms, or worse, roll over, I pressed my shoes into its face. It screamed/roared!
This was the most dangerous part, when the werewolf is blind with pain, but not severely damaged. If it just thrashed around, it could knock me off. I kept pressing my shoes into its face and neck, moving them around to cause the most pain.
It was bellowing now, almost knocking me off by the force of sound alone.
*Just a little more, just a little more.*
I wish I had paid more attention to when my coach was explaining werewolf pain centers. Where was it? Where was it?
There! The werewolf's pain threshold was met, and it was knocked out cold.
I knew it wasn't just a short faint or pretend because as soon as I felt the werewolf go limp, its fur also started receding. It lost height and muscle. It was reverting back to human form.
Now that my heart wasn't beating in my ears, I could hear the crowd.
They were silent, stunned.
The moderator walked from his booth, examined the werewolf, examined me, then finally held up my hand and exclaimed, "Winner!" | |
[WP] You, a mere human, find yourself inside an arena and pitted against all sorts of supernatural beings in combat. Being a diehard fantasy fan however, you know their weaknesses. All of them. | A flash, a bang.
Whisked away through time and space, beyond the veil and past the universe, into the void and yonder.
The mind burns, the body grasps for a hold but finds none. You travel in an ethereal cloud, watched and gazed by a horde of distorted faces in a tunnel of voices. A decision, a sentence.
Suddenly, your feet find a solid hold and you fall to your knees.
There will be a fight. You have been chosen to entertain the crowd, to suffer and die for the twisted amusement of a fantastic crowd. A puny human versus legendary creatures. You get a good look at them.
Somehow, you expected monsters.
Well, these are monsters all right, but not in the *incomprehensible-creatures-from-beyond* sense. These are more in a *not-very-original* sense. Not a single being that you haven't heard of, in stories, in books, in movies, in tales.
The sphinx wears a crown and commands authority. It is king. As it speaks, all fall silent.
"You are allowed one wish before heading to the arena."
The entire room falls silent when you ask for a fully equipped kitchen. They did not expect that, fail to understand.
A promise is a promise. The yellow field that will soon run red is surrounded by gray walls adorned with spikes. On them, rows of seats for the eager spectators. And in the middle of the sand, your dream come true: the most equipped kitchen you ever had.
The gates open.
Enter the slaughterers. Hostile, violent, used to kill and maim.
The crowd is audibly disturbed when the medusa is stabbed through the throat as you walk backwards, holding a pristine knife as mirror.
The blood-sucker is drenched in salt and battered to death with a sack of flour.
The centaur is lured by the scent of wine and bludgeoned as he enjoys the fine drink.
The gruesome spectacle does not end here, though. There is snake and horse meat to cook now, more than you could have afforded in the other world. And dear lords above, you love cooking.
The crowd leaves, horrified. There is no rule stipulating how the defeated are to be handled. No law is broken as the anticuchos are grilled. Tonight, a new monster has been born.
You fall asleep under a purple sky, belly full with the delicious dish you just sampled.
Bigger foes are brought in the next day. These are not here to amuse, but to kill the abomination that has made it's home in the arena.
Sadly for the chimera, the meat you have cooked is too delicious to ignore, and it's sticking from a spike above the creature's reach. It spits fire in anger. The sharp metal you had planted inside starts to melt and dips down the lion's mouth.
The chimera is dead from clogged windpipes before it understands what happened.
A crowd is a fickle thing. It can hate one day and love another, and after the first shock, there's an undeniable artistic streak in the way you dispatch your enemies. A twisted sense of aesthetic the people come to enjoy. The king cannot bear it, it is to be loved above all else, and the champion is stealing love away. The slave has become the public's idol.
The sky turns green, dust shimmers on the red field and this time, no one cheers when the gates open. The king enters the arena.
Kings do not get interrupted, kings command quietness by their presence. Force of habit.
A habit you ignore by asking a riddle first.
The sphinx finds your lack of respect despicable, but will solve your riddle before asking one back. And then, it will devour you, so enjoy the seconds you bought yourself, puny mortal. After all, the sphinx knows every answer.
Every answer from this world.
He sure as fuck doesn't know about the fifth generation of Pokemons.
Sweat pearls down the mighty beast's forehead, it stumbles upon its words, tries to buy itself some time to think, it knows the answer, has to.
But when the crowd screams for death, it knows it has lost.
The answer was pignite, by the way. You never played pokemon, but had seen the little creature's design and found it amusing, thus remembered it. Funny how it goes.
Out of alternatives. The king drops its crown and slams himself against the spikes, ending its reign forever.
You could go back, but for what? You have plenty of things to cook here, and where on earth would you get sphinx meat? Wine made of blood-sucker's blood? A manticore jaw kept open to act as an oven? A wild crowd that adores you and gives you offerings daily?
It is strange, but fitting, that in a world of fantastic beasts, you have become their new legend, their mythical creature.
Lord of the arena.
The new big bad wolf for beings who do not behave well.
The gates open.
A cyclop steps on the crimson sand. Twice your height, armed with a gigantic club, shaking to the bones.
You turn towards it with a smile, sharpening a knife.
"Ah, fresh meat." | The crowd was silent. They all practically knew the outcome of the match anyway. The werewolf would kill me in under 30 seconds, an almost-surgical stab through my ribs, deflating my left lung, then a slash through my stomach. Death seconds later, the werewolf eats. How exhilarating.
Except... except...
Before the match began, I asked for a chance to look good before getting disemboweled. They led me to a room filled with beauty products and more. One thing I did was polish my shoes, polish them with shoe polish. Shoe polish, with silver nitrate in it.
*I can't believe I'm going to do this.* I thought as the werewolf howled, a sign it was about to rush me. I slipped off my shoes, holding them both in my hands like small daggers.
I knew I couldn't beat the werewolf to death with shoes, even ones freshly polished, but the match could also end if one party is simply unable to fight.
The werewolf ran toward me on all fours, then pounced in an attempt to land on me. I rolled under it, then got up as quick as I could. Other than silver, werewolves had another weakness, flexibility. I leaped onto its back and got its arms in a headlock. Before it could grab my arms, or worse, roll over, I pressed my shoes into its face. It screamed/roared!
This was the most dangerous part, when the werewolf is blind with pain, but not severely damaged. If it just thrashed around, it could knock me off. I kept pressing my shoes into its face and neck, moving them around to cause the most pain.
It was bellowing now, almost knocking me off by the force of sound alone.
*Just a little more, just a little more.*
I wish I had paid more attention to when my coach was explaining werewolf pain centers. Where was it? Where was it?
There! The werewolf's pain threshold was met, and it was knocked out cold.
I knew it wasn't just a short faint or pretend because as soon as I felt the werewolf go limp, its fur also started receding. It lost height and muscle. It was reverting back to human form.
Now that my heart wasn't beating in my ears, I could hear the crowd.
They were silent, stunned.
The moderator walked from his booth, examined the werewolf, examined me, then finally held up my hand and exclaimed, "Winner!" | |
[WP] You, a mere human, find yourself inside an arena and pitted against all sorts of supernatural beings in combat. Being a diehard fantasy fan however, you know their weaknesses. All of them. | Deep in the pit where reality twists, in the lower planes where myth and mortal blend, stood a lone figure in the center of The Gulch. It was here where the dirt was slick with blood and sinew; here where many before him had fallen to the horrors that lurked just outside the mortal veil. The clouds had worn their funeral suits, the crowd had donned their masks, and the primeval monster moved around restlessly in its box as the handlers appeared; humanoid atrophied beings adorned in melted candles. They carried with them the iron rods that were used to open the sliding door of the box safely. On both sides, they lifted the hooks under the iron rings and revealed the monster.
The handlers quickly shambled away toward the safety of the wall as the creature emerged. A skinless monstrosity of muscle and tendons awkwardly scrambled out of the box and stomped around a moment as an abhorrent scream escaped its lips- which set, he couldn't tell, for the creature had two mouths. It appeared to be two bodies- a man atop a horse, but he knew better. It was one being horrifically merged together in whatever instant God had blinked. It held a spear in its hands that looked as though it had just been pulled from the guts of a bigger creature.
"A nuckelavee," the man spoke with an eager grin. "I've never actually wrestled with one of your kind." He brushed his blonde hair out of his eyes and rubbed his chin thoughtfully.
The monster didn't waste words after it spotted him. A gruesome red eye opened on the center of what would be the horse's forehead and it screamed yet again before charging toward him, spear at the ready.
He knew his shield wouldn't be enough- the nuckelavee had a secret weapon that would catch a less informed opponent off guard. He deftly dodged the attack and held his breath as the mouth of the horse head parted and blew a green smog across him. Both attacks failed as he retreated out of the smog and watched the monster carefully as it began to turn around at a full gallop.
"Tch... And I wanted to drink this," he muttered as he reached for the gourd on his belt. He unscrewed the cap and watched as the monster started toward him yet again. Its hoofs beat the ground like thunder and shook the ground as it approached. He waited carefully for his moment as it drew nearer and nearer.
*Almost... Almost... A little more...*
He didn't miss his moment. He swung the gourd like a sword, unleashing an arc of freshwater high into the air before lifting his shield and bracing for impact. He knew he wouldn't have time to dodge if he wanted to catch it by surprise. The monster ran through the water and slammed into him at the same time. His shield held strong but his body was flung several feet as the creature writhed in agony. He tumbled to the ground and rolled a few times before scampering back to his feet. He took a deep breath and observed the water's effects.
"Thought you might be thirsty," he commented as he strode toward the creature. It began to wither and corrode as it dropped to the dirt and thrashed around. He hadn't counted on facing a nuckelavee, but it mattered little. He always kept water on hand. He produced his sword for the first time, pulling it from the scabbard on his hip as he positioned himself over the dying creature. The crowd went wild as he plunged his blade into the monster's first head, then the other to be sure.
"Too bad I was your opponent today," he growled before turning to face the handlers, who sat in their chairs with frustrated expressions.
"WHAT'S NEXT?" He screamed. "BRING THEM!"
- - -
No, seriously. What's next. I'm up for suggestions :)
r/A15MinuteMythos | I was seventeen the day I slaughtered all the fantastical creatures. If I close my eyes, I can still taste that metallic tang of blood on the breeze, and see myself inside that great arena once more.
It was the year after my mother passed away, and only a week after I started my first job — I made coffees for important people whose own jobs seemed to be brewing coffee for even more important people. How the business made money, who knew? Such was the ladder of life, I supposed. And I was now on the very first rung. Lucky me.
The day of the slaughter: I’d finished work and stepped into the street when the heavens opened. Silver rain gusted down in waves, like shimmering shurikens stabbing at the sidewalk, puncturing it open to release a dirty subterranean river. Or, maybe it was just rain building into a highway of puddles.
Mom used to say I had a healthy imagination. And maybe I did, but mostly my thoughts were trained by the books I read. Huge fantasy tomes where anything seemed possible; where good would (more often than not) triumph; where magic breathed from flowers and fingers alike. I spent more time with those books than I did with friends — although perhaps that speaks for my lack of friends. Every night without fail, I’d read a fantasy novel until I fell asleep. Even then, I’d dream about what I’d just read.
Now, on the day of the slaughter, I hurried down the street (or waded against the raging torrent released from the earth) my oversized dad-handed-down suit sloppy and heavy with rain.
Out of nowhere, a strong hand grabbed me. Pulled my arm and jerked me into an alley.
”I’ve not got any money,” I said.
”Money?“ The figure pulled back their hood to reveal pearl-smooth skin and slightly pointed ears. She looked familiar, but I couldn’t say quite why. Like an amalgamation, almost, of every elf I’d ever imagined.
“It’s not money we need from you, hero. What we need is in here.” She pressed a finger against my head and I felt a flush of electricity run down me.
Beyond making too-weak or too-strong coffees that got me yelled at, I doubted I could help anyone. “We? Who are ‘we’?”
”The fantasy world. Our existence is under threat, hero. There is a great tournament underway, the result of which could mean the end of everything. We need your help.”
”I don’t see why you’d choose me to help. I’m just… I’m just me.”
”That’s why!” She beamed. “You know more about fantastical beings than perhaps anyone ever before. You know all our strengths and weaknesses. Your life, up to here, has been research and preparation for this moment.”
I stood there in this dark alley as the rain poured over me. I thought of my bleak job. Of my mother, whom I missed more than any world, fantasy or otherwise. I thought of the reality that I hated so much.
”Okay,” I said. “I’ll help.”
“I was certain you would.“ She led me through a doorway at the end of the alley that led me into the other world.
​
I will not go into details of the slaughter. Suffice to say that every creature, good and bad or in between, that I’d ever read about waited for me there.
Whether I won or lost, I knew this would be the final time I would be in this strange world. There was no crowd in the arena to watch. Perhaps they’d all died in battle before I had arrived. Or perhaps they were all lined up to fight me, to kill.
Either way, whatever came out of the gates, I murdered. One by one I cut them down. I outsmarted trolls and found weakness between dragon scales. I betrayed those who thought me on their side. Dwarves, goblins, orcs, griffons, wizards — they all bled. Their blood poured over me like black rain, like tar.
Until, finally, there was only the female elf who had led me here.
“Now you must kill me,” she said.
I looked around at the piles of corpses, only vaguely understanding what I had done. “I… I thought I was fighting for you?”
She smiled. “You were fighting for you. You still are. And you might always be.”
She did not fight back. Just handed me a dagger and held my hand as I plunged it into her heart.
Then there was nothing left in that empty world except for me.
Blood fell like a sea from the sky, drowning me, blinding me.
Then the blood became rain, and the arena became the alleyway, and suddenly I was back in my ordinary, grey world.
My wallet was gone. As was the watch my parents had bought me.
The only other difference to before it all happened was slight. Almost imperceptible: the smell of magic that had once been in my world as well as theirs, that radiated promise from fingers and flowers alike, was gone.
I walked home in the rain — the very ordinary, very wet rain — staring at my shoes.
When I returned home I washed and dried my clothes, then ironed them for tomorrow.
I ate a quiet dinner with my father then went straight to bed.
​
​
My father came to see me later that night. Maybe two or three hours later.
I was still awake. Whenever I’d closed my eyes and tried to sleep there was a blackness beyond black waiting. It terrified me. An emptiness, I suppose it was.
Dad sat on the edge of the bed, and for a while said nothing. Then asked, “anything I can do?”
I couldn’t bring myself tell him I was mugged. Didn’t want to burden him. I glanced at my bookshelf then shook my head.
He must have caught my look as he bit his tongue and thought for a moment.
”The magic you got out of those books,” he said, “was never in the books to start with. You know that?”
”Wherever it was, I killed it today.”
Dad nodded. “I killed the magic once, too. Or more precisely, life killed it, because that’s what it does. I was a little younger than you are. Hey, but it came back! I got it back. And it didn’t leave again once it did.”
I pushed myself up and looked at him, almost afraid to ask the question. “*How*?”
“When you were born.” He smiled. “All the magic and colour rushed back into the world. Look, I think the truth is that magic doesn’t ever die. It just hides or hibernates. It waits for you to come find it again and to coax it out.”
”How do I find it again?” I pleaded.
He shrugged. “I don’t know that. I think it‘s hiding in a different place for each person searching.“
I sank back into my bed.
Dad stood up and put a hand on my shoulder. “I‘ll be here until then — until you find it.“
When he left the room I closed my eyes again. It didn’t seem quite as empty in the darkness anymore. | |
[WP] You, a mere human, find yourself inside an arena and pitted against all sorts of supernatural beings in combat. Being a diehard fantasy fan however, you know their weaknesses. All of them. | A flash, a bang.
Whisked away through time and space, beyond the veil and past the universe, into the void and yonder.
The mind burns, the body grasps for a hold but finds none. You travel in an ethereal cloud, watched and gazed by a horde of distorted faces in a tunnel of voices. A decision, a sentence.
Suddenly, your feet find a solid hold and you fall to your knees.
There will be a fight. You have been chosen to entertain the crowd, to suffer and die for the twisted amusement of a fantastic crowd. A puny human versus legendary creatures. You get a good look at them.
Somehow, you expected monsters.
Well, these are monsters all right, but not in the *incomprehensible-creatures-from-beyond* sense. These are more in a *not-very-original* sense. Not a single being that you haven't heard of, in stories, in books, in movies, in tales.
The sphinx wears a crown and commands authority. It is king. As it speaks, all fall silent.
"You are allowed one wish before heading to the arena."
The entire room falls silent when you ask for a fully equipped kitchen. They did not expect that, fail to understand.
A promise is a promise. The yellow field that will soon run red is surrounded by gray walls adorned with spikes. On them, rows of seats for the eager spectators. And in the middle of the sand, your dream come true: the most equipped kitchen you ever had.
The gates open.
Enter the slaughterers. Hostile, violent, used to kill and maim.
The crowd is audibly disturbed when the medusa is stabbed through the throat as you walk backwards, holding a pristine knife as mirror.
The blood-sucker is drenched in salt and battered to death with a sack of flour.
The centaur is lured by the scent of wine and bludgeoned as he enjoys the fine drink.
The gruesome spectacle does not end here, though. There is snake and horse meat to cook now, more than you could have afforded in the other world. And dear lords above, you love cooking.
The crowd leaves, horrified. There is no rule stipulating how the defeated are to be handled. No law is broken as the anticuchos are grilled. Tonight, a new monster has been born.
You fall asleep under a purple sky, belly full with the delicious dish you just sampled.
Bigger foes are brought in the next day. These are not here to amuse, but to kill the abomination that has made it's home in the arena.
Sadly for the chimera, the meat you have cooked is too delicious to ignore, and it's sticking from a spike above the creature's reach. It spits fire in anger. The sharp metal you had planted inside starts to melt and dips down the lion's mouth.
The chimera is dead from clogged windpipes before it understands what happened.
A crowd is a fickle thing. It can hate one day and love another, and after the first shock, there's an undeniable artistic streak in the way you dispatch your enemies. A twisted sense of aesthetic the people come to enjoy. The king cannot bear it, it is to be loved above all else, and the champion is stealing love away. The slave has become the public's idol.
The sky turns green, dust shimmers on the red field and this time, no one cheers when the gates open. The king enters the arena.
Kings do not get interrupted, kings command quietness by their presence. Force of habit.
A habit you ignore by asking a riddle first.
The sphinx finds your lack of respect despicable, but will solve your riddle before asking one back. And then, it will devour you, so enjoy the seconds you bought yourself, puny mortal. After all, the sphinx knows every answer.
Every answer from this world.
He sure as fuck doesn't know about the fifth generation of Pokemons.
Sweat pearls down the mighty beast's forehead, it stumbles upon its words, tries to buy itself some time to think, it knows the answer, has to.
But when the crowd screams for death, it knows it has lost.
The answer was pignite, by the way. You never played pokemon, but had seen the little creature's design and found it amusing, thus remembered it. Funny how it goes.
Out of alternatives. The king drops its crown and slams himself against the spikes, ending its reign forever.
You could go back, but for what? You have plenty of things to cook here, and where on earth would you get sphinx meat? Wine made of blood-sucker's blood? A manticore jaw kept open to act as an oven? A wild crowd that adores you and gives you offerings daily?
It is strange, but fitting, that in a world of fantastic beasts, you have become their new legend, their mythical creature.
Lord of the arena.
The new big bad wolf for beings who do not behave well.
The gates open.
A cyclop steps on the crimson sand. Twice your height, armed with a gigantic club, shaking to the bones.
You turn towards it with a smile, sharpening a knife.
"Ah, fresh meat." | I was seventeen the day I slaughtered all the fantastical creatures. If I close my eyes, I can still taste that metallic tang of blood on the breeze, and see myself inside that great arena once more.
It was the year after my mother passed away, and only a week after I started my first job — I made coffees for important people whose own jobs seemed to be brewing coffee for even more important people. How the business made money, who knew? Such was the ladder of life, I supposed. And I was now on the very first rung. Lucky me.
The day of the slaughter: I’d finished work and stepped into the street when the heavens opened. Silver rain gusted down in waves, like shimmering shurikens stabbing at the sidewalk, puncturing it open to release a dirty subterranean river. Or, maybe it was just rain building into a highway of puddles.
Mom used to say I had a healthy imagination. And maybe I did, but mostly my thoughts were trained by the books I read. Huge fantasy tomes where anything seemed possible; where good would (more often than not) triumph; where magic breathed from flowers and fingers alike. I spent more time with those books than I did with friends — although perhaps that speaks for my lack of friends. Every night without fail, I’d read a fantasy novel until I fell asleep. Even then, I’d dream about what I’d just read.
Now, on the day of the slaughter, I hurried down the street (or waded against the raging torrent released from the earth) my oversized dad-handed-down suit sloppy and heavy with rain.
Out of nowhere, a strong hand grabbed me. Pulled my arm and jerked me into an alley.
”I’ve not got any money,” I said.
”Money?“ The figure pulled back their hood to reveal pearl-smooth skin and slightly pointed ears. She looked familiar, but I couldn’t say quite why. Like an amalgamation, almost, of every elf I’d ever imagined.
“It’s not money we need from you, hero. What we need is in here.” She pressed a finger against my head and I felt a flush of electricity run down me.
Beyond making too-weak or too-strong coffees that got me yelled at, I doubted I could help anyone. “We? Who are ‘we’?”
”The fantasy world. Our existence is under threat, hero. There is a great tournament underway, the result of which could mean the end of everything. We need your help.”
”I don’t see why you’d choose me to help. I’m just… I’m just me.”
”That’s why!” She beamed. “You know more about fantastical beings than perhaps anyone ever before. You know all our strengths and weaknesses. Your life, up to here, has been research and preparation for this moment.”
I stood there in this dark alley as the rain poured over me. I thought of my bleak job. Of my mother, whom I missed more than any world, fantasy or otherwise. I thought of the reality that I hated so much.
”Okay,” I said. “I’ll help.”
“I was certain you would.“ She led me through a doorway at the end of the alley that led me into the other world.
​
I will not go into details of the slaughter. Suffice to say that every creature, good and bad or in between, that I’d ever read about waited for me there.
Whether I won or lost, I knew this would be the final time I would be in this strange world. There was no crowd in the arena to watch. Perhaps they’d all died in battle before I had arrived. Or perhaps they were all lined up to fight me, to kill.
Either way, whatever came out of the gates, I murdered. One by one I cut them down. I outsmarted trolls and found weakness between dragon scales. I betrayed those who thought me on their side. Dwarves, goblins, orcs, griffons, wizards — they all bled. Their blood poured over me like black rain, like tar.
Until, finally, there was only the female elf who had led me here.
“Now you must kill me,” she said.
I looked around at the piles of corpses, only vaguely understanding what I had done. “I… I thought I was fighting for you?”
She smiled. “You were fighting for you. You still are. And you might always be.”
She did not fight back. Just handed me a dagger and held my hand as I plunged it into her heart.
Then there was nothing left in that empty world except for me.
Blood fell like a sea from the sky, drowning me, blinding me.
Then the blood became rain, and the arena became the alleyway, and suddenly I was back in my ordinary, grey world.
My wallet was gone. As was the watch my parents had bought me.
The only other difference to before it all happened was slight. Almost imperceptible: the smell of magic that had once been in my world as well as theirs, that radiated promise from fingers and flowers alike, was gone.
I walked home in the rain — the very ordinary, very wet rain — staring at my shoes.
When I returned home I washed and dried my clothes, then ironed them for tomorrow.
I ate a quiet dinner with my father then went straight to bed.
​
​
My father came to see me later that night. Maybe two or three hours later.
I was still awake. Whenever I’d closed my eyes and tried to sleep there was a blackness beyond black waiting. It terrified me. An emptiness, I suppose it was.
Dad sat on the edge of the bed, and for a while said nothing. Then asked, “anything I can do?”
I couldn’t bring myself tell him I was mugged. Didn’t want to burden him. I glanced at my bookshelf then shook my head.
He must have caught my look as he bit his tongue and thought for a moment.
”The magic you got out of those books,” he said, “was never in the books to start with. You know that?”
”Wherever it was, I killed it today.”
Dad nodded. “I killed the magic once, too. Or more precisely, life killed it, because that’s what it does. I was a little younger than you are. Hey, but it came back! I got it back. And it didn’t leave again once it did.”
I pushed myself up and looked at him, almost afraid to ask the question. “*How*?”
“When you were born.” He smiled. “All the magic and colour rushed back into the world. Look, I think the truth is that magic doesn’t ever die. It just hides or hibernates. It waits for you to come find it again and to coax it out.”
”How do I find it again?” I pleaded.
He shrugged. “I don’t know that. I think it‘s hiding in a different place for each person searching.“
I sank back into my bed.
Dad stood up and put a hand on my shoulder. “I‘ll be here until then — until you find it.“
When he left the room I closed my eyes again. It didn’t seem quite as empty in the darkness anymore. | |
[WP] The world's villains have a reputation to uphold, and being impeccably well dressed is imperative. You're the one they turn to when they want to dress to impress. They call you: the Tailor. | In a world dominated by humans capable of truly impressive feats of heinous criminality, somehow I have concentrated considerable power. Despite possessing none of the mental, physical, or creative attributes of my main clientele, my ability wielding a tape measure and cutting exquisite cloths puts me at the centre of their everyday lives. These people can manipulate the levers of power, funnel funds from foes, and succeed using nefarious means; what they cannot do, however, is dress themselves.
In the circles in which these people move, the one mutual touchstone is The Tailor. It's an oddly powerful ego trip acknowledging my own nickname. More so knowing that, as quiet, unassuming gentleman who has no interest in bending the rules of society to move higher up the food chain, my name would not be uttered in the underground bunkers of power. Whereas this used to unsettle me, there's a sense of security to be felt from possessing that knowledge.
Previously, my customers were the villains of the publicly elected kind. Having made a name for myself in the town of one politician, it wasn't long before I began taking orders from the masses of least human-like people I have ever encountered. Despite endless diatribes about harbouring desire to improve the lives of local people, from what I could tell they were only seeking an endless supply of new suits and dresses to have more pockets to stuff with tax takings.
Once you start serving the criminals with a public mandate, it isn't long before the truly capable of unscrupulous activities emerge from the shadows. Despite knowing who these people are, what they're capable of, and that they possess little remorse or lasing affection, it felt better to clothe the dank underbelly than the smiling face of deceit.
The vanity of political classes is well known. Nothing said or done is for the public good, it's only ever to further their individual career ambitions. To achieve this requires a lot of schmoozing at private residences and dinner parties with rich, flashy individuals. To maintain their ego amongst those deemed well dressed, they turned to me for something understated but undeniably fashionable. To look good was understood to be 90% of securing party funds.
This is only furthered by the crowds of people who make a living stealing the wealth of others. As these people cannot openly express their day to day dealings, looking good is their only means of public endearment, and their egos demand it. Not a single one wants to be outdone by their counterparts. Every public outing requires a show-stopping garment capable of drawing gawks and gasps from onlookers, and inciting envy in those they compete with.
Whereas my scissors may be gliding smoothly through the fabric now, I live in fear that one frayed edge may unravel this business, and possibly my life. Despite creating the decorative curtains that prevent onlookers seeing through these murky windows, I am fully aware that they can be pulled down and used to strangle me. Until then, consider that the anonymous person walking around in a needlessly exquisite suit or elegant dress likely does not live the life of luxury you imagine. And that they all rely on the The Tailor. | I watch the news, Sam the Snake had revealed his control over half the world's banks. I'm proud of his suit. Because he's rarely battles, I gave him a green tuxedo, and if the light catches it the right way the scale pattern emerges. It's mostly formal but with just enough sinister.
My doorbell rings. I have no appointments. Is there a fashion emergency? I look at the camera, they aren't wearing a suit and I barely recognize them. Some low tier supervillain who thinks themselves important enough to not make an appointment.
"I'm afraid you need an appointment" I say over the intercom.
"I am FrostMan and I'm here to take you down villian," he says. He's a hero no wonder I didn't recognize him. FrostMan, he's the self proclaimed best Superhero of New Jersey.
"Fine. Come in. I'm not a villian, though" if I don't let him in, he'll just break down the door. Heros are ride that way.
FrostMan comes in looking ready to fight.
"What do you want?" I ask, "I'm just a tailor"
"I know you're in league with all the major villians. What are you planning?"
"I just make their outfits. If villians even want a little respect, they have to look exquisite. Heros just seen to be able to get lots of respect with their terrible outfits, bad manners, and loose codes,"
"We earn the people's respect through our actions. And even if you're not planning anything, you're in contact with villians. Help me find them," FrostMan says, overconfident like all heros.
"I don't know where any villians are. They contact me when they need outfits. And I wouldn't divulge that info anyways. I have standards," I say.
FrostMan looks ready to fight. I press a button calling my robot guards. They take FrostMan and dump him off on an island. I guess I have to move my tailor shop again. I take off plunk it down in some remote part of Canada, and notify there villians that I've moved. They should be able to find out where. | |
[WP] You are a hero, but you have no tragic backstory. Nobody believes you when you say that your village is fine and that your mentor is eagerly awaiting your first letter home. | A group of warriors were making their way on horseback through a forest to reach their destination, the place where the final battle was to take place. The two males and two females decided to make camp in a clearing for the night. After tieing up and taking care of the horses they started a fire and cooked their meal.
During the meal each of them shared their tragic backstories. Stories of how they lost their families, love, villages and mentors to the evil that they were going to fight.
Daegal : I remember the first time I faced our enemy’s troops ! I was 10 summers old when they descended on my village. Our crops were burned, grains were stolen women were violated and then decapitated just like the men. Us children were imprisioned. We were then sold into slavery, day after day I saw my peers being sold to monsters till they got to me. I was sold to an old wealthy man who wanted a boy to amuse him. He had his people teach me art of battle, weaponary, music and much more. Then he had me and the other enslaved children put up plays and performances for his pleasure. And if he didn’t like it then he would have us whipped and starved till we were at the deaths door. I’m the only one who was able to survive his cruelty.
Leon : I was but 5 summers old at my first encounter. Just like you they had descended like a tsunami at our village. My mother had pushed me towards the forest and told me to run till I could no more. And I obeyed her, that’s the only memory I have of her. I ran and ran till I reached a cave, there I met my mentor. He became like a father to me, the only family I was left with in this world. He taught me everything he knew and trained me in archery. But alas a group of maurders trying to make a quick coin, stabbed him to death for the one gold coin he had on him during one of our travels. Since then I’ve vowed to get rid of these scums.
Freya : The first time I encountered our enemy was on my wedding day. It was supposed to be the happiest day of my life. My love had proposed and our families were happy. He was hunter and loved to take me out on picnics, he was the one who taught me the art of dagger throwing and gifted me my cherished set. Right in the middle of our vows did those bastards descended on our village like a silent plague and struck him down in front of me. I was able to take out one of their eyes and the other’s hand before making my escape. Since that day I’ve only focused on two things, perfecting my art and revenge. What about you Alora ? When was the first time you encountered them ?
Alora : Honestly ? I’ve actually not encountered them. You remember the sanctuary where we met for the first time ? Well I was learning healing magic there along with combat magic. When I heard about your quest it occurred to me that you guys never took medical aid into account. Heck you guys didn’t even have proper medical supplies with you. And well the battle plans did sound kinda fun. So I decided to join you.
Daegal : Wait you have no personal vendetta against our enemy ??
Leon : No trauma or heartbreak caused by them ??
Freya : And joined us because you thought we need a medic and because the battle plans sounded fun ??
Alora : Umm, yeah.
Daegal, Leon and Freya : We need to train you !!!!!! | It was early evening in the village of Pottsbury. Spring had brought with it a large bounty of crops, and the markets bustling with activity of merchants and buyers haggling over various wares. But not tonight, for Spring has also heralded the arrival of the rainy season. The only sound, the pitter patter of the rain, and perhaps also the occasional croak of frogs and toads enjoying the showers. However, if one were to simply stroll around just outside the center of Pottsbury, one would find themselves among warm company, good drink, and merriment. For you would find yourself at the door of the Rabbit Choke Tavern and Inn.
It's on this gloomy night that we find our heroes back from another long quest, and with them new friends and companions. Laughter and song fill the air, and a cheerful fire roars in on the left side as one enters. McClint, the owner of the inn, and his sweet daughter Clara sit behind the bar, with large grinning expressions, enjoy the tales of danger, death, and beautiful women.
As Madds the Boisterous ends his account of the defeat of the Forest Lich, which came about because the fiend was surprisingly ticklish, laughter erupted, and toasts to victory were made.
"Aaaahhh! This here is what I fight! Good ale, and good company!" Madds belted out, ale dripping down his great beard as he took another swig. After agreements of "Here here!" from the rest, they too brought tankards to dry lips and joined him in another drink. | |
[WP] You are a hero, but you have no tragic backstory. Nobody believes you when you say that your village is fine and that your mentor is eagerly awaiting your first letter home. | It has been a week now since the party decided to adventure together. Some were out for treasures, others for glory, and again others for answers. The hero's decided to stay the night in a tavern to eat, drink and sleep.
"Finally, It's been a while since I've had some proper moonshine. Hey, barkeep! Bring me something that will burn my throat!" exclaimed Leo the warrior. His pockets were overflowing with gold and trinkets that he looted from his fallen enemies. He was the second oldest of the group, only Sai was older.
"Hey Leo, how come a guy like you loves gold so much? I'd always imagined you were more of an honor guy." asked Alexia. She was a mage capable of wielding the power of ice.
"You really wanna know?"
"If you do not mind, I would also like to hear your story." Both Leo and Alexia turned to Sai, the monk who has said about a total of 30 words since the beginning of their adventure; including those he said just now.
"Bloody hell, you talk? I thought you were mute." asked Leo, but Sai did not answer.
"I think he uses cursed speech. If he talks to much, he puts those around him at risk." explained Alexia.
"Well alright. Suppose I can share something about my past while Rowan is getting the room keys. When I was about eleven, I did a lot of stupid shit. Me and my brothers went to the marketplace in town and stole food, clothes, money, and whatever else we could get away with. We did that almost everyday, but not because we were dumb kids that enjoyed the thrill. Well, not *just* because of that. We did it because our family was piss poor. My mother was sick and my father was an alcoholic who didn't work. So we stole food, clothes and sometimes medicine. One day while out and about doing our rounds, my brother was caught. My older brother. We were doing it for so long, we basically helped them develop their security. And what did I do? Fucking nothing. I was a thief, not a fighter. I couldn't hold my own in a fight. Later that night my brother returned, beat black and blue. He told us what the shopkeep told him, that he'd show no mercy on the next bandit. Some of those guys, let me tell you.. they were not kind on people trying to steal their wares. Anyways, my younger brother went out the next day before I woke up. I never saw him again, and my mom died shorty after too. So I went to the military. I wanted to get stronger, I didn't wanna get beat up like my brother did. But I never did lose my knack for gold, heh. Yeah.." He fell quiet from that point forth, tilting his head down and folding his hands anxiously, not even reacting to the drink the bartender just set down in front of him.
"Im sorry." said Alexia. "I also lost my mother. I grew up just south-east of here, in the desert. Many mages lived in the city, my father one of them. He was very proud of his pyromancy and awaited eagerly for me to develop my powers. My mother never liked to talk about that, and now I know why. My father, or who I thought was my father, killed my mother after finding out I had ice powers. Turns out he wasn't my father after all, and my mother had an affair with a frost mage. I loved my mother. In rage, I summoned pillars of ice from the ground and impaled him with a hundred icicles. I was found guilty of murder and had to flee. Im travelling north in hopes of finding my real father. I can never return home after what had happened." A frozen tear slid down her cheek and shattered as it hit the ground.
The entire front bar fell silent, and everyone looked depressed. Everyone but Sai, who always looked as docile as he does presently.
"Good news, I got us all individual rooms!" Said Rowan, throwing Leo a key that bounced off his sad head.
"..Nice catch. Whats wrong, where did the good mood go, guys? Aren't you excited for some fresh, white linen after we've been sleeping on the ground for the past week?"
"Sit down Rowan, tell us about your past." Said Leo as he bend down to grab the key off the ground.
"My past? Like, my childhood?"
"Sure."
"Alright. Well, I grew up west of here in Locket. Fairly big village with-"
"Locket? Ain't that under King Hearthwell's rule?"
Alexia elbowed Leo in the side. "Don't interupt his story."
"Sorry. Continue."
"..It is, yeah. The king is very generous. Anyways, fairly big village, lots of land for crops and livestock. I went to school in 'Wenham's school for educations and swordmanship' where-"
"Oh, you could afford an education?"
Alexia elbowed Leo again, this time with more force. "Shut it, I'm sure he'll get to the tragic part in time."
"Right. Sorry."
"..So in school I learned all kinds of things, reading, mathematics, sword fighting, but I was only really good as sword fighting. My family sent me to that school specifically because of a tradition we had: At age 16, the boy has to leave the village for at least 4 years and may only return after slaying his assigned target. I trained with my mentor almost everyday, he was like family to me. And on my 16th birthday, my parents and my mentor watched me leave the village, prepared and ready. They are very proud of me. I had actually just written them this letter and-"
"THAT WAS IT?!" Shouted Leo, who had been building up rage from the moment he heard that Rowan was able to attend school.
"Did you at least have a brother or sister that died?!"
"I- No, I am an only child."
"Its strange that he suffered no trauma but come on Leo, It's not so bad!" Alexia tried calming him down.
"How's a boy supposed to prepare for the world if he doesn't experience such things from a young age?! How is he supposed know who is about to stab him in the back if he has never been betrayed!? How will this weakling survive with just a sword but not the capacity to bear the death of his loved ones should that ever hap-" Leo stops talking as the tip of a sword pokes at his neck.
"You talk too much. Take care of your own problems before you come at me trying to solve mine."
"GENTLEMEN!" Everyone turned to the barkeep who was standing behind the bar with crossed arms and an angry look on his face, ready to kick the whole group out. Rowan sheathed his sword and Leo calmed down as well. They all sat in silence for a while, everyone contemplating just walking out and abandoning the party.
Alexia was the first to break the ice. "So, Rowan.. you have to slay some target huh? Are you a contract killer or something?"
"Oh, no, but it is customary for a boy leaving my village to defeat one truly evil being before returning as part of the maturing process. My target is the nameless, an evil monk who invades adventurer groups under a false name and slaughters them during dusk after their first week together has transpired. He is said to use cursed speech, but I haven't the idea of how I would be able to find or identify him."
"..."
"..."
"..."
"What?" | Clenching the arm of my chair, I try to ignore my therapist’s pitiful gaze and offer my most authentic smile. In return, he sighs, clicks his pen, and scribbles some more notes in his journal.
“Alice, I know it’s a difficult process,” my therapist hesitates. “Many of the heroes who have come in here before have refused to open up, terrified at even the thought of exploring their past. Eventually, every client who comes in here will talk.”
“See, that’s what I’ve been trying to tell you,” I attempt another smile, failing miserably. “There’s nothing to talk about — there hasn’t been anything terrible to happen in the first place. Please stop asking me if my parents were stabbed in an alleyway or if my town exploded to prices. If you want trauma, the only thing that’s bringing it are your questions.”
He shakes his head. “My poor Alice, this goes deeper than I initially thought. Repressed memories can be difficult to deal with — I should know, I’ve been in superhero counseling for the last thirteen years. One of my clients, a Flight user, spent months in counseling here before she could deal with the thought of her darling leader freezing to death at her feet. Her mentor was practically an icicle. Once she worked through those emotions, she was able to confront the situation.”
“I promise you, my mentor’s fine,” I grit my teeth. “Joe’s been chilling, actually. He just sent me a postcard from Hawaii. Because, you know, he lives there. I do too. Seriously, I was just about to write to him today and ask if he wanted to grab some sushi once these sessions are over as soon as I fly back.”
“Food can be a common tool to cope with loss,” my therapist nods sagely, and I barely resist the urge to punch him. “I was recently published in an esteemed journal for my research between physical and emotional hunger. What does sushi remind you of? Any grocery store abandonment?”
“Okay, I’m done with this,“ I stand up from my chair and yank the door open. “Find someone else to take this job. Look, I’d love to save the world and all, but there’s no way I’m putting up with this shit.”
“You don’t just get to opt out,” something unrecognizable glints in my therapist’s eye, and the door swings shut in my face. “I’d be crazy to throw my last decade of work away for some girl who claims she’s somehow emotionally stable.”
I bang on the door, jingling the handle again and again. It’s ice to the touch, frozen completely shut. My training with Joe doesn’t prepare for me for the swift kick that pummels into my back. I crumple to the floor.
I hear my therapist laugh as the world swims around me.
“Don’t worry,” he chuckles, “I can mange a tragic backstory just fine.” | |
[WP] You are a hero, but you have no tragic backstory. Nobody believes you when you say that your village is fine and that your mentor is eagerly awaiting your first letter home. | It has been a week now since the party decided to adventure together. Some were out for treasures, others for glory, and again others for answers. The hero's decided to stay the night in a tavern to eat, drink and sleep.
"Finally, It's been a while since I've had some proper moonshine. Hey, barkeep! Bring me something that will burn my throat!" exclaimed Leo the warrior. His pockets were overflowing with gold and trinkets that he looted from his fallen enemies. He was the second oldest of the group, only Sai was older.
"Hey Leo, how come a guy like you loves gold so much? I'd always imagined you were more of an honor guy." asked Alexia. She was a mage capable of wielding the power of ice.
"You really wanna know?"
"If you do not mind, I would also like to hear your story." Both Leo and Alexia turned to Sai, the monk who has said about a total of 30 words since the beginning of their adventure; including those he said just now.
"Bloody hell, you talk? I thought you were mute." asked Leo, but Sai did not answer.
"I think he uses cursed speech. If he talks to much, he puts those around him at risk." explained Alexia.
"Well alright. Suppose I can share something about my past while Rowan is getting the room keys. When I was about eleven, I did a lot of stupid shit. Me and my brothers went to the marketplace in town and stole food, clothes, money, and whatever else we could get away with. We did that almost everyday, but not because we were dumb kids that enjoyed the thrill. Well, not *just* because of that. We did it because our family was piss poor. My mother was sick and my father was an alcoholic who didn't work. So we stole food, clothes and sometimes medicine. One day while out and about doing our rounds, my brother was caught. My older brother. We were doing it for so long, we basically helped them develop their security. And what did I do? Fucking nothing. I was a thief, not a fighter. I couldn't hold my own in a fight. Later that night my brother returned, beat black and blue. He told us what the shopkeep told him, that he'd show no mercy on the next bandit. Some of those guys, let me tell you.. they were not kind on people trying to steal their wares. Anyways, my younger brother went out the next day before I woke up. I never saw him again, and my mom died shorty after too. So I went to the military. I wanted to get stronger, I didn't wanna get beat up like my brother did. But I never did lose my knack for gold, heh. Yeah.." He fell quiet from that point forth, tilting his head down and folding his hands anxiously, not even reacting to the drink the bartender just set down in front of him.
"Im sorry." said Alexia. "I also lost my mother. I grew up just south-east of here, in the desert. Many mages lived in the city, my father one of them. He was very proud of his pyromancy and awaited eagerly for me to develop my powers. My mother never liked to talk about that, and now I know why. My father, or who I thought was my father, killed my mother after finding out I had ice powers. Turns out he wasn't my father after all, and my mother had an affair with a frost mage. I loved my mother. In rage, I summoned pillars of ice from the ground and impaled him with a hundred icicles. I was found guilty of murder and had to flee. Im travelling north in hopes of finding my real father. I can never return home after what had happened." A frozen tear slid down her cheek and shattered as it hit the ground.
The entire front bar fell silent, and everyone looked depressed. Everyone but Sai, who always looked as docile as he does presently.
"Good news, I got us all individual rooms!" Said Rowan, throwing Leo a key that bounced off his sad head.
"..Nice catch. Whats wrong, where did the good mood go, guys? Aren't you excited for some fresh, white linen after we've been sleeping on the ground for the past week?"
"Sit down Rowan, tell us about your past." Said Leo as he bend down to grab the key off the ground.
"My past? Like, my childhood?"
"Sure."
"Alright. Well, I grew up west of here in Locket. Fairly big village with-"
"Locket? Ain't that under King Hearthwell's rule?"
Alexia elbowed Leo in the side. "Don't interupt his story."
"Sorry. Continue."
"..It is, yeah. The king is very generous. Anyways, fairly big village, lots of land for crops and livestock. I went to school in 'Wenham's school for educations and swordmanship' where-"
"Oh, you could afford an education?"
Alexia elbowed Leo again, this time with more force. "Shut it, I'm sure he'll get to the tragic part in time."
"Right. Sorry."
"..So in school I learned all kinds of things, reading, mathematics, sword fighting, but I was only really good as sword fighting. My family sent me to that school specifically because of a tradition we had: At age 16, the boy has to leave the village for at least 4 years and may only return after slaying his assigned target. I trained with my mentor almost everyday, he was like family to me. And on my 16th birthday, my parents and my mentor watched me leave the village, prepared and ready. They are very proud of me. I had actually just written them this letter and-"
"THAT WAS IT?!" Shouted Leo, who had been building up rage from the moment he heard that Rowan was able to attend school.
"Did you at least have a brother or sister that died?!"
"I- No, I am an only child."
"Its strange that he suffered no trauma but come on Leo, It's not so bad!" Alexia tried calming him down.
"How's a boy supposed to prepare for the world if he doesn't experience such things from a young age?! How is he supposed know who is about to stab him in the back if he has never been betrayed!? How will this weakling survive with just a sword but not the capacity to bear the death of his loved ones should that ever hap-" Leo stops talking as the tip of a sword pokes at his neck.
"You talk too much. Take care of your own problems before you come at me trying to solve mine."
"GENTLEMEN!" Everyone turned to the barkeep who was standing behind the bar with crossed arms and an angry look on his face, ready to kick the whole group out. Rowan sheathed his sword and Leo calmed down as well. They all sat in silence for a while, everyone contemplating just walking out and abandoning the party.
Alexia was the first to break the ice. "So, Rowan.. you have to slay some target huh? Are you a contract killer or something?"
"Oh, no, but it is customary for a boy leaving my village to defeat one truly evil being before returning as part of the maturing process. My target is the nameless, an evil monk who invades adventurer groups under a false name and slaughters them during dusk after their first week together has transpired. He is said to use cursed speech, but I haven't the idea of how I would be able to find or identify him."
"..."
"..."
"..."
"What?" | James : Your planet got destroyed and then your birth parents sent you to earth and then some countryside couple found and adopted you and then your adoptive father died helping others . That inspired to you to become a hero !
Blue Noir : Nope !
James : No dead parents killed by a robber?
Blue Noir : No . My parents lived a happy life and died of old age .
James : Dead uncle ?
Blue Noir : Not at all ! See that guy over there drinking tea ? He is my uncle .
James : Bad guys attacked your village , killed every one including your family . So you became a revengeful hero !
Blue Noir : Lol ! No ! My village is perfectly fine! Last year we won the model village award .
James : Someone killed your wife or girlfriend then ?
Blue Noir : What ? NO! I have been always single!
James : Let me guess! You or your friend got bullied , so you decided to stand against bullies.
Blue Noir : Never ! In school everyone looked after each other .
James : I can't believe! Not even a slightest tragedy!
Blue Noir : Nothing .
James : So you are telling me that one day you just decided to become a hero without any inspiration?
Blue Noir : Well I got some inspirations . A lot actually. My mentor taught me to be kind , caring ,helpful and understanding. He taught me that even if doesn’t benefit you or harm you , you can always help others in need . Infact he told me to write to him when I would complete helping 100 beings in need of help. | |
[WP] You are a hero, but you have no tragic backstory. Nobody believes you when you say that your village is fine and that your mentor is eagerly awaiting your first letter home. | It was a very interesting adventure for Medeo. The half-orc was entertained by the party thinking he was a woman only for them to be shocked to realize he was simply a very feminine-looking man. The rogue even got more jaws dropping when he revealed he was, in fact, half-tabaxi as well. What had seemed to be a simple rogue sipping some wine eloquently in a relatively high-class tavern had turned out to be an interesting man filled with surprises, giving him the title Medeo the Intriguing.
One dark night, when he was recently recovering from a nasty encounter with quite a few mimics, the other half-orc, a barbarian with mixed orc and elf blood in her veins, called him over to the campfire. Medeo made his way and gently sat by her. Months of expecting and beginning of motherhood had softened and slowed her, so she sat by the fire while her husband, a dragonborn, hunted with the group. She had become a motherly figure as of late.
"Medeo, we each have mixed blood... would you care to tell me your origins?" He shook his head. "You first, please." She nodded. "I was born of rape like other half-orcs...an elven citadel was raided and sacked by orcs...my mother always laughed as she told the story of how she knocked a young elf lad down and held him there as she raped him before slitting his throat. She had me trained as a warrior in the halls of Khrush'galm-" He raised an eyebrow. "Khrush'galm? Really?" She caught her mistake. "Not Khrush'galm. Grish'ak-kholm. I was trained there day in and day out before marauders ransacked it. I saw my mother castrated and crucified on the walls...I ran away from Grish'ak-kholm, scared and shaking, until I was found by elves who raised me into who I am today...I hope my child does not experience the same tragedy as I did when they are born..."
He nodded. "I see. May I share my origins?" She nodded. He began. "My mother grew up as one of the matriarchs of Khrush'galm. She was a fighter, and that was respected in the Stronghold of Women. She didn't need a man for her to extend her bloodline either way, yet...she was bested by one, a tabaxi. He caught her eye, she caught his, and..." She leaned in as much as she could, intrigued. "What happened next, Medeo?" He continued. "They dated, he proposed after a few years, and they got married in Althenor." Her eyebrows raised. "Althenor? A human city?" He nodded. "Yes. They felt it was appropriate. Of course, afterwards, my mother ended up having me, and many moons later I was a brother." She was listening now. "I see. Did your village suffer a tragedy?" He shook his head. "No, my village is fine, even with my slight mishap..." She smiled a bit. "Oh? What happened?" "I managed to date and marry a succubus without having the relationship go awry..." She was laughing a bit. He continued. "Yep. She's alive and well. I send letters to her occasionally, even sending some to my son's as well."
Her eyes widened. "You're a father?" He nodded. "Yes...I took this quest to protect my family and wife." She looked at him, smiling warmly as she set a hand on his shoulder. "You're a good man, Medeo, and a good father as well. Never change, lad." | James : Your planet got destroyed and then your birth parents sent you to earth and then some countryside couple found and adopted you and then your adoptive father died helping others . That inspired to you to become a hero !
Blue Noir : Nope !
James : No dead parents killed by a robber?
Blue Noir : No . My parents lived a happy life and died of old age .
James : Dead uncle ?
Blue Noir : Not at all ! See that guy over there drinking tea ? He is my uncle .
James : Bad guys attacked your village , killed every one including your family . So you became a revengeful hero !
Blue Noir : Lol ! No ! My village is perfectly fine! Last year we won the model village award .
James : Someone killed your wife or girlfriend then ?
Blue Noir : What ? NO! I have been always single!
James : Let me guess! You or your friend got bullied , so you decided to stand against bullies.
Blue Noir : Never ! In school everyone looked after each other .
James : I can't believe! Not even a slightest tragedy!
Blue Noir : Nothing .
James : So you are telling me that one day you just decided to become a hero without any inspiration?
Blue Noir : Well I got some inspirations . A lot actually. My mentor taught me to be kind , caring ,helpful and understanding. He taught me that even if doesn’t benefit you or harm you , you can always help others in need . Infact he told me to write to him when I would complete helping 100 beings in need of help. | |
[WP] You are a hero, but you have no tragic backstory. Nobody believes you when you say that your village is fine and that your mentor is eagerly awaiting your first letter home. | “What do you mean you don’t know why?”
Chlorin sat on a bleached birch log, a fire beside him as it crackled in response to his Ether seeping into the flame, Perception making his eyes glow a daisy yellow. He stared forward at his companion Wendell, who lay down in his sleeping bag looking up at the stars.
“Don’t know why I decided to come on this quest?” Wendell asked, still absentminded and not focused on the conversation.
“Well, from what I’m hearing, you got no stake in this”, Chlorin responded, pulling his hand away from the now uproarious heat and placing it in his linen pocket, daisy irises becoming dark green. “You have your parents back home, with a mentor who clearly wishes you back for training. Why would you leave that?”
Wendell sat up and stared into the fire, sensing Chlorin’s Ether within the blaze jump and sway as it turned into energetic Ignis. “Why did you leave your home?”, he questioned, now looking toward Chlorin with intrigue.
Chlorin scoffed before growing quiet. “I have no home to go back to; No mother or father to return and give help to. By Mond, I can’t half remember what happened to them”, he uncomfortably stated, “so leaving something behind wasn’t exactly in my ability”.
Wendell nodded, his eyes now knotted in thought. “You came on this quest because you had no weight to hold you down”, Wendell concluded, his eyes back to a relaxed gaze.
Chlorin turned away, hiding his face from the orange glow of the fire and Wendell. “That’s exactly why I’m so confused”, he muttered as his hand lowered back down toward the fire, once again letting Ether seep into the base of the fire.
“Confused on what, why I am here?”, Wendell assumed as he let his older companion stoke the flame, once again studying the Ignis energy as it rose.
“Of course I’m confused on why you’re here”, Chlorin spat, “you have no reason to”. Ether now soaked his fingers, flames now hungering for the ethereal fuel. “No one to fight for, no object to search for, not even someone to avenge. Everyone you care about is home, safe and sound, so why pack up and go somewhere else?”.
“Does there have to be a reason?”, Wendell asked as he continued to stare toward his companion with seeming naiveté.
Chlorin pulled his hand away from the fire, shaking the thick gas of Ether off it. “There does have to be a reason, what else could you motivate you to go on a quest like this?”, Chlorin remarked coldly, agitated from Wendell’s lack of a personal purpose.
Wendell tilted his head, eyes now back toward the stars. “Hmm… do you know that feeling in your chest that you get sometimes?”
Chlorin froze for a slight second. “When you’re sick or something?”
Wendell smirked slightly before continuing. “No, when you help someone. It’s not a grand reason, but it’s a reason to me I guess. When you have that feeling, it feels nice. All warm like Renfa-flame. That’s why I’m here, because why not? Why not help?”
Chlorin stared forward, awed at his words. He had never known someone like that. “I guess that’s a good reason”, he finally replied, a grin growing on his face.
Wendell smiled sheepishly. Noticing the dwindling fire, he lets his own hand seep Ether into the fire, Perception turning his eyes from brown to a color that of redwood. “I guess it is”. | James : Your planet got destroyed and then your birth parents sent you to earth and then some countryside couple found and adopted you and then your adoptive father died helping others . That inspired to you to become a hero !
Blue Noir : Nope !
James : No dead parents killed by a robber?
Blue Noir : No . My parents lived a happy life and died of old age .
James : Dead uncle ?
Blue Noir : Not at all ! See that guy over there drinking tea ? He is my uncle .
James : Bad guys attacked your village , killed every one including your family . So you became a revengeful hero !
Blue Noir : Lol ! No ! My village is perfectly fine! Last year we won the model village award .
James : Someone killed your wife or girlfriend then ?
Blue Noir : What ? NO! I have been always single!
James : Let me guess! You or your friend got bullied , so you decided to stand against bullies.
Blue Noir : Never ! In school everyone looked after each other .
James : I can't believe! Not even a slightest tragedy!
Blue Noir : Nothing .
James : So you are telling me that one day you just decided to become a hero without any inspiration?
Blue Noir : Well I got some inspirations . A lot actually. My mentor taught me to be kind , caring ,helpful and understanding. He taught me that even if doesn’t benefit you or harm you , you can always help others in need . Infact he told me to write to him when I would complete helping 100 beings in need of help. | |
[WP] Its the zombie apocalypse, but you are bitten on the first day. You find a liquor store to drink until you die. Only you don't die you wake up still drunk but alive. As you sober up you feel your self turning. So you drink and feel better. Now you know as long as your drunk you wont turn. | Zombies! Who would have thought it’d be zombies who get humanity in the end? I can’t believe it myself, and I was bitten by one five days ago!
So why haven’t I become a zombie just like everyone else I saw bit? Good question! The straight answer is that I don’t really know. The weird and strange answer is that I think it has something to do with me getting drunk right after I was bitten.
I mean, this isn’t some strange experiment I ran on myself. I didn’t look out the window, see zombies running around munching on people, and decide that I should see if I can stave off zombism (or whatever you want to call it) by raising my blood alcohol levels. What’s really ironic is I had a major substance abuse problem when I was younger and on my road to recovery, I cleaned up and became a teetotaller many years ago. And now, as I am about to complete 70 years of my life, the only thing that seems to be ensuring my continued survival is to stay drunk all the time.
How can I be so sure of this? I’m not a doctor or a scientist by profession. Nor do I have an overly clinical understanding of the human body or the diseases that may inflict it. Although in the world as it was just before this latest calamity, everyone had become a semi-expert in communicable diseases and had a rudimentary epidemiology. No. In the world that was, I was born to dirt poor refugees, in a poor country that was possibly considered even less than “Third World” at the time. I grew up in Hong Kong in the 1950s and ‘60s, and received my education in the form of training for martial arts, acrobatics, and drama, from a very young age. I had the good fortune to meet the right people and do the right things at the right time, which led me to eventually becoming one of the biggest movie stars in my country and, in due time, in the world. I worked hard at everything I attempted to do, and became famous, successful, and wealthy beyond the imagination of most people, including myself. At the same time, I was still just a man and made mistakes, just like everyone else, learning anew every day how to live a good life. I travelled the world and did things and performed feats I thought that no one had ever done before. Eventually, depending on the moment, I celebrated and regretted my life, just like everyone else.
And now, here I am, feeling the beginnings of the unique creeping, crawling, painful numbness in my fingertips and toes, that seems to signal the onset of my zombie disease. Must be the alcohol wearing off. Time for another couple (or three or four) of shots of tequila.
There is an upside to this drunken zombie state though, despite all the obvious disadvantages. While I turned 70 just a few months ago, I feel as limber and fit as when I was 20! I definitely have more energy than I had even at that young age. My strength also seems to have increased much more than I have ever possessed. Perhaps, my alcohol saturated blood keeps the zombie disease from converting me into a mindless eating animal like everyone else I see in this city, while still allowing me to reap the dubious benefits of enhanced energy, strength and agility that these beings display.
Many years ago, I made a series of movies about a martial arts style in which one had to be drunk to fight and defeat one’s opponents. I think I still remember the moves. I also think that whatever divinity that watches over us has allowed me to discover this effect and develop these new abilities for a purpose. I have lived a long and beautiful life the likes of which most people cannot even imagine in their wildest dreams. I have lived, loved, rejoiced, sang, danced, spent, grown, and understood life on a level that few get a chance to do. You may have known of me as Jackie Chan, martial artist, actor, filmmaker, action choreographer, singer, stunt director, stunt performer, superstar, or even politician. I think it is time for me to drop all those now, and take on a new role. I am now Jackie Chan, Master of Drunken Boxing, Zombie Hunter. | I know if I told you how this worked you wouldn't believe me! You were always so much smarter and more practical than me. But its ok, because I know this works and have faith it will work for you as well. So I left you this note and I hope you can read it in a little bit. That's why you'll find yourself locked in this dark room, and god, Sarah, was it hard to find a place like this untouched, but not as hard as it was to find you among that awful and moaning throng. I'd recognize that cheap pink windbreaker anywhere because our last night together is emblazoned on my brain, even now at what must be the end of the world. I don't know, some days I think this is hell or judgment day and this is it for us. But somehow I did find you by god's grace, so maybe things are changing, maybe this will all go away and we'll be able to love another again and things will fix themselves and we'll be able to live like in the before times. Maybe my prayers are finally being answered and things are finally are getting better. I found you! So that must mean something! Its a sign I swear! God is finally listening!
\*middle paragraph unintelligible as its covered in blood and dirt\*
Anyway, there's so much more I could say but it can wait for later because its getting dark out and I've used enough precious ink already. I just hope this really works, even in your condition. Maybe you will get thirsty and drink this stuff because I can't force you to do it. I dreamt so many times that you do. God, I hope so. I love you so much Sarah! I love you so much and miss you! I will be waiting for however long it takes. I will check on your every day to see if you are better. Please get better soon my love. We're going to do this, we're going to pull through, I just know it! I love you so much!
\*UN Peacekeeper log: Note found on April 17, 2037 in a locked bar cellar, next to an infected woman's remains. A second note, a suicide letter, was taken by our unit chaplain and discreetly set aside for morale-affecting reasons. Only this note will go into the public record of the COVID-32 pandemic. May these souls finally find peace. - Captain Aanuoluwapo Abdullahi, Chief of Unit, UN Mission #RPP-2036\* | |
[WP] Its the zombie apocalypse, but you are bitten on the first day. You find a liquor store to drink until you die. Only you don't die you wake up still drunk but alive. As you sober up you feel your self turning. So you drink and feel better. Now you know as long as your drunk you wont turn. | "Hi, I'm Carl, I'm an alcoholic," Carl said to the circle of chairs. "And I'm bitten."
"Hi, Carl," the circle replied.
Carl smiled weakly. "It's been six hours since my last drink. I--I've been having a real rough one, today."
Carl’s hands trembled as he shared about his day with the strangers sitting in the cozy little church basement. How he argued with his wife over the *technicalities* of their insurance policy. How he didn't talk to anyone at the office the entire day after that. How he wondered if he’ll live long enough to see his girls graduate college. He cried after his three minutes were up. The circle clapped politely. It didn't help. He was dying one day at a time.
After the meeting, people milled around a table topped with donut boxes and a big coffee dispenser. Carl pulled a knob and filled his styrofoam cup. He reached into his messenger bag for his flask, held his hand there for a second, then pulled it back empty. At that moment, his sponsor stepped up beside him.
"What if I stop drinking," Carl said, staring down into his cup of Folgers. A tired face stared up back at him. "What if I just stopped?"
"You serious?" Katherine shook powdered creamer into her coffee. "You dodge my calls for two weeks. Now you're talking turning? Let's take a walk."
“I’m a little tired.”
“Yup.” She turned and marched for the door as if not hearing him. “Nothing like a bit of fresh air.”
They left the church basement into the salmon gray light of early evening. Joggers ran, dogs sniffed at trees, CDC vans patroled. Carl tried to focus on the rhythm of dead leaves crunching under their feet as they walked around the block.
"Mia can't take much more of this," Carl said. "Her father was an alcoholic, and you know…”
"No, I get it," Katherine said, lighting a cigarette. "Can't be easy for her."
Carl gestured to cross the street to avoid the rowdy line waiting for entry to The Slaughtered Lamb. People milled about outside with red solo cups. A chalkboard read, *STAY ALIVE! WELL SHOTS 10 for $10 ALL DAY & ALL NIGHT.*
Carl sighed. "She and her dad don't talk. And when I drink, I don't talk. The fights are getting worse. I—I was ten years sober, Kat. Ten years clean and sober and then I get bit. I never wanted Mia or the kids to *ever* see me like this. And now it’s only way I can be with them. How is that fair?”
Katherine walked on, smoking her Marlboro light. Sometimes she didn't say anything for a long while. It didn't bother Carl. He knew she was listening.
"It's not," she said, finally. "Just like having parents that are alcoholics. Just like getting hit by a mac truck while crossing the street. Just like getting bit by a zombo while putting out the trash.”
Carl instinctively rubbed his bicep where the zombie had bitten him the night it jumped out from behind a blue recycling bin. He’d cried as Mia poured a bottle of cooking sherry down his throat to keep him from turning.
"It ain't fair. It just ain't."
"You're not helping." Carl laughed.
"Oh, I thought I was just listening," Katherine said. "Was I supposed to know exactly the right thing to say here? That’d be a first.”
"Yeah, yeah,” he said, then, after a block of silence, “I’ve got a life insurance policy, you know. Enough to take care of Mia and the kids through college—for the both of them. Only pays if I…you know.”
“Uh-huh.”
Katherine ashed her cigarette against the bottom of her Doc Martins and flicked it into a garbage can. She opened her pack, stared for a moment, and decided against another one.
"Well," she said. "The way I see it--you've got a choice. You've always had a choice. Live or die. Drink or don't drink. You get to pick. Isn’t that beautiful?”
“Can a turd be beautiful?”
“If you pick the right one, sure.” She let out a throaty laugh. “You’re an adult. Make your choices. Stand by them. Just—make sure whatever you do comes from love, not fear. That way, you won't have any regrets. And if you do decide to go sober, I'll be more than happy to put your ass down once you start groaning for brains."
"Katherine, Jesus!"
"You don't think I would?"
Carl punched her shoulder lightly. "No, I know you would."
As they walked up to St. Jude's once more, she pulled a plastic nip of Fireball from her denim jacket and downed it in one go. "BAH! Son of a bitch. I hate this stuff." She wiped her mouth with her sleeve then just stood there and watched.
Carl reached into his canvas messenger bag and pulled a silver flask. He stared at it, catching the last of the evening sun off its polished surface. Thinking of Mia and the girls, he took a swig of the warm Chivas and let it burn down his chest for a few heartbeats. "One day at a time." | I know if I told you how this worked you wouldn't believe me! You were always so much smarter and more practical than me. But its ok, because I know this works and have faith it will work for you as well. So I left you this note and I hope you can read it in a little bit. That's why you'll find yourself locked in this dark room, and god, Sarah, was it hard to find a place like this untouched, but not as hard as it was to find you among that awful and moaning throng. I'd recognize that cheap pink windbreaker anywhere because our last night together is emblazoned on my brain, even now at what must be the end of the world. I don't know, some days I think this is hell or judgment day and this is it for us. But somehow I did find you by god's grace, so maybe things are changing, maybe this will all go away and we'll be able to love another again and things will fix themselves and we'll be able to live like in the before times. Maybe my prayers are finally being answered and things are finally are getting better. I found you! So that must mean something! Its a sign I swear! God is finally listening!
\*middle paragraph unintelligible as its covered in blood and dirt\*
Anyway, there's so much more I could say but it can wait for later because its getting dark out and I've used enough precious ink already. I just hope this really works, even in your condition. Maybe you will get thirsty and drink this stuff because I can't force you to do it. I dreamt so many times that you do. God, I hope so. I love you so much Sarah! I love you so much and miss you! I will be waiting for however long it takes. I will check on your every day to see if you are better. Please get better soon my love. We're going to do this, we're going to pull through, I just know it! I love you so much!
\*UN Peacekeeper log: Note found on April 17, 2037 in a locked bar cellar, next to an infected woman's remains. A second note, a suicide letter, was taken by our unit chaplain and discreetly set aside for morale-affecting reasons. Only this note will go into the public record of the COVID-32 pandemic. May these souls finally find peace. - Captain Aanuoluwapo Abdullahi, Chief of Unit, UN Mission #RPP-2036\* | |
[WP] Its the zombie apocalypse, but you are bitten on the first day. You find a liquor store to drink until you die. Only you don't die you wake up still drunk but alive. As you sober up you feel your self turning. So you drink and feel better. Now you know as long as your drunk you wont turn. | They call her the Drunken Master. They call her a god. When they see her reeling down the path to their village, they prepare the offering: wine, barrels of it. They make it only for her, for she is the only one who can rid them of the Plagued.
She slurs through negotiation, but that’s all right; everyone knows her price. It has been thousands of years and nothing has changed. As she stumbles from the main palisade, parents pull their children to balconies. Look, they say. Watch.
The Drunken Master stumbles into the horde of Plagued that has accumulated outside of your village’s most exterior fence, so thick that no forage or hunting or farming is possible any longer beyond that limit. The Plagued, rotting and moaning, some still recognizable as onetime family and friends, have nearly knocked the wooden barrier down with their unremitting zeal to enter and destroy your home. But when she arrives, they turn to her. They lock on her. She goes to work.
The children gasp as Plagued teeth tear into her. She shakes them off like flies and crushes skull after skull with the ancient weapon Aluminum Bat, an artifact from Before. An hour ago, the Plagued seemed undefeatable. Now there are none left standing.
She falls down a couple times on her way back through the fences, but still manages to fill her cart with your barrels of wine. The children watch in awe as she guzzles two tankards in seconds. “Someday,” she slurs, “Ah’m gonna be out o’tolerance…or liver cells. Then I guess you folks gonna hafta get a new barfly. Ah-dee-ohss.”
She pulls her cart away, into the forest surrounding your village where no one dares set foot. You return to your fields, crops trampled by the Plagued but soon to recover. It is an old pattern, as old as the Drunken Master. Most especially do you tend the grape arbors and their sacred fruit. For a living being turned Plagued may endure forever and protect those untouched by their curse…but only until their cup runs dry. | I know if I told you how this worked you wouldn't believe me! You were always so much smarter and more practical than me. But its ok, because I know this works and have faith it will work for you as well. So I left you this note and I hope you can read it in a little bit. That's why you'll find yourself locked in this dark room, and god, Sarah, was it hard to find a place like this untouched, but not as hard as it was to find you among that awful and moaning throng. I'd recognize that cheap pink windbreaker anywhere because our last night together is emblazoned on my brain, even now at what must be the end of the world. I don't know, some days I think this is hell or judgment day and this is it for us. But somehow I did find you by god's grace, so maybe things are changing, maybe this will all go away and we'll be able to love another again and things will fix themselves and we'll be able to live like in the before times. Maybe my prayers are finally being answered and things are finally are getting better. I found you! So that must mean something! Its a sign I swear! God is finally listening!
\*middle paragraph unintelligible as its covered in blood and dirt\*
Anyway, there's so much more I could say but it can wait for later because its getting dark out and I've used enough precious ink already. I just hope this really works, even in your condition. Maybe you will get thirsty and drink this stuff because I can't force you to do it. I dreamt so many times that you do. God, I hope so. I love you so much Sarah! I love you so much and miss you! I will be waiting for however long it takes. I will check on your every day to see if you are better. Please get better soon my love. We're going to do this, we're going to pull through, I just know it! I love you so much!
\*UN Peacekeeper log: Note found on April 17, 2037 in a locked bar cellar, next to an infected woman's remains. A second note, a suicide letter, was taken by our unit chaplain and discreetly set aside for morale-affecting reasons. Only this note will go into the public record of the COVID-32 pandemic. May these souls finally find peace. - Captain Aanuoluwapo Abdullahi, Chief of Unit, UN Mission #RPP-2036\* | |
[WP] Its the zombie apocalypse, but you are bitten on the first day. You find a liquor store to drink until you die. Only you don't die you wake up still drunk but alive. As you sober up you feel your self turning. So you drink and feel better. Now you know as long as your drunk you wont turn. | Dear Cassandra
I know you won't ever see this, but hopefully another survivor will. You're going to have a lot of questions, like, why is this store so clean and orderly? What's all this weird alcohol? And why is a zombie chained to the side of a fridge?
The first question, I did it. It was the only thing I *could* do. Sweeping the floors, wiping the windows, and especially dusting, were the things that kept me sane in my drunken haze. It kept the demons at bay and the zombies stench away. I hate zombies. They're not very good company and smell *horrible*. My nose might've fallen off a month ago, but even I have standards in smell.
The second question, the alcohol, I believe is the cure for zombification. I was nearly mauled to death by a horde, but dragged myself here in time to have a bottle of whiskey to ease the pain. It worked too well, and to my amazement, I awoke from my slumber the following morning. The pains eased back like a snake's venom and I had to drink more whiskey. Life became an infinitely losing game from then. I hurt, I drank, and I cleaned till I fell asleep from exhaustion. Like I said earlier, the zombies aren't good company, and I noticed something about my body. The zombification hadn't ceased, it just slowed down. My skin fell away in patches, my nose came off like play-doh, and my eye popped out my skull this morning. There was no chance I could go back with people again.
The final question, that zombie is me. I've chained myself to this fridge and I'm writing this with a pen while pressing the paper against the wall. The alcohol should be neatly placed in their shelving, and I hope my bad company doesn't sour your visit. Zombies might smell bad and want to gnaw your face, but even they have their limits. Which is why I've left a \*present\* under the cash register. A fully-loaded shotgun. It was too painful of an idea for me to do it, but I'm sure it'll be fun target practice for you, reader.
Happy Hunting!
Tod | I know if I told you how this worked you wouldn't believe me! You were always so much smarter and more practical than me. But its ok, because I know this works and have faith it will work for you as well. So I left you this note and I hope you can read it in a little bit. That's why you'll find yourself locked in this dark room, and god, Sarah, was it hard to find a place like this untouched, but not as hard as it was to find you among that awful and moaning throng. I'd recognize that cheap pink windbreaker anywhere because our last night together is emblazoned on my brain, even now at what must be the end of the world. I don't know, some days I think this is hell or judgment day and this is it for us. But somehow I did find you by god's grace, so maybe things are changing, maybe this will all go away and we'll be able to love another again and things will fix themselves and we'll be able to live like in the before times. Maybe my prayers are finally being answered and things are finally are getting better. I found you! So that must mean something! Its a sign I swear! God is finally listening!
\*middle paragraph unintelligible as its covered in blood and dirt\*
Anyway, there's so much more I could say but it can wait for later because its getting dark out and I've used enough precious ink already. I just hope this really works, even in your condition. Maybe you will get thirsty and drink this stuff because I can't force you to do it. I dreamt so many times that you do. God, I hope so. I love you so much Sarah! I love you so much and miss you! I will be waiting for however long it takes. I will check on your every day to see if you are better. Please get better soon my love. We're going to do this, we're going to pull through, I just know it! I love you so much!
\*UN Peacekeeper log: Note found on April 17, 2037 in a locked bar cellar, next to an infected woman's remains. A second note, a suicide letter, was taken by our unit chaplain and discreetly set aside for morale-affecting reasons. Only this note will go into the public record of the COVID-32 pandemic. May these souls finally find peace. - Captain Aanuoluwapo Abdullahi, Chief of Unit, UN Mission #RPP-2036\* | |
[WP] Its the zombie apocalypse, but you are bitten on the first day. You find a liquor store to drink until you die. Only you don't die you wake up still drunk but alive. As you sober up you feel your self turning. So you drink and feel better. Now you know as long as your drunk you wont turn. | "Hi, I'm Carl, I'm an alcoholic," Carl said to the circle of chairs. "And I'm bitten."
"Hi, Carl," the circle replied.
Carl smiled weakly. "It's been six hours since my last drink. I--I've been having a real rough one, today."
Carl’s hands trembled as he shared about his day with the strangers sitting in the cozy little church basement. How he argued with his wife over the *technicalities* of their insurance policy. How he didn't talk to anyone at the office the entire day after that. How he wondered if he’ll live long enough to see his girls graduate college. He cried after his three minutes were up. The circle clapped politely. It didn't help. He was dying one day at a time.
After the meeting, people milled around a table topped with donut boxes and a big coffee dispenser. Carl pulled a knob and filled his styrofoam cup. He reached into his messenger bag for his flask, held his hand there for a second, then pulled it back empty. At that moment, his sponsor stepped up beside him.
"What if I stop drinking," Carl said, staring down into his cup of Folgers. A tired face stared up back at him. "What if I just stopped?"
"You serious?" Katherine shook powdered creamer into her coffee. "You dodge my calls for two weeks. Now you're talking turning? Let's take a walk."
“I’m a little tired.”
“Yup.” She turned and marched for the door as if not hearing him. “Nothing like a bit of fresh air.”
They left the church basement into the salmon gray light of early evening. Joggers ran, dogs sniffed at trees, CDC vans patroled. Carl tried to focus on the rhythm of dead leaves crunching under their feet as they walked around the block.
"Mia can't take much more of this," Carl said. "Her father was an alcoholic, and you know…”
"No, I get it," Katherine said, lighting a cigarette. "Can't be easy for her."
Carl gestured to cross the street to avoid the rowdy line waiting for entry to The Slaughtered Lamb. People milled about outside with red solo cups. A chalkboard read, *STAY ALIVE! WELL SHOTS 10 for $10 ALL DAY & ALL NIGHT.*
Carl sighed. "She and her dad don't talk. And when I drink, I don't talk. The fights are getting worse. I—I was ten years sober, Kat. Ten years clean and sober and then I get bit. I never wanted Mia or the kids to *ever* see me like this. And now it’s only way I can be with them. How is that fair?”
Katherine walked on, smoking her Marlboro light. Sometimes she didn't say anything for a long while. It didn't bother Carl. He knew she was listening.
"It's not," she said, finally. "Just like having parents that are alcoholics. Just like getting hit by a mac truck while crossing the street. Just like getting bit by a zombo while putting out the trash.”
Carl instinctively rubbed his bicep where the zombie had bitten him the night it jumped out from behind a blue recycling bin. He’d cried as Mia poured a bottle of cooking sherry down his throat to keep him from turning.
"It ain't fair. It just ain't."
"You're not helping." Carl laughed.
"Oh, I thought I was just listening," Katherine said. "Was I supposed to know exactly the right thing to say here? That’d be a first.”
"Yeah, yeah,” he said, then, after a block of silence, “I’ve got a life insurance policy, you know. Enough to take care of Mia and the kids through college—for the both of them. Only pays if I…you know.”
“Uh-huh.”
Katherine ashed her cigarette against the bottom of her Doc Martins and flicked it into a garbage can. She opened her pack, stared for a moment, and decided against another one.
"Well," she said. "The way I see it--you've got a choice. You've always had a choice. Live or die. Drink or don't drink. You get to pick. Isn’t that beautiful?”
“Can a turd be beautiful?”
“If you pick the right one, sure.” She let out a throaty laugh. “You’re an adult. Make your choices. Stand by them. Just—make sure whatever you do comes from love, not fear. That way, you won't have any regrets. And if you do decide to go sober, I'll be more than happy to put your ass down once you start groaning for brains."
"Katherine, Jesus!"
"You don't think I would?"
Carl punched her shoulder lightly. "No, I know you would."
As they walked up to St. Jude's once more, she pulled a plastic nip of Fireball from her denim jacket and downed it in one go. "BAH! Son of a bitch. I hate this stuff." She wiped her mouth with her sleeve then just stood there and watched.
Carl reached into his canvas messenger bag and pulled a silver flask. He stared at it, catching the last of the evening sun off its polished surface. Thinking of Mia and the girls, he took a swig of the warm Chivas and let it burn down his chest for a few heartbeats. "One day at a time." | Zombies! Who would have thought it’d be zombies who get humanity in the end? I can’t believe it myself, and I was bitten by one five days ago!
So why haven’t I become a zombie just like everyone else I saw bit? Good question! The straight answer is that I don’t really know. The weird and strange answer is that I think it has something to do with me getting drunk right after I was bitten.
I mean, this isn’t some strange experiment I ran on myself. I didn’t look out the window, see zombies running around munching on people, and decide that I should see if I can stave off zombism (or whatever you want to call it) by raising my blood alcohol levels. What’s really ironic is I had a major substance abuse problem when I was younger and on my road to recovery, I cleaned up and became a teetotaller many years ago. And now, as I am about to complete 70 years of my life, the only thing that seems to be ensuring my continued survival is to stay drunk all the time.
How can I be so sure of this? I’m not a doctor or a scientist by profession. Nor do I have an overly clinical understanding of the human body or the diseases that may inflict it. Although in the world as it was just before this latest calamity, everyone had become a semi-expert in communicable diseases and had a rudimentary epidemiology. No. In the world that was, I was born to dirt poor refugees, in a poor country that was possibly considered even less than “Third World” at the time. I grew up in Hong Kong in the 1950s and ‘60s, and received my education in the form of training for martial arts, acrobatics, and drama, from a very young age. I had the good fortune to meet the right people and do the right things at the right time, which led me to eventually becoming one of the biggest movie stars in my country and, in due time, in the world. I worked hard at everything I attempted to do, and became famous, successful, and wealthy beyond the imagination of most people, including myself. At the same time, I was still just a man and made mistakes, just like everyone else, learning anew every day how to live a good life. I travelled the world and did things and performed feats I thought that no one had ever done before. Eventually, depending on the moment, I celebrated and regretted my life, just like everyone else.
And now, here I am, feeling the beginnings of the unique creeping, crawling, painful numbness in my fingertips and toes, that seems to signal the onset of my zombie disease. Must be the alcohol wearing off. Time for another couple (or three or four) of shots of tequila.
There is an upside to this drunken zombie state though, despite all the obvious disadvantages. While I turned 70 just a few months ago, I feel as limber and fit as when I was 20! I definitely have more energy than I had even at that young age. My strength also seems to have increased much more than I have ever possessed. Perhaps, my alcohol saturated blood keeps the zombie disease from converting me into a mindless eating animal like everyone else I see in this city, while still allowing me to reap the dubious benefits of enhanced energy, strength and agility that these beings display.
Many years ago, I made a series of movies about a martial arts style in which one had to be drunk to fight and defeat one’s opponents. I think I still remember the moves. I also think that whatever divinity that watches over us has allowed me to discover this effect and develop these new abilities for a purpose. I have lived a long and beautiful life the likes of which most people cannot even imagine in their wildest dreams. I have lived, loved, rejoiced, sang, danced, spent, grown, and understood life on a level that few get a chance to do. You may have known of me as Jackie Chan, martial artist, actor, filmmaker, action choreographer, singer, stunt director, stunt performer, superstar, or even politician. I think it is time for me to drop all those now, and take on a new role. I am now Jackie Chan, Master of Drunken Boxing, Zombie Hunter. | |
[WP] Its the zombie apocalypse, but you are bitten on the first day. You find a liquor store to drink until you die. Only you don't die you wake up still drunk but alive. As you sober up you feel your self turning. So you drink and feel better. Now you know as long as your drunk you wont turn. | Dear Cassandra
I know you won't ever see this, but hopefully another survivor will. You're going to have a lot of questions, like, why is this store so clean and orderly? What's all this weird alcohol? And why is a zombie chained to the side of a fridge?
The first question, I did it. It was the only thing I *could* do. Sweeping the floors, wiping the windows, and especially dusting, were the things that kept me sane in my drunken haze. It kept the demons at bay and the zombies stench away. I hate zombies. They're not very good company and smell *horrible*. My nose might've fallen off a month ago, but even I have standards in smell.
The second question, the alcohol, I believe is the cure for zombification. I was nearly mauled to death by a horde, but dragged myself here in time to have a bottle of whiskey to ease the pain. It worked too well, and to my amazement, I awoke from my slumber the following morning. The pains eased back like a snake's venom and I had to drink more whiskey. Life became an infinitely losing game from then. I hurt, I drank, and I cleaned till I fell asleep from exhaustion. Like I said earlier, the zombies aren't good company, and I noticed something about my body. The zombification hadn't ceased, it just slowed down. My skin fell away in patches, my nose came off like play-doh, and my eye popped out my skull this morning. There was no chance I could go back with people again.
The final question, that zombie is me. I've chained myself to this fridge and I'm writing this with a pen while pressing the paper against the wall. The alcohol should be neatly placed in their shelving, and I hope my bad company doesn't sour your visit. Zombies might smell bad and want to gnaw your face, but even they have their limits. Which is why I've left a \*present\* under the cash register. A fully-loaded shotgun. It was too painful of an idea for me to do it, but I'm sure it'll be fun target practice for you, reader.
Happy Hunting!
Tod | \*Camera switches on\*
Well.... I never expected it to end this way. I always imagined that if a zombie apocalypse ever breaks out i would be among the survivors . I would fight them and when the time comes i'll die while makin a sacrifice looking into that girl's eyes as she runs away.....
But fate has some other plans i guess. So here i am on Day 2 with my first ever love bite and that too from a zombie.
\*chuckles\*
Whatever. As far as i know there is no cure to it and by the time you will find this.....
well i will be dead.....
And i know its too late but love you Mum and Dad .....
And you were my life Marla and will be.
\*chuckles once more\*
\*Camera switches off\*
You keep the camera on the cashier counter and proceed to walk around it to grab two bottles of premium. You sit down on the floor, your back against the shelf containing beer bottles. You open the cap and just sip it straight.
'The bitterness doesn't matter anymore . I will die a drunk Zombie' you mumble to yourself as the sweet liquid starts to work. After chugging what felt like a whole bottle in one sip you consciousness starts too fade away, your eyes become heavy.....sleepy....drowsy.
\*BOOM \*
A loud explosion wakes you up.
''What the.....''
You open your eyes and see everything spinning. You get up taking the support of the counter but your hand slips and you fall down. You get up once more. Memories start recollecting.
''Am i a zombie now.... huh...wait..... NO!"
You let out a scream of joy realizing you still have control over yourself. you check for the bite on your forearm. It's still there. After deduction you reach the conclusion.
"So being drunk somehow saved me? What..."
As you start to sober up you start feeling a headache.
"Ah Hangover...." you moan as it starts to hurt more.
Suddenly you feel as if some fore is deteriorating your condition rapidly. It is as if death is pulling towards you. you realize its the virus kicking in. you have to drink.
"Can't get a hangover if i don't stop ...... two birds with one stone "
You stare into the nothingness for a moment which felt like an eternity.
"This should be one heck of a journey"
You smile as you take the bottle and start to open the cap......... | |
[WP] Its the zombie apocalypse, but you are bitten on the first day. You find a liquor store to drink until you die. Only you don't die you wake up still drunk but alive. As you sober up you feel your self turning. So you drink and feel better. Now you know as long as your drunk you wont turn. | If you would have asked me a couple of months ago, before all this, how I felt about being shot at, I would have happily provided you with an answer somewhere along the lines of “fuck that noise.” But today, crouched in checkout lane two, in a dusty store, with a shotgun being fired above my head, I really couldn’t be happier. When you spend as long as I have being, seemingly, utterly alone, with only my thoughts and the rancid remains of my fellow humans, it just hits differently. Hell, I'm smiling.
At first I was sure that I had just got too much sun or had eaten some bad jerky, again. However, at this point in my investigation, I can rest assured that this was not the case. While we wait until they either lose interest in killing me, or run out of ammo, which, if i’m being honest, it seems like the first thing will occur before the second, I should take you back a little. Okay, so, when I was born-- I’m just fucking with you, relax. Let’s start with this morning.
I had slept in a little; I deserved it after cleaning my new house yesterday for five hours straight. It was a mess, what with the previous owner’s, uh, stuff, lying all around. It was a big family, a big job, and a dope ass house, so, to me, it seemed worth it. I grew up in mobile homes and apartments, never knowing how the other side lived. It wasn't long until my curiosity got the better of me. After all, why shouldn't I be comfortable? However I may have slept a little too long. I could feel It creeping in again.
So after I had the place looking the way I wanted, I was hungry, and needed a drink, so off I went to town. I was half drunk, tooling along, throwing shit at other shit, singing my “going to town” song, when this happened: ..“so I put my haaands up, they’re plaaying my-” *An engine rev, accompanied by the sweet sound of squealing tires? But how? Fuck how. Where? East. Bullshit. It can’t be. Go!*
So I went. Breakfast would have to wait. I approached the intersection where I was sure the sounds were coming from, conveniently just a couple of blocks away. Then I beheld that there were indeed the blackest of tire tracks and the unmistakable smell of burning rubber still hanging in the air. I fucking knew it! I knew I couldn’t be alone. I told you, self! I said, “self, there’s no fucking way that you’re gonna be the last asshole left on earth, because that would really be some bullshit”, and I was right! Ha! Then I followed my nose.
The parking lot seemed safe at first glance, hell, normal even, if you tilt your head and squint your eyes a little. Disregard the rotting corpses dotting the lot, amid the shopping carts and wrecked and overturned vehicles, and just look at that storefront. Why, it’s as clean and inviting as it’s ever been, as long as you also disregard the guy who got torn in two laying in front of where the bank of doors used to be. Pull yourself together, sir, this is a family market.
So there I was, lying in the grass at the crest of a hill overlooking the front of a Target, peering through a set of binoculars, determining my best course of action. I was invigorated. I had a purpose again, and my pulse was racing. I was thinking about whether or not I would employ a stealthy approach, sneak in from the back, or just walk across this sunny parking lot, you know, just put myself out there, be vulnerable, shoot my shot, when I caught my first glimpse of her. She walked in front of the doors, briefly, but slow enough for me to see her long blonde hair held up in a ponytail by a bright blue scrunchie. That’s all I could make out before watching her disappear into the darkness.
Yeah. We’re making a new friend today, even if it kills us, and maybe, just maybe, we’ll even get breakfast; Talk about our travels and tell each other our stories, of course we’ll kiss at some point, maybe around a fire, in the middle of playfully feeding each other smores, mid-giggle, and-- Hey! What the fuck! Did this chick just shoot at me? That’s not very nice.
The grass in front of me exploded a very short time after her pistol did and dirt flew into my face; some of it got into my mouth. I rolled to the side and got to my feet, rushed over to and squatted against a narrow pine tree, back to the store, and honestly, right then, I almost just said fuck it. But, as I said before, it’s been a long time, and I was lonely, and we could put all this silly stuff behind us when this is over. It’ll just be something we look back on and laugh about, a cool story to tell our kids. So I loaded my pistol, sighed, and started returning fire while making my way to the nearest car for cover.
It felt like an eternity, me firing wildly, trying not to wound or kill my potential new friend, her actively trying to murder me, almost finding her mark with each well placed shot. I didn’t bring enough bullets for this shit. She almost got me when I tripped over the leathery skeleton of a previous patron but I could almost swear that she missed on purpose. A good couple of seconds went by before the shot came and I was completely in the open, between cars so to speak, and her bullet found the skeleton’s skull instead of mine. She was showing off; how cute.
Somehow I made it to the wall just to the side of the entrance with the ability to breathe barely intact. I decided I was now close enough to try communicating verbally. So I said the first thing that came to mind. “Hi!” She answered by changing weapons and firing a single shotgun blast through the windshield of the BMW that previously tried to drive into the store way back when the driver was still able to make decisions, however bad. Nice car bro.
“It’s nice to meet you, I’m--” Bang! Shit. She’s not making this easy, at all. Okay. It’s time to speak her language again, all this shooting is making me hungry and all the food is inside. Also, a drink couldn't come soon enough. “I’m coming in, don’t shoot”, I said as I fired like ten shots into the dark entrance while scrambling inside and doing my best to roll and lay prone followed by rolling and laying prone again; I think I may have even crawled on my belly with my elbows at one point. I’m sure it looked as cool as it felt. Thanks, video games.
Now, here we are, you’re up to speed, and I’m still in checkout lane two, in the middle of my first meet cute, eating whatever impulse buys get shot into grabbing reach, waiting on my new best friend to stop trying to kill me. Time is not on my side here, so something has to shake.
Finally, she quit shooting and started talking. "Listen, dude, take the hint. I'm not here to make friends. I just want what I came for and I'll be on my way. You wouldn't want to be friends with me anyway. I'm not, uh, okay. I'm just in a really bad place in my life right now. You wouldn't understand."
"Look, whatever it is, we can talk about it, just don't shoot. I'm coming out." I tossed my pistol up onto the conveyor belt and raised my arms above my head and stood up. Silence. You could hear my stomach growling in the big, empty store. I'm just glad she didn't shoot me. "Alright, hide-and-seek it is. Ready or not, here I come." *Fuck, she's gonna kill my ass.*
But she was nowhere to be found. I searched the immediate area, searched the whole damn place. The only thing I found was a small amount of blood-stained fabric in the beer and wine aisles. I was standing there scanning the area, when it hit me. I suddenly knew why she was here. Then I briefly but frantically started taking inventory on what was left, when I heard the squelch of tires again, this time followed by a loud crash.
"Shit!" I rushed out of the front again to find that she had indeed ran out of an emergency exit while I was still in cover and tried to speed away. I ran to the car that came to rest against one of the light-posts in the far end of the parking lot. She was unconscious but breathing, and bleeding from her forehead and her bandaged forearm. The former from the wreck and the latter looked older. She came to and began to cry, not sob, just kind of sitting there crying softly.
"Really, just leave me alone."
I scanned the scene and knelt beside the open door.
"How long?" I asked.
Her eyes dropped to look at her blood-soaked bandages.
"A week." She replied.
I have this thing where I laugh at inappropriate times. So after doing that, I tried to brush her hair back out of her eyes but she recoiled and did it herself. "Look we can't stay here." I said. "Come with me, I have a place, plenty of alcohol, and plenty of things to tell you. I can help you if you just trust me."
"I know you have no reason to, but look at this." I paused. "Don't freak out." Then I showed her the bite wound on the back of my calf.
"It's been almost two months now. It's a small town, but still not safe. Nowhere is. Not anymore. But I can protect you and help you figure this out, or at least keep you from killing yourself by getting too drunk and driving your car into poles." I held out my hand and she took it. It's a good thing that I cleaned the house. Looks like I'll be having company. Now, about breakfast. | \*Camera switches on\*
Well.... I never expected it to end this way. I always imagined that if a zombie apocalypse ever breaks out i would be among the survivors . I would fight them and when the time comes i'll die while makin a sacrifice looking into that girl's eyes as she runs away.....
But fate has some other plans i guess. So here i am on Day 2 with my first ever love bite and that too from a zombie.
\*chuckles\*
Whatever. As far as i know there is no cure to it and by the time you will find this.....
well i will be dead.....
And i know its too late but love you Mum and Dad .....
And you were my life Marla and will be.
\*chuckles once more\*
\*Camera switches off\*
You keep the camera on the cashier counter and proceed to walk around it to grab two bottles of premium. You sit down on the floor, your back against the shelf containing beer bottles. You open the cap and just sip it straight.
'The bitterness doesn't matter anymore . I will die a drunk Zombie' you mumble to yourself as the sweet liquid starts to work. After chugging what felt like a whole bottle in one sip you consciousness starts too fade away, your eyes become heavy.....sleepy....drowsy.
\*BOOM \*
A loud explosion wakes you up.
''What the.....''
You open your eyes and see everything spinning. You get up taking the support of the counter but your hand slips and you fall down. You get up once more. Memories start recollecting.
''Am i a zombie now.... huh...wait..... NO!"
You let out a scream of joy realizing you still have control over yourself. you check for the bite on your forearm. It's still there. After deduction you reach the conclusion.
"So being drunk somehow saved me? What..."
As you start to sober up you start feeling a headache.
"Ah Hangover...." you moan as it starts to hurt more.
Suddenly you feel as if some fore is deteriorating your condition rapidly. It is as if death is pulling towards you. you realize its the virus kicking in. you have to drink.
"Can't get a hangover if i don't stop ...... two birds with one stone "
You stare into the nothingness for a moment which felt like an eternity.
"This should be one heck of a journey"
You smile as you take the bottle and start to open the cap......... | |
[WP] Its the zombie apocalypse, but you are bitten on the first day. You find a liquor store to drink until you die. Only you don't die you wake up still drunk but alive. As you sober up you feel your self turning. So you drink and feel better. Now you know as long as your drunk you wont turn. | Dear Cassandra
I know you won't ever see this, but hopefully another survivor will. You're going to have a lot of questions, like, why is this store so clean and orderly? What's all this weird alcohol? And why is a zombie chained to the side of a fridge?
The first question, I did it. It was the only thing I *could* do. Sweeping the floors, wiping the windows, and especially dusting, were the things that kept me sane in my drunken haze. It kept the demons at bay and the zombies stench away. I hate zombies. They're not very good company and smell *horrible*. My nose might've fallen off a month ago, but even I have standards in smell.
The second question, the alcohol, I believe is the cure for zombification. I was nearly mauled to death by a horde, but dragged myself here in time to have a bottle of whiskey to ease the pain. It worked too well, and to my amazement, I awoke from my slumber the following morning. The pains eased back like a snake's venom and I had to drink more whiskey. Life became an infinitely losing game from then. I hurt, I drank, and I cleaned till I fell asleep from exhaustion. Like I said earlier, the zombies aren't good company, and I noticed something about my body. The zombification hadn't ceased, it just slowed down. My skin fell away in patches, my nose came off like play-doh, and my eye popped out my skull this morning. There was no chance I could go back with people again.
The final question, that zombie is me. I've chained myself to this fridge and I'm writing this with a pen while pressing the paper against the wall. The alcohol should be neatly placed in their shelving, and I hope my bad company doesn't sour your visit. Zombies might smell bad and want to gnaw your face, but even they have their limits. Which is why I've left a \*present\* under the cash register. A fully-loaded shotgun. It was too painful of an idea for me to do it, but I'm sure it'll be fun target practice for you, reader.
Happy Hunting!
Tod | A clear sky shines on a desolate landscape. Ruined buildings and abandoned houses casting a shadow of civilization.
Amongst the desolation, a family traverses the empty road. A mother holding her 3 year old daughter. Her child's sleeping face the only glimmer of peace in sight. Next to her the eldest child, weary yet determined to survive. They are being led by the father with, though he is strong and resilient, he fears losing his family, as he knows with out them, his strength will no longer help him.
They cross a bridge over a body of water. What once was a marvel of human engineering, connecting a city over the ocean,now serves as a graveyard. Wrecked rusted cars fill the bridge. Each of them a reminder that escape was futile. As they approach the end, the father sees their destination.
A diminutive raft of a boat, tied to the harbor below the bridge, floated on the water. He looks back and his family, smiling weakly. They were all afraid to hope, but they dared to none the less. As they leave the bride and make their way down, the Father knocks something with his feet. A RATTLE rings out as the Father looks to the source of the sound. An empty beer can.
Panic seeps into his face, and makes its way down to his legs as he picks up the speed, and with one look to his family they all catch on. They start moving quickly towards the boat, a stair case leading to the harbor is in sight. More and more discarded cans and containers litter the floor as they move faster. Groans awaken and echo around them, each one sending their hearts into a beating panic. The son can see in his peripheral figures coming to life. As they bolt down the stairs and into the harbor, the groans fade into screams and cries. The sounds of Movement all around them. They were awake.
The father slams through a pile of beer cans and stumbles to the boat, quickly tending to the knot keeping it tied to the harbor. The son helps his mother and sister on to the boat as the screams now wail in a horrifying harmony. The father sees the shadows of figures getting closer. He must hurry. The son enters the boat after his mother, as she desperately fiddles with the engine, tugging on the string, waiting for it to come to life. The figures are no longer shadows, as a horde makes their way to the harbor. The knot is finally loose as the father looks with panic to the raft. The engine struggles to start. He can smell them now. With a tear in his eye, the father pushes the boat away from the harbor with one mighty foot. "GO". The mother screamed, not in protest, but in mourning, as she understood what had to happen. The engine comes to life, waking the youngest child as her cries over power the sounds of their escape. The Father looks on, knowing he'll never see his family again, and knowing he wouldn't have it any other way. Glass shatters on the floor as a bottle falls from some ones hand. They were behind him now. The father turns, ready to meet his end.
"Who the FUCK are youuuuuu?" Cries a drunken corpse of a girl in a tank top covered in vomit, with a severed tattooed arm on her shoulders
"Yo whoooooOOOOOoooo the fuuckkk is-" Becky stumbles.
Another zombie, a muscly 6"3 22 year old missing an arm and a red solo cup in the other arm,wobbles next to Becky, the tattoos on his stub matching the tattoos on the severed arm around Becky
"-becky you *burp* you know who this fuhhh uh fuckin-"-Bryce spaces out mid sentence
"WHooOoo the fuck ArE YOu-" Becky gags
"BeCk *burp* fuckin do u,yo Becky do u fuckin uhhhhh*burp* Becky who is this guy?" -Bryce drops his cup
One of the zombies smashes a bottle on his face as the crowd screams and laughs, as another shoves a bottle into his head giggling and gurgling on the liquor going down his throat.
One zombie, a 45 year old pudgy man in a sports jersey with half his torso bitten off,lunges at the father and puts an arm around him. He poke the father's chest while holding a bottle of Jack Daniel's "I fuCKin L ov E you brO, YouR fUUCKING FAMILY TO ME MAN, I LOVE THIS MOTherfuckeEr right here man" The pudge downs the bottle.
Becky downs a shot and tosses the glass at Bryce
"fuhCK YyOU you're a FuuuCking AsHole-" says Becky, slurring her words as she swallows the tequila
Bryce barely reacts as the glass shatters on his head. He opens his mouth and vomit seaps out.
"....*burp* Becky do you uh fuckin know this guy?"
One zombie with a Bluetooth speaker jammed into his rib cage crawls out of a pile of beer cans, snarling as he slams his head on the floor and sorts the beer puddle on the ground. Cocking his head back he screams "PARTYYYYYYYY WOOOOOO" he slams a fist into his chest and the speaker comes to life, as Timber by Pitbull (Ft.ke$ha) starts blasting. The zombies comes to life and bounce up in down to the song.
One zombie snarls and trembles, bursts of spasms over taking him. He approaches another zombie, wearing a beer holding sipping hat, simply vibing and sipping. He growls and clamps his jaws down on his arm as he gets close to sipping simpson, snarling like an angry dog. Simpson, unbothered,looks at him. "Yo this guy NEEDS a DRINKKKKK"
Some one beams a bottle right onto the zombies face, smashing it all over his head and covering him in beer. The zombie releases his bite and reels backwards, he shakes his head
"Yo..." says snarley Stanley as he licks his lips, "was that an IPA?..."
Simpson lifts his recently bitten arm to Stanely's mouth "yeah bro, here try this stuff."
Stanley absent mindedly puts the arm back in his mouth as Simpson goes back to sipping from his hat. Both enjoying the alcohol coursing through his blood.
Stanley takes the arm out of his mouth briefly and looks at Simpson "Yo dude wanna make out?"
The pudgy zombie drags The Father into the crowd.
"SHOT fuuuur thisfuckinmanherehesthe FUCKIN MANNNNN GET EMMM AAAA DRINKKKK" the hoard lets out a wicked WOOOOO in unison.
Panic sets in the father's eyes.
"P-p-please, it's barely 1 PM" Cries the father
The pudgy zombie pulls a can of bud light out of his flesh wound "its FIAVE AH CLOCK somEwhEREEEEE" he wails through slurred breath
"ITS fucking FIVE O'CLOCK SOME WHERE BITCHESSS WOOOOO" Cries Becky
Soon the whole horde of zombies chants in unison, all repeating the same thing over and over again, even tho every one heard them they insist on making noise despite not having anything new or interesting to say.
Drinks are shoved into the father's face, as the horde surrounds him. Beers, shots, wine,daiquiris, margaritas, JaegerMeister for some reason, and even rum cake.
"Please,no, please, i-i-i get terrible head aches, and and I have things to do tomorrow please-" Cries the father as he collapses to the floor. His cries go unheard, as drinks are poured on him from all corners. His screams drowned out by the mix of beer,wine, vodka, tequila, and whiskey going into his throat. Which in Jersey is called 'The WrestleMania Martini (ft.ludacris)' | |
[WP] Its the zombie apocalypse, but you are bitten on the first day. You find a liquor store to drink until you die. Only you don't die you wake up still drunk but alive. As you sober up you feel your self turning. So you drink and feel better. Now you know as long as your drunk you wont turn. | If you would have asked me a couple of months ago, before all this, how I felt about being shot at, I would have happily provided you with an answer somewhere along the lines of “fuck that noise.” But today, crouched in checkout lane two, in a dusty store, with a shotgun being fired above my head, I really couldn’t be happier. When you spend as long as I have being, seemingly, utterly alone, with only my thoughts and the rancid remains of my fellow humans, it just hits differently. Hell, I'm smiling.
At first I was sure that I had just got too much sun or had eaten some bad jerky, again. However, at this point in my investigation, I can rest assured that this was not the case. While we wait until they either lose interest in killing me, or run out of ammo, which, if i’m being honest, it seems like the first thing will occur before the second, I should take you back a little. Okay, so, when I was born-- I’m just fucking with you, relax. Let’s start with this morning.
I had slept in a little; I deserved it after cleaning my new house yesterday for five hours straight. It was a mess, what with the previous owner’s, uh, stuff, lying all around. It was a big family, a big job, and a dope ass house, so, to me, it seemed worth it. I grew up in mobile homes and apartments, never knowing how the other side lived. It wasn't long until my curiosity got the better of me. After all, why shouldn't I be comfortable? However I may have slept a little too long. I could feel It creeping in again.
So after I had the place looking the way I wanted, I was hungry, and needed a drink, so off I went to town. I was half drunk, tooling along, throwing shit at other shit, singing my “going to town” song, when this happened: ..“so I put my haaands up, they’re plaaying my-” *An engine rev, accompanied by the sweet sound of squealing tires? But how? Fuck how. Where? East. Bullshit. It can’t be. Go!*
So I went. Breakfast would have to wait. I approached the intersection where I was sure the sounds were coming from, conveniently just a couple of blocks away. Then I beheld that there were indeed the blackest of tire tracks and the unmistakable smell of burning rubber still hanging in the air. I fucking knew it! I knew I couldn’t be alone. I told you, self! I said, “self, there’s no fucking way that you’re gonna be the last asshole left on earth, because that would really be some bullshit”, and I was right! Ha! Then I followed my nose.
The parking lot seemed safe at first glance, hell, normal even, if you tilt your head and squint your eyes a little. Disregard the rotting corpses dotting the lot, amid the shopping carts and wrecked and overturned vehicles, and just look at that storefront. Why, it’s as clean and inviting as it’s ever been, as long as you also disregard the guy who got torn in two laying in front of where the bank of doors used to be. Pull yourself together, sir, this is a family market.
So there I was, lying in the grass at the crest of a hill overlooking the front of a Target, peering through a set of binoculars, determining my best course of action. I was invigorated. I had a purpose again, and my pulse was racing. I was thinking about whether or not I would employ a stealthy approach, sneak in from the back, or just walk across this sunny parking lot, you know, just put myself out there, be vulnerable, shoot my shot, when I caught my first glimpse of her. She walked in front of the doors, briefly, but slow enough for me to see her long blonde hair held up in a ponytail by a bright blue scrunchie. That’s all I could make out before watching her disappear into the darkness.
Yeah. We’re making a new friend today, even if it kills us, and maybe, just maybe, we’ll even get breakfast; Talk about our travels and tell each other our stories, of course we’ll kiss at some point, maybe around a fire, in the middle of playfully feeding each other smores, mid-giggle, and-- Hey! What the fuck! Did this chick just shoot at me? That’s not very nice.
The grass in front of me exploded a very short time after her pistol did and dirt flew into my face; some of it got into my mouth. I rolled to the side and got to my feet, rushed over to and squatted against a narrow pine tree, back to the store, and honestly, right then, I almost just said fuck it. But, as I said before, it’s been a long time, and I was lonely, and we could put all this silly stuff behind us when this is over. It’ll just be something we look back on and laugh about, a cool story to tell our kids. So I loaded my pistol, sighed, and started returning fire while making my way to the nearest car for cover.
It felt like an eternity, me firing wildly, trying not to wound or kill my potential new friend, her actively trying to murder me, almost finding her mark with each well placed shot. I didn’t bring enough bullets for this shit. She almost got me when I tripped over the leathery skeleton of a previous patron but I could almost swear that she missed on purpose. A good couple of seconds went by before the shot came and I was completely in the open, between cars so to speak, and her bullet found the skeleton’s skull instead of mine. She was showing off; how cute.
Somehow I made it to the wall just to the side of the entrance with the ability to breathe barely intact. I decided I was now close enough to try communicating verbally. So I said the first thing that came to mind. “Hi!” She answered by changing weapons and firing a single shotgun blast through the windshield of the BMW that previously tried to drive into the store way back when the driver was still able to make decisions, however bad. Nice car bro.
“It’s nice to meet you, I’m--” Bang! Shit. She’s not making this easy, at all. Okay. It’s time to speak her language again, all this shooting is making me hungry and all the food is inside. Also, a drink couldn't come soon enough. “I’m coming in, don’t shoot”, I said as I fired like ten shots into the dark entrance while scrambling inside and doing my best to roll and lay prone followed by rolling and laying prone again; I think I may have even crawled on my belly with my elbows at one point. I’m sure it looked as cool as it felt. Thanks, video games.
Now, here we are, you’re up to speed, and I’m still in checkout lane two, in the middle of my first meet cute, eating whatever impulse buys get shot into grabbing reach, waiting on my new best friend to stop trying to kill me. Time is not on my side here, so something has to shake.
Finally, she quit shooting and started talking. "Listen, dude, take the hint. I'm not here to make friends. I just want what I came for and I'll be on my way. You wouldn't want to be friends with me anyway. I'm not, uh, okay. I'm just in a really bad place in my life right now. You wouldn't understand."
"Look, whatever it is, we can talk about it, just don't shoot. I'm coming out." I tossed my pistol up onto the conveyor belt and raised my arms above my head and stood up. Silence. You could hear my stomach growling in the big, empty store. I'm just glad she didn't shoot me. "Alright, hide-and-seek it is. Ready or not, here I come." *Fuck, she's gonna kill my ass.*
But she was nowhere to be found. I searched the immediate area, searched the whole damn place. The only thing I found was a small amount of blood-stained fabric in the beer and wine aisles. I was standing there scanning the area, when it hit me. I suddenly knew why she was here. Then I briefly but frantically started taking inventory on what was left, when I heard the squelch of tires again, this time followed by a loud crash.
"Shit!" I rushed out of the front again to find that she had indeed ran out of an emergency exit while I was still in cover and tried to speed away. I ran to the car that came to rest against one of the light-posts in the far end of the parking lot. She was unconscious but breathing, and bleeding from her forehead and her bandaged forearm. The former from the wreck and the latter looked older. She came to and began to cry, not sob, just kind of sitting there crying softly.
"Really, just leave me alone."
I scanned the scene and knelt beside the open door.
"How long?" I asked.
Her eyes dropped to look at her blood-soaked bandages.
"A week." She replied.
I have this thing where I laugh at inappropriate times. So after doing that, I tried to brush her hair back out of her eyes but she recoiled and did it herself. "Look we can't stay here." I said. "Come with me, I have a place, plenty of alcohol, and plenty of things to tell you. I can help you if you just trust me."
"I know you have no reason to, but look at this." I paused. "Don't freak out." Then I showed her the bite wound on the back of my calf.
"It's been almost two months now. It's a small town, but still not safe. Nowhere is. Not anymore. But I can protect you and help you figure this out, or at least keep you from killing yourself by getting too drunk and driving your car into poles." I held out my hand and she took it. It's a good thing that I cleaned the house. Looks like I'll be having company. Now, about breakfast. | A clear sky shines on a desolate landscape. Ruined buildings and abandoned houses casting a shadow of civilization.
Amongst the desolation, a family traverses the empty road. A mother holding her 3 year old daughter. Her child's sleeping face the only glimmer of peace in sight. Next to her the eldest child, weary yet determined to survive. They are being led by the father with, though he is strong and resilient, he fears losing his family, as he knows with out them, his strength will no longer help him.
They cross a bridge over a body of water. What once was a marvel of human engineering, connecting a city over the ocean,now serves as a graveyard. Wrecked rusted cars fill the bridge. Each of them a reminder that escape was futile. As they approach the end, the father sees their destination.
A diminutive raft of a boat, tied to the harbor below the bridge, floated on the water. He looks back and his family, smiling weakly. They were all afraid to hope, but they dared to none the less. As they leave the bride and make their way down, the Father knocks something with his feet. A RATTLE rings out as the Father looks to the source of the sound. An empty beer can.
Panic seeps into his face, and makes its way down to his legs as he picks up the speed, and with one look to his family they all catch on. They start moving quickly towards the boat, a stair case leading to the harbor is in sight. More and more discarded cans and containers litter the floor as they move faster. Groans awaken and echo around them, each one sending their hearts into a beating panic. The son can see in his peripheral figures coming to life. As they bolt down the stairs and into the harbor, the groans fade into screams and cries. The sounds of Movement all around them. They were awake.
The father slams through a pile of beer cans and stumbles to the boat, quickly tending to the knot keeping it tied to the harbor. The son helps his mother and sister on to the boat as the screams now wail in a horrifying harmony. The father sees the shadows of figures getting closer. He must hurry. The son enters the boat after his mother, as she desperately fiddles with the engine, tugging on the string, waiting for it to come to life. The figures are no longer shadows, as a horde makes their way to the harbor. The knot is finally loose as the father looks with panic to the raft. The engine struggles to start. He can smell them now. With a tear in his eye, the father pushes the boat away from the harbor with one mighty foot. "GO". The mother screamed, not in protest, but in mourning, as she understood what had to happen. The engine comes to life, waking the youngest child as her cries over power the sounds of their escape. The Father looks on, knowing he'll never see his family again, and knowing he wouldn't have it any other way. Glass shatters on the floor as a bottle falls from some ones hand. They were behind him now. The father turns, ready to meet his end.
"Who the FUCK are youuuuuu?" Cries a drunken corpse of a girl in a tank top covered in vomit, with a severed tattooed arm on her shoulders
"Yo whoooooOOOOOoooo the fuuckkk is-" Becky stumbles.
Another zombie, a muscly 6"3 22 year old missing an arm and a red solo cup in the other arm,wobbles next to Becky, the tattoos on his stub matching the tattoos on the severed arm around Becky
"-becky you *burp* you know who this fuhhh uh fuckin-"-Bryce spaces out mid sentence
"WHooOoo the fuck ArE YOu-" Becky gags
"BeCk *burp* fuckin do u,yo Becky do u fuckin uhhhhh*burp* Becky who is this guy?" -Bryce drops his cup
One of the zombies smashes a bottle on his face as the crowd screams and laughs, as another shoves a bottle into his head giggling and gurgling on the liquor going down his throat.
One zombie, a 45 year old pudgy man in a sports jersey with half his torso bitten off,lunges at the father and puts an arm around him. He poke the father's chest while holding a bottle of Jack Daniel's "I fuCKin L ov E you brO, YouR fUUCKING FAMILY TO ME MAN, I LOVE THIS MOTherfuckeEr right here man" The pudge downs the bottle.
Becky downs a shot and tosses the glass at Bryce
"fuhCK YyOU you're a FuuuCking AsHole-" says Becky, slurring her words as she swallows the tequila
Bryce barely reacts as the glass shatters on his head. He opens his mouth and vomit seaps out.
"....*burp* Becky do you uh fuckin know this guy?"
One zombie with a Bluetooth speaker jammed into his rib cage crawls out of a pile of beer cans, snarling as he slams his head on the floor and sorts the beer puddle on the ground. Cocking his head back he screams "PARTYYYYYYYY WOOOOOO" he slams a fist into his chest and the speaker comes to life, as Timber by Pitbull (Ft.ke$ha) starts blasting. The zombies comes to life and bounce up in down to the song.
One zombie snarls and trembles, bursts of spasms over taking him. He approaches another zombie, wearing a beer holding sipping hat, simply vibing and sipping. He growls and clamps his jaws down on his arm as he gets close to sipping simpson, snarling like an angry dog. Simpson, unbothered,looks at him. "Yo this guy NEEDS a DRINKKKKK"
Some one beams a bottle right onto the zombies face, smashing it all over his head and covering him in beer. The zombie releases his bite and reels backwards, he shakes his head
"Yo..." says snarley Stanley as he licks his lips, "was that an IPA?..."
Simpson lifts his recently bitten arm to Stanely's mouth "yeah bro, here try this stuff."
Stanley absent mindedly puts the arm back in his mouth as Simpson goes back to sipping from his hat. Both enjoying the alcohol coursing through his blood.
Stanley takes the arm out of his mouth briefly and looks at Simpson "Yo dude wanna make out?"
The pudgy zombie drags The Father into the crowd.
"SHOT fuuuur thisfuckinmanherehesthe FUCKIN MANNNNN GET EMMM AAAA DRINKKKK" the hoard lets out a wicked WOOOOO in unison.
Panic sets in the father's eyes.
"P-p-please, it's barely 1 PM" Cries the father
The pudgy zombie pulls a can of bud light out of his flesh wound "its FIAVE AH CLOCK somEwhEREEEEE" he wails through slurred breath
"ITS fucking FIVE O'CLOCK SOME WHERE BITCHESSS WOOOOO" Cries Becky
Soon the whole horde of zombies chants in unison, all repeating the same thing over and over again, even tho every one heard them they insist on making noise despite not having anything new or interesting to say.
Drinks are shoved into the father's face, as the horde surrounds him. Beers, shots, wine,daiquiris, margaritas, JaegerMeister for some reason, and even rum cake.
"Please,no, please, i-i-i get terrible head aches, and and I have things to do tomorrow please-" Cries the father as he collapses to the floor. His cries go unheard, as drinks are poured on him from all corners. His screams drowned out by the mix of beer,wine, vodka, tequila, and whiskey going into his throat. Which in Jersey is called 'The WrestleMania Martini (ft.ludacris)' | |
[WP] You were born of a sacrilegious union. Your green dragon mom never figured the knight she seduced while masquerading as a noblewoman was a silver dragon in disguise. You'd no idea either, born a human orphan. When your dragon blood awoke, so did the dangers which all your heritage entails. | I was walking home one day, enjoying the scents of the Melerath’s bakeries, when it happened. It had been a pleasant day, up until that point. I’d spent the day working as a cook at the Golden Kettle, one of the three inns in the small village of Cimar. My dress was thoroughly infused with the savory scent of the herbal bread I’d baked. Tomorrow, my sister Clara would visit, and I would be able to pinch the cheeks of her adorable newborn. I had grown tired a little sooner than usual today, but I was looking forward to the weekend.
Until my head burst open. At first I thought the pain was just a nasty headache. I had those occasionally, and sometimes they were so bad that I literally thought that my brain would pour out of my eyes. I stumbled forwards onto my hands and knees, dizzy with pain, and began to realize something was seriously wrong when blood started dripping onto the cobblestone road. As I tried to push myself off the ground, my bones began to crack. Blood began trickling into my eyes as things within my body began to drastically shift. When I raised a hand to wipe my eyes, it was...it felt…
Well, crap. It was finally happening.
Oh. Yes. Some background. My name is Isabel. I am seventeen years old. I was adopted when I was three, and I am actually a dragon. But I didn’t know the whole story at the time. You see, the orphanage had...hmm, I wouldn’t say ‘received me as a donation along with a hefty chunk of gold’ but that’s basically what happened. When I turned sixteen, I was contacted by a huffy old clerk-type man who informed me that the Savrian bank had a vault that had been designated for me by my mother. When we cracked it open, my jaw dropped. Gold and silver coins lay in the center of the chamber, piled nearly to the ceiling. Scattered amidst the currency were various bits and pieces of treasure--a statue, a sword, a wooden chest inlaid with gems were among the most noticeable.
Atop that treasure pile lay a single dragon scale. At first I thought it was a plate, but who would make a plate out of an emerald? It was the first item I grabbed out of the vault, since I have a thing for emeralds. Written on the other side of the scale was a message.
“To my daughter, Isabel. You are the child of Leskarra, Verdant Lady of the Ambrien woods, Mistress of the duchy of Rheos. On the day of your seventeenth birthday, fly to my realm. You shall know it, for it is the place of your hatching.
Leskarra, Green Dragon of Rheos.”
This left me confused. Was my mom really a dragon? Had I hatched from an egg in a forest somewhere? I had never heard of any lady Leskarra or duchy named Rheos. This could simply be a treasure that my mother had received as a gift from someone who actually was mothered by a dragon...but that seemed just as unlikely as having a parent that was a legendary beast. I was unnerved by this plate, and didn’t share it with my adoptive mom and dad. It’s still in the vault, along with most of the gold. I took a pile of it for myself. Dad also took some, since I was fine with it. He used it to buy a new and nicer house. The treasure was just so...massive. The money we hauled away had diminished it about as much as taking a bucket of water from the sea would.
For about eight months, I pondered on whether I should go back to the vault and get more money. Yet something tingled on my spine whenever I considered it. I...didn’t want to go back. There was something undefinable about that treasure that was just wrong. And yet that feeling didn’t keep me from having some hidden in my room--literally inside of my mattress. Just like a dragon, in hindsight. I pursued a bunch of artistic things, like painting and sculpting, and never got truly good at any of them. Every night, I You can see how you mess up waaaay better in the future...so...whatever. Back to the suffering.
I’m on my hands and knees, bleeding so much that the street seemed to be flooding. My flesh was literally peeling off, revealing scales underneath. As I sloughed off the last of my human skin, the pain stopped. I was still on all fours, but it didn’t feel nearly as stupid or clumsy. I was also much larger, and had an additional pair of limbs on my back. I looked at myself, and realization set in. I was now a dragon, with green and silver scales, and I stood at the center of what looked like a murder scene.
So I did the only thing that I could think of. I got the hell out of there. I spread my newly-acquired wings and took to the sky. And my adventures took off from there. Needless to say, I did not get to see my nephew, and I wouldn’t want to. I doubt I could have touched him without nicking him with my claws, much less gently pinched him. Someday I would, though. Someday I’d be back. Once all of the ‘being a dragon’ was sorted out. | I had always hated the orphanage. Always the same old crones yelling at you about this and that and whatnot.
Headmistress Chance was the worst. The old fart walked with a limp. She said it was from a war injury, however we knew she was lying. Especially because we could see how prominent her Habsburg chin was. We kept making fun of her, calling her "Headmistress Chins." This only pissed her off more and made her even crankier.
She hated me the most, always referring to me as "bastard" or "spoiled nuisance" if she was in a good mood, however if she was not she would say worse things. And yet we didn't care. She bragged about all the accomplishments she had done, and yet no orphan there, human or not, cared. If she talked about how she was a dragon, she would always be asked how many towns she razed or how many people she ate.
I did this many days after I noticed shiny, prism-like scales in my bed. And of course, she taunted me. "Oh? So you decided to talk back to me. Again. Why don't you unfurl your wings...oh wait, you can't, because you're a bastard child!" I felt anger rising through me. "Why don't you unfurl yours, bitch?" I asked. Soon I realized that many of the students were staring at me in awe. I then became aware of the apparent weight on my shoulders, which had manifested in dragon wings, large and thick with scales the color of mithril. I looked towards her, my scales darkening to black. "Now, will you unfurl yours?"
She did, and when she did, the whole class started laughing their asses off. Her wings were more scrawny than mine, and each was a sickly shade of green. "So, Chins," I smirked. "Will you shut up now?" She snarled, dragging me to her office. "Insolent boy. Us dragons have no time for bastards." "Orange dragons came from yellow dragons and red dragons." She slapped me before shoving my face into two family trees. "Look at this, boy. Do you see the green and silver dragons at the top?" I nodded. "Those are your parents. A colored dragon and a metallic dragon. Now look down the trees slowly." I did, realizing that both of them were hybrids themselves, possessing traits caused by many dragons of different hues having offspring. I calmly looked at her. "Jealous?"
She transformed into the ugliest dragon I saw. "No. You are a heretic, borne of a heretical union. You must die." The toothless dragon sprang, only for me to grab her horns and wrench her head sideways, snapping her neck. I looked at my hands, now covered with black scales, the fingernails glowing orange. I stumbled back, soon looking into a mirror. My eyes were glowing orange as well, as were the tips of my horns. All else on my dragon head and humanoid body was a glossy black. I calmed myself before walking out of the office and orphanage. That bitch was no longer ruling over me. I ruled over myself.
I, the Prince of Darkness, Bearer of Flame, would start on a journey I would never regret. | |
[WP] You were born of a sacrilegious union. Your green dragon mom never figured the knight she seduced while masquerading as a noblewoman was a silver dragon in disguise. You'd no idea either, born a human orphan. When your dragon blood awoke, so did the dangers which all your heritage entails. | A multitude of people ranging from peasants to nobles alike massed in the town square. A dragon had been spotted and was going to be sacrificed. I don't know what to expect, since it's my first time witnessing the killing of a dragon. You hear stories of how it goes, but some of them contradict each other.
Two strong men in black pulled a young frail woman up the stage where long chains and shackles rested.
"I'm not a dragon, Uric is lying to you! He wants war between my country and the Culllinas people!" The woman was speaking to Lord Rolton, trying to convince him to stop the sacrifice. Her begging was too much for me, so I stopped listening and turned my attention to the iron dragon holders.
A large shackle mean for the neck stood up like an empty wheel, large spikes in the inside threatening the would be wearer. Four shackles laid on the floor with big iron chains assuring to hold the dragon in place no matter what size it grew to after the transformation. The woman was laid on the floor with her neck inside the wheel. The woman's tiny neck surrounded by the large shackle made it almost a comical scene. The silence of the crowd was such that I could hear the clicks and the dragging of the iron chains through the wooden planks as the woman was being strapped from wrists and ankles. The two men finished and signaled a very old man, guessing by the wrinkles on his forehead. He walked slowly and pulled a yellow vial from his robes. He lowered and poured the yellow contents into the woman's mouth. She tried to close her mouth and move her head, but the large man in black forced her to look up to the sky, defenseless as she was forced to drink the contents.
The woman's body arched and her skin started to turn dark. "Let's back up a little, son. That could be a black dragon. We don't want to be here when the transformation is complete." I heard a father to my left, he led his son to the back of the crowd as the woman's body started to change more drastically. She was howling and making horrible noises and more people started to back away from the stage. I took advantage of this and slipped to the front of the crowd where my view was much better.
The body was growing larger, the neck inching closer to the threatening spikes of the death collar. Her skin started to turn into dark scales. A smell of sulphur penetrated my nose and made me turn my face. I was alone. Every single person in the square backed up looking for shelter. I heard children's screams as their mothers hurried them back home without looking back.
"It's a blue dragon! Come back! There's nothing to fear!" Uric shouted.
Uric wore his royal armor with pride, he had blond short straight hair and his royal red cape waved in the wind as he spoke.
"Look! It's blue!" Uric repeated.
It was true, her skin had distinctly turned into blue scales. The crowd started screaming and yelling and some eager young peasants came back running to get a good spot next to me. The crowd started to pour in throwing insults and rotten food at the poor woman. Well, to the now dragon. A quite small dragon that didn't fill the neck's shackles and would have to be manually sacrificed.
The dragon roared and let out a burst of flame right in front of it. The crowd laughed and grew more confident in their insults and humiliations. It was then that I made the biggest mistake of my life. I looked at the dragon's eyes and I saw no monster. I had to do something. | I had always hated the orphanage. Always the same old crones yelling at you about this and that and whatnot.
Headmistress Chance was the worst. The old fart walked with a limp. She said it was from a war injury, however we knew she was lying. Especially because we could see how prominent her Habsburg chin was. We kept making fun of her, calling her "Headmistress Chins." This only pissed her off more and made her even crankier.
She hated me the most, always referring to me as "bastard" or "spoiled nuisance" if she was in a good mood, however if she was not she would say worse things. And yet we didn't care. She bragged about all the accomplishments she had done, and yet no orphan there, human or not, cared. If she talked about how she was a dragon, she would always be asked how many towns she razed or how many people she ate.
I did this many days after I noticed shiny, prism-like scales in my bed. And of course, she taunted me. "Oh? So you decided to talk back to me. Again. Why don't you unfurl your wings...oh wait, you can't, because you're a bastard child!" I felt anger rising through me. "Why don't you unfurl yours, bitch?" I asked. Soon I realized that many of the students were staring at me in awe. I then became aware of the apparent weight on my shoulders, which had manifested in dragon wings, large and thick with scales the color of mithril. I looked towards her, my scales darkening to black. "Now, will you unfurl yours?"
She did, and when she did, the whole class started laughing their asses off. Her wings were more scrawny than mine, and each was a sickly shade of green. "So, Chins," I smirked. "Will you shut up now?" She snarled, dragging me to her office. "Insolent boy. Us dragons have no time for bastards." "Orange dragons came from yellow dragons and red dragons." She slapped me before shoving my face into two family trees. "Look at this, boy. Do you see the green and silver dragons at the top?" I nodded. "Those are your parents. A colored dragon and a metallic dragon. Now look down the trees slowly." I did, realizing that both of them were hybrids themselves, possessing traits caused by many dragons of different hues having offspring. I calmly looked at her. "Jealous?"
She transformed into the ugliest dragon I saw. "No. You are a heretic, borne of a heretical union. You must die." The toothless dragon sprang, only for me to grab her horns and wrench her head sideways, snapping her neck. I looked at my hands, now covered with black scales, the fingernails glowing orange. I stumbled back, soon looking into a mirror. My eyes were glowing orange as well, as were the tips of my horns. All else on my dragon head and humanoid body was a glossy black. I calmed myself before walking out of the office and orphanage. That bitch was no longer ruling over me. I ruled over myself.
I, the Prince of Darkness, Bearer of Flame, would start on a journey I would never regret. | |
[WP] You were born of a sacrilegious union. Your green dragon mom never figured the knight she seduced while masquerading as a noblewoman was a silver dragon in disguise. You'd no idea either, born a human orphan. When your dragon blood awoke, so did the dangers which all your heritage entails. | I had ridden across the Plains of Carobi with a battalion of men at my flank. I had trudged through the Derelict Marshes, cleaving through whatever horrors emerged from the crypts that lie below. The blood of three of my kind rusted the corners of my breastplate, and yet I was sitting in a banquet hall, more terrified than I had ever been. Surrounded by drunken lords and their whispering advisors.
I had just been promoted and was attending a celebration commemorating Lord Losento's latest victory. I was to command his army- a force of three hundred and fifty knights with an auxiliary of two thousand infantrymen attached. My latest performance had caught his eye, and he thought it necessary to commemorate the occasion. The shouts and laughs of the lords were a blur to me, my gaze was fixed across the table. Elana sat cloaked in white and silver, returning an uneasy stare. In a month's time, we were to be married, but we both knew what would happen tonight. Rumors of my birth had been circulating, and beneath the deafening banter that filled the room lay whispers of my undoing. After my last hunt, Elana had asked me what was bothering me. What was I to say to her, the woman who I loved more than anything? What lie could have saved us from what was about to happen?
I was a demon, the kind that mothers warned their children of at night. The kind that sent noblemen and peasants alike flocking to the temples as if they were kin. The kind of which I was paraded through the streets for slaying. The last dragon that I hunted, after I had plunged my blade into its neck, spoke to me in a tongue that I had never before understood. Its words pierced my skull, I thought I was going to go mad from the pain, but beneath that suffering, there was something else... Some horrible force that had tempted me for as long as I could remember. He...It remembered my scent from long ago, and knew the two that had spawned me. It choked out words of my mother and father, of the twisted love they had shared. I didn't want to believe it, and a torrent of mistruths flooded my mind to provide me some meager comfort. There was no point in listening to them and I knew it. I stood back and gazed at the serpent, at the platinum scales that covered the length of its body. I watched as its chest lifted and collapsed, trying to sustain its life for a few moments more. This beast, laying in a pool of its own blood with a throat split from end to end, had the gall to pity me. I hacked away at it for as long as I could, but even with its head severed from its body, its eyes were locked onto mine.
The dragon was still staring at me at the banquet hall. Its head was mounted above Elana and her father. At that moment the doors to the hall's entrance were opened, and my trance was broken by the arrival of Sir Kaywin. The torches of the hall reflected off of his bronze armor, and for a moment it had seemed as if something divine had entered the room. Behind him, a row of knights marched in formation. A platoon of the most skilled dragon hunters on the continent, led by my old mentor. Kaywin kneeled to Losento and sat at his side. I knew that Kaywin had been hunting in the South, and I knew the dragon that he was hunting. He wouldn't have abandoned that pursuit even for an invitation from the King himself. He and his men were here to kill me. There was no way for me to escape, and no possibility of me fighting through every knight in the room. I was a fool for not running the night before. Was I just supposed to lay down and die like a dog? I looked back at Elana, I wanted to plead with her to take my side and lie on my behalf, but it was already too late. I was alone. The castle guards were barring the doors, and Lord Losento stood from his chair.
"My esteemed guests!" He bellowed.
"We are here today to celebrate the death of a terrible monster that has terrorized this land for years! We are also here to acknowledge the knight who slew this foul creature, and extend our thanks to him!"
My hands were shaking under the table. Was I going to do it? Betray everything that I had known? Everything I had worked for and loved? And with what? I had already surrendered my sword at the door. Had I groveled on the streets for years only to die at the hands of those I had protected? If everything that I had fought for and believed was true, then wasn't I just a monster who deserved to die?
"With this said, some rumors have come about that have troubled me to my core, and I like you, wish for the answers we are entitled to."
I looked around the hall, a number of the lords had left before the doors had been barred. Those who remained only stared at me with fear in their eyes. At that moment a squad of knights encircled me, their halberds forming a cage I had no hope of escaping. I turned to Lasento and begged for the first time since I was a child.
"My lord, these rumors, they are nothing but lies. I have sworn on my honor and life to defe-"
One of the soldier's halberds pierced my back, splattering my blood across the hall's floor. I collapsed to my knees. Elana stepped backward slowly while covering her mouth, weeping.
A seer approached and ran her fingers through my blood on the floor. She held her hand over a small stone bowl filled with prepared ingredients, and let a drop of blood fall in. Immediately, the blood burst out of the bowl and crystallized, forming a sculpture nearly three feet high. She dropped the bowl and the sculpture shattered on the ground. The seer looked up to Lord Losento with fear in her eyes and quickly nodded her head.
"Well, it appears we have an answer, kill this demon!" Kaywin screamed
I glimpsed at the crystals on the ground and felt something familiar. Something that I had known my whole life, but had never seen until now. I vomited. My flesh began to burn and massive silver crystals burst out of my skin, one impaling the soldier who held the halberd in my back. I could hear my bones shattering and reforming into crystals one by one, quickly enlarging. Then, a violent flame enveloped me, burning away the rest of my skin. I screamed, I screamed until my voice had burned away. The flames were growing out of control and began to consume the hall. The soldiers began to scream and run, with the exception of Kaywin and his guard. He ordered them to move back and hold a formation. I screamed silently, until my voice began to return, only it wasn't mine. I recognized the sound, I had heard it from the beasts I had hunted before.
As the flames spread across my crystalized bones, skin as hard as stone began to appear around them. Silver scales covered my new flesh, and I now towered over the denizens of the room. I felt a power and hatred I had never known before, then I glimpsed at Elana. She sat on the floor, her eyes affixed to me.
"Daven..." she whispered.
A large chain was thrown around my neck, with five men on each side pulling downwards. The soldiers then threw three spears, with two bouncing off and one piercing my chest. The soldiers holding the chain pulled harder until I couldn't resist any longer. I was pulled to the floor, and couldn't move. Four soldiers sprinted towards me with their blades drawn. | I had always hated the orphanage. Always the same old crones yelling at you about this and that and whatnot.
Headmistress Chance was the worst. The old fart walked with a limp. She said it was from a war injury, however we knew she was lying. Especially because we could see how prominent her Habsburg chin was. We kept making fun of her, calling her "Headmistress Chins." This only pissed her off more and made her even crankier.
She hated me the most, always referring to me as "bastard" or "spoiled nuisance" if she was in a good mood, however if she was not she would say worse things. And yet we didn't care. She bragged about all the accomplishments she had done, and yet no orphan there, human or not, cared. If she talked about how she was a dragon, she would always be asked how many towns she razed or how many people she ate.
I did this many days after I noticed shiny, prism-like scales in my bed. And of course, she taunted me. "Oh? So you decided to talk back to me. Again. Why don't you unfurl your wings...oh wait, you can't, because you're a bastard child!" I felt anger rising through me. "Why don't you unfurl yours, bitch?" I asked. Soon I realized that many of the students were staring at me in awe. I then became aware of the apparent weight on my shoulders, which had manifested in dragon wings, large and thick with scales the color of mithril. I looked towards her, my scales darkening to black. "Now, will you unfurl yours?"
She did, and when she did, the whole class started laughing their asses off. Her wings were more scrawny than mine, and each was a sickly shade of green. "So, Chins," I smirked. "Will you shut up now?" She snarled, dragging me to her office. "Insolent boy. Us dragons have no time for bastards." "Orange dragons came from yellow dragons and red dragons." She slapped me before shoving my face into two family trees. "Look at this, boy. Do you see the green and silver dragons at the top?" I nodded. "Those are your parents. A colored dragon and a metallic dragon. Now look down the trees slowly." I did, realizing that both of them were hybrids themselves, possessing traits caused by many dragons of different hues having offspring. I calmly looked at her. "Jealous?"
She transformed into the ugliest dragon I saw. "No. You are a heretic, borne of a heretical union. You must die." The toothless dragon sprang, only for me to grab her horns and wrench her head sideways, snapping her neck. I looked at my hands, now covered with black scales, the fingernails glowing orange. I stumbled back, soon looking into a mirror. My eyes were glowing orange as well, as were the tips of my horns. All else on my dragon head and humanoid body was a glossy black. I calmed myself before walking out of the office and orphanage. That bitch was no longer ruling over me. I ruled over myself.
I, the Prince of Darkness, Bearer of Flame, would start on a journey I would never regret. | |
[WP] "I'm sorry detective, after the last stunt you pulled no one else is willing to be your partner. It's either you partner with the human or your off the force." | A smirk flashed across her lips accompanied by a dark aura emanating from her eyes.
"Is that the case?"
"Y-yes." He stuttered.
"Well then, i'm off." She confidently stated in a flat-tone earning a gasp from her comrade.
"Are you sure about that?" Knowing full well that she loves her work more than anything, Lucas can't accept her dismissal.
"Coz you said no one's willing right?" Laire crossed her arms half-heartedly across her chest, "But remember Lucas? I saved your life."
Reality slapped him hard; this annoying but hard-working woman saved his life more than once while she herself was wounded.
"If you don't have anything to say Lucas, i'll be off. My cats are waiting for me," She winked then strolled off leaving him no choice at all.
"FINE LAIRE!" Lucas shouted as he tried to follow her fast-pace stroll. "Fine! I get your point!"
Laire turned around looking at him innocently with those purplish pair of orbs, "Are you sure Lukeeeee?!"
He roled his eyes knowing she's playing with him.
"Stop it Laire, it doesn't suit you." Irritated, he signed the document to officialy declare that he will be her partner.
"Yeyyyy!" Laire jumped up and down in glee as she hold the documents in her hand. "This is a beautiful sight Luke! Thank you so much!!!!"
Luke sigh, giving himself a slap on the cheeks.
"What in the world did i get into?" | "Well how can I solve this murder mystery and catch the serial killer The Jaeger if I don't have a partner of the same race I am?"
That's exactly what Kaida said. Kaida is of the Yukati, a race that consists only of women and they are incredibly intelligent. The average IQ of a Yukati is 300. The intelligence is usually most effective if two or more work together.
The stunt she pulled was that of she and Uri, her previous partner, trying to lure him into a trap by making a disguised call to the criminal hitman The Jaeger that they have a person to kill. And they gave him coordinates that led right into the trap. However, the plan backfired and both of them ended up wounded.
The Jaeger was an infamous serial killer that fronted as a hitman for hire and often killed whoever called him.
The GIA (Galactic Intelligence Agency) could not stand for The Jaeger to keep killing, so they asked Kaida for help.
Now after the trap backfiring on Kaida and Uri, the GIA wanted her to partner with the human, a teenage girl named Shino Tsukiyama.
Kaida had no choice. No one else was willing to be her partner other than Uri, but Uri was in the hospital.
"Well then, I'll see what we can do."
"Tsukiyama-san, you'll have to partner with Kaida-chan here."
"...You used that honorific cause I'm a girl, did you not? You could have done it better with calling me 'Kaida-senpai...'"
So now GIA agents Kaida and Tsukiyama are on the same mission that Kaida was with Uri on. And the GIA hopes that Kaida doesn't mess up the case in catching The Jaeger.
Remember, Kaida is trying to catch The Jaeger for the GIA and earn some money. She will need to find where he is at and catch him in a most effective way. Tsukiyama is also helping with the plan to trap The Jaeger and arrest him for good.
So far The Jaeger has killed 12 people. The GIA will need Kaida to arrest him before he kills a 13th. | |
[WP] You exit the mall, having just finished a shopping spree. You locate your car, but see that it has been crushed from above. Whatever crushed it is now gone. Luckily, you find a note: “I’m sorry that my time machine landed on your car. My agency will pay for repairs. Just call this number!” | I looked down at the number in disbelief then back up to the pancake of metal scrap. My laptop was in there. And my good pair of sunglasses.
“Time machine,” I scoffed, dialing the number and placing my bags on the floor. As the phone started dialing, a sad dying sputtering static came from the car. I realized my Bluetooth speaker had malfunctioned when in being crushed and was trying to pair again. I turned off Bluetooth, adding it to the list of things I would want paid for. On top of the emotional trauma of seeing my thirty-year-old clunker destroyed. It had another six months in it, at least.
“Hello, you’re calling about the car? Leslie? Sorry, you go by Les, right. I have all your effects written up right here,” the voice on the other end said quickly as if he was juggling a dozen things at once. “Car, BlueTooth, glasses, laptop? Anything else?”
“Y…” I twisted my head one way. “N… What? How did you—”
“Don’t worry about the details, a lot of time shenanigans,” he dismissed me. “When are you?”
“I’m at the parking lot where my car was destroyed, how are you planning on compensating—”
“What time is it?” he asked quickly, a series of buttons and switches being flipped loudly on his end.
“It’s 2:30, why do you care—”
A white orb appeared a few feet above my former car and grew at an alarming rate. I blinked a took a few steps back, running into the car in the next occupied parking spot. The orb changed shape into a white car that soon gained a red hue and plopped down on my destroyed vehicle, sending it another few inches closer to the ground.
The driver’s side door flew open and a young man with crazed eyes jumped out, arms open to present the car.
“Sorry about the old one, I got you another one. Stocked with all the old stuff,” he said grandly.
“What is happening?”
“I broke into your car the moment before I destroyed it and grabbed all the stuff I crushed like your laptop and glasses and stuff and then put them in here before bringing the car to this time!” he explained.
“You… the time travel thing is real?” I asked. “You actually built one of the greatest marvels of engineering and used it to break my car?”
“Yeah! You wanna try it out?” he asked, excitedly.
“The car or the time machine?” I asked, intrigued.
“The time mach—”
“Leslie! Don’t take Tim up on the offer!” a voice came from behind me. My eyes went wide with surprise. That was my voice. I turned around slowly to see another me but wearing the clothes I just bought at the mall. I knew the sweater wouldn’t look good with those pants, but it looked worse than I even imagined.
“Why?” I asked. “What happens if I take the time travel trip?” I asked.
“You regret it for the rest of your life,” another version of me appeared, but with streaks of mascara running down her face. I’d been crying.
“Where did you come from?” Tim asked them, confused.
“Tim! Don’t give them a ride in the time machine!” another, bearded version of Tim came out of the passenger seat of the new car.
“Okay, what,” Tim said, “that doesn’t even make sense, the time machine doesn’t work like that!”
“Not yet!” Bearded Tim said earnestly, “but you create paradoxes after taking the items from the car, and they converge here!”
“Alright, I’ve decided I just want to take the new car and go,” I said, as the voices clamored over one another.
“No! Get in there and you die!” Poorly-Dressed Leslie said. “I would know, it happened to me!”
“... you died?” I clarified.
“I’m actually not sure,” she admitted. “It was a different timeline.”
“If you died… you would be dead!” I tried to explain.
“Nah, that doesn’t sound like science,” she shook her head.
Another orb appeared above my new car. We turned to look the Tims and Leslies equally surprised by the newcomer. It took shape of a tank and crushed both cars to nothing more than a sheet of metal.
Caped-Even-More-Bearded Tim rose out of the hatch at the top stoically.
“The Time War is upon us. We cannot with without you. Please, I need your help,” he said, his wrinkled face looking out to a horizon as if watching another, more harrowing scene.
“Of course we’ll help,” the Tims said, climbing on the broken mess of my cars. I was surprised to see the Leslies follow them to the tank as well.
“Where are you going?” I asked them.
“This is the Time War. I think I die there,” Poorly-Dressed Leslie said.
“I’m not missing a chance to time travel,” Crying Leslie said.
“Well, yeah, me too,” I agreed, approaching the tank.
“No,” the newest Tim said boldly. “You mustn’t leave this time.”
“Okay, but are you gonna pay for the car?” I asked.
“Farewell,” he waved with one hand as a white sheen came over him and warped him away.
I looked at the two crushed cars, then back to my bag of clothes.
“Alright, I’ll make a couple of returns and then call car insurance regarding acts of time travel,” I told myself, turning back around to the mall.
_______________________
/r/Nazer_The_Lazer | Jay punches in the number on your phone, feeling bewildered all throughout. Is this really happening? Was he really calling a time travel agency?
Well, whoever is on the phone picks up. No time to panic.
"Hello?" goes a female voice.
"Yeah, hey," he says. "Um, I came back from tennis to find my-"
"Car *crashed*," she finishes, then sighs. "I'm Avie, by the way. Short for Avagail. Sorry about the whole car and stuff, trial runs can be a bitch. Um, if you give us your name we'll wire then ecessary money to your account, plus a bonus if you keep quiet about this. We're not doing anything illegal or evil, we're just trying to get these damn time travel machines to work."
*She has a nice voice*, he thinks. It was clear and sweet, like flower perfumed spring air.
"I don't want money," he says. "I want to work for you."
There's a silence on the other end.
"Hello?" he asks.
"Uh, yeah, I'm here. It's just- this isn't exactly protocal. I have to ask my supervisors."
She goes off the phone, and he can hear her talking to someone, their gender made unknown by distance. Then she comes back. "Give us your address, and we'll pick you up in an hour."
"Sure," he says.
He goes home, starts packing. It's lucky he has few friends and possessions, and no family members. An orphan through and through. At six sharp, there's a knock on the door. Jay opens it to see a very beautiful woman in a short red dress. She slides her golden blonde ponytail of her shoulder and grins at him through emerald eyes.
"Hi, Jay" she says, and he recognizes her voice.
"Hey, Avie," he reply, and invite her in.
She sits down on the couch, makes herself comfortable. He bring in some lemonade and chocolatte cookies. She takes a cookie and nibbles on it.
"So, you have a girlfriend? Family members?" she asks casually.
"Nope. My first girlfriend died, and, well, I've just not been able to move on. I moved away from my friends, my homeland. Never had any parents or anything."
"Oh, that's awful." Those blue eyes are so sympathetic. "Let's take you to headquarters, hm? Get you introduced to everyone. Hopefully you'll make some more friends and maybe-" she smiles a sly smile "-get a love life. Sounds good?"
He stands up, grabbing your duffel bag and backpack. "Sounds great."
Jay follows her to her blue sedan. Getting in, he almost catches a sight of something silver, but it's gone before he guesses what it is, and he passes it off as the reflection of the moon or something.
She drives for a while before stopping at a forest. "We take a trail here," she says, opening the door and climbing out.
They start down the trail in silence. *It's weird how she's so quiet, when at home she was so chatty. But hey! Maybe she's nervous? Anyway, it's a nice silence. Not awkward.*
Halfway through, she stops. "I can't take this longer," she says, and slides her arms around his neck and kisses him.
He's stunned, but responds eagerly. Her lips are soft and she tastes like peaches. Somewhere along the way, he feels something cool and vaguely metal pressing against his heart, but dismisses it.
She pulls back slightly. She whispers, "You should have stuck with the money," and drives the knife into his heart. | |
[WP] You exit the mall, having just finished a shopping spree. You locate your car, but see that it has been crushed from above. Whatever crushed it is now gone. Luckily, you find a note: “I’m sorry that my time machine landed on your car. My agency will pay for repairs. Just call this number!” | “I’m sorry that my time machine landed on your car. My agency will pay for repairs. Just call this number...yesterday!”
Call the number yesterday? This didn't happen until today. I can't call yes...
Someone taps me on the shoulder. I turn. "What!!!???"
There stands a guy in a weird flight suit looking outfit, goggles over his eyes. "You'll borrow my time machine next Thursday, go back in time, and your car will be fixed..."
"Six months ago," I finish, snap my fingers. That's when my car went missing for a day. The cops didn't find it...
"They never looked," says the guy.
"The next day it had the brand new roof."
"Right!"
I look at the car. "But you crashed your time machine on it today."
"Whose time machine?" The guy lifts his goggles - my goggles. He has a beard, long hair, but he's me.
"Oh my..."
"Exactly!" A hole opens in the air behind him. Inside is a control looking room, like from Star Trek or something.
"Very cool," I say as he steps through the hole.
"Phase shifted reality stealth skin - bubble universe control room. Installed it next week," he replies as the hole/door closes behind him.
But the car is still wrecked now. I guess I'm on the bus for a week. Then...
A short figure hides behind a light pole in the distance. He watches, peeking around the pole. He's thin, balding, wearing goggles even crazier than the time traveler wears. The lenses turn on their own, adjusting...maybe zooming in and out.
"So that's how he starts," mutters the man to himself. "Time for plan B." | Jay punches in the number on your phone, feeling bewildered all throughout. Is this really happening? Was he really calling a time travel agency?
Well, whoever is on the phone picks up. No time to panic.
"Hello?" goes a female voice.
"Yeah, hey," he says. "Um, I came back from tennis to find my-"
"Car *crashed*," she finishes, then sighs. "I'm Avie, by the way. Short for Avagail. Sorry about the whole car and stuff, trial runs can be a bitch. Um, if you give us your name we'll wire then ecessary money to your account, plus a bonus if you keep quiet about this. We're not doing anything illegal or evil, we're just trying to get these damn time travel machines to work."
*She has a nice voice*, he thinks. It was clear and sweet, like flower perfumed spring air.
"I don't want money," he says. "I want to work for you."
There's a silence on the other end.
"Hello?" he asks.
"Uh, yeah, I'm here. It's just- this isn't exactly protocal. I have to ask my supervisors."
She goes off the phone, and he can hear her talking to someone, their gender made unknown by distance. Then she comes back. "Give us your address, and we'll pick you up in an hour."
"Sure," he says.
He goes home, starts packing. It's lucky he has few friends and possessions, and no family members. An orphan through and through. At six sharp, there's a knock on the door. Jay opens it to see a very beautiful woman in a short red dress. She slides her golden blonde ponytail of her shoulder and grins at him through emerald eyes.
"Hi, Jay" she says, and he recognizes her voice.
"Hey, Avie," he reply, and invite her in.
She sits down on the couch, makes herself comfortable. He bring in some lemonade and chocolatte cookies. She takes a cookie and nibbles on it.
"So, you have a girlfriend? Family members?" she asks casually.
"Nope. My first girlfriend died, and, well, I've just not been able to move on. I moved away from my friends, my homeland. Never had any parents or anything."
"Oh, that's awful." Those blue eyes are so sympathetic. "Let's take you to headquarters, hm? Get you introduced to everyone. Hopefully you'll make some more friends and maybe-" she smiles a sly smile "-get a love life. Sounds good?"
He stands up, grabbing your duffel bag and backpack. "Sounds great."
Jay follows her to her blue sedan. Getting in, he almost catches a sight of something silver, but it's gone before he guesses what it is, and he passes it off as the reflection of the moon or something.
She drives for a while before stopping at a forest. "We take a trail here," she says, opening the door and climbing out.
They start down the trail in silence. *It's weird how she's so quiet, when at home she was so chatty. But hey! Maybe she's nervous? Anyway, it's a nice silence. Not awkward.*
Halfway through, she stops. "I can't take this longer," she says, and slides her arms around his neck and kisses him.
He's stunned, but responds eagerly. Her lips are soft and she tastes like peaches. Somewhere along the way, he feels something cool and vaguely metal pressing against his heart, but dismisses it.
She pulls back slightly. She whispers, "You should have stuck with the money," and drives the knife into his heart. | |
[WP] You exit the mall, having just finished a shopping spree. You locate your car, but see that it has been crushed from above. Whatever crushed it is now gone. Luckily, you find a note: “I’m sorry that my time machine landed on your car. My agency will pay for repairs. Just call this number!” | "Yeah! As if I don't know what you two love birds had in mind"
"Only you have that dirty mind you know. Whatever you are thinking...", she paused to emphasize, "**NOT HAPPENING**"
"Ahan!"
"I got the beer. Do you guys want something to eat? I am almost on my way out though"
"Beer is just fine. I don't want my younger brother to get too drunk and embarrass me in front of my fiance"
"Hey! the mustache thing was really funny. You know! memories", there was a smirk on Peter's face as he recalled pulling that prank.
"Drive safe and come over ok", Rachel was trying to avoid laughing but faking a somber tone.
"Cheers to the weekend. We are gonna....."
"No! No! No!"
"Peter? Is everything ok?"
"What? ... I will call you later sis... I am fine will fill you in", he cut the call but rather than disappointment, his face showed amusement and confusion.
"This has got to be a prank! Any moment the camera guy is gonna come out!
"Come out you guys! "
He started to check what had gotten broken!
"Jeez What did you guys use, an elephant to crush it?"
The car was, well it definitely was not in a state to be driven. One could drive it though but would definitely attract the attention of any cop.
The front of the car looked as new as one could imagine, it in fact looked fresh out of the industry. The rear of the car however looked, huh, for loss of words it looked as if it was to be sent to the junkyard.
"A note!", Peter took the note from the wiper, “I’m sorry that my time machine landed on your car. My agency will pay for the repairs. Just call this number!”
"Ok! now this is too much guys!
***"Fingerprint identified. Genetic code match found, tracing timeline."***
"What the f\*\*\*? Peter let go of the piece of paper.
***"Year 2021! Critical event Delta wave of the pandemic... Phone number traced. Establishing temporal connection across timeline, the source year 2187, charges as applicable across timeline"***
"That is enough guys stop it alright. I get it, it's a prank!"
Bzzzz... Bzzzz...
Peter shivered as he felt his phone vibrate
"Mr. Peter Kreyzig I presume.", the temporal voice assistant AI said.
His hands were now shivering. If this was a prank it was too elaborate and he was on the verge of losing his temper but a thought just kept upsetting his annoyance, "What if it is true?"
"Hu... Hello?"
"Mr. Peter Kreyzig I presume.", the temporal voice assistant AI said.
**She** carried this eerily human voice but had a cosmic metallic hint to her tone making her sound not so human after all.
"I can understand your concern. At 12:04 EST one of our military pod was temporarily pushed from its temporal position. I assure you this is an exception and the loss incurred will be covered under Insurance"
"Did Rachel put you up to this?"
"I swear she is going to hear from me for this. **NOT FUNNY! Helloooooo! NOT FUNNY I repeat**"
"I am ***TSL-2182-NE-SLV4***, you can call me Silvy. I have no such preference as such Mr. Peter. Your state of panic is understandable and should be temporary. No wait, you are from the pandemic ear right?"
Peter was furious and grinding his teeth said, "Yes! so what?"
"I am sorry to say this Peter but our firm does not erase the memory or any events in a timeline leading to a cataclysmic event"
"Cata.. what? What are you even saying"
"Mr. Peter, the voice blared sounding more robotic than human. **This is real**. We are really sorry to have involved you with a temporal anomaly but as compensation, we can help you get back to the event prior to your car being in the state it is but we cannot proceed to erase or fix the issue caused here. I would suggest you park your car elsewhere once you...."
"Wait... back up a little... What cataclysmic event are you talking about. Is it something like the world ending or some shit like that?"
"I am sorry Peter I don't have authorization to tell you this!"
"Ain't you a piece of work. Tell your boss or who has authorization, that I am not moving through any temporal shit or as a matter of fact moving through anything until I get my answers. I am in fact going to go to the police and you are going to have to pay for this prank."
"He tried cutting the call, but couldn't!"
"Peter, I am sorry we have caused you so much concern. I will now connect you with our supervisor. Please beware that interacting with family can cause temporal anomaly and require memory deletion. This might cause mild nausea and eye irritation for a day!
"Assigning to Executive E79... establishing a temporal connection to the year 2079"
"Wait what do you mean family?"
"Hey Peter," said a hoarse voice.
The sound of a metallic ping followed
Peter looked at his phone. It was a video feed request. He accepted.
"Peter! Listen to me carefully, you need to get through the temporal lobe and wait for me on the other end. This is the only way to clear the timeline without hurting you!
"Wait! Rachel is that you?"
\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------
End of Part 1
Author Note:
Would love tons of feedback. I want to continue further would like to hear from you guys first. :)
Hope it is not as shit as I presume it to be :P | Jay punches in the number on your phone, feeling bewildered all throughout. Is this really happening? Was he really calling a time travel agency?
Well, whoever is on the phone picks up. No time to panic.
"Hello?" goes a female voice.
"Yeah, hey," he says. "Um, I came back from tennis to find my-"
"Car *crashed*," she finishes, then sighs. "I'm Avie, by the way. Short for Avagail. Sorry about the whole car and stuff, trial runs can be a bitch. Um, if you give us your name we'll wire then ecessary money to your account, plus a bonus if you keep quiet about this. We're not doing anything illegal or evil, we're just trying to get these damn time travel machines to work."
*She has a nice voice*, he thinks. It was clear and sweet, like flower perfumed spring air.
"I don't want money," he says. "I want to work for you."
There's a silence on the other end.
"Hello?" he asks.
"Uh, yeah, I'm here. It's just- this isn't exactly protocal. I have to ask my supervisors."
She goes off the phone, and he can hear her talking to someone, their gender made unknown by distance. Then she comes back. "Give us your address, and we'll pick you up in an hour."
"Sure," he says.
He goes home, starts packing. It's lucky he has few friends and possessions, and no family members. An orphan through and through. At six sharp, there's a knock on the door. Jay opens it to see a very beautiful woman in a short red dress. She slides her golden blonde ponytail of her shoulder and grins at him through emerald eyes.
"Hi, Jay" she says, and he recognizes her voice.
"Hey, Avie," he reply, and invite her in.
She sits down on the couch, makes herself comfortable. He bring in some lemonade and chocolatte cookies. She takes a cookie and nibbles on it.
"So, you have a girlfriend? Family members?" she asks casually.
"Nope. My first girlfriend died, and, well, I've just not been able to move on. I moved away from my friends, my homeland. Never had any parents or anything."
"Oh, that's awful." Those blue eyes are so sympathetic. "Let's take you to headquarters, hm? Get you introduced to everyone. Hopefully you'll make some more friends and maybe-" she smiles a sly smile "-get a love life. Sounds good?"
He stands up, grabbing your duffel bag and backpack. "Sounds great."
Jay follows her to her blue sedan. Getting in, he almost catches a sight of something silver, but it's gone before he guesses what it is, and he passes it off as the reflection of the moon or something.
She drives for a while before stopping at a forest. "We take a trail here," she says, opening the door and climbing out.
They start down the trail in silence. *It's weird how she's so quiet, when at home she was so chatty. But hey! Maybe she's nervous? Anyway, it's a nice silence. Not awkward.*
Halfway through, she stops. "I can't take this longer," she says, and slides her arms around his neck and kisses him.
He's stunned, but responds eagerly. Her lips are soft and she tastes like peaches. Somewhere along the way, he feels something cool and vaguely metal pressing against his heart, but dismisses it.
She pulls back slightly. She whispers, "You should have stuck with the money," and drives the knife into his heart. |
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