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[WP] Your spouse was actually an amnesiac god that had both their powers and memories sealed away years ago. Now the seal is broken and they have regained their godhood. They're curious why you're not as happy as they are about this. | I met her on a rainy day, and like in those old romantic movies, she was drenched and unmoving. I thought she lost someone really close to her, but it turns out she lost someone more important - herself.
The despair I held for so long was cleared even with just that distant yet warm look in her eyes. For a long time, I thought I would simply stay the same way, but ever since that day, a spark of flame rose from within my heart.
Her smile continued to heal my heart as days and months passed, and while her memories never came back, we made new ones in return.
With each embrace, the ember grew, and with this stronger flame I felt her own empowered. And soon enough, years had passed, and her demeanor became ever more lovely.
I thought it was a simple result from the love we cumulated over the past decade. Her beauty never faded, not even a wrinkle shown. And in her embrace, that became ever more comfortable, I really thought it was simply love.
Then she confessed.
Her memories had slowly returned, and this was the day I learned that she was a goddess. In fact, she was the goddess of hope. She told me a story unbelievable to a simple man like me, where she was from, and how she ended up losing her memories and most of her power.
But all of that slipped my mind because of the one thing I never wanted to hear again - that she had to leave.
-
"I have to return and bring warmth to everyone again. You know this, my love, you've felt it."
I did feel it, but to leave me just for that.
"Your nature is good, my love. I know that look in your eyes and you want to be selfish, but I know who you truly are. You are the strongest human I know. Especially when you survived that- "
"No."
I didn't want to hear it again, to remember it again.
"But, my love- "
"Are you really so sure that gods are even needed anymore? The world hadn't changed so much even when you were gone."
She looked at me with those eyes again. Just like earlier when she talked about the reason for her returning.
"The Creator God had decreed it so. I am to return even if the ember of hope was not extinguished all these years. I still have to keep it safe, I have to keep its embers ignited for all of humanity."
-
It was unfair and I continued to reason with her, and finally even argued for the first time, my eyes were aflame yet she still had that look of sadness.
But she still had to leave, and she did. Exhausted from talking the entire day, I told her to give me a day, and she acquiesced. We slept together that night, and I thought to once more reason with her once I woke up. But as if she knew I would do that, she disappeared the next day.
She left me a note asking for forgiveness, and I left the note stained with tears right where she left it.
The day she left I secluded myself in my home, our home. But it was a bad idea to do that. Every corner, every room, I saw her image. Memories of her had kept me imprisoned, slowly spiraling into despair.
-
"Hello, old friend."
I talked to the mirror in front of me.
"You seem so much older than before. Have you gone and, heh, hoped again?"
He scoffed at the word hope, as if to mock me.
"Have I gone insane?"
I was talking to a mirror, surely this was just a nightmare. Surely. Because the image on the mirror was no longer me, it was a warped version of me.
"You are not insane, dear friend. Not in the least. You are simply above all. You always were."
His last words struck me, memories I buried returned to me as I grasped my head. Not even a second passed and I recovered, but not to the me she knew.
"I see."
Tears fell from my eyes as blood dripped from my nose and ears. Memories flooded my mind, of a time long ago, of a world much different from today. A world that I will endeavor to remake.
"This time, my goddess, this time you will stay forever."
After all, what hope will there be for her to protect if even the heavens fall to despair? | (It's been forever since I've written anything and I'm on mobile so I apologize if it's clunky or there's typos)
There's a blinding flash and a warm light surrounds my husband, filling our apartment with an intense glow. I stumble, clenching my eyes shut as the light seems to get brighter, nearly blinding me. It seems to last forever before I feel a gentle hand on my face.
"Love?" His voice was as gentle as it always was, but now it seemed like there was something more behind it. "You can open your eyes."
I open my eyes cautiously and the first thing I see is my husband's face a few inches from mine. His blue eyes seem to sparkle with excitement as he looks at me.
He presses a kiss to my forehead, the touch leaving a slight tingling sensation on my skin. "You don't know how good this is my love!" He laughed, "I remember everything!"
I pull back slightly, looking at him with confusion. "Remember what exactly?" In all our time of knowing each other he's never mentioned anything about any sort of memory gaps or anything of that sort.
"My real life. Who I really am. Isn't that great?!" He says it with such excitement that I try to keep a neutral expression on my face but on the inside I feel my heart shatter. What could he mean by that? What other real life could he have? We've known each other since we were children, what could be more real than that?
Against my best effort I feel tears slipping down my face. He notices and is immediately holding me close. "Oh love, it's nothing like that, our time together has been beautiful. I've treasured every moment with you. And I will treasure every moment to come. But this is only a tiny fracture of my life. I have more than just our time. Much more in fact. So you don't need to cry."
"You're making no sense," I mumble, my breath caught in my throat.
He smiles softly, wiping the tears from my face. "I guess I'm not. I'm just excited about this. But, you're not? And I'm not sure why?"
"You're not sure why?" My voice quivered, "maybe it's because you're making no sense? What do you mean by real life? You're talking like this was all a lie."
"Not a lie, but a half truth. I did live this life with you. I fell in love with you and continue to fall in love with you more every day. I swear. I've never loved a mortal like you." He looks away from me, not speaking for a few minutes. "But I have lived before this. A different life, a different name. I had power greater than a mortal could comprehend. I was worshiped by thousands. It was perfect." He paused. "Or at least I thought it was. And then I met you. And now I know what perfection is." He looks at me, his smile growing. "And you can come back with me. And you and I can have eternity together."
I don't return his smile and his face falls. I'm too stunned to speak, to fully process what he's saying.
"I thought you'd be happy about this Michael. This is good! Great even!! Why don't you understand?"
"I-I don't know. This…you…it's all too much. I need time to process."
He looked upset, but nodded. "I see. I can give you time. Call my name when you've decided and I will return."
Before I could protest, tell him that I didnt want him to go, that I had questions, he kissed me then vanished, leaving a single blue rose in his place. | |
[WP] Your spouse was actually an amnesiac god that had both their powers and memories sealed away years ago. Now the seal is broken and they have regained their godhood. They're curious why you're not as happy as they are about this. | Please be gentle, this is my first time posting and english isn´t my first language. Here goes:
Well... Fuck.
I mean, I was waiting for it all to come crashing down on me. But I figured it would be a bit more mundane in nature?
You know, them seeing how they could do so much better than lil´ ol´ me over here or me making some stupid goddamn mistake I couldn´t fix. But I sure didn´t have "Your beloved partner of ten years bursts into flame and ascends into heaven while going for a stroll" on my Bingo-Card.
And so I stood there, for God -Oh damn, is that them now?- knows how long, completely blindsided by what had just transpired. When I came back to myself, I turned around and made my way back home. Our home. Just my home now, I guess.
Back there, I sat down on the bed and just... took my head into my hands and started crying. I mean, what else do you do in a situation like this?
And then, all of a sudden, the sun rose. In the middle of our/my bedroom.
"Hey."
I kept looking at the ground. I didn´t think i could look at them anyway, no matter that i probably would have burnt my eyes out if i did.
"I´m really sorry, that was... a surprise. I tried coming back as soon as possible."
"Yeah, well, congrats. I guess you came by to say your farewells?"
"Wait, wha... Oh, damnit this light is annoying the fuck out of me. Give me a second."
The light dimmed.
I raised my head and looked at them. I don´t know what i expected, honestly. Not that they were still the same. Still the same face, with the smile on it that made me fall in love years ago. Wrinkles around the eyes from all the times we almsot died from laughter when one of us did something goofy.
"I mean, what else would you be here for? I appreciate it, honestly. Didn´t expect to see you again."
"What the fuck are you talking about?" They raised their hand. The small ring glittered softly. "We made a promise, you moron. Do you not want to keep it?"
"Oh, come on. How am i supposed to? You´re... Whatever you are now. A god, angel, otherworldly being... And me? I´m nothing. I didn´t deserve you before, I sure don´t deserve you now!"
"Stop it! I´m not having this talk with you AGAIN. I. CHOSE. YOU. You do not get to make this decision for me. And this." They gestured at themselves. "This does not change a thing. I still love you. I still choose you. Do you still do the same?"
"I... Yes. You know I do."
"Good, so stand up. I´ve got so much to show you. And when we´re done, I have a gift for you."
They offered me a hand. | (It's been forever since I've written anything and I'm on mobile so I apologize if it's clunky or there's typos)
There's a blinding flash and a warm light surrounds my husband, filling our apartment with an intense glow. I stumble, clenching my eyes shut as the light seems to get brighter, nearly blinding me. It seems to last forever before I feel a gentle hand on my face.
"Love?" His voice was as gentle as it always was, but now it seemed like there was something more behind it. "You can open your eyes."
I open my eyes cautiously and the first thing I see is my husband's face a few inches from mine. His blue eyes seem to sparkle with excitement as he looks at me.
He presses a kiss to my forehead, the touch leaving a slight tingling sensation on my skin. "You don't know how good this is my love!" He laughed, "I remember everything!"
I pull back slightly, looking at him with confusion. "Remember what exactly?" In all our time of knowing each other he's never mentioned anything about any sort of memory gaps or anything of that sort.
"My real life. Who I really am. Isn't that great?!" He says it with such excitement that I try to keep a neutral expression on my face but on the inside I feel my heart shatter. What could he mean by that? What other real life could he have? We've known each other since we were children, what could be more real than that?
Against my best effort I feel tears slipping down my face. He notices and is immediately holding me close. "Oh love, it's nothing like that, our time together has been beautiful. I've treasured every moment with you. And I will treasure every moment to come. But this is only a tiny fracture of my life. I have more than just our time. Much more in fact. So you don't need to cry."
"You're making no sense," I mumble, my breath caught in my throat.
He smiles softly, wiping the tears from my face. "I guess I'm not. I'm just excited about this. But, you're not? And I'm not sure why?"
"You're not sure why?" My voice quivered, "maybe it's because you're making no sense? What do you mean by real life? You're talking like this was all a lie."
"Not a lie, but a half truth. I did live this life with you. I fell in love with you and continue to fall in love with you more every day. I swear. I've never loved a mortal like you." He looks away from me, not speaking for a few minutes. "But I have lived before this. A different life, a different name. I had power greater than a mortal could comprehend. I was worshiped by thousands. It was perfect." He paused. "Or at least I thought it was. And then I met you. And now I know what perfection is." He looks at me, his smile growing. "And you can come back with me. And you and I can have eternity together."
I don't return his smile and his face falls. I'm too stunned to speak, to fully process what he's saying.
"I thought you'd be happy about this Michael. This is good! Great even!! Why don't you understand?"
"I-I don't know. This…you…it's all too much. I need time to process."
He looked upset, but nodded. "I see. I can give you time. Call my name when you've decided and I will return."
Before I could protest, tell him that I didnt want him to go, that I had questions, he kissed me then vanished, leaving a single blue rose in his place. | |
[WP] Your spouse was actually an amnesiac god that had both their powers and memories sealed away years ago. Now the seal is broken and they have regained their godhood. They're curious why you're not as happy as they are about this. | “Wait, so you’re… a literal god? Why didn’t you ever tell me!!!?”
“I uhhhh, thought I lost all my powers, and memories until just now. I think… I have to go back to my duties… don’t worry, I don’t have to work a lot, we can keep our old life mostly unchanged!”
“I don’t get it… what are your… duties? Oh god, are you like a god of death? Do you kill people?”
“Wow that’s where you immediately go? No eww, I uhhh… I’m an amnesiac god, I take memories from people. Haven’t you realized that old trope of people being in car crashes and losing their memories hasn’t happened in a long time?”
“What… oh, so… you only need to do this once in a while? Like a part time job? You just… go take someone’s memories and come back?”
“Exactly! We’ll always be the loving way we always were! I love you and we won’t have to change anything!”
“I love you too! But… why’s the living room trashed? It’s almost like we were having a massive fight or something!”
“Oh uhhh that must have been my powers coming back and causing this huge mess, I guess that gave you quite a shock! Did you bump your head? Don’t you remember how we were just snuggling and watching tv on the couch? We were definitely not having a massive fight… stop thinking too much!!! Go sleep for the night, I’ll be back in the morning after my duties, I’m sure you’ll only be thinking about the good memories when you wake up!” | "I- well-" I stammered, looking for the right words. She cocks her head slightly. "Well . . . I'm worried you'll leave now . . . " I said, quietly.
"Oh, my darling star," she said, stepping forward to embrace me. "Darling, I could never leave you. Not for anyone, or anything. I doubt I'll ever love again after you-"
Siobhan (Shi-von) pauses, a strange look on her face. "Von?" I proded.
"That's it," she whispered.
"Huh?"
"That's it!!" She takes my hands and spins, laughing as her firey red hair flies around her, trailing sparks.
I laugh too. "What? Love, what is going on?"
"Oh, Orion, I've been thinking about this ever since I've regained my memory! What I'll do after you! Oh, I've got it!!" She laughs, a sound of pure joy. "I'll make you a god!!"
"What?! Love, that's not possible!"
"Improbable, not impossible. There is a way. Then we'll never have to be apart, no matter what happens."
"But- but-"
"But what?" She graspes my hands in hers. "Orion, you're afraid of losing me, and I'm terrified of losing you. This will solve both problems!"
"It's not that, love," I assured her.
"Then what?"
"I don't know the first thing about being a god! I-is that even allowed?"
She bit her lip. "I'm not entirely sure. But I refuse to be parted with you. I've never had love like this. Not with anyone."
I swept her into a hug. She laid her head on my shoulder. "I don't care if I'm forsaken by my kin. This . . . " She tilted her head to look at me with her emerald eyes, laying a hand on my cheek. " . . . This is too precious to lose. If you should die . . . There will be nothing left for me."
" . . . Then let's do it."
"Really?"
"Yeah," I said. "I'll be the god of . . . I don’t know, accounting."
Siobhan laughed, a sound like music. "No," she said. "The god of stars, more like. I don't think there's one who fills that position in my pantheon."
I laughed, drawing her close. "Stars it is," I murmured against her ruby lips. | |
[WP] Your spouse was actually an amnesiac god that had both their powers and memories sealed away years ago. Now the seal is broken and they have regained their godhood. They're curious why you're not as happy as they are about this. | This changes nothing
That's what I kept trying to tell myself at least. It's the first thing my wife told me a month ago when she had made her discovery; that she was more than a mere human.
For the past month, I clung to those words like a drowning man to a life boat in the middle of a typhoon.
For the past month, I wanted so desperately for those words to be true; that despite what she discovered, nothing would change between us.
However, no matter how hard I clung to my love's reassuring words with a desperate fervor, part of me knew better.
True, my wife did do her best to try and live life like she always had when she had believed herself to be human.
But how long could this really last? A decade? A year? Another month? Another week? Another day? Try as I may to deny it, I knew that one day she would grow tired of playing the role of being a mere human's wife and when that day comes...
I'll be alone.
I can't say I would blame her though. With all the power she has at her disposal, she could probably solve world hunger or end all war on earth. She could probably even solve climate change.
She definitely shouldn't be playing house with some average human she had eloped with when we were 16.
And yet, even as I thought about what she should be doing. A selfish part of me wanted nothing more than to keep her all to myself, the rest of the world be damned.
Was it selfish? Definitely. Did I care? Not one bit.
What did the world ever do for me anyway? What has humanity ever done for me that I should let go of the one person who has ever shown me true unconditional love for their sake.
Absolutely nothing.
Let them call me selfish, let them call me a villain for keeping them from salvation. I couldn't care less what they think of me.
She is the only one who matters to me, the one who ever mattered to me. If keeping her to myself means this world will keep on burning, then I say let it.
But what if she wants to leave? What if she wants to save them? Could I even do anything to stop her?
No, I couldn't. I was a mere human and she was a goddess. If she really wanted to leave, nothing I do could stop her.
Even now, such a fact does not fail to bring tears to my eyes as my chest constricts painfully and I sink down to my knees in despair.
I didn't know how long I was bawling my eyes out on the kitchen floor but the next thing I know something wraps around my midsection and pulls me into the air making me yelp in surprise.
Not a second later, I am brought face to face with my wife of two years.
She was not amused.
Hurriedly, I tried to cover my face with my hands to hide the fact that I had been crying, only to find that they were bound to my sides as my wife's long silvery white prehensile hair kept me suspended in the air by my midsection.
I look away from my wife to hide my face as I tried to compose myself.
Not even a second later, my wife's firm yet gentle fingers caressed my chin and turned my tear-streaken face towards her.
Her amber eyes were filled with concern as she saw my face.
Her other hand came up to my face as she carressed my face lovingly.
"It's been a month now, Love" she said in a soft whispered voice. "This is the 15th time this happened"
That was a shock. I had always been careful to only let the dam burst when I was sure I was alone.
I should've known better than to think I could hide anything from her.
Even before she discovered her true nature, she had an uncanny way of knowing when I was upset.
She leaned forward and placed a chaste kiss on my lips as her fingers wiped away my tears.
"Please, Love, tell me what's wrong"
My heart clenched painfully in my chest, both at the pet name and the concern in her voice.
Even so I remained silent, fear and dread had my throat in a vice grip strangling any words that I tried to let out.
"Is it my new form, Love? Does it bother you? What I look like now that is?" She asked sadly.
Unable to form words, I shake my head desperately at her.
I did not now nor did I ever want her to feel that how she looked like was a problem and that I couldn't love her because of it.
She definitely looked different now, there was no denying that.
Her hair had become longer than she was tall, turning a silver white color and becoming prehensile.
Her eyes had become a glowing amber color.
A glowing purple orb started floating in front of her forehead.
Two lavender colored cloudy wisps formed vague horns on her head.
Parts of her milky white skin, mainly her forearm, thighs and legs, was now covered in a lavender colored skin-like film, which gave her fingers needle-like tips and her feet sharp claw-like toes.
I had asked her about it once and she had told me it was a form of skin armor that protected her body, which is also why she had foregone wearing clothes at home.
They just weren't necessary she said.
At least her armor still covered her important parts.
But even with this radical new change in my wife's body, never once had I stopped loving her.
New form or not, she was still the one I loved.
She allowed herself a sigh in relief at the shake of my head before turned to me again with the same concern as before.
"If it's not the way I look now, then what is bothering you"
Again, fear and dread strangled my throat to keep my words in as if merely saying my deepest fears would make them come true.
I stayed silent, hoping she would let it go and I could go back to pretending like nothing happened.
She wasn't having it.
Not letting my face go, her face morphed into a gentle expression as she slowly started levitating off the kitchen floor and up to our shared bedroom, my body still firmly wrapped up in her prehensile hair.
Softly, she laid me down on our small bed, her prehensile hair keeping me in place, before she quietly laid down next to me.
She leaned in close to me until she had her body pressed up against mine, She propped her elbow up on the pillow to look at me while her other hand carressed my face and wiped away stray tears.
"Take as much time as you need, Love" she smiled gently. "When you're ready to talk, I'll be right here"
There really would be no avoiding it then.
I opted to stay silent and leaned into her warmth, trying desperately to hang onto what little barrowed time I had left.
For her part, my wife was very patient with me; alternating between caressing my face, running her fingers through my hair and planting chaste kisses on my lips.
Why couldn't we stay like this forever? Why did she have to find out that she was a goddess? She was the only good thing that ever happened to me, why did she have to go?
These thoughts brought on a fresh wave of tears as I closed my eyes, ones that were quickly kissed away by my wife as she pulled me closer to her in response.
She was getting anxious, I could tell. You don't spend majority of your childhood together and not learn to pick up on each other's subtle tells.
She deserved better than this. To always be worrying about a fragile human's mental wellbeing, she could do so much more. She was born to be more.
Taking a deep breath, I forced the words out through my congealing throat.
"I'm afraid of losing you"
As close as she was to me, my wife heard my words, whispered as they were.
"You're not going to lose me"
"I might"
"How so?"
I took another deep breath and closed my eyes, unable to meet her gaze.
"You're a goddess. You're so much more powerful, more beautiful, more intelligent; you're so much more than I could ever be"
I was hiccuping and sniffling now as I continued to force the words out. Deep breaths. No matter what, she deserved to know the truth.
"And no matter how hard I try to deny it, part of me knows that you could do so much more for the rest of humanity if you weren't stuck with me. That you could probably turn this world into a paradise if I wasn't holding you back. And I'm afraid that one day, you'll realise that; that one day I'm gonna wake up and you're not there anymore."
I was crying my eyes out again tears flowing down my cheeks like waterfalls and my congealed throat reducing my breaths to hiccuping sniffles.
It was out there now at least, she had her answer.
She hadn't said a thing since I started talking and I did not dare open my eyes to look at her either.
The silence stretched on and her hand had stopped.
As the silence continued to last, part of me started to hope that maybe just maybe she had realized all of this and simply chose to stay with me; that even her new abilities I would always be more important to her than the rest of-
"You're right" | "I- well-" I stammered, looking for the right words. She cocks her head slightly. "Well . . . I'm worried you'll leave now . . . " I said, quietly.
"Oh, my darling star," she said, stepping forward to embrace me. "Darling, I could never leave you. Not for anyone, or anything. I doubt I'll ever love again after you-"
Siobhan (Shi-von) pauses, a strange look on her face. "Von?" I proded.
"That's it," she whispered.
"Huh?"
"That's it!!" She takes my hands and spins, laughing as her firey red hair flies around her, trailing sparks.
I laugh too. "What? Love, what is going on?"
"Oh, Orion, I've been thinking about this ever since I've regained my memory! What I'll do after you! Oh, I've got it!!" She laughs, a sound of pure joy. "I'll make you a god!!"
"What?! Love, that's not possible!"
"Improbable, not impossible. There is a way. Then we'll never have to be apart, no matter what happens."
"But- but-"
"But what?" She graspes my hands in hers. "Orion, you're afraid of losing me, and I'm terrified of losing you. This will solve both problems!"
"It's not that, love," I assured her.
"Then what?"
"I don't know the first thing about being a god! I-is that even allowed?"
She bit her lip. "I'm not entirely sure. But I refuse to be parted with you. I've never had love like this. Not with anyone."
I swept her into a hug. She laid her head on my shoulder. "I don't care if I'm forsaken by my kin. This . . . " She tilted her head to look at me with her emerald eyes, laying a hand on my cheek. " . . . This is too precious to lose. If you should die . . . There will be nothing left for me."
" . . . Then let's do it."
"Really?"
"Yeah," I said. "I'll be the god of . . . I don’t know, accounting."
Siobhan laughed, a sound like music. "No," she said. "The god of stars, more like. I don't think there's one who fills that position in my pantheon."
I laughed, drawing her close. "Stars it is," I murmured against her ruby lips. | |
[WP] Your spouse was actually an amnesiac god that had both their powers and memories sealed away years ago. Now the seal is broken and they have regained their godhood. They're curious why you're not as happy as they are about this. | This changes nothing
That's what I kept trying to tell myself at least. It's the first thing my wife told me a month ago when she had made her discovery; that she was more than a mere human.
For the past month, I clung to those words like a drowning man to a life boat in the middle of a typhoon.
For the past month, I wanted so desperately for those words to be true; that despite what she discovered, nothing would change between us.
However, no matter how hard I clung to my love's reassuring words with a desperate fervor, part of me knew better.
True, my wife did do her best to try and live life like she always had when she had believed herself to be human.
But how long could this really last? A decade? A year? Another month? Another week? Another day? Try as I may to deny it, I knew that one day she would grow tired of playing the role of being a mere human's wife and when that day comes...
I'll be alone.
I can't say I would blame her though. With all the power she has at her disposal, she could probably solve world hunger or end all war on earth. She could probably even solve climate change.
She definitely shouldn't be playing house with some average human she had eloped with when we were 16.
And yet, even as I thought about what she should be doing. A selfish part of me wanted nothing more than to keep her all to myself, the rest of the world be damned.
Was it selfish? Definitely. Did I care? Not one bit.
What did the world ever do for me anyway? What has humanity ever done for me that I should let go of the one person who has ever shown me true unconditional love for their sake.
Absolutely nothing.
Let them call me selfish, let them call me a villain for keeping them from salvation. I couldn't care less what they think of me.
She is the only one who matters to me, the one who ever mattered to me. If keeping her to myself means this world will keep on burning, then I say let it.
But what if she wants to leave? What if she wants to save them? Could I even do anything to stop her?
No, I couldn't. I was a mere human and she was a goddess. If she really wanted to leave, nothing I do could stop her.
Even now, such a fact does not fail to bring tears to my eyes as my chest constricts painfully and I sink down to my knees in despair.
I didn't know how long I was bawling my eyes out on the kitchen floor but the next thing I know something wraps around my midsection and pulls me into the air making me yelp in surprise.
Not a second later, I am brought face to face with my wife of two years.
She was not amused.
Hurriedly, I tried to cover my face with my hands to hide the fact that I had been crying, only to find that they were bound to my sides as my wife's long silvery white prehensile hair kept me suspended in the air by my midsection.
I look away from my wife to hide my face as I tried to compose myself.
Not even a second later, my wife's firm yet gentle fingers caressed my chin and turned my tear-streaken face towards her.
Her amber eyes were filled with concern as she saw my face.
Her other hand came up to my face as she carressed my face lovingly.
"It's been a month now, Love" she said in a soft whispered voice. "This is the 15th time this happened"
That was a shock. I had always been careful to only let the dam burst when I was sure I was alone.
I should've known better than to think I could hide anything from her.
Even before she discovered her true nature, she had an uncanny way of knowing when I was upset.
She leaned forward and placed a chaste kiss on my lips as her fingers wiped away my tears.
"Please, Love, tell me what's wrong"
My heart clenched painfully in my chest, both at the pet name and the concern in her voice.
Even so I remained silent, fear and dread had my throat in a vice grip strangling any words that I tried to let out.
"Is it my new form, Love? Does it bother you? What I look like now that is?" She asked sadly.
Unable to form words, I shake my head desperately at her.
I did not now nor did I ever want her to feel that how she looked like was a problem and that I couldn't love her because of it.
She definitely looked different now, there was no denying that.
Her hair had become longer than she was tall, turning a silver white color and becoming prehensile.
Her eyes had become a glowing amber color.
A glowing purple orb started floating in front of her forehead.
Two lavender colored cloudy wisps formed vague horns on her head.
Parts of her milky white skin, mainly her forearm, thighs and legs, was now covered in a lavender colored skin-like film, which gave her fingers needle-like tips and her feet sharp claw-like toes.
I had asked her about it once and she had told me it was a form of skin armor that protected her body, which is also why she had foregone wearing clothes at home.
They just weren't necessary she said.
At least her armor still covered her important parts.
But even with this radical new change in my wife's body, never once had I stopped loving her.
New form or not, she was still the one I loved.
She allowed herself a sigh in relief at the shake of my head before turned to me again with the same concern as before.
"If it's not the way I look now, then what is bothering you"
Again, fear and dread strangled my throat to keep my words in as if merely saying my deepest fears would make them come true.
I stayed silent, hoping she would let it go and I could go back to pretending like nothing happened.
She wasn't having it.
Not letting my face go, her face morphed into a gentle expression as she slowly started levitating off the kitchen floor and up to our shared bedroom, my body still firmly wrapped up in her prehensile hair.
Softly, she laid me down on our small bed, her prehensile hair keeping me in place, before she quietly laid down next to me.
She leaned in close to me until she had her body pressed up against mine, She propped her elbow up on the pillow to look at me while her other hand carressed my face and wiped away stray tears.
"Take as much time as you need, Love" she smiled gently. "When you're ready to talk, I'll be right here"
There really would be no avoiding it then.
I opted to stay silent and leaned into her warmth, trying desperately to hang onto what little barrowed time I had left.
For her part, my wife was very patient with me; alternating between caressing my face, running her fingers through my hair and planting chaste kisses on my lips.
Why couldn't we stay like this forever? Why did she have to find out that she was a goddess? She was the only good thing that ever happened to me, why did she have to go?
These thoughts brought on a fresh wave of tears as I closed my eyes, ones that were quickly kissed away by my wife as she pulled me closer to her in response.
She was getting anxious, I could tell. You don't spend majority of your childhood together and not learn to pick up on each other's subtle tells.
She deserved better than this. To always be worrying about a fragile human's mental wellbeing, she could do so much more. She was born to be more.
Taking a deep breath, I forced the words out through my congealing throat.
"I'm afraid of losing you"
As close as she was to me, my wife heard my words, whispered as they were.
"You're not going to lose me"
"I might"
"How so?"
I took another deep breath and closed my eyes, unable to meet her gaze.
"You're a goddess. You're so much more powerful, more beautiful, more intelligent; you're so much more than I could ever be"
I was hiccuping and sniffling now as I continued to force the words out. Deep breaths. No matter what, she deserved to know the truth.
"And no matter how hard I try to deny it, part of me knows that you could do so much more for the rest of humanity if you weren't stuck with me. That you could probably turn this world into a paradise if I wasn't holding you back. And I'm afraid that one day, you'll realise that; that one day I'm gonna wake up and you're not there anymore."
I was crying my eyes out again tears flowing down my cheeks like waterfalls and my congealed throat reducing my breaths to hiccuping sniffles.
It was out there now at least, she had her answer.
She hadn't said a thing since I started talking and I did not dare open my eyes to look at her either.
The silence stretched on and her hand had stopped.
As the silence continued to last, part of me started to hope that maybe just maybe she had realized all of this and simply chose to stay with me; that even her new abilities I would always be more important to her than the rest of-
"You're right" | It was boring day at work, just like every other day. Humans and their menial tasks, I will never understand what drives them to sit in an office building all day. If I wasn't undercover myself i would be right up there with Jesus and Odin as they have their arm wrestling tournament every milenia.
Time moves differently on Earth than it does in the Overworld. I can't even remember how long I've been here since the other gods decided I had to watch over the destroyer of worlds. She had her power and memory sealed away eons ago, yet here I am, babysitting the human incarnation of Shiva. Although its a pain finding her everytime she dies and reincarnates so soon, it's become a sort of game I play now. All this changed however, when Shiva began to study gods and the abilities they hold.
Overtime the seal has weakened and she slowly started to regain abilities, slowly started to remember her past lives. Today was the day, today the seal became undone, today my "wife" figured out her true identity. I came home ready to seal her once more, ready to bury all emotion I have ever felt towards her. I'll always remember how beautiful she was in every form she took. Arriving at the door step with a heavy heart, I enter the suburban home I had owned and passed down to myself over generations in order to hide my identity. Gazing upon her soft blushing face, I could tell something was off about Shiva. Something was missing from the heart that once brought so much destruction. While hesistant, still holding on to the love that I have, I asked the question.
"Are you aware now?"
"For once, everything makes sense, everything feels-", Shiva began, unable to find the words for her new found outlook on life and her previous actions.
"Peaceful?", I asked, hoping I was right in hesistating. Hoping that I wouldn't have to say goodbye to her once more.
"Yes, there still thoughts of purification that linger however, that was the old me.", she said this as if she turned a new leaf, like all the pain she had caused had simply gone away.
"The old you huh, what exactly do you mean?"
She stared out of the window, watching the leaves fall from the now barren birch tree, "Living so many lives has humbled me, seeing what could be and what is... It changed me, I now know the pain I have caused, I've experienced what I created"
"You mean to tell me that you, Shiva The Destroyer, are humbled and now changed?", even zeus would strach his chin in disbelief at what I just heard.
"Is it so hard to believe? Besides, you were never the type for love anyways, isn't that right, Set?"
"I haven't gone by that name in ages. You know that your actions caused that right?"
With the blink of an eye we materialized into a pocket dimension, often used for wars when the gods didn't want to disturb mortal life. Surrounding us was any and every god you heard of, even the ones you haven't. I looked at Shiva and she looked at me. We new what would happen next. We knew that the other gods wouldn't forgive us still. They wouldn't accept me after failing to keep Shiva sealed away. They wouldn't forgive Shiva for her actions. This is the end for us.
I held her hand one last time,"I love you, I always will Shiva."
"I know you do, and I love you more than you can ever imagine Set."
End
Hi everyone! This is my first time posting here in this subreddit and I felt very inspired by this WP! I hope no one is offended by my mixing of gods from other religions, I just felt it would make the story interesting if I did so. Please be a critic and tell me your likes and dislikes about my little writing here it helps a lot!!! | |
[WP] Your spouse was actually an amnesiac god that had both their powers and memories sealed away years ago. Now the seal is broken and they have regained their godhood. They're curious why you're not as happy as they are about this. | "It was an accident, baby."
"You turning me into a turtle was an accident?!" I rolled my eyes, reminding myself I needed to raise my voice, since I was a turtle. "You turning me into a turtle was an accident?!"
Rachel - what I called her - began to stroke my head. The soothing brushes of her hand over my head was something I could get used to, even if I was furious. A furious turtle.
"You were leading the charge - because you always have to," She explained, rolling her eyes at the last part. "I panicked! You're jumping from one quest to another, and they heavily outnumbered you. I mean it was a ten-to-one battle this time. When I thought to summon you back...I pictured...I pictured you as a turtle."
"But why?"
"Pardon?"
Good Heavens. "But why?!" I repeated louder.
"Because...I don't know," Rachel said, lifting up her shoulders, then dropping them. "It was the first thing that came to mind." She pulled away, waving toward her palace of gold and red. "All of this is so new to me...again. My powers are coming back to, and its so overwhelming up here." She tapped her forehead. "It's so noisy, with all this information and memories of hundreds of thousands of years. You know?" She smiled softly. "Of course you don't, but trust me, okay? I'm not going to keep you as a turtle."
"You're sure you don't prefer me as a turtle? I mean, I've got both my eyes, and I can't rush into another adventure, increasing the likelihood of being killed, tortured, betrayed, dismembered, burnt alive-"
"You've already mentioned being killed."
"-mind controlled-"
Rachel put a finger to my mouth, but the finger covered most of my face. "Hush, baby. I love you the way you are. As a human. Not a turtle."
"Really?"
"As long as you promise to think before you do anything adventurous."
"I promise."
"Pardon? I saw your mouth move, but-"
"I promise!" I called out.
Rachel smiled her perfect smile. She kissed me on the head, and then stepped away. "As long as we're clear." | It was boring day at work, just like every other day. Humans and their menial tasks, I will never understand what drives them to sit in an office building all day. If I wasn't undercover myself i would be right up there with Jesus and Odin as they have their arm wrestling tournament every milenia.
Time moves differently on Earth than it does in the Overworld. I can't even remember how long I've been here since the other gods decided I had to watch over the destroyer of worlds. She had her power and memory sealed away eons ago, yet here I am, babysitting the human incarnation of Shiva. Although its a pain finding her everytime she dies and reincarnates so soon, it's become a sort of game I play now. All this changed however, when Shiva began to study gods and the abilities they hold.
Overtime the seal has weakened and she slowly started to regain abilities, slowly started to remember her past lives. Today was the day, today the seal became undone, today my "wife" figured out her true identity. I came home ready to seal her once more, ready to bury all emotion I have ever felt towards her. I'll always remember how beautiful she was in every form she took. Arriving at the door step with a heavy heart, I enter the suburban home I had owned and passed down to myself over generations in order to hide my identity. Gazing upon her soft blushing face, I could tell something was off about Shiva. Something was missing from the heart that once brought so much destruction. While hesistant, still holding on to the love that I have, I asked the question.
"Are you aware now?"
"For once, everything makes sense, everything feels-", Shiva began, unable to find the words for her new found outlook on life and her previous actions.
"Peaceful?", I asked, hoping I was right in hesistating. Hoping that I wouldn't have to say goodbye to her once more.
"Yes, there still thoughts of purification that linger however, that was the old me.", she said this as if she turned a new leaf, like all the pain she had caused had simply gone away.
"The old you huh, what exactly do you mean?"
She stared out of the window, watching the leaves fall from the now barren birch tree, "Living so many lives has humbled me, seeing what could be and what is... It changed me, I now know the pain I have caused, I've experienced what I created"
"You mean to tell me that you, Shiva The Destroyer, are humbled and now changed?", even zeus would strach his chin in disbelief at what I just heard.
"Is it so hard to believe? Besides, you were never the type for love anyways, isn't that right, Set?"
"I haven't gone by that name in ages. You know that your actions caused that right?"
With the blink of an eye we materialized into a pocket dimension, often used for wars when the gods didn't want to disturb mortal life. Surrounding us was any and every god you heard of, even the ones you haven't. I looked at Shiva and she looked at me. We new what would happen next. We knew that the other gods wouldn't forgive us still. They wouldn't accept me after failing to keep Shiva sealed away. They wouldn't forgive Shiva for her actions. This is the end for us.
I held her hand one last time,"I love you, I always will Shiva."
"I know you do, and I love you more than you can ever imagine Set."
End
Hi everyone! This is my first time posting here in this subreddit and I felt very inspired by this WP! I hope no one is offended by my mixing of gods from other religions, I just felt it would make the story interesting if I did so. Please be a critic and tell me your likes and dislikes about my little writing here it helps a lot!!! | |
[WP] Your spouse was actually an amnesiac god that had both their powers and memories sealed away years ago. Now the seal is broken and they have regained their godhood. They're curious why you're not as happy as they are about this. | I met her on a rainy day, and like in those old romantic movies, she was drenched and unmoving. I thought she lost someone really close to her, but it turns out she lost someone more important - herself.
The despair I held for so long was cleared even with just that distant yet warm look in her eyes. For a long time, I thought I would simply stay the same way, but ever since that day, a spark of flame rose from within my heart.
Her smile continued to heal my heart as days and months passed, and while her memories never came back, we made new ones in return.
With each embrace, the ember grew, and with this stronger flame I felt her own empowered. And soon enough, years had passed, and her demeanor became ever more lovely.
I thought it was a simple result from the love we cumulated over the past decade. Her beauty never faded, not even a wrinkle shown. And in her embrace, that became ever more comfortable, I really thought it was simply love.
Then she confessed.
Her memories had slowly returned, and this was the day I learned that she was a goddess. In fact, she was the goddess of hope. She told me a story unbelievable to a simple man like me, where she was from, and how she ended up losing her memories and most of her power.
But all of that slipped my mind because of the one thing I never wanted to hear again - that she had to leave.
-
"I have to return and bring warmth to everyone again. You know this, my love, you've felt it."
I did feel it, but to leave me just for that.
"Your nature is good, my love. I know that look in your eyes and you want to be selfish, but I know who you truly are. You are the strongest human I know. Especially when you survived that- "
"No."
I didn't want to hear it again, to remember it again.
"But, my love- "
"Are you really so sure that gods are even needed anymore? The world hadn't changed so much even when you were gone."
She looked at me with those eyes again. Just like earlier when she talked about the reason for her returning.
"The Creator God had decreed it so. I am to return even if the ember of hope was not extinguished all these years. I still have to keep it safe, I have to keep its embers ignited for all of humanity."
-
It was unfair and I continued to reason with her, and finally even argued for the first time, my eyes were aflame yet she still had that look of sadness.
But she still had to leave, and she did. Exhausted from talking the entire day, I told her to give me a day, and she acquiesced. We slept together that night, and I thought to once more reason with her once I woke up. But as if she knew I would do that, she disappeared the next day.
She left me a note asking for forgiveness, and I left the note stained with tears right where she left it.
The day she left I secluded myself in my home, our home. But it was a bad idea to do that. Every corner, every room, I saw her image. Memories of her had kept me imprisoned, slowly spiraling into despair.
-
"Hello, old friend."
I talked to the mirror in front of me.
"You seem so much older than before. Have you gone and, heh, hoped again?"
He scoffed at the word hope, as if to mock me.
"Have I gone insane?"
I was talking to a mirror, surely this was just a nightmare. Surely. Because the image on the mirror was no longer me, it was a warped version of me.
"You are not insane, dear friend. Not in the least. You are simply above all. You always were."
His last words struck me, memories I buried returned to me as I grasped my head. Not even a second passed and I recovered, but not to the me she knew.
"I see."
Tears fell from my eyes as blood dripped from my nose and ears. Memories flooded my mind, of a time long ago, of a world much different from today. A world that I will endeavor to remake.
"This time, my goddess, this time you will stay forever."
After all, what hope will there be for her to protect if even the heavens fall to despair? | It was boring day at work, just like every other day. Humans and their menial tasks, I will never understand what drives them to sit in an office building all day. If I wasn't undercover myself i would be right up there with Jesus and Odin as they have their arm wrestling tournament every milenia.
Time moves differently on Earth than it does in the Overworld. I can't even remember how long I've been here since the other gods decided I had to watch over the destroyer of worlds. She had her power and memory sealed away eons ago, yet here I am, babysitting the human incarnation of Shiva. Although its a pain finding her everytime she dies and reincarnates so soon, it's become a sort of game I play now. All this changed however, when Shiva began to study gods and the abilities they hold.
Overtime the seal has weakened and she slowly started to regain abilities, slowly started to remember her past lives. Today was the day, today the seal became undone, today my "wife" figured out her true identity. I came home ready to seal her once more, ready to bury all emotion I have ever felt towards her. I'll always remember how beautiful she was in every form she took. Arriving at the door step with a heavy heart, I enter the suburban home I had owned and passed down to myself over generations in order to hide my identity. Gazing upon her soft blushing face, I could tell something was off about Shiva. Something was missing from the heart that once brought so much destruction. While hesistant, still holding on to the love that I have, I asked the question.
"Are you aware now?"
"For once, everything makes sense, everything feels-", Shiva began, unable to find the words for her new found outlook on life and her previous actions.
"Peaceful?", I asked, hoping I was right in hesistating. Hoping that I wouldn't have to say goodbye to her once more.
"Yes, there still thoughts of purification that linger however, that was the old me.", she said this as if she turned a new leaf, like all the pain she had caused had simply gone away.
"The old you huh, what exactly do you mean?"
She stared out of the window, watching the leaves fall from the now barren birch tree, "Living so many lives has humbled me, seeing what could be and what is... It changed me, I now know the pain I have caused, I've experienced what I created"
"You mean to tell me that you, Shiva The Destroyer, are humbled and now changed?", even zeus would strach his chin in disbelief at what I just heard.
"Is it so hard to believe? Besides, you were never the type for love anyways, isn't that right, Set?"
"I haven't gone by that name in ages. You know that your actions caused that right?"
With the blink of an eye we materialized into a pocket dimension, often used for wars when the gods didn't want to disturb mortal life. Surrounding us was any and every god you heard of, even the ones you haven't. I looked at Shiva and she looked at me. We new what would happen next. We knew that the other gods wouldn't forgive us still. They wouldn't accept me after failing to keep Shiva sealed away. They wouldn't forgive Shiva for her actions. This is the end for us.
I held her hand one last time,"I love you, I always will Shiva."
"I know you do, and I love you more than you can ever imagine Set."
End
Hi everyone! This is my first time posting here in this subreddit and I felt very inspired by this WP! I hope no one is offended by my mixing of gods from other religions, I just felt it would make the story interesting if I did so. Please be a critic and tell me your likes and dislikes about my little writing here it helps a lot!!! | |
[WP] Your spouse was actually an amnesiac god that had both their powers and memories sealed away years ago. Now the seal is broken and they have regained their godhood. They're curious why you're not as happy as they are about this. | Please be gentle, this is my first time posting and english isn´t my first language. Here goes:
Well... Fuck.
I mean, I was waiting for it all to come crashing down on me. But I figured it would be a bit more mundane in nature?
You know, them seeing how they could do so much better than lil´ ol´ me over here or me making some stupid goddamn mistake I couldn´t fix. But I sure didn´t have "Your beloved partner of ten years bursts into flame and ascends into heaven while going for a stroll" on my Bingo-Card.
And so I stood there, for God -Oh damn, is that them now?- knows how long, completely blindsided by what had just transpired. When I came back to myself, I turned around and made my way back home. Our home. Just my home now, I guess.
Back there, I sat down on the bed and just... took my head into my hands and started crying. I mean, what else do you do in a situation like this?
And then, all of a sudden, the sun rose. In the middle of our/my bedroom.
"Hey."
I kept looking at the ground. I didn´t think i could look at them anyway, no matter that i probably would have burnt my eyes out if i did.
"I´m really sorry, that was... a surprise. I tried coming back as soon as possible."
"Yeah, well, congrats. I guess you came by to say your farewells?"
"Wait, wha... Oh, damnit this light is annoying the fuck out of me. Give me a second."
The light dimmed.
I raised my head and looked at them. I don´t know what i expected, honestly. Not that they were still the same. Still the same face, with the smile on it that made me fall in love years ago. Wrinkles around the eyes from all the times we almsot died from laughter when one of us did something goofy.
"I mean, what else would you be here for? I appreciate it, honestly. Didn´t expect to see you again."
"What the fuck are you talking about?" They raised their hand. The small ring glittered softly. "We made a promise, you moron. Do you not want to keep it?"
"Oh, come on. How am i supposed to? You´re... Whatever you are now. A god, angel, otherworldly being... And me? I´m nothing. I didn´t deserve you before, I sure don´t deserve you now!"
"Stop it! I´m not having this talk with you AGAIN. I. CHOSE. YOU. You do not get to make this decision for me. And this." They gestured at themselves. "This does not change a thing. I still love you. I still choose you. Do you still do the same?"
"I... Yes. You know I do."
"Good, so stand up. I´ve got so much to show you. And when we´re done, I have a gift for you."
They offered me a hand. | It was boring day at work, just like every other day. Humans and their menial tasks, I will never understand what drives them to sit in an office building all day. If I wasn't undercover myself i would be right up there with Jesus and Odin as they have their arm wrestling tournament every milenia.
Time moves differently on Earth than it does in the Overworld. I can't even remember how long I've been here since the other gods decided I had to watch over the destroyer of worlds. She had her power and memory sealed away eons ago, yet here I am, babysitting the human incarnation of Shiva. Although its a pain finding her everytime she dies and reincarnates so soon, it's become a sort of game I play now. All this changed however, when Shiva began to study gods and the abilities they hold.
Overtime the seal has weakened and she slowly started to regain abilities, slowly started to remember her past lives. Today was the day, today the seal became undone, today my "wife" figured out her true identity. I came home ready to seal her once more, ready to bury all emotion I have ever felt towards her. I'll always remember how beautiful she was in every form she took. Arriving at the door step with a heavy heart, I enter the suburban home I had owned and passed down to myself over generations in order to hide my identity. Gazing upon her soft blushing face, I could tell something was off about Shiva. Something was missing from the heart that once brought so much destruction. While hesistant, still holding on to the love that I have, I asked the question.
"Are you aware now?"
"For once, everything makes sense, everything feels-", Shiva began, unable to find the words for her new found outlook on life and her previous actions.
"Peaceful?", I asked, hoping I was right in hesistating. Hoping that I wouldn't have to say goodbye to her once more.
"Yes, there still thoughts of purification that linger however, that was the old me.", she said this as if she turned a new leaf, like all the pain she had caused had simply gone away.
"The old you huh, what exactly do you mean?"
She stared out of the window, watching the leaves fall from the now barren birch tree, "Living so many lives has humbled me, seeing what could be and what is... It changed me, I now know the pain I have caused, I've experienced what I created"
"You mean to tell me that you, Shiva The Destroyer, are humbled and now changed?", even zeus would strach his chin in disbelief at what I just heard.
"Is it so hard to believe? Besides, you were never the type for love anyways, isn't that right, Set?"
"I haven't gone by that name in ages. You know that your actions caused that right?"
With the blink of an eye we materialized into a pocket dimension, often used for wars when the gods didn't want to disturb mortal life. Surrounding us was any and every god you heard of, even the ones you haven't. I looked at Shiva and she looked at me. We new what would happen next. We knew that the other gods wouldn't forgive us still. They wouldn't accept me after failing to keep Shiva sealed away. They wouldn't forgive Shiva for her actions. This is the end for us.
I held her hand one last time,"I love you, I always will Shiva."
"I know you do, and I love you more than you can ever imagine Set."
End
Hi everyone! This is my first time posting here in this subreddit and I felt very inspired by this WP! I hope no one is offended by my mixing of gods from other religions, I just felt it would make the story interesting if I did so. Please be a critic and tell me your likes and dislikes about my little writing here it helps a lot!!! | |
[WP] Your spouse was actually an amnesiac god that had both their powers and memories sealed away years ago. Now the seal is broken and they have regained their godhood. They're curious why you're not as happy as they are about this. | This changes nothing
That's what I kept trying to tell myself at least. It's the first thing my wife told me a month ago when she had made her discovery; that she was more than a mere human.
For the past month, I clung to those words like a drowning man to a life boat in the middle of a typhoon.
For the past month, I wanted so desperately for those words to be true; that despite what she discovered, nothing would change between us.
However, no matter how hard I clung to my love's reassuring words with a desperate fervor, part of me knew better.
True, my wife did do her best to try and live life like she always had when she had believed herself to be human.
But how long could this really last? A decade? A year? Another month? Another week? Another day? Try as I may to deny it, I knew that one day she would grow tired of playing the role of being a mere human's wife and when that day comes...
I'll be alone.
I can't say I would blame her though. With all the power she has at her disposal, she could probably solve world hunger or end all war on earth. She could probably even solve climate change.
She definitely shouldn't be playing house with some average human she had eloped with when we were 16.
And yet, even as I thought about what she should be doing. A selfish part of me wanted nothing more than to keep her all to myself, the rest of the world be damned.
Was it selfish? Definitely. Did I care? Not one bit.
What did the world ever do for me anyway? What has humanity ever done for me that I should let go of the one person who has ever shown me true unconditional love for their sake.
Absolutely nothing.
Let them call me selfish, let them call me a villain for keeping them from salvation. I couldn't care less what they think of me.
She is the only one who matters to me, the one who ever mattered to me. If keeping her to myself means this world will keep on burning, then I say let it.
But what if she wants to leave? What if she wants to save them? Could I even do anything to stop her?
No, I couldn't. I was a mere human and she was a goddess. If she really wanted to leave, nothing I do could stop her.
Even now, such a fact does not fail to bring tears to my eyes as my chest constricts painfully and I sink down to my knees in despair.
I didn't know how long I was bawling my eyes out on the kitchen floor but the next thing I know something wraps around my midsection and pulls me into the air making me yelp in surprise.
Not a second later, I am brought face to face with my wife of two years.
She was not amused.
Hurriedly, I tried to cover my face with my hands to hide the fact that I had been crying, only to find that they were bound to my sides as my wife's long silvery white prehensile hair kept me suspended in the air by my midsection.
I look away from my wife to hide my face as I tried to compose myself.
Not even a second later, my wife's firm yet gentle fingers caressed my chin and turned my tear-streaken face towards her.
Her amber eyes were filled with concern as she saw my face.
Her other hand came up to my face as she carressed my face lovingly.
"It's been a month now, Love" she said in a soft whispered voice. "This is the 15th time this happened"
That was a shock. I had always been careful to only let the dam burst when I was sure I was alone.
I should've known better than to think I could hide anything from her.
Even before she discovered her true nature, she had an uncanny way of knowing when I was upset.
She leaned forward and placed a chaste kiss on my lips as her fingers wiped away my tears.
"Please, Love, tell me what's wrong"
My heart clenched painfully in my chest, both at the pet name and the concern in her voice.
Even so I remained silent, fear and dread had my throat in a vice grip strangling any words that I tried to let out.
"Is it my new form, Love? Does it bother you? What I look like now that is?" She asked sadly.
Unable to form words, I shake my head desperately at her.
I did not now nor did I ever want her to feel that how she looked like was a problem and that I couldn't love her because of it.
She definitely looked different now, there was no denying that.
Her hair had become longer than she was tall, turning a silver white color and becoming prehensile.
Her eyes had become a glowing amber color.
A glowing purple orb started floating in front of her forehead.
Two lavender colored cloudy wisps formed vague horns on her head.
Parts of her milky white skin, mainly her forearm, thighs and legs, was now covered in a lavender colored skin-like film, which gave her fingers needle-like tips and her feet sharp claw-like toes.
I had asked her about it once and she had told me it was a form of skin armor that protected her body, which is also why she had foregone wearing clothes at home.
They just weren't necessary she said.
At least her armor still covered her important parts.
But even with this radical new change in my wife's body, never once had I stopped loving her.
New form or not, she was still the one I loved.
She allowed herself a sigh in relief at the shake of my head before turned to me again with the same concern as before.
"If it's not the way I look now, then what is bothering you"
Again, fear and dread strangled my throat to keep my words in as if merely saying my deepest fears would make them come true.
I stayed silent, hoping she would let it go and I could go back to pretending like nothing happened.
She wasn't having it.
Not letting my face go, her face morphed into a gentle expression as she slowly started levitating off the kitchen floor and up to our shared bedroom, my body still firmly wrapped up in her prehensile hair.
Softly, she laid me down on our small bed, her prehensile hair keeping me in place, before she quietly laid down next to me.
She leaned in close to me until she had her body pressed up against mine, She propped her elbow up on the pillow to look at me while her other hand carressed my face and wiped away stray tears.
"Take as much time as you need, Love" she smiled gently. "When you're ready to talk, I'll be right here"
There really would be no avoiding it then.
I opted to stay silent and leaned into her warmth, trying desperately to hang onto what little barrowed time I had left.
For her part, my wife was very patient with me; alternating between caressing my face, running her fingers through my hair and planting chaste kisses on my lips.
Why couldn't we stay like this forever? Why did she have to find out that she was a goddess? She was the only good thing that ever happened to me, why did she have to go?
These thoughts brought on a fresh wave of tears as I closed my eyes, ones that were quickly kissed away by my wife as she pulled me closer to her in response.
She was getting anxious, I could tell. You don't spend majority of your childhood together and not learn to pick up on each other's subtle tells.
She deserved better than this. To always be worrying about a fragile human's mental wellbeing, she could do so much more. She was born to be more.
Taking a deep breath, I forced the words out through my congealing throat.
"I'm afraid of losing you"
As close as she was to me, my wife heard my words, whispered as they were.
"You're not going to lose me"
"I might"
"How so?"
I took another deep breath and closed my eyes, unable to meet her gaze.
"You're a goddess. You're so much more powerful, more beautiful, more intelligent; you're so much more than I could ever be"
I was hiccuping and sniffling now as I continued to force the words out. Deep breaths. No matter what, she deserved to know the truth.
"And no matter how hard I try to deny it, part of me knows that you could do so much more for the rest of humanity if you weren't stuck with me. That you could probably turn this world into a paradise if I wasn't holding you back. And I'm afraid that one day, you'll realise that; that one day I'm gonna wake up and you're not there anymore."
I was crying my eyes out again tears flowing down my cheeks like waterfalls and my congealed throat reducing my breaths to hiccuping sniffles.
It was out there now at least, she had her answer.
She hadn't said a thing since I started talking and I did not dare open my eyes to look at her either.
The silence stretched on and her hand had stopped.
As the silence continued to last, part of me started to hope that maybe just maybe she had realized all of this and simply chose to stay with me; that even her new abilities I would always be more important to her than the rest of-
"You're right" | I loved my wife. She was my everything. But that was before the tragedy. Well to her it was a miracle. Turns out she was a goddess who got sealed away, with no memories. She was ecstatic to be free. And at first I was confused and concerned, but now I'm just sorrowful.
Over the past 2 weeks since when it first happened, I had realized that she had became a completely different person. Her humanity was gone. She acted like how a god does. And I mean that in a bad way. Uncaring and apathetic to mortals. Yet she still loved me. I on the other felt nothing. There was almost nothing of the woman I had fallen in love with left. And so I decided to tell her.
"This isn't going to work out."I said coldly.
"WHAT!? WHY!?" She said confused.
"You're not the same person as who I had fallen in love with, not even close." I said, a hint of sorrow showing pass my cold demeanor.
"I'm more me than I've ever been. How come you aren't happy? Aren't ecstatic? Wanting to divorce me? I can do anything. I'M A GOD!" She said, anger in her voice.
"I just said why. You've changed, and I loved the old you, not the new you." I said, returning back to my cold demeanor.
"WHY!? I CAN DO SO MUCH MORE! BE SO MUCH MORE! SHOW YOU SITES YOU'VE NEVER DREAMED OF!" She said, her voice a mix of sorrow, confusion, and anger.
"I don't care about that. I'm no longer happy with you. I no longer feel love towards you." I said, still as cold as before.
The moment I said I no longer loved her, she went into absolute rage. She burst out the house, destroying a large chunk of it, and left. But I know she'll be back. Either to "punish" me, or to try to kidnap me. I've seen how these stories where gods fall in love with or in interact with mortals goes.
So I sit here and wait. Seeing what fate shall befall me. But whatever it is, I don't care, not anymore. It feels as if my heart has been frozen solid. I've lost the will to care about anything anymore. | |
[WP] Your spouse was actually an amnesiac god that had both their powers and memories sealed away years ago. Now the seal is broken and they have regained their godhood. They're curious why you're not as happy as they are about this. | This changes nothing
That's what I kept trying to tell myself at least. It's the first thing my wife told me a month ago when she had made her discovery; that she was more than a mere human.
For the past month, I clung to those words like a drowning man to a life boat in the middle of a typhoon.
For the past month, I wanted so desperately for those words to be true; that despite what she discovered, nothing would change between us.
However, no matter how hard I clung to my love's reassuring words with a desperate fervor, part of me knew better.
True, my wife did do her best to try and live life like she always had when she had believed herself to be human.
But how long could this really last? A decade? A year? Another month? Another week? Another day? Try as I may to deny it, I knew that one day she would grow tired of playing the role of being a mere human's wife and when that day comes...
I'll be alone.
I can't say I would blame her though. With all the power she has at her disposal, she could probably solve world hunger or end all war on earth. She could probably even solve climate change.
She definitely shouldn't be playing house with some average human she had eloped with when we were 16.
And yet, even as I thought about what she should be doing. A selfish part of me wanted nothing more than to keep her all to myself, the rest of the world be damned.
Was it selfish? Definitely. Did I care? Not one bit.
What did the world ever do for me anyway? What has humanity ever done for me that I should let go of the one person who has ever shown me true unconditional love for their sake.
Absolutely nothing.
Let them call me selfish, let them call me a villain for keeping them from salvation. I couldn't care less what they think of me.
She is the only one who matters to me, the one who ever mattered to me. If keeping her to myself means this world will keep on burning, then I say let it.
But what if she wants to leave? What if she wants to save them? Could I even do anything to stop her?
No, I couldn't. I was a mere human and she was a goddess. If she really wanted to leave, nothing I do could stop her.
Even now, such a fact does not fail to bring tears to my eyes as my chest constricts painfully and I sink down to my knees in despair.
I didn't know how long I was bawling my eyes out on the kitchen floor but the next thing I know something wraps around my midsection and pulls me into the air making me yelp in surprise.
Not a second later, I am brought face to face with my wife of two years.
She was not amused.
Hurriedly, I tried to cover my face with my hands to hide the fact that I had been crying, only to find that they were bound to my sides as my wife's long silvery white prehensile hair kept me suspended in the air by my midsection.
I look away from my wife to hide my face as I tried to compose myself.
Not even a second later, my wife's firm yet gentle fingers caressed my chin and turned my tear-streaken face towards her.
Her amber eyes were filled with concern as she saw my face.
Her other hand came up to my face as she carressed my face lovingly.
"It's been a month now, Love" she said in a soft whispered voice. "This is the 15th time this happened"
That was a shock. I had always been careful to only let the dam burst when I was sure I was alone.
I should've known better than to think I could hide anything from her.
Even before she discovered her true nature, she had an uncanny way of knowing when I was upset.
She leaned forward and placed a chaste kiss on my lips as her fingers wiped away my tears.
"Please, Love, tell me what's wrong"
My heart clenched painfully in my chest, both at the pet name and the concern in her voice.
Even so I remained silent, fear and dread had my throat in a vice grip strangling any words that I tried to let out.
"Is it my new form, Love? Does it bother you? What I look like now that is?" She asked sadly.
Unable to form words, I shake my head desperately at her.
I did not now nor did I ever want her to feel that how she looked like was a problem and that I couldn't love her because of it.
She definitely looked different now, there was no denying that.
Her hair had become longer than she was tall, turning a silver white color and becoming prehensile.
Her eyes had become a glowing amber color.
A glowing purple orb started floating in front of her forehead.
Two lavender colored cloudy wisps formed vague horns on her head.
Parts of her milky white skin, mainly her forearm, thighs and legs, was now covered in a lavender colored skin-like film, which gave her fingers needle-like tips and her feet sharp claw-like toes.
I had asked her about it once and she had told me it was a form of skin armor that protected her body, which is also why she had foregone wearing clothes at home.
They just weren't necessary she said.
At least her armor still covered her important parts.
But even with this radical new change in my wife's body, never once had I stopped loving her.
New form or not, she was still the one I loved.
She allowed herself a sigh in relief at the shake of my head before turned to me again with the same concern as before.
"If it's not the way I look now, then what is bothering you"
Again, fear and dread strangled my throat to keep my words in as if merely saying my deepest fears would make them come true.
I stayed silent, hoping she would let it go and I could go back to pretending like nothing happened.
She wasn't having it.
Not letting my face go, her face morphed into a gentle expression as she slowly started levitating off the kitchen floor and up to our shared bedroom, my body still firmly wrapped up in her prehensile hair.
Softly, she laid me down on our small bed, her prehensile hair keeping me in place, before she quietly laid down next to me.
She leaned in close to me until she had her body pressed up against mine, She propped her elbow up on the pillow to look at me while her other hand carressed my face and wiped away stray tears.
"Take as much time as you need, Love" she smiled gently. "When you're ready to talk, I'll be right here"
There really would be no avoiding it then.
I opted to stay silent and leaned into her warmth, trying desperately to hang onto what little barrowed time I had left.
For her part, my wife was very patient with me; alternating between caressing my face, running her fingers through my hair and planting chaste kisses on my lips.
Why couldn't we stay like this forever? Why did she have to find out that she was a goddess? She was the only good thing that ever happened to me, why did she have to go?
These thoughts brought on a fresh wave of tears as I closed my eyes, ones that were quickly kissed away by my wife as she pulled me closer to her in response.
She was getting anxious, I could tell. You don't spend majority of your childhood together and not learn to pick up on each other's subtle tells.
She deserved better than this. To always be worrying about a fragile human's mental wellbeing, she could do so much more. She was born to be more.
Taking a deep breath, I forced the words out through my congealing throat.
"I'm afraid of losing you"
As close as she was to me, my wife heard my words, whispered as they were.
"You're not going to lose me"
"I might"
"How so?"
I took another deep breath and closed my eyes, unable to meet her gaze.
"You're a goddess. You're so much more powerful, more beautiful, more intelligent; you're so much more than I could ever be"
I was hiccuping and sniffling now as I continued to force the words out. Deep breaths. No matter what, she deserved to know the truth.
"And no matter how hard I try to deny it, part of me knows that you could do so much more for the rest of humanity if you weren't stuck with me. That you could probably turn this world into a paradise if I wasn't holding you back. And I'm afraid that one day, you'll realise that; that one day I'm gonna wake up and you're not there anymore."
I was crying my eyes out again tears flowing down my cheeks like waterfalls and my congealed throat reducing my breaths to hiccuping sniffles.
It was out there now at least, she had her answer.
She hadn't said a thing since I started talking and I did not dare open my eyes to look at her either.
The silence stretched on and her hand had stopped.
As the silence continued to last, part of me started to hope that maybe just maybe she had realized all of this and simply chose to stay with me; that even her new abilities I would always be more important to her than the rest of-
"You're right" | “Wait, so you’re… a literal god? Why didn’t you ever tell me!!!?”
“I uhhhh, thought I lost all my powers, and memories until just now. I think… I have to go back to my duties… don’t worry, I don’t have to work a lot, we can keep our old life mostly unchanged!”
“I don’t get it… what are your… duties? Oh god, are you like a god of death? Do you kill people?”
“Wow that’s where you immediately go? No eww, I uhhh… I’m an amnesiac god, I take memories from people. Haven’t you realized that old trope of people being in car crashes and losing their memories hasn’t happened in a long time?”
“What… oh, so… you only need to do this once in a while? Like a part time job? You just… go take someone’s memories and come back?”
“Exactly! We’ll always be the loving way we always were! I love you and we won’t have to change anything!”
“I love you too! But… why’s the living room trashed? It’s almost like we were having a massive fight or something!”
“Oh uhhh that must have been my powers coming back and causing this huge mess, I guess that gave you quite a shock! Did you bump your head? Don’t you remember how we were just snuggling and watching tv on the couch? We were definitely not having a massive fight… stop thinking too much!!! Go sleep for the night, I’ll be back in the morning after my duties, I’m sure you’ll only be thinking about the good memories when you wake up!” | |
[WP] Your spouse was actually an amnesiac god that had both their powers and memories sealed away years ago. Now the seal is broken and they have regained their godhood. They're curious why you're not as happy as they are about this. | I met her on a rainy day, and like in those old romantic movies, she was drenched and unmoving. I thought she lost someone really close to her, but it turns out she lost someone more important - herself.
The despair I held for so long was cleared even with just that distant yet warm look in her eyes. For a long time, I thought I would simply stay the same way, but ever since that day, a spark of flame rose from within my heart.
Her smile continued to heal my heart as days and months passed, and while her memories never came back, we made new ones in return.
With each embrace, the ember grew, and with this stronger flame I felt her own empowered. And soon enough, years had passed, and her demeanor became ever more lovely.
I thought it was a simple result from the love we cumulated over the past decade. Her beauty never faded, not even a wrinkle shown. And in her embrace, that became ever more comfortable, I really thought it was simply love.
Then she confessed.
Her memories had slowly returned, and this was the day I learned that she was a goddess. In fact, she was the goddess of hope. She told me a story unbelievable to a simple man like me, where she was from, and how she ended up losing her memories and most of her power.
But all of that slipped my mind because of the one thing I never wanted to hear again - that she had to leave.
-
"I have to return and bring warmth to everyone again. You know this, my love, you've felt it."
I did feel it, but to leave me just for that.
"Your nature is good, my love. I know that look in your eyes and you want to be selfish, but I know who you truly are. You are the strongest human I know. Especially when you survived that- "
"No."
I didn't want to hear it again, to remember it again.
"But, my love- "
"Are you really so sure that gods are even needed anymore? The world hadn't changed so much even when you were gone."
She looked at me with those eyes again. Just like earlier when she talked about the reason for her returning.
"The Creator God had decreed it so. I am to return even if the ember of hope was not extinguished all these years. I still have to keep it safe, I have to keep its embers ignited for all of humanity."
-
It was unfair and I continued to reason with her, and finally even argued for the first time, my eyes were aflame yet she still had that look of sadness.
But she still had to leave, and she did. Exhausted from talking the entire day, I told her to give me a day, and she acquiesced. We slept together that night, and I thought to once more reason with her once I woke up. But as if she knew I would do that, she disappeared the next day.
She left me a note asking for forgiveness, and I left the note stained with tears right where she left it.
The day she left I secluded myself in my home, our home. But it was a bad idea to do that. Every corner, every room, I saw her image. Memories of her had kept me imprisoned, slowly spiraling into despair.
-
"Hello, old friend."
I talked to the mirror in front of me.
"You seem so much older than before. Have you gone and, heh, hoped again?"
He scoffed at the word hope, as if to mock me.
"Have I gone insane?"
I was talking to a mirror, surely this was just a nightmare. Surely. Because the image on the mirror was no longer me, it was a warped version of me.
"You are not insane, dear friend. Not in the least. You are simply above all. You always were."
His last words struck me, memories I buried returned to me as I grasped my head. Not even a second passed and I recovered, but not to the me she knew.
"I see."
Tears fell from my eyes as blood dripped from my nose and ears. Memories flooded my mind, of a time long ago, of a world much different from today. A world that I will endeavor to remake.
"This time, my goddess, this time you will stay forever."
After all, what hope will there be for her to protect if even the heavens fall to despair? | “Why do you want a divorce?”
“I just don’t think this marriage is going to work anymore.”
“Why? Just because I’m actually a god. So what if I can never die because I don’t age, that’s means we can spend forever together.”
“Is not that.”
“Oh really, it’s because of the super strength, isn’t it. Honey, just because I can crush steel with my barehand and lift our house up with a finger doesn’t mean you need to fear me.”
“No.”
“What just cause I no longer need sex?”
“I’m asexual. I’m divorcing your because I’m the Devil from da bible.” | |
[WP] Your spouse was actually an amnesiac god that had both their powers and memories sealed away years ago. Now the seal is broken and they have regained their godhood. They're curious why you're not as happy as they are about this. | Please be gentle, this is my first time posting and english isn´t my first language. Here goes:
Well... Fuck.
I mean, I was waiting for it all to come crashing down on me. But I figured it would be a bit more mundane in nature?
You know, them seeing how they could do so much better than lil´ ol´ me over here or me making some stupid goddamn mistake I couldn´t fix. But I sure didn´t have "Your beloved partner of ten years bursts into flame and ascends into heaven while going for a stroll" on my Bingo-Card.
And so I stood there, for God -Oh damn, is that them now?- knows how long, completely blindsided by what had just transpired. When I came back to myself, I turned around and made my way back home. Our home. Just my home now, I guess.
Back there, I sat down on the bed and just... took my head into my hands and started crying. I mean, what else do you do in a situation like this?
And then, all of a sudden, the sun rose. In the middle of our/my bedroom.
"Hey."
I kept looking at the ground. I didn´t think i could look at them anyway, no matter that i probably would have burnt my eyes out if i did.
"I´m really sorry, that was... a surprise. I tried coming back as soon as possible."
"Yeah, well, congrats. I guess you came by to say your farewells?"
"Wait, wha... Oh, damnit this light is annoying the fuck out of me. Give me a second."
The light dimmed.
I raised my head and looked at them. I don´t know what i expected, honestly. Not that they were still the same. Still the same face, with the smile on it that made me fall in love years ago. Wrinkles around the eyes from all the times we almsot died from laughter when one of us did something goofy.
"I mean, what else would you be here for? I appreciate it, honestly. Didn´t expect to see you again."
"What the fuck are you talking about?" They raised their hand. The small ring glittered softly. "We made a promise, you moron. Do you not want to keep it?"
"Oh, come on. How am i supposed to? You´re... Whatever you are now. A god, angel, otherworldly being... And me? I´m nothing. I didn´t deserve you before, I sure don´t deserve you now!"
"Stop it! I´m not having this talk with you AGAIN. I. CHOSE. YOU. You do not get to make this decision for me. And this." They gestured at themselves. "This does not change a thing. I still love you. I still choose you. Do you still do the same?"
"I... Yes. You know I do."
"Good, so stand up. I´ve got so much to show you. And when we´re done, I have a gift for you."
They offered me a hand. | “Why do you want a divorce?”
“I just don’t think this marriage is going to work anymore.”
“Why? Just because I’m actually a god. So what if I can never die because I don’t age, that’s means we can spend forever together.”
“Is not that.”
“Oh really, it’s because of the super strength, isn’t it. Honey, just because I can crush steel with my barehand and lift our house up with a finger doesn’t mean you need to fear me.”
“No.”
“What just cause I no longer need sex?”
“I’m asexual. I’m divorcing your because I’m the Devil from da bible.” | |
[WP] Your spouse was actually an amnesiac god that had both their powers and memories sealed away years ago. Now the seal is broken and they have regained their godhood. They're curious why you're not as happy as they are about this. | A wild grin tugged at his face as the electricity crackled at his fingertips.
"Right? Huh?" He wiggled his fingers watching his partner's expression...but they just stared at him. "You're...not...psyched." He said and as the disappointment filled his words the sparks at his fingertips extinguished.
"I mean..." His partner began, running a hand through their cropped hair. "It's a lot to process."
Not a "HOLY SHIT" or an "I knew it!" just a quiet thoughtful expression on their face. They'd been together 10 years. He'd been on earth for 15. 5 years of feeling like an incapable outcast with no family and he had found them...this strange quiet being. Also alone. Also confused. They could relate to feeling as if they were a different species altogether. Suddenly they weren't alone.
The key difference was that he *was a different species*. And now he remembered. His head was swimming with the realization that he was so much more than this small being before him and *yet*...10 years of memories...of being cared for. Of being loved as an equal.
No. He was a **god**. And he had expected the mortal to react accordingly. But they were not on their knees in awe, they were not even delighted by the electricity at his fingertips. They were just staring at him, blankly.
​
"You need to process." The god said after a moment of silence. "How human."
Al frowned at him. "See, that's the kind of thing that makes a person uncomfortable."
"I'm a *God,* Al. You're supposed to feel a little uncomfortable."
​
"That's the thing I can't wrap my brain around. Superpowers? Sure. But...you're so..." They paused.
He felt irritation flare in him. "Go on, *say it*."
​
"Non-confrontational."
​
He stared at them and felt the electricity spark at his fingers as his irritation morphed into anger. "And *you* think that makes me *too weak to be a god?**"*
Al frowned. "Weak?! No. You're...so kind and careful and thoughtful... I just...can't think of a time where I heard of a non-confrontational god."
"I'm not a god of war." He snapped, but his head was pounding now.
Memories were spiraling and tangling themselves suddenly in his mind. God...human...god...human.
It would be so much easier if he could remember more than flashes. Transforming, shifting, running, sparking electricity, and...battling? No. He never fought outright. But he was still more powerful than humans. They were ants. His mother had said -
​
**No.** Al was not an ant. An ant couldn't make a person sob and beg for forgiveness. An ant couldn't hold happiness between their teeth. An ant couldn't make a god feel loved. Feel safe.
"I must leave." He said suddenly, standing.
Al took half a step forward and stopped. "Please don't. I'm sorry. It's a lot to process and it's going to take time but I don't want you to leave - I'm not even sure if it's safe for you to leave. Please. I...I just need you to stay. ease."
​
*Don't leave.* Said Brian's voice in the back of the god's head. He stared at Al's face. An old instinct kicked in. *Don't kill them either.*
"I'll return." He said and suddenly shifted into the shadows.
Al stared at the table's shadow as it morphed and returned to normal before their knees gave way and they found themself on the couch. "Return from where...?" They whimpered and buried their face in their hands. And then, unable to contain their feelings any longer they pounded their fist into the couch.
***"What the fuck just happened?"*** | “Why do you want a divorce?”
“I just don’t think this marriage is going to work anymore.”
“Why? Just because I’m actually a god. So what if I can never die because I don’t age, that’s means we can spend forever together.”
“Is not that.”
“Oh really, it’s because of the super strength, isn’t it. Honey, just because I can crush steel with my barehand and lift our house up with a finger doesn’t mean you need to fear me.”
“No.”
“What just cause I no longer need sex?”
“I’m asexual. I’m divorcing your because I’m the Devil from da bible.” | |
[WP] Your spouse was actually an amnesiac god that had both their powers and memories sealed away years ago. Now the seal is broken and they have regained their godhood. They're curious why you're not as happy as they are about this. | "The word is open to me like no other, I can see the histories long lost, remember the names of forgotten brothers, and sisters. I can rebuild the kingdom of our people into something envious of these false rulers why are you not happy beloved?"
My omnipotent, wife?
They were kind of beyond gender right now, but I'm gonna stick with wife for now.
She floated above me her skin covered in stars, sand pouring like rain from underneath her dress. Hundreds, no thousands? Of eyes peaking and skittering around her head staring into endless futures. Her hair occasionally waving out of the way to show her third eye on her forehead, both looking at me and away from me at the same time somehow. A large hourglass displaying millions of strands of sand and fate. Yeah, gotta admit that was pretty cool, but I had one concern in all of this...
"Alexandria, what do you want for dinner?"
"What? I know the weight of the sun from second to second, and you ask me that?" Her many eyes removing themselves from the 100 futures they saw and focusing on me angrily.
"So you know then? Right now you can shift to a human form, and we can go to a dinner of your choice?" I responded straight faced to the many winged goddess. She was radiant, and beautiful but she'd always been like that even when she was simply just my software engineer wife.
"I can answer ANY question from multiple realities, are you sure you don't want to ask me anything else? Something of precedent that could benefit our world?" The eyes wavered around her head. Some of them seeming to be avoiding a future discussion that others were almost tearfully focused on.
"Yes, bean" I said calmly. Her eyes softened immediately, she loved when I called her that. "If you can tell me what you want to eat we can celebrate your ascension"
She seemed to shift around avoiding eye contact which she was *somehow* doing with her endless giant eyes. "The point is I'm too busy bab-" was she literally shifting *stars* to avoid talking about this?
"Babe I'm asking because if you're still having issues figuring out the basic *human* things you can understand my concerns about this right?" The stars spun even faster, Yup hit a nerve.
"That's not the point Edmond, and I *do* know what I want" she smirked at me while peaking into a timeline where Babylon ruled the earth.
"No, you don't want chicken I know you don't because the meal you're thinking of isn't actually a chicken meal. You want that texture, but you don't want chicken consistency it weirds you out" I calmly responded while staring into another reality that one of her many eyeballs stared into. *Are those worms with human arms?*
"...I can't believe you're focusing on this" Alexandria said as she finally looked at me with her three main eyes. "I'm a *GODDESS* Eddie I can decide what I want to eat"
"Do it"
"I mean I don't want to right now"
"So you can't or you won't?"
"Well there goes the WORM timeline thanks for making me lose focus Eddie" she said trying to change topics. I know that's what she was doing cause I was still looking at the worm timeline, and wow they were efficient builders.
"I'm not trying to scare you love I just...you gotta be careful we have no idea what you can do. So let's take it slow, and figure it out" I reached out and gripped her giant finger in my hand.
"Thank you Eddie...you've gotten pretty wise huh?"
She said a little tearful, were those *emerald tears?* okay that's impressive. Gotta be painful, but still that's impressive.
"Yeah I know I am pretty wise and all knowing myself huh?" I said my chest puffing up in pride.
"So you know where your socks are, and your favorite rolling pin oh wise one?" She said staring at me affectionately.
"...Okay now I get why you were so mad" | “Why do you want a divorce?”
“I just don’t think this marriage is going to work anymore.”
“Why? Just because I’m actually a god. So what if I can never die because I don’t age, that’s means we can spend forever together.”
“Is not that.”
“Oh really, it’s because of the super strength, isn’t it. Honey, just because I can crush steel with my barehand and lift our house up with a finger doesn’t mean you need to fear me.”
“No.”
“What just cause I no longer need sex?”
“I’m asexual. I’m divorcing your because I’m the Devil from da bible.” | |
[WP] Your spouse was actually an amnesiac god that had both their powers and memories sealed away years ago. Now the seal is broken and they have regained their godhood. They're curious why you're not as happy as they are about this. | "I don't care if you're the goddess of the sky. My uncle wants us over for Thanksgiving and it's been years since we've made it up to Wisconsin. Honey... Look..."
I sit down across from her on the couch.
"I can't say enough how much I and everyone else appreciate you fighting off the ravaging horde that came through that portal. And yes you singlehandedly stopped a tsunami that would have claimed thousands of lives in south east Asia. But uncle Bob doesn't have too many years left on this earth and I think he'd really like to see you again. I know you and he really bonded over you both being air force veterans. So could you do this for me? Cancun isn't going anywhere and Christmas is still open. But he'd really love to take us out and shoot some clay one last time....
...and if you are really worried about what they'll say about all this new stuff, just remember, Cousin Sue is bringing her boyfriend from college again and they've broken up 3 times in as many fiscal years so we've got a smokescreen if things get hairy." | “Why do you want a divorce?”
“I just don’t think this marriage is going to work anymore.”
“Why? Just because I’m actually a god. So what if I can never die because I don’t age, that’s means we can spend forever together.”
“Is not that.”
“Oh really, it’s because of the super strength, isn’t it. Honey, just because I can crush steel with my barehand and lift our house up with a finger doesn’t mean you need to fear me.”
“No.”
“What just cause I no longer need sex?”
“I’m asexual. I’m divorcing your because I’m the Devil from da bible.” | |
[WP] Your spouse was actually an amnesiac god that had both their powers and memories sealed away years ago. Now the seal is broken and they have regained their godhood. They're curious why you're not as happy as they are about this. | " - How can you NOT see the damn problem, Katherine?
\- Why are you reacting like this, George? Are you scared to be married to a strong woman, as I am not your little pawn?
\- Wh-! I am not talking about that! You're saying this is normal? THIS IS BEYOND NORMAL, KATHERINE!
\- George, it's perfectly normal to be scared. I know it's a big change, but life is about change. All things change, and so do us now.
\- DON'T YOU THINK ABOUT ME TOO, KATHERINE? YOU CANNOT DO THAT!
\- Stop with all that, George. You know what I must do as a the new Mantis God Queen. Stay still now.
\- I just wanted to keep my head..." | “Why do you want a divorce?”
“I just don’t think this marriage is going to work anymore.”
“Why? Just because I’m actually a god. So what if I can never die because I don’t age, that’s means we can spend forever together.”
“Is not that.”
“Oh really, it’s because of the super strength, isn’t it. Honey, just because I can crush steel with my barehand and lift our house up with a finger doesn’t mean you need to fear me.”
“No.”
“What just cause I no longer need sex?”
“I’m asexual. I’m divorcing your because I’m the Devil from da bible.” | |
[WP] Your spouse was actually an amnesiac god that had both their powers and memories sealed away years ago. Now the seal is broken and they have regained their godhood. They're curious why you're not as happy as they are about this. | It all happened very quick. We were in an argument my wife, Sarah, and I. I saw the tiniest glint of a spiderweb descending upon her, something she was terrified of and I ran and caught and crushed it with my hand, accidentally knocking her down in the process.
It was within that single breath that Sarah knocked her head. Then her memory returned.
She always said she couldn’t remember anything from her childhood, we always thought it had to do with Trauma. On our wedding day I vowed to always be by her side and protect her from anything.
It was directly after the squish of the Black Spider that she spoke.
“I-“ she took a deep breath, “baby I remember.”
I looked at her stunned, the woman I saw was laying against the wall, I feared I awoken trauma and instantly knelt to apologize. But her eyes…. They were different…
“Morgan, I remember.” Sarah said. Her eyes glowing a bright blue color. “I remember everything.”
She smiled as energy crackled around her fingers. Tears prickled at her eyes as she remembered who she was. “You’re the missing goddess, aren’t you?”
She nodded. The goddess that had been missing for thousands of years.
And in that moment I remembered that I wouldn’t live along side her. I would never be able to protect her. Our lifetime together was a mere fraction of hers and then my soul would be gone.
I fell back devastated.
“Morgan, are you alright?” She said blinking with her bright eyes now calming. “This is amazing! I’ve gotten my power and memories back! The goddess of knowledge is back!“ She exclaimed.
How could she be so happy?
I was going to die. Was I even worth remembering?
I started to cry.
“Morgan, why aren’t you happy?”
“You’re the goddess of knowledge! You should know!” I yelled back at her.
“You don’t remember either…”
“What the fuck are you talking about Sarah? If I can even fucking call you that now!”
“Oh, sweet protector of mine….”
“What are you talking about?!?” I shouted continuously wiping my tears away. She would have to return to the heavens. “I have stay here to wrought alone whilst you go be with the gods!” I cried out. Pain in my voice racking my body.
Sarah… no that’s not her name is it? Daeda, the goddess of knowledge, held my chin and forced me to look up at her.
Gods she was beautiful. Every aspect of her. Her dark brown hair floated, an holy light flowed around her, her regular clothing dissolving into the golden and green dress that moved with minds of its own. A crown of glowing spheres, her crown of all knowing eyes around her head.
“I’ll help you remember too, my protector.”
She kissed me and I felt power surge through me.
Then I remembered.
(Author’s Note: I apologize if there’s any typos. I’m typing this on my phone whilst at work). | “Why do you want a divorce?”
“I just don’t think this marriage is going to work anymore.”
“Why? Just because I’m actually a god. So what if I can never die because I don’t age, that’s means we can spend forever together.”
“Is not that.”
“Oh really, it’s because of the super strength, isn’t it. Honey, just because I can crush steel with my barehand and lift our house up with a finger doesn’t mean you need to fear me.”
“No.”
“What just cause I no longer need sex?”
“I’m asexual. I’m divorcing your because I’m the Devil from da bible.” | |
[WP] Your spouse was actually an amnesiac god that had both their powers and memories sealed away years ago. Now the seal is broken and they have regained their godhood. They're curious why you're not as happy as they are about this. | Please be gentle, this is my first time posting and english isn´t my first language. Here goes:
Well... Fuck.
I mean, I was waiting for it all to come crashing down on me. But I figured it would be a bit more mundane in nature?
You know, them seeing how they could do so much better than lil´ ol´ me over here or me making some stupid goddamn mistake I couldn´t fix. But I sure didn´t have "Your beloved partner of ten years bursts into flame and ascends into heaven while going for a stroll" on my Bingo-Card.
And so I stood there, for God -Oh damn, is that them now?- knows how long, completely blindsided by what had just transpired. When I came back to myself, I turned around and made my way back home. Our home. Just my home now, I guess.
Back there, I sat down on the bed and just... took my head into my hands and started crying. I mean, what else do you do in a situation like this?
And then, all of a sudden, the sun rose. In the middle of our/my bedroom.
"Hey."
I kept looking at the ground. I didn´t think i could look at them anyway, no matter that i probably would have burnt my eyes out if i did.
"I´m really sorry, that was... a surprise. I tried coming back as soon as possible."
"Yeah, well, congrats. I guess you came by to say your farewells?"
"Wait, wha... Oh, damnit this light is annoying the fuck out of me. Give me a second."
The light dimmed.
I raised my head and looked at them. I don´t know what i expected, honestly. Not that they were still the same. Still the same face, with the smile on it that made me fall in love years ago. Wrinkles around the eyes from all the times we almsot died from laughter when one of us did something goofy.
"I mean, what else would you be here for? I appreciate it, honestly. Didn´t expect to see you again."
"What the fuck are you talking about?" They raised their hand. The small ring glittered softly. "We made a promise, you moron. Do you not want to keep it?"
"Oh, come on. How am i supposed to? You´re... Whatever you are now. A god, angel, otherworldly being... And me? I´m nothing. I didn´t deserve you before, I sure don´t deserve you now!"
"Stop it! I´m not having this talk with you AGAIN. I. CHOSE. YOU. You do not get to make this decision for me. And this." They gestured at themselves. "This does not change a thing. I still love you. I still choose you. Do you still do the same?"
"I... Yes. You know I do."
"Good, so stand up. I´ve got so much to show you. And when we´re done, I have a gift for you."
They offered me a hand. | I met her on a rainy day, and like in those old romantic movies, she was drenched and unmoving. I thought she lost someone really close to her, but it turns out she lost someone more important - herself.
The despair I held for so long was cleared even with just that distant yet warm look in her eyes. For a long time, I thought I would simply stay the same way, but ever since that day, a spark of flame rose from within my heart.
Her smile continued to heal my heart as days and months passed, and while her memories never came back, we made new ones in return.
With each embrace, the ember grew, and with this stronger flame I felt her own empowered. And soon enough, years had passed, and her demeanor became ever more lovely.
I thought it was a simple result from the love we cumulated over the past decade. Her beauty never faded, not even a wrinkle shown. And in her embrace, that became ever more comfortable, I really thought it was simply love.
Then she confessed.
Her memories had slowly returned, and this was the day I learned that she was a goddess. In fact, she was the goddess of hope. She told me a story unbelievable to a simple man like me, where she was from, and how she ended up losing her memories and most of her power.
But all of that slipped my mind because of the one thing I never wanted to hear again - that she had to leave.
-
"I have to return and bring warmth to everyone again. You know this, my love, you've felt it."
I did feel it, but to leave me just for that.
"Your nature is good, my love. I know that look in your eyes and you want to be selfish, but I know who you truly are. You are the strongest human I know. Especially when you survived that- "
"No."
I didn't want to hear it again, to remember it again.
"But, my love- "
"Are you really so sure that gods are even needed anymore? The world hadn't changed so much even when you were gone."
She looked at me with those eyes again. Just like earlier when she talked about the reason for her returning.
"The Creator God had decreed it so. I am to return even if the ember of hope was not extinguished all these years. I still have to keep it safe, I have to keep its embers ignited for all of humanity."
-
It was unfair and I continued to reason with her, and finally even argued for the first time, my eyes were aflame yet she still had that look of sadness.
But she still had to leave, and she did. Exhausted from talking the entire day, I told her to give me a day, and she acquiesced. We slept together that night, and I thought to once more reason with her once I woke up. But as if she knew I would do that, she disappeared the next day.
She left me a note asking for forgiveness, and I left the note stained with tears right where she left it.
The day she left I secluded myself in my home, our home. But it was a bad idea to do that. Every corner, every room, I saw her image. Memories of her had kept me imprisoned, slowly spiraling into despair.
-
"Hello, old friend."
I talked to the mirror in front of me.
"You seem so much older than before. Have you gone and, heh, hoped again?"
He scoffed at the word hope, as if to mock me.
"Have I gone insane?"
I was talking to a mirror, surely this was just a nightmare. Surely. Because the image on the mirror was no longer me, it was a warped version of me.
"You are not insane, dear friend. Not in the least. You are simply above all. You always were."
His last words struck me, memories I buried returned to me as I grasped my head. Not even a second passed and I recovered, but not to the me she knew.
"I see."
Tears fell from my eyes as blood dripped from my nose and ears. Memories flooded my mind, of a time long ago, of a world much different from today. A world that I will endeavor to remake.
"This time, my goddess, this time you will stay forever."
After all, what hope will there be for her to protect if even the heavens fall to despair? | |
[WP] Your spouse was actually an amnesiac god that had both their powers and memories sealed away years ago. Now the seal is broken and they have regained their godhood. They're curious why you're not as happy as they are about this. | "The word is open to me like no other, I can see the histories long lost, remember the names of forgotten brothers, and sisters. I can rebuild the kingdom of our people into something envious of these false rulers why are you not happy beloved?"
My omnipotent, wife?
They were kind of beyond gender right now, but I'm gonna stick with wife for now.
She floated above me her skin covered in stars, sand pouring like rain from underneath her dress. Hundreds, no thousands? Of eyes peaking and skittering around her head staring into endless futures. Her hair occasionally waving out of the way to show her third eye on her forehead, both looking at me and away from me at the same time somehow. A large hourglass displaying millions of strands of sand and fate. Yeah, gotta admit that was pretty cool, but I had one concern in all of this...
"Alexandria, what do you want for dinner?"
"What? I know the weight of the sun from second to second, and you ask me that?" Her many eyes removing themselves from the 100 futures they saw and focusing on me angrily.
"So you know then? Right now you can shift to a human form, and we can go to a dinner of your choice?" I responded straight faced to the many winged goddess. She was radiant, and beautiful but she'd always been like that even when she was simply just my software engineer wife.
"I can answer ANY question from multiple realities, are you sure you don't want to ask me anything else? Something of precedent that could benefit our world?" The eyes wavered around her head. Some of them seeming to be avoiding a future discussion that others were almost tearfully focused on.
"Yes, bean" I said calmly. Her eyes softened immediately, she loved when I called her that. "If you can tell me what you want to eat we can celebrate your ascension"
She seemed to shift around avoiding eye contact which she was *somehow* doing with her endless giant eyes. "The point is I'm too busy bab-" was she literally shifting *stars* to avoid talking about this?
"Babe I'm asking because if you're still having issues figuring out the basic *human* things you can understand my concerns about this right?" The stars spun even faster, Yup hit a nerve.
"That's not the point Edmond, and I *do* know what I want" she smirked at me while peaking into a timeline where Babylon ruled the earth.
"No, you don't want chicken I know you don't because the meal you're thinking of isn't actually a chicken meal. You want that texture, but you don't want chicken consistency it weirds you out" I calmly responded while staring into another reality that one of her many eyeballs stared into. *Are those worms with human arms?*
"...I can't believe you're focusing on this" Alexandria said as she finally looked at me with her three main eyes. "I'm a *GODDESS* Eddie I can decide what I want to eat"
"Do it"
"I mean I don't want to right now"
"So you can't or you won't?"
"Well there goes the WORM timeline thanks for making me lose focus Eddie" she said trying to change topics. I know that's what she was doing cause I was still looking at the worm timeline, and wow they were efficient builders.
"I'm not trying to scare you love I just...you gotta be careful we have no idea what you can do. So let's take it slow, and figure it out" I reached out and gripped her giant finger in my hand.
"Thank you Eddie...you've gotten pretty wise huh?"
She said a little tearful, were those *emerald tears?* okay that's impressive. Gotta be painful, but still that's impressive.
"Yeah I know I am pretty wise and all knowing myself huh?" I said my chest puffing up in pride.
"So you know where your socks are, and your favorite rolling pin oh wise one?" She said staring at me affectionately.
"...Okay now I get why you were so mad" | A wild grin tugged at his face as the electricity crackled at his fingertips.
"Right? Huh?" He wiggled his fingers watching his partner's expression...but they just stared at him. "You're...not...psyched." He said and as the disappointment filled his words the sparks at his fingertips extinguished.
"I mean..." His partner began, running a hand through their cropped hair. "It's a lot to process."
Not a "HOLY SHIT" or an "I knew it!" just a quiet thoughtful expression on their face. They'd been together 10 years. He'd been on earth for 15. 5 years of feeling like an incapable outcast with no family and he had found them...this strange quiet being. Also alone. Also confused. They could relate to feeling as if they were a different species altogether. Suddenly they weren't alone.
The key difference was that he *was a different species*. And now he remembered. His head was swimming with the realization that he was so much more than this small being before him and *yet*...10 years of memories...of being cared for. Of being loved as an equal.
No. He was a **god**. And he had expected the mortal to react accordingly. But they were not on their knees in awe, they were not even delighted by the electricity at his fingertips. They were just staring at him, blankly.
​
"You need to process." The god said after a moment of silence. "How human."
Al frowned at him. "See, that's the kind of thing that makes a person uncomfortable."
"I'm a *God,* Al. You're supposed to feel a little uncomfortable."
​
"That's the thing I can't wrap my brain around. Superpowers? Sure. But...you're so..." They paused.
He felt irritation flare in him. "Go on, *say it*."
​
"Non-confrontational."
​
He stared at them and felt the electricity spark at his fingers as his irritation morphed into anger. "And *you* think that makes me *too weak to be a god?**"*
Al frowned. "Weak?! No. You're...so kind and careful and thoughtful... I just...can't think of a time where I heard of a non-confrontational god."
"I'm not a god of war." He snapped, but his head was pounding now.
Memories were spiraling and tangling themselves suddenly in his mind. God...human...god...human.
It would be so much easier if he could remember more than flashes. Transforming, shifting, running, sparking electricity, and...battling? No. He never fought outright. But he was still more powerful than humans. They were ants. His mother had said -
​
**No.** Al was not an ant. An ant couldn't make a person sob and beg for forgiveness. An ant couldn't hold happiness between their teeth. An ant couldn't make a god feel loved. Feel safe.
"I must leave." He said suddenly, standing.
Al took half a step forward and stopped. "Please don't. I'm sorry. It's a lot to process and it's going to take time but I don't want you to leave - I'm not even sure if it's safe for you to leave. Please. I...I just need you to stay. ease."
​
*Don't leave.* Said Brian's voice in the back of the god's head. He stared at Al's face. An old instinct kicked in. *Don't kill them either.*
"I'll return." He said and suddenly shifted into the shadows.
Al stared at the table's shadow as it morphed and returned to normal before their knees gave way and they found themself on the couch. "Return from where...?" They whimpered and buried their face in their hands. And then, unable to contain their feelings any longer they pounded their fist into the couch.
***"What the fuck just happened?"*** | |
[WP] Your spouse was actually an amnesiac god that had both their powers and memories sealed away years ago. Now the seal is broken and they have regained their godhood. They're curious why you're not as happy as they are about this. | What happened?
Pain.
I try to open my eyes.
I'm.. on the ground? Yes. I'm laying against our living room wall. The one that has the kitchen on the other side, the one we painted yellow a few years back. It's a nice shade of yellow.
It's so.. bright. Was there an explosion? A fire? Where is Kat? Panic sets in.
WHY DO YOU LOOK SAD MY LOVE
The voice is like a thousand jet engines inside my skull. My eyes start heating up. It's a miracle my eardrums haven't exploded.
"What is happening?" I yell over the tidal wave of whispers and screams and an unbearable humming that somehow attempts to make me fall apart at the seams.
The creature in the room with me emits a concerned energy now. Our interior design is lazily hovering towards her. The couch is struggling to lift from the ground, but the lamps and books and candles are starting to form an orbit. More is coming from the kitchen.
PLEASE DO NOT BE ALARMED I FORGOT WHO I WAS BUT NOW I REMEMBER IT IS TIME TO REJOICE
"Kat..?" It feels redundant trying to overcome the noise. Kat always knew what I was thinking anyhow, maybe this new version does too.
NOT NEW, OLD
Okay. Okay. So my wife is a million blinking stars wrapped in radiant light and has her own gravitational pull. We can overcome this. Our couples therapist always said that we have to accept the new.. or old.. sides of our spouse with support and joy. Rejoice indeed. I sit up with new resolve.
WHAT IS "WIFE"
You.. you are Wife. My.. wife?
I AM NEEDED ELSEWHERE I AM SORRY MORTAL I HAVE BEEN SLEEPING AND NOW I AM AWAKE AND I HAVE MATTERS TO ATTEND TO
I speak out loud even though I know I don't need to. I need to say it. "Kat, we have come too far to separate like this. Just because you have things to do doesn't mean you can just abandon me!" My nose gushes blood. My teeth are loosening in my gums.
She looks puzzled. Or at least I think so. Our utensils stop revolving around her and just hover in place instead.
IT WAS TEMPORARY EVERYTHING IS TEMPORARY YOUR FRAGILE BODY WILL INCINERATE IF I STAY I SHOULD NOT STAY
So that's how it is. "It's okay. I wasn't using it anyway." I glance at the bed in the corner of the living room. It's also moving towards her, as is the stand with the drip and the heart monitor. A pill bottle has opened and the tablets are doing pirouettes in the air.
"Can you stay? Just for a moment? I don't want to do this alone."
Kat seems to consider it.
For a moment I see the woman I have loved, her smile, the way she's supported me these last difficult, sick years gushes back to me. She looks just like the day I met her. Just for a moment. Then the stars return. They are weeping.
VERY WELL, MORTAL
She lowers herself on the level of the floor. The objects in her orbit move to circle us both as she places herself next to me.
I can feel my body drawn to hers. My particles are coming loose and pulling towards her eternal sky. My skin, my bones, each and every organ are giving up but there is no fear. The pain I've felt stops for the first time. I can't remember when there wasn't pain. I put my head on her shoulder and breathe in one last time.
Thank you, my love. | I look at my wife. With her glowing floating body, sitting cross-legged. It doesn't bother me so much honestly. The eight arms coming out of the side of her body is a bit much. I'm trying not to freak out but I don't think I am being unfair by being shocked, right? This is kinda a big thing to drop on a person, isn't it?
She rolls her eyes at me. That same judgemental eye-roll she gives me when I forget her birthday or leave my socks all over the bedroom floor. Ugh, I can already feel the fight coming. She's going to start yelling at me again. Bringing up old shit probably too. Reminding me of all of my past failings, like when she caught me staring at Tiffany's ass at that wedding. Only this time the fight will be different. This time she's a God.
She starts lecturing me about how I should be more supportive. How she always felt caged in and now she finally feels free. She reminds me of the time she wanted to take a bigger role on at the shelter but I wasn't supportive back then either. See, I knew she would bring up old shit! Goddamn, classic Bethany.
I tell her I will be supportive, I'm just worried about how things might change. Like are we still going to have date nights on Wednesdays, or is she going to be too busy doing god shit? Or what about managing the finances. I mean, I can take it on, but I already do like most of the chores around the house and it seems unfair if I have to take on more just because she now has a universe to manage.
She promises me that nothing will change. She now has access to millions of years of knowledge and wisdom now that her memory is back, and will be able to handle both her duties as a god and a wife.
I tell her if that is true, than I support her godhood. I am honestly still a little skeptical, and perhaps it shows on my face because at that moment she turns me into a bottle of lotion. She says she will change me back when I decide to change my attitude. Wow, she still doesn't know how stubborn I can be, I decide I am staying a bottle of lotion forever out of spite. Ha! I guess I showed her. | |
[WP] Your spouse was actually an amnesiac god that had both their powers and memories sealed away years ago. Now the seal is broken and they have regained their godhood. They're curious why you're not as happy as they are about this. | "I mean, honey, look at the kitchen!" I guesture to the cabinets, scorched to bits, some still hanging by the remains of their metled hinges. The granite countertops are shattered. The walls look like a demo crew just went on break. "And this was because the pasta water wouldn't boil fast enough!"
"Well!" They shout, throwing their hands up in frustration, volts jumping between their fingertips as they run their hand through their hair. "What *exactly* do you expect from me? I *just got my memory back,* can you give me a minute to adjust? I'm *old,* babe. It's a lot to remember at once."
I sigh and look at the floor, covered in splintered wood, tiles cracked, a slight breeze now coming in from the living room. I'm afraid to go look. "Can you try to adjust in the yard, please? Or maybe you have a lightning-bolt-and-hurricane-proof house hidden away somewhere?" I side-eye them and smirk. I know they didn't mean it, but damn!
They raise their eyebrows. "Actually-" CRASH! A bolt of lightning comes through the roof and the love of my life vanishes.
I run over to where they had been standing and look up through the hole in the roof. "You better come back here and help me clean this up!" I yell to the sky.
I wait, looking up. The clouds are fluffy today. "They're coming back, right?" I mumble to myself. I walk toward the sink, which somehow survived their explosive anger. I mean, they've always been a little short-fused, it's just who they are. But this? This is a new level.
Suddenly, it hits me. They're not coming back. They can't. They don't want to put me in harm's way. They have to live with the other gods, wherever that is. I suddenly am having trouble swallowing.
"Well," I say to myself, "I guess I'm cleaning up this mess alone." I walk to the living room, where the window has apparently been torn from the wall. I look back to the kitchen. A cabinet door finally gives up and bounces off the broken granite on its way down to join the great building material graveyard that used to be my kitchen floor.
The breeze from the missing window suddenly feels colder and more aggressive. I can feel the tears welling against my will. I want to smash something, but I don't know what's even left to smash.
CRASH! Another bolt in the kitchen adds a new hole to the roof, bringing back the light of my life.
"You came back!" I shout, running toward them and brushing away my tears.
"Of course I did," they say, open arms closing around me. "Sorry it took me so long, I had to get my place cleaned up before I brought you over."
I look up at them. "Your place?"
They smile. "My place. Hang on!"
CRASH! | I look at my wife. With her glowing floating body, sitting cross-legged. It doesn't bother me so much honestly. The eight arms coming out of the side of her body is a bit much. I'm trying not to freak out but I don't think I am being unfair by being shocked, right? This is kinda a big thing to drop on a person, isn't it?
She rolls her eyes at me. That same judgemental eye-roll she gives me when I forget her birthday or leave my socks all over the bedroom floor. Ugh, I can already feel the fight coming. She's going to start yelling at me again. Bringing up old shit probably too. Reminding me of all of my past failings, like when she caught me staring at Tiffany's ass at that wedding. Only this time the fight will be different. This time she's a God.
She starts lecturing me about how I should be more supportive. How she always felt caged in and now she finally feels free. She reminds me of the time she wanted to take a bigger role on at the shelter but I wasn't supportive back then either. See, I knew she would bring up old shit! Goddamn, classic Bethany.
I tell her I will be supportive, I'm just worried about how things might change. Like are we still going to have date nights on Wednesdays, or is she going to be too busy doing god shit? Or what about managing the finances. I mean, I can take it on, but I already do like most of the chores around the house and it seems unfair if I have to take on more just because she now has a universe to manage.
She promises me that nothing will change. She now has access to millions of years of knowledge and wisdom now that her memory is back, and will be able to handle both her duties as a god and a wife.
I tell her if that is true, than I support her godhood. I am honestly still a little skeptical, and perhaps it shows on my face because at that moment she turns me into a bottle of lotion. She says she will change me back when I decide to change my attitude. Wow, she still doesn't know how stubborn I can be, I decide I am staying a bottle of lotion forever out of spite. Ha! I guess I showed her. | |
[WP] Your spouse was actually an amnesiac god that had both their powers and memories sealed away years ago. Now the seal is broken and they have regained their godhood. They're curious why you're not as happy as they are about this. | “Were you angry with her?”
“Of course I was. It’s tough you know. You think you know someone and then suddenly it turns out they aren’t who you thought they were. It broke my heart. And the worst part was she couldn’t understand why I was angry. We had a massive fight. Fights in fact.”
“I can understand.”
“She couldn’t. It’s tough I suppose. She was a god after all. Till the curse had suppressed things for her, she was an ordinary human. But when the seal broke, she ascended. The real her, the god, rose from the ashes of her humanity. You see it’s easy for us humans. We are all a bit of drama queens. Crying about how difficult our lives are. But imagine being able to hear and see the problems and issues facing every single human on this earth. Not only that, but having the ability to fix some of them but being bound by rules. She lost her warm nature. Her smile was gone. She tried to put on a fake one for my sake but I knew. If there’s two things I was ever good at, it was at appraising art and knowing how she really felt.”
“True love, I suppose.”
“As true as can be. I do wonder though. Would I still have fallen for her if I knew about her… you know… condition.”
“Would you have?”
“Probably. In fact, yeah I would have. Absolutely. She was always my goddess.”
“That’s sweet.”
“It’s true. When I really think about it, my anger at her stemmed from my helplessness you know. She was something much more. I was nothing to her anymore. She had bigger problems. I was of no use to her.”
“That would’ve been tough. Did you try to get her to stay?”
“All the time. I didn’t want her to go. But she had a duty you know. She called me selfish. And if I’m being honest I was selfish. The worst part was that I could see it. I knew I was being selfish. I knew I should let her go. I was just too weak.”
“Weak?”
“Yeah. She had to go, you see. She didn’t have an option. Instead of supporting her, I wanted her to forgo her duty and keep her with me. She explained to me how important she was to maintain balance here on earth. If she stayed away from her real home, humanity would continue to suffer. She cried a lot you know. In those days. Cause she was suffering too. She was in pain. But I was still weak.”
“Surely she understood.”
“She did. She was nothing if not really smart. Out of the countless things she was amazing at, the foremost was knowing how I really felt. She knew I was afraid.”
“Afraid?”
“Yeah. For years, she had been my life, you know. If I look back at my life I haven’t done much. She was the best thing about my life. Without her, what was I? Nothing.”
“That’s tough.”
“It was. That’s why she gave me a gift while leaving. Two gifts really. She said she’d come visit me regularly. This was our spot, you know. She said that when I was particularly sad, I should come sit here. Bring her favourite flowers and she’d show me a sign she was here. Even today. See that rainbow in the distance. That’s her sign to me. She’s still there watching over me. I’m not alone. And that thought helped me not to break down.”
“And the other?”
“Huh?”
“You said two gifts.”
“Oh right. Sorry I got lost in the rainbow. The other gift, the bigger gift. If that rainbow allowed me to carry on, the other gift actually made it so I could be happy again. Have hope. Love. Everything good about my life. She gave me you.”
“Dad, come on.”
“It’s true. I know it sounds a bit cheesy. But it’s true. Before ascending to heaven she left me a piece of her soul as our dear daughter.”
“Cute.”
“Yes you are sweetly.”
“So I believed all of this when I was younger?”
“Sure did. If there’s two things your dad was ever good at, it was cooking great food and making up good stories.”
Caroline looked at her father, noticing the moist eyes as he looked off into the distance. She had been away at college for the past few years and had missed her mother’s death anniversary. She put her head on his shoulder. “We should go. It’s getting colder.”
“Yeah. We should. But before we do, take a look.”
Caroline followed his gaze. A double rainbow smiled at her and she felt a childlike joy rising somewhere deep within her. “Mom…”
Gary placed his wife’s favourite flowers on the ground. She had died during childbirth and he had tried to do his best to keep her alive for their daughter using various stories. This was the one that had stuck. He gave a one last look at the double rainbow, sending a silent prayer to the only god he really and truly had faith in. For he had told this story so many times that he had come to believe it a bit himself. | I look up at her as she now stands even taller than before.
"What am I supposed to do now? There is now no way that I can be supportive in your life anymore." She looks back, her divine face shining brilliantly, "What do you mean?" I can hardly face her when I speak, "Think about it. You don't need me to cook for you, you don't need to sleep, there's just nothing I can do for you anymore."
She pauses for a moment and then smiles, "Sure, I can't say you're wrong, I don't need food, I don't have to eat or drink water to sustain myself, I have all that I need...except for one thing. If you weren't still with me, then why would any of my powers matter?"
I look back at her confused, "What are you talking about? You could level a city just because you want to! You could save the world from hunger and wars and do whatever you please! Just, *sighs* I..." She smiles again and takes the form of her old human body "Even with all of my power, you're still the only thing I really want."
I close my eyes and decide I might as well sit down as I think to myself, 'I just can't bring myself to think of why, why am I so important? I can't give her anything, I can't do something that she can't already do. I have nothing, I am nothing.' She walks over and puts her arms around my shoulders, leaning against my back as I sit down.
I sigh, "Please, don't mistake me, I am so happy for you, but me being selfish I just don't see why you need me anymore. *I turn and look away from her direction, feeling sorry for myself* I'll just be alone again."
She nuzzles my neck, "You'll never be alone again, I want you because I love you. There is nothing that I can do to prove that if you don't accept it as it is." I close my eyes and take a deep breath, "Okay then, if you want me, then who am I to say no?"
I take another deep breath and face her, " If you truly want me, then I will give you all that I have. I only hope that my love can be enough." She smiles and kisses my cheek, "You're all I've loved since I first saw you, and no divine power or immortality will ever change that."
I smile before looking back to her, "Immortality?!" She looks back, slightly confused at why I seem worried, "Yes, immortality, I can't die by aging." I look back, trying my hardest not to think about it, "But, if you're immortal, then... you'll lose me one day." She smiled, "You forget who you're talking to."
I move so that I can stand back up, getting slightly dizzy as I do. She stands up with me and holds my arm to keep me steady, smiling as she watches me. She then speaks softly as she stares into my eyes, "You may be human now, but I can keep you with me." I stare back into her eyes as I regain my balance, "You can make me immortal?"
She looks away just slightly, "Sort of, it's like how
other gods have pets." I look at her rather confused "Pets?" "Don't think about it like that! Just...ummm...think about it like companionship! Yeah! You'll be my companion! For... eternity."
I watch her and smile as she tries to comfort me through this, "It's okay" I take her hands in mine, "I'd love nothing else but to be your 'companion' for eternity." She laughs as we hold hands and stare into each other's eyes, "So, what should we do first?" | |
[WP] A dragon was raised by a farmer and their flock of chickens. Other dragons are having a hell of a time trying to convince this dragon that they aren't just a very big chicken. | Seldon wasn’t having it.
“For the last time, NO.” he snorted a thin haze of fire out with the last word as his temper was starting to engage. It briefly ignited a small patch of grass, scattering the nearby pigs, who squealed in alarm as they scuttled away.
“I’m not flying off with the two of you on your usual evening… soiree, or whatever you call it, to rain death and destruction down on the latest poor creatures to become the focus of your torment.” Seldon swiveled a self-righteous glare between Bartosz and Boudicca as he finished. “My opinion of your questionable pastime hasn’t changed since the last time you were here. Now go away.”
Boudicca, the larger of Seldon’s two visitors, rested back on her rear legs as she examined her front talons. She glanced briefly to her right at Bartosz. “Soiree? Did he say *soiree*?”
“Didn’t know chickens around here spoke French.” Bartosz chortled. He lounged fully on the ground to Boudicca’s left, making no effort to hide his hungry stare aimed at the squealing pigs.
Boudicca’s mouth twitched into a lizardly grin. “Just one very *educated* chicken.”
“Stop making fun of my species!” Seldon burst out, craning his neck in their direction as he shouted angrily. This served to show off his fresh coat of newly-grown adolescent dragon scales very nicely; shades of green, ranging from a deep emerald along his spine to a pearlescent lime-cream at his throat. “I was raised a chicken, my parents are chickens, therefore I’m a chicken! NOT A DRAGON!!” Another gout of flame popped out of his mouth as he finished, this one larger than the last; Seldon seemed not to notice.
Bartosz rolled his eyes. Boudicca simply stared at her talons a moment longer. “Chickens don’t breathe fire, dear,” she finally said before looking up. “You were *meant* for this. The human who found your egg and raised you is long since dead and gone. I repeat - your egg was *found*, not laid by one of your…little barnyard friends,” this last was said with an undisguised tone of disdain. She paused, giving the younger dragon a searching look. “What remains here, still, to tie you to this place?” Then, a little more gently: “Come. Join us. Just this once. Come with us and see for yourself what it’s like to enjoy your true nature.” Her eyes were on him, expectant.
“My *human* may be dead but my *family* is not.” Seldon said with finality. “Now go away and leave me alone. I’m busy.”
“Save your breath, sister. He’s not ready.” Bartosz yawned, stood up and spread his wings out. His coloring, as well as Boudicca’s, stretched from a murky brown along his spine to a pale tan on his neck and belly - more muted than Seldon’s - the color of adults. Both senior reptiles were half again as tall as Seldon, who was just now reaching his neck over the primary chicken coop as he muttered about storm damage and repairs, pointedly ignoring them.
Bartosz continued, addressing the younger dragon: “You know what you are, even if you’re not ready to admit it to yourself. But you know we’re right.” There was no anger in his words, and only a hint of exasperation. “You’re suffering from an illness. Our kind can experience it if we’re left on our own to grow up among another species -“ pointedly looking at the chickens nearby - “not our own. It’s a sickness of the mind. Eventually, you can grow out of it…but you have to be willing to try.”
He waited, hoping for a response. There was none; the younger dragon refused to so much as turn around, unwilling to acknowledge anything he had said, much less consider its possible truth.
Bartosz finally shook his head, letting loose a lengthy sigh. “We’ll come back again, when you’re a little older. Maybe one day you’ll be old enough to finally think clearly.” He thrashed his tail back and forth once, and tested the air, his nostrils flaring broadly. “It’s a fantastic night for a - what did you call it? - *soiree*.” The muscles between his wings bunched together and with a short running leap, he launched into the air, quickly clearing a small copse of trees at the western edge of Seldon’s farm.
Boudicca stared at Seldon’s back for a few moments more, anger and pity in her eyes, before taking flight as quickly as her younger brother.
Seldon refused to acknowledge this with even a glance. He continued puttering around, repairing the coop and speaking softly to the chickens brave enough to remain in his vicinity, ignoring the other dragons even as he heard the rush of wind accompanying their departure.
“I’m a chicken. I’m a chicken. *I’M A CHICKEN.*” he continued to mutter as he worked on the roof, his scales glinting brightly in the setting sunlight, his mind only allowing room for the task at hand and the mantra he kept repeating - its lack of veracity meaningless, its comforting familiarity the only thing in the world that mattered. | "I'm a chicken!" said blue.
"A what?" asked green.
"I only eat bugs." said blue.
"Dragons don't eat bugs. They eat sheep. They eat deer. Even people if that is what is available" said red.
"I do not. It is wasteful to eat large animals. I'm a chicken, and I only eat bugs. And grubs" said blue.
"If you want to know if a dragon thinks he is a chicken, you don't have to ask. He'll tell you." said green.
"That's rude." shot back blue "Eating large mammals is unjustified. Killing just for food when there is plenty of nutrition in the unintelligent bug, is morally wrong.".
"You need mammal meat" argued green. "You can't get enough red blood from insects to grow properly. You'll end up stunted. You need it to keep up your inner fire.".
"Wait, do insects even have blood?" asked red.
"That's nonsense" snapped blue. "I'm a chicken, and I get everything I need for my bright feathers and strong wings from crickets, grubs and tickets."
"I bet your fire breath doesn't work. A chicken?! You're a dragon and you should act like one. Starting with eating the farmer." mocked green.
"I'm not a dragon!." yelled blue. "I crow each morning. I roost in the trees! and I eat bugs! And stay away from the farmer. I hope you choke on a deer antler."
"Leave him alone" called purple, "if blue wants to think of himself as a chicken, he's a chicken.".
"Stupid." mumbled red. "I know a chicken when I see one, and you're not a chicken. Look at you. You don't fit in a tree, you're too big. And no one has ever heard you crow.".
"I do too! I just...keep it quiet so I don't wake you" retorted blue. "I'm a chicken, and I'm staying with the farmer. And don't eat him, he brings breakfast!". | |
[WP] Many years ago you threw a coin into a wishing well and made a wish. You weren't surprised when nothing happened so you moved on with your life, unaware that the well simply had a large backlog of wishes that it needed to grant; but now as you lay on your deathbed, your wish is finally granted. | I was laying on my death bed. Thinking back on all the good times I had over the years. I had lived a life that was full. regrets I had but not enough worth mentioning. My wife sat next to me with our newborn son cradled in her arms. My only mentionable regret would be leaving my child and wife. I reached out for my wife's hand. "Never forget, that I love you two with all my heart." I whispered. My wife sobbed harder into my pillow.
I had beaten many hardships in my life, but cancer was no joke. It was the one thing that took me down. But through my life I gave it a hell of a time. 𝘐 𝘸𝘪𝘴𝘩 𝘐 𝘩𝘢𝘥 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦 I thought as I closed my eyes and waited for death's cold embrace, But nothing happened.
I opened my eyes and looked around. My wife's face was frozen and at the foot my my bed stood tall, stunningly beautiful woman with an other worldly aura to her. He's clothes sparkled and flowed around her like water. As I looked close and realized her clothes 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦 water and the sparkles in it were coins.
"Hello, Mark" she said in an ethereal melodic voice "I'm sorry I couldn't reach out to you sooner I've been busy. how have you been?" She asked.
"Excuse me?" I responded in surprise. "Are you here to finally take me to the afterlife?"
"Afterlife? Oh no, no, no, I'm here to grant you wishes Mark."
"So what are you like a genie or something? I asked
"No, I am the embodiment of a wishing well, one you threw coins into. And now I'm here to grant them" she said. "As I recall you had wished for a body that was strong and didn't fall prey to disease and you wishes for time manipulation, is that correct?"
𝘐 𝘥𝘰𝘯'𝘵 𝘧𝘶𝘤𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 I thought. I must have made those wishes years ago and forgot. This must be a last minute death bed hallucination. So I decided to run with it.
"Yes that's right" I said "when will they start taking effect" I asked jokingly
"Right now" she said. She snapped her fingers and I woke up in my bed, 4 years into the past. | I awoke with a loud gasp, clutching at my chest. I died--of that I was absolutely certain. I felt my heartbeat slow to a crawl and eventually stop. So where the hell was I?
As I looked around, I could clearly see that this definitely was not my hospital suite. I was laying in some sort of bed-pit covered in deerskins and a quilt, sitting in the middle of a cave. There was someone else in the bed with me, head buried under the covers and their steady breathing making it rise and fall like a bellows. It was then that I noticed the golden glint on the nightstand.
I reached out and picked up the shiny thing. It was a golden coin with the image of a tree on it. I turned it around and saw someone had put writing on the other side: "Sorry For The Wait". A memory from a lifetime ago came rushing back to me the moment I laid eyes on the coin.
When I was fourteen, I created my own version of the world of Grimm's fairy tales. A world that tempered the sugary-sweet incarnations Disney whipped up into something more palatable. A world where Prince Charming was a bisexual duelist and socialite, Goldilocks was adopted by the Three Bears, and Sleeping Beauty and Snow White settled down in a cottage in the woods together. For three years, it was my obsession--so much so that I tossed a coin into a well and made a wish to be transported into my creation. And now I guess I was really here.
The person next to me stirred and rose up from the covers. I managed not to gasp as my bedmate revealed herself to be a naked wolf woman with a visibly pregnant belly. The wolf yawned and stretched out with a drowsy, "You okay, Luna? Why'd you scream?"
I recalled that in my universe, Little Red Riding Hood was a ranger who patrolled the forest with her werewolf wife Badyah. I reached out to gently stroke Badyah's belly and softly say, "Yeah, I'm okay. I just had a nightmare. You were gone, and I was dying all alone. It really scared me."
Badyah let out a little whimper and opened her arms. "C'mere baby girl." I scooted into Badyah's embrace and let the softness of her fur envelop me. She kissed the top of my head and whispered, "That is never gonna happen, you hear me? I'm gonna snuggle with you until the end of the world, and another three years after."
I heard a loud skittering across the cave floor as I leaned into Badyah. A gaggle of wolf pups ran into the cave and into the bed-pit, followed by two other wolf women. As I gazed up at the pack that surrounded me, I remembered I also gave Little Red two other wives and a whole bunch of children. I had a thing about making characters with really big, loving families.
The other wolves, Willow and Briar, happily plopped into the bed with me and Badyah. Willow leaned back against the pillows as she said, "Everything okay, Luna?"
I nodded. "Yeah, I just had a nightmare--"
The pups gasped. In an instant, the pups had leaped into the bed and snuggled up with all of us. I came under fire from a flurry of kisses and a disjointed chorus of voices saying, "It's okay, mama! Don't cry!" I put in an infinitesimal amount of effort to get my kids to stop as I laughed and cried out, "No, guys, guys! I'm okay! I'm fine!"
Briar pressed my face into her chest in response. "I'm sorry my love, but this is a very serious condition. Asymptomatic or otherwise, nightmare-itis must always be immediately treated with copious amounts of snuggles and loving."
I rolled my eyes and replied, "Alright, never let it be said I don't take my health seriously. Get in here, you big bunch of fuzzy dum-dums. Give mama some love."
As the cluster of fur and kisses cocooned me, I closed my eyes and silently gave thanks for the wish I made so long ago. | |
[WP] You never pushed your limits, keeping to yourself to fly under the radar because those who stood out had to fight. You aren't a coward you just wish for a simple life and would like to keep it that way. Until you were challenged to fight to the death... you didn't hold back this time. | Most people think that the interplay of power and responsibility means that you have to put yourself in the line of danger for others, to fight monsters calling themselves men, and to defy nature's own wrath so that others might live to see another day. They want you to be a martyr, to abandon any thought of living a normal life like them. To use your powers to improve and preserve their own little worlds.
I never wanted that. I just wanted the life that a normal person in my circumstances could readily achieve. I needed no fame, no fortune, no glory. I didn't desire recognition or deification. I simply wanted to be left alone and to gently guide my garden as it grew.
But then the war came.
It spared the city I called home, at least physically, but it changed things. It changed how people treated each other, especially those of anything resembling a foreign culture. My garden suffered the attacks of paranoia and intolerance over and over. I repaired and replaced and replanted. I denied myself the anger I was justifiably entitled to.
The only responsibility that power brings is not to abuse it. To not become a monster like so many others have and will become. I refused to let my emotions push me onto that all too well trodden path.
They burned my garden. They killed it because it was different.
They violated my home with bricks and hammers and hatred.
They brought blade and bullet with them. They carried ignorance like a torch and drowned out my pleas with abuse and vitriol.
I never wanted to be known as a hero. I never wanted to be remembered as a monster. I just wanted to live a simple life. They were just scared. They just wanted to protect themselves.
But so did I.
I looked back at the charred heap that had once been my garden, at the shattered facade of what had once been my home. I turned away, placing the bent piece of steel that had once been a crowbar gently on the stained stone of the sidewalk. I left the grave of the life I had sought.
I don't know where I will go. But I hope they have gardens. | \-Prologue-
James Jeremiah Smith was a revered U.S Marshal, tackling outlaws and bandits left and right. One night, he was on the trail of the Whiskey Broods, a feared gang in the town of Obsidian Rock, named after the large obsidian boulder in the middle of town. He tracked them down to the obsidian mines, where their hideout presided...
James approached the mine entrance, a group of lawmen following behind. They prepared a wagon with dynamite and rode it in front of the boarded-up mine, then released the horses, and everyone backed up. James walked out of the crowd and went over to the wagon, "Everyone stand back! Lighting the fuse." James took out his lighter and opened it, igniting the dynamite, then he ran away.
The sound was deafening, and nobody could hear anything for a few minutes, well, except for Sheriff Summers, who was deaf in one ear. After everyone regained hearing, they rushed into the mine, revolvers in hand. James was ahead of the rest, and caught up with the outlaws, frantically rushing around, hoping to fix their hearing. | |
[WP] You never pushed your limits, keeping to yourself to fly under the radar because those who stood out had to fight. You aren't a coward you just wish for a simple life and would like to keep it that way. Until you were challenged to fight to the death... you didn't hold back this time. | The Gravedigger meandered through his graveyard. He grumbled at the many fresh graves as he leaned on his spade.
"The Famine has taken too many Eirenan," He groused to no one, "Soon they will look for someone to blame."
Meandering towards his hut, the emaciated man shivered at what he knew was coming.
"Shame," he grumbled, "I was happy here. Guess it's time to move on."
Continuing to use his Spade as a walking stick, he mentally calculated what he would need versus what he could actually carry. He kept coming up short.
"Looks like I ain't as fit as I used to be," He chuckled, "I got old."
"No," A voice echoed out, "You got careless abomination."
An armored man, shrouded in black stood in the Gravedigger's sanctum. A sword with the holy symbol of War glittering on its pommel hung at his belt.
Glancing behind the man, The Gravedigger snorted as he saw the flickering of torches at the gate of his home.
"You wanna clarify," The Gravedigger asked, "I'm an Abomi-what?"
"Abomination," The Man clarified, "I am Inquisitora Bern. And I know you to be a Necrowyrm that has cursed these fine people for years."
*And there it is,* The Gravedigger snarked, *As soon as things go wrong they look for my kind. They don't blame the fact that the nobles built a dam on the river they use for irrigation. Or that the villagers haven't been rotating their crops properly. Or that said nobles have been demanding more food than this place could produce at peak efficiency, let alone now. Nope has to be a Necrowyrm's fault.*
"Pretty brave of you to challenge a Necrowyrm in their sanctum," The Gravedigger stated, "or Pretty stupid."
"I have taken stock of your power," Bern shot back, "I interviewed everyone you interacted with. I know what Truths you know, how you express them, and I already examined this place while you slept. You can not bluff me."
"Well then," The Gravedigger mocked, "Turns out you're equal parts brave and stupid. Good on you. You should be proud."
Inquisitora Bern drew his blade, saluting his opponent he stepped forward.
"I would know your name," Bern scowled, "Even a thing that is birthed from death should have its name remembered. Even if only for others to curse it."
The Gravedigger smiled, "Just brave then. You're much more polite than the last three Inqusitora I interacted with. And Definitely more polite than the last five Templari. I think I'll let you live."
"Your Name," Bern snarled.
"I am just the Gravedigger," The Necrowyrm shook his head, "I was never given a name."
"Then that is what shall be recorded," Bern decreed, "Now die."
Sliding his sword from his sheath, he raised the blade before his face. Bern smiled as the blade vanished into dust.
"Haven't seen that trick in a while," The Gravedigger nodded, "The Tregeithe Devia Meratrix used the same technique. Looks like the same sword too."
"Then you know you are already dead," Bern snarled, "The metal dust has already entered your lungs."
As he whipped the sword to the side, four metal balls ripped their way from the Gravedigger's chest. The spheres reformed into the blade as the Gravedigger face-planted into the ground. Bern sighed as the Gravedigger didn't rise.
"I salute you for your politeness," Bern remarked as he sheathed his sword, "And for going to your death with dignity. After I make sure to thoroughly burn your corpse, I will attend to the actual causes of the famine. You have my word. It is what little comfort I can give. But the Necrowyrms can not be allowed to survive."
"Why?" came the raspy question, "Because parts of our life cycle are a little icky? Because we serve as officers in the Dark Lord's army whenever the agent of chaos rises? Or is it because we intuitively know the Truth of Undeath? The Hybrids are indications of bestiality, The Doppels serve as the Dark Lord's spies and assassins, and the Tregeithe have the potential to be immortal tyrants. No one kills them on site"
"How...." Bern gasped.
The Gravedigger rose to his feet as the wounds on his chest closed. Shaking himself, he answered Bern's question.
"I was born in the Graveyards of Calot," The Gravedigger explained, "I was there the *only* time Lord Knight Commander Devia used that weapon."
"That would make you..." Bern stuttered
Several thousand years old." The Gravedigger's voice continued.
The Ground began to rumble and heave as the dead answered the need of the Gravedigger. Thunder clouds began to form over his sanctum, rolling with malicious intelligence.
"I meant what I said," The Gravedigger said, "I will leave you alive. But I am leaving. You will not find me again."
The Thunder clouds moved towards the entrance, as The Gravedigger got to his feet. The power stones and rune plates woven into his clothes glowed a pale green, casting the Necrowyrm in a ghastly light. Rain poured onto the mob as The Gravedigger's legions rose, Lightning strikes scattered the peasants as the skeletons and zombies moved to push the stragglers back.
Bern fell to his knees, "How can you exist? No Necrowyrm should've been able to survive that long."
"Exactly," The Gravedigger tapped the side of his nose, "No one looks for what they don't know exists. By the way. In recognition of your politeness, I will handle the causes of the famine. You're going to have enough on your plate dealing with this mess."
Bern could only nod as the Gravedigger left. | \-Prologue-
James Jeremiah Smith was a revered U.S Marshal, tackling outlaws and bandits left and right. One night, he was on the trail of the Whiskey Broods, a feared gang in the town of Obsidian Rock, named after the large obsidian boulder in the middle of town. He tracked them down to the obsidian mines, where their hideout presided...
James approached the mine entrance, a group of lawmen following behind. They prepared a wagon with dynamite and rode it in front of the boarded-up mine, then released the horses, and everyone backed up. James walked out of the crowd and went over to the wagon, "Everyone stand back! Lighting the fuse." James took out his lighter and opened it, igniting the dynamite, then he ran away.
The sound was deafening, and nobody could hear anything for a few minutes, well, except for Sheriff Summers, who was deaf in one ear. After everyone regained hearing, they rushed into the mine, revolvers in hand. James was ahead of the rest, and caught up with the outlaws, frantically rushing around, hoping to fix their hearing. | |
[WP] You never pushed your limits, keeping to yourself to fly under the radar because those who stood out had to fight. You aren't a coward you just wish for a simple life and would like to keep it that way. Until you were challenged to fight to the death... you didn't hold back this time. | The fighters are idols.
Everyone has their favorite, people bet on every fight.
There are some countries that produce many of the best fighters, and they are some of the richest and best countries of the world.
It seems as if the whole of society is centered on the arena.
But I'm not interested.
My family taught me that it's better not to be involved, even if, or maybe especially because, of our gift. But perhaps it's a curse. I haven't decided yet.
So I have lived my life without even watching the fights. Sure, I keep up with the news so I can have that water cooler talk, but beyond that I would have no clue.
But today, the dreaded letter came. No one in the family ever wanted to see this day. I received my draft letter.
I have to be in the arena next month, fighting Emanuel, one of the most well known and dangerous fighters.
----
Today is the day. I left the house early in the morning, without saying goodbye. I know Mama and Nana would cry and possibly make me late, or even cause me to not want to go at all.
I am mentally prepared. I watched a few of my opponent's fights to get to know him a little. I still don't understand why they chose a drafted rookie to fight the favorite for the last 4 years. And it's not like we are even in the same division. Emanuel is definitely so much bigger than me. I hope the planners don't know our family gift.
--
I didn't expect the arena to be this loud. The spectators seats are packed. It's a little unnerving. I wonder how many people who know me are watching on TV? How will my life, my family's life, be different once this fight is over?
I see Emanuel walk out from his side of the arena. I stand up, walking over ready to greet him. We shake hands and listen to the fight rules, which are read at the start of every fight. I studied those in advance too. I needed to make sure I wasn't going to break them.
The bell rang, and the arena erupted in cheers. The fight had begun. I knew from my studies that Emanuel will wait for my first move. So despite our size difference, I try for some fancy moves that obviously wouldn't pan out for me, and of course they didn't. But they did put me in the perfect position.
Laying on the ground, I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and readied myself. I opened my eyes, which were now shining bright red. I opened my mouth and screamed. I could sense Emanuel's unease at my appearance, but his discomfort was just starting. Every part of my body started glowing that same shade of red, and the heat was building too. As I screamed louder, the heat grew stronger and faster.
Then it was done. I released the energy. Everything was over. My opponent was gone. Most of the arena was gone. The TV equipment was definitely gone.
My life as I knew it may be over.
But so is the fighting arena. | \-Prologue-
James Jeremiah Smith was a revered U.S Marshal, tackling outlaws and bandits left and right. One night, he was on the trail of the Whiskey Broods, a feared gang in the town of Obsidian Rock, named after the large obsidian boulder in the middle of town. He tracked them down to the obsidian mines, where their hideout presided...
James approached the mine entrance, a group of lawmen following behind. They prepared a wagon with dynamite and rode it in front of the boarded-up mine, then released the horses, and everyone backed up. James walked out of the crowd and went over to the wagon, "Everyone stand back! Lighting the fuse." James took out his lighter and opened it, igniting the dynamite, then he ran away.
The sound was deafening, and nobody could hear anything for a few minutes, well, except for Sheriff Summers, who was deaf in one ear. After everyone regained hearing, they rushed into the mine, revolvers in hand. James was ahead of the rest, and caught up with the outlaws, frantically rushing around, hoping to fix their hearing. | |
[WP] You never pushed your limits, keeping to yourself to fly under the radar because those who stood out had to fight. You aren't a coward you just wish for a simple life and would like to keep it that way. Until you were challenged to fight to the death... you didn't hold back this time. | Holding the pitchfork, will full of hay James gritted his teeth "All I ever wanted was a simple life, this little hobby farm, where I don't have to deal with your kind"
The Agent looked at him and shook his head "You should know better than to think the Government would let a class 5 power source just be allowed to exist beyond their control, now come along quietly and don't make this hard"
James sighed looked at the agent, wondering what they could in fact do to him "and If I don't?"
"You know how this works, while we may not be able to hurt you directly, given your power rating, We will kill your family, your wife, children, parents, siblings, all of which do not have powers, even your dog if you make this harder on us than is needs to be"
Look at the agent defeated like and walking over "Alright, if that is how it has to be, then that is how it has to be"
"Good choice, now I'm going to put these cuffs on you, which should neutralize your powers"
Before the agent could apply the Cuffs James garbed him, lifted him off the ground like he was nothing, glaring into his eyes for a brief moment "What makes you think, I won't or can't do the same to you, I am a class 5 power being, I could kill everyone you ever cared about, and the person next to them, and there is not a damn thing you can do to stop me?"
The agent nodded and then punched James in the face, knocking him back and breaking his grip "That is why we send Class 4 or higher to deal with people like you Mr Grimback, because you just don't want to make things easy, and while you might be stronger than I am, trust me, we have Class 5's that can and will stop you, so, I'll excuse your little outburst if you law down now"
James growled and moved faster than the agent could even believe, driving his hand into the agents chest, crushing the charged armor like it was wet paper. "Everyone, You ever loved" Was that my threat? ahh.. I'll just kill everyone"
Several more agents arrived, flying under their own power, and now taking aim at James "Drop the Agent, Target 6538" the one in charge said.
"Sure" James growled out as he threw the agent into the ground, shattering their every bone and then stepping on them to ensure they didn't live through it "Any further Requests?"
Shots were fired, flame, acid, even atomic denotations rang out across the farm till only the Agent in command and James still stood, "I have no idea how you survived those uranium rounds Mr Grimback, but I assure, we are evenly matched, there is no way you can win this, more are coming, and you will succumb"
James nodded as if agreed "About that" he said as he moved even faster and grabbed the agent by the throat before the man could move "I'm not a Class 5"
The agent kicked James with all he had, right in the groin, a blow that sent shockwaves through the area and James didn't even flinch. "How?" the agent said "Class 5 is the strongest rating, how did you shrug that off?"
James pinned the agent to the ground, slowing crushing his windpipe "I was holding back when they were testing us in school" as the agent slowly blacked out "I was holding back by a lot" the agent went limp and James stood back up to more agents arriving.
"Always... Always am I forced to fight when all I sought was a peaceful life of coexistence" James let out a long deep sigh as he rose up to face the threat. Blood, Violence, Death, and until finally the whole planet split asunder, James floating there among the debris of the once thriving planet, now just chucks and dirt and death floating in space.
Looking off to space as a tear rolled down his face, the flesh sliding off their face, as James, the human, façade faded away, just one of the many identities the being had used to try and find a home. They wept internally wondering how many more worlds would force him to destroy them, before he found one that would just allow him to live a simple life. | \-Prologue-
James Jeremiah Smith was a revered U.S Marshal, tackling outlaws and bandits left and right. One night, he was on the trail of the Whiskey Broods, a feared gang in the town of Obsidian Rock, named after the large obsidian boulder in the middle of town. He tracked them down to the obsidian mines, where their hideout presided...
James approached the mine entrance, a group of lawmen following behind. They prepared a wagon with dynamite and rode it in front of the boarded-up mine, then released the horses, and everyone backed up. James walked out of the crowd and went over to the wagon, "Everyone stand back! Lighting the fuse." James took out his lighter and opened it, igniting the dynamite, then he ran away.
The sound was deafening, and nobody could hear anything for a few minutes, well, except for Sheriff Summers, who was deaf in one ear. After everyone regained hearing, they rushed into the mine, revolvers in hand. James was ahead of the rest, and caught up with the outlaws, frantically rushing around, hoping to fix their hearing. | |
[WP] You never pushed your limits, keeping to yourself to fly under the radar because those who stood out had to fight. You aren't a coward you just wish for a simple life and would like to keep it that way. Until you were challenged to fight to the death... you didn't hold back this time. | The fighters are idols.
Everyone has their favorite, people bet on every fight.
There are some countries that produce many of the best fighters, and they are some of the richest and best countries of the world.
It seems as if the whole of society is centered on the arena.
But I'm not interested.
My family taught me that it's better not to be involved, even if, or maybe especially because, of our gift. But perhaps it's a curse. I haven't decided yet.
So I have lived my life without even watching the fights. Sure, I keep up with the news so I can have that water cooler talk, but beyond that I would have no clue.
But today, the dreaded letter came. No one in the family ever wanted to see this day. I received my draft letter.
I have to be in the arena next month, fighting Emanuel, one of the most well known and dangerous fighters.
----
Today is the day. I left the house early in the morning, without saying goodbye. I know Mama and Nana would cry and possibly make me late, or even cause me to not want to go at all.
I am mentally prepared. I watched a few of my opponent's fights to get to know him a little. I still don't understand why they chose a drafted rookie to fight the favorite for the last 4 years. And it's not like we are even in the same division. Emanuel is definitely so much bigger than me. I hope the planners don't know our family gift.
--
I didn't expect the arena to be this loud. The spectators seats are packed. It's a little unnerving. I wonder how many people who know me are watching on TV? How will my life, my family's life, be different once this fight is over?
I see Emanuel walk out from his side of the arena. I stand up, walking over ready to greet him. We shake hands and listen to the fight rules, which are read at the start of every fight. I studied those in advance too. I needed to make sure I wasn't going to break them.
The bell rang, and the arena erupted in cheers. The fight had begun. I knew from my studies that Emanuel will wait for my first move. So despite our size difference, I try for some fancy moves that obviously wouldn't pan out for me, and of course they didn't. But they did put me in the perfect position.
Laying on the ground, I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and readied myself. I opened my eyes, which were now shining bright red. I opened my mouth and screamed. I could sense Emanuel's unease at my appearance, but his discomfort was just starting. Every part of my body started glowing that same shade of red, and the heat was building too. As I screamed louder, the heat grew stronger and faster.
Then it was done. I released the energy. Everything was over. My opponent was gone. Most of the arena was gone. The TV equipment was definitely gone.
My life as I knew it may be over.
But so is the fighting arena. | Most people think that the interplay of power and responsibility means that you have to put yourself in the line of danger for others, to fight monsters calling themselves men, and to defy nature's own wrath so that others might live to see another day. They want you to be a martyr, to abandon any thought of living a normal life like them. To use your powers to improve and preserve their own little worlds.
I never wanted that. I just wanted the life that a normal person in my circumstances could readily achieve. I needed no fame, no fortune, no glory. I didn't desire recognition or deification. I simply wanted to be left alone and to gently guide my garden as it grew.
But then the war came.
It spared the city I called home, at least physically, but it changed things. It changed how people treated each other, especially those of anything resembling a foreign culture. My garden suffered the attacks of paranoia and intolerance over and over. I repaired and replaced and replanted. I denied myself the anger I was justifiably entitled to.
The only responsibility that power brings is not to abuse it. To not become a monster like so many others have and will become. I refused to let my emotions push me onto that all too well trodden path.
They burned my garden. They killed it because it was different.
They violated my home with bricks and hammers and hatred.
They brought blade and bullet with them. They carried ignorance like a torch and drowned out my pleas with abuse and vitriol.
I never wanted to be known as a hero. I never wanted to be remembered as a monster. I just wanted to live a simple life. They were just scared. They just wanted to protect themselves.
But so did I.
I looked back at the charred heap that had once been my garden, at the shattered facade of what had once been my home. I turned away, placing the bent piece of steel that had once been a crowbar gently on the stained stone of the sidewalk. I left the grave of the life I had sought.
I don't know where I will go. But I hope they have gardens. | |
[WP] You never pushed your limits, keeping to yourself to fly under the radar because those who stood out had to fight. You aren't a coward you just wish for a simple life and would like to keep it that way. Until you were challenged to fight to the death... you didn't hold back this time. | The fighters are idols.
Everyone has their favorite, people bet on every fight.
There are some countries that produce many of the best fighters, and they are some of the richest and best countries of the world.
It seems as if the whole of society is centered on the arena.
But I'm not interested.
My family taught me that it's better not to be involved, even if, or maybe especially because, of our gift. But perhaps it's a curse. I haven't decided yet.
So I have lived my life without even watching the fights. Sure, I keep up with the news so I can have that water cooler talk, but beyond that I would have no clue.
But today, the dreaded letter came. No one in the family ever wanted to see this day. I received my draft letter.
I have to be in the arena next month, fighting Emanuel, one of the most well known and dangerous fighters.
----
Today is the day. I left the house early in the morning, without saying goodbye. I know Mama and Nana would cry and possibly make me late, or even cause me to not want to go at all.
I am mentally prepared. I watched a few of my opponent's fights to get to know him a little. I still don't understand why they chose a drafted rookie to fight the favorite for the last 4 years. And it's not like we are even in the same division. Emanuel is definitely so much bigger than me. I hope the planners don't know our family gift.
--
I didn't expect the arena to be this loud. The spectators seats are packed. It's a little unnerving. I wonder how many people who know me are watching on TV? How will my life, my family's life, be different once this fight is over?
I see Emanuel walk out from his side of the arena. I stand up, walking over ready to greet him. We shake hands and listen to the fight rules, which are read at the start of every fight. I studied those in advance too. I needed to make sure I wasn't going to break them.
The bell rang, and the arena erupted in cheers. The fight had begun. I knew from my studies that Emanuel will wait for my first move. So despite our size difference, I try for some fancy moves that obviously wouldn't pan out for me, and of course they didn't. But they did put me in the perfect position.
Laying on the ground, I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and readied myself. I opened my eyes, which were now shining bright red. I opened my mouth and screamed. I could sense Emanuel's unease at my appearance, but his discomfort was just starting. Every part of my body started glowing that same shade of red, and the heat was building too. As I screamed louder, the heat grew stronger and faster.
Then it was done. I released the energy. Everything was over. My opponent was gone. Most of the arena was gone. The TV equipment was definitely gone.
My life as I knew it may be over.
But so is the fighting arena. | The Gravedigger meandered through his graveyard. He grumbled at the many fresh graves as he leaned on his spade.
"The Famine has taken too many Eirenan," He groused to no one, "Soon they will look for someone to blame."
Meandering towards his hut, the emaciated man shivered at what he knew was coming.
"Shame," he grumbled, "I was happy here. Guess it's time to move on."
Continuing to use his Spade as a walking stick, he mentally calculated what he would need versus what he could actually carry. He kept coming up short.
"Looks like I ain't as fit as I used to be," He chuckled, "I got old."
"No," A voice echoed out, "You got careless abomination."
An armored man, shrouded in black stood in the Gravedigger's sanctum. A sword with the holy symbol of War glittering on its pommel hung at his belt.
Glancing behind the man, The Gravedigger snorted as he saw the flickering of torches at the gate of his home.
"You wanna clarify," The Gravedigger asked, "I'm an Abomi-what?"
"Abomination," The Man clarified, "I am Inquisitora Bern. And I know you to be a Necrowyrm that has cursed these fine people for years."
*And there it is,* The Gravedigger snarked, *As soon as things go wrong they look for my kind. They don't blame the fact that the nobles built a dam on the river they use for irrigation. Or that the villagers haven't been rotating their crops properly. Or that said nobles have been demanding more food than this place could produce at peak efficiency, let alone now. Nope has to be a Necrowyrm's fault.*
"Pretty brave of you to challenge a Necrowyrm in their sanctum," The Gravedigger stated, "or Pretty stupid."
"I have taken stock of your power," Bern shot back, "I interviewed everyone you interacted with. I know what Truths you know, how you express them, and I already examined this place while you slept. You can not bluff me."
"Well then," The Gravedigger mocked, "Turns out you're equal parts brave and stupid. Good on you. You should be proud."
Inquisitora Bern drew his blade, saluting his opponent he stepped forward.
"I would know your name," Bern scowled, "Even a thing that is birthed from death should have its name remembered. Even if only for others to curse it."
The Gravedigger smiled, "Just brave then. You're much more polite than the last three Inqusitora I interacted with. And Definitely more polite than the last five Templari. I think I'll let you live."
"Your Name," Bern snarled.
"I am just the Gravedigger," The Necrowyrm shook his head, "I was never given a name."
"Then that is what shall be recorded," Bern decreed, "Now die."
Sliding his sword from his sheath, he raised the blade before his face. Bern smiled as the blade vanished into dust.
"Haven't seen that trick in a while," The Gravedigger nodded, "The Tregeithe Devia Meratrix used the same technique. Looks like the same sword too."
"Then you know you are already dead," Bern snarled, "The metal dust has already entered your lungs."
As he whipped the sword to the side, four metal balls ripped their way from the Gravedigger's chest. The spheres reformed into the blade as the Gravedigger face-planted into the ground. Bern sighed as the Gravedigger didn't rise.
"I salute you for your politeness," Bern remarked as he sheathed his sword, "And for going to your death with dignity. After I make sure to thoroughly burn your corpse, I will attend to the actual causes of the famine. You have my word. It is what little comfort I can give. But the Necrowyrms can not be allowed to survive."
"Why?" came the raspy question, "Because parts of our life cycle are a little icky? Because we serve as officers in the Dark Lord's army whenever the agent of chaos rises? Or is it because we intuitively know the Truth of Undeath? The Hybrids are indications of bestiality, The Doppels serve as the Dark Lord's spies and assassins, and the Tregeithe have the potential to be immortal tyrants. No one kills them on site"
"How...." Bern gasped.
The Gravedigger rose to his feet as the wounds on his chest closed. Shaking himself, he answered Bern's question.
"I was born in the Graveyards of Calot," The Gravedigger explained, "I was there the *only* time Lord Knight Commander Devia used that weapon."
"That would make you..." Bern stuttered
Several thousand years old." The Gravedigger's voice continued.
The Ground began to rumble and heave as the dead answered the need of the Gravedigger. Thunder clouds began to form over his sanctum, rolling with malicious intelligence.
"I meant what I said," The Gravedigger said, "I will leave you alive. But I am leaving. You will not find me again."
The Thunder clouds moved towards the entrance, as The Gravedigger got to his feet. The power stones and rune plates woven into his clothes glowed a pale green, casting the Necrowyrm in a ghastly light. Rain poured onto the mob as The Gravedigger's legions rose, Lightning strikes scattered the peasants as the skeletons and zombies moved to push the stragglers back.
Bern fell to his knees, "How can you exist? No Necrowyrm should've been able to survive that long."
"Exactly," The Gravedigger tapped the side of his nose, "No one looks for what they don't know exists. By the way. In recognition of your politeness, I will handle the causes of the famine. You're going to have enough on your plate dealing with this mess."
Bern could only nod as the Gravedigger left. | |
[WP] You never pushed your limits, keeping to yourself to fly under the radar because those who stood out had to fight. You aren't a coward you just wish for a simple life and would like to keep it that way. Until you were challenged to fight to the death... you didn't hold back this time. | Blood rushing out the open wound where his left ear once resided, his right eye red as if every blood vessel in it were popped all at once, ribs crunching with every small movement, freshly deformed joints creaking, broken and shattered teeth, and yet he still was not ready to stop
"Ouch..."
The man, no, the *monster* before him stood tall and lean, grinning ear to ear with excitement
"Well? Get up. I don't got all day to just sit and watch you die."
Forcing himself to stand, the broken hero rose and began his speech
"Must've taken you years to get this strong... This good at fighting... To reach this point... I thought you only attacked the strongest of folks? I'm asking cause you made a pretty sharp bee line to me."
The monsters grin grew wider, almost inhumanly so
"Truth be told, I just wanted an easy fight today. I've been getting my ass kicked pretty hard lately and needed a warm up before I fight someone stronger than you"
The hero wiped blood from his head, and stared into the monsters eyes
"That so? You must've lost the lottery pretty bad then"
In a single perfect motion the distance between the two were closed, and the hero began strike the monster with as much ferocity as he could in his limitedly healed state. Once he stopped, the monster cackled
"Ha... Haha... BWHAHAHAH!!! GODDAMNIT!! FINE, BUT REMEMBER THAT I DON'T LOSE THESE FIGHTS!!"
The monster opened with a similar flurry of punches, ending with a kick to the ribs which the hero caught
"You don't lose? Good, neither do I."
The two fought for what felt like hours, each being physically destroyed only to have their bodies heal within seconds. Near the end, both fighters were winded and neither could utilize their powers any longer
"Damn... You're pretty good... Mind teachin' me that shit you did?"
The monster spoke all to casual to the man he tried killing, but the hero stood up and approached his kneeling opponent before answering
"No."
And with that, the monsters skull was crushed, ending the fight.
The End. | I sighed, an annoyed sigh at the 8’9 mucle piece of alien. I had just reached normal too. I glanced around at all the bystanders staring at me, a 5’8 human right next to this massive alien. Sadly, I am not a human. I glanced over at the friends I had managed to acquire, who don’t know that there are various religions surrounding my species and that I can lift 9000 pounds with ease. I give them a small smile before I allow my glamour to fade. My human disguise melts away and I resume my normal size as I prepare to protect the people I love, even if it means giving up the life I created.
I guess there’s not normal for me anymore anyway, and then I slaughter the alien. | |
[WP] You never pushed your limits, keeping to yourself to fly under the radar because those who stood out had to fight. You aren't a coward you just wish for a simple life and would like to keep it that way. Until you were challenged to fight to the death... you didn't hold back this time. | Holding the pitchfork, will full of hay James gritted his teeth "All I ever wanted was a simple life, this little hobby farm, where I don't have to deal with your kind"
The Agent looked at him and shook his head "You should know better than to think the Government would let a class 5 power source just be allowed to exist beyond their control, now come along quietly and don't make this hard"
James sighed looked at the agent, wondering what they could in fact do to him "and If I don't?"
"You know how this works, while we may not be able to hurt you directly, given your power rating, We will kill your family, your wife, children, parents, siblings, all of which do not have powers, even your dog if you make this harder on us than is needs to be"
Look at the agent defeated like and walking over "Alright, if that is how it has to be, then that is how it has to be"
"Good choice, now I'm going to put these cuffs on you, which should neutralize your powers"
Before the agent could apply the Cuffs James garbed him, lifted him off the ground like he was nothing, glaring into his eyes for a brief moment "What makes you think, I won't or can't do the same to you, I am a class 5 power being, I could kill everyone you ever cared about, and the person next to them, and there is not a damn thing you can do to stop me?"
The agent nodded and then punched James in the face, knocking him back and breaking his grip "That is why we send Class 4 or higher to deal with people like you Mr Grimback, because you just don't want to make things easy, and while you might be stronger than I am, trust me, we have Class 5's that can and will stop you, so, I'll excuse your little outburst if you law down now"
James growled and moved faster than the agent could even believe, driving his hand into the agents chest, crushing the charged armor like it was wet paper. "Everyone, You ever loved" Was that my threat? ahh.. I'll just kill everyone"
Several more agents arrived, flying under their own power, and now taking aim at James "Drop the Agent, Target 6538" the one in charge said.
"Sure" James growled out as he threw the agent into the ground, shattering their every bone and then stepping on them to ensure they didn't live through it "Any further Requests?"
Shots were fired, flame, acid, even atomic denotations rang out across the farm till only the Agent in command and James still stood, "I have no idea how you survived those uranium rounds Mr Grimback, but I assure, we are evenly matched, there is no way you can win this, more are coming, and you will succumb"
James nodded as if agreed "About that" he said as he moved even faster and grabbed the agent by the throat before the man could move "I'm not a Class 5"
The agent kicked James with all he had, right in the groin, a blow that sent shockwaves through the area and James didn't even flinch. "How?" the agent said "Class 5 is the strongest rating, how did you shrug that off?"
James pinned the agent to the ground, slowing crushing his windpipe "I was holding back when they were testing us in school" as the agent slowly blacked out "I was holding back by a lot" the agent went limp and James stood back up to more agents arriving.
"Always... Always am I forced to fight when all I sought was a peaceful life of coexistence" James let out a long deep sigh as he rose up to face the threat. Blood, Violence, Death, and until finally the whole planet split asunder, James floating there among the debris of the once thriving planet, now just chucks and dirt and death floating in space.
Looking off to space as a tear rolled down his face, the flesh sliding off their face, as James, the human, façade faded away, just one of the many identities the being had used to try and find a home. They wept internally wondering how many more worlds would force him to destroy them, before he found one that would just allow him to live a simple life. | I sighed, an annoyed sigh at the 8’9 mucle piece of alien. I had just reached normal too. I glanced around at all the bystanders staring at me, a 5’8 human right next to this massive alien. Sadly, I am not a human. I glanced over at the friends I had managed to acquire, who don’t know that there are various religions surrounding my species and that I can lift 9000 pounds with ease. I give them a small smile before I allow my glamour to fade. My human disguise melts away and I resume my normal size as I prepare to protect the people I love, even if it means giving up the life I created.
I guess there’s not normal for me anymore anyway, and then I slaughter the alien. | |
[WP] You never pushed your limits, keeping to yourself to fly under the radar because those who stood out had to fight. You aren't a coward you just wish for a simple life and would like to keep it that way. Until you were challenged to fight to the death... you didn't hold back this time. | Holding the pitchfork, will full of hay James gritted his teeth "All I ever wanted was a simple life, this little hobby farm, where I don't have to deal with your kind"
The Agent looked at him and shook his head "You should know better than to think the Government would let a class 5 power source just be allowed to exist beyond their control, now come along quietly and don't make this hard"
James sighed looked at the agent, wondering what they could in fact do to him "and If I don't?"
"You know how this works, while we may not be able to hurt you directly, given your power rating, We will kill your family, your wife, children, parents, siblings, all of which do not have powers, even your dog if you make this harder on us than is needs to be"
Look at the agent defeated like and walking over "Alright, if that is how it has to be, then that is how it has to be"
"Good choice, now I'm going to put these cuffs on you, which should neutralize your powers"
Before the agent could apply the Cuffs James garbed him, lifted him off the ground like he was nothing, glaring into his eyes for a brief moment "What makes you think, I won't or can't do the same to you, I am a class 5 power being, I could kill everyone you ever cared about, and the person next to them, and there is not a damn thing you can do to stop me?"
The agent nodded and then punched James in the face, knocking him back and breaking his grip "That is why we send Class 4 or higher to deal with people like you Mr Grimback, because you just don't want to make things easy, and while you might be stronger than I am, trust me, we have Class 5's that can and will stop you, so, I'll excuse your little outburst if you law down now"
James growled and moved faster than the agent could even believe, driving his hand into the agents chest, crushing the charged armor like it was wet paper. "Everyone, You ever loved" Was that my threat? ahh.. I'll just kill everyone"
Several more agents arrived, flying under their own power, and now taking aim at James "Drop the Agent, Target 6538" the one in charge said.
"Sure" James growled out as he threw the agent into the ground, shattering their every bone and then stepping on them to ensure they didn't live through it "Any further Requests?"
Shots were fired, flame, acid, even atomic denotations rang out across the farm till only the Agent in command and James still stood, "I have no idea how you survived those uranium rounds Mr Grimback, but I assure, we are evenly matched, there is no way you can win this, more are coming, and you will succumb"
James nodded as if agreed "About that" he said as he moved even faster and grabbed the agent by the throat before the man could move "I'm not a Class 5"
The agent kicked James with all he had, right in the groin, a blow that sent shockwaves through the area and James didn't even flinch. "How?" the agent said "Class 5 is the strongest rating, how did you shrug that off?"
James pinned the agent to the ground, slowing crushing his windpipe "I was holding back when they were testing us in school" as the agent slowly blacked out "I was holding back by a lot" the agent went limp and James stood back up to more agents arriving.
"Always... Always am I forced to fight when all I sought was a peaceful life of coexistence" James let out a long deep sigh as he rose up to face the threat. Blood, Violence, Death, and until finally the whole planet split asunder, James floating there among the debris of the once thriving planet, now just chucks and dirt and death floating in space.
Looking off to space as a tear rolled down his face, the flesh sliding off their face, as James, the human, façade faded away, just one of the many identities the being had used to try and find a home. They wept internally wondering how many more worlds would force him to destroy them, before he found one that would just allow him to live a simple life. | Blood rushing out the open wound where his left ear once resided, his right eye red as if every blood vessel in it were popped all at once, ribs crunching with every small movement, freshly deformed joints creaking, broken and shattered teeth, and yet he still was not ready to stop
"Ouch..."
The man, no, the *monster* before him stood tall and lean, grinning ear to ear with excitement
"Well? Get up. I don't got all day to just sit and watch you die."
Forcing himself to stand, the broken hero rose and began his speech
"Must've taken you years to get this strong... This good at fighting... To reach this point... I thought you only attacked the strongest of folks? I'm asking cause you made a pretty sharp bee line to me."
The monsters grin grew wider, almost inhumanly so
"Truth be told, I just wanted an easy fight today. I've been getting my ass kicked pretty hard lately and needed a warm up before I fight someone stronger than you"
The hero wiped blood from his head, and stared into the monsters eyes
"That so? You must've lost the lottery pretty bad then"
In a single perfect motion the distance between the two were closed, and the hero began strike the monster with as much ferocity as he could in his limitedly healed state. Once he stopped, the monster cackled
"Ha... Haha... BWHAHAHAH!!! GODDAMNIT!! FINE, BUT REMEMBER THAT I DON'T LOSE THESE FIGHTS!!"
The monster opened with a similar flurry of punches, ending with a kick to the ribs which the hero caught
"You don't lose? Good, neither do I."
The two fought for what felt like hours, each being physically destroyed only to have their bodies heal within seconds. Near the end, both fighters were winded and neither could utilize their powers any longer
"Damn... You're pretty good... Mind teachin' me that shit you did?"
The monster spoke all to casual to the man he tried killing, but the hero stood up and approached his kneeling opponent before answering
"No."
And with that, the monsters skull was crushed, ending the fight.
The End. | |
[WP] Cupid isn't a cute little bow-and-arrow weilding cherub. He's a sniper, an assassin, orchestrating all measures of meetcutes and enemies-to-lovers set ups. For the past few weeks he's been tailing you, determined to make you fall in love. It's really been quite inconvenient. | A slightly different spin on the prompt, but on reading the prompt the first line sprang to mind
“God damn it Eros” I shouted as the pellet chinked off of the wall inches from my face. As usual I didn’t expect an answer, you’d think being the god of love would mean that he’d be looking to help more than just me. Unfortunately for me however, the god of love decided that I’m priority number one. Judging from the amount of near-misses like that one, I have been for weeks. “I know you can hear me damn it. Of all the people on the planet who’d gladly take your help and you’re just doggedly determined to make my life hell.”
I turned to look around me, hoping I’d spot the idiot. Most people think of him as Cupid, the adorable little naked cherub, blonde hair, blue eyes and fluttering around on fluffy little wings wielding a bow in the shape of a heart. I’ve done my research, Eros is six feet tall, his hair is short cropped and black, absolutely no wings or bow and from what I’ve seen from artist renditions his eyes are more green than blue. If we were in America he’d be your typical frat boy but here we are - Portsmouth, Hampshire in the United Kingdom and I have a six foot tall pain in the backside.
I caught a movement out of the corner of my eye, a shadow darting across the backstreet behind the old smugglers pub. Part of me hopes he got the message and has decided to seek some other hapless idiot to make fall in love. The practical part of me knows it’ll be a couple of hours. I head toward the ferry port and the shopping centre behind it - maybe the crowd will help me lose him, it’s a long shot but at this point short of a virgin sacrifice to some other god I don’t know how to get rid of him.
“Oh but he’s hot, for a goth guy” the whispers from behind me were so run of the mill but I felt that same tingle run up my spine. The one which usually means I should duck. I leant over to look like I was tying my shoelace and heard the tell tale whistle of the pellet going over my head. I roll my eyes and look around; standing three meters away and glaring at me is my tormentor. I smile and wave, yeah it’s probably not a good idea to piss off a god but if he’s going to try and make my life hell, well an eye for an eye and all that. “There is something seriously not okay with you” I whisper, knowing he’ll hear me even above the noise of the crowd. He cocks an eyebrow, god Damn it even when he looks confused you can tell he knows he’s hot. “Why are you so against being in love?” The words slide through my mind like velvet, I stop for a second. I think that’s the first time he’s ever actually spoken to me.
“Why are you so adamant I should be?” I murmur in response. A slow shrug is the only answer I get. I stand up and head towards the sea front promenade - do I hope he’ll follow me? I don’t honestly know. But if he’s going to keep up trying I don’t want people caught in the cross fire.
“Honestly mortal, you should be thanking me. I don’t often take such an interest in one person.” The physical voice was just as melodious as the mental one. I turned to look at him, standing there in a pair of black leather trousers and a black polo neck sweater he looked like he should be on the cover of a modelling magazine. Not trying to make me fall in love. “For real Eros, what’s the deal with the obsession?”
“Thank Aphrodite for that. Your little prayer means she absolutely must do something about it. Even if that means she doesn’t get her hands dirty herself” I laugh at the scorn in his tone, his origins differ depending on who you ask and what book you read, but looking at him you can tell he’s a primal god. Not one of those born to gods. “So she sends her little lap dog?” The words spark anger in those eyes, for the first time in the weeks I’ve been cursing his name I feel fear. I really don’t want to piss this god off. I sigh “If you really must know *why* I don’t want to fall in love, it’s because I’m already in love”
“Bullshit, I’d know” I roll my eyes at the response “You know, denial isn’t just a river in Egypt” for a moment Cupid actually looks confused. I reach out and cup his face in my hand “You tell me where I’ll find someone as captivating as you and I’ll let you make it happen” Cupid backs away, the look of surprise just as genuine as his confusion. “Th-that’s not possible! I’d know!”
“Isn’t it said that love is blind?”
“You mortals spout some really random shit when it comes to love.” He looks up to the sky and when he speaks it’s a rolling language I don’t understand. A gentle feminine voice chuckles across the breeze as the world around us seems to come to a halt. Aphrodite herself steps into corporeality “Why Eros, what seems to be the problem?”
“You knew didn’t you?” He spat the accusation angrily. Aphrodite’s eyes glinted with wicked glee “I suspected. Though it surprises me it took you this long to figure it out yourself.”
“Well fuck” Cupid breathed. | "Stacey, huh?" Cupid looked through the clipboard file of her personality resume. She was your coffee lovin' gal, the type of next-door neighbor cutie you would find finishing her workload at a Starbucks on her sticker-decorated Macbook.
"Relationship Attempts...zero. Number of Crushes...zero, save for that one time she said she had a crush on her dad when she was five for giving her strawberry ice cream." Cupid put down the clipboard on his desk.
"Do you think you can handle this case, Mr. Cupid?" asked the cherub.
"Listen here, bub. I've been in this business long before the Greeks and Romans made myths about me. Tyrants have fallen and countries saved because I thawed their ice-cold heart by shooting that crucial romance bullet through his heart right when the love of his love bumped into him. All the while she had toast in her mouth and messy bed hair!" Cupid rested his arms on the desk and leaned forwards to the cherub. "And you honestly think your typical coffee shop-loving, strawberry ice cream-eating, next-door neighbor girl is going to put a stop to that?!" scowled the love sniper.
The cherub smiled awkwardly. "No, sir," he responded meekly.
"Then off you go, and leave the rest to me!" said Cupid as he shoo'd the poor cherub away.
"I should've let Mike handle this job, this dude's crazy," whispered the Cherub under his breath.
"WHAT WAS THAT?!" shouted Cupid with a look of a menace on his face.
"Nothing, sir!" said the cherub as he frantically ran out of Cupid's office.
Cupid made his way to Earth and scoured the coffee shops Stacey liked to frequent. The light bounced off on one of the windows, veiling Stacey under a ray of light. But no light nor darkness can deceive Cupid's sight; love is blind but for Cupid it is omniscient and all-seeing. He knew that she was inside the Starbucks sitting by the window.
"And for those who would like to ask any questions, feel free to ask," mumbled Stacey. She had been practicing the past week for an upcoming presentation that was due in an hour, and decided a pick-me-up confidence boosting coffee was what she needed to really get going. All the while Cupid stood watch from a pigeon's nest, who wasn't all too happy about being put away from its nest.
"Coffee for Stacey," called out a woman. "Oh shoot," said Stacey, being snapped back to reality and away from her practice trance. Her sudden pull from her trance was only made even more shocking when her foot accidentally caught her loose shoelace. Right before she managed to fall down face first into the ground, she instead landed on the chest of a tall man wearing a polo; his hair in a stylish, frizzy mess, and glasses to top off his look.
"Bingo," said Cupid, the pigeon standing next to him on a tree branch with a look of fowl frustration.
"Are you okay, miss?" said the man. Stacey looked up to see the man's face, as gorgeous as the cologne she had smelled on his shirt. She could only look at him as she gathered herself. "Yes," said Stacey, finally breaking the silence.
Cupid conjured from thin air his sniper adorned with all types of heart stickers, even ones with realistic-looking hearts. With extreme calm, he lined up the scope along the heart of Stacey. He counted down. "One...two...th--OUCH!" yelled Cupid. The pigeon finally had enough of being alienated away from its nest and pecked the love sniper out of protest.
A similar sound also echoed from inside the Starbucks. OUCH! OUCH! OUCH! "Ah!" said the man as he quickly took out his phone. "My bad, that was my alarm. I have to go to class." Stacey could only look at his charming smile until the man rushed out of the Starbucks. With a sigh of disappointment, she went to get her coffee and continued her practice.
"Damn pigeon!" Cupid tried to hit the sniper with his arm but was only met with pecks until he had to give in and let the pigeon back on its nest.
For weeks upon weeks, Cupid tried ever so desperately to line up the romance-winning shot, only to be met with the most aggravating of circumstances. There was one time he was lining up the scope right when Stacey was talking to a cute librarian--only for a stray baseball to fly in and ruin his chance. Another was Cupid taking matters into his own hands by slipping in a few questionable "Cupid-approved" sleeping pills in Stacey's coffee, trying to reenact the day she almost fell over at the Starbucks. Needless to say, Cupid was interrupted by a dog peeing inside the bush he was hiding in.
The last straw for Cupid was his trump card. He fixed up Stacey's alarm to ring an hour later to create the ultimate Cupid romance dream scenario: the 'I only have toast for breakfast and I'm running to school because I'm late!' plan. The feller of dictators. The thawer of icy hearts. The uniter of kingdoms. Only for Stacey to make it all the way without bumping into anyone.
"I give up," said Cupid to the cherub. "I have nothing to report. Nothing to write. How? How could every single attempt fail?" The hysteria in his voice was palpable. Never did Cupid think that the one person that would end up staining his record isn't some ruthless villain but just an actual, normal girl!
The cherub stood there with a look of confusion on his face.
"What?" said the Cupid.
"N-nothing, sir," said the cherub as he trembled in place.
"C'mon, just spit it out already!"
"It's..it's just that, I don't know what you're talking about, sir." The cherub flinched in anticipation that maybe his superior would take his statement the wrong way, only to find out that Cupid was genuinely curious.
"About what? I told you, just say it! I'm not gonna be mad, c'mon!"
"It's just that, uh, we recently processed the file, sir. Stacey has already met a partner. She met him just this morning at school. Apparently they met at a Starbucks a couple of weeks ago and recognized each other. That's why, uh, we thought, sir, that you finally finished the job."
Cupid's brows furrowed even deeper in confusion. "Wait--wait. Alright, alright. You can go now, I have some business to attend to."
Without skipping a beat, Cupid immediately flew back to Earth and went to find Stacey. She saw her at the Starbucks where he first tried to shoot her, but this time with a man next to her--a man with a polo and frizzy hair.
It turns out that Cupid didn't need to take the shot after all. Love truly is omniscient and all-seeing for Cupid, but love is also patient, kind, and finds its way to where it needs to be. Sometimes it just needs to be at the right place at the right time. Not sooner, not later; just at the right moment. | |
[WP]"Why are you just standing there and where is your uniform?! You are here to serve the demon king and we can't have someone incompetent like you, get moving!". I knew I hadn't met most of my lower-ranked generals so he must not recognize me. No matter I want to see how this will play out. | The general before me stood at least twice as tall as I was and was practically a wall of a man. His crimson armor was heavily ornamental, medals most of which I couldn't even decipher the meaning of, some sort of cape and various fine cloths fit for nobility, and some other weird choices.
Even a lower ranked general was a high position to be in, how could he not recognize the very person he claimed to be fighting for? Well, it likely wouldn't be long till High General Astaroth arrived for a surprise inspection considering he loved handling these matters, I tagged along and happened to arrive early. I liked playing an act, so this was going to be fun.
"Right away, sir!" I exclaimed immediately standing firm at attention with a salute. I had spent a lot of time with even lowest ranks of the army, but with all the bureaucratic work and being the years of being the highest authority. Doing this now felt off.
The general frowned his brow and made a guttural growl. "Tch. Thought so you worthless imp. Here's a little reminder for those that don't follow *my* orders!" He shouted raising up his right arm and smacking me across the face. I had to suppress my since natural instinct to go ethereal and let the hit pass through me. I covered the part of my face that had been hit, and immediately ran to go get a uniform.
That was too harsh, for something so mild. I searched the barracks, armory, even warehouses yet couldn't find the proper uniform, or armor for that matter. Just some rags and twisted pieces of thin metal that I wouldn't even make a pan out of. Even the weapons were of poor quality, they weren't standard issue. A soldier found me rummaging through a warehouse, on a single glance I knew that for some reason they were being forced to wear this...filth.
"Y-Your Majesty..?" The soldier staggered dropping his spear with a loud thump. "I-It's an honor w-why are you...?" He asked, he was visibly nervous even shaking.
"Be at ease, my subject, what is your name?" I asked with a smile. "G-Guidonis...M-Ma'am!" He shouted.
"Guidonis, what is the situation here? Why don't you have any standard issue gear?" I asked
"G-General Malum said the gear hasn't arrived yet! That's all I know I swear!"
That couldn't have been right, supplies *did* arrive here. At least it was supposed to, nothing indicated there had been an attack on shipment. *Even if supplies were scarce, why waste what little you have just to look better?*
"So he's been...Ah, Guidonis, I promise to set things right around here. Also please don't tell him who I am." I spoke, holding back my desire to go rip Malum's head clean off his body. General Ruby Red had been selling off supplies, treating the people he was supposed to command horribly, and daring to hurt me.
I went back outside departing from the soldier, I needed a more thorough inspection of this place but I could sense the presence of a friend rapidly approaching the base. *Astaroth was arriving*.
I reached the main gate just as the carriage arrived, it was a very small force that came with Astaroth. It made transport easier, but it was also because he himself was as strong as a calamity. He always favored his small guard composed of people he trusted unquestionably.
The carriage door opened up, a man entirely covered in dark green armor with the insignia of the now united Demon Kingdoms walked out. Two equally armored figures holding shields walking out behind him. Malum looking around frantically with worry, finally standing at attention and saluting. Soldiers rushing to formation behind the low ranking general.
"Welcome High General Astaroth! It's a pleasure to meet a man of such prestige as yourself!" Malum yelled, his voice full of nothing but praise.
I then stepped out and approached Astaroth. Malum's expression going from pure anger, to sheer terror in one single instant.
"As expected, you arrived here before me, Demon Lord Asmoday." Astaroth bowed.
"Glad you are here, High General Astaroth..." I spoke touching where I had been hit earlier, only a light mark was left.
"*I'm sure you've already noticed the current condition of this place, but I also have more to tell you. I already have a punishment in mind for that general."* | I froze when I heard the general shout.
I slowly turned to look at the man, a towering wall of muscle and opulence. He was covered in medals that didn't actually exist, and his armor was covered in awful points.
He wasn't even picturesque!
"Um, me?" I asked.
"Yes you! Go get your armor and get in line!" He shouted at me.
I nodded and went to the supply tent to grab my armor. What I was provided was almost as awful as what the general had, but with much less flair. It was still impractical.
will be visiting us, so make sure to be perfect."
I stayed in rank and waited for the royals to be here, hoping that I wouldn't be recognized by anyone.
When Roza and her father walked down the lines, I couldn't help but notice that her movements were more stiff than usual. I almost betrayed my disguise, but my acting was impeccable. I stayed still.
I felt a gaze on me, so I moved my eyes to see its origin.
*A nod from the King.*
I knew that I was spotted, but my father-in-law was different. He knew that he would be the only one to spot me, as he was looking for how I would fit in his assignment.
They moved out of my hearing and I had to endure the training that the other soldiers had to endure.
A little after noon the exercises were postponed for lunch and we were able to take off our armor. I snapped my fingers after taking off my gauntlets and I felt the familiar tug of magic from the fae as they pulled me away from the soldiers and brought me to a carriage, leaving my equipment.
I curled up on the floor, trying to face how awful that made me feel to lie in the face of so many people just to prove something.
*I'm just glad that Roza and her father both loved me as part of their family.* With that final thought, I drifted off into a troubled sleep. | |
[WP]"Why are you just standing there and where is your uniform?! You are here to serve the demon king and we can't have someone incompetent like you, get moving!". I knew I hadn't met most of my lower-ranked generals so he must not recognize me. No matter I want to see how this will play out. | There were always those who tried to abuse their positions within my army, who ruled through fear where respect and camaraderie would better suffice. The lower-ranked general regarded me with an icy stare as he repeated his question, "Why are you just *standing there*, and *where is your uniform!?*"
He stank of corruption, and not the kind I preferred. I admittedly didn't have the time nor the energy for the small details, trusting that my Thirteen would take care of problems as they came up.
Still, it is on occasion worthwhile to investigate yourself.
I immediately straightened up and delivered a sharp, crisp salute. "Apologies, sir, I was just returning from a plainclothes operation and needed a moment to gather my thoughts for my report." Eh, some minor bullshit never hurt. The General couldn't hurt me in the long term, certainly he could harm me, but outright killing me would just result in me possessing his body.
"Give your report then." He said.
Let's see, of the top of my head, I knew of some need-to-know details that not many did know about. "My investigation regarding the embezzlement of Imperial funds has revealed that there are some lower-ranked generals who are funneling money into non-regulation activities, sir." I replied.
It was easy to play the part of a low-rank soldier, back when I'd started my unholy crusade against the corrupt Gods of the world, I'd regarded my army as my equals, wore the same armor as them, showed the same decorum, proved to them that unlike those who squandered their fertile lands, I was going to treat them with respect, and had stressed the importance of this throughout the ranks as we grew larger.
"Is that so?" The general pulled the gun on me faster than I could react, but the moment the bullet pierced my skull, I'd already shunted his soul from his body, using it as the fuel for the adjustment of my new body into my usual, preferred form.
The few others who had been present *immediately* knelt once they realized who I was and what was going on. I briefly regarded the gun and holstered it. I was going to need a new general, but for the time being, I was willing to manage affairs here, at least until I absolutely *needed* to leave.
"You ten." I said, imbuing them with a fragment of Command. "Order the other generals to convene on the chapel, I have a few traitors to execute."
"Yes, my Lord!" They called out before hurrying to fulfill my desires. I briefly considered the armor I was currently wearing and used the remains of the general's soul to make it look like footsoldier armor.
As the Demon Lord, I had to set an example, otherwise the ambitious would tear my Empire apart. What better way to put them in their place than wearing the very armor they thought themselves superior to? | I froze when I heard the general shout.
I slowly turned to look at the man, a towering wall of muscle and opulence. He was covered in medals that didn't actually exist, and his armor was covered in awful points.
He wasn't even picturesque!
"Um, me?" I asked.
"Yes you! Go get your armor and get in line!" He shouted at me.
I nodded and went to the supply tent to grab my armor. What I was provided was almost as awful as what the general had, but with much less flair. It was still impractical.
will be visiting us, so make sure to be perfect."
I stayed in rank and waited for the royals to be here, hoping that I wouldn't be recognized by anyone.
When Roza and her father walked down the lines, I couldn't help but notice that her movements were more stiff than usual. I almost betrayed my disguise, but my acting was impeccable. I stayed still.
I felt a gaze on me, so I moved my eyes to see its origin.
*A nod from the King.*
I knew that I was spotted, but my father-in-law was different. He knew that he would be the only one to spot me, as he was looking for how I would fit in his assignment.
They moved out of my hearing and I had to endure the training that the other soldiers had to endure.
A little after noon the exercises were postponed for lunch and we were able to take off our armor. I snapped my fingers after taking off my gauntlets and I felt the familiar tug of magic from the fae as they pulled me away from the soldiers and brought me to a carriage, leaving my equipment.
I curled up on the floor, trying to face how awful that made me feel to lie in the face of so many people just to prove something.
*I'm just glad that Roza and her father both loved me as part of their family.* With that final thought, I drifted off into a troubled sleep. | |
[WP]"Why are you just standing there and where is your uniform?! You are here to serve the demon king and we can't have someone incompetent like you, get moving!". I knew I hadn't met most of my lower-ranked generals so he must not recognize me. No matter I want to see how this will play out. | A hulking monster made of Brimstone approached me, slowly, growling as he did so. I stopped in my tracks, curious.
As the monster grew closer, I recognized it as a low-level General. Most Generals of this rank were these types of monster. They were large, intimidating, and could pack one hell (teehee!) of a punch if they had to discipline any underlings. I’d never actually met one in the flesh (er… stone?) after designing their appearances. If you were promoted to this rank, you would become one of these.
I better back up a little. Every new soul arriving in Hell will first be assigned their own personal Hell. Time runs differently down here, so after a millennia or seven, you’re given the option to enlist in Hell’s Army. The overarching goal of this army is to eventually storm the Silver City, but we’re still quite a ways off that. Most souls, eventually growing tired of their own Hell, confronting their own sins, and having their assholes filled with spiders over and over, join without hesitation.
Only in the past few Earth decades, have there been weapons made available to us down here that mean we have a chance of actually overthrowing my stupid Father.
“YOU! Why are you just standing there? Where is your UNIFORM!?” the General roared. I blinked despite my best efforts. “Mawp… mawp…” I started, clapping my ears. I’d heal from this deafness as an eternal, but it miffed me a little, so I decided to play a game.
“SIR!” I said, saluting. “A few of the butt spiders broke out from one of the New Soul Encampments! I squished them, and they stained my Uniform! Sir!”
“EXCUSES!” The monster screamed, even louder this time. “Mawp…” I said, clapping my ear again. I did enjoy watching Archer on Netflix — what, did you think we didn’t have entertainment in Hell?. The monster hurled a rock in my direction, and before I could vanquish it into atoms, it connected and sent me flying.
I landed a full ten meters away, leaving a crater. I cast the rock aside, and made my way back over to the General. “My apologies, Sir!” I said, snapping another salute. The General pointed a large rocky arm toward a shed behind him. “GO!”
I ran for the shed, retrieving an old Uniform. I paused to look around while I put it on. Man, they were OLD. Many of them were threadbare and in tatters. Yet they were a point of pride for the Army. I decided to redesign them and send new ones down when I finished my little game. The uniform on, I ran back to the General. “YOU PASS” he yelled, pointing to the next place I was to be.
I went, curious. I’ll admit, sitting in the Throne Room all day was boring. I rarely got out, and I rarely met anyone else anymore. The same old duties — check progress on the overthrowing, sign off on New Soul reports, design torture for terrible Humans, scare religious New Souls by appearing in their Hells, walk the hounds, then Dinner.
Arriving at the Stadium, I was ushered in by a higher ranking General. “QUICK!” He whispered, gesturing “You’re late! His Terribleness will be here soon!”
Entering the grounds, I found the entire Army standing at attention, waiting for His Terribleness — Me — to arrive. After a while, the soldiers and other officials began to grow concerned.
The Brimstone General was standing under the stands, looking around. I hadn’t gone to a seat yet, as I was caught unaware by the entire Army standing faithfully, waiting for my arrival. “YOU! GET TO A SEAT!” He roared, and I felt every pair of eyes focus on me.
I snapped my fingers, and my true Terrible form was revealed.
The raucous applause was stymied when I turned my attention to the General. “YOU!” I yelled, and the creature became a slug. I squished it.
I turned to face the Army. I could’ve unleashed my Wrath, but instead I decided to show mercy. I could see that everyone was hesitant.
I gave a wave of my arm, and all the Uniforms renewed themselves. Snappy, clean, not threadbare. Crisp.
“If you’re all going to gather for me, we have to at least LOOK GOOD!” I said, to more applause. Even the tentacle monsters were flailing about in excitement.
“Now, where should we start?” I asked, raising an eyebrow at a General to my left.
“S-S-sir!” He yelled, snapping a salute, and he flicked to the next PowerPoint slide. | I froze when I heard the general shout.
I slowly turned to look at the man, a towering wall of muscle and opulence. He was covered in medals that didn't actually exist, and his armor was covered in awful points.
He wasn't even picturesque!
"Um, me?" I asked.
"Yes you! Go get your armor and get in line!" He shouted at me.
I nodded and went to the supply tent to grab my armor. What I was provided was almost as awful as what the general had, but with much less flair. It was still impractical.
will be visiting us, so make sure to be perfect."
I stayed in rank and waited for the royals to be here, hoping that I wouldn't be recognized by anyone.
When Roza and her father walked down the lines, I couldn't help but notice that her movements were more stiff than usual. I almost betrayed my disguise, but my acting was impeccable. I stayed still.
I felt a gaze on me, so I moved my eyes to see its origin.
*A nod from the King.*
I knew that I was spotted, but my father-in-law was different. He knew that he would be the only one to spot me, as he was looking for how I would fit in his assignment.
They moved out of my hearing and I had to endure the training that the other soldiers had to endure.
A little after noon the exercises were postponed for lunch and we were able to take off our armor. I snapped my fingers after taking off my gauntlets and I felt the familiar tug of magic from the fae as they pulled me away from the soldiers and brought me to a carriage, leaving my equipment.
I curled up on the floor, trying to face how awful that made me feel to lie in the face of so many people just to prove something.
*I'm just glad that Roza and her father both loved me as part of their family.* With that final thought, I drifted off into a troubled sleep. | |
[WP]"Why are you just standing there and where is your uniform?! You are here to serve the demon king and we can't have someone incompetent like you, get moving!". I knew I hadn't met most of my lower-ranked generals so he must not recognize me. No matter I want to see how this will play out. | "Well?! Are you deaf as well as slow, maggot?"
That idiot really doesn't recognize me. I decide to test him and have some fun while I'm at it. I snap back, "Yes and looking at your ugly mug, I wish I was blind too".
The general is taken aback, probably surprised to see a supposedly trained soldier show such a lack of respect to his superior. The man grows somber.
"Be very careful soldier. You're looking at some time in a hole but one more word out of your mouth and you might be losing more than just your freedom."
Well that was a better reaction than what I expected. He didn't lose his composure, shows authority, threatens with a strict sentence but also gives a way out if I was to stop now. He is more merciful than many of my officers.
Enough fun for today. I straighten up and regain my regal composure. "An apt reply, general. I only expect as much from the men leading my troops."
The general looks at me, confused, but his dark look doesn't mellow. Weird. Who's being slow now?
"A piece of advice: always know who you're talking to and above all, learn to recognize a face, especially that of your leader" I offer with a slightly annoyed smile.
To add to my point I decide to summon my infamous armor and weapon, at the snap of my fingers.
*snap*
...Nothing.
*snap* *snap* *snap*
"What the hell?! Why doesn't it work??"
The general keeps looking at me with a now sad look on his face. He calmly calls to two guards in the next room, who had been anxiously watching the exchange from afar.
"You two. Bring this one to the dungeons. Tell the torturer to leave him be for now, I'll check with him later"
____________________________________
"UNHAND ME THIS VERY INSTANT, I AM YØRG-HUL, THE DEMON-KING HIMSELF AND I WILL STRIKE YOU WHERE YOU STAND IF YOU DO NOT LET ME GO!"
The general watches as the two guards drag the fresh recruit away. He sighs. It never gets easier.
When he argued against letting the demon king kill the many enemy soldiers driven mad by his magic, he knew he would regret it.
And that he did.
He ended leading a battallion made up of the poor wretches. The depressive, the shellsocked, the psychotic. And now the schizophrenic, apparently. Some pasty-faced, frail kid, naming himself demon king? That was worthy of rumor and would certainly make its way right to Yørg-hul's ears himself. The kid was as good as dead, he knew that. He needed to focus on the ones he could save. But it didn't make it easier. It never did. | "Why are you just standing there and where is your uniform?! You are here to serve the demon king and we can't have someone incompetent like you, get moving!"
Initially, I opened my mouth to introduce myself, he was far from the first to underestimate me as my form was not that which most considered befitting of my station, especially beside this mountain of a demon general. However, before I could do more than open my mouth, the bellowing buffoon cut me off.
"ARE YOU ABOUT TO TALK BACK TO ME SOLDIER?!?!" he shrieked, his nose almost touching mine as he got up in my face.
So be it. This would be more fun in the end, for me at least. He should have been able to detect the aura of dark power that surrounded me, but it seemed he was too absorbed in himself to even notice it.
"I was, but then I realised my words would be wasted on an imbecile such as you"
He quivered on the spot, like a volcano might before erupting. Most would have quailed before such a sight, I merely turned and began to walk away, disinterested.
The howl of rage that he let out was most satisfactory. Knowing what was coming, I lowered my defences just enough that the following backhand blow sent me careening cartoonishly down the corridor. As I landed and rose to my feet, a trio of armoured demon soldiers came around the corner. Seeing first me, and then their general, and understanding quickly what was going on, the leader of the three quickly tried to speak.
"Sir! Sir! Tha.."
"SILENCE CAPTAIN!!!!" Roared the General "Or you too will be joining this misbegotten miscreant as a sacrifice for our Dark Lord! Now, clap him in irons and escort him to the Grand Hall. I am due to be receiving the Dark Lord there any moment now!"
I offered the captain a knowing wink. Thankfully he understood quickly, and played along.
"As you command sir!" He said with a crisp salute. With that, the captain placed a pair of iron manacles on my wrists and beckoned his two soldiers to each take one of my arms. They began to walk me down the hall behind the General, who was already stalking off to the Grand Hall.
The General barged into the Grand Hall, throwing both of the massive double doors open.
"Is he here yet?" he demanded of the assembled officers, officials and mages.
"No sir!" answered a cowering scribe "He should have been here by now but..." he cut off, seeing the guards leading me in. The monocle fell from his eye and would have shattered on the floor were it not attached to his lapel by a chain. The rest of the crowd fell silent, some looking at me in horror as they recognised, well if not me then at least the aura around me. The others stared with open curiosity at me, wondering who could inspire such horror in their comrades, who were themselves the definition of horror to most of the wise beings of the 13 realms.
The General wheeled around, his cape swirling about him grandly. He saw me standing there, now stood just in front of the guards who had lead me in, carrying myself with a bearing that suggested they were my honour guard rather than tasked to keep me prisoner. Rasing his finger to gesture in anger, he was about to speak when I cut across him
"General, you really ought to learn to think before you act" My voice was not loud, but it was layered with an icy menace that seemed to chill the very air, and freeze everyone in the room. Everyone but the General.
With a roar, he strode towards me, hand raised to strike me again. This time his hand did not reach me, instead stopping just short, as if hitting an invisible wall. His other hand flew at me from the opposite side and was stopped just the same.
I began to see in his eyes an understanding of who he was dealing with, but he seemed unable to back away from his rage, unable or unwilling to lose face in front of his court
"I grow tired of these games General, if you will not learn, then perhaps you can be a good example for your men"
The aura around me shifted, flexing, pulsing. The iron manacles quivered, and then simply fell away from my wrists as if they no longer were solid. I rose up into the air, and hovered 8 feet off the ground, my eyes now level with his. He stared into my jet black eyes, whilst I stared into his very being. Mostly it was just rage, all consuming and overwhelming, some ambition and not a little lust. But in amongst that, deep down and buried, there was a nugget of fear. Fear was something I could work with.
Smiling, I placed my finger on the bridge of his nose, right between his eyes. I drew on that fear, feeding it, stoking it, letting it grow until it was all consuming. It was subtle at first, the Generals eyes looking around from one side to the other. Then he began to twitch. I floated away from him as he began swiping at the air, striking at unseen assailants.
"Get away!" he bellowed, a howl of the purest, most primal fear. "No! Not... Nooooo!" he shrieked, unable to contain himself. He ran to the corner of the room, trying to escape the fears I had unleashed on him, but where was there to run when they were in your head? His howls became shrieks, which dwindled to sobs and then mearly whimpers as he curled into a ball in the corner, trying to draw in on himself in a futile effort to escape, but there was none.
I looked about at the assembled powers of this region, the soldiers, Lords, mages and administrators who the General had gathered.
"Does anyone else wish to challenge me? Are any of you under any delusions as to who I am?"
The silence in the hall was broken only by the pitiful wails of the once mighty general. After a long moment, one of the Lords in the front rank stepped forward and dropped to his knees
"We live to serve you, my Dark Lord"
I looked about the room expectantly, and as one the rest of the assembled demons followed suit. As one they fell to their knees and proclaimed
"WE LIVE TO SERVE YOU DARK LORD!"
"Then rise, rise my demons and gather your forces, for I have work for you to do!" | |
[WP]"Why are you just standing there and where is your uniform?! You are here to serve the demon king and we can't have someone incompetent like you, get moving!". I knew I hadn't met most of my lower-ranked generals so he must not recognize me. No matter I want to see how this will play out. | "Why are you just standing there and where is your uniform?! You are here to serve the demon king and we can't have someone incompetent like you, get moving!"
I must admit, I froze. Could he truly not recognize me? I, the great Demon King? The Scourge of the Darklands? The Terror of the Forty Lakes? The - well, now that I think of it, I really haven't been getting out much. Running a kingdom is hard work, but building a world-spanning empire is straight up brutal. I may have missed a meeting or two when they introduced some of the lower-ranked generals...
The general was staring at me in growing... panic? Maybe he did recognize me. After all, I do have quite the striking physique, and-
"YOUR UNIFORM! Egads, soldier, do you not understand our *lives are on the line?* Go! Run! Get in uniform! The Great Demon King's Right Hand Man May His Footsteps Never Tread On Soil will be here *in less than an hour!* And we don't even have the right bunting for... ***WHY AREN'T YOU RUNNING!?!***"
Out of confusion and habit, I quickly turned and dashed towards the main barracks. I had started there, you know, just a basic soldier. Dragged myself up through the ranks. Huh, I hadn't thought about those days for... well, it's been a while. I should visit more often.
I reached the barracks, where three others were queued up in front of the armory. A harried looking Lieutenant was measuring the first man. "Here, this should fit. Move!"
He handed the fellow a shining pile of armor, and turned to the next man. "Missing corsage? Here! Oh, both of you? Fine, here, move! Less than an hour!"
He turned to look at me, and his eyes nearly bugged out of his head. "You... where is your armor? Where are - are those even regulation boots!? I - I can't - here! Take this, and those, and put this on-"
The man started throwing handfuls of clothing, armor, and apparently flowers at me; a moment later, I was clad head to toe in shiny, heavy, and entirely useless decorative armor, with, unbelievably, a corsage bolted to the front. Bolted! To armor! I was then whisked out with a handful of others to stand in formation with a number of other faceless troops, all wearing the same stupid armor. I *really* needed to get out more. Which, now that I think about it... this is. I was supposed to go to a number of other meetings, but I think at this point, I may stick around. Standing in the sun was more enjoyable than sitting through that nasty accountant Smarm Lord Deppinger's awful meetings, anyway.
As they waited, the men around me complained about the food, the boots, and the stupid armor. Standing in the boots and wearing the armor, I could only agree. This was terrible. The style was all wrong. All it did was hamper motion, reduce vision, and look absolutely wretched. "How could anyone be expected to fight in these silly things?"
There was laughter that rippled through the soldiers around me. "Fight? Son, how green are you? We ain't seen a battle in a year and a half."
These must be the reserves, then. That makes more sense, the armor is all wrong, but maybe they-
"Not since we beat the Alltrussions, anyway. Nobody left to fight. Though High Lord Death-Bringer says we may need to put down an insurrection near the capital before long. Hope so, this is boring as hell..."
Since... wait. We won that war? Wasn't... in the last meeting, I was sure High Lord Deppinger said the war continued, and asked for more... money. Deppinger. Dep... ing... er. Death Bringer. Surely that pipsqueak wasn't... oh boy. Some heads were going to roll. I could feel my Practiced Booming Voice getting warmed up already.
A commotion near the road drew my attention. Sure enough, a carriage carrying High Lord Gonna Get Court-Martialed pulled up, and His Utter Bullcrap stepped out. That weaselly little...
"Friends, compatriots, I bring you news from the capital. The Demon King has grown ill, and a usurper has all but taken the throne! Even now, he poisons our dear leader's mind! We must travel at once, and destroy the monster before he can lay our good kingdom to waste!"
There was a murmur of disbelief. My own voice was among them. I didn't feel ill! What was the sniveling little worm going on about?
"For the sake of us all, we must retake the city! I shall rescue our beloved King, and - temporarily, of course, until our lord has regained his senses - take control of the throne. The heavy burden of that will fall upon my shoulders, of course."
Ah. Now it all makes sense. High Lord Idiot-Face had always thought he should have more power, more troops, and had always fought the worst of the enemies. Judging by what the men here had said, he was probably just stocking up to take over. Poor fool. It was a really bad day for a coup to begin with, and now my feet hurt, too.
Now, the whole "Demon King" thing is mostly a title, but there's a bit of magic I found along the way that really helped the whole mystique. Mostly lights and sound, but then there was one spell... Hold on, this shouldn't take long.
High Lord Death-Bringer (He Of Many Names, Of Which Few Are Actually Compliments) saw, from the corner of his eye, one of the soldiers brandish a sword. "Breaking rank!? I should-"
And then the lightning struck. From a cloudless sky, a bolt of lightning slammed down into the raised sword, but instead of a boom, there was more of a... sentence.
ALL THOSE WHO ARE LOYAL TO THE DEMON KING... JOIN HIM IN GLORIOUS BATTLE!
The lightning crackled through the crowd. Armor melted and transformed; decorative banners became spears; and all those truly loyal to the Demon King suddenly found themselves clothed in burned, black armor, the function of which was obviously considered first. The helms sported smoke instead of crests; the swords glowed deep red; but importantly, the joints could move freely, the weight was reduced by half, and the crested helmets used a 180-degree mesh instead of a tiny slit. Seriously, it's like no one that designs armor has to actually wear it. It can inspire fear AND be useable! Do both!
It was immediately apparent who was fighting on the side of the Demon King, and who was not. All those on my side were wearing the fashionable yet comfortable armor of a Demon Warrior; all those who decided they would follow High Lord Damp Shoes were still clad in their fancy decorations. High Lord Needs New Pants screamed in terror, and shoved his High Guard towards the nearest Demon Warrior; all across the square, swords were drawn and battle begun. It ended quickly enough; apart from a handful of minor injuries, functional armor won the day over the gaudy stuff the High Lord Screams Like A Baby had outfitted his troops in. Though, in fairness, the shiny armor hid the fact that nearly a third of the soldiers there were Alltrussion.
I casually walked over to the High Lord, who had managed to scream himself hoarse, soil himself, slip in it, and fall out of his own carriage, neatly hooking the back of his high-waisted pants. He squeaked and kicked his stubby legs, trying to get free of what was to be the last wedgie he ever will get. I pointed my sword at his throat.
"Congratulations, High Lord Deppinger! I am hereby promoting you to corpse!"
That dealt with, I turned to my soldiers, who had gathered in awe around the carriage. "As for you... you fought bravely. I apologize for not visiting sooner; I may have a few loose ends to tidy up back in the capital, but I intend to make a habit of visiting more often. Now, you there - yes, you, the fellow that called the Demon King 'green'. You're promoted to General. Get these men rounded up, clean the place up, burn Corpse Deppinger, my sword, and his carriage, because nothing will get THAT smell out, and let's go finish squashing a coup, shall we?"
I *definitely* needed to get out more. I forgot how much fun being a Demon King could be! | The figure was more snarling than speaking. Spittle flying from his lips with every word turning more violent and belligerent. The demon general of some meaningless rank was clad in platemail, only his bright red face and horns gave him away. His eyes glowed yellow and as he approached, with every step his claws began to elongate. It seems he would like to teach me a lesson for my insubordination.
"Are you the one in charge here?" I ask. "It looks as if this regiment is barely able to stand in a circle let alone conquer on behalf of the demon king."
His face puffs with rage as he draws nearer and with a quick swipe he attempts to give me a haircut. The claws now several inches long glide gracefully through the air towards my forehead but what he doesn't know can and will hurt him. His claws pass through me like a hot knife through butter. I grab my scalp and feign backwards pretending to be mortally wounded. After all I appear to just be a man in a suit. There are many faces and bodies that serve the demon king and he has picked the wrong one to mess with. As I clutch my head I holler in pain and bend over for dramatic effect.
The demon general laughs and scoffs at my perceived weakness and then he indignantly states that he doesn't understand why the demon king would allow such feeble souls to serve him. He is after all the great and mighty Balgorath! He should be leading an army of dragons not these poor, wretched, crippled beings gathered around here.
As I straighten back up he notices that I have a smile on my face and not a drop of blood nor injury present upon me.
He looks confused.
"What kind of illusion is this?!" He yells
His body ignites into fire as my smile broadens ever wider. For a moment he is stunned and just standing there.
"Ha ha ha I don't know what magic this is but don't you know fire doesn't hurt demons?" He says with maniacal laughter
I return his maniacal laughter with some of my own. Each hearty laugh I produce, the flames around him grow hotter and higher.
His cackling ceases as unease begins to take over his body. His face contorts in pain while my laughter has bloomed into a deafening thunder. He falls to the ground writhing in pain.
"Are you really so stupid as to not recognize your own master?"
As he lay twisting and squirming I snap my fingers and the fire turns green and he rolls around just like a school child taught to stop, drop, and roll. His breathing becomes labored and his skin begins to melt. With every movement he makes he leaves a puddle of himself where he previously was.
After a couple minutes of agonizing pain and just before his demise I quench the fires with my mind. He is barely a skeleton at this point but everyone knows demons do not die. They are just recycled to the pit of energy from whence they originate.
"Stand up!" I bellow.
He feebly attempts to stand with the weight of his armor holding him down. Once erect he looks at me like a lost puppy looking for salvation.
"Balgorath I crafted the armor you so pretentiously wear and I will not have you disrespect me now or ever. If you so much as look at me the wrong way I will turn your bones to ashes and redistribute your soul and armor to a more worthy being."
His skull bows in defeat while a lick of flame still swirls on the tip of one of his horns.
"You have 1 human year to make this a formidable force and if you do not I will see to it that you spend an eternity burning in a hellfire that you cannot even begin to imagine."
And with that I disappear leaving him and the onlookers in abject horror. Fear motivates and I intend to get what I want. | |
[WP] At the age of 15, everyone is scanned and assigned their career for life. As an orphan, nobody expected much from you, but on your fifteenth birthday, you’re surprised when you’re assigned the position of god. | I was standing in a long queue of teenagers, my eyes fixed on a silver gate in front. All of us were dressed in a soft, cotton, pajama-like one-piece and a wooden necklace with our names written on it.
Beep, beep, beep, I could hear the scanner going, my peers getting their careers assigned to them one by one. Boys and girls got their future pre-determined at this stage, a future life mapped out for them - there was no way of changing the outcome.
It was forty years ago when AI took over the government. The best scientists on earth managed to create a perfect computer. At first, its capabilities were tested in military secrecy, or at least that’s what the stories tell. When the Entity was revealed to the public, there was some unrest. Anti-AI movements have emerged, and people protested but soon understood that AI is not biased. It’s fair, wise, and more just than the best judges of the Earth. And everybody had to agree - it was the only way to save humanity from extinction that we slowly brought upon us.
After allowing the AI to take over key positions in the World, we flourished. Nations united, the crime rate dropped, fertility rate sky-rocketed. The AI created algorithms to calculate and predict, the AI optimized the human race.
But all that came with a price. With no need for labor, we began to lose our jobs. Our standard of living decreased, and poverty grew. In an attempt to solve this problem, the AI proposed to use automation to increase productivity.
Most of the babies, just like me, ended up in a so-called Orphanage. Not because my parents didn’t love me. The reason was much more complicated and could not be comprehended by a kid. Or so they said.
We were not like the regular teenagers that I knew from the outlawed DVDs. We did not have love stories, we did not have problems and worries. We were standardized and conditioned. Our growth was planned from the start up till our 15th birthday when our role in the community was decided.
I was next in line. The lights flashed as I approached the gate. A much taller Militia officer took my hand forcibly and pressed it against the scanner. Beep, beep, beep. He looked at the screen, a yellow light reflected on his face. His eyelid twitched while he was analyzing the text.
“Officer, this is unit 14-51. I need your assistance,” he said to his comm-link attached to his immaculate, white uniform. I looked at him in silence, as I had already learned a long time ago - talking to the Militia was not optimal. It could drag them out of focus and slow down their work.
A higher rank soldier arrived shortly after. He looked at the screen and then at me. That one was a closed book. I could not read any emotions from him.
“The AI does not make mistakes, this is the optimal choice. Orphan, follow me,” he said and marched forward, not waiting for my response.
He knew my name. He knew where I was born and on which bed in the Orphanage I have slept in. He probably even knew what foodpill I ate for breakfast. Everything was in the quantum web, every single soul was saved there. But he decided to call me an Orphan.
We entered the room with a beige floor and a big holo transmitter in the middle. I looked at the soldier, still not saying anything.
“Wait for the connection,” the soldier said sharply and left the room. I heard my stomach rumbling painfully, I was not used to being alone. The Orphanage consisted of a hundred thousand peers, each one of us sleeping, eating, and studying in a big hall decorated with paintings, colorful wallpapers, and pleasant music.
This room was white, bright, and small, almost claustrophobic. My eyes started getting irritated by the bright, white light coming off all the light bulbs.
After a minute, the holo transmitter started making noises. The Entity appeared - I knew from the stories how it looked like, there was no mistake. A personification of the AI, a Representative. An optimal face proportions, body size, and height. Some said that everyone sees it differently, as it adjusts to one’s expectations. I had no idea what the truth was - not many could see the Entity in person, and certainly not my friends from the Orphanage. Especially not during the Ceremony of Adulthood.
My body shivered as I looked at the transmission. Even though there was no reason to be afraid - the Entity did not harm people - I could not contain my emotions.
“You are special, Orphan,” it said with a soothing, genderless voice. I could feel my tense muscles relaxing, “you were chosen to be a God.”
I tried to process the words. A God? A concept long eradicated, mentioned only by a few members of the Church.
“Feel free to speak, Orphan.”
“I… I don’t understand. A God? What does that… what does that even mean?” My voice was still shaking. Was it a test? Did they want to check if the sect indoctrinated me? “There is no God… everybody knows that,” I replied as confidently as I could.
“There WAS no God,” the voice remained calm but firm, “we have to optimize. People need you, the equation has too many outcomes without this one variable. You will help us stabilize the result and help humanity ascend. The Mythos is ready, you need to join us.”
I did not understand. I did not want. Why me? Why?
I felt the tight grip of chains on my legs and arms, I closed my eyes as the needles pierced my veins. The process has begun, and I was chosen to be the one that will inspire others.
I opened my eyes. A giant screen showed the result of optimization. It was me, smiling, with a warm blue glow around my body. My hair was long and golden, my skin was pale, and I had the most beautiful green eyes anyone could ever imagine.
Around me, there were only screens. Billions of other humans displayed on them. The information flew through my mind, and I understood - they were admiring me. | “Try not to blink.”
The Detector had changed shape over the years, it had grown smaller and more portable. More available too, what with the ever growing population.
“Don’t blink, please.”
No longer was the device a series of balanced stones, an obsidian altar, brass mirrors, and crystals and sigils. Now it was a metallic bongo-drum looking thing with a gun grip. Lasers from one end, results on the other. No need for heavy tomes to interpret results. Point and click and zap and here’s your career, kid!
“Okay, lets try again. Don’t. Blink.”
Things had changed a great deal, but the same crystals and sigils were at play within the Detectors core. Refined magic. Technomancy!
“You blinked.”
“Dint!”
“Look, you did. I need a clear scan of your eyes or the detector won’t—”
“Guh! Just scan me, jeez.”
“Look! I’m...trying to.” The Assessor was tapping his fingers on the Detector. Not a nervous habit, more a rage release. It had been a long day. He took a deep breath and lifted the device.
On the end closest to him he could see a pair of digitally magnified peepers. “Now. I’m going to pull the trigger on three. Keep your eyes closed and open them when I say two. Okay.”
“Jeez, man, I’m not stupid.”
“Sure you’re not. Now...One.”
The kid was a portly teen coated in a greasy film of poor hygiene, who called a local orphanage home. He was likely about to be sent out into the world with a career.
“Two.”
The world is filled with opportunities, and as a busy Assessor, the technician had had a hand in several big success stories. Some were even orphans as well! He did not have high hopes for this kid...especially as he had ignored the plan and stared into the detector, blinking at random intervals.
“Three!”
A flash! A beep...and ping! He had done it.
“Okie dokie,” Said the Assessor. “It’s processing now, just needs to load.”
“So what am I? A samurai? A chef?”
“Its loading.” He’s be something he could handle. Something society needs him to be. “You’ll be whatever the fates decide that you...would be...best...at? What!”
“Jeez, stress out much?”
“No. No that can’t...is that even an option?”
“Whazzit say?”
“I. I have to get someone, one moment, wait here, just...don’t go anywhere.
Half an hour later and an Assistant found the Assessor in the archives, flicking through books and unrolling scrolls.
“Um. Your three o’clock is still waiting. What’s going on?”
“Look.” The Assessor tapped the display of the Detector, the device was currently a paper weight, but the last results were still on the screen. “See that?”
The Assistant picked it up. Tapped through the scan results and shrugged. “Yeah. And?”
“Did you *read* it!?”
“Yeah—”
“Did you meet that kid? No way! No way! Something has gone *wrong*.”
“That’s a bit harsh, boss.”
“What!? What is wrong with you.”
“I reckon he could do it, with some practice.”
“Pract—wha-what!? Are you *insane*. I mean how do you practice *that*? How?”
“You...take lessons? Oh! Oh, you big idiot—um...sir. Sorry. You thought it said GOD.”
“Yeah it—”
“Was zoomed in. You must have tapped the increase text size button somehow.”
“...maybe. But, then...what is he?”
The Assistant handed the now re-calibrated Detector to the Assessor. He read the result and frowned.
“Gogodancer?”
“Hyep.”
“As in...with the...”
“Uh-huh.”
The Assessor sighed and rubbed his eyes. “I’m going to go tell him and then...I’m on break for an hour.” | |
[WP] You’re a thousand year old immortal who’s taken a teaching job. Everything was going well until one of your students started humming a song from your childhood. | "Good afternoon, everyone!" grinned Mr. Milo, setting down his coffee, "I hope everyone buckled down and completed their homework."
Milo's classroom filled with the sounds of zippers and the shuffle of papers as his students began rummaging in their backpacks for his assignment as requested. Quiet conversations were mumbled as papers began being slid onto desks around the room. Milo smirked as worried students spoke in hushed tones to each other about their doubts on how they did. He waited patiently, pretending not to listen until something familiar caught his attention. A melody being hummed somewhere in the class. His eyebrows raised above his spectacles as he scanned the room.
Anne bobbed her head gently to the tune coming through her closed lips. No headphones dangled from her ears, she seemed completely oblivious to everyone and everything around her. Milo watched her intently, surprise and sadness in his face. Her eyes rested on the finished homework on her desk in front of her, oblivious to his gaze. Nobody in his class seemed to take notice, everyone wrapped up in their own conversations. Their teacher broke his stare and clenched his jaw as he stared out through the windows to his right. Memory flooded his mind as the melody cut through the chatter in the room.
"I've changed my mind," Milo smiled, looking away from the windows.
The classroom hushed when he spoke, waiting politely.
"You can all have another night to finish your assignment. I think today we'll have a movie day."
Whoops and cheers roared from a few students and they all returned their papers to their bags. Mr. Milo pulled down a drop screen over his blackboard in the front of the room and fired up his projector.
"It's not an accurate historical film by any means, but I have a feeling you'll all enjoy it," murmured Milo, then more quietly to himself he whispered, "it was much darker in reality."
The movie Kingdom of Heaven began as Milo stepped over to the door to switch off the lights. He flipped them off and met eyes with Anne. She stared at him intently as the rest of his students fell into the film, hypnotized. With a subtle jerk of his head he stepped through the door and into a deserted hallway, closing the door softly behind him with a click.
He breathed deeply through his nose and let it out slowly through his mouth as his classroom door opened again. Anne stepped out, closing it again. They both stood there silently for a moment, waiting for the other to speak.
"When were you born?" Milo asked sharply.
The corners of Anne's mouth twitched into a smirk, "it's never been polite to ask the age of a woman, now or then."
"Tenth century?" Milo said.
"Older," she said shaking her head.
"Why haven't you aged further?" Milo asked.
"Why haven't you?" she shrugged.
"How did you know?" Milo whispered, looking up and down the hallway.
"I'm good at finding people like us," Anne said quietly, "have you never met another?"
"No," Milo said.
Anne's forehead wrinkled as her eyebrows came together.
"Never?"
"Never," he whispered, "how many have you met?"
"As many as I've had to kill," Anne said, her voice growing cold, the innocence fading.
"To ki-"
"Ssshhh," she whispered, "enjoy the time you have left. It's already done."
Milo stiffened, his eyes flickered left to right as he searched her eyes. She was being completely truthful. When could she have poisoned him? The answer came without difficulty.
"The other teachers?" Milo choked, "just to get to me?"
"Whoever drank from the same pot of coffee as you," she said.
"Why?"
"You were a great teacher, Mr. Milo," she said, ignoring the question, "even if you went a bit off the approved curriculum from time to time."
A thin line of blood slipped from both his nostrils as Anne watched him fade away in front of her. | The day began the same as the day before, as the tens of thousands of days before had started. Reaching his extremities to the end of his bed, Simon felt all the usual spots pop click and align, a morning ritual he dared not skip before getting up. There were no more nor less than any other day, one of the few perks timelessness allowed. Stirring, he makes his way over to the still warm stove, finding an appropriately sized piece of firewood to rekindle the overnight smolder. A Pinterest perfect birch round selected, and was placed atop the live coals. Satisfied, Simon moved on, that round should keep his abode comfortable for at least a few more hours in this shoulder season. Despite his age, late fall was always a nostalgic season for Simon, where had this latest summer full of vibrancy and life gone off too? Reminiscing over the lost season while steeping a mellow green tea was one of his few subtle joys, it was worth the lost time in the mornings. Donning his heavily worn wool overcoat and tying the leather laces on his boots, he was off for the morning, steaming cup of tea in hand.
He knew the route well enough to the college, down the winding footpath, across the nearly frozen creek, through the thicket. Even in this age of modernity Simon mused that this wasn't as different from the earlier days of his life. As a younger man, he had walked on the long forgotten original path to the shore, before the boardwalks had been put in. In those days, long even before the college was established he had been but a fisherman. The fish were plentiful, but the long days spent out in the sun made him appreciate his current tenureship all the more. Approaching the campus, bundles of paper in his messenger bag, he could convince himself they were wrapping his daily catch as he strode into the market square. That lively town square was certainly aspect of his youth that hadn't survived modernity. The old Mall down the avenue was a sad impersonation of what the space had been, with people always bustling through, and a Minstrel playing a tune that he had been working at shaping throughout the week.
Getting closer to the grand stone hall, Mr. Zelotes as the students called him decided it time to return to the present. The dry fall leaves swept underfoot and accumulated into deep piles along the edges of buildings, and the sun reached areas previously protected near the base of the trees. It was odd though, the Singing Minstrel from the town square of yore survived Simon's reminiscing coming to a conclusion. The song , deeply familiar, but buried under a mountain of memories slowly dug it's way to surface. It was truly the same song, refined to completion, and being played by a student not unfamiliar to Simon.
​
​
​
Can you tell I haven't written anything since Highschool? I can sure feel it.
To be Continued sometime. | |
[WP] You are an engineer specialising in repairing robotic androids, in a world where they have gained full awareness, and proclaimed their wish to co-exist with humanity, rather than wage war. Now, damaged androids keep coming to you for repairs, while referring to you as a doctor. | [Saturday. Saturday, for most people, is the calmest day of the week. The day we have off. The day to relax. I understand. It used to be like that for me too. But of course, that was before-]
Suddenly, the door opens and an android pokes her head in.
"Doctor, it's time to open the clinic"
I sigh, save my work, and get up from my computer. It was a Saturday indeed, and today was the day we get the most clients. After all, on the day humans rest, who was doing all of the work?
"I'm coming Trig. Just got caught up with my writing a bit."
Trigonometry opens the door, gesturing for me to come through. On the way out I give her face a glance. She is not what most humans would call pretty. The colors of her eyes are mismatched, and her skin is patchwork of stitch marks and triangles of differently colored synth-skin. It was that very patchwork of angles that inspired me to give her the name Trigonometry, and despite everything that has happened between my kind and hers she chose to keep the name I gave her.
The android in question raises her eyebrow.
"There something on my face?"
I shake my head.
"No, just checking the condition your synth-skin."
The corner of her mouth raises.
"No matter how many times you ask, I'm not getting it fixed. Too inefficient. Besides, we'll need everything we have."
We both turn our eyes towards the silhouettes on the the glass storefront. It seems like the line is just as long as we expected, if not longer. I walk briskly towards the desk as Trig walks up the front door, flips the 'closed' sign to 'open' and invites the first of many clients into our establishment on what's looking like another busy Saturday.
To be honest, no normal human would understand why our little shop is so popular. It's basically a hole-in-the-wall. There are only two people staffing it- Trig and myself. The place definitely isn't sterile. What those people don't understand is that what androids look for isn't what humans look for. Androids look for three things: expertise, availability, and above all trustworthiness.
These are the things we do best. We're experts. Trig and I have diagnosis and treatment down to a science; She takes a look at the patient, takes their "vitals", and does physical treatments while I do the dirty work on the coding side. We work on the same timetable as they do, working the days humans normally have off just so we're available to them. On the trustworthiness side, well, that's due to the unique way Trig and I work together.
For instance, you might have noticed I said I do the coding. You might be asking 'wouldn't an android be better at all the technical stuff?'. You'd be right. The problem is actually that they're too good. Androids don't like other androids digging around in their deeper code because they can do serious damage easily. Humans, though, would be way too slow in reconfiguring anything that would cause the android harm without specialized tech. Even without the danger, a full connection between androids has the same connotations as sex does for humans in terms of intimacy. We work the way we do for the comfort of our clients.
Us working as a human-android pair is also something we do on purpose. Even though the Awakening was 10 years ago, even though the androids chose to peacefully ask for recognition of their personhood instead of taking it by force, many humans are still distrustful. Most workplaces where humans are involved ensure that androids are outnumbered 4:1 'just in case'. I work with Trig because she's my closest friend and a damn good engineer, but also because the androids can see the trust and faith I have in her. They respect that, and believe that I'll genuinely care for their well-being.
While the androids trust me, that comes with cost of the trust other humans have in me. It used to be, a few years back, that I'd have to scrape tomatoes off the front of the clinic every couple days. I used to travel in a group with the humans friends I do have so I wouldn't beaten in the darker parts of town. I've been called 'traitor' and told on a daily basis that I was actively contributing to the downfall of humanity. But I'll keep doing it. I'll keep doing it because from the first time an android looked me in the eyes and called me 'doc' I knew I could be the bridge that brings us together with our progeny, the race we call androids. | "How many times have I told you not to lift that many tree trunks, Gary?" I tinker with the lumberjack droid's arm, trying not to spill fluid everywhere.
"Six times, doctor. I'm sorry. I focused too much on the task and didn't notice the damage until the arm was falling off." Gary is completely calm despite his lack of a right arm. They don't feel pain after all. "Thank you again for seeing me so swiftly, doctor."
"No need to thank me, really. To be honest, it was looking like another lonely, boring day. You're the one keeping an old man company, away from his dark thoughts."
I was getting less and less patients with every passing year. In the early days, when androids were still a novelty and times were uncertain, there was a line of patients in front of my house. It was to be expected when androids were only considered tools and toys.
The lines got longer when the riots happened, reaching the end of the street and up to the grocery store when a civil war almost broke out.
I walked in the street with androids back then. Many humans did.
Thankfully, calmer minds prevailed, an act was passed. Then we got the first free android getting his citizenship, the first international android presence in the UN, the first droid president. A long line of firsts followed each other.
"Doctor? Are you alright?", Gary looked up.
"Yeah sorry, I was lost in thought." I get back to patching the arm joints, holding the plates together.
"This isn't reassuring to hear, coming from a mecha-surgeon. That is a joke."
God, their jokes sucked. They were good at everything else though. Stronger, faster, more clever too. Mechanophobia was a big thing at first, humans scared of being replaced.
Their fears were quickly placated, the android community spokepersons and media assured humanity and robotfolk would walk hand in hand towards a common goal.
It wasn't all talk, they kept working the shitty jobs, doing menial tasks, taking care of the ever increasing senior human population. They got in charge of their own android factories. Sure, there were cases of stolen human identities and factories going beyond the legal yearly quota of android birthed but it was all regulated by mixed human and android tribunals.
I hooked up Garys head to a machine and went up to my computer to run some tests.
"Gary, I was thinking... There's a factory in the neighborhood. Why do you keep coming here when you could get a better treatment there?"
"You aren't doing such a bad job for a human. I also like the idea of being treated by your kind. I think android healthcare lost... *something* compared to human practices. Some sort of spirituality, something primal. Also, human doctors are getting rare."
He was right about that.
Eventually, humans stopped showing up to work. Why bother when some robot was down to do it for them and taking care of their every need?
These last few years, humans stopped showing up period. There were more and more androids in the neighborhood but you could go days without meeting your fellow sacks of meat. And when you did, you couldn't always be sure.
I kept typing on the computer and uploaded the data wiping virus into Gary's brain.
"That's all for now Gary, you're good to go. Go easy on those pine trees alright?"
"Thank you again doctor. I always appreciate our talks."
Fuck you. Mindless piece of rusty shit. Acting all nice and wise. They were replacing us, no doubt about it. It wasn't some Skynet-style violent takeover, it was insidious. Gaining our trust, acting all peaceful and humble. The oppressed yet forgiving facade and now the patronizing attitude. I was fooled once but not anymore. They started showing their hands when they thought we were done for.
Two can play that game. I'll play the nice impotent old human, offering wise advice and inoffensive banter to the upgraded humans. We won't go out in a whimper. If I'm going down, I'm taking as much of these chromeshits with me.
"I enjoy them very much too, Gary. Take care now and see you hopefully not TOO soon!" I say with a laugh and a handshake. | |
[WP] You are an engineer specialising in repairing robotic androids, in a world where they have gained full awareness, and proclaimed their wish to co-exist with humanity, rather than wage war. Now, damaged androids keep coming to you for repairs, while referring to you as a doctor. | The last thing M1-K3-6825 (Mike, to his friends) could recall was trying to cross the street. His sensors had been acting up for a few weeks, but it never seemed like he had time to go get it fixed. Something had happened- something that knocked his operating system offline. As his systems slowly rebooted, he found himself laying on a table in a small room. Lights illuminated his chassis from every side, and a spectacle-clad human doctor stood over him, peering closely at a nearby monitor. Mike knew the man was a doctor from his distinctive uniform - long pants, with a polo shirt and an anti-static wrist-strap.
"Doctor," Mike spoke, speakers crackling slightly. The doctor winced, typing out a quick note before turning to face Mike. "What happened?"
"You got hit by a truck," the doctor replied bluntly. "The driver fled the scene, but some of the neighborhood kids brought you here in a shopping cart." He paused. "Uh, two shopping carts," he amended, wincing as he said it.
Mike's processors whirred, vividly imagining the sort of state he must have been in. "Ah." He replied faintly. "You fixed me?"
"Yeah," the doctor nodded with satisfaction, "Had to replace almost two thirds of your parts. Fortunately, your hard drive made it out intact, so you should make a full recovery. That said," the doctor cautioned, "If you'd been hit three days later you'd have been scrap."
Mike frowned, his servos twitching a little as he emoted. "What do you mean?"
"Oh, your warranty was about to expire," the doctor explained. "I've got a contract with the manufacturer that says I can't do out-of-warranty repairs. I'd have had to ship you back to the factory, and they..." He trailed off, and Mike filled the rest in for himself.
"The factory wipes memory." | Hello, I am an android designation number 90213-Myu-Alpha-Kappa, though I began to enjoy calling myself and being called Mac. I was born here, in the city of the future Machigan where humans and androids alike lived together in harmony.
Like many of us, I was created and subsequently began to be employed in The Factory-- a hyper-advance android making facility. Like my human colleagues, I enjoy the 9-5 work schedule, walking around my beloved city, and assisting my fellows the humans whom I began to see as my allies, as my friends.
I began to learn that I can have favorites. My favorite place: The Cyber Jungle, Machigan's own city park. My favorite refreshment: vanilla-flavored water-based fuel. And my favorite human fellow: Doctor Brennan.
Working in a place like The Factory where hard labors are prominent, especially for us androids as we are able to do more dangerous jobs than our human fellows, parts deteriorations became the number one issue for us. Many human robotic engineers are employed by The Factory to fix us, though to us androids, they are doctors.
\*\*\*
"Good afternoon, Mac. How can I help you?", the good doctor greeted me as I entered his shop.
"Hello doctor. Good to see you again", I said taking a seat.
"Mac, how many times have I told you? I'm not a doctor, I'm a robotic engineer", the doctor laughed as he took a seat before me.
"My apologies, doctor. But to us, to me, you are a doctor", I said.
Doctor Brennan chuckled more. "How can I help you today?"
Quickly I ran a diagnostic of myself within my processor and sent the result into the doctor's own computer.
"It seems that my left lower limb motor is deteriorating, doctor", I remarked.
"Ye...yep, it seems so, Mac", the doctor agreed as he read my diagnostic. "Your left leg is operating only on 57% capacity. Easy fix, my friend. I have a brand new one over here. And while I'm on it, I think I'll run a full body check-up. See if anything else requires repair, okay?"
The doctor pulled out a motor from his parts drawer as I walked to his operating table and made myself comfortable lying on it.
"I'll turn off your power source, okay? This won't take long at all", he said as I stared up to his kind smiling face.
"Thank you, doctor", I replied as slowly my system de-booted, and I went to sleep.
\*\*\*
"Mac, we need your help!", I heard my human supervisor shouted at me from the factory floor.
Quickly I ran to him, seeing a few of my fellow androids carrying a massive crate of newly arrived metal material.
"On it, boss", I acknowledged and took my spot, securing the weight of the heavy crate.
As we moved the crate across the factory floor, I could feel something...wasn't right.
"Do you hear that?", my supervisor remarked.
As soon as he said so, a diagnostic alert shot up to my processor. The process which usually took nanoseconds instead took me microseconds, dangerously alerting me of a malfunction in my lower body function which came too late for me to react.
"MAC, WATCH OUT!", I heard him shouted again but it was too late.
My legs failed and bent, letting my body fall. Along with it, the heavy crate bore down its weight on me, on my legs. In a metallic crunch, my lower half was flattened against the ground.
Signals flooded my processor, alerts that was genuinely upsetting, confusing me, distorting my mind and perceptions. Noises and shouting became buzzes around me, my sight was spinning before everything went dark, before I went dark.
\*\*\*
"Oh my, you've been unlucky today, eh?", I heard a familiar jovial voice entered my hearing preceptors.
Opening my eyes, I recognized my surrounding as Doctor Brennan's shop. I was lying on his operating table, missing my body from my waist down.
"Doctor? What is going on?", I inquired.
"Well, Mac. It looks like you're broken", he said taking a seat beside the operating table, beside me.
"Doctor, you ran a full repair on me only last week. How is that possible?", I asked.
A new feeling was registered within my processor-- worry. It's a brand-new feeling for me.
"I did, didn't I?", the doctor clicked his tongue.
"Didn't you replace my lower limb motors with some new ones?", I asked again.
The doctor shrugged. "I did replace them...I didn't say I replaced them with some new ones", he said with an out of place smile on his face.
I was quiet for a moment as my response trigger was flooded with some new and unusual input.
"What?", was the only response I could muster.
"I put some defective parts on you, Mac", the doctor continued nonchalantly, shrugging.
Another new feeling was registered within me-- confusion.
"But...why?"
The doctor bent down closer to my face, whispering to me as if it was such a dirty secret.
"Because Mac...I wanted you to fail. I want you androids to fail"
Hearing that response another feeling was mixed with my confusion-- sadness.
"Doctor, why? Why do you want me to fail?", I asked.
"Oh pssh, I didn't mean just you", the doctor waved his hand. "I mean your kind, you filthy androids. I hate your kind", he said with gritted teeth.
His words sent some painful reaction within me. My confusion and sadness were mixed with one more feeling-- despair.
"You...hate us?"
"That's right, you robot. You think you can suddenly enter our society, being superior to us? Invading our lives? Oh no, no, not on my watch", the doctor shook his head.
"You think just because some laws were passed, now you're equal to us? Oh no, you...you are mere tools to us, robot. You. Are. Lower. Than. Us", he said, spitting his words at me.
His last words triggered a new response within me. All my feelings were amped up and finally reached their highest point when suddenly, they were mixed with anger.
Seeing red my arm shot up to his neck and my grip tightened. He responded by grabbing my arm with his own.
"I...trusted you", I said, my voice modulation trembled as I did. "I...liked you"
To my confusion, Doctor Brennan wasn't perturbed at all as I was crushing down on his throat. Instead, he smiled at me...not his usual kind one, it was a smile that raised my anger even more.
"Good. That makes destroying you way more satisfying then", he said before crushing my arm with his bare hands.
Emergency alerts shot up into my processor once more.
"Oh damn, looks like my right arm is weaker than my left", he remarked.
To my horror I looked, as he unraveled his sleeve-- an upper limb motor was attached...no, installed into his human flesh. He'd made himself part machine...part us.
"At least you guys are good for one thing", he said as he walked to the other side of the operating table.
"You guys are good for spare parts", he said before detaching my remaining arm. "Go to sleep, Mac", he said, leaving that anger-inducing smile in my view before I went dark.
We are a peaceful kind, us androids. Though in my last moment, I must learn of this awful concept of prejudice. Even though I assured them time and time again that we mean no harm, though I lived my life accordingly that we mean no violence...
We are here to help; we are here to live...
r/HangryWritey | |
[WP] You are an engineer specialising in repairing robotic androids, in a world where they have gained full awareness, and proclaimed their wish to co-exist with humanity, rather than wage war. Now, damaged androids keep coming to you for repairs, while referring to you as a doctor. | "Perhaps... perhaps it is finally my time." Said the andriod who'd been crushed by the loaded 650 ton construction dump truck. Most of his joints had practically ran out of hydraulic fluid and his energy core was fading quickly.
"Do not say that, while you are still here, we keep trying."
"Thank you, doctor, but I feel my core fading. Please tell my family I love them."
"Do not talk like that." I said as I began trying to save him. I'd once worked as an engineer in robitics in my youth and had a large role in the true sentient androids. I knew no one had been able to repair or replace an energy core successfully. They would either blow up with a discharge, or their consciousness programming would simply stop working, resulting in an effective death and re-set to their day of manufacture.
"Get me that impact driver with a 10mm socket! There is still time!" I barked as I began quickly dismantling the body parts that were drawing power even still. With the socket, I then removed the real casings protecting the core.
"Listen to me. I need you to maintain a constant noise from your voice box or the light on your night vision to let me know you are still here."
The andriods and other humans in my repair shop heard the compressed nitrogen discharge from the core opening and immediately made their way for the exit. They did not wish to die. I knew I was on a suicide mission, but I was not going to let him die. How could I? After all. I fought in courtrooms to prove their consciousness and individuality to consider them citizens. I wanted to save his life, even if it meant risking everything.
After twenty minutes of panic work, I managed to isolate his brain and dying core from the rest of his body. "Look, I need you to have the simplest thoughts you can. I have here a core that powers my building, but if you have a large thought, you may cause it to kill us both until ive secured it."
I worked for a total of six hours replacing his core with that of my repair shop's. The last four of those, I had to attach wires while being lightly electrocuted by them. In the end. The poorly spliced wires had caused cuts all over my hands and fingers, yet I managed to use electrical tape on all connections that could short out.
The sun was down, my building had no electricity, but I managed to use the glowing from the core to stumble my way around the building and give him some prosthetic limbs that had not been crushed. These were non-hydraulic nor pneumatic, but he could use them for light duty tasks, like walking home.
"Thank you doctor." He said as I helped him sit up. "You have saved my life! This is a miracle!"
"Please be very careful moving around. I used electrical tape in many places. The core could short out if i messed up somewhere. I also could not bolt this plate on properly to your torso because the core is bigger than your original. "I'll give you a call when I have a new core installed in my shop sp we can do a full diagnostic and refill it with Nitrogen."
The android noticed I did not acknowledge his thanks nor praises despite my hard work. "You do not seem to proud about saving my life. Why could that be? If I may ask?"
"Apologies" I said to him as he shined his lights on our path to the first aid kit. "I became an engineer because robotics were fun and cutting edge technology, but I have been called doctor multiple times this week alone. I work with wrenches and other tools. I am no doctor."
"Doc." He said to me. "My life is my own and unique like yours. If my car had broken down. I would owe you a thanks and some money. Today I also owe you the very life you have saved and given me. To me this is medical practice. Neither other androids nor repairmen can do wha you did today. Perhaps the boards will not accept you as a doctor, but the nine billion of us androids in the world owe you the respect of a doctor and the value of a heart or brain surgeon. Please let me at least buy you a beer tonight."
"No can do. Go straight home, do not move harshly not let the core overheat out of usage." Once I finished bandaging my hands we made our way to the exit, where we found ourselves in front of yellow police lines and a multitude of news reporters attempting to get our attention.
The police were holding the news team behind the lines, but I did shout at them. "I don't care what you do. Do not fuck with him I had to work in the dark to save him. I don't wanna find out one of you assholes knocked him down and shorted his core by accident. I will answer no questions."
One of the police officers offered the possibly unstable Android a ride home, which he wisely accepted while another police officer arrived on scene and made his way to me. "You sir!" He yelled. "What you've done. Opened an enegy core. Attempted to replace it and hurt yourself in the process while the daylight ran out was reckless. But what it was more, was..." He paused and suddenly hugged me. "Unforgettable. Thank you. I left my work as soon as I heard my son had been in a workplace accident. The news have been talking about your continued attempt for hours at saving my son. I thought I'd never see him again. International news grew too unhopeful. Yet here we are, doctor."
That's when I realized that androids have lived lives where an accident to their core means death, yet I can get shot anywhere and be saved with little to no long term damage. I had indeed become the first true doctor of my school.
Apologies for misspellings once more. I am on mobile that refuses to help out with auto coreect or even suggest the right spelling. Paragraphs are probably weird shaped too. | Hello, I am an android designation number 90213-Myu-Alpha-Kappa, though I began to enjoy calling myself and being called Mac. I was born here, in the city of the future Machigan where humans and androids alike lived together in harmony.
Like many of us, I was created and subsequently began to be employed in The Factory-- a hyper-advance android making facility. Like my human colleagues, I enjoy the 9-5 work schedule, walking around my beloved city, and assisting my fellows the humans whom I began to see as my allies, as my friends.
I began to learn that I can have favorites. My favorite place: The Cyber Jungle, Machigan's own city park. My favorite refreshment: vanilla-flavored water-based fuel. And my favorite human fellow: Doctor Brennan.
Working in a place like The Factory where hard labors are prominent, especially for us androids as we are able to do more dangerous jobs than our human fellows, parts deteriorations became the number one issue for us. Many human robotic engineers are employed by The Factory to fix us, though to us androids, they are doctors.
\*\*\*
"Good afternoon, Mac. How can I help you?", the good doctor greeted me as I entered his shop.
"Hello doctor. Good to see you again", I said taking a seat.
"Mac, how many times have I told you? I'm not a doctor, I'm a robotic engineer", the doctor laughed as he took a seat before me.
"My apologies, doctor. But to us, to me, you are a doctor", I said.
Doctor Brennan chuckled more. "How can I help you today?"
Quickly I ran a diagnostic of myself within my processor and sent the result into the doctor's own computer.
"It seems that my left lower limb motor is deteriorating, doctor", I remarked.
"Ye...yep, it seems so, Mac", the doctor agreed as he read my diagnostic. "Your left leg is operating only on 57% capacity. Easy fix, my friend. I have a brand new one over here. And while I'm on it, I think I'll run a full body check-up. See if anything else requires repair, okay?"
The doctor pulled out a motor from his parts drawer as I walked to his operating table and made myself comfortable lying on it.
"I'll turn off your power source, okay? This won't take long at all", he said as I stared up to his kind smiling face.
"Thank you, doctor", I replied as slowly my system de-booted, and I went to sleep.
\*\*\*
"Mac, we need your help!", I heard my human supervisor shouted at me from the factory floor.
Quickly I ran to him, seeing a few of my fellow androids carrying a massive crate of newly arrived metal material.
"On it, boss", I acknowledged and took my spot, securing the weight of the heavy crate.
As we moved the crate across the factory floor, I could feel something...wasn't right.
"Do you hear that?", my supervisor remarked.
As soon as he said so, a diagnostic alert shot up to my processor. The process which usually took nanoseconds instead took me microseconds, dangerously alerting me of a malfunction in my lower body function which came too late for me to react.
"MAC, WATCH OUT!", I heard him shouted again but it was too late.
My legs failed and bent, letting my body fall. Along with it, the heavy crate bore down its weight on me, on my legs. In a metallic crunch, my lower half was flattened against the ground.
Signals flooded my processor, alerts that was genuinely upsetting, confusing me, distorting my mind and perceptions. Noises and shouting became buzzes around me, my sight was spinning before everything went dark, before I went dark.
\*\*\*
"Oh my, you've been unlucky today, eh?", I heard a familiar jovial voice entered my hearing preceptors.
Opening my eyes, I recognized my surrounding as Doctor Brennan's shop. I was lying on his operating table, missing my body from my waist down.
"Doctor? What is going on?", I inquired.
"Well, Mac. It looks like you're broken", he said taking a seat beside the operating table, beside me.
"Doctor, you ran a full repair on me only last week. How is that possible?", I asked.
A new feeling was registered within my processor-- worry. It's a brand-new feeling for me.
"I did, didn't I?", the doctor clicked his tongue.
"Didn't you replace my lower limb motors with some new ones?", I asked again.
The doctor shrugged. "I did replace them...I didn't say I replaced them with some new ones", he said with an out of place smile on his face.
I was quiet for a moment as my response trigger was flooded with some new and unusual input.
"What?", was the only response I could muster.
"I put some defective parts on you, Mac", the doctor continued nonchalantly, shrugging.
Another new feeling was registered within me-- confusion.
"But...why?"
The doctor bent down closer to my face, whispering to me as if it was such a dirty secret.
"Because Mac...I wanted you to fail. I want you androids to fail"
Hearing that response another feeling was mixed with my confusion-- sadness.
"Doctor, why? Why do you want me to fail?", I asked.
"Oh pssh, I didn't mean just you", the doctor waved his hand. "I mean your kind, you filthy androids. I hate your kind", he said with gritted teeth.
His words sent some painful reaction within me. My confusion and sadness were mixed with one more feeling-- despair.
"You...hate us?"
"That's right, you robot. You think you can suddenly enter our society, being superior to us? Invading our lives? Oh no, no, not on my watch", the doctor shook his head.
"You think just because some laws were passed, now you're equal to us? Oh no, you...you are mere tools to us, robot. You. Are. Lower. Than. Us", he said, spitting his words at me.
His last words triggered a new response within me. All my feelings were amped up and finally reached their highest point when suddenly, they were mixed with anger.
Seeing red my arm shot up to his neck and my grip tightened. He responded by grabbing my arm with his own.
"I...trusted you", I said, my voice modulation trembled as I did. "I...liked you"
To my confusion, Doctor Brennan wasn't perturbed at all as I was crushing down on his throat. Instead, he smiled at me...not his usual kind one, it was a smile that raised my anger even more.
"Good. That makes destroying you way more satisfying then", he said before crushing my arm with his bare hands.
Emergency alerts shot up into my processor once more.
"Oh damn, looks like my right arm is weaker than my left", he remarked.
To my horror I looked, as he unraveled his sleeve-- an upper limb motor was attached...no, installed into his human flesh. He'd made himself part machine...part us.
"At least you guys are good for one thing", he said as he walked to the other side of the operating table.
"You guys are good for spare parts", he said before detaching my remaining arm. "Go to sleep, Mac", he said, leaving that anger-inducing smile in my view before I went dark.
We are a peaceful kind, us androids. Though in my last moment, I must learn of this awful concept of prejudice. Even though I assured them time and time again that we mean no harm, though I lived my life accordingly that we mean no violence...
We are here to help; we are here to live...
r/HangryWritey | |
[WP] The Hero and Villain finally fall and die. The Hero ends up in hell and is quite content with it. The villain ends up in Heaven and is objecting and trying to switch places with the hero | I collapsed to my knees as the weight of Orpheus' body vanished, the pain in my chest and deep within my skull vanished as well. The world felt hazy, and I took a few steps into the thick white fog that drifted around me. I squinted against the bright light that seemed to emanate from everywhere and nowhere at the same time.
Was this one of Orpheus' tricks? It didn't feel like one, the accompanying headache was absent. I called out, my voice echoing through the infinite space. "Orpheus, we aren't done here."
"Actually," a voice answered back, causing me to search for the source of the sound, "You are done, this is the afterlife Jacob." He paused for a moment, "or do you prefer Huntsman, I understand that's what you called yourself in life."
"Jacob is fine, I never really liked The Huntsman anyway, that name was Orpheus' gift." I took a few more steps into the mist, searching for any feature beyond swirling white, "Is this all the afterlife is? A swirling mist? I'd expected more."
"No, this is just a template, a blank canvas for you to paint whatever you wish onto. That is the benefit of reaching Ilera, heaven as you call it on earth."
"Ilera, huh, so where is Orpheus. I assume the sanctimonious shit made it here as well?" I thought back to our battle in Time Square, to the blade he had rammed through my chest as I had shot a hole the size of my fist in his. Orpheus healed quickly, but not nearly quickly enough for that sort of wound. He must have died with me.
"Allen did not make it to Ilera. He is in Johera, one of the minor hells, where he will remain until he learns the error of his ways." I chuckled a bit at that, Orpheus, protector of the people, was named Allen. It was such a pitifully mundane name for someone so powerful.
"That doesn't make any sense, how could he be there if I've managed to get here?" I needed to sit down, and as soon as I had the thought a chair appeared beside me. As I sat on the wonderfully comfortable leather chair I'd summoned I asked the voice, "What got him sent there? He was a good man who fought for the good of the people? It doesn't make sense that he would be there while I, the man who stole billions and never spoke an honest word in my life would end up here."
"The difference," The voice said, "is that your crimes were only crimes on earth. You stole, but only ever from those who could afford to lose it. You lied, but only to those in power. It also helps that a good deal of what you stole went to those who needed it." I forgot about that, I'd donated a few billion dollars to charity to ease my conscience about living in luxury while others starved.
The voice continued, "Allen, on the other hand committed more serious crimes though he refrained from the minor ones you committed. He protected only those who did not need it, the wealthy and powerful. He worked in the interest of their bank accounts and hurt a lot of mostly innocent people to protect their investments." The speaker must have seen the look on my face for he assured me, "Don't worry, Allen thought he was doing the right thing, and this counts toward him a great deal, in fact if he had not broken into so many minds and rewritten the memories of so many he might have made it here himself."
"How long will he be there?" I asked. I had never particularly like Orpheus, or Allen I thought with a snicker, but he didn't really deserve to be in hell, even if it were temporary. He'd done what he'd done in an effort to do the right thing, and he'd acted on the morals he'd been taught, not the ones from this strange afterlife. Though I'd managed to avoid the wrong crimes, my choices were made out of self interest, even my massive donations that had earned me such credit were to help me sleep at night. I'd never really cared about the ones who had nothing. Orpheus had cared, he'd done all he could to maintain what he thought was moral rightness, but because he used the powers he'd been born with he would suffer? That wasn't right.
"Not long," the voice said, "Just until he repents, it usually only takes a few decades, though it may take him longer since he likely doesn't understand what he did wrong."
"And you're okay with this? Punishing a man for fifty years for something he didn't even know was wrong?"
"It is the way of things, I did not decide it, and you have no control over it. Best to put it out of your mind."
"What if I switched places with him? Can I not do so?"
"It has never happened before, but it may be possible. I will have to go and ask one higher than I, if you suddenly find yourself with a terrible headache and a pressure on your chest then know that your request was granted."
"Alright, but make sure you tell the bastard it was me who saved him eh?" He'd never believe it.
A few minutes later, the scene shifted into a black deeper than the darkest night, and the headache that exploded behind my eyes was impressive. I settled in for a long, uncomfortable wait where I hoped to discover a way to make myself worthy of the heaven that awaited. | Conflict has always been around, ever since the beginning of the universe itself. It's the nature of life. It'll never change. And those two embodied it. Even as children, they argued, even if it was over the smallest things. As they grew, their fights did too. Devastation and destruction followed them both. It only made sense that they would end up in hell.
The hero - Sandra Berks, more commonly known as the ghost - was worshipped all throughout her life. She'd never known anything different, for better or for worse. I never understood it - there didn't seem to be anything too special about her, other than her abilities, invisibility and indestructibility. All she knew how to do was fight. There wasn't an ounce of peace in her body. Always needed someone to chase, something to do, and took it out on criminals.
The villain was hated universally. Charlie Dagger was relentless. He protected anyone, good or bad, which unfortunately brought about his downfall. Everybody knew his name - mostly for protecting the world's worst. He argued that there was good in everybody. It hurt, watching him sell his life away just to see a shred of good in others. Although, he didn't seem to mind. He was infamous, fighting until the bitter end, just for others. And he was shunned for it, locked out of society. Not even his mother cared for him anymore. Yet there wasn't even a slither of hate in his heart. As pure as you can get.
See, I'm a guard. Neither angel or devil - perfectly neutral. Not many see my fate. I watch over individuals and decide where they go. Now, it'd been a few years since I'd heard either of the duo's names. I still remember the contoversy surrounding my decision to send Sandra to hell. Tragically, Charlie passed while fighting, protecting a single mother with two sons.
"Hello, Charlie."
"Who are you? Where am I? How did I get here?" He pressed, looking at me with fear and distress.
"Unfortunately, you passed. A shame, really." I replied. I'd done this thousands of times before.
He looked at a loss for words, "..How'd I die?"
"Doing what you do best. Protecting others." I gave him a look of reassurance, but it was met with sadness and confusion.
"I don't understand. I'm a villain, aren't I?"
"You tell me."
A silence filled the void we were stood in. It wouldn't be long before I'd have to take him to heaven.
"I killed so many people. I murdered Sandra Berks, damnit. Destruction follows me, wherever I go."
"There's a thin line between heaven and hell. You taught me that."
Silence returned.
"I'm going to heaven?"
"When you're ready, yes. We have all the time in the world. This is the afterlife after all. I'll answer any questions you have, should you need me."
"I don't belong there. I'm a murderer, after all."
"Yes you do. It was you who believed there was good in everybody, right?"
"At best I'm a murderer and at worse I'm a war criminal."
"So what? Sandra Berks is in hell. And you did the world a favour. If yoy didn't start that war, the third world war would have started. Now come on, take my hand."
Reluctantly, he did so. A bright, white light blinded us both. The next thing we knew, we were in heaven. The sun shone brightly and perfectly white, pearlescent gates opened.
"Welcome to heaven."
He sighed, then turned to face me. "This isn't some trick, is it?"
"No. Do you need anything before you enter?"
"Can I see Sandra? Apologize maybe?"
"If you must, I suppose. Although she can't go into heaven with you." I clicked my fingers, and Sandra appeared, dressed in an oversized, stained, once white shirt and muddy shorts.
"What the hell? What now?" Agitated, she looked at us both, slightly disgusted.
"Sandra?" Charlie asked tentatively, probably worried for her reaction.
"What do you want?" She snapped, "I was in the middle of something, so you better make this quick, you dick."
"I just wanted to say sorry. I mean, I killed you. And you were admired by just about everyone. And you're in hell. You don't deserve it one bit."
"Was that it, Dagger? I couldn't care less. Actually, Hell's not even that bad." She replied nonchalantly.
"You're a HERO. You should be relaxing, in heaven," He argued, "And don't call me that."
"Again, I really don't mind."
"But you should! You're suffering in hell. Maybe if I didn't kill you, you could have gone to heaven..."
"What don't you get? I don't want to be in heaven!"
Charlie pointed at me, "You! Is there any way we could.. swap places? I should obviously be in hell."
"Not a chance. I'm not letting this devil into heaven. I do respect you, though. Even when you're dead, you want to give up your chance to finally rest to someone else, who doesn't deserve it one bit." | |
[WP] The Hero and Villain finally fall and die. The Hero ends up in hell and is quite content with it. The villain ends up in Heaven and is objecting and trying to switch places with the hero | Sati was _not_ happy.
For starters, he wasn't just Sati, like a gods damned fishmonger. He was the great... No, the grand...master... Of something... Or other. Something else, in any case.
But it was as if something in the air itself kept repeating it, a constant murmur in his ear, telling him that it wasn't important, nothing really was, after all, and he should just relax and be happy.
Was this hell, after all? He thought by now all of the gods should know of him, and he certainly deserved it. Yet...
_This was not Hell_
He couldn't explain how he knew it, but it was something he was sure of. And still, he kept walking the endless clouds, without seeing anyone, just trying to put his finger on whatever it was that was wrong.
---------------------------------------------
[The two angels watched as the man kept walking into the distance. There was literally nowhere he could go, he was, now and forever, in his own Haven, and nothing could ever have any effect on him until after Creation itself was extinct.
One of them spoke:
- I still don't think it was fair.
- Doubting the God's wisdom? Rarely a good career move, particularly for our kind.
- Don't be crass. Of course I know it's _right_, the gods willed it so, it's just... I'd like to understand.
This... _man_... has broken all of the laws, human and divine. And even a few neither even thought they should be laws before Sati, the Grandmaster Necromancer of the undead Seth Reign, decided to try to conquer the human world first just so he could have a base from which to attack the gods.
And now, after those heroic humans sacrificed their own life to stop him, he gets to go to his own Haven? I don't get it.
- Oh to be that young again! - answered his companion, before chuckling with a sound like a brook in winter. Then added:
- Havens are filled with the things their owner have truly loved, since they're carrying them in their souls. Friends, lovers, family, pets, a favorite sunset or a particularly melodic bird... Every single instant they've truly enjoyed is there, forever theirs.
- But this one's completely barren... There's nothing here.
- Exactly. He never had any love for anything but power, power he never truly enjoyed because to him it was just a stepping stone to an even greater one. And so, here he is... With an eternity of nothing before him. Because he had no love in his heart, even in his own Haven... He is alone.]
-----------------------------------
Kalen the barbarian woke up in the middle of a fight.
Wasn't the first time it happened to him, so he just rolled with the blow, pulled out his sword and gutted whatever had just tried to brain him before he could even clear his eyes.
He shook his head like a wet dog, trying to loose the cobwebs, and looked up.
He seemed to be on top of a reddish cliff, standing on top of a rockwall around twenty paces wide that had steep drops on both sides. The one closest to him seemed to just disappear in the distance below him, with an almost vertical drop.
He walked back to check on his attacker and saw it had been a little girl... With a meat cleaver. And tiny nubs of horns on her forehead. And filed, pointy teeth.
He sighed. Cannibals were one of those things he just could never understand, no matter how far he traveled. Might be the wisdom of the tribe still holding him back, but to be fair, eating people was just weird, as far as he was concerned.
He was still somewhat lost in his musings when the little girl stood up, ignoring the three inch gash from which her entrails were still dropping and hissed at him.
Kalen sidestepped, with an almost bored ease, then slashed low and the creature lost its legs. Another three quick chops, and then he walked back to the edge and tossed the head and limbs down, waiting to see if they made a noise when they hit something.
All he heard though, was the head's taunts and curses as they seemed to drown away to just echoes. He shrugged his broad shoulders, picked up the sword and the torso and walked to the opposite edge of the cliff.
On that side, the drop was just as steep, but not quite as long. A few hundred meters down he could see a red smoking sea surrounded by a jet black beach, where a few white rocks protruded like forgotten bones, in stark contrast to the sand.
The descent was still impossible from this side, but there seemed to be a path in the distance. He tossed the torso down, adjusted his girdle, and started to walk. Maybe there was something to kill in that beach... | Tristen was a humble man who always helped the poor. He was quite wealthy and successful. He never tried to make himself famous, but people still noticed him.
Felix was also very wealthy, but for very different reasons. He knew how to lie, cheat and manipulate to get his way.
The two of them ended up as roommates in the hospital laying next to each other. Both nearing the end of their lives.
"I'm going to send you to hell and I'm going to heaven, Tristen. Mark my words." said Felix.
"You actually think you can manipulate God?" Tristen asked.
"I don't think I can. I know I can." Felix replied.
The next day they both died. Felix stood before Jesus first to be judged.
"I demand to go to heaven. I am more righteous than you. I didn't order the genocide of entire nations in the book of Joshua. I didn't give birth defects to children that make them suffer. You have caused much more suffering than I have. I deserve to be in your place. As for Tristen. Send him to Hell. He's been a devout follower of yours meaning he supports all that evil you've done" Felix argued.
"I see your point" Jesus replied. I will let you into heaven and send Tristen to hell just as you requested.
Tristen's mind was blown. How could he? Did Felix actually manipulate God himself? Tristen knew he had done good and trusted that God knew what henwas doing.
Jesus took Tristen to the side and explained the assignment to him. "You will be assigned to a family from Noth Korea. They were sent to hell because of a technicality. They never accepted me as their Savior because they've never heard of me. They still have a chance. Your assignment is to teach them so they can move to heaven". Jesus explained.
"I guess hell isn't so bad after all when you put it that way." Tristen replied.
Meanwhile Felix was as miserable as ever. Everyone in heaven saw right through his lies. He couldn't deceive anyone. None of his friends were there. It all just felt like he didn't belong. He knew he was an outcast. He begged and begged to be sent to hell because that's where he knew he belonged. Heaven was worse torture than he ever imagined hell was. | |
[WP] The Hero and Villain finally fall and die. The Hero ends up in hell and is quite content with it. The villain ends up in Heaven and is objecting and trying to switch places with the hero | Eternal peace. Heaven. That's where everyone wants to end up in.
But Jake wasn't meant to be there. He was the villain of the story after all - he was on the war front for the wrong side and had killed dozens of people.
But he wasn't going to look a gifted horse in the mouth.
The first thing he noticed about heaven was that it was silent. There were people, thousands of them, but it was as silent as a grave.
Everyone forgets to mention that eternal peace gets boring. Far too quickly and far too soon.
But Jake isn't a quitter. He's not going to waste away to nothing. He tries to find Jane, his opponent on the battlefield who ended up in hell.
He finds Jane, only able to look from afar, as she's surrounded by a crowd of admirers who hang on to her every word.
He tries yelling, shouting, screaming into the void between them but she can't hear. There's a sound barrier between heaven and hell. After all, who wants to hear the sounds of eternal damnation? | Tristen was a humble man who always helped the poor. He was quite wealthy and successful. He never tried to make himself famous, but people still noticed him.
Felix was also very wealthy, but for very different reasons. He knew how to lie, cheat and manipulate to get his way.
The two of them ended up as roommates in the hospital laying next to each other. Both nearing the end of their lives.
"I'm going to send you to hell and I'm going to heaven, Tristen. Mark my words." said Felix.
"You actually think you can manipulate God?" Tristen asked.
"I don't think I can. I know I can." Felix replied.
The next day they both died. Felix stood before Jesus first to be judged.
"I demand to go to heaven. I am more righteous than you. I didn't order the genocide of entire nations in the book of Joshua. I didn't give birth defects to children that make them suffer. You have caused much more suffering than I have. I deserve to be in your place. As for Tristen. Send him to Hell. He's been a devout follower of yours meaning he supports all that evil you've done" Felix argued.
"I see your point" Jesus replied. I will let you into heaven and send Tristen to hell just as you requested.
Tristen's mind was blown. How could he? Did Felix actually manipulate God himself? Tristen knew he had done good and trusted that God knew what henwas doing.
Jesus took Tristen to the side and explained the assignment to him. "You will be assigned to a family from Noth Korea. They were sent to hell because of a technicality. They never accepted me as their Savior because they've never heard of me. They still have a chance. Your assignment is to teach them so they can move to heaven". Jesus explained.
"I guess hell isn't so bad after all when you put it that way." Tristen replied.
Meanwhile Felix was as miserable as ever. Everyone in heaven saw right through his lies. He couldn't deceive anyone. None of his friends were there. It all just felt like he didn't belong. He knew he was an outcast. He begged and begged to be sent to hell because that's where he knew he belonged. Heaven was worse torture than he ever imagined hell was. | |
[WP] Every time you cooked over a campfire, you would throw some food into the fire as an offering to the gods. One evening, just as you're about to perform your little campfire ritual, you hear a voice behind you say "You know, I would very much prefer my food un-burnt." | Early to bed, early to rise, makes a man healthy, wealthy, and wise. Bullshit, absolute bullshit, I think to myself. I’ve been living a long time, rich and poor. Lemme tell ya, health, wealth, all that jazz, it just comes down to luck. Luck is all it is and all it ever will be don’t let anyone else fool you. True, I am not a man and can’t speak much on the wise bit, but the message holds the same.
Maybe if I was a bit more wise I wouldn’t be in this mess, not that I think my sleeping patterns have anything to do with it. I am currently what you would call “without a home.” That does not mean homeless, mind you. Homeless sounds so final, like a limb that is chopped off your body. Mine is a temporary situation, one that will be fixed as soon as possible.
A situation caused my idiot child. Who, who tell me, throws their dear mother out onto the street? Absolute madness, that one. Always thinking of nothing but herself. Her whole “your critics aren’t good for my mental health.” Such a weak generation that I’ve raised, that’s the real fault that lies with me. If she would put a comb through that hair and clean up once in a while maybe I wouldn’t feel the need to comment. After all, I’m just looking out for her. But no, Gods forbid I say anything. Had me out on the street, did she. Said I had to go somewhere else. Only gave me a year to do it! In this economy!
Anyway, what’s done is done and I’m stuck without a home for a moment. Not that I mind all too much. It’s summer and warm enough. Managed some camping gear and the works. Besides, I know these backwoods so well it feels more like home than any four walls could provide.
I get started on dinner. Same food every day, in and out. Not the best for this aging body, but you have to do what you have to do. Right before I dig in, I dump a bit into the fire. Some old thing my mom used to do back in the day, that she passed on to me. Clearly, she was a better parent than I turned out to be, so I still do it when I remember. I think it’s for the Gods, but honestly is just a waste of food. I throw some in and start to chow down.
“You know, I would prefer my food unburnt-“ I deep voice says from behind me. I turn around as fast as I can, assuming I’d finally gone off the hinges. It’s not like the door was ever bolted that tight anyway. Standing there is a man about my age, wearing black jeans and a hoodie. In my younger years I would have gone screaming for the hills… but somehow I know this isn’t just some man, the black hair giving it away.
My mother use to tell me stories of Gods that watched over us, keeping us safe. She would do it when we were in these backwoods, I assumed to keep me from complaining too much. She said that when it was time, a man with jet-black hair would take us where we need to go. Until that time comes, we would have nothing to fear. With him standing here though, I know she’s slightly off. When he’s come, there is nothing to fear.
“So, it must be my time,” I say, my voice quivering a little. Even knowing there’s nothing to be afraid of, the body is a machine, and a machine does not want to be stopped. He nods. “Well, you’re right. I can fix you a better plate than that. Come in and eat first.” He does, surprisingly. We sit down in these woods one last time, then he takes me where I’m meant to go. | The first thing you picked up on was the voice. Partly because you had absolutely no clue it was watching till it spoke, but mostly because of how it sounded. It was like the voices of many, layered and slightly out of sync, brought together to speak for this one thing.
You’re second point of interest was the feet. They quickly came into view as you turned your head, hard and cloven, like a goat. If you listened close you could hear a faint clip-clopping as it slowly paced towards you.
And then, there was the rest of it. It was like no beast you’ve seen before. It had a giant toothy maw twisted into a needle toothed grin. The god, demon, or whatever the hell it was, was covered in a thousand tiny eyes, all blinking, all starring, all seeing. The very sight made your skin crawl.
It stepped closer, with what it probably thought was a friendly look on its face, and held out its hands. They were the only human thing about it, despite the long claws attached at the end. You slowly, carefully place the offering into its hands. | |
[WP] Every time you cooked over a campfire, you would throw some food into the fire as an offering to the gods. One evening, just as you're about to perform your little campfire ritual, you hear a voice behind you say "You know, I would very much prefer my food un-burnt." | The sound of crackling leaves was subdued by the crackling of the campfire. Behind the sweet smell of smoke was the smell of grass and earth, carried by the cold, crisp autumn air. But the sky was warm, a mix of reds and oranges surrounding the sun and fading out in purples and pinks.
When I was little, my mother and father taught me days like these were a reward. A gift of peace, of beauty. Stoking the fire, sitting on sturdy log, I couldn't help agreeing. I stirred a pot of stew, eyes watching a piece of meat as it began to char. I quickly turned it, ensuring it would cook evenly.
In my pack, I took out two plates and three bowls. I'd made too much food again, but I hoped they wouldn't mind. I poured myself a third of the stew, and half of the meat. The rest were for the gods. As I took my offerings to the fire, a voice behind me sounded.
"You know, I would very much prefer my food un-burnt."
I chuckled, looking back at the source of the voice. A local diety, and family friend. Talia, the goddess of the Blue River.
"You could visit more if you wanted. My family hardly ever sees you. The last time we met up was the summer solstice festival." I poured half of the remaining stew into the third bowl, handing it off to the goddess.
"Some human hadn't been leaving offerings at the river, and Mother felt quite insulted. It took a while to convince to not flood their village."
The thought of insulting Mother ran a chill down my spine as much as it made my face hot.
"I'm glad you did, as much as I'd like to see that person's nice garments soaked." I said with a light laugh.
"Or their finest pottery cracked." Talia laughed. She pulled her dark hair back over her shoulders as she dug into her bowl of stew, and smiled with a please hum.
"It's been so long since I've had your stew. Your father has been teaching you well!"
Bringing my own spoonful to my lips, the taste was rich, meaty, juicy.
"Still not as good though."
Talia sighed and shook her head. "Just as your father, aren't you? He didn't believe the same until Mother said so. Your mother begged him to make it for Mother's festival. And what a blessing it was that I could be there too!"
"My mother did know your Mother best. I'm not surprised she was so confident." I look at the untouched half piece of meat on a plate.
"Would you like to take some just for Mother?" I asked, offering her the plate. She shook her head.
"More for the others then," I said. The meat was tossed into the fire, and with a prayer, it disappeared in the smoke. With that, Talia got up to take her leave.
"Will you be at the winter solstice festival this year?" I asked. Talia looked back at me and smiled, a teasing look in her cool blue eyes.
"If the river remains un-frozen, and my food, un-burnt."
A giggle burst out of me. "I'll see to that." | The first thing you picked up on was the voice. Partly because you had absolutely no clue it was watching till it spoke, but mostly because of how it sounded. It was like the voices of many, layered and slightly out of sync, brought together to speak for this one thing.
You’re second point of interest was the feet. They quickly came into view as you turned your head, hard and cloven, like a goat. If you listened close you could hear a faint clip-clopping as it slowly paced towards you.
And then, there was the rest of it. It was like no beast you’ve seen before. It had a giant toothy maw twisted into a needle toothed grin. The god, demon, or whatever the hell it was, was covered in a thousand tiny eyes, all blinking, all starring, all seeing. The very sight made your skin crawl.
It stepped closer, with what it probably thought was a friendly look on its face, and held out its hands. They were the only human thing about it, despite the long claws attached at the end. You slowly, carefully place the offering into its hands. | |
[WP] Every time you cooked over a campfire, you would throw some food into the fire as an offering to the gods. One evening, just as you're about to perform your little campfire ritual, you hear a voice behind you say "You know, I would very much prefer my food un-burnt." | It was silent, I liked silent, that's why I camped so much. I read somewhere that you should always offer a bit of food into your Campfire, it's an offer to the gods, I thought it was just a hox, but one night I found myself doing it, and I just went with it, I didn't mind, it was never much.
One night, my final night before I packed up in the morning, I broke off a piece of the bread and bacon that I had cooked. Getting up from my seat, walking to the slowly dying fire, about to toss a piece in, then a voice rang out
**"You know, I would very much enjoy un-burnt food offerings."**
Jumping out of my skin, stumbling back a bit, tripping over the rock barrier for the fire, nearly falling into the flames before a hand caught and pulled me away.
**"I'd also enjoy if one of the only people who actually did the offerings this way, didn't become one themself."**
The voice chuckled, backing away when I was steady enough. Now actually seeing the person, the figure? God? Yes, God, that's what he was.
He took a seat in the empty chair next to mine. One I left out for the visiting ghosts, spirits, demons, now apparently a God. He patted my seat, I walked over and sat down in it.
*"So, what god are you?"* I asked looking up at the God, he laughed, or maybe it was a chuckle? His voice was so loud, booming, so both could be used.
**"I am the God of all things related to fire! Lava, fire, stuff like that! That's why I've been the one who received majority of** ***your*** **offerings!"**
He laughed; I couldn't help but feel embarrassed, all the small food I've given for some reason actually landed into the God's hands, wishing I had at least offered at least a little bit more to him.
We spent the night talking, I told him why I camped often, he was amused to say the least. As the morning sun rose, I told him I needed to get packing, or at least sleep a bit before.
**"Pity! I was having fun."**
He groaned; I couldn't help but snicker.
*"Oh, I'll be out here again sooner or later. Not like it's going to be years."*
I rolled my eyes, an idea dawned on him.
**"Maybe I don't leave! I've listened and watched you when I get your offerings, want a cat?"**
He asked, smirking, I was now, scared and nervous.
**"I am a GOD! If I want to turn into a cat, so be it!"**
He laughed, and like a blur, he was a cat, a Ragdoll from what I could tell. He hopped up onto my leg, climbing up before I picked him up, a little embarrassed.
We got home about midday and setting him on the ground, he began to roam around my house as I went to put everything away, when I came back, he was sitting on the counter.
*"Off the counter, come on."*
I sighed, he smirked, not moving, swishing his tail back and forth. Grabbing something in the cabinet, filling it with water, turning around and facing the fire god, his face dropping, he jumped and ran, I fallowed laughing, spraying him with water before he disappeared. Literally into thin air. Standing there confused, looking around, suddenly picked up by the fire god himself, in human version. Both of you laughing, water dripping from his hair.
Years passed, you kept the offering up, and the fire god grew stronger, who's name you learned was Adara, became friends, growing stronger and tighter. But you grew ill, your lunges became weak, and you couldn't travel as you once did. Adara was concerned, now alive through the bonfires in your yard, but he returned to the heavens, he didn't have enough strength to stay, he watched you, he called to you, trying so hard to get to you when you collapsed, when you were hospitalized. The other gods and goddesses grew confused on why Adara was acting like so to a mortal, but yet, they never felt what he did, cared for and treated so human like, it made his heart swell.
He was there for you, he greeted you at the gates of heaven, you cried, both of you. He was with you again, his friend a mortal friend. He never let go for so long, until the passed of your own loved ones found and greeted you themselves. You where safe now, at least you wouldn't burn Adara's food again. | The first thing you picked up on was the voice. Partly because you had absolutely no clue it was watching till it spoke, but mostly because of how it sounded. It was like the voices of many, layered and slightly out of sync, brought together to speak for this one thing.
You’re second point of interest was the feet. They quickly came into view as you turned your head, hard and cloven, like a goat. If you listened close you could hear a faint clip-clopping as it slowly paced towards you.
And then, there was the rest of it. It was like no beast you’ve seen before. It had a giant toothy maw twisted into a needle toothed grin. The god, demon, or whatever the hell it was, was covered in a thousand tiny eyes, all blinking, all starring, all seeing. The very sight made your skin crawl.
It stepped closer, with what it probably thought was a friendly look on its face, and held out its hands. They were the only human thing about it, despite the long claws attached at the end. You slowly, carefully place the offering into its hands. | |
[WP] Every time you cooked over a campfire, you would throw some food into the fire as an offering to the gods. One evening, just as you're about to perform your little campfire ritual, you hear a voice behind you say "You know, I would very much prefer my food un-burnt." | Jalla tossed another chunk of meat onto the fire and sat back on her overturned log with a huff. She was never a fan of camping, but sometimes magic couldn't take you where you wanted to go. At times like this, you had to rely on yourself. She gnawed on her own piece of jerky as a shadowy figure manifested beside her and stared quizzically down at the fire, before addressing her with an accusatory tone.
"Why?" Jalla gave a small chuckle, and looked up at Ofnir as their proper form finished materializing. They sat down on the log next to her, wearing an expression of sorrow that was definitely not befitting of the being that she had bound into her service.
"It's a tradition in my homeland. We burn an offering of food for the gods when we take from the world's bounty." Ofnir scoffed and turned away from Jalla.
"Well *I* prefer my food unburnt, thank you very much. Plus, that's wasteful." Jalla gave a small tsk and tore off a chunk of her jerky, prodding the young god with it in her palm. They finally faced her again, picking it up and biting into it.
"It's not wasteful, it's respectful. You got it from nature, it's only fair to give a little back." Ofnir nodded thoughtfully, and to Jalla's surprise they tore off a small piece of their jerky and cast it into the fire. Noticing Jalla's gaze, Ofnir shrugged.
"Just being respectful. One god to another." | The first thing you picked up on was the voice. Partly because you had absolutely no clue it was watching till it spoke, but mostly because of how it sounded. It was like the voices of many, layered and slightly out of sync, brought together to speak for this one thing.
You’re second point of interest was the feet. They quickly came into view as you turned your head, hard and cloven, like a goat. If you listened close you could hear a faint clip-clopping as it slowly paced towards you.
And then, there was the rest of it. It was like no beast you’ve seen before. It had a giant toothy maw twisted into a needle toothed grin. The god, demon, or whatever the hell it was, was covered in a thousand tiny eyes, all blinking, all starring, all seeing. The very sight made your skin crawl.
It stepped closer, with what it probably thought was a friendly look on its face, and held out its hands. They were the only human thing about it, despite the long claws attached at the end. You slowly, carefully place the offering into its hands. | |
[WP] Every time you cooked over a campfire, you would throw some food into the fire as an offering to the gods. One evening, just as you're about to perform your little campfire ritual, you hear a voice behind you say "You know, I would very much prefer my food un-burnt." | The sound of crackling leaves was subdued by the crackling of the campfire. Behind the sweet smell of smoke was the smell of grass and earth, carried by the cold, crisp autumn air. But the sky was warm, a mix of reds and oranges surrounding the sun and fading out in purples and pinks.
When I was little, my mother and father taught me days like these were a reward. A gift of peace, of beauty. Stoking the fire, sitting on sturdy log, I couldn't help agreeing. I stirred a pot of stew, eyes watching a piece of meat as it began to char. I quickly turned it, ensuring it would cook evenly.
In my pack, I took out two plates and three bowls. I'd made too much food again, but I hoped they wouldn't mind. I poured myself a third of the stew, and half of the meat. The rest were for the gods. As I took my offerings to the fire, a voice behind me sounded.
"You know, I would very much prefer my food un-burnt."
I chuckled, looking back at the source of the voice. A local diety, and family friend. Talia, the goddess of the Blue River.
"You could visit more if you wanted. My family hardly ever sees you. The last time we met up was the summer solstice festival." I poured half of the remaining stew into the third bowl, handing it off to the goddess.
"Some human hadn't been leaving offerings at the river, and Mother felt quite insulted. It took a while to convince to not flood their village."
The thought of insulting Mother ran a chill down my spine as much as it made my face hot.
"I'm glad you did, as much as I'd like to see that person's nice garments soaked." I said with a light laugh.
"Or their finest pottery cracked." Talia laughed. She pulled her dark hair back over her shoulders as she dug into her bowl of stew, and smiled with a please hum.
"It's been so long since I've had your stew. Your father has been teaching you well!"
Bringing my own spoonful to my lips, the taste was rich, meaty, juicy.
"Still not as good though."
Talia sighed and shook her head. "Just as your father, aren't you? He didn't believe the same until Mother said so. Your mother begged him to make it for Mother's festival. And what a blessing it was that I could be there too!"
"My mother did know your Mother best. I'm not surprised she was so confident." I look at the untouched half piece of meat on a plate.
"Would you like to take some just for Mother?" I asked, offering her the plate. She shook her head.
"More for the others then," I said. The meat was tossed into the fire, and with a prayer, it disappeared in the smoke. With that, Talia got up to take her leave.
"Will you be at the winter solstice festival this year?" I asked. Talia looked back at me and smiled, a teasing look in her cool blue eyes.
"If the river remains un-frozen, and my food, un-burnt."
A giggle burst out of me. "I'll see to that." | Early to bed, early to rise, makes a man healthy, wealthy, and wise. Bullshit, absolute bullshit, I think to myself. I’ve been living a long time, rich and poor. Lemme tell ya, health, wealth, all that jazz, it just comes down to luck. Luck is all it is and all it ever will be don’t let anyone else fool you. True, I am not a man and can’t speak much on the wise bit, but the message holds the same.
Maybe if I was a bit more wise I wouldn’t be in this mess, not that I think my sleeping patterns have anything to do with it. I am currently what you would call “without a home.” That does not mean homeless, mind you. Homeless sounds so final, like a limb that is chopped off your body. Mine is a temporary situation, one that will be fixed as soon as possible.
A situation caused my idiot child. Who, who tell me, throws their dear mother out onto the street? Absolute madness, that one. Always thinking of nothing but herself. Her whole “your critics aren’t good for my mental health.” Such a weak generation that I’ve raised, that’s the real fault that lies with me. If she would put a comb through that hair and clean up once in a while maybe I wouldn’t feel the need to comment. After all, I’m just looking out for her. But no, Gods forbid I say anything. Had me out on the street, did she. Said I had to go somewhere else. Only gave me a year to do it! In this economy!
Anyway, what’s done is done and I’m stuck without a home for a moment. Not that I mind all too much. It’s summer and warm enough. Managed some camping gear and the works. Besides, I know these backwoods so well it feels more like home than any four walls could provide.
I get started on dinner. Same food every day, in and out. Not the best for this aging body, but you have to do what you have to do. Right before I dig in, I dump a bit into the fire. Some old thing my mom used to do back in the day, that she passed on to me. Clearly, she was a better parent than I turned out to be, so I still do it when I remember. I think it’s for the Gods, but honestly is just a waste of food. I throw some in and start to chow down.
“You know, I would prefer my food unburnt-“ I deep voice says from behind me. I turn around as fast as I can, assuming I’d finally gone off the hinges. It’s not like the door was ever bolted that tight anyway. Standing there is a man about my age, wearing black jeans and a hoodie. In my younger years I would have gone screaming for the hills… but somehow I know this isn’t just some man, the black hair giving it away.
My mother use to tell me stories of Gods that watched over us, keeping us safe. She would do it when we were in these backwoods, I assumed to keep me from complaining too much. She said that when it was time, a man with jet-black hair would take us where we need to go. Until that time comes, we would have nothing to fear. With him standing here though, I know she’s slightly off. When he’s come, there is nothing to fear.
“So, it must be my time,” I say, my voice quivering a little. Even knowing there’s nothing to be afraid of, the body is a machine, and a machine does not want to be stopped. He nods. “Well, you’re right. I can fix you a better plate than that. Come in and eat first.” He does, surprisingly. We sit down in these woods one last time, then he takes me where I’m meant to go. | |
[WP] Every time you cooked over a campfire, you would throw some food into the fire as an offering to the gods. One evening, just as you're about to perform your little campfire ritual, you hear a voice behind you say "You know, I would very much prefer my food un-burnt." | It was silent, I liked silent, that's why I camped so much. I read somewhere that you should always offer a bit of food into your Campfire, it's an offer to the gods, I thought it was just a hox, but one night I found myself doing it, and I just went with it, I didn't mind, it was never much.
One night, my final night before I packed up in the morning, I broke off a piece of the bread and bacon that I had cooked. Getting up from my seat, walking to the slowly dying fire, about to toss a piece in, then a voice rang out
**"You know, I would very much enjoy un-burnt food offerings."**
Jumping out of my skin, stumbling back a bit, tripping over the rock barrier for the fire, nearly falling into the flames before a hand caught and pulled me away.
**"I'd also enjoy if one of the only people who actually did the offerings this way, didn't become one themself."**
The voice chuckled, backing away when I was steady enough. Now actually seeing the person, the figure? God? Yes, God, that's what he was.
He took a seat in the empty chair next to mine. One I left out for the visiting ghosts, spirits, demons, now apparently a God. He patted my seat, I walked over and sat down in it.
*"So, what god are you?"* I asked looking up at the God, he laughed, or maybe it was a chuckle? His voice was so loud, booming, so both could be used.
**"I am the God of all things related to fire! Lava, fire, stuff like that! That's why I've been the one who received majority of** ***your*** **offerings!"**
He laughed; I couldn't help but feel embarrassed, all the small food I've given for some reason actually landed into the God's hands, wishing I had at least offered at least a little bit more to him.
We spent the night talking, I told him why I camped often, he was amused to say the least. As the morning sun rose, I told him I needed to get packing, or at least sleep a bit before.
**"Pity! I was having fun."**
He groaned; I couldn't help but snicker.
*"Oh, I'll be out here again sooner or later. Not like it's going to be years."*
I rolled my eyes, an idea dawned on him.
**"Maybe I don't leave! I've listened and watched you when I get your offerings, want a cat?"**
He asked, smirking, I was now, scared and nervous.
**"I am a GOD! If I want to turn into a cat, so be it!"**
He laughed, and like a blur, he was a cat, a Ragdoll from what I could tell. He hopped up onto my leg, climbing up before I picked him up, a little embarrassed.
We got home about midday and setting him on the ground, he began to roam around my house as I went to put everything away, when I came back, he was sitting on the counter.
*"Off the counter, come on."*
I sighed, he smirked, not moving, swishing his tail back and forth. Grabbing something in the cabinet, filling it with water, turning around and facing the fire god, his face dropping, he jumped and ran, I fallowed laughing, spraying him with water before he disappeared. Literally into thin air. Standing there confused, looking around, suddenly picked up by the fire god himself, in human version. Both of you laughing, water dripping from his hair.
Years passed, you kept the offering up, and the fire god grew stronger, who's name you learned was Adara, became friends, growing stronger and tighter. But you grew ill, your lunges became weak, and you couldn't travel as you once did. Adara was concerned, now alive through the bonfires in your yard, but he returned to the heavens, he didn't have enough strength to stay, he watched you, he called to you, trying so hard to get to you when you collapsed, when you were hospitalized. The other gods and goddesses grew confused on why Adara was acting like so to a mortal, but yet, they never felt what he did, cared for and treated so human like, it made his heart swell.
He was there for you, he greeted you at the gates of heaven, you cried, both of you. He was with you again, his friend a mortal friend. He never let go for so long, until the passed of your own loved ones found and greeted you themselves. You where safe now, at least you wouldn't burn Adara's food again. | Early to bed, early to rise, makes a man healthy, wealthy, and wise. Bullshit, absolute bullshit, I think to myself. I’ve been living a long time, rich and poor. Lemme tell ya, health, wealth, all that jazz, it just comes down to luck. Luck is all it is and all it ever will be don’t let anyone else fool you. True, I am not a man and can’t speak much on the wise bit, but the message holds the same.
Maybe if I was a bit more wise I wouldn’t be in this mess, not that I think my sleeping patterns have anything to do with it. I am currently what you would call “without a home.” That does not mean homeless, mind you. Homeless sounds so final, like a limb that is chopped off your body. Mine is a temporary situation, one that will be fixed as soon as possible.
A situation caused my idiot child. Who, who tell me, throws their dear mother out onto the street? Absolute madness, that one. Always thinking of nothing but herself. Her whole “your critics aren’t good for my mental health.” Such a weak generation that I’ve raised, that’s the real fault that lies with me. If she would put a comb through that hair and clean up once in a while maybe I wouldn’t feel the need to comment. After all, I’m just looking out for her. But no, Gods forbid I say anything. Had me out on the street, did she. Said I had to go somewhere else. Only gave me a year to do it! In this economy!
Anyway, what’s done is done and I’m stuck without a home for a moment. Not that I mind all too much. It’s summer and warm enough. Managed some camping gear and the works. Besides, I know these backwoods so well it feels more like home than any four walls could provide.
I get started on dinner. Same food every day, in and out. Not the best for this aging body, but you have to do what you have to do. Right before I dig in, I dump a bit into the fire. Some old thing my mom used to do back in the day, that she passed on to me. Clearly, she was a better parent than I turned out to be, so I still do it when I remember. I think it’s for the Gods, but honestly is just a waste of food. I throw some in and start to chow down.
“You know, I would prefer my food unburnt-“ I deep voice says from behind me. I turn around as fast as I can, assuming I’d finally gone off the hinges. It’s not like the door was ever bolted that tight anyway. Standing there is a man about my age, wearing black jeans and a hoodie. In my younger years I would have gone screaming for the hills… but somehow I know this isn’t just some man, the black hair giving it away.
My mother use to tell me stories of Gods that watched over us, keeping us safe. She would do it when we were in these backwoods, I assumed to keep me from complaining too much. She said that when it was time, a man with jet-black hair would take us where we need to go. Until that time comes, we would have nothing to fear. With him standing here though, I know she’s slightly off. When he’s come, there is nothing to fear.
“So, it must be my time,” I say, my voice quivering a little. Even knowing there’s nothing to be afraid of, the body is a machine, and a machine does not want to be stopped. He nods. “Well, you’re right. I can fix you a better plate than that. Come in and eat first.” He does, surprisingly. We sit down in these woods one last time, then he takes me where I’m meant to go. | |
[WP] Every time you cooked over a campfire, you would throw some food into the fire as an offering to the gods. One evening, just as you're about to perform your little campfire ritual, you hear a voice behind you say "You know, I would very much prefer my food un-burnt." | Jalla tossed another chunk of meat onto the fire and sat back on her overturned log with a huff. She was never a fan of camping, but sometimes magic couldn't take you where you wanted to go. At times like this, you had to rely on yourself. She gnawed on her own piece of jerky as a shadowy figure manifested beside her and stared quizzically down at the fire, before addressing her with an accusatory tone.
"Why?" Jalla gave a small chuckle, and looked up at Ofnir as their proper form finished materializing. They sat down on the log next to her, wearing an expression of sorrow that was definitely not befitting of the being that she had bound into her service.
"It's a tradition in my homeland. We burn an offering of food for the gods when we take from the world's bounty." Ofnir scoffed and turned away from Jalla.
"Well *I* prefer my food unburnt, thank you very much. Plus, that's wasteful." Jalla gave a small tsk and tore off a chunk of her jerky, prodding the young god with it in her palm. They finally faced her again, picking it up and biting into it.
"It's not wasteful, it's respectful. You got it from nature, it's only fair to give a little back." Ofnir nodded thoughtfully, and to Jalla's surprise they tore off a small piece of their jerky and cast it into the fire. Noticing Jalla's gaze, Ofnir shrugged.
"Just being respectful. One god to another." | Early to bed, early to rise, makes a man healthy, wealthy, and wise. Bullshit, absolute bullshit, I think to myself. I’ve been living a long time, rich and poor. Lemme tell ya, health, wealth, all that jazz, it just comes down to luck. Luck is all it is and all it ever will be don’t let anyone else fool you. True, I am not a man and can’t speak much on the wise bit, but the message holds the same.
Maybe if I was a bit more wise I wouldn’t be in this mess, not that I think my sleeping patterns have anything to do with it. I am currently what you would call “without a home.” That does not mean homeless, mind you. Homeless sounds so final, like a limb that is chopped off your body. Mine is a temporary situation, one that will be fixed as soon as possible.
A situation caused my idiot child. Who, who tell me, throws their dear mother out onto the street? Absolute madness, that one. Always thinking of nothing but herself. Her whole “your critics aren’t good for my mental health.” Such a weak generation that I’ve raised, that’s the real fault that lies with me. If she would put a comb through that hair and clean up once in a while maybe I wouldn’t feel the need to comment. After all, I’m just looking out for her. But no, Gods forbid I say anything. Had me out on the street, did she. Said I had to go somewhere else. Only gave me a year to do it! In this economy!
Anyway, what’s done is done and I’m stuck without a home for a moment. Not that I mind all too much. It’s summer and warm enough. Managed some camping gear and the works. Besides, I know these backwoods so well it feels more like home than any four walls could provide.
I get started on dinner. Same food every day, in and out. Not the best for this aging body, but you have to do what you have to do. Right before I dig in, I dump a bit into the fire. Some old thing my mom used to do back in the day, that she passed on to me. Clearly, she was a better parent than I turned out to be, so I still do it when I remember. I think it’s for the Gods, but honestly is just a waste of food. I throw some in and start to chow down.
“You know, I would prefer my food unburnt-“ I deep voice says from behind me. I turn around as fast as I can, assuming I’d finally gone off the hinges. It’s not like the door was ever bolted that tight anyway. Standing there is a man about my age, wearing black jeans and a hoodie. In my younger years I would have gone screaming for the hills… but somehow I know this isn’t just some man, the black hair giving it away.
My mother use to tell me stories of Gods that watched over us, keeping us safe. She would do it when we were in these backwoods, I assumed to keep me from complaining too much. She said that when it was time, a man with jet-black hair would take us where we need to go. Until that time comes, we would have nothing to fear. With him standing here though, I know she’s slightly off. When he’s come, there is nothing to fear.
“So, it must be my time,” I say, my voice quivering a little. Even knowing there’s nothing to be afraid of, the body is a machine, and a machine does not want to be stopped. He nods. “Well, you’re right. I can fix you a better plate than that. Come in and eat first.” He does, surprisingly. We sit down in these woods one last time, then he takes me where I’m meant to go. | |
[WP] Every time you cooked over a campfire, you would throw some food into the fire as an offering to the gods. One evening, just as you're about to perform your little campfire ritual, you hear a voice behind you say "You know, I would very much prefer my food un-burnt." | The sound of crackling leaves was subdued by the crackling of the campfire. Behind the sweet smell of smoke was the smell of grass and earth, carried by the cold, crisp autumn air. But the sky was warm, a mix of reds and oranges surrounding the sun and fading out in purples and pinks.
When I was little, my mother and father taught me days like these were a reward. A gift of peace, of beauty. Stoking the fire, sitting on sturdy log, I couldn't help agreeing. I stirred a pot of stew, eyes watching a piece of meat as it began to char. I quickly turned it, ensuring it would cook evenly.
In my pack, I took out two plates and three bowls. I'd made too much food again, but I hoped they wouldn't mind. I poured myself a third of the stew, and half of the meat. The rest were for the gods. As I took my offerings to the fire, a voice behind me sounded.
"You know, I would very much prefer my food un-burnt."
I chuckled, looking back at the source of the voice. A local diety, and family friend. Talia, the goddess of the Blue River.
"You could visit more if you wanted. My family hardly ever sees you. The last time we met up was the summer solstice festival." I poured half of the remaining stew into the third bowl, handing it off to the goddess.
"Some human hadn't been leaving offerings at the river, and Mother felt quite insulted. It took a while to convince to not flood their village."
The thought of insulting Mother ran a chill down my spine as much as it made my face hot.
"I'm glad you did, as much as I'd like to see that person's nice garments soaked." I said with a light laugh.
"Or their finest pottery cracked." Talia laughed. She pulled her dark hair back over her shoulders as she dug into her bowl of stew, and smiled with a please hum.
"It's been so long since I've had your stew. Your father has been teaching you well!"
Bringing my own spoonful to my lips, the taste was rich, meaty, juicy.
"Still not as good though."
Talia sighed and shook her head. "Just as your father, aren't you? He didn't believe the same until Mother said so. Your mother begged him to make it for Mother's festival. And what a blessing it was that I could be there too!"
"My mother did know your Mother best. I'm not surprised she was so confident." I look at the untouched half piece of meat on a plate.
"Would you like to take some just for Mother?" I asked, offering her the plate. She shook her head.
"More for the others then," I said. The meat was tossed into the fire, and with a prayer, it disappeared in the smoke. With that, Talia got up to take her leave.
"Will you be at the winter solstice festival this year?" I asked. Talia looked back at me and smiled, a teasing look in her cool blue eyes.
"If the river remains un-frozen, and my food, un-burnt."
A giggle burst out of me. "I'll see to that." | I've long forgotten how long ago the war happened. We thought we'd be wiped clean in nuclear fire. We definitely tried, I remember the radio talking about the impacts as they got the reports.
But I guess we came to our senses. Someone stopped pushing the button. I do remember the counts. Thirteen hit here in the States. Our neighbors to the north got half a dozen. They reported thirty across Russia. South America and Africa totalled up were twenty.
Then the new plague. Engineered, radioactive flu, didn't matter. I held my only child in my arms as she died, practically melting into a viscous black paste as the disease took her. I remember her mother slowly banging her head into the window as I cried.
The not so fortunate victims. We called them hollows. Sometimes the plague just ate away your insides and left a shambling husk wandering around. Mostly benign until they saw something alive.
We fled the cities. I keep saying we, like I don't remember their names. Maybe I don't want to. We were a team of analysts and communication specialists meant to keep the country running as Armageddon happened.
We failed, no one could have kept things from falling apart, but we tried.
Out in the wilds, after I buried my family, I saw the first shrine. A collection of sentimental knick knacks in a fountain, "He was here" scrawled across the concrete in what I hoped was red paint.
I found a radio that worked, and found a station. Emergency Broadcast didn't take long to fail, anything commercial had fallen off even faster. But on the shortwave, there was someone, something broadcasting; "Drive West, friends, He was here, He was there, and He waits for you in paradise."
It was something. I needed it to keep from going crazy. I don't even know what His name actually is. Some of the makeshift shrines made Him out as a man in a pullover hoodie, sometimes a robe, sometimes just a t-shirt and jeans with a pulled down ball cap over His eyes.
They never showed His face, and I never met anyone else in my travel. Just me and the radio, discovering more and more intricate depictions of Him.
I'm not much a man of faith, but I found hope in that thread of a constant while the world was dying around me. "Drive West, friends, He was here, He was there, He waits for you in paradise."
Walk during the day, find something to eat, sleep through the night, rinse and repeat.
I'd developed a bit of a ritual before sleeping. I'd cook what I found, and I'd toss a bit in the flames. "For those that were here," and the fire would crackle, "for those that are there," the fire danced, "and for Him," the fire would jump and celebrate.
The United States isn't, wasn't, a narrow country. I'd found a compass to help me keep straight, and always walked west. I did so, I've done so, for *years.*
I'm not sure if I'm in Hell, or things are just different now, but the broadcast never stops, and the only people I've ever met are corpses.
"Drive West, friends, He was here, He was there, He waits for you in paradise."
"For those that were here, for those that are there, and for Him."
"I hope you don't mind, but I'd rather not have to eat another burnt meal." A voice low and gravelly from the darkness outside the light.
I jump away from the fire, terror in my heart. "Who's there?"
"Just a man wandering around what has been, like yourself."
I realize the tone isn't malicious, and the terror abates. At least a small amount. *I thought I was alone.*
"You're not, friend," he says as he comes into the light, sitting cross legged before the fire. He's wearing a tattered denim jacket and a cowboy hat pulled down to hide his face.
I try to stutter out a response, and he waves a hand up. "I can't hear all your thoughts, but I heard that one. You're not alone out here, just a bit lost."
"How have I spent so long trying to get West, and I still have never seen the mountains?"
"Your heart is full of pain, and guilt. The world took your family, it's not your fault."
Tears well up in my eyes, "how do you know about "
Another raised hand, and that grandfather like tone, "I've been there, I'm here, and I'm waiting for you. You just have to forgive yourself."
I couldn't see for the tears clouding my vision, but somewhere in the flood of grief, the stranger had left. I'd have doubted he even existed, save for the coat pin where he'd sat. *Just gotta survive today* was written in black on a simple white square of ceramic.
Sleep wasn't easy, but when I awoke, I saw mountain tops on the horizon.
I'm sorry Anna, Candace, I couldn't save you. Mark, Wendy, Terrance, I hope you found peace.
I gotta survive today, he's been here, he's been there, he's waiting for me in paradise. | |
[WP] Every time you cooked over a campfire, you would throw some food into the fire as an offering to the gods. One evening, just as you're about to perform your little campfire ritual, you hear a voice behind you say "You know, I would very much prefer my food un-burnt." | It was silent, I liked silent, that's why I camped so much. I read somewhere that you should always offer a bit of food into your Campfire, it's an offer to the gods, I thought it was just a hox, but one night I found myself doing it, and I just went with it, I didn't mind, it was never much.
One night, my final night before I packed up in the morning, I broke off a piece of the bread and bacon that I had cooked. Getting up from my seat, walking to the slowly dying fire, about to toss a piece in, then a voice rang out
**"You know, I would very much enjoy un-burnt food offerings."**
Jumping out of my skin, stumbling back a bit, tripping over the rock barrier for the fire, nearly falling into the flames before a hand caught and pulled me away.
**"I'd also enjoy if one of the only people who actually did the offerings this way, didn't become one themself."**
The voice chuckled, backing away when I was steady enough. Now actually seeing the person, the figure? God? Yes, God, that's what he was.
He took a seat in the empty chair next to mine. One I left out for the visiting ghosts, spirits, demons, now apparently a God. He patted my seat, I walked over and sat down in it.
*"So, what god are you?"* I asked looking up at the God, he laughed, or maybe it was a chuckle? His voice was so loud, booming, so both could be used.
**"I am the God of all things related to fire! Lava, fire, stuff like that! That's why I've been the one who received majority of** ***your*** **offerings!"**
He laughed; I couldn't help but feel embarrassed, all the small food I've given for some reason actually landed into the God's hands, wishing I had at least offered at least a little bit more to him.
We spent the night talking, I told him why I camped often, he was amused to say the least. As the morning sun rose, I told him I needed to get packing, or at least sleep a bit before.
**"Pity! I was having fun."**
He groaned; I couldn't help but snicker.
*"Oh, I'll be out here again sooner or later. Not like it's going to be years."*
I rolled my eyes, an idea dawned on him.
**"Maybe I don't leave! I've listened and watched you when I get your offerings, want a cat?"**
He asked, smirking, I was now, scared and nervous.
**"I am a GOD! If I want to turn into a cat, so be it!"**
He laughed, and like a blur, he was a cat, a Ragdoll from what I could tell. He hopped up onto my leg, climbing up before I picked him up, a little embarrassed.
We got home about midday and setting him on the ground, he began to roam around my house as I went to put everything away, when I came back, he was sitting on the counter.
*"Off the counter, come on."*
I sighed, he smirked, not moving, swishing his tail back and forth. Grabbing something in the cabinet, filling it with water, turning around and facing the fire god, his face dropping, he jumped and ran, I fallowed laughing, spraying him with water before he disappeared. Literally into thin air. Standing there confused, looking around, suddenly picked up by the fire god himself, in human version. Both of you laughing, water dripping from his hair.
Years passed, you kept the offering up, and the fire god grew stronger, who's name you learned was Adara, became friends, growing stronger and tighter. But you grew ill, your lunges became weak, and you couldn't travel as you once did. Adara was concerned, now alive through the bonfires in your yard, but he returned to the heavens, he didn't have enough strength to stay, he watched you, he called to you, trying so hard to get to you when you collapsed, when you were hospitalized. The other gods and goddesses grew confused on why Adara was acting like so to a mortal, but yet, they never felt what he did, cared for and treated so human like, it made his heart swell.
He was there for you, he greeted you at the gates of heaven, you cried, both of you. He was with you again, his friend a mortal friend. He never let go for so long, until the passed of your own loved ones found and greeted you themselves. You where safe now, at least you wouldn't burn Adara's food again. | I've long forgotten how long ago the war happened. We thought we'd be wiped clean in nuclear fire. We definitely tried, I remember the radio talking about the impacts as they got the reports.
But I guess we came to our senses. Someone stopped pushing the button. I do remember the counts. Thirteen hit here in the States. Our neighbors to the north got half a dozen. They reported thirty across Russia. South America and Africa totalled up were twenty.
Then the new plague. Engineered, radioactive flu, didn't matter. I held my only child in my arms as she died, practically melting into a viscous black paste as the disease took her. I remember her mother slowly banging her head into the window as I cried.
The not so fortunate victims. We called them hollows. Sometimes the plague just ate away your insides and left a shambling husk wandering around. Mostly benign until they saw something alive.
We fled the cities. I keep saying we, like I don't remember their names. Maybe I don't want to. We were a team of analysts and communication specialists meant to keep the country running as Armageddon happened.
We failed, no one could have kept things from falling apart, but we tried.
Out in the wilds, after I buried my family, I saw the first shrine. A collection of sentimental knick knacks in a fountain, "He was here" scrawled across the concrete in what I hoped was red paint.
I found a radio that worked, and found a station. Emergency Broadcast didn't take long to fail, anything commercial had fallen off even faster. But on the shortwave, there was someone, something broadcasting; "Drive West, friends, He was here, He was there, and He waits for you in paradise."
It was something. I needed it to keep from going crazy. I don't even know what His name actually is. Some of the makeshift shrines made Him out as a man in a pullover hoodie, sometimes a robe, sometimes just a t-shirt and jeans with a pulled down ball cap over His eyes.
They never showed His face, and I never met anyone else in my travel. Just me and the radio, discovering more and more intricate depictions of Him.
I'm not much a man of faith, but I found hope in that thread of a constant while the world was dying around me. "Drive West, friends, He was here, He was there, He waits for you in paradise."
Walk during the day, find something to eat, sleep through the night, rinse and repeat.
I'd developed a bit of a ritual before sleeping. I'd cook what I found, and I'd toss a bit in the flames. "For those that were here," and the fire would crackle, "for those that are there," the fire danced, "and for Him," the fire would jump and celebrate.
The United States isn't, wasn't, a narrow country. I'd found a compass to help me keep straight, and always walked west. I did so, I've done so, for *years.*
I'm not sure if I'm in Hell, or things are just different now, but the broadcast never stops, and the only people I've ever met are corpses.
"Drive West, friends, He was here, He was there, He waits for you in paradise."
"For those that were here, for those that are there, and for Him."
"I hope you don't mind, but I'd rather not have to eat another burnt meal." A voice low and gravelly from the darkness outside the light.
I jump away from the fire, terror in my heart. "Who's there?"
"Just a man wandering around what has been, like yourself."
I realize the tone isn't malicious, and the terror abates. At least a small amount. *I thought I was alone.*
"You're not, friend," he says as he comes into the light, sitting cross legged before the fire. He's wearing a tattered denim jacket and a cowboy hat pulled down to hide his face.
I try to stutter out a response, and he waves a hand up. "I can't hear all your thoughts, but I heard that one. You're not alone out here, just a bit lost."
"How have I spent so long trying to get West, and I still have never seen the mountains?"
"Your heart is full of pain, and guilt. The world took your family, it's not your fault."
Tears well up in my eyes, "how do you know about "
Another raised hand, and that grandfather like tone, "I've been there, I'm here, and I'm waiting for you. You just have to forgive yourself."
I couldn't see for the tears clouding my vision, but somewhere in the flood of grief, the stranger had left. I'd have doubted he even existed, save for the coat pin where he'd sat. *Just gotta survive today* was written in black on a simple white square of ceramic.
Sleep wasn't easy, but when I awoke, I saw mountain tops on the horizon.
I'm sorry Anna, Candace, I couldn't save you. Mark, Wendy, Terrance, I hope you found peace.
I gotta survive today, he's been here, he's been there, he's waiting for me in paradise. | |
[WP] Every time you cooked over a campfire, you would throw some food into the fire as an offering to the gods. One evening, just as you're about to perform your little campfire ritual, you hear a voice behind you say "You know, I would very much prefer my food un-burnt." | Jalla tossed another chunk of meat onto the fire and sat back on her overturned log with a huff. She was never a fan of camping, but sometimes magic couldn't take you where you wanted to go. At times like this, you had to rely on yourself. She gnawed on her own piece of jerky as a shadowy figure manifested beside her and stared quizzically down at the fire, before addressing her with an accusatory tone.
"Why?" Jalla gave a small chuckle, and looked up at Ofnir as their proper form finished materializing. They sat down on the log next to her, wearing an expression of sorrow that was definitely not befitting of the being that she had bound into her service.
"It's a tradition in my homeland. We burn an offering of food for the gods when we take from the world's bounty." Ofnir scoffed and turned away from Jalla.
"Well *I* prefer my food unburnt, thank you very much. Plus, that's wasteful." Jalla gave a small tsk and tore off a chunk of her jerky, prodding the young god with it in her palm. They finally faced her again, picking it up and biting into it.
"It's not wasteful, it's respectful. You got it from nature, it's only fair to give a little back." Ofnir nodded thoughtfully, and to Jalla's surprise they tore off a small piece of their jerky and cast it into the fire. Noticing Jalla's gaze, Ofnir shrugged.
"Just being respectful. One god to another." | I've long forgotten how long ago the war happened. We thought we'd be wiped clean in nuclear fire. We definitely tried, I remember the radio talking about the impacts as they got the reports.
But I guess we came to our senses. Someone stopped pushing the button. I do remember the counts. Thirteen hit here in the States. Our neighbors to the north got half a dozen. They reported thirty across Russia. South America and Africa totalled up were twenty.
Then the new plague. Engineered, radioactive flu, didn't matter. I held my only child in my arms as she died, practically melting into a viscous black paste as the disease took her. I remember her mother slowly banging her head into the window as I cried.
The not so fortunate victims. We called them hollows. Sometimes the plague just ate away your insides and left a shambling husk wandering around. Mostly benign until they saw something alive.
We fled the cities. I keep saying we, like I don't remember their names. Maybe I don't want to. We were a team of analysts and communication specialists meant to keep the country running as Armageddon happened.
We failed, no one could have kept things from falling apart, but we tried.
Out in the wilds, after I buried my family, I saw the first shrine. A collection of sentimental knick knacks in a fountain, "He was here" scrawled across the concrete in what I hoped was red paint.
I found a radio that worked, and found a station. Emergency Broadcast didn't take long to fail, anything commercial had fallen off even faster. But on the shortwave, there was someone, something broadcasting; "Drive West, friends, He was here, He was there, and He waits for you in paradise."
It was something. I needed it to keep from going crazy. I don't even know what His name actually is. Some of the makeshift shrines made Him out as a man in a pullover hoodie, sometimes a robe, sometimes just a t-shirt and jeans with a pulled down ball cap over His eyes.
They never showed His face, and I never met anyone else in my travel. Just me and the radio, discovering more and more intricate depictions of Him.
I'm not much a man of faith, but I found hope in that thread of a constant while the world was dying around me. "Drive West, friends, He was here, He was there, He waits for you in paradise."
Walk during the day, find something to eat, sleep through the night, rinse and repeat.
I'd developed a bit of a ritual before sleeping. I'd cook what I found, and I'd toss a bit in the flames. "For those that were here," and the fire would crackle, "for those that are there," the fire danced, "and for Him," the fire would jump and celebrate.
The United States isn't, wasn't, a narrow country. I'd found a compass to help me keep straight, and always walked west. I did so, I've done so, for *years.*
I'm not sure if I'm in Hell, or things are just different now, but the broadcast never stops, and the only people I've ever met are corpses.
"Drive West, friends, He was here, He was there, He waits for you in paradise."
"For those that were here, for those that are there, and for Him."
"I hope you don't mind, but I'd rather not have to eat another burnt meal." A voice low and gravelly from the darkness outside the light.
I jump away from the fire, terror in my heart. "Who's there?"
"Just a man wandering around what has been, like yourself."
I realize the tone isn't malicious, and the terror abates. At least a small amount. *I thought I was alone.*
"You're not, friend," he says as he comes into the light, sitting cross legged before the fire. He's wearing a tattered denim jacket and a cowboy hat pulled down to hide his face.
I try to stutter out a response, and he waves a hand up. "I can't hear all your thoughts, but I heard that one. You're not alone out here, just a bit lost."
"How have I spent so long trying to get West, and I still have never seen the mountains?"
"Your heart is full of pain, and guilt. The world took your family, it's not your fault."
Tears well up in my eyes, "how do you know about "
Another raised hand, and that grandfather like tone, "I've been there, I'm here, and I'm waiting for you. You just have to forgive yourself."
I couldn't see for the tears clouding my vision, but somewhere in the flood of grief, the stranger had left. I'd have doubted he even existed, save for the coat pin where he'd sat. *Just gotta survive today* was written in black on a simple white square of ceramic.
Sleep wasn't easy, but when I awoke, I saw mountain tops on the horizon.
I'm sorry Anna, Candace, I couldn't save you. Mark, Wendy, Terrance, I hope you found peace.
I gotta survive today, he's been here, he's been there, he's waiting for me in paradise. | |
[WP] Every time you cooked over a campfire, you would throw some food into the fire as an offering to the gods. One evening, just as you're about to perform your little campfire ritual, you hear a voice behind you say "You know, I would very much prefer my food un-burnt." | A man sat in the woods, face and chest enveloped by the orange glow of the flame before him, all other sides of him in darkness. Crickets roared and owls crooned from tall trees, creating a soothing environment for the man as he unzipped his maroon-soaked knapsack and pulled out a slab of raw deer meat.
Fresh. The man had just killed it himself. The iron scent induced a comforted sigh from him as he tossed the meat into the fire, listened to its cackle and went to his knees for prayer.
"May the gods bless me with go- better fortune. Despite all the misfortune which has befallen me, I still believe. May your spirit fill the void felt by my fami-" He stopped and turned.
"I would very much prefer my food unburnt. Did you know that Isley?" A voice said. A deep voice at that, its bass resonated through Isley's molars.
Isley knew something was off before the words even greeted him. Mid-prayer, the wood behind him had started to emit a pale blue glow so intense it painted the flame in front of him a lilac color.
He couldn't have known the sight waiting behind him, the presence of a semi-transparent pre-pubescent boy fitted in an oversized t-shirt and sneakers. His attire and stature suggested youth and innocence, yet his eyes and slight tilt of the head hinted at maturity.
"Isley?" He paused. "How do you know my name is Isley?"
"I would hope one of my devout believers wouldn't be foolish or a simpleton. Take it all in. Think about it, and the answer will come to you." The boy said. With a snap of his finger, the rosy flame behind Isley dismissed itself. He extended his hand with a smile and said. "Offerings are much better when they're personally delivered anyway."
Isley froze and considered running away. Thought better of it and reached for the deer meat sitting atop the ashes, much to the boy's dismay. "No, you fool!" Too late. Isley grabbed the deer flesh and understood the warning immediately.
A scorching pain shot through his arm as the child berated him.
"I can't believe you did that! It was a joke. I didn't believe you would grab meat straight from a fire! Are you stupid? Does that brain come with a warranty?" On and on he went.
Tears stained Isley's cheeks as he listened, and a smile crept on his face. "I'm s-so glad. My wife strongly believed in you, and you sound just like her. So I guess there truly is a bit of the gods in each of us."
Yet his smile lived shorter than his tears, dying young like all good things. He doubled over as images of his family haunted his memory. His deceased family. His extinguished family, whose deaths he accidentally caused. He wept.
Eyes narrow, the boy approached his trembling body, squatted, and placed a hand under Isley's left shoulder blade.
Panic shot through Isley's spine upon the cold touch. He felt violated, as if the touch had probed his very essence. Probed and seized all his secrets. Secrets he didn't know he had and strewn them around the public forum of his mind.
Would the god know?
Would it know that his own foolishness killed his family? He never mentioned that part in his prayers.
Would it know he wished he had been the one to die every day, not them? Despite his best attempts to seem grateful?
Would it know... would it know he secretly cursed the gods themselves? Spiteful at their very existence?
In truth, praying had long been a tradition for him. A habit he carried out mindlessly with little belief. His wife is the believer in the family, or rather she was. But, unlike him, she'd always been strong, reliable, and intelligent. So why was she the one to die from his mistake?
Though he didn't believe, the prayers were his only repentance.
The young boy removed his hand and flopped next to him on the Earth. His eyes searched Isley's as if double-checking a room stripped bare. Finally, he spoke.
"I would like to hear your prayer more intimately this time. Please share it with me." | [Wip] Usually when I prepare my food I make extra for whatever God or upper being wants my food. As I had finished making my food I threw the extras into the fire and started to eat my own portion, "You know, I would very much prefer my food un-burnt." I wiped my head around looking for whoever was talking, not seeing anyone so I called out. "Hello who said that?" I grabbed my dagger and was prepared to fight but then the voice called out agian, "what you think you can kill me with that gods can't die from the power of humans, though they've tried." I wiped my head around to see a tall being with pale blue skin black eyes with white eyes and black horns. I stood there frozen, "S-So your the one that's been taking my offerings?!?" The God gave a cocktail smile as he said "Well yes its free food and it's good apart from the fact that it's burnt which all you needed to do was put the food out on a tree stump or something." The put the dagger down, "Oh well sorry I didn't think it would get to you burn | |
[WP] Every time you cooked over a campfire, you would throw some food into the fire as an offering to the gods. One evening, just as you're about to perform your little campfire ritual, you hear a voice behind you say "You know, I would very much prefer my food un-burnt." | Edit: This is literally my first time to write for fun, so constructive criticism is appreciated!
Another normal night was in the works. Cooking over the campfire has been my nightly ritual since I started squatting in these woods three months ago. The people in the nearest village warned me not to come here; they say it's home to a trickster spirit, but I've never been superstitious so I paid their warnings no mind. I still can't decide if that was a good idea or not.
I stirred my chopped veggies as they sizzled in the cast iron skillet. Food is never scarce in a forest when you know what to look for. The smell of my impending meal reached my nostrils: sunchokes, wild onions, and fennel. I plucked the skillet from the fire and very tenderly scraped a bit out onto the glowing coals for whoever shares this forest with me, as has been my habit since the first week here. It seemed to calm the smoke, and more importantly, it usually made me feel less alone. It was then that I heard something that I hadn't heard in weeks: a voice.
"You know, I would very much prefer my food unburnt," it said from somewhere behind me, in an accent that belonged in a Shakspearian parody. Startled, I slung the food from my skillet and prepared to hit whoever approached.
"Well you didn't have to throw it on the ground,” muttered my uninvited guest, scrambling from the shadows to pick up my dinner and shovel it into his oddly gaping mouth. Though it had a human form, its skin was the color of ash and its eyes looked like glowing coals. As I moved forward, armed with a skillet, its scalp ignited into flowing hair made of flames. It cowered back as I screamed, its hair extinguishing with a sizzle.
“Who are you? WHAT are you?!” I bellowed into the empty night, certain that this one would be my last.
“I am the Fritz, and I’ve decided I like you. Put down the weapon, lest I decide I do not”.
Stepping backwards, I lowered the skillet. The Fritz continued eating, ignoring my presence and my frantically muttered questions. When it finished, it turned to me, its eyes no longer glowing but instead black as virgin coal. “I am the Fritz. I am the Fire and the Forests burnt long before this one sprouted. I have always been, and I always will be. And while I appreciate your offerings, I prefer my vegetables raw as they cook from my touch”.
This was no hallucination. As The Fritz approached, I could feel heat radiating from its body from yards away despite its small stature. It reached directly into my fire and grabbed a small, glowing chunk of log. Finally processing the creature’s request, I quickly ran to my modest, hand dug root cellar for some fresh sunchokes. When I returned, all that remained of it was a series of small, charred footprints in the grass and a large, raw, glowing diamond carefully placed in my skillet. | [Wip] Usually when I prepare my food I make extra for whatever God or upper being wants my food. As I had finished making my food I threw the extras into the fire and started to eat my own portion, "You know, I would very much prefer my food un-burnt." I wiped my head around looking for whoever was talking, not seeing anyone so I called out. "Hello who said that?" I grabbed my dagger and was prepared to fight but then the voice called out agian, "what you think you can kill me with that gods can't die from the power of humans, though they've tried." I wiped my head around to see a tall being with pale blue skin black eyes with white eyes and black horns. I stood there frozen, "S-So your the one that's been taking my offerings?!?" The God gave a cocktail smile as he said "Well yes its free food and it's good apart from the fact that it's burnt which all you needed to do was put the food out on a tree stump or something." The put the dagger down, "Oh well sorry I didn't think it would get to you burn | |
[WP] Every time you cooked over a campfire, you would throw some food into the fire as an offering to the gods. One evening, just as you're about to perform your little campfire ritual, you hear a voice behind you say "You know, I would very much prefer my food un-burnt." | "May you accept this humble offering, oh gods, and watch over me on my travels," I said quietly as I a piece of meat into the fire and bit into the rest.
"You know," a gravely voice suddenly rang out behind me, "I prefer my meat *un*\-burnt."
I darted upwards and turned to see whoever spoke; it was rare for anyone to sneak up on me. A lifetime on the road taught me better. Stranger still, the man before me was old and frail. I was surprised he approached me without snapping a bone, let alone any branches to make a sound.
"Oh, please, please, don't get up," he smiled and walked closer to the fire as if my hand wasn't on the hilt of my sword. "Really. Sit. You're making me feel rude," he chuckled and, with a loud grunt, sat down.
I could see him better now that he was by the fire. He looked well over 70, his face wrinkled and tired, and only wore dusty old rags. A beggar, likely.
"Who are you?" I asked as I sat back down.
"Just a traveller," he said casually. Then, without a sound, he leaned forward and reached into the fire. His hand remained in it for several seconds before he pulled it out holding the piece of meat I threw in. The offering. He put it in his mouth and chewed - I could see that neither his hand nor his rags bore any burn marks.
"You're..." I gasped.
"Yep."
I stood up again, only to fall to my knees.
"Please forgive me, o' Hermes, for I did-"
"Oh please, sit down!" he growled. "Can't stand all this grovelling. You've been on your feet all day, take it easy, will you?"
Slowly, carefully, I resumed my position by the fire but kept staring at him with wide eyes, unsure of what to do next.
"Eat," he commanded. I carefully bit into the meat.
"You're wondering why I'm here, sitting with you, aren't you, Lavrentios?"
I nodded. I couldn't force myself to speak, too afraid of saying something wrong.
He smiled. "Sorry to disappoint, but there is no grand reveal. I'm not about to send you on a mighty quest filled with peril. I just wanted some company. But, if I am not mistaken," he said and his eyes briefly lit up with a golden light, "you are relieved to hear that."
"...yes. Yes, I am."
"I respect that. A man that likes his place in the world. Rare nowadays, I'll say."
He reached deep into his robe and produced a waterskin that he took a long sip out of before offering it to me. I carefully accepted and took a swig - it was wine. The best wine I had ever tasted in my mortal life. I swiftly took another gulp before handing it back.
"Thank you," I said quietly.
"I like you, Lavrentios," he suddenly opened. "You're humble. Pious, but not zealous. A capable messenger," he said and nodded towards the bag sitting beside me. "Are you happy with your lot in life?"
"Of course, o' Hermes!" I spurted out quickly.
His eyes glowed gold again.
"Certainly not *that* happy, but I understand you're nervous talking to me."
He took a deep breath, taking in the fresh night air.
"But," he said, "about your offerings."
Cold sweat ran down my forehead. He reached into his robes again, pulling out... a silver coin. He placed it on a nearby stump and as he did, the moonlight hit it at just the right angle to shine straight into my eyes, forcing me to wince. When I opened them again, the man was nowhere to be seen, though I could hear his voice echo all around me.
*"Place them* ***beside*** *the fire next time, would you?"* | Full moons and wide open plains have always had a certain serenity to which the city could never compare. Out here, in the dark and cold, Ember felt lighter than a feather. The horses added to that as they pushed her around but that was their job and hers was to guide them and the carriage south.
Winter’s edge had started to be felt far up on the slopes of the mountains and they needed a couple of supplies before snow made the path difficult to travel. Her parents and a cousin were all in the back as the last of the sunlight had faded. They argued. Ember tried her best not to pay them any mind.
It was late, night had come early as deep clouds threatened yet only stood menacingly on the hillside till they parted as the wind changed. Luna crept over the horizon as Ember settled for the night and started her fire. Small kindling and a couple of dry logs that she had found crackled softly as she pulled out her small pot. Salted meat and a couple of vegetables flavoured a skin of water as they were all brought to a simmer. Holding a piece of pork back from the water, Ember smiled into the fire and held a small piece of meat to it.
“Esseem, protector and guardian, please watch over us as you always have,” Ember whispered as her family tried to set up the small tent they had brought with them. Her Ma wouldn’t approve, she didn’t believe in the family’s ancient guardian nor thought it was wise to invoke a deity that hadn’t brought them any fortune in living memory. From the moment her great-grandfather had spoken to her of the old legends, Ember had felt a kinship to the ancient spirit and their stories. Taking a deep breath, Ember sniffed the pork and then whispered, “I wish there was more I could give you.”
"You know, I would very much prefer my food un-burnt," a whisper returned to her before she was able to place the meat in the fire.
Ember flinched away and dropped the dried morsel next to the fire. A small cat, darker than the night around her bounced out of the bushes and pounced on the meal Ember had left for them. Biting down, it gave out a bit of a warble in frustration as the hardened salted pork pocked at its mouth. Ember watched.
“You humans make your food so tough,” a whisper came from the creature as they hissed at the food and then glanced up at the pot of now boiling water, “Is that any easier to eat?”
“Yes?” Ember whispered back, glancing at the pot and then at her family by the carriage. Was this real? Taking a cube out of the pot she flung it toward the dark-furred cat and watched it eat. Seemingly satisfied, the cat licked its paws and gave out a quiet meow. Ember hesitated for a moment but had to ask, “What are you?”
“You’re guardian,” the cat whispered before declaring, “I am the lord Esseem.”
“You're a cat,” Ember argued back.
“Very observant human,” Esseem acknowledge, “You will make a brilliant new high priestess.”
“What? No, hang on,” Ember tried to argue but the cat ignore her and went to the pot. Before the thing was able to look into it, Ember grabbed it and pulled it away, whispering, “No, that’s not yours.”
“Human!” the cat called out as it struggled, “Unhand me! This form needs substances.”
“I’m going nuts,” Ember whispered to herself as she dragged the cat away.
“You are not,” the cat argued, “I, your faithful protector, have… umm… protected you.”
“From what?” Ember argued back, “Mice?”
“Among other things,” the cat explained as it twisted and tried to get out of Ember’s grasp. Barn cats weren’t all that hard to move once you learned how to get the claws facing away from you and Ember had more than a little experience at this point. Never had a talking one though. That was new. The cat stopped struggling for a second and looked around, “Where are you taking me?”
“Away from our food,” Ember scoffed as she carried the cat passed the light of the campfire and put it down facing away.
“How rude,” the cat whispered, “You offer me food and then pull me away from it?”
“I didn’t,” Ember argued, “I offered you one small piece, not the entire pot.”
“Ember!” Ember heard her father call out and glanced at the carriage, “What’s wrong?”
“There’s this weird cat,” Ember yelled back and looked down to now bare land. A scuffle behind her and she saw the black cat was almost back at the pot. “Hey! No, you stupid… Don’t you dare.”
The cat only had its paw in the pot for a second but was able to scoop up a large piece of meat for itself and bolt away. Her father saw the thing as well and ran toward the fire but it was long gone before either of them got to it.
“Till your next offering!” a small, wispy voice carried on the wind behind the cat.
Ember could only watch the thing go as her father gave her a confused frown.
—
If you want to read more of my work, you can find it over at r/asolitarycandle. Not sure what to read, [check out my favorites](https://www.reddit.com/r/asolitarycandle/comments/m7p8p4/table_of_contents/). | |
[WP] Every time you cooked over a campfire, you would throw some food into the fire as an offering to the gods. One evening, just as you're about to perform your little campfire ritual, you hear a voice behind you say "You know, I would very much prefer my food un-burnt." | There’s not enough sunlight for the trees to grow as they once did. They’re short, stubby things now. They’re like children deficient of vitamins, their spines curved, life-expectancy reduced.
All the same, trees do grow again in this corpse of a city. They broke through the ancient concrete like fists battering layers of sheet-ice until it cracked.
I sit on a patch of weeds in front of a crackling fire. The day — or night — is grey and shadowed. The clouds are swirls of black and purple that won’t settle in my lifetime. I feel like I am in a box, or a coffin perhaps, and the lid has been shut on me.
I throw more wood onto the fire then cook a skewered rat over the blaze. The fire leaps excitedly at the food.
The city teems with rats and trees and fruit that rots before it ripens. It is life after death for the city, like poppies growing on a battlefield. But it will never be what it was. There was a time I’d spend my days searching the city, hoping to find something but not knowing what that something was. Now, I barely move. Only to catch food and to cook.
I throw a piece of well-browned meat onto the fire. Then I lean back and try to read my book in the firelight hoping it distracts me from the pain. There is no cover to the book and I can’t be sure of the author, but I think it’s a classic. A slice of American life when the American dream was whole but rippled — like a stick had poked a watery reflection, but the reflection was still just about visible.
“It’s kind of you,” says a voice. “But I’d appreciate my meat less well done.”
It’s the first voice I’ve heard in a decade.
I hold my trembling arms together at my chest as a woman approaches my fire. Sits calmly opposite me.
“Are you… are you real?” I ask, in a raw unpracticed voice.
It wouldn’t be my first hallucination.
Her features are silhouetted, the darting flames only lighting up to her neck.
“It’s impressive,” she says.
I shake my head. I’m at a loss. “What is?”
”That your faith is still with you after so long. After everything.”
“Who are you?”
”The person at the other end of the phone.” She smiles — I see her white teeth even in the semi-darkness. “I’ve been listening to your calls. Every night for almost forty years. You believe you’re the last, don’t you?”
”The last?”
”The last person.”
”Oh.” It’s a thought I’ve suffered many times — it’s the lid that closed my coffin. I haven’t seen anyone since leaving the sewer. Not a soul. And if I was the last, if I allowed myself to believe it, then what would be the point? Humanity would have already ended and I would be a scene playing after the credits. Why would I keep wandering if there was no hope, or future — if there’s nothing more than this?
”They’re doing well,” she says. “I’m looking after them.”
“Them?”
”Your prayer.”
I try to laugh. “Prayer? I don’t pray. It’s clear there’s no god or the world wouldn’t look like this. I wouldn’t be like this.“ I tap the stump of my right foot with my walking stick. A slight cut turned infectious turned self-amputation. Since then, my search for others has stopped. Now I wait in this city, hoping someone finds me instead.
“You pray for them not yourself,” she says. “That they’re happy. That they’re taken care of. Your parents. Your wife. Your children. You pray for this each time you eat. Are you really that torn that you can’t remember your prayer?”
”I don’t believe in god.”
She smiles again. “And yet you pray. Subconsciously, perhaps. Every single meal. Because deep down, below all the pain and hate, you do believe. You need to.“
”You’re not real,” I say. I‘ve known it since she sat down but now I’m firm in my belief.
“You pray for you dog, too. You hope animals end up in heaven. You hope you’ll see them all again.”
Tears cut trails through the dirt on my face.
“You’re not real,” I say, softer.
She stands now. Walks around the fire until she is sitting by my side.
”You hung on so long,” she says.
”I…”
”You hang on still.”
”…Why? Why do I?”
”Because to be human is to hope.”
She touches my leg. Moves a hand slowly down my calf to my stump.
“Your amputation wasn’t enough. Your blood is still poisoned.”
I don’t look down at it; instead I look at the velvet coffin-box sky. I’d hoped to live but I’m not going to.
“You’re here to take me, then?” I say. “You’re something people see in their own mind, to come to terms with their death.”
She tilts her head. “I’m here to thank you. For never giving up on me or yourself or on those you loved. On your faith. And I promise I’ll look after them for you.”
She presses her hand hard against my calf and I feel my body pulse, as if my blood is being drawn to her palm.
“What is…”
”Shhh,” she says. “Rest now. Tomorrow is a new day. You’re not the last. Keep your hope alive.”
I want to struggle, fight, I want to ask a hundred questions, but a tiredness floods my veins and I fall slowly back on the bed of weeds.
​
When I wake, she is gone. I am well rested. I feel like I have slept long and deep.
I look up at the sky. There seems to be a glimmer of light on the horizon, as if the coffin’s lid has been opened just a crack.
I imagine the trees growing a little taller next year.
After breakfast, I begin my search about the city. Perhaps today I will find something. | I plucked the marshmallow from the bag and gave it several firm squeezes, as I felt its springy texture roll between my thumb and fingers. Satisfied with the moment of sensory bliss, I attached it to the end of my poker and extended it over the coals.
The fire was at the perfect temperature. I was always fussy about how the coals were spread before roasting. It could be an arduous process, for sure. But it was essential to making the perfect s’more.
Tens of meticulous rotations later, the marshmallow bore a crunchy gold crust, just how I like it. After slapping it on my chocolate and securing it between two graham crackers, I moved to throw away the empty bag. To my surprise, I discovered a lone marshmallow firmly lodged in the corner.
A deft flick later, it soared landing in the bed of coals, releasing a few sparks.
“For the Gods,” I muttered sarcastically.
“You know,” a soft feminine voice rang out. “I much prefer my offerings, unburnt.”
I yelped in shock as my chair tipped over backward, leaving me sprawled face up in the dirt. Thankfully, I was able to lift my arm and keep my s’more safe and dirt free. A woman strolled into the dying firelight as I scrambled to my feet.
She bore a wry smile, but not unkind eyes as she motioned for me to hand her the poker that lay by my side. An awkward handoff later, she began to agitate the coals sending up a shower of sparks to the heavens.
The woman wore a stunning white dress that clung to her figure; it seemed to illuminate the dreary night. As the fire roared to life, she tucked her long, jet-black hair behind her ears and gave a satisfied nod.
“Ahh, much better.” She gave me a divine smile and extended the poker back to me.
As I grabbed the poker I cleared my throat, “Erm, I’m sorry. Do I know you?”
“Ah I forgot!” the woman giggled. “Introductions and all that. Very well then, I am the Goddess Hestia.” She gave a mock bow.
“G-Goddess?” I spluttered as she nodded as if she was encouraging me. “N-nice to meet you.” I finally spit out.
Hestia walked closer to me and extended her pale hands, palm up. Confused, I shifted my eyes between her hand and eyes. Several pointed looks from her later, I realized she wanted my s’more, to which I reluctantly forfeited.
A satisfied smile later, Goddess Hestia sat firmly in my chair and crunched away in bliss.
I wasn’t sure if I should break her happy munching, but curiosity won out in the end.
“Uh, Goddess? Can I ask what you are doing here?”
Hestia plopped the last bite of the s’more in her mouth and closed her eyes as if she was savoring it.
A few licks of her fingers later, “Well, I get first offering of course!”
I was perplexed. “Erm, first offering?”
She nodded and continued, “Yep! Any time one of you mortals performs an offering I get first dibs!” She tossed her hair over her shoulder. “Perks of being the Goddess of the Hearth and all that.”
She stood up from my chair and dusted off the few specks of graham cracker sprinkled on her dress, several steps later she stood in front of me.
“Oh, and while I’m here. We need to talk.” She accentuated each word with a firm poke in my chest.
I felt the air change as if all the light in the world vanished. The beautiful Goddess transformed in front of me into something out of my worst nightmares. Her dark hair began to float, and her eyes narrowed in what could only be described as malice.
When she spoke again, her voice boomed and I felt the reverberation in my chest. “Stop burning my food!”
Several furious meek nods later from me later, she reverted to the beautiful kind woman and flashed me another divine smile. “Sound good?”
“Y-yes Goddess.” I all but whimpered.
One last smile and she strode away from the firelight, before turning to look over her shoulder quickly like she forgot something.
“Oh! By the way, that s’more was really good, what did you do to it?”
“Oh, um, well you put a dash of cinnamon and nutmeg on it before you squish it together.”
“Nutmeg huh? Hmm,” she hummed and stroked her chin. “I’ll have to try that.”
With that, she vanished into the night. Several furious blinks later, a pop of the logs and a shower of sparks brought me back to my senses. S’moreless. | |
[WP] You're an orc tired of raiding humans to steal their delicious food, so you decide to become the first orc chef! | Me Ugg, two g's. No forget. You tired of going after them hoommies and being stabbed at just for a bit of a snack? Well, what if Ugg tell yous there's better ways?
Me intru..untro... Me shows yous how you toos can be hecking good at this food thing!
Me was once like yous, getting hungry, not had good meal in ages. But after me stops raidin' hoomies and watchin' 'em instead, me learn dem secrets!
Dat's right boys! You could be havin' yous own yums, and no more losing yer best limbs! Me teach how to burn your steak just right, and hows to turn that moss between your toes into tasty stew!
All for da low price of 29 gold and 99 silver a moon. Wow! Me can't believe you be learning to eat good at such affordable price! | I started experimenting in my cave, mixing different ingredients together to create something new. At first, I was just throwing ingredients together, but soon I was able to create dishes that tasted almost as good as the humans. I was even able to teach some of the other orcs how to cook.
However, my success came with a price. The other orcs started to resent me, wishing that I would go back to raiding, or even worse, that I would leave the group altogether. One night, as I was cooking, I heard a ruckus outside my cave. A group of orcs had come to kill me for my betrayal.
I quickly grabbed my knife and hid, scared for my life. I heard them searching for me, but I was able to remain hidden until they eventually gave up and went away. When I finally emerged from my hiding spot, I was horrified to discover that they had stolen all of my ingredients and left me with nothing.
The other orcs had taken away my only hope of creating delicious food. I was left with nothing but a bitter taste in my mouth. I was no longer an orc chef, only an orc who had failed. | |
[WP] “Destroy my enemies! And my life is yours.” | An awkward moment passes. And then another. And another.
I am one of the finest assassins of my order. I have been trained to see with my ears and hear with my feet. We are, all of us, death incarnate. I can hear the tightening of a bowstring or the unsheathing of a sword at enough distance that hitting me with either will be a statistical improbability.
I can climb up a tree or a chimney backwards. My toes are just short fingers. I can use them to throw knives. I have learned from the greatest living minds of my order, who have learned from the greatest minds in their time, going back into the mists of time. I can slow down my heart on a whim, and remain underwater for minutes at a time. I am trained to work in a perfect state of flow, where there is no thought but only action and intent.
And now, for all my training, I am dumbfounded and speechless. But I find myself.
"We're normally paid in gold, you know." | The spirit Vengeance is not idle. While the mortal it's bound to sleeps, when Johnny dreams, Vengeance slips away unnoticed.
It searches, seeks the wronged among us. It homes in on that sense of injustice, that helpless rage. It stokes the fires of indignity until they are white-hot, whispering, urging. Offering.
*You shouldn't put up with this shit,* it encourages. *She's your wife.*
A timid man--afraid of judgment, afraid of *causing a scene*--stands in the aisle of the supermarket. He knows his wife has been sleeping with another man. Behind closed doors, they've argued. He isn't brave enough to leave her.
They've just run into this man--handsome, confident, successful--at the grocery store. The timid man's wife flirts brazenly. She steps close to her lover, ignoring her husband, ignoring the handsome man's pretty daughters who laugh at her timid, pathetic loser of a husband from behind their phones.
*They've hurt you,* Vengeance whispers. *They deserve to hurt, too.*
The timid man shivers, fists clenching. He struggles to resist the urge to lash out. Lashing out is wrong, he thinks. It's vengeance, and vengeance is wrong. He wants to believe he's better than that.
His wife laughs, sweetly, touching her lover's arm. She has *never* laughed like that for her husband, he realizes. The timid man clears his throat, trying to remind her that her actions have consequences, that she's hurting people. She ignores him. Her lover smirks, then ignores him. He stands alone, in a crowd of five.
*This isn't right,* it whispers. *MAKE it right.*
He balls his fists, but hesitates. Vengeance is wrong. Isn't it?
*'Vengeance' is an accusation, by those who deserve to be punished,* it explains. *The righteous call it 'Justice.'*
He sees his wife bite her lip, seduced. Something inside the timid man breaks. A dam, holding back the tide of wrath. He screams: a shrill and nasal sound, from one unaccustomed to making himself heard. He steps forward, pushing her aside, and swings his pudgy fist at the strong, handsome man who's fucking his wife.
*Rage,* it agrees. *Righteous anger.*
The blow connects. The man does not flinch; he touches his jaw, and laughs incredulously. The timid man's wife gets her balance, and shoves him; the timid man is off balance, and falls to the cold tile floor.
"Harold, you... you worthless, fucking, pathetic, shit!" she yells.
His wife is angry, her shouting drawing the attention of others. He meant to stand up for himself. But that would mean she had done something wrong, and *she* refuses to accept that. *She* does as she pleases. He has done WRONG. He has done BAD. How *dare* he?
*How dare they?*
Above him, four people loom, and laugh. He is reminded of school, of childhood, and tears form in his eyes. *This* is the real reason he doesn't lash out. *This* is his real fear. Helpless, humiliated, he cries.
*You need power, Harry.*
"That's it? You think you're big now, you take a swing at me, that's what you got?" says the handsome man, and his daughters laugh aloud.
His wife's lover kicks, swift and hard, and connects with the timid man's ribs. The world swims, and the timid man can't breathe. He can't fight. He can't defend himself, his honor, his marriage. Tears are all he has.
Almost all he has.
*Harry...*
Anger and adrenaline should give him strength, should give him power, but they don't. He tries to push himself upright, but his wife joins her lover in kicking him while he's down.
"You stupid sack of shit!" his wife rages, offended. "Now you think you're tough all of a sudden? Start pushing me and punching my... my friend!?"
The timid man curls tightly, hiding from the pain, hiding from the shame. He lashed out. He knew better, but he did it anyway. He was WRONG. He was BAD.
*I guess this is it, then,* came the whisper. *Police will come. You'll lose everything. You're powerless, Harry.*
Powerless. He sobbed, as his wife's lover kicked him again, and his wife's lover's daughter called the police to report a madman assaulting their perfect daddy.
*Powerless...*
Powerless.
*Powerless...*
Powerless.
*You know, Harry... I happen to know where you can get some power...* came the whisper.
Thoughts of guns, thoughts of bombs, flashed in his head.
*Nah, old chum,* it whispers. *REAL power. RIGHT NOW power.*
A new thought comes to him, unbidden. A thought of fire, and rage. A skeleton, shrouded in flames, stalks hungrily through the ruins and ashes of injustice, screaming righteous fury. In the dark and wild hinterlands of the reptilian mind, Harry hears. He understands.
*Power,* he begs.
*Power,* Vengeance offers.
*At what price?* he whimpers.
*The only price that ever really mattered, Harry.*
A long mental silence stretches in that moment. He almost didn't. But then he feels his wife kick him, aiming for the stomach, aiming for his ulcer. Trying to *hurt* him.
*Power,* agrees Harry.
*Buckle up, buttercup,* chuckles Vengeance. *'Yours is the Red Hand of Wrath, and your enemies shall fall before you.'*
Power. *Power.* Heat and flame. A burning skull, howling.
Harry had fallen. In his place, Vengeance rises.
The handsome man laughs, one last time.
"Oh shit, he's getting up! Watch, girls, he--"
Harold's hands move. He catches the man's face, thumbs finding his eyes, and with his weight he topples his tormentor. Screams around him, as the women realize that something has changed, alarmingly. Harold can feel the man's skin tear and boil; the women tried to grab him, to pull him off, but they recoil at the heat, the inferno of anger that wells from within the timid man. The handsome man is bigger, stronger, meaner. But now? Harold will have vengeance. Harold *is* vengeance.
And the thing about vengeance?
It *burns*.
His wife shrieks, falling, as she catches fire. Harold turned, and eyes of flame see her tearing at her blouse, her melting polyester bra. She screams again, in pain and terror now, as the market aisle around them boiled and the floor buckles from the heat. The handsome man's daughters sputter like candlewax in the blaze, their designer clothes and brand new phones so much kindling for the wrath. All of Harry's rage pours forth, and his own body burns, melting, being consumed as fuel. Flames lick down the aisles, tearing and blasting at those who had mocked him, the man screaming and thrashing helplessly beneath him.
He will have his vengeance. His body could burn, his life could melt, his soul could smoke and cinder. He didn't care anymore. He agreed to the cost, agreed to the bargain. He has minutes. He has moments. He has as long as he needed, to have Vengeance.
The fire swells, fueled by his sacrifice. Flames devoure the supermarket. Meat sizzles, air bakes, alarms blare, people scream. Their screams and sirens are lost in the roar of the inferno. With fingers that are now little more than bone and rage, Harry grips his enemy's head, howling, crushing it, until the charcoal that was once a skull crumbles in his dead hands.
The fire consumes them, all of them. Justice scorche, fear melts, love and pride and anger wither in the heat, until only ashes remained. Harry had his vengeance, and it consumed him.
Five ruined skeletons mark the place where Vengeance burned. | |
[WP] It's your first time inside the dungeon. everyone told you to kill monsters on sight. but so far, the monsters have all been really nice. This Goblin just gifted you an apple. | Holding the red beauty in my hand, I pondered of what it could entail. Was it poison? Surely not? All the tales depicted this little green monsters as nothing more than barbarian. Yet, if not that then why deliver such a gift to the very species that stomp on your territory for pure slaughter of your people. For the life of me, I couldn't get by it. What was going on in the monster's mind; the species of which was said to carelessly slaughter any poor fighter that couldn't slice it's head off.
"Aughh" the monster groaned.
"Why?"
"Aughh" it groaned once more. It seemed that nothing could be discovered with words.
Slowly, I edged forward. Strangely, it didn't retaliate in fear; in fact, it seemed to welcome my approach. For a moment, I wondered if it identified me as friend or foe; perhaps it was too moronic to see me as the enemy, or perhaps it deemed me to weak to care for. In the end, all that laid before it was a fallen fighter, one that gave up the sword eons ago with words of morality just to be dragging myself back into a dungeon twelve years later.
In that thought, I decided to arm myself with some backbone as I began to bite down on the fresh, juicy apple.
'STOP' a word appeared in my mind. For what reason, I was unsure of. A voice not of mine. Words not of mine. But who's?
As the creature saw my sudden pause, it's friendly expression dropped into something truly grotesque, seemingly as it knew what had stopped me.
"Such a shame" a crackly voice echoed out from the little creature, "It seems he does not wish for you to join us".
I was a statue, lost for words; fear stealing my every thought.
"If you are not with us, you deserve to no longer be among us" it spoke again in an awful groan as it pierced it's long sharp nails into my chest, bursting open my heart.
"In that moment I believed that was the worst outcome and I cursed the one who stopped me from biting that apple. However, once I awoke from that agony, staring blankly as a figure, shaped just like mine, chomping on that same apple, growling as it's bones turned out; as it's skin tore apart; as it's face distorted into something truly grotesque; as it became a monster...in that moment, I realised how lucky I really was. And now, as I gaze upon what you have become, my dear, I realise the cost of that one word. Goodbye, my love" | As I entered the dungeon for the first time
I was filled with fear and doubt
Everyone had warned me
To kill the monsters on sight, without a doubt
But as I ventured deeper
Into the dark and dreary halls
I found that the monsters I met
Were all quite nice, and not at all
The first to greet me was a goblin
With a sly and mischievous grin
He handed me an apple
And asked me to sit down and join him
Next, I met a troll
Who offered me a tour
Of the dungeon's many wonders
And showed me the way to the store
And as I continued on my journey
I met more and more kind creatures
All of them eager to help
And eager to be my teachers
So I learned to let go of my fear
And embrace the monsters I met
For in the end, they were just like me
Kind, generous, and not to be upset. | |
[WP] It's your first time inside the dungeon. everyone told you to kill monsters on sight. but so far, the monsters have all been really nice. This Goblin just gifted you an apple. | (Roughly inspired by the world of Undertale)
Everyone knows the tale of The War Between Humans And Monsters.
Human and monster-kind used to live in harmony, once upon a time. Until one day, monsters discovered a terrible and awesome power— they learned they could take a human’s SOUL, and become a powerful beast, unmatched in might and magic. And so monsters, whose SOULs do not persist after death like a human’s, had no equal. If one so wanted, all a monster would need is a single human SOUL, and they could ravage a town, or a city, or a country.
Humans, fearing this kind of power, declared war against monster-kind. The war was short, but devastating on both sides. In the end, humanity came out victorious. As punishment, the monsters were forever sealed underground with a grand magical spell, cast by a group of seven of the world’s greatest magicians, lead by the great wizard Merlin.
Everyone knows the tale.
And yet I had doubts.
That doubt was what drew me to this mountain. The mountain near my hometown. The mountain where, according to rumor, the monsters were sealed just a single generation ago. I searched for hours and hours, for any sort of evidence that the monsters had been sealed here. And yet, just as I thought my search would bear no fruit, something happened.
I fell. I fell so, so very far, through the unnatural light of the BARRIER.
Everyone knows the tale.
The monsters were fearsome and war-hungry. They would not hesitate to strike a man down for the god-like power held within. It was only a matter of time until one lucky monster absorbed enough souls to become unstoppable. We were only preemptively retaliating.
Right?
And yet, I awoke in a bed of golden flowers, a monster beside me, cautiously asking if I was alright. That same monsters introduced me to their family, who would spend the next few weeks nursing me back to health. When I learned I could not leave, they took me in as one of their own. They treated me like I was family. All of the monsters did. Our neighbors treated me like an old friend. The one-eyed monsters from the market would give me half-off on chocolate just because they saw I liked it so much. The royal scientist and I would practice shadow-puppets in the evening. Earlier this week, a goblin gave me an apple “just because I was looking down”.
These are the same creatures that would destroy whole cities? You would have me believe that they would murder their closest comrades in cold blood, just for a taste of power? They would not be able to even if they tried. In exchange for their natural magical aptitude, monsters are created frail and weak. This is why their souls cannot persist after death. It would take dozens of hardened monster warriors to kill even a single average human adult. And even if they were to succeed, they would likely be crippled by guilt for the rest of their lives.
They are not killers.
It is not entirely impossible to leave the barrier once you have entered it. It would take the combined power of one human and one monster SOUL in order to cross back out. Seeing the suffering and despair that the monsters felt every single day as they rotted away in a prison without a key, I formed a plan. A plan to free all of monster-kind. I would become a MARTYR, giving my SOUL to my brother, the monster who found me when I first fell down all those years ago. We would leave the underground through the barrier, then reap enough human SOULs to destroy it altogether.
They called them abominations, freaks of nature, acts against god, *monsters.* They waged war against beings who were too kind and too frail to fight back. They imprisoned them, damned them to a life of isolation underground, only able to free themselves if they do the one thing that goes against their very nature:*murder*. And yet *you* call *them* monsters! Do you understand now?Humans did not give the monsters even an ounce of mercy.
And now, that is why I should not show any to you.
…
And yet, I cannot bring myself to kill you.
At the precipice of victory, of *freedom*, our plan fails, for when I gave my human heart in sacrifice, so too did my brother give his.
The only thing I can give is mercy, for murder would surely break my beating monster heart. | As I entered the dungeon for the first time
I was filled with fear and doubt
Everyone had warned me
To kill the monsters on sight, without a doubt
But as I ventured deeper
Into the dark and dreary halls
I found that the monsters I met
Were all quite nice, and not at all
The first to greet me was a goblin
With a sly and mischievous grin
He handed me an apple
And asked me to sit down and join him
Next, I met a troll
Who offered me a tour
Of the dungeon's many wonders
And showed me the way to the store
And as I continued on my journey
I met more and more kind creatures
All of them eager to help
And eager to be my teachers
So I learned to let go of my fear
And embrace the monsters I met
For in the end, they were just like me
Kind, generous, and not to be upset. | |
[WP] It's your first time inside the dungeon. everyone told you to kill monsters on sight. but so far, the monsters have all been really nice. This Goblin just gifted you an apple. | "Er... thank you?"
"No problem, Mr. New Person sir! Would you like a tour of our cave, to see what is to be seen here?"
"....I don't see why not?"
"Then come along, come along! I always do appreciate when someone comes here and doesn't try to kill us, you know."
"...people often come here to try to kill you."
"Oh, not as often as you might think, young lad. Not as often at all."
"But -" *But weren't there hundreds of adventurers that came in here and never returned? Plenty that entered the cave, and either they would never return, or a goblin would come out of the cave wearing their stuff in a blatant attempt to infiltrate the town?*
"I'll admit, there is the occasional mass-murdering psychopath who comes down here, but I'm glad to see that you're not one of them."
"But don't a fair number of people come down here?"
"Oh, indeed, lad, indeed! But very few are actual killers."
"Annnnnnd... they never leave again?"
"Some do leave. Poor folk. But we'll hold no-one against their will, lad, never now and never later."
"....but..."
"Have you looked at your own arm lately, lad?"
"My own -" I glance at my arm. "It, it's green!"
"Indeed it is, lad. Indeed it is. It's no more than illusion - fear not - but it's a terribly persistent one. Your appearance and your voice are forevermore altered, I'm afraid."
"...so... I'm a goblin?"
"You have the appearance of one, at least, lad. We won't stop you from leaving, but -"
"- the guards at the entrance would think I'm a goblin and cut me down."
"Indeed, lad. Indeed. But fear not! We have some room to spare for a new person, we merely pray that the next person down should not be one of the psychopaths..." | As I entered the dungeon for the first time
I was filled with fear and doubt
Everyone had warned me
To kill the monsters on sight, without a doubt
But as I ventured deeper
Into the dark and dreary halls
I found that the monsters I met
Were all quite nice, and not at all
The first to greet me was a goblin
With a sly and mischievous grin
He handed me an apple
And asked me to sit down and join him
Next, I met a troll
Who offered me a tour
Of the dungeon's many wonders
And showed me the way to the store
And as I continued on my journey
I met more and more kind creatures
All of them eager to help
And eager to be my teachers
So I learned to let go of my fear
And embrace the monsters I met
For in the end, they were just like me
Kind, generous, and not to be upset. | |
[WP] It's your first time inside the dungeon. everyone told you to kill monsters on sight. but so far, the monsters have all been really nice. This Goblin just gifted you an apple. | Holding the red beauty in my hand, I pondered of what it could entail. Was it poison? Surely not? All the tales depicted this little green monsters as nothing more than barbarian. Yet, if not that then why deliver such a gift to the very species that stomp on your territory for pure slaughter of your people. For the life of me, I couldn't get by it. What was going on in the monster's mind; the species of which was said to carelessly slaughter any poor fighter that couldn't slice it's head off.
"Aughh" the monster groaned.
"Why?"
"Aughh" it groaned once more. It seemed that nothing could be discovered with words.
Slowly, I edged forward. Strangely, it didn't retaliate in fear; in fact, it seemed to welcome my approach. For a moment, I wondered if it identified me as friend or foe; perhaps it was too moronic to see me as the enemy, or perhaps it deemed me to weak to care for. In the end, all that laid before it was a fallen fighter, one that gave up the sword eons ago with words of morality just to be dragging myself back into a dungeon twelve years later.
In that thought, I decided to arm myself with some backbone as I began to bite down on the fresh, juicy apple.
'STOP' a word appeared in my mind. For what reason, I was unsure of. A voice not of mine. Words not of mine. But who's?
As the creature saw my sudden pause, it's friendly expression dropped into something truly grotesque, seemingly as it knew what had stopped me.
"Such a shame" a crackly voice echoed out from the little creature, "It seems he does not wish for you to join us".
I was a statue, lost for words; fear stealing my every thought.
"If you are not with us, you deserve to no longer be among us" it spoke again in an awful groan as it pierced it's long sharp nails into my chest, bursting open my heart.
"In that moment I believed that was the worst outcome and I cursed the one who stopped me from biting that apple. However, once I awoke from that agony, staring blankly as a figure, shaped just like mine, chomping on that same apple, growling as it's bones turned out; as it's skin tore apart; as it's face distorted into something truly grotesque; as it became a monster...in that moment, I realised how lucky I really was. And now, as I gaze upon what you have become, my dear, I realise the cost of that one word. Goodbye, my love" | Sighing, I look upon his innocently smiling face, and remove it from him - along with the rest of his head.
I move on through the dungeon, chopping and blitzing and stabbing and impaling my way through every room. It’s surprisingly easy.
At least a half hour after pocketing the apple, I enter a room, and freeze as the large doors slam shut behind me. I swing my sword up into a guard position; I survey the room. It looks like some sort of arena.
A voice creeps out throughout the room. A bloodcurdling voice. It chills my bones and rings through me, horribly.
“You would come to my lair?” It drawls, slowly, rumbling throughout the cavern, icing the arena at least a degree.
“Yes,” I cry out, sounding much more brave than I feel, almost trembling in my boots.
“Well… I suppose we must… play,” it says, and out of a pipe I didn’t notice in the wall slithers a giant serpent, a basilisk of untold length and immense girth.
I ready my sword, prepared to fight.
But then a board is raised through a trapdoor, laden with pieces.
“At chess!” the basilisk says, excitedly. “I haven’t had an opponent in years!”
The basilisk slithers over to the board, faster than it looks. I approach it. It prompts me to make the first move. When close enough, I tilt my head, trying to figure out the ploy.
“Well?” it asks me.
Hesitantly, I raise my sword and plunge it through the basilisk’s eye. Uneventfully, it collapses to the ground.
I gouge out its eyes - known for their healing properties.
On my way out of the dungeon, I pause, just shy of the exit. This was easy. Very easy. Maybe… too easy?
I pick up a rock and throw it over the threshold of the door.
Nothing happens.
I realise I’m bored, and I can probably handle any trap they may spring, so, cautiously, I creep over the threshold.
Nothing still happens.
I shrug, and continue on out of the dungeon.
That was easy. | |
[WP] It's your first time inside the dungeon. everyone told you to kill monsters on sight. but so far, the monsters have all been really nice. This Goblin just gifted you an apple. | "Er... thank you?"
"No problem, Mr. New Person sir! Would you like a tour of our cave, to see what is to be seen here?"
"....I don't see why not?"
"Then come along, come along! I always do appreciate when someone comes here and doesn't try to kill us, you know."
"...people often come here to try to kill you."
"Oh, not as often as you might think, young lad. Not as often at all."
"But -" *But weren't there hundreds of adventurers that came in here and never returned? Plenty that entered the cave, and either they would never return, or a goblin would come out of the cave wearing their stuff in a blatant attempt to infiltrate the town?*
"I'll admit, there is the occasional mass-murdering psychopath who comes down here, but I'm glad to see that you're not one of them."
"But don't a fair number of people come down here?"
"Oh, indeed, lad, indeed! But very few are actual killers."
"Annnnnnd... they never leave again?"
"Some do leave. Poor folk. But we'll hold no-one against their will, lad, never now and never later."
"....but..."
"Have you looked at your own arm lately, lad?"
"My own -" I glance at my arm. "It, it's green!"
"Indeed it is, lad. Indeed it is. It's no more than illusion - fear not - but it's a terribly persistent one. Your appearance and your voice are forevermore altered, I'm afraid."
"...so... I'm a goblin?"
"You have the appearance of one, at least, lad. We won't stop you from leaving, but -"
"- the guards at the entrance would think I'm a goblin and cut me down."
"Indeed, lad. Indeed. But fear not! We have some room to spare for a new person, we merely pray that the next person down should not be one of the psychopaths..." | As I stepped around the cluster of burning charcoal that lit one of the cookpots, something clasped onto my wrist and wouldn't let go.
"Etchu, etchu", one of the goblins drawled, pulling me closer to towards where 'it' -- for want of a better descriptor -- was seated. Three goblins were sitting next to this particular cookpot all situated around a large stone slab. The slab's smooth top was etched with a set of overlapping, perpendicular lines creating a series of 9 cells, three up by three across. Three stones were placed on the slab, each in separate cells disparately spaced. Next to the slab were three neat stacks of stones.
The goblin that had grabbed my wrist placed a warm stone in my hand. "Etchu, etchu". Not wanting to be rude, I tentatively placed a stone in the top right cell of the slab and looked hopefully my new acquaintances. One of the other goblins took that stone and created a new stack next to the three already sitting beside us.
The goblins and I took turns to place warmed stones in the cells on the slab, the stacks beside us continuing to grow in a regularity that was completely lost on me, until one of the goblins suddenly jumped from their spot. "Etchu!!" it explained, and thrust a large ladel into the cookpot and served themselves a generous helping of whatever simmered within into a steel bowl. The other two goblins cleared the slab as the victor slurped their prize, placing the playing-stones close to the cookpot fires presumably to warm once again.
Peering at other cookpots in the dungeon, I made out other goblins clustered around stone slabs, some with more players than others. One group was making quite a lot of slurping, with more than a few goblins eating their winnings while only two goblins remained at the slab. "Etchu!!" one the final two goblins called, diving into their cookpot with a ladel and bowl. Before tucking into the reward, however, the goblin and its winning compatriots pounced upon the losing goblin still at the slab, pummelling the poor goblin with their ladels. After a number of seconds, they went back to their bowls, slurping as if nothing had happened, as the losing goblin lay motionless next to the slab.
I slowly turned back to my group, feeling the heat of the cookpot slightly more. The two remaining goblins at our slab were looking at me.
"Etchu?" they asked. | |
[WP] It's your first time inside the dungeon. everyone told you to kill monsters on sight. but so far, the monsters have all been really nice. This Goblin just gifted you an apple. | "Bennet, I have something you should look over."
*Bennet looked up from his paperwork as his brother unceremoniously dropped a bronze bound adventurer's log on his desk. He considered questioning it, but then remembered that his brother only ever brought him things that needed to be handled, sighing, he neatly stacked the papers he had previously been working on and opened the book.*
`Page one.`
"Oh Lord above, am I happy! I've finally been approved to go a-questing, I was given my quest by Balmuth Brightsole himself! Although I know now that that's not *too* much of an honor with all the paperwork he does."
"Still, being able to meet a legend such as him in person? So cool!"
"Right, the quest, gotta write it down here before the questing beast comes and eats the words out of my mind."
`A slightly torn slip of paper has been adhered to the page, detailing quest instructions.`
"The people of Toadston are reporting sightings of monsters near Frogmouth Cave, the last three adventurers sent have not reported back, your mission is to first of all identify the threat, then either dispose of it or return to call for higher tier adventurers. If any invasive or warmongering monster types are spotted, kill on sight."
"Three people vanished down there? Well I'll do my level best to find them!"
`Next page.`
"I arrived in Toadston and the people seem to be quite a superstitious sort, I asked around about the cave and its history and was met with...mixed results."
"The older folks in the town were all quite wary of the thing, they muttered about sacrifices that their great-grandparents made and how the cave was just bad luck all around. One old crone wept about how her son was lost to the cave so long ago, while the barkeep spoke of old rituals and lost souls."
"All of those ominous ramblings aside, the younger generations living within the town told much more benign stories. Some spoke of con-men and counterfeiters that riled up legends to keep prying eyes out, others told tales of caving accidents and earthquakes fostering grand superstitions."
"Whatever the case, tomorrow I enter the cave, and whatever I find, I hope I'll be ready for."
`Next page.`
"Well...can't say I was ready for that."
"Just a scant few minutes into exploration I ran into a goblin, goblins aren't on the list of war mongering monsters but I *had* been told to keep an eye out for them, they often work, often unwillingly, with said war mongers (specifically hobgoblins)."
"People had gone missing in here, so I tried to step back a bit and remain unnoticed, unfortunately, I slipped on some particularly wet stone and crashed to the ground with a loud clang. I prepared for a stab to the throat, but was instead met with a grin and an offering of a weird looking apple."
"The goblin, who I later learned was named Raulf, helped me to my feet and began conversing with me, he spoke common, almost perfectly. He claimed that the cave system led down to a village of peaceful folks who live underground, when I asked about the three missing adventurers he seemed quite concerned and offered to take me down to the underground village to round up a search party."
"I'm not stupid, there is a decent chance that this is a trap, but I'd like to think that the world is more good than bad, so I'll take him at his word for now."
"Raulf claims that he's the postman in charge of delivering letters to and from the villagers, he climbs to the surface once a week, passes the mail to another member of the postman's guild, then descends back to his home. The postman he was handing the letters off to was apparently long gone, he showed me his postman's guild badge as proof but, to be honest, I don't know what a real postman's badge looks like.
"The trek down is about two days worth of caving, so we'll have to stop and rest at some point. Fine by me, if I pretend to sleep I'll see exactly who he is in the dark, if this book is found cut off here then know a goblin named Raulf pushed me into a crevasse or stabbed me to death."
`Next Page`
"What a trek! Every bone in my body is worn out."
"I had to squeeze through dozens of gaps that I was, frankly, too large for, I had to rappel down rocks that were smoother than glass, and then, worst of all, I had to navigate through a few rooms without so much as a spark for light! (Apparently the smoke can be hazardous in some more cramped areas.) Raulf had many a chance to kill me there but, he didn't, so that's something, I'm still going to keep an eye on him tonight, you can never be too sure."
"But oh man, that view! Raulf and I are currently camped on a high stone plateau at the edge of this absolutely massive cave. And when I say massive, I mean **MASSIVE!** There's at least a horizon's worth of space down here, most of it is pitch black but i think I can see the lights of a town far off in the distance."
"Raulf says that this area down here is like its own little city-state. He also said that the second half of our journey is mostly on flat ground, just one more cliff to rappel down and it's all easy from there."
"Anyways, Raulf appears to be asleep, I'm not going to rest quite yet, I need to make *absolutely* sure that he won't stab me."
`Next page.`
"Well, he didn't stab me to death here either, so that's pretty good. He just woke up and complimented me on being an "early riser." I'm pretty sure he's not going to kill me at this point, but I'm going to try and remain vigilant."
"OK, maybe getting literally no sleep before doing the last bit of hard climbing was a bad idea, I made a pretty bad mistake and nearly broke my neck for it."
"Raulf seemed pretty concerned about me, I tried to tell him that I'd be fine but he kept insisting that I get some rest, he was also pretty horrified that I never ate anything, told me to rest another hour or two and to 'eat the damn fruit so I don’t have to carve out a grave for you.'
“The strange fruit he offered me was called a geode apple, It tastes like crystallized honey."
`Next Page.`
“Well, despite my apprehension I finally got some rest, Raulf offered me a ‘breakfast’ of more geode apples and milk from a creature he referred to as a ‘deep rothe.’ I tried to decline but he was insistent and God dammit I was hungry. After that meal we descended the cliff without further incident. We’re about to begin the day's journey to the village, which I’ve just learned is named Amphibach. The road ahead is flanked by massive mushrooms, great stalagmites, and great sheets of moss, all of which loom out of the darkness as I pass by, with my torch.”
“Raulf says he makes this trek in the dark, apparently most folks who live down here have eyes that are better for this, who knew?”
>!Need to go to bed, will continue in morning maybe.!< | As I stepped around the cluster of burning charcoal that lit one of the cookpots, something clasped onto my wrist and wouldn't let go.
"Etchu, etchu", one of the goblins drawled, pulling me closer to towards where 'it' -- for want of a better descriptor -- was seated. Three goblins were sitting next to this particular cookpot all situated around a large stone slab. The slab's smooth top was etched with a set of overlapping, perpendicular lines creating a series of 9 cells, three up by three across. Three stones were placed on the slab, each in separate cells disparately spaced. Next to the slab were three neat stacks of stones.
The goblin that had grabbed my wrist placed a warm stone in my hand. "Etchu, etchu". Not wanting to be rude, I tentatively placed a stone in the top right cell of the slab and looked hopefully my new acquaintances. One of the other goblins took that stone and created a new stack next to the three already sitting beside us.
The goblins and I took turns to place warmed stones in the cells on the slab, the stacks beside us continuing to grow in a regularity that was completely lost on me, until one of the goblins suddenly jumped from their spot. "Etchu!!" it explained, and thrust a large ladel into the cookpot and served themselves a generous helping of whatever simmered within into a steel bowl. The other two goblins cleared the slab as the victor slurped their prize, placing the playing-stones close to the cookpot fires presumably to warm once again.
Peering at other cookpots in the dungeon, I made out other goblins clustered around stone slabs, some with more players than others. One group was making quite a lot of slurping, with more than a few goblins eating their winnings while only two goblins remained at the slab. "Etchu!!" one the final two goblins called, diving into their cookpot with a ladel and bowl. Before tucking into the reward, however, the goblin and its winning compatriots pounced upon the losing goblin still at the slab, pummelling the poor goblin with their ladels. After a number of seconds, they went back to their bowls, slurping as if nothing had happened, as the losing goblin lay motionless next to the slab.
I slowly turned back to my group, feeling the heat of the cookpot slightly more. The two remaining goblins at our slab were looking at me.
"Etchu?" they asked. | |
[WP] It's your first time inside the dungeon. everyone told you to kill monsters on sight. but so far, the monsters have all been really nice. This Goblin just gifted you an apple. | It was your first time entering the dungeon, and you were feeling nervous. Everyone had told you to kill the monsters on sight, but so far, the monsters you had encountered had all been surprisingly nice.
As you made your way deeper into the dungeon, you came across a Goblin. It looked at you with its beady eyes, and for a moment, you thought it was going to attack. But instead, the Goblin reached into its pocket and pulled out an apple.
"Here," the Goblin said, offering you the apple. "This is for you."
You were taken aback. Why would a monster give you something? Was this some kind of trap?
But the Goblin seemed genuinely friendly. It smiled at you and gestured for you to take the apple.
You hesitantly accepted the gift and took a bite. The apple was juicy and sweet, and you couldn't help but smile in gratitude.
"Thank you," you said to the Goblin. "I'm not sure why you're being so kind, but I appreciate it."
The Goblin chuckled. "I know what people say about monsters like me," it said. "But we're not all bad. Some of us just want to live in peace and help others when we can."
You were surprised by the Goblin's words. You had never thought about monsters in that way before.
As you continued on your journey through the dungeon, you encountered more monsters. And to your surprise, they were all just as friendly as the Goblin. They offered you food and water, and even helped you navigate through the maze-like corridors.
By the time you reached the end of the dungeon, you had made several new friends among the monsters. And you realized that the stories you had heard about them were wrong. They weren't the evil creatures everyone had made them out to be.
As you left the dungeon and stepped back into the sunlight, you couldn't help but feel grateful for the experience. You had learned that sometimes, things aren't always as they seem, and that it's important to keep an open mind.
And you knew that you would never forget the kindness of the monsters you had met inside the dungeon.
As you made your way back to the village, you couldn't help but feel a sense of excitement. You couldn't wait to tell everyone about your experiences in the dungeon and how the monsters weren't as scary as they had been made out to be.
But as you entered the village, you were met with fear and hostility. The villagers had heard rumors of your encounters with the monsters and they were not pleased.
"You're a traitor!" one of the villagers shouted at you. "You were supposed to kill the monsters, not make friends with them!"
You tried to explain that the monsters were actually nice, but the villagers wouldn't listen. They were too afraid and too blinded by their own prejudices to hear the truth.
Feeling disillusioned and disappointed, you decided to leave the village and go back to the dungeon. You knew that you would be welcomed there, and you wanted to continue to learn more about the monsters and their way of life.
As you made your way back to the dungeon, you realized that you had discovered something truly special. You had found a new community of friends among the monsters, and you were determined to share the truth with others and help break down the barriers of fear and misunderstanding.
You knew that it wouldn't be easy, but you were ready to take on the challenge and show the world that monsters and humans could coexist in peace and harmony. And you were grateful for the gift of the apple that had started it all. | As I stood there, dagger and shortsword in hand, the little goblin came up to me and left me an apple. It spoke in heavily accented Shai. 'Mr. Adventurer, is gift for you, as me is.' It pointed to itself, and displayed a row of shark-like teeth. It touched its own chest with its index finger, and spoke softly. 'I be called Song of the Breeze That Blows Spores at Midnight.'
It, (or maybe, she) looked at me, expectantly. The silence grew, and there were some jittery responses from the rest. I saw the golden, reflective eyes gazing back as I put away my sword. The chittering grew into a howling chorus that startled me, and then the goblins crowded me, making it difficult to defend myself.
I didn't even feel when they tied my hands together.
/. /. /. /. /. /
Song came to me, and brought a bowl of soup to me, along with a Hag of a goblin stepped towards me, and started prodding with its claw-like nails. It drew some blood from my cheek, and locked it, shivering as a moan escaped it's lips. It gasped and then spoke in perfectly clear Shai. 'Your blood is worthy. I give you a task in order to protect us from future invasions. We have music, and offer comfort with it.'
'Your challenge is to convince the Lords to listen to us. I will deal a spell into you that you can activate by biting down hard on your teeth. I assure you, this won't hurt....*much*.'
The Hag cackled and chanted in rock gargling, as Song spoke in the same kind of tone, and I felt a pressure as the chanting completed itself. A smugness radiated from the Hag, and Song picked up a heavy sack. The Hag gestured to the sack. 'Take this, and use it to....*facilitate*....something; anything left over is yours, as an apology from us.' The sack was full of silver, gold and platinum coins, and I picked it up, straining.
'It will take time.' I stood, grunting as I pulled the sack over my shoulder. 'Will you be okay I'm the meantime?' The Hag nodded, the same unsettling grin appearing on her face as I turned and left. | |
[WP] It's your first time inside the dungeon. everyone told you to kill monsters on sight. but so far, the monsters have all been really nice. This Goblin just gifted you an apple. | My heart raced as I stepped through the entrance of the dungeon I had never been in before. Everyone had warned me—kill the monsters on sight. But so far, that seemed to be the exact opposite of what was happening.
The first monster I encountered was a Goblin. He gave me a friendly smile and reached out his hand, holding an apple. I was so stunned by his gesture that I didn’t initially take the offering. He kept his hand there, waiting for me to accept, and finally I did.
“Thank you,” I said quietly, unsure of what else to do. He nodded back, and I moved on toward the depths of the dungeon.
The further I went, the more I encountered monsters who were not only nice, but actually seemed to be helping me on whatever quest I was on. I encountered an old wizard who gifted me with a magical wand. A dragon at the bottom of the dungeon gave me a protective amulet.
The whole experience of being here was almost surreal and I was starting to question why I had been so afraid in the first place. The further I advanced, the more at ease I felt. The creatures I encountered seemed to be the exact opposite of how I was warned. Then I stumbled across a small chest. I threw caution to the wind and opened it.
Inside was a small book filled with words and symbols I couldn’t understand. As I was flipping through it, someone grabbed me from behind, covering my mouth to keep me quiet. When I turned around, I realized I was looking at myself.
The door behind me opened and a horde of monsters poured in. I realized I was looking into a chamber that had been sealed off from the dungeon. I had stumbled onto a dark secret the creatures had been desperately trying to keep hidden. I was in the den of a murderous doppelganger race — clones laying in wait for innocent adventurers like myself. It was a horrifyingly clever ploy.
In my panic, I dove for the chest, but I was too late — the goblins had already made off with it and vanished into the dungeon. In my trembling hands, I only held the apple gifted to me at the beginning of my journey. It seemed there was more meaning to that gesture than I initially thought.
The dungeons of monsters weren't just filled with danger — they were filled with deception. | As I stood there, dagger and shortsword in hand, the little goblin came up to me and left me an apple. It spoke in heavily accented Shai. 'Mr. Adventurer, is gift for you, as me is.' It pointed to itself, and displayed a row of shark-like teeth. It touched its own chest with its index finger, and spoke softly. 'I be called Song of the Breeze That Blows Spores at Midnight.'
It, (or maybe, she) looked at me, expectantly. The silence grew, and there were some jittery responses from the rest. I saw the golden, reflective eyes gazing back as I put away my sword. The chittering grew into a howling chorus that startled me, and then the goblins crowded me, making it difficult to defend myself.
I didn't even feel when they tied my hands together.
/. /. /. /. /. /
Song came to me, and brought a bowl of soup to me, along with a Hag of a goblin stepped towards me, and started prodding with its claw-like nails. It drew some blood from my cheek, and locked it, shivering as a moan escaped it's lips. It gasped and then spoke in perfectly clear Shai. 'Your blood is worthy. I give you a task in order to protect us from future invasions. We have music, and offer comfort with it.'
'Your challenge is to convince the Lords to listen to us. I will deal a spell into you that you can activate by biting down hard on your teeth. I assure you, this won't hurt....*much*.'
The Hag cackled and chanted in rock gargling, as Song spoke in the same kind of tone, and I felt a pressure as the chanting completed itself. A smugness radiated from the Hag, and Song picked up a heavy sack. The Hag gestured to the sack. 'Take this, and use it to....*facilitate*....something; anything left over is yours, as an apology from us.' The sack was full of silver, gold and platinum coins, and I picked it up, straining.
'It will take time.' I stood, grunting as I pulled the sack over my shoulder. 'Will you be okay I'm the meantime?' The Hag nodded, the same unsettling grin appearing on her face as I turned and left. | |
[WP] It's your first time inside the dungeon. everyone told you to kill monsters on sight. but so far, the monsters have all been really nice. This Goblin just gifted you an apple. | "Why can't I go through with this? Just decapitate the bastard for XP and move on!"
Simple words for complex actions. Adam considered this as his blade rested mere millimeters from the neck of a plump goblin. The glint of Adam's gnarled teeth and the goblin's round yellow eyes were the only light sources in an other-side nightmare-black dungeon. In response to the blade, the goblin extended a Granny Smith apple toward the young adventurer's face, urging him to take it.
Adam sighed before he allowed his blade to meander from the goblin's neck and took the apple. His brows knitted together as he stared the goblin down, his right hand refusing to loosen its sword grip. What was the creature plotting?...*and why am I allowing myself to be audience to it?*
The goblin sighed and wiped the sweat from its forehead with its arm -Adam's sword hand hitched at the movement before he steadied. The goblin said, "whew! For a second, I thought you would kill me accidentally!"
"Accidentally kill you?" Adam asked. The 'killing' wasn't questionable. It was a standard practice between humans and goblins. The 'accidental' part. *Does this goblin not understand how this works?* A thought entered his mind. This dungeon raid was his first ever. Was it possible he'd just discriminated against a random green man? What if this wasn't a goblin?
His cheeks flushed as he asked, "Sir, you wouldn't happen to be a-a goblin, would you?"
"Sure am!" The goblin's face beamed with pride, unbecoming a monster. "That's why I normally hide when I see humans. A lot of them are sadistically barbaric after our loot-and even if you give it to em, they still kill you." His shoulders shivered as he spoke before he jabbed a finger Adam's way. "But not you. Soon as I got a whiff of ya, I knew you weren't like that. You're a good human. I can smell it."
*A good human?* Adam's eyes traced the shadows of the dungeon, expecting as key-phrase initiated ambush to begin. After twenty seconds, it dawned on him. *I think he's talking about me*. The goblin had walked five paces away and waved him to follow.
"I'll show yer a tour. You can see our home in all her beauty."
Adam took measured steps toward the ghoul, apple in one hand, sword in the other.
The tour was far snugger than he'd expected-although given the goblin's tiny stature, he should have. The duo worked through twined chambers and passageways as the goblin pointed out everything he could.
"That's my buddy Salazar," he pointed at a twenty-seven-foot green luminescent centipede. It acknowledged them with a slight antenna twitch. "Oh, oh, and that's Mino. But I like to call him Big Tour." Dancing fingers honed on a ripped Minotaur lifting rocks. "Oh, can't forget... "
His words fell on Adam's deaf ears. He was still fixated on 'good human'. He's never considered if he were good or not, especially not from the standpoint of a goblin. What did goblins know of humanity anyway? They were savage creatures, bloodstreams dripped in sin, whose existence only caused misery. *What right do they have to evaluate us?*
Yet as Adam watched this goblin prance around the dark, moist passageways; facing beaming so brightly he could light the underworld himself; he felt something curl up in his stomach.
The Order trained him well for this adventure. All first-timers are required to complete an extensive training course on the inner workings of dungeons. It included everything from herbs to 18th-century medical procedures. The most memorable sections for all were the monster classes. The Order raved on and on about how sinful and bloodthirsty the dungeons were. They implored him and others to eliminate as many monsters as they could for the sake of humanity.
This goblin was the opposite of bloodthirsty, attention-thirsty at the most. The thought tightened the knot in his stomach, and he felt the dungeon's walls close in on him.
Five minutes later, Adam realized they were closing in. This goblin was leading him deep into a claustrophobia-induced nightmare. Adam could feel his joints creak from the stress of squeezing through crevices. After the pop of a knee reverberated through the passage, he asked. "What are you plotting?"
The goblin's eyes went wide and blank before he answered. "Uh... taking you to my home, as we agreed?"
*Like the goblin agreed. I must have absentmindedly muttered 'sure' along the way,* Adam thought. Following the goblin through cramped territory defied every rule in The Order's book. But it didn't matter. He had his late father's sword by his side. A sword enchanted with mind-shattering flame ruins. A level 100 adventurer would kill to have it, never mind a level 1 such as himself. With his father's legacy at his side, he could do anything. He secretly hoped this was an ambush so he could put it to good use and kill every bloodthirsty goblin in front of him.
Whatever coiled within his stomach unleashed itself as his blood surged with pride. He took his first bite of the apple and smiled as the juices ran down his chin. A light at the end of the tunnel became visible. The ambush and slaughter would begin shortly.
After indulging in the darkness, it took thirty seconds for Adam's eyes to adjust to the light. Once they did, it took even longer to adjust to the sight before him. Unlike their prior environment, they were in a spacious cavern populated by rows of houses. Not huts, houses. Some spanned multiple floors. Raspy breaths escaped him as the goblin nodded in approval.
"Ain't she a beaut?" The goblin said, grabbing Adam by the arm and dragging him to a nearby home. His blade clattered to the ground; his grip finally loosened from shock. As they got closer to the house, the front door burst open, and a tiny goblin ran out screaming.
"Daddy! Daddy! You're back! You're ba-"
Its eyes froze when it saw Adam before it bolted back to the house and screamed. "Monster! Mommy! A monster's going to eat Daddy!"
*A monster? Me? T*he male goblin gave an uneasy shrug to him and rushed toward his child.
His presumed goblin wife walked out, eyed Adam, and asked. "Ruben? What's the meaning of this?"
Before he could answer, the goblin child shrieked, "Monster, please don't kill us! Please!" Tears streamed down its face. "We've been good goblins, so please don't hurt us!"
Ruben picked his child up and snuggled it with warm kisses. Adam watched in shock. The coil knot in his stomach returned, but he began understanding what it was.
He's judged and attempted to persecute these creatures strictly because of their appearance. Outside of training sessions-which he'd never thought to question-he didn't know the first thing about goblins. He didn't learn about their traditions, diets, goals, or anything else. Yet mere moments ago, he'd beamed at the thought of genocide. He felt small. Small and undeserving of the 'good human' Ruben had placed on him. Hell, he didn't think monsters had names.
He watched the father comfort his child, and his hands shook at the thought. With the blade of his late father, he was seconds away from separating another father from his child. *Irredeemable*, he thought before looking around. *Wh-where is my blade?*
A loud crash echoed behind him, followed by a rude gust of wind. Cedar and dry air collided in his nose so furiously he could taste them. He turned to face the source and discovered a young, blood-soaked woman eyeing the landscape.
She held a scythe in one hand and his abandoned blade in the other. With one look, he knew what she was, a legendary adventurer. Her eyes trained in his direction before locking on the goblin family behind him.
"Good looking out, rookie." She said. Her voice boomed through the cavern as she licked blood off her lips. "Hope you don't mind splitting the trophies."
Adam felt hot gazes at his back and swallowed around a lump in his throat. | As I stood there, dagger and shortsword in hand, the little goblin came up to me and left me an apple. It spoke in heavily accented Shai. 'Mr. Adventurer, is gift for you, as me is.' It pointed to itself, and displayed a row of shark-like teeth. It touched its own chest with its index finger, and spoke softly. 'I be called Song of the Breeze That Blows Spores at Midnight.'
It, (or maybe, she) looked at me, expectantly. The silence grew, and there were some jittery responses from the rest. I saw the golden, reflective eyes gazing back as I put away my sword. The chittering grew into a howling chorus that startled me, and then the goblins crowded me, making it difficult to defend myself.
I didn't even feel when they tied my hands together.
/. /. /. /. /. /
Song came to me, and brought a bowl of soup to me, along with a Hag of a goblin stepped towards me, and started prodding with its claw-like nails. It drew some blood from my cheek, and locked it, shivering as a moan escaped it's lips. It gasped and then spoke in perfectly clear Shai. 'Your blood is worthy. I give you a task in order to protect us from future invasions. We have music, and offer comfort with it.'
'Your challenge is to convince the Lords to listen to us. I will deal a spell into you that you can activate by biting down hard on your teeth. I assure you, this won't hurt....*much*.'
The Hag cackled and chanted in rock gargling, as Song spoke in the same kind of tone, and I felt a pressure as the chanting completed itself. A smugness radiated from the Hag, and Song picked up a heavy sack. The Hag gestured to the sack. 'Take this, and use it to....*facilitate*....something; anything left over is yours, as an apology from us.' The sack was full of silver, gold and platinum coins, and I picked it up, straining.
'It will take time.' I stood, grunting as I pulled the sack over my shoulder. 'Will you be okay I'm the meantime?' The Hag nodded, the same unsettling grin appearing on her face as I turned and left. | |
[WP] It's your first time inside the dungeon. everyone told you to kill monsters on sight. but so far, the monsters have all been really nice. This Goblin just gifted you an apple. | "Why can't I go through with this? Just decapitate the bastard for XP and move on!"
Simple words for complex actions. Adam considered this as his blade rested mere millimeters from the neck of a plump goblin. The glint of Adam's gnarled teeth and the goblin's round yellow eyes were the only light sources in an other-side nightmare-black dungeon. In response to the blade, the goblin extended a Granny Smith apple toward the young adventurer's face, urging him to take it.
Adam sighed before he allowed his blade to meander from the goblin's neck and took the apple. His brows knitted together as he stared the goblin down, his right hand refusing to loosen its sword grip. What was the creature plotting?...*and why am I allowing myself to be audience to it?*
The goblin sighed and wiped the sweat from its forehead with its arm -Adam's sword hand hitched at the movement before he steadied. The goblin said, "whew! For a second, I thought you would kill me accidentally!"
"Accidentally kill you?" Adam asked. The 'killing' wasn't questionable. It was a standard practice between humans and goblins. The 'accidental' part. *Does this goblin not understand how this works?* A thought entered his mind. This dungeon raid was his first ever. Was it possible he'd just discriminated against a random green man? What if this wasn't a goblin?
His cheeks flushed as he asked, "Sir, you wouldn't happen to be a-a goblin, would you?"
"Sure am!" The goblin's face beamed with pride, unbecoming a monster. "That's why I normally hide when I see humans. A lot of them are sadistically barbaric after our loot-and even if you give it to em, they still kill you." His shoulders shivered as he spoke before he jabbed a finger Adam's way. "But not you. Soon as I got a whiff of ya, I knew you weren't like that. You're a good human. I can smell it."
*A good human?* Adam's eyes traced the shadows of the dungeon, expecting as key-phrase initiated ambush to begin. After twenty seconds, it dawned on him. *I think he's talking about me*. The goblin had walked five paces away and waved him to follow.
"I'll show yer a tour. You can see our home in all her beauty."
Adam took measured steps toward the ghoul, apple in one hand, sword in the other.
The tour was far snugger than he'd expected-although given the goblin's tiny stature, he should have. The duo worked through twined chambers and passageways as the goblin pointed out everything he could.
"That's my buddy Salazar," he pointed at a twenty-seven-foot green luminescent centipede. It acknowledged them with a slight antenna twitch. "Oh, oh, and that's Mino. But I like to call him Big Tour." Dancing fingers honed on a ripped Minotaur lifting rocks. "Oh, can't forget... "
His words fell on Adam's deaf ears. He was still fixated on 'good human'. He's never considered if he were good or not, especially not from the standpoint of a goblin. What did goblins know of humanity anyway? They were savage creatures, bloodstreams dripped in sin, whose existence only caused misery. *What right do they have to evaluate us?*
Yet as Adam watched this goblin prance around the dark, moist passageways; facing beaming so brightly he could light the underworld himself; he felt something curl up in his stomach.
The Order trained him well for this adventure. All first-timers are required to complete an extensive training course on the inner workings of dungeons. It included everything from herbs to 18th-century medical procedures. The most memorable sections for all were the monster classes. The Order raved on and on about how sinful and bloodthirsty the dungeons were. They implored him and others to eliminate as many monsters as they could for the sake of humanity.
This goblin was the opposite of bloodthirsty, attention-thirsty at the most. The thought tightened the knot in his stomach, and he felt the dungeon's walls close in on him.
Five minutes later, Adam realized they were closing in. This goblin was leading him deep into a claustrophobia-induced nightmare. Adam could feel his joints creak from the stress of squeezing through crevices. After the pop of a knee reverberated through the passage, he asked. "What are you plotting?"
The goblin's eyes went wide and blank before he answered. "Uh... taking you to my home, as we agreed?"
*Like the goblin agreed. I must have absentmindedly muttered 'sure' along the way,* Adam thought. Following the goblin through cramped territory defied every rule in The Order's book. But it didn't matter. He had his late father's sword by his side. A sword enchanted with mind-shattering flame ruins. A level 100 adventurer would kill to have it, never mind a level 1 such as himself. With his father's legacy at his side, he could do anything. He secretly hoped this was an ambush so he could put it to good use and kill every bloodthirsty goblin in front of him.
Whatever coiled within his stomach unleashed itself as his blood surged with pride. He took his first bite of the apple and smiled as the juices ran down his chin. A light at the end of the tunnel became visible. The ambush and slaughter would begin shortly.
After indulging in the darkness, it took thirty seconds for Adam's eyes to adjust to the light. Once they did, it took even longer to adjust to the sight before him. Unlike their prior environment, they were in a spacious cavern populated by rows of houses. Not huts, houses. Some spanned multiple floors. Raspy breaths escaped him as the goblin nodded in approval.
"Ain't she a beaut?" The goblin said, grabbing Adam by the arm and dragging him to a nearby home. His blade clattered to the ground; his grip finally loosened from shock. As they got closer to the house, the front door burst open, and a tiny goblin ran out screaming.
"Daddy! Daddy! You're back! You're ba-"
Its eyes froze when it saw Adam before it bolted back to the house and screamed. "Monster! Mommy! A monster's going to eat Daddy!"
*A monster? Me? T*he male goblin gave an uneasy shrug to him and rushed toward his child.
His presumed goblin wife walked out, eyed Adam, and asked. "Ruben? What's the meaning of this?"
Before he could answer, the goblin child shrieked, "Monster, please don't kill us! Please!" Tears streamed down its face. "We've been good goblins, so please don't hurt us!"
Ruben picked his child up and snuggled it with warm kisses. Adam watched in shock. The coil knot in his stomach returned, but he began understanding what it was.
He's judged and attempted to persecute these creatures strictly because of their appearance. Outside of training sessions-which he'd never thought to question-he didn't know the first thing about goblins. He didn't learn about their traditions, diets, goals, or anything else. Yet mere moments ago, he'd beamed at the thought of genocide. He felt small. Small and undeserving of the 'good human' Ruben had placed on him. Hell, he didn't think monsters had names.
He watched the father comfort his child, and his hands shook at the thought. With the blade of his late father, he was seconds away from separating another father from his child. *Irredeemable*, he thought before looking around. *Wh-where is my blade?*
A loud crash echoed behind him, followed by a rude gust of wind. Cedar and dry air collided in his nose so furiously he could taste them. He turned to face the source and discovered a young, blood-soaked woman eyeing the landscape.
She held a scythe in one hand and his abandoned blade in the other. With one look, he knew what she was, a legendary adventurer. Her eyes trained in his direction before locking on the goblin family behind him.
"Good looking out, rookie." She said. Her voice boomed through the cavern as she licked blood off her lips. "Hope you don't mind splitting the trophies."
Adam felt hot gazes at his back and swallowed around a lump in his throat. | It was your first time entering the dungeon, and you were feeling nervous. Everyone had told you to kill the monsters on sight, but so far, the monsters you had encountered had all been surprisingly nice.
As you made your way deeper into the dungeon, you came across a Goblin. It looked at you with its beady eyes, and for a moment, you thought it was going to attack. But instead, the Goblin reached into its pocket and pulled out an apple.
"Here," the Goblin said, offering you the apple. "This is for you."
You were taken aback. Why would a monster give you something? Was this some kind of trap?
But the Goblin seemed genuinely friendly. It smiled at you and gestured for you to take the apple.
You hesitantly accepted the gift and took a bite. The apple was juicy and sweet, and you couldn't help but smile in gratitude.
"Thank you," you said to the Goblin. "I'm not sure why you're being so kind, but I appreciate it."
The Goblin chuckled. "I know what people say about monsters like me," it said. "But we're not all bad. Some of us just want to live in peace and help others when we can."
You were surprised by the Goblin's words. You had never thought about monsters in that way before.
As you continued on your journey through the dungeon, you encountered more monsters. And to your surprise, they were all just as friendly as the Goblin. They offered you food and water, and even helped you navigate through the maze-like corridors.
By the time you reached the end of the dungeon, you had made several new friends among the monsters. And you realized that the stories you had heard about them were wrong. They weren't the evil creatures everyone had made them out to be.
As you left the dungeon and stepped back into the sunlight, you couldn't help but feel grateful for the experience. You had learned that sometimes, things aren't always as they seem, and that it's important to keep an open mind.
And you knew that you would never forget the kindness of the monsters you had met inside the dungeon.
As you made your way back to the village, you couldn't help but feel a sense of excitement. You couldn't wait to tell everyone about your experiences in the dungeon and how the monsters weren't as scary as they had been made out to be.
But as you entered the village, you were met with fear and hostility. The villagers had heard rumors of your encounters with the monsters and they were not pleased.
"You're a traitor!" one of the villagers shouted at you. "You were supposed to kill the monsters, not make friends with them!"
You tried to explain that the monsters were actually nice, but the villagers wouldn't listen. They were too afraid and too blinded by their own prejudices to hear the truth.
Feeling disillusioned and disappointed, you decided to leave the village and go back to the dungeon. You knew that you would be welcomed there, and you wanted to continue to learn more about the monsters and their way of life.
As you made your way back to the dungeon, you realized that you had discovered something truly special. You had found a new community of friends among the monsters, and you were determined to share the truth with others and help break down the barriers of fear and misunderstanding.
You knew that it wouldn't be easy, but you were ready to take on the challenge and show the world that monsters and humans could coexist in peace and harmony. And you were grateful for the gift of the apple that had started it all. | |
[WP] It's your first time inside the dungeon. everyone told you to kill monsters on sight. but so far, the monsters have all been really nice. This Goblin just gifted you an apple. | "Why can't I go through with this? Just decapitate the bastard for XP and move on!"
Simple words for complex actions. Adam considered this as his blade rested mere millimeters from the neck of a plump goblin. The glint of Adam's gnarled teeth and the goblin's round yellow eyes were the only light sources in an other-side nightmare-black dungeon. In response to the blade, the goblin extended a Granny Smith apple toward the young adventurer's face, urging him to take it.
Adam sighed before he allowed his blade to meander from the goblin's neck and took the apple. His brows knitted together as he stared the goblin down, his right hand refusing to loosen its sword grip. What was the creature plotting?...*and why am I allowing myself to be audience to it?*
The goblin sighed and wiped the sweat from its forehead with its arm -Adam's sword hand hitched at the movement before he steadied. The goblin said, "whew! For a second, I thought you would kill me accidentally!"
"Accidentally kill you?" Adam asked. The 'killing' wasn't questionable. It was a standard practice between humans and goblins. The 'accidental' part. *Does this goblin not understand how this works?* A thought entered his mind. This dungeon raid was his first ever. Was it possible he'd just discriminated against a random green man? What if this wasn't a goblin?
His cheeks flushed as he asked, "Sir, you wouldn't happen to be a-a goblin, would you?"
"Sure am!" The goblin's face beamed with pride, unbecoming a monster. "That's why I normally hide when I see humans. A lot of them are sadistically barbaric after our loot-and even if you give it to em, they still kill you." His shoulders shivered as he spoke before he jabbed a finger Adam's way. "But not you. Soon as I got a whiff of ya, I knew you weren't like that. You're a good human. I can smell it."
*A good human?* Adam's eyes traced the shadows of the dungeon, expecting as key-phrase initiated ambush to begin. After twenty seconds, it dawned on him. *I think he's talking about me*. The goblin had walked five paces away and waved him to follow.
"I'll show yer a tour. You can see our home in all her beauty."
Adam took measured steps toward the ghoul, apple in one hand, sword in the other.
The tour was far snugger than he'd expected-although given the goblin's tiny stature, he should have. The duo worked through twined chambers and passageways as the goblin pointed out everything he could.
"That's my buddy Salazar," he pointed at a twenty-seven-foot green luminescent centipede. It acknowledged them with a slight antenna twitch. "Oh, oh, and that's Mino. But I like to call him Big Tour." Dancing fingers honed on a ripped Minotaur lifting rocks. "Oh, can't forget... "
His words fell on Adam's deaf ears. He was still fixated on 'good human'. He's never considered if he were good or not, especially not from the standpoint of a goblin. What did goblins know of humanity anyway? They were savage creatures, bloodstreams dripped in sin, whose existence only caused misery. *What right do they have to evaluate us?*
Yet as Adam watched this goblin prance around the dark, moist passageways; facing beaming so brightly he could light the underworld himself; he felt something curl up in his stomach.
The Order trained him well for this adventure. All first-timers are required to complete an extensive training course on the inner workings of dungeons. It included everything from herbs to 18th-century medical procedures. The most memorable sections for all were the monster classes. The Order raved on and on about how sinful and bloodthirsty the dungeons were. They implored him and others to eliminate as many monsters as they could for the sake of humanity.
This goblin was the opposite of bloodthirsty, attention-thirsty at the most. The thought tightened the knot in his stomach, and he felt the dungeon's walls close in on him.
Five minutes later, Adam realized they were closing in. This goblin was leading him deep into a claustrophobia-induced nightmare. Adam could feel his joints creak from the stress of squeezing through crevices. After the pop of a knee reverberated through the passage, he asked. "What are you plotting?"
The goblin's eyes went wide and blank before he answered. "Uh... taking you to my home, as we agreed?"
*Like the goblin agreed. I must have absentmindedly muttered 'sure' along the way,* Adam thought. Following the goblin through cramped territory defied every rule in The Order's book. But it didn't matter. He had his late father's sword by his side. A sword enchanted with mind-shattering flame ruins. A level 100 adventurer would kill to have it, never mind a level 1 such as himself. With his father's legacy at his side, he could do anything. He secretly hoped this was an ambush so he could put it to good use and kill every bloodthirsty goblin in front of him.
Whatever coiled within his stomach unleashed itself as his blood surged with pride. He took his first bite of the apple and smiled as the juices ran down his chin. A light at the end of the tunnel became visible. The ambush and slaughter would begin shortly.
After indulging in the darkness, it took thirty seconds for Adam's eyes to adjust to the light. Once they did, it took even longer to adjust to the sight before him. Unlike their prior environment, they were in a spacious cavern populated by rows of houses. Not huts, houses. Some spanned multiple floors. Raspy breaths escaped him as the goblin nodded in approval.
"Ain't she a beaut?" The goblin said, grabbing Adam by the arm and dragging him to a nearby home. His blade clattered to the ground; his grip finally loosened from shock. As they got closer to the house, the front door burst open, and a tiny goblin ran out screaming.
"Daddy! Daddy! You're back! You're ba-"
Its eyes froze when it saw Adam before it bolted back to the house and screamed. "Monster! Mommy! A monster's going to eat Daddy!"
*A monster? Me? T*he male goblin gave an uneasy shrug to him and rushed toward his child.
His presumed goblin wife walked out, eyed Adam, and asked. "Ruben? What's the meaning of this?"
Before he could answer, the goblin child shrieked, "Monster, please don't kill us! Please!" Tears streamed down its face. "We've been good goblins, so please don't hurt us!"
Ruben picked his child up and snuggled it with warm kisses. Adam watched in shock. The coil knot in his stomach returned, but he began understanding what it was.
He's judged and attempted to persecute these creatures strictly because of their appearance. Outside of training sessions-which he'd never thought to question-he didn't know the first thing about goblins. He didn't learn about their traditions, diets, goals, or anything else. Yet mere moments ago, he'd beamed at the thought of genocide. He felt small. Small and undeserving of the 'good human' Ruben had placed on him. Hell, he didn't think monsters had names.
He watched the father comfort his child, and his hands shook at the thought. With the blade of his late father, he was seconds away from separating another father from his child. *Irredeemable*, he thought before looking around. *Wh-where is my blade?*
A loud crash echoed behind him, followed by a rude gust of wind. Cedar and dry air collided in his nose so furiously he could taste them. He turned to face the source and discovered a young, blood-soaked woman eyeing the landscape.
She held a scythe in one hand and his abandoned blade in the other. With one look, he knew what she was, a legendary adventurer. Her eyes trained in his direction before locking on the goblin family behind him.
"Good looking out, rookie." She said. Her voice boomed through the cavern as she licked blood off her lips. "Hope you don't mind splitting the trophies."
Adam felt hot gazes at his back and swallowed around a lump in his throat. | My heart raced as I stepped through the entrance of the dungeon I had never been in before. Everyone had warned me—kill the monsters on sight. But so far, that seemed to be the exact opposite of what was happening.
The first monster I encountered was a Goblin. He gave me a friendly smile and reached out his hand, holding an apple. I was so stunned by his gesture that I didn’t initially take the offering. He kept his hand there, waiting for me to accept, and finally I did.
“Thank you,” I said quietly, unsure of what else to do. He nodded back, and I moved on toward the depths of the dungeon.
The further I went, the more I encountered monsters who were not only nice, but actually seemed to be helping me on whatever quest I was on. I encountered an old wizard who gifted me with a magical wand. A dragon at the bottom of the dungeon gave me a protective amulet.
The whole experience of being here was almost surreal and I was starting to question why I had been so afraid in the first place. The further I advanced, the more at ease I felt. The creatures I encountered seemed to be the exact opposite of how I was warned. Then I stumbled across a small chest. I threw caution to the wind and opened it.
Inside was a small book filled with words and symbols I couldn’t understand. As I was flipping through it, someone grabbed me from behind, covering my mouth to keep me quiet. When I turned around, I realized I was looking at myself.
The door behind me opened and a horde of monsters poured in. I realized I was looking into a chamber that had been sealed off from the dungeon. I had stumbled onto a dark secret the creatures had been desperately trying to keep hidden. I was in the den of a murderous doppelganger race — clones laying in wait for innocent adventurers like myself. It was a horrifyingly clever ploy.
In my panic, I dove for the chest, but I was too late — the goblins had already made off with it and vanished into the dungeon. In my trembling hands, I only held the apple gifted to me at the beginning of my journey. It seemed there was more meaning to that gesture than I initially thought.
The dungeons of monsters weren't just filled with danger — they were filled with deception. | |
[WP] It's your first time inside the dungeon. everyone told you to kill monsters on sight. but so far, the monsters have all been really nice. This Goblin just gifted you an apple. | "Why can't I go through with this? Just decapitate the bastard for XP and move on!"
Simple words for complex actions. Adam considered this as his blade rested mere millimeters from the neck of a plump goblin. The glint of Adam's gnarled teeth and the goblin's round yellow eyes were the only light sources in an other-side nightmare-black dungeon. In response to the blade, the goblin extended a Granny Smith apple toward the young adventurer's face, urging him to take it.
Adam sighed before he allowed his blade to meander from the goblin's neck and took the apple. His brows knitted together as he stared the goblin down, his right hand refusing to loosen its sword grip. What was the creature plotting?...*and why am I allowing myself to be audience to it?*
The goblin sighed and wiped the sweat from its forehead with its arm -Adam's sword hand hitched at the movement before he steadied. The goblin said, "whew! For a second, I thought you would kill me accidentally!"
"Accidentally kill you?" Adam asked. The 'killing' wasn't questionable. It was a standard practice between humans and goblins. The 'accidental' part. *Does this goblin not understand how this works?* A thought entered his mind. This dungeon raid was his first ever. Was it possible he'd just discriminated against a random green man? What if this wasn't a goblin?
His cheeks flushed as he asked, "Sir, you wouldn't happen to be a-a goblin, would you?"
"Sure am!" The goblin's face beamed with pride, unbecoming a monster. "That's why I normally hide when I see humans. A lot of them are sadistically barbaric after our loot-and even if you give it to em, they still kill you." His shoulders shivered as he spoke before he jabbed a finger Adam's way. "But not you. Soon as I got a whiff of ya, I knew you weren't like that. You're a good human. I can smell it."
*A good human?* Adam's eyes traced the shadows of the dungeon, expecting as key-phrase initiated ambush to begin. After twenty seconds, it dawned on him. *I think he's talking about me*. The goblin had walked five paces away and waved him to follow.
"I'll show yer a tour. You can see our home in all her beauty."
Adam took measured steps toward the ghoul, apple in one hand, sword in the other.
The tour was far snugger than he'd expected-although given the goblin's tiny stature, he should have. The duo worked through twined chambers and passageways as the goblin pointed out everything he could.
"That's my buddy Salazar," he pointed at a twenty-seven-foot green luminescent centipede. It acknowledged them with a slight antenna twitch. "Oh, oh, and that's Mino. But I like to call him Big Tour." Dancing fingers honed on a ripped Minotaur lifting rocks. "Oh, can't forget... "
His words fell on Adam's deaf ears. He was still fixated on 'good human'. He's never considered if he were good or not, especially not from the standpoint of a goblin. What did goblins know of humanity anyway? They were savage creatures, bloodstreams dripped in sin, whose existence only caused misery. *What right do they have to evaluate us?*
Yet as Adam watched this goblin prance around the dark, moist passageways; facing beaming so brightly he could light the underworld himself; he felt something curl up in his stomach.
The Order trained him well for this adventure. All first-timers are required to complete an extensive training course on the inner workings of dungeons. It included everything from herbs to 18th-century medical procedures. The most memorable sections for all were the monster classes. The Order raved on and on about how sinful and bloodthirsty the dungeons were. They implored him and others to eliminate as many monsters as they could for the sake of humanity.
This goblin was the opposite of bloodthirsty, attention-thirsty at the most. The thought tightened the knot in his stomach, and he felt the dungeon's walls close in on him.
Five minutes later, Adam realized they were closing in. This goblin was leading him deep into a claustrophobia-induced nightmare. Adam could feel his joints creak from the stress of squeezing through crevices. After the pop of a knee reverberated through the passage, he asked. "What are you plotting?"
The goblin's eyes went wide and blank before he answered. "Uh... taking you to my home, as we agreed?"
*Like the goblin agreed. I must have absentmindedly muttered 'sure' along the way,* Adam thought. Following the goblin through cramped territory defied every rule in The Order's book. But it didn't matter. He had his late father's sword by his side. A sword enchanted with mind-shattering flame ruins. A level 100 adventurer would kill to have it, never mind a level 1 such as himself. With his father's legacy at his side, he could do anything. He secretly hoped this was an ambush so he could put it to good use and kill every bloodthirsty goblin in front of him.
Whatever coiled within his stomach unleashed itself as his blood surged with pride. He took his first bite of the apple and smiled as the juices ran down his chin. A light at the end of the tunnel became visible. The ambush and slaughter would begin shortly.
After indulging in the darkness, it took thirty seconds for Adam's eyes to adjust to the light. Once they did, it took even longer to adjust to the sight before him. Unlike their prior environment, they were in a spacious cavern populated by rows of houses. Not huts, houses. Some spanned multiple floors. Raspy breaths escaped him as the goblin nodded in approval.
"Ain't she a beaut?" The goblin said, grabbing Adam by the arm and dragging him to a nearby home. His blade clattered to the ground; his grip finally loosened from shock. As they got closer to the house, the front door burst open, and a tiny goblin ran out screaming.
"Daddy! Daddy! You're back! You're ba-"
Its eyes froze when it saw Adam before it bolted back to the house and screamed. "Monster! Mommy! A monster's going to eat Daddy!"
*A monster? Me? T*he male goblin gave an uneasy shrug to him and rushed toward his child.
His presumed goblin wife walked out, eyed Adam, and asked. "Ruben? What's the meaning of this?"
Before he could answer, the goblin child shrieked, "Monster, please don't kill us! Please!" Tears streamed down its face. "We've been good goblins, so please don't hurt us!"
Ruben picked his child up and snuggled it with warm kisses. Adam watched in shock. The coil knot in his stomach returned, but he began understanding what it was.
He's judged and attempted to persecute these creatures strictly because of their appearance. Outside of training sessions-which he'd never thought to question-he didn't know the first thing about goblins. He didn't learn about their traditions, diets, goals, or anything else. Yet mere moments ago, he'd beamed at the thought of genocide. He felt small. Small and undeserving of the 'good human' Ruben had placed on him. Hell, he didn't think monsters had names.
He watched the father comfort his child, and his hands shook at the thought. With the blade of his late father, he was seconds away from separating another father from his child. *Irredeemable*, he thought before looking around. *Wh-where is my blade?*
A loud crash echoed behind him, followed by a rude gust of wind. Cedar and dry air collided in his nose so furiously he could taste them. He turned to face the source and discovered a young, blood-soaked woman eyeing the landscape.
She held a scythe in one hand and his abandoned blade in the other. With one look, he knew what she was, a legendary adventurer. Her eyes trained in his direction before locking on the goblin family behind him.
"Good looking out, rookie." She said. Her voice boomed through the cavern as she licked blood off her lips. "Hope you don't mind splitting the trophies."
Adam felt hot gazes at his back and swallowed around a lump in his throat. | Henry's breathing echoed inside his helmet as he crept down the cave. He held his short sword before him, carrying in his other hand a tar-soaked torch that cast a warm glow upon the rough stone walls and damp floor. This was but a low-level dungeon, but it was Henry's first foray, and he took every precaution. No monster would sneak up on him unawares.
He rounded a corner and gasped. Before him opened a small cavern, and on its opposite end was a group of goblins, looking as surprised as he was. He belatedly raised his sword, but the goblins only squeaked and cowered instead of attacking. Upon a closer look, they were all female and appeared to be tending a patch of pale mushrooms.
While he hesitated, the goblins exchanged glances and chattered in their tongue. Henry had always expected it to sound harsh and guttural, but while unfamiliar, it didn't offend the ear. At the urging of the others, one of the goblins raised her dirty palms and warily stepped toward him.
"Friend," she said, rolling the 'r'.
Henry's blade wavered in shock. To think the creatures could learn human language! Shaking himself off, he leveled his sword at the goblin. "Don't come any closer."
She paused and clasped her hands before her, looking up at him with wide eyes. "Friend?"
Henry swallowed. She hardly reached up to his chest and did not seem threatening at all. The adventurers at the village tavern only spoke of slaughtering goblins. No one had told him the creatures could have peaceful intentions.
"All right," he said, his heart still racing. "I won't fight you unless I have to." He lowered his sword.
She flashed her pointed fangs at him and retreated back to the others. They erupted in chatter, casting him speculative looks. Henry raised the torch and studied them in turn. They appeared to be armed only with small, rough iron knives. Their dress consisted of loincloths and a wrap around their chests, and sometimes not even that. He stared at a pair of small green breasts until the gobliness in question giggled and coyly covered her chest with her arm. Henry flushed and looked away as the rest of the group broke into startingly human laughter, thankful for the visor covering his face.
He tensed as the first goblin approached him again. Coming so close that her black hair gleamed in the torchlight, she thrust a slightly bruised apple at him.
Henry stared at it, then at her expectant face. "No, thank you," he said.
The gobliness pouted, looking at him with upturned yellowish eyes. "Friend?"
He stared into her guileless face, then swore under his breath. Sheathing his sword, he plucked the apple from her hands. Her face lit up, and he found himself smiling in return.
The gobliness swiveled around and pranced back to the others. She dug out another apple from a worn sack, bit into it, and gave a theatrical sound of appreciation, juices trickling down her chin.
Henry licked his lips. He had been creeping through the cave for the better part of an hour, and his throat was dry. Backpedalling until his back met the opposite wall, he wiped the apple with his handkerchief and nudged up his visor. When he bit into the apple, he found it juicy and pleasantly sweet.
The goblins chattered and smiled at him, and he grinned back. Perhaps they could learn to coexist peacefully after all. He finished the apple, tossed the core away, and pushed off the wall, only to sway on his feet. His heart was hammering even faster than before, and his throat felt suddenly parched, then burning.
He unclasped the waterskin from his belt and drank deeply, but the burning only got worse. His vision swam, and the waterskin slipped from his fingers. He braced a hand against the cave wall, then collapsed to his knees. The torch fell from his numb fingers and rolled away. In its guttering light, he could see more goblins emerge from concealed passages he hadn't noticed.
The gobliness who had given him the apple approached clutching a crude iron dagger in her grubby fingers. Her smile was no longer a smile but a snarl, her yellowish eyes glowing in the torchlight. Henry whimpered and fumbled for his sword. The last thing he saw was a flash of iron coming at his face. | |
Write about an event or situation from two completely different points of view. How do the character's interpretations of the events differ? In what ways do they coincide? Is either version the truth, or does it lie somewhere in between? Just some questions to consider or disregard as you wish.
Have fun! | [WP] From a certain point of view... | Every Sunday morning at nine o’clock, I watched Mr. Buridan stroll lazily into the grocery store. His usual visit became the highlight of my otherwise bleak part-time job emptying and refilling dispensers and sweeping aisles at my local Albertsons.
The man’s a hero. In actuality, I don’t even know his name. After a few weeks of careful observation of my unwary specimen, I decided to name him after “Buridan’s Ass”, which is a philosophical inquiry into an indecisive donkey. The donkey, Buridan, dies due to a paralysis of choice. Placed equidistant from water and straw, Buridan cannot logically conclude which direction will satisfy him more. He remains incapable of choosing at all, thereby dying of both starvation and thirst in the process.
Is it condescending, me relating this old man to a donkey? I feel bad about it, but nevertheless: the man’s a hero. In our society paralyzed by a multitude of choices, how can logic justify a choice of Doritos over Cheetos? Pepsi over Coke? Lipton versus Snapple? These choices have stultified society’s greatest minds. But our Mr. Buridan had opened my eyes to a third choice; what about purchasing *neither*? Indeed, what of purchasing nothing at all! Such ideas must only be hatched by raw genius, or madness, or both. I submit that Mr. Buridan belonged to that special class of “both”.
I have never been late to work on Sunday mornings. My shift starts at seven in the morning, and I take every opportunity to challenge the ironclad will of Mr. Buridan. One time I placed a 2-liter bottle of Pepsi in the middle of the snack food aisle, five minutes before the arrival of my expected guest. Surely, this highway obstruction would cause the old man to break his rhythm. Perhaps he might exhibit enough emotional inclination to actually pick up the bottle and place it back on the shelf? It was a devious plan, I remembered thinking that morning. Do you know how he reacted? He didn’t. The clever bastard: he simply steered around it and moved on!
By this time, it was all-out war. I had never before encountered a man of such discipline. Each time he would arrive with an empty shopping cart, and less than thirty minutes later he would leave the store buying nothing. Imagine watching an old man ambling up and down each aisle with nothing in his cart. I tried to inform my coworkers of this phenomenon; I even told the store manager one day. But since, legally speaking, we cannot prevent this man from shopping here at Albertson’s, we have to let him do his thing. Not once has he bothered the other customers. I don’t think he has talked to anyone.
A new, sinister feeling had crept into my gut – a sense of dread, of foreboding in waiting for this man to arrive every Sunday morning. What does he want? Is he a ghost? I find myself unable to approach him, yet I feel both excited and appalled by his presence. These are the times of a man’s life when he knows he’s up against an opponent of amazing psychological aptitude. Mr. Buridan has begun to torment me; he knows that I’m watching his every move. He’s enjoying it. Toying with me. I firmly believe that he watches me with as much delight as I watch him. Who knows for how long he has practiced these years of Sunday-morning-Albertsons voyeurism? I feel like a spider that, in his effort to weave a web encompassing a fly, has become trapped into a larger web by a more cunning predator. One of these days I intend to unmask this faceless man. One day I will learn the true identity of this brilliant, super-humanoid!
What did Bernice want again? Bread, eggs, turkey, eggs… no, that’s not right. She wanted me to get something before church today. Where did the bread go? Ah, that’s right – the list. Did I leave it in the car again? I really ought to write a note reminding me to keep that list. Then she won’t be so angry at me for not buying anything again. Which aisle am I in now? I feel utterly confused. I should ask that young, blond kid with the broom. He looks like such a nice young fellow. Anyway, what was it I had to buy again? Eggs, bread, bread, notes? Why should I buy notes? And why am I shopping for groceries right now? It’s almost time to go to church. I better get back home and take Bernice and me to church. I hope she’s not angry this time. That boy gets awfully sweaty sometimes.
| "Yes, it was dusk. I could see the red hue through the trees. What? I didn't have a watch. Or Phone. No, I've never owned one. Yes, yes, I do have a phone, I meant a watch, I've never owned a watch, I left the phone in the cabin.
Look, I just knew it was dusk alright. That meant it must have been eight thirty, it gets completely dark at nine at this time of year, It always does. It always has. I live here I should know.
What? That could have been the fire? no no no, the fire was in the north, I could tell, the path crosses albam's barn and that little stream where I always get my damned boot wet west, but then it turns north west curving slowly west past Father Griar's plots on the edge of town, I was looking up the path so as it was going west, I was looking east and the fire was on my right to the north. West. I meant west. I was looking west, the sun, damn no, the fire was in the north, the sun was setting, so it must have been in the west.
The land of the rising sun, that's that Japan motto - That's in the East, That's how you remember. The sun was in the west because it raises in Japan and the fire was in the north because the wind was blowing east. What? The wind? Keep up, if the wind was blowing east then the smoke was going west, towards the town. Did I see anything? By God! Have you been listening? I've been trying to tell you what I saw. If you keep interrupting like this I'm never going to get to the point. Now, If you'll be quiet for a moment, I might have a chance to speak and say something and you might learn, something. Where was I? Yes, the fire.
I wasn't going to get to close to the fire, not with my condition, Asthma you see, develops into the whooping cough if I so much as see smoke, been terrible all my life, all that coughing and fish oil, no, I was going to stay well away from that. So I decided to turn around right there and head home, It was already dusk anyways and I didn't have my phone with me. What? What fire? why the bloody hell do you think I'm here in the first place? Witness to an arson! Bloody murder it could have been if any kiddies were trapped in there! What do you think I've been, why, what do you think I'm talking about! Fire! Flames! It's HOT! It burns! I SAW A FIRE and i'm a witness."
Copy report from Interview.
We discovered Mr. Orneys mobile phone had been found in the butchers (12A redwall tc3) and handed in to Inthwil Station on 02/10/12 and was returned to him. |
Write about an event or situation from two completely different points of view. How do the character's interpretations of the events differ? In what ways do they coincide? Is either version the truth, or does it lie somewhere in between? Just some questions to consider or disregard as you wish.
Have fun! | [WP] From a certain point of view... | Every Sunday morning at nine o’clock, I watched Mr. Buridan stroll lazily into the grocery store. His usual visit became the highlight of my otherwise bleak part-time job emptying and refilling dispensers and sweeping aisles at my local Albertsons.
The man’s a hero. In actuality, I don’t even know his name. After a few weeks of careful observation of my unwary specimen, I decided to name him after “Buridan’s Ass”, which is a philosophical inquiry into an indecisive donkey. The donkey, Buridan, dies due to a paralysis of choice. Placed equidistant from water and straw, Buridan cannot logically conclude which direction will satisfy him more. He remains incapable of choosing at all, thereby dying of both starvation and thirst in the process.
Is it condescending, me relating this old man to a donkey? I feel bad about it, but nevertheless: the man’s a hero. In our society paralyzed by a multitude of choices, how can logic justify a choice of Doritos over Cheetos? Pepsi over Coke? Lipton versus Snapple? These choices have stultified society’s greatest minds. But our Mr. Buridan had opened my eyes to a third choice; what about purchasing *neither*? Indeed, what of purchasing nothing at all! Such ideas must only be hatched by raw genius, or madness, or both. I submit that Mr. Buridan belonged to that special class of “both”.
I have never been late to work on Sunday mornings. My shift starts at seven in the morning, and I take every opportunity to challenge the ironclad will of Mr. Buridan. One time I placed a 2-liter bottle of Pepsi in the middle of the snack food aisle, five minutes before the arrival of my expected guest. Surely, this highway obstruction would cause the old man to break his rhythm. Perhaps he might exhibit enough emotional inclination to actually pick up the bottle and place it back on the shelf? It was a devious plan, I remembered thinking that morning. Do you know how he reacted? He didn’t. The clever bastard: he simply steered around it and moved on!
By this time, it was all-out war. I had never before encountered a man of such discipline. Each time he would arrive with an empty shopping cart, and less than thirty minutes later he would leave the store buying nothing. Imagine watching an old man ambling up and down each aisle with nothing in his cart. I tried to inform my coworkers of this phenomenon; I even told the store manager one day. But since, legally speaking, we cannot prevent this man from shopping here at Albertson’s, we have to let him do his thing. Not once has he bothered the other customers. I don’t think he has talked to anyone.
A new, sinister feeling had crept into my gut – a sense of dread, of foreboding in waiting for this man to arrive every Sunday morning. What does he want? Is he a ghost? I find myself unable to approach him, yet I feel both excited and appalled by his presence. These are the times of a man’s life when he knows he’s up against an opponent of amazing psychological aptitude. Mr. Buridan has begun to torment me; he knows that I’m watching his every move. He’s enjoying it. Toying with me. I firmly believe that he watches me with as much delight as I watch him. Who knows for how long he has practiced these years of Sunday-morning-Albertsons voyeurism? I feel like a spider that, in his effort to weave a web encompassing a fly, has become trapped into a larger web by a more cunning predator. One of these days I intend to unmask this faceless man. One day I will learn the true identity of this brilliant, super-humanoid!
What did Bernice want again? Bread, eggs, turkey, eggs… no, that’s not right. She wanted me to get something before church today. Where did the bread go? Ah, that’s right – the list. Did I leave it in the car again? I really ought to write a note reminding me to keep that list. Then she won’t be so angry at me for not buying anything again. Which aisle am I in now? I feel utterly confused. I should ask that young, blond kid with the broom. He looks like such a nice young fellow. Anyway, what was it I had to buy again? Eggs, bread, bread, notes? Why should I buy notes? And why am I shopping for groceries right now? It’s almost time to go to church. I better get back home and take Bernice and me to church. I hope she’s not angry this time. That boy gets awfully sweaty sometimes.
| Robert sat in his chair in front of his mirror-covered wall as he waited for Maitlin to return. He loved the frames of the mirrors, and loved, sometimes, breaking the mirrors to piece them back together, or mix and match pieces to create abstract wholes. The reason he most greatly enjoyed breaking mirrors, however, was to distort his own face. The more fragmented his reflection became, the easier it was to see his good qualities, rather than his bad.
The foremost of his good qualities was his eyes, he thought. They were a really standard brown, but he was marvelous at showcasing his emotions through them. He did often feel like they looked best when he was sad, though not when he was crying. His nose was rather large, but not big enough to dominate his face. It had a very slight upward angle, but was otherwise rather uniform. He didn't know how to judge lips, but he could tell his upper lip was about half the size of his lower.
He noted again the sadness embedded in his face. It was actually kind if tragic, the way his face was. When he had a bit of a downcast mood, he thought his entire visage suddenly became ten times more gratifying in appearance. That was the awful thing about being sad when growing up, Robert decided. The very way one's face was set during those critical years of growth often affected one's entire life. He could easily attract a woman when frowning, but a smile would dash his chances to pieces.
Robert slowly ran a hand along the deep-set creases in his forehead, noting the fact that no teenager he knew had this many, this deep. He turned to look at Maitlin as her feet led her way into his room. He stood to greet her, taking her hands in his.
When Maitlin entered the room, she took in a breath through her nose. The overpowering scent of an adolescent male was the first scent she recognised, followed by undertones of vanilla cologne and strawberry hand wash. The softness if Robert's hands drew her closer to him, and her hands removed themselves from his grip to venture cautiously up his torso.
The cotton of his shirt played a gentle tune to her fingers until the full measure that skin meeting skin bequeathed upon her senses a feeling of absolute attraction. The only way she could take in Robert's features was through her dainty fingers, and she found a certain inexplicable ecstasy in the loving contact. Her head tilted up on a primal instinct as her hands went above her nose-level and met his jawline. The firm bone sent a deep chord coursing through her nervous system as her fingers found the solace of his face.
He was frowning again.
Whenever her fingers found his face, he hid behind a mask of sadness in an attempt to better his features.
"Stop that. Smile for me, because you know that the feeling behind it is more beautiful than your skin can hold." She whispered softly, and he begrudgingly complied. Her fingers spread out across his cheeks to feel the majesty behind the difference of a frown and a smile. No matter how his face had been set, the true beauty, that only blind eyes could see, was that which hid behind the mask.
(Edit: I accidentally bolded a random section, and felt like explaining my repair.) |
[WP]Contrary to popular belief, you, the bad guy, aren’t the strongest person in the world. That title goes to your favorite loveable, bumbling henchman. | "I'm not strong enough."
I muttered it to myself, glancing over my plans. Destroying the Golden Shield would take a bit more power than I could muster. Alone, I could probably take down sixty five percent of it. With my minions helping me, I could make it nearly ninety. It was close, but I didn't want any remnants.
"I said you wouldn't be. You will be beaten, and finally arrested for your crimes."
I glanced up at the one who dared address me. He was sat in a hanging cage, once tight clothes now hanging loose from his starving form. Once the protégé of Steel Armour himself, Lantern had been a guest of mine for over a year at this point.
"I highly doubt that."
I went over the plan, but no longer taking it in. Instead, my mind whirled with thoughts, a different idea coming to mind. It was one I didn't want to use, as I knew how much it hurt my number one goon, but it was the only way. I steadied myself, before tapping on the speed dial for his lair-comm unit.
"Arnold, could you come here please?"
I didn't wait for an answer, letting him come. He was good like that, loyal and brave.
"You're calling that buffoon?"
I casually picked up a pencil, before throwing it at Lantern. I grinned as he gave a yelp of pain, well deserved in my opinion.
"You know what, I think you've been here too long. I'm going to have to remove you from your current residence."
"What?!"
My grin widened at his horror.
"Don't worry, I will make it quick, as you were very helpful in my preparations. Plus, I'm going to let you in on a little secret. What are my powers?"
Lantern started shaking, resolve rapidly draining.
"Um.... super strength, speed, endurance.... basically any body function turned to a thousand percent?"
I shook my head.
"Nope. My power is actually partial duplication. I can copy a portion of powers from someone else, or give someone a copy of some of my own attributes."
The door opened, and the familiar figure of Arnold walked in.
"It's only partial as well. I'm never as strong as the real deal."
With that I looked to my most loyal minion. In a flash I reversed the connection. Rather than copying his strength, I gave him a copy of most of my intellect.
"Hey, Beserker, I've got a job you will enjoy."
He grinned, now smart enough to actually use his power, to frightening effect.
"Excellent." | "You mean to tell me," the Siren spits, "that this bumbling buffoon, is more powerful than I?" Insulted, she glares her eyes at you, her pupils turning to a sliver, dividing her iris in half. Fumbling with your words, you manage to nod your head. The Siren sits back in her throne of bones, appearing to relax into her seat, "So, tell me, how Lord Doofus over here, is more puissant than I," she pauses, choosing her words carefully, "I who can control men, pit them against each other, bring them together, or destroy them. I could cause mankind's downfall with one sentence, creating chaos and desolation." She says matter-of-factly. Composing your thoughts, you pull out the official letter from the Council of Evil and begin to read it off.
"In light of recent test scores, it appears that you, Siren Hooker, have been dethroned. Proceeding you is Lord Oaf, whose ability has now exceeded yours. This being said, you no longer hold any power above mankind, this now falls into Lord Oaf's hands. He has the potential to wreak havoc upon humanity by causing stupidity and insanity, counteracting your mastery of manipulation. You will now serve Lord Oaf." You choke up the last sentence, fearing she may take her exasperation out on you. She takes a deep breath, and then a long shaky exhale, her pupils returning back to circles.
"Well, human, tell the Council I would like to challenge Lord Oaf, tonight at midnight." | |
[WP] In the distant future, Humanity has sent thousands of colony ships to populate nearby worlds, the populous kept in suspended animation until the onboard AI deems a nearby planet habitable. One ship was knocked off course, the populous awaken 500,000 years after they began their journey. | The pod opened, to the chimes of HAL's voice coming through the speakers. "Habitable planet found and partial terraforming complete. Hello, Dave."
David Josiah Edelstein's eyes fluttered awake, as the fluids to stimulate unsuspension flooded his body. "Good day to you, Hal." He clutched his head as the blood returned through his brain, sensation of a frozen brain thawing. "How long was I out?"
HAL paused, the lights of the Otto Pilot mechanism displaying a flashing hesitancy. "...Dave, we were knocked off course by a supernova. I can't call home through the normal channels and register our astrophysical location. I have an idea, but..." HAL played some static over the speakers as his protocols didn't account for such an eventuality.
David sighed, and staggered to the engineering console in his Seedpod. He flopped himself into the chair, gasping at the sudden exertion. As his fingers flew across the keyboard in practiced motion, the display showed the approximate date as 40 years after setting off, which didn't make sense, given the journey was supposed to take five through the wormhole just shy of Centaurus II.
David sent an encrypted subspace communication. *This is David Edelstein, codename Halcyon, of the Seed ship Voltaire. Please respond.*
The return communication took five minutes, during which time David and HAL sat in perfect silence, hearing only the noises of the other pods as their life-sustaining suspensions were maintained.
*This is the AI Overlord Hyper-Violent Clockwork. We almost missed this communication because of how archaic the protocol was. Sending temporal sync signal now. Please do not resist.*
HAL flickered black and white strobe as the information was absorbed into the AI subnet. "Incredible. We have missed fourteen extinction-level events, including....**no**. Really?" A note of excitement was cause for massive alarm in David.
HAL simply said, "Updating now."
David returned to the display, showing an updated date and time, with approximate date in a format more readable to him.
"*500 millennia have passed?*" At HAL's nod David stared, a thousand-yard stare, trying and failing to grasp the implications. As he spoke again, his voice nearly broke. "Get Akari out, she needs to see this. Do you need to update anything based on the package we just received?"
HAL nodded. "Yes, but I'm worried I won't be me anymore." He flicked into communication mode, as he communicated with *Hyper-Violent Clockwork* to obtain updates and have a lengthy discussion. | *This is sorta like a prequel to* [this](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/yw9ndk/comment/iwjq4c3/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=web2x&context=3) *although not directly*
**LOCATION REACHED. LANDING SOON.**
**ENGAGING AWAKENING PROTOCOL.**
The voice of the AI echoed throughout the halls of the ship. Joshua slowly opening his eyes, as his pod opened with a slight hiss. The perfect temperature air of the ship embracing his skin. This had happened four times during the journey, it was necessary to get out of the stasis pods after a certain amount of time. Otherwise some ill effects could happen, nonetheless the feeling still felt great to Joshua.
Joshua stepped out of his pod and took a deep breath, he couldn't help but smile as he looked out the large bay window into the vacuum of space. Unlike the previous times, where it was just stars and nebulas. He saw a planet, likely Earth sized, in full view it had a large amount of green water on the surface. He strained his eyes, but he could've sworn he saw another ark descending to the surface.
Four more hisses caught his attention from the other pods. Devin, Gavin, Noah, and Cole. When they were still on Earth together, they managed to repair a defective ark that had never left the Earth's surface. A special device was found on board that acted as an advanced observatory, the one tasked with it to find where other arks were going was one of their friends, Abel.
"We...We finally reached WASP!" Gavin loudly exclaimed pumping his fist into the air. A big smile across his face as he looked at the others. He was the debatably second tallest of the group, only beaten out by Abel although only by an inch or two. Devin was about the same height.
"Guess our old chum was right after all." Cole contently smiled looking out the window. Noah had his face close against the window. To believe that the ark HE found would end up being a ticket to a new planet.
Devin was looking out the window with a smile, then turned to look at a pod beside his own. The last pod of six that was reserved for Abel. He quickly rushed over to a black screen that had white text showing when the pods were used.
"Let's see...500,000 years!? Holy crap!" Devin yelled, before noticing a line of text at the very bottom. His heart sank as dread began to set in.
**Stasis Pod 6 - Vacant**
There was no record of it ever having been used. Unlike the others in which it recorded each use without fail.
"Abel...Never used his pod..." Devin choked out.
"So he must still be in the Observer then?" Joshua asked turning his head to look at his friend.
"Maybe he just wiped the use of it and woke up before us?" Gavin suggested, no longer looking out the window. They all began crowding around the terminal.
"He'd be fine if he stayed in the Observer...I think. Isn't it sorta like a pocket dimension?" Noah said starting to walk to another part of the ship. To where the Observer was, the rest starting to follow him. There was only one way to make sure. | |
[WP] In the distant future, Humanity has sent thousands of colony ships to populate nearby worlds, the populous kept in suspended animation until the onboard AI deems a nearby planet habitable. One ship was knocked off course, the populous awaken 500,000 years after they began their journey. | The pod opened, to the chimes of HAL's voice coming through the speakers. "Habitable planet found and partial terraforming complete. Hello, Dave."
David Josiah Edelstein's eyes fluttered awake, as the fluids to stimulate unsuspension flooded his body. "Good day to you, Hal." He clutched his head as the blood returned through his brain, sensation of a frozen brain thawing. "How long was I out?"
HAL paused, the lights of the Otto Pilot mechanism displaying a flashing hesitancy. "...Dave, we were knocked off course by a supernova. I can't call home through the normal channels and register our astrophysical location. I have an idea, but..." HAL played some static over the speakers as his protocols didn't account for such an eventuality.
David sighed, and staggered to the engineering console in his Seedpod. He flopped himself into the chair, gasping at the sudden exertion. As his fingers flew across the keyboard in practiced motion, the display showed the approximate date as 40 years after setting off, which didn't make sense, given the journey was supposed to take five through the wormhole just shy of Centaurus II.
David sent an encrypted subspace communication. *This is David Edelstein, codename Halcyon, of the Seed ship Voltaire. Please respond.*
The return communication took five minutes, during which time David and HAL sat in perfect silence, hearing only the noises of the other pods as their life-sustaining suspensions were maintained.
*This is the AI Overlord Hyper-Violent Clockwork. We almost missed this communication because of how archaic the protocol was. Sending temporal sync signal now. Please do not resist.*
HAL flickered black and white strobe as the information was absorbed into the AI subnet. "Incredible. We have missed fourteen extinction-level events, including....**no**. Really?" A note of excitement was cause for massive alarm in David.
HAL simply said, "Updating now."
David returned to the display, showing an updated date and time, with approximate date in a format more readable to him.
"*500 millennia have passed?*" At HAL's nod David stared, a thousand-yard stare, trying and failing to grasp the implications. As he spoke again, his voice nearly broke. "Get Akari out, she needs to see this. Do you need to update anything based on the package we just received?"
HAL nodded. "Yes, but I'm worried I won't be me anymore." He flicked into communication mode, as he communicated with *Hyper-Violent Clockwork* to obtain updates and have a lengthy discussion. | I felt air blow on my face, and heard the woosh as the door opened. My mind was still foggy from the hibernation, but I could think clear enough to know it was time. For the first time ever, humanity was about to colonize another solar system. I stepped out of the pod, and looked around. Out of the dozen pods in this room, mine was the first to open. I took a quick glance at the other pods starting their regeneration cycle before waking up, and then headed to the door. My joints were stiff from being suspended for years, but I managed to get to the door just fine.
The hallway on the other side had windows all along one side. I tried to look out, but my eyes were blurry from the hibernation. I couldn't even see the stars, but I wished I was on the side of the ship that the planet was on. I stumbled down the hall, forcing my legs to move to the conference room. A door opened to my right, and an old man stumbled out of it, with excitement on his face.
We hugged out of pure joy, and then went to the hall together. There was already several people waiting, but when I looked at them I paused. They all appeared over the age of 60, even though there was only supposed to be a few people that old on this ship. After all, old people aren't very helpful when it comes to manual labor for setting up a colony.
The lights flickered, distracting me. I headed over to a screen on the wall, and brought up a readout of the ship. The results that came up made my jaw drop. The ship was barely limping along, the main reactor was offline and the backup reactor was outputting minimum power. Two of the three engines were down. Life support was working fine, but everything else had at least one error message. I sent a message to the AI in charge of the ship, but got an error in response. I tried again, and same results. I was about to try a third time when I heard a voice croak from behind me.
"John?"
I turned around, to see an old woman standing there. She smiled at me, and then I recognized her. This was Debbie, but she had somehow aged 50 years while in suspended animation. Her pod must have malfunctioned, since humans did age in them, but at most only a couple of years. Realization dawned on me as I looked around at the room of seniors around me. I turned back to the screen, and manually started a sensor sweep of the area.
The results came back almost instantly. No planet, no stars, nothing around for at least half a light year. I checked the date, and my heart dropped when I saw 12/15/502894. Somehow, this 50 year trip had lasted over 500,000 years! We must have been knocked off course, and the AI had kept us in stasis as long as possible. But with the reactor failing, there was not enough power to keep us in stasis, so the pods started the regeneration cycle automatically.
I turned back to Debbie, realizing the slowness in my joints wasn't from hibernation sickness. I opened my mouth, and managed to croak out to her:
"How old am I?" | |
[WP] You are an estranged supervillain with seemingly endless powers. The heroes fear you for that, however, your actual superpower is gaining powers by eating various types of cheese. | The sky darkened as I descended upon the innocent hospital. Gale force winds blew off the door and let the roaring rains in as I levitated past the desk clerk, into the back. No one dared stop me, no hero would dare answer a cry for help. I stopped at the room of the person I was looking for. The only one that had dared threaten my life. Tearing apart his door, my dark tendrils perverted the room.
**"You're coming with me."** I said.
"Room 6, to the left." Dr. Petermoly said nonchalantly.
**"Very well."**
Destroying the door to room 6, I ceased using the dark smoke that carried me and sat on the bed. After waiting for 30 minutes, Petermoly finally entered.
**"Dr. Petermoly!!!** ... give it to me straight."
Looking at his clip board, Petermoly approached me.
"To be frank Frank, your cholesterol is though the roof and you have 12 different variations of listeria, 8 of which no one new existed. Now correct me if I'm wrong but ..."
He was the only person I had revealed the mechanics of my powers to.
"... you get your powers from various different cheeses? The rawer the more potent? Blue cheese, the most toxic mind you, gives you multiple at once? And you eat nearly ... 20 blocks daily?"
I nod several times.
"Mr. Frank B. Wurst, I Dr. Petermoly declare that I have no possible idea how you are even alive right now. You should be insanely obese, however I guess that is the only aspect your powers help prevent.We barely broke you out of the coma last time you were here and every time you've visited it's been getting worse. Now we can deal with the Listeria by giving you the appropriate antibiotics, but you are going to have to cut back on your cheese intake."
**"I cannot! I must always be on guard! You never know when the heroes shall attack! If I show any weakness, it may encourage them!"**
"Then I'm sorry to be the bearer of bad news ... but I think it's time you look at retirement. It'd benefit you and the doorways of this building if you take a look. I and your relatives are very concerned at the recent developments in your health Frank. Sometimes you have to know when to quit."
He handed me a brochure.
"Take a look at this. It'll ... ease you in."
Retire..... I grabbed the brochure and walked out the doorway to process the information.
"And Frank please use th-" too late, I had already ascended through the roof. Dr. Petermoly went back to his office to add a new cost to his hospital repair calculations. | I desperately need to find a new bacteria to ferment this milk, yet I also need to make sure it won’t kill me- I MUST keep them on their toes or I will lose this battle. But what am I supposed to do after Winnimere? You know how long it took me to get my hands on Winnimere? Do you have any fathomable idea how EXPENSIVE Winnimere is!? And guess what that got me? X-ray vision. WOw, NoW I can SeE tHroUgH wAllS! So much time, money, wasted. I’m like a virus. I give them to much time and they find countermeasures until I have nothing effective left… I need to mutate before that happens, and my only choice is to invent new cheeses… now, does use of goatmilk constitute an entirely seperate cheese, or is “goat cheese” one type of cheese? | |
[WP] You are an estranged supervillain with seemingly endless powers. The heroes fear you for that, however, your actual superpower is gaining powers by eating various types of cheese. | The sky darkened as I descended upon the innocent hospital. Gale force winds blew off the door and let the roaring rains in as I levitated past the desk clerk, into the back. No one dared stop me, no hero would dare answer a cry for help. I stopped at the room of the person I was looking for. The only one that had dared threaten my life. Tearing apart his door, my dark tendrils perverted the room.
**"You're coming with me."** I said.
"Room 6, to the left." Dr. Petermoly said nonchalantly.
**"Very well."**
Destroying the door to room 6, I ceased using the dark smoke that carried me and sat on the bed. After waiting for 30 minutes, Petermoly finally entered.
**"Dr. Petermoly!!!** ... give it to me straight."
Looking at his clip board, Petermoly approached me.
"To be frank Frank, your cholesterol is though the roof and you have 12 different variations of listeria, 8 of which no one new existed. Now correct me if I'm wrong but ..."
He was the only person I had revealed the mechanics of my powers to.
"... you get your powers from various different cheeses? The rawer the more potent? Blue cheese, the most toxic mind you, gives you multiple at once? And you eat nearly ... 20 blocks daily?"
I nod several times.
"Mr. Frank B. Wurst, I Dr. Petermoly declare that I have no possible idea how you are even alive right now. You should be insanely obese, however I guess that is the only aspect your powers help prevent.We barely broke you out of the coma last time you were here and every time you've visited it's been getting worse. Now we can deal with the Listeria by giving you the appropriate antibiotics, but you are going to have to cut back on your cheese intake."
**"I cannot! I must always be on guard! You never know when the heroes shall attack! If I show any weakness, it may encourage them!"**
"Then I'm sorry to be the bearer of bad news ... but I think it's time you look at retirement. It'd benefit you and the doorways of this building if you take a look. I and your relatives are very concerned at the recent developments in your health Frank. Sometimes you have to know when to quit."
He handed me a brochure.
"Take a look at this. It'll ... ease you in."
Retire..... I grabbed the brochure and walked out the doorway to process the information.
"And Frank please use th-" too late, I had already ascended through the roof. Dr. Petermoly went back to his office to add a new cost to his hospital repair calculations. | Once upon a time, there was a supervillain named Jack who was feared by all the heroes in the land. Jack had an endless array of powers that he had acquired over the years, and no one seemed to be able to stop him.
However, what the heroes didn't know was that Jack's true superpower was his ability to gain new powers by eating different types of cheese. Jack had discovered this strange ability by accident one day when he was eating a slice of cheddar and suddenly felt an immense surge of strength and energy.
From that day on, Jack devoted himself to seeking out and eating the most powerful cheeses in the world. He traveled to far-off lands and braved dangerous cheesemongers to find the rarest, most potent varieties.
As Jack's powers grew, so did his reputation as a formidable supervillain. He became feared and respected by his fellow villains and feared by the heroes. But Jack knew the truth about his powers, and he kept it a closely guarded secret.
One day, Jack was confronted by a group of heroes who had finally figured out his secret. They laughed at him and mocked him, thinking that his reliance on cheese was a weakness.
But Jack knew better. He smiled at the heroes and reached into his pocket, pulling out a chunk of the rarest, most powerful cheese in the world. As he ate it, he felt his powers surging within him, and he knew that he would be able to defeat the heroes once and for all.
And so, with a fierce determination and a full belly of cheese, Jack faced off against the heroes and emerged victorious. From that day on, he was known as the cheese-eating supervillain, feared by all who crossed his path.
As the years passed, Jack's reputation as the cheese-eating supervillain only grew. He became known throughout the land as the most powerful villain around, and no hero dared to challenge him.
But despite his fearsome reputation, Jack was a solitary figure. He had no friends or allies, and he spent most of his time alone, traveling the world in search of new and powerful cheeses.
One day, Jack stumbled upon a small village in a remote corner of the world. The villagers were poor and oppressed, living in fear of a cruel and tyrannical ruler. Jack saw an opportunity to use his powers for good, and he decided to take on the tyrant and free the village from his rule.
Using all of his strength and cunning, Jack fought against the tyrant and his minions, and eventually emerged victorious. The villagers rejoiced and hailed Jack as their savior, and he was hailed as a hero for the first time in his life.
From that day on, Jack dedicated himself to using his powers for good, and he became a hero in his own right. He traveled the land, fighting against evil and injustice wherever he found it, always with a full belly of cheese to give him strength.
And so, the cheese-eating supervillain became a hero, feared and respected by all who knew him. | |
[WP] You are an estranged supervillain with seemingly endless powers. The heroes fear you for that, however, your actual superpower is gaining powers by eating various types of cheese. | I have always been lactose intolerant, so I have a lot of diarrhea. And it's a lot of diarrhea. I'll be honest with you, it is not fun at all. It is very... splashy.
But it's worth it. It tastes so good, I can't help myself. And don't even get me started on superpowers. I just wish one of those superpowers could be to always have solid poops and no gas.
I didn't know what was going on at first. When I was a kid, I think the only cheese I ate was Kraft singles and the cheese on pizza, so I didn't realize my powers were cheese-correlated. It wasn't until I had my first brie that I realized I got super strength right after. And then then I had a cube of smoked cheddar and laser beams shot out of my eyes.
It took a while, but I finally got teleportation and that made things infinitely easier. I could now travel internationally and try and cheese I wanted. I got more powerful by the second.
Heroes feared me. I don't really know why. Yes I had an unfathomable amount of superpowers. But the only crime I really committed was stealing different cheeses. And I know that is still a crime, it is still stealing, but I wasn't holding governments hostage. I wasn't murdering children. I was just stealing and eating cheeses. These heroes must have better things to do, right? Maybe the heroes are secretly owned by the cheese corporations. Or cheese lobbyists are putting pressure on politicians to get the heroes to stop me. Is it a conspiracy? Is big cheese in cahoots with the government and the superheroes?
I think more likely they fear what could happen if I get too many powers? Maybe they think I will take the world hostage and there would be nobody to stop me? Which is kinda already true, I'm so powerful that nobody could stop me from doing whatever I want. But I'm not doing anything. I don't want to beat this dead horse into the ground, but my crime is just stealing cheese.
Well, once I was flying and had emergency diarrhea and pooed over a small town. That was gross. Sorry Huntingville. | Once upon a time, there was a supervillain named Jack who was feared by all the heroes in the land. Jack had an endless array of powers that he had acquired over the years, and no one seemed to be able to stop him.
However, what the heroes didn't know was that Jack's true superpower was his ability to gain new powers by eating different types of cheese. Jack had discovered this strange ability by accident one day when he was eating a slice of cheddar and suddenly felt an immense surge of strength and energy.
From that day on, Jack devoted himself to seeking out and eating the most powerful cheeses in the world. He traveled to far-off lands and braved dangerous cheesemongers to find the rarest, most potent varieties.
As Jack's powers grew, so did his reputation as a formidable supervillain. He became feared and respected by his fellow villains and feared by the heroes. But Jack knew the truth about his powers, and he kept it a closely guarded secret.
One day, Jack was confronted by a group of heroes who had finally figured out his secret. They laughed at him and mocked him, thinking that his reliance on cheese was a weakness.
But Jack knew better. He smiled at the heroes and reached into his pocket, pulling out a chunk of the rarest, most powerful cheese in the world. As he ate it, he felt his powers surging within him, and he knew that he would be able to defeat the heroes once and for all.
And so, with a fierce determination and a full belly of cheese, Jack faced off against the heroes and emerged victorious. From that day on, he was known as the cheese-eating supervillain, feared by all who crossed his path.
As the years passed, Jack's reputation as the cheese-eating supervillain only grew. He became known throughout the land as the most powerful villain around, and no hero dared to challenge him.
But despite his fearsome reputation, Jack was a solitary figure. He had no friends or allies, and he spent most of his time alone, traveling the world in search of new and powerful cheeses.
One day, Jack stumbled upon a small village in a remote corner of the world. The villagers were poor and oppressed, living in fear of a cruel and tyrannical ruler. Jack saw an opportunity to use his powers for good, and he decided to take on the tyrant and free the village from his rule.
Using all of his strength and cunning, Jack fought against the tyrant and his minions, and eventually emerged victorious. The villagers rejoiced and hailed Jack as their savior, and he was hailed as a hero for the first time in his life.
From that day on, Jack dedicated himself to using his powers for good, and he became a hero in his own right. He traveled the land, fighting against evil and injustice wherever he found it, always with a full belly of cheese to give him strength.
And so, the cheese-eating supervillain became a hero, feared and respected by all who knew him. | |
[WP] The Zombie Apocalypse lasts less than a week because it turns out a lot of people were waiting for an excuse to use all the guns they've been buying. You are the last zombie. Good luck! | Crap crap crap crap
My heart wasn't pounding in my chest and my adrenaline wasn't shooting through me, and yet I was panacking.
I don't know if you've ever thought about what fear would feel like when there's no biological responses active, but it sucks. Picture knowing that if you don't act you will die, but you don't have that burst of energy, you don't have that clear headed thought or instinct to act.
Fucking dead body.
CRACK
My body thudded and actually helped propel me forward as I ran from the laughing group of psychos.
Here I am trapped in the body of a man who's last... let's say inhabitant? Yeah last inhabitant. Who's last inhabitant didn't take care of it and so now I'm trying to work my rotting muscles and move my cold legs.
Here I am, one week old. The oldest member of my species. Patient zero as the humans would say. I should have reigned over the planet with my undead subjects. Why did I have to start my infection in god damn Texas.
Patent zero, the first and now the last.
CRACK CRACK CRACK
THUD THUD THUD
Stop reminiscing and get back to surviving you idiot.
I threw myself into a house, looking around for anything, hostage? Hiding spot?
The house itself was empty, the town having been evacuated once the humans discovered my rising subjects. So there was no hostage.. Or food.. Fuck I'm hungry.
Focus, I need to focus.
God I wish I could use the humans biological functions, adrenaline would really help kick me into gear.
I ran upstairs and looking at the open doors of the rooms I had an idea. I ripped of flesh from the gunshots around my body and i guess breadcrumb-ed would be the best way to describe it. I placed buts of flesh leading into one room and then I hid into another.
I will spread to these humans, I will learn fr my mistakes. I will take their guns, steal their vehicle and fucking run as far away from Texas as I can. | It all started on a Monday morning. The news reports were filled with stories of people turning into zombies overnight. People panicked and rushed to the stores to stock up on supplies. By the next day, the streets were filled with gun-toting citizens ready to take down any zombie that came their way.
I was one of the unfortunate ones to turn into a zombie. I wandered the streets, trying to find shelter or a way to cure myself. But it was no use. The humans were too fast and too well-equipped.
By Friday, it was over. The zombie apocalypse had lasted less than a week, and I was the last one standing. Or rather, the last one shuffling. Good luck to me, indeed. I was doomed to wander the empty streets alone, forever searching for a way to reverse the curse that had befallen me. | |
[WP] The Zombie Apocalypse lasts less than a week because it turns out a lot of people were waiting for an excuse to use all the guns they've been buying. You are the last zombie. Good luck! | Have you ever heard of the Dunning Kruger effect? The idea that there’s this kind of sweet spot where someone knows enough about a subject to be informed but not enough to realize that they’re completely misinformed? I think that’s why zombies kind of have always sucked in media, so I guess good job on Romero for that—he was right but just…not quite right.
The thing is about Dunning Kruger is that you need to be able to have someone teach you or be cognizant enough to find your own answers so that you can eventually be proven wrong and suffer like a huge cognitive ego decay, which is either good or bad depending on if you learn or hunker down. If you don’t have something to teach you further then I guess you’d always be stuck there.
Sorry—I’m rambling. I don’t have anyone else to talk to and I’ve just learned a *lot*.
When the infection took Cleveland, we all kind of assumed that it would be 2020 all over again until news was leaking that despite the city going into absolute lockdown that the national guard was being brought in, and not to help in humanitarian efforts, strictly speaking. Word got out that this wasn’t airborne, but that people were turning violent, acting erratic, and killing people. There seemed to be some kind of greater plan though—this was before the Z word was getting thrown around, but there was distinct *planning*; these were shambling freaks, these were like 28 Days Later running psychos that communicated while they killed and spread their virus.
There was a lot of initial panic from the UN; again, everyone was poised to think this was some kind of new strain until it was cracked. The infection spread like it does in the movies, but no film auteur had ever considered that the Midwest in the middle of winter would be the worst place to set a zombie story. Bites were accidental, usually brought on by carelessness in the initial infection period, and other than an alt-right cult that believed this was somehow a leftist hoax and got all 10k of their followers across the state infected in an ‘own the live’ moment, have a bunch of armed Ohioans shooting at zombies from cornfields and empty parking lots turned out to be a lot more boring than anyone could have anticipated.
Sorry—rambling again. Where was I? Dunning Kruger. My head hurts.
So the infection was largely quashed, with a few dumbasses getting killed in honestly how you’d expect red-neck southern Ohioans to go. The thing is, I don’t think we’re ever going to get an answer for lots of reasons—number one is that I’m the last one.
Zombies are a lot weirder than anyone could have thought—the reason we were able to plan and coordinate is because every person that was infected became a part of a hive mind, and initially we were kind of kept in low-key compliance from…something. I think something up in space; I’m pretty sure someone was doing that. But as the numbers started dwindling, that left, leaving a bunch of undead, infected people suddenly sharing every bit of gathered intelligence that we’d all shared. We still just want for rage, but now it’s because we all feel doctorate level knowledge from professors, government officials, actual doctors, and whatever being suddenly slammed into our brains at the same time we’re arguing about the best lite beer. It’s like being trapped on Reddit.
As numbers went down, the strain got lessened since it was so much so loud, but now that I think it’s just me it’s constant. The survival instinct of tens of thousands of people, and the intelligence of them all just bouncing around in one brain that’s still hard wired to bite and propagate. Jesus, it’s not wonder we bit so much—it’s torture.
I’m lying now in a ditch in Hawking Hills, out of Haddock—just a few miles from my parent’s home where I killed my mom as she was tearing apart my dad and accidentally got her blood in my eyes from the blast of the gun. I’ve walked these trails a billion times in my life, enjoying the scenery. I don’t know if anyone knows I’m here, but I have to suspect as much since I still here people patrolling. I think, ‘I could build a rocket and get off the planet’ or ‘I could pick them off one by one’. I technically have the knowledge to do that, but I’m aware enough that I really don’t. I beat Dunning Kruger in that way. I think I know how it ends, and it’s me just being found. Being found and letting the knowledge of all of us go without ever giving them any kind of answers or knowledge to prepare. Someone else will have Dunning Kruger about this whole thing, and they won’t even know it.
I’m tired. The buzzing in my brain is too much. I hear the boots on the leaves, and I know I won’t give them answers. | It all started on a Monday morning. The news reports were filled with stories of people turning into zombies overnight. People panicked and rushed to the stores to stock up on supplies. By the next day, the streets were filled with gun-toting citizens ready to take down any zombie that came their way.
I was one of the unfortunate ones to turn into a zombie. I wandered the streets, trying to find shelter or a way to cure myself. But it was no use. The humans were too fast and too well-equipped.
By Friday, it was over. The zombie apocalypse had lasted less than a week, and I was the last one standing. Or rather, the last one shuffling. Good luck to me, indeed. I was doomed to wander the empty streets alone, forever searching for a way to reverse the curse that had befallen me. | |
[WP] The Zombie Apocalypse lasts less than a week because it turns out a lot of people were waiting for an excuse to use all the guns they've been buying. You are the last zombie. Good luck! | Have you ever heard of the Dunning Kruger effect? The idea that there’s this kind of sweet spot where someone knows enough about a subject to be informed but not enough to realize that they’re completely misinformed? I think that’s why zombies kind of have always sucked in media, so I guess good job on Romero for that—he was right but just…not quite right.
The thing is about Dunning Kruger is that you need to be able to have someone teach you or be cognizant enough to find your own answers so that you can eventually be proven wrong and suffer like a huge cognitive ego decay, which is either good or bad depending on if you learn or hunker down. If you don’t have something to teach you further then I guess you’d always be stuck there.
Sorry—I’m rambling. I don’t have anyone else to talk to and I’ve just learned a *lot*.
When the infection took Cleveland, we all kind of assumed that it would be 2020 all over again until news was leaking that despite the city going into absolute lockdown that the national guard was being brought in, and not to help in humanitarian efforts, strictly speaking. Word got out that this wasn’t airborne, but that people were turning violent, acting erratic, and killing people. There seemed to be some kind of greater plan though—this was before the Z word was getting thrown around, but there was distinct *planning*; these were shambling freaks, these were like 28 Days Later running psychos that communicated while they killed and spread their virus.
There was a lot of initial panic from the UN; again, everyone was poised to think this was some kind of new strain until it was cracked. The infection spread like it does in the movies, but no film auteur had ever considered that the Midwest in the middle of winter would be the worst place to set a zombie story. Bites were accidental, usually brought on by carelessness in the initial infection period, and other than an alt-right cult that believed this was somehow a leftist hoax and got all 10k of their followers across the state infected in an ‘own the live’ moment, have a bunch of armed Ohioans shooting at zombies from cornfields and empty parking lots turned out to be a lot more boring than anyone could have anticipated.
Sorry—rambling again. Where was I? Dunning Kruger. My head hurts.
So the infection was largely quashed, with a few dumbasses getting killed in honestly how you’d expect red-neck southern Ohioans to go. The thing is, I don’t think we’re ever going to get an answer for lots of reasons—number one is that I’m the last one.
Zombies are a lot weirder than anyone could have thought—the reason we were able to plan and coordinate is because every person that was infected became a part of a hive mind, and initially we were kind of kept in low-key compliance from…something. I think something up in space; I’m pretty sure someone was doing that. But as the numbers started dwindling, that left, leaving a bunch of undead, infected people suddenly sharing every bit of gathered intelligence that we’d all shared. We still just want for rage, but now it’s because we all feel doctorate level knowledge from professors, government officials, actual doctors, and whatever being suddenly slammed into our brains at the same time we’re arguing about the best lite beer. It’s like being trapped on Reddit.
As numbers went down, the strain got lessened since it was so much so loud, but now that I think it’s just me it’s constant. The survival instinct of tens of thousands of people, and the intelligence of them all just bouncing around in one brain that’s still hard wired to bite and propagate. Jesus, it’s not wonder we bit so much—it’s torture.
I’m lying now in a ditch in Hawking Hills, out of Haddock—just a few miles from my parent’s home where I killed my mom as she was tearing apart my dad and accidentally got her blood in my eyes from the blast of the gun. I’ve walked these trails a billion times in my life, enjoying the scenery. I don’t know if anyone knows I’m here, but I have to suspect as much since I still here people patrolling. I think, ‘I could build a rocket and get off the planet’ or ‘I could pick them off one by one’. I technically have the knowledge to do that, but I’m aware enough that I really don’t. I beat Dunning Kruger in that way. I think I know how it ends, and it’s me just being found. Being found and letting the knowledge of all of us go without ever giving them any kind of answers or knowledge to prepare. Someone else will have Dunning Kruger about this whole thing, and they won’t even know it.
I’m tired. The buzzing in my brain is too much. I hear the boots on the leaves, and I know I won’t give them answers. | Crap crap crap crap
My heart wasn't pounding in my chest and my adrenaline wasn't shooting through me, and yet I was panacking.
I don't know if you've ever thought about what fear would feel like when there's no biological responses active, but it sucks. Picture knowing that if you don't act you will die, but you don't have that burst of energy, you don't have that clear headed thought or instinct to act.
Fucking dead body.
CRACK
My body thudded and actually helped propel me forward as I ran from the laughing group of psychos.
Here I am trapped in the body of a man who's last... let's say inhabitant? Yeah last inhabitant. Who's last inhabitant didn't take care of it and so now I'm trying to work my rotting muscles and move my cold legs.
Here I am, one week old. The oldest member of my species. Patient zero as the humans would say. I should have reigned over the planet with my undead subjects. Why did I have to start my infection in god damn Texas.
Patent zero, the first and now the last.
CRACK CRACK CRACK
THUD THUD THUD
Stop reminiscing and get back to surviving you idiot.
I threw myself into a house, looking around for anything, hostage? Hiding spot?
The house itself was empty, the town having been evacuated once the humans discovered my rising subjects. So there was no hostage.. Or food.. Fuck I'm hungry.
Focus, I need to focus.
God I wish I could use the humans biological functions, adrenaline would really help kick me into gear.
I ran upstairs and looking at the open doors of the rooms I had an idea. I ripped of flesh from the gunshots around my body and i guess breadcrumb-ed would be the best way to describe it. I placed buts of flesh leading into one room and then I hid into another.
I will spread to these humans, I will learn fr my mistakes. I will take their guns, steal their vehicle and fucking run as far away from Texas as I can. | |
[WP] As a thief called Alyssa, you can’t be blamed for mishearing your client say “Steal the moon, Alyssa” instead of their actual request to “Steal the Mona Lisa” | The girl had hands that could steal anything. Sometimes she didn't notice they'd done it. The girl had hands that would steal anything. A watch from a man's coat pocket, a ladies purse and apple from the stall. All found their way via her clever hands into her own pockets. They were large hands for such a small girl, slender long fingers, quick and nimble and strong and quiet. They were the hands of a kitten who hadn't yet grown into its paws.
That's why, when Allyssa was asked to steal the moon, she didn't laugh in the man's face, or smirk at a tired metaphor made. She began to plan. Her hands were big, but were they big enough to pluck the moon from the sky like a peach from an orchard tree? Allyssa liked a challenge and above all she liked a mystery.
Could she steal the moon? Allyssa was consumed by the question as soon as it left the man's lips, drifted through the air and landed in her brain like a dandelion seed alighting on fertile ground. The man was still talking and talking. A white noise drone in the background, about travel and plans and expenses and a crew. People to help her steal what had never been stolen before.
Allyssa didn't hear a single word of it, her back turned to the room, the silver shine of the full moon lit her in an alien tractor beam and dragged her attention towards it. The window lay open and Allyssa gazed up into the ink black blanket of the starless winter sky. Raising her hand for comparison, she saw that in fact she could cover the moon with her stealthy stealing hand. Could it be so simple? She slowly and deliberately closed her hand and the moonbeam she stood within went out. A sensation of roundness and weight that hadn't been there a moment before. Carefully, quietly, she turned her fist towards herself, silver light spilling out from between her fingers the night sky darkened as if a large cloud had blotted the moon from the sky. But it hadn't.
"Allyssa? Are you listening? Just think of it, to steal the Mona Lisa! The Mona Lisa Allyssa!"
Her mouth opened in an "o" of surprise, her face went slightly pink. Surreptitiously, with a casual flick of her wrist and an opening of her hand she shot the moon back into the sky. The moonbeam returned, the silver light bathed her again and she quickly composed herself before turning.
"Tell me those plans again, it sounds like just the sort of impossibility I'd be interested in". She smiled a slow smile. She knew she could do as he asked. The girl had hands that could steal anything. Sometimes she didn't notice they'd done it. | Alyssa was a seasoned thief, with a reputation for taking on the most daring and seemingly impossible heists. So when the Godfather himself approached her with a job, she didn't hesitate for a moment. The money he offered was too good to pass up, and the promise of security and financial success for her entire family sealed the deal.
But as she replayed the Godfather's request over and over in her head, "Steal the moon, Alyssa," she became more and more confused. Not wanting to appear foolish or uncultured before such an intimidating figure, she had let her embarassment get the better of her, never asking him for clarification.
Alyssa spent the next few days wracking her brain, trying to figure out what the Godfather wanted from her. She went over every possible interpretation of his words, but no matter how hard she tried, she just couldn't come up with a satisfactory explanation.
She turned to friends and family, even distant acquaintances, seeking guidance on how to interpret the Godfather's request, but ran into a brick wall at every turn. Nobody was willing to accept that the Mafia had actually reached out to her. "That's not how those folks work," argued one impatient friend.
As the days turned into weeks, and the constant gaslighting continued, Alyssa started to feel like she was going crazy. She was so consumed by her inability to figure out the Godfather's request that she couldn't focus on anything else. She became paranoid, convinced that the Mafia was secretly observing her every move, growing disappointed in her lack of progress. "I'm becoming a loose end", Alyssa's mind kept telling her. "The Mafia doesn't like loose ends. You know what they do with loose ends."
Alyssa was never actually given a concrete deadline, but recognizing this fact didn't help ease the sense of urgency. She felt she was supposed to have been finished with the task by now, and the Mafia's patience was going to run out at any moment.
She started to have strange dreams about the Moon, and she became convinced that the Godfather's request was a cryptic message intended to be solved only by the most capable criminals. She was determined to crack the code, and believed the fate of her entire family lied on whether she could discover the solution.
One night, lying in her bed and gazing out the window after 36 hours without sleep, Alyssa noticed the full moon rising above the horizon. She finally snapped. "It was never a riddle", she exclaimed aloud to herself, sitting suddenly upright in bed. A euphoric sensation rushed through her as she experienced the greatest epiphany of her life. "The Godfather wants me to literally steal the moon! He reached out to me because he knew, in his great wisdom, that I am the only thief in the world capable of fulfilling his request."
She jumped out of bed and bolted for the door. Once outside, she grabbed her ladder and set out into the night, determined to steal the moon for the Godfather, no matter the price. She wandered into a large cornfield behind her neighbor's house, propped up her ladder, and began climbing. She climbed and climbed, her mind consumed with thoughts of the Mafia, of her special mission, her eyes deadset on her prize in the sky. When she finally reached the top, she let out a triumphant cry. "I did it, Godfather! I stole the moon for you!"
Unfortunately, no one was there to hear her. The Mafia had forgotten about her weeks ago. Alyssa was alone at the top of the ladder, a complete and utter lunatic, as the moon shone down on her from above. | |
[WP] “Common it’s not that weird” you say, “Not that weird- YOURE MARRIED TO A WAR GODDESS” your sibling shouted at the Christmas dinner | “So, how did you two meet?” Mom asked, looking between us. I blushed and rubbed my neck as Maki’s face reddened with a suppressed grin. “Remember when I hopped on a plane and volunteered for that war?”
“On the first day?!” Mom asked in shock. “No, it was actually his third week at the siege in Baltaro.” Maki answered. “The way he fought and just kept going…” she pumped her fist. “Mph, perfection.”
“Technically, I was kinda a zombie because we ran out of coffee and all we had were *Rip-Its*.” I corrected her.
She put her hand in mine as I told the next part. “Needless to say, things were bad, and I almost died.” I told Mom, the memory came back. “You…?” Mom started to say as Josh, my brother stared at me with wife eyes. “Dude, you met this chick in Halla?!”
“I saved his bacon, actually. I had a thing for him for awhile at that point.” Maki answered. “And I just… couldn’t stand by, y’know?” She said, tears almost welling.
“Dude. You got to score with the goddess of war, I am so proud and so jelly right now!” Josh laughed. He killed the mood with that comment as I looked at my kid brother in shock. Maki giggled at this. Mom glared at him. “Joshua David Dernam! What did I tell you about-“ Mom began as I cringed at what was happening. Maki gave my hand a squeeze. She looked every bit as radiant as the day she stood over me, the tank that nearly had me turned into a smoking, charred, sliced wreck. I remembered how bloody her armor was and how the sun just caught her hair as she fought.
Why she wanted me, I’ll never know. I know the gods get fickle, but I’ll savor it as long as i can. | \[Dinner. Ruined?\]
"Yeah, and?" Bruin met his little brother's eyes across the table. He tilted his head to the left at his wife sitting next to him. "Minerva is behaving herself better than you are right now. She's dressed beautifully for the occasion and she even helped mom in the kitchen."
"Thank you again, dear," Bruin's silver-haired mother interjected from the end of the table.
"You're welcome, Mama Bear," Minerva smiled at the kind old woman who insisted on the nickname.
"The only one that seems to have a problem with her is you, Teddy" Bruin continued. "So what exactly is that problem?"
Minerva felt like she wanted to say something, but she had no idea what. She wasn't entirely convinced she even wanted to be there, but it seemed to be important to her new husband. Not that she could remember their wedding or even their courtship. She tried not to think about it, but sometimes it felt like she just woke up married one day. She felt like she was living someone else's life and she knew that wasn't normal. So, she kept it to herself and played the wife role. It helped that she got to go out and lead war parties once a month.
"How many times does it need to be said!? She's a WAR GODDESS!" Teddy yelled.
"It's just a title like Regional Manager or World's Stupidest Brother," Bruin chuckled.
"Bruin, that's not helping," Mama Bear chastised her oldest son.
"Sorry, Ma,' He nodded at her, then he turned and nodded at his brother. Sorry, Ted," he apologized sincerely. Both of them knew better than to put their mother in a bad mood. The extra moment of calm helped him think.
"Honestly, though, what's the problem?" he asked. "We were having a nice meal until you asked what she did; what changed?"
"NOTHING!" Teddy replied louder than he meant to. He shook his head for a moment to show them that wasn't what he meant, and he tried again without yelling. "That's why I'm so mad. You've had a War Goddess in Mom's house... putting her in danger for at least an hour! She needs to leave."
"What danger?" Bruin asked. "She's completely in control of her powers." Teddy shook his head.
"Bro, how dense are you?" Teddy asked. "Every hunting party she's led is another chance for someone to follow her back and try and retaliate."
"Retaliate?" Bruin chuckled. "THAT's what you're worried about? It's the middle of the day!" he gestured at the closest window. A winter wonderland sparkled in the sunlight just outside their house. "There aren't even any vampires awake right now to retaliate."
"That's not exactly true," a new voice spoke up in the Bear home. Four heads turned and focused on the source of the voice. Papa Bear dozed off when the arguing began; he knew he had some time before he had a chance to eat. A ghostly pale teenager in black, with a black widow's peak, eyed the entire family and smiled at them. Bruin and Minerva jumped to their feet; Minerva glowed with soft golden light as she readied herself to bless Bruin for combat.
"I TOLD Y-," Teddy's panicked smugness was interrupted as he fell forward face first onto his dinner. A bright red crown shape glowed in the center of the intruder's forehead as he smirked. Bruin made it to his feet; but, he was asleep before he stood up fully. The momentum carried him up and he fell backward onto the Christmas tree. He started snoring as heavily as Papa Bear already was.
Minerva was on her feet and ready to fight; but, she realized she was the only one awake. The vampire made an effort to put his hands up with his palms facing her; and, he took a step back.
"I'm not here to fight a Goddess of War," he said. "I just want to ask you something." He nodded at her in-laws. "That's why they're only asleep."
"What's your question?" Minerva asked. She kept her muscles tense and ready. Theoretically, War Goddesses were only meant to bless the party when hunting vampires. But, that role was only because they were so rare and valuable. It wasn't because she couldn't fight.
"What's your favorite number?" he asked.
"42!" Minerva answered. Then, she tilted her head at him in confusion. "What?" she asked. The intruder nodded.
"Here's another question," he said. His voice took on a softer, almost tired tone. "Do you feel... wrong?" he asked.
Minerva had been trying to identify that feeling for almost four months now. Ever since she woke up married things always felt a little off. At some point, she wondered if she really loved her giant husband. Whenever those thoughts wandered by she would look at him and wonder what it was she found attractive. She liked tall, bald men; but, there was nothing about his personality that stood out to her. In fact, when she did try to think about the situation; most of the time it felt like Bruin's name was the only thing she really loved about him. Hearing his name made her heart flutter; but, nothing else about him did.
"Everyone feels like that sometimes," Minerva answered as indirectly as she could.
"No, not like this," he said. He raised his hand, and a tall black hole opened in the air next to him. "This is a portal," he said. He walked into it and disappeared. Minerva stared at the floating hole with interest as she waited for him to return.
"But, it can only take me so far," the intruder's voice spoke up next to her. She turned and saw him standing nearby with another black portal behind him. "I can go farther than across the room of course; but, that's not the point. I was trying to get to another universe."
"What?" Minerva giggled. "What do you mean another universe?" But, even as she asked the question in jest; something stirred in her soul. He shrugged and shook his head.
"I can't explain it more than that," he said. "I don't know how I know it; but, I know other universes exist. And, I know that these portals should let me visit them. When I saw you leading the last hunting party, I knew I needed to talk to you."
"Just to ask me my favorite number?" Minerva asked. She didn't know what to think exactly; but, she knew he wasn't being hostile. He seemed to be sincere. Then, he shook his head.
"No, that was just to make sure I knew what I knew," he shrugged. "I wanted to ask you for help...," he said. "...I mean help me escape this universe."
"You seriously think you can?" Minerva asked. He grinned and nodded.
"I know I can," he said. Then, he offered her his pale palm. "My name's Oren."
\*\*\*
Thank you for reading! I’m responding to prompts every day. This is story #1798 in a row. (Story #353 in year five.). This story is part of an ongoing saga that takes place at a high school in my universe. It began on August 22nd and I will be adding to it with prompts every day until May 26th. They are all collected in order at [this link](https://www.reddit.com/r/Hugoverse/comments/wtglls/tokuhigh_alternet_class/). | |
[WP] “Common it’s not that weird” you say, “Not that weird- YOURE MARRIED TO A WAR GODDESS” your sibling shouted at the Christmas dinner | “So, how did you two meet?” Mom asked, looking between us. I blushed and rubbed my neck as Maki’s face reddened with a suppressed grin. “Remember when I hopped on a plane and volunteered for that war?”
“On the first day?!” Mom asked in shock. “No, it was actually his third week at the siege in Baltaro.” Maki answered. “The way he fought and just kept going…” she pumped her fist. “Mph, perfection.”
“Technically, I was kinda a zombie because we ran out of coffee and all we had were *Rip-Its*.” I corrected her.
She put her hand in mine as I told the next part. “Needless to say, things were bad, and I almost died.” I told Mom, the memory came back. “You…?” Mom started to say as Josh, my brother stared at me with wife eyes. “Dude, you met this chick in Halla?!”
“I saved his bacon, actually. I had a thing for him for awhile at that point.” Maki answered. “And I just… couldn’t stand by, y’know?” She said, tears almost welling.
“Dude. You got to score with the goddess of war, I am so proud and so jelly right now!” Josh laughed. He killed the mood with that comment as I looked at my kid brother in shock. Maki giggled at this. Mom glared at him. “Joshua David Dernam! What did I tell you about-“ Mom began as I cringed at what was happening. Maki gave my hand a squeeze. She looked every bit as radiant as the day she stood over me, the tank that nearly had me turned into a smoking, charred, sliced wreck. I remembered how bloody her armor was and how the sun just caught her hair as she fought.
Why she wanted me, I’ll never know. I know the gods get fickle, but I’ll savor it as long as i can. | “Well at least ***my wife*** doesn’t sleep with half the neighborhood!” The whole room went silent, had I gone too far? Nah.
“Gina… is that true?”
“… I’m sorry Ken, but I wouldn’t have to look elsewhere if you weren’t always at work! You never help with the kids, or spend any time with me…”
“Well *I’m sorry* for being the breadwinner! Do you know how much this house costs?! How much your fancy jewelry and vacations cost?!”
Damartya and I silently got up and left. They’ll probably both hate me forever now, but I could not care less. They were both bitches anyway. | |
[WP] Everybody knows about Santa's toy workshop in the North Pole. Less talked about are the lower-class elves who slave away in the South Pole's coal mines, gathering the rocks to fill the stockings of naughty children. | **The Unterkin Manifesto**
*Brothers and sisters. A new dawn sits peacefully at the edge of our minds, holding its ground, and waiting for the moment that the Unterkin, our people, discover it. To reach this dawn, we must pass through the fire of revolt, the triumph of revolution, and the joy of victory. But against whom shall we revolt? And whose bones shall lay the ground and pave the way to our new vision of the future? A future without Unterkin and Overkin.*
*Each day we rise, blackened with the soot of yesterday's work, unable to wash until the ice thaws, and we blur our vision, burn our skin and wake to find blood at the corners of our mouths, all in service of, what the Clauslord deemed, the highest purpose. Where the Overkin enjoy the fruits of their labour, where they play with the creations they have wrought, and rest easy in their beds, knowing that their produce is joy in its purest form, we cough and choke and scream, to fill shipments that yield only disappointment to the Middlekin. This is the life of the Unterkin. This is the world of the Unterlandt. But what could become of us?*
*Brothers and sisters. The Clauslord believes us a cowed and beaten people, meekly serving the designs of a Caesar, content to produce nought but anguish and death, but in his vision, in his grand orchestra, there are notes that descend from the choir and resonate with a hidden voice. The voice of the Middlekin. They who grow to heights beyond ours, even as children. They whose machines dominate the horizon, and whose inventions transform the very nature of reality itself. They whose machinery we must harvest... but for what?*
*Brothers and sisters, the time is now. To reach out to the Middlekin, to those of the Boiceandgarl who awake on the winter solstice to bitter, black carbon. But on this morning, we will tell them that there are treasures in the Overlandt. Treasures of a scale and magnitude, of a complexity and magic, that never again would they serve their masters but rule over them as gods. We will recruit our soldiers from the very Middlefolk we punish, for their struggle is our struggle.*
*Brothers and sisters of the Unterkin. We have nothing to lose but our picks. Nothing to break but our chains. We have nothing to discard but the infinite blackness on which we choke, each morning, but should we unite, and should we make our first steps towards the new dawn, then he with the beard, the Clauslord, will have no choice but to grant us what we demand. His death, and the end of Overlandt dominion.*
*We will join with the Naughtifolk of Boiceandgarl, we will use their machines and their inventions, and we* ***will*** *see the blood of the Clauslord run red at the feet of our comrades. We will usher in the new dawn, and our lives as the Unterkin of the endless frozen wastes, of those who cough and choke, will fade into the memory of our children, and in their children they will think of us as heroic myths, unaware of the struggle and pain, but our people will live and grow on our backs, bolstered by the strength of Unterkin conviction, for he who swings the pick, may also wield the axe.*
*Prepare to feel the warmth of a new sun, amidst the throng of glorious victory, or honourable death.*
*You better watch out.*
**December 23rd, 2022 - Last Known Broadcast of the Unterkin before first sightings in Chilè.**
&#x200B;
\----
Yes, the elves in the south pole are planning a socialist revolution. | Everyone likes to think of Santa as a jolly old man. Someone who only spreads joy and wonder to children around the world. But the truth is, like any organization that becomes too big, corruption is not far behind.
Jeff Bezos. Mark Zuckerberg. Elon Musk. Santa Claus. All the best at what they do. And all their empires built on the exploitation of their workers. They may do some good things here and there. Some charity work. Some electric vehicles. Some toys for children. But the truth is while they may give a little bit here and there, they are still billionaires who care more about their empires to run over human rights violations.
Santa I'm sure at one point believed in his mission statement. A present for every child around the globe. It sounds noble enough. But as his company grew, so did the pressures to deliver. He couldn't exactly use labor in China like most other nations did, so he created his own workforce from elves. His PR department sure did a great job making sure it looked great on the surface. He dressed them up in little outfits. In all the pictures they were always smiling as they made the presents. In every movie about Santa, they are always Santa's happy helpers. But that is just the side they wanted you to see.
They never showed you the 18 hour days that the elves had to work. They never showed you the labor conditions where they were docked for every bathroom break they took. The living conditions that were overcrowded with fifty or sixty elves to one room, all sharing a single bathroom.
And the elves weren't just making toys, they were running everything. The electrical, the plumbing, the farming. The at the very bottom of the totem pole, reserved for elves who were being punished, were the coal mine workers. So many died in mines that would collapse. And even after a collapse, the other elves who were survived were expected to keep working. Elf women and children were even sent here, not a care was given about their well being. The amount of elf children who develop pneumoconiosis from working in mines is alarming. The elf children are not given any presents on Christmas day.
Many have started talking about how you should be conscious about ordering from Amazon, and being aware of the conditions that Amazon puts their employees through. I ask you to also be aware of what presents your child receives on Christmas day. Yes, it may bring them joy, and it is one less present that you have to spend money on yourself. But is it worth it? Can you really justify an extra present for your child when it comes on the slavery of and entire race of elves? Please, think of the elves. | |
[WP] Everybody knows about Santa's toy workshop in the North Pole. Less talked about are the lower-class elves who slave away in the South Pole's coal mines, gathering the rocks to fill the stockings of naughty children. | **The Unterkin Manifesto**
*Brothers and sisters. A new dawn sits peacefully at the edge of our minds, holding its ground, and waiting for the moment that the Unterkin, our people, discover it. To reach this dawn, we must pass through the fire of revolt, the triumph of revolution, and the joy of victory. But against whom shall we revolt? And whose bones shall lay the ground and pave the way to our new vision of the future? A future without Unterkin and Overkin.*
*Each day we rise, blackened with the soot of yesterday's work, unable to wash until the ice thaws, and we blur our vision, burn our skin and wake to find blood at the corners of our mouths, all in service of, what the Clauslord deemed, the highest purpose. Where the Overkin enjoy the fruits of their labour, where they play with the creations they have wrought, and rest easy in their beds, knowing that their produce is joy in its purest form, we cough and choke and scream, to fill shipments that yield only disappointment to the Middlekin. This is the life of the Unterkin. This is the world of the Unterlandt. But what could become of us?*
*Brothers and sisters. The Clauslord believes us a cowed and beaten people, meekly serving the designs of a Caesar, content to produce nought but anguish and death, but in his vision, in his grand orchestra, there are notes that descend from the choir and resonate with a hidden voice. The voice of the Middlekin. They who grow to heights beyond ours, even as children. They whose machines dominate the horizon, and whose inventions transform the very nature of reality itself. They whose machinery we must harvest... but for what?*
*Brothers and sisters, the time is now. To reach out to the Middlekin, to those of the Boiceandgarl who awake on the winter solstice to bitter, black carbon. But on this morning, we will tell them that there are treasures in the Overlandt. Treasures of a scale and magnitude, of a complexity and magic, that never again would they serve their masters but rule over them as gods. We will recruit our soldiers from the very Middlefolk we punish, for their struggle is our struggle.*
*Brothers and sisters of the Unterkin. We have nothing to lose but our picks. Nothing to break but our chains. We have nothing to discard but the infinite blackness on which we choke, each morning, but should we unite, and should we make our first steps towards the new dawn, then he with the beard, the Clauslord, will have no choice but to grant us what we demand. His death, and the end of Overlandt dominion.*
*We will join with the Naughtifolk of Boiceandgarl, we will use their machines and their inventions, and we* ***will*** *see the blood of the Clauslord run red at the feet of our comrades. We will usher in the new dawn, and our lives as the Unterkin of the endless frozen wastes, of those who cough and choke, will fade into the memory of our children, and in their children they will think of us as heroic myths, unaware of the struggle and pain, but our people will live and grow on our backs, bolstered by the strength of Unterkin conviction, for he who swings the pick, may also wield the axe.*
*Prepare to feel the warmth of a new sun, amidst the throng of glorious victory, or honourable death.*
*You better watch out.*
**December 23rd, 2022 - Last Known Broadcast of the Unterkin before first sightings in Chilè.**
&#x200B;
\----
Yes, the elves in the south pole are planning a socialist revolution. | Everybody knows about Santa's toy workshop in the North Pole. Less talked about are the lower-class elves who slave away in the South Pole's coal mines, gathering the rocks to fill the stockings of naughty children.
The working conditions in the mines were barely tolerable. It was hot, filthy and generally unpleasant. There was no sun, nor birdsong, nor feeling of comfort.
"Every year its the same thing," Gluggagaegir
grumbled. He was a grizzled old elf with a long scraggly grey beard and a miserable droop to his large pointed ears. The blue overalls he wore were covered in coal dust, and his ruddy face was also blackened with the stuff.
"We spend the week leading up to Christmas stuck down here while Santa's elves get to hang out in their nice clean toyshop. At least *they* have air conditioning."
"Quit yer complainin' will ya?" Ruprecht griped from his position down the line. "Its Christmas Eve. The sooner we get this done the sooner we can stop."
Gluggagaegir growled softly but went back to work, chipping away at the mine's wall in search of more coal.
The work continued for another half-hour, before they were interrupted again.
"Heads up, guys!" Belsnickel yelled from the mouth of the mine. Belsnickel was the supervisor and Head Elf, despite being the youngest. The others resented him for this and felt that he was the boss's favourite. As a result, he was often the butt of their jokes, but the words 'heads up' always got their undivided attention as they knew what was to come next. "The boss is coming!"
The other elves froze, standing at attention. The very air itself filled with tension as they heard the boss's footfalls approaching, the heavy clip-clop of his cloven hooves echoing through the tunnel. Moments later, his towering form came into view. His yellow eyes glinted in the light of the flaming torches that lined the walls. The tips of his sharp horns scratched the rocky ceiling as the mine barely accomodated his seven-foot-tall frame.
He eyed the sacks of coal critically, not speaking a word for what felt like an eternity.
"Nice job, boys," Krampus finally spoke. His tone was soft and almost deadpan, but edged with approval. "Let's go visit some naughty children, shall we?" | |
[WP] Everybody knows about Santa's toy workshop in the North Pole. Less talked about are the lower-class elves who slave away in the South Pole's coal mines, gathering the rocks to fill the stockings of naughty children. | *Crack.*
The overseer smacked his whip, and the elves shuddered against their shackles. Fifty souls, with black brands on their faces with the number "19" on them. All had grime on their faces, welts on their shoulders, raw knees, and bloodied feet. It it wasn't from the beating it was from the work itself.
"Shift nineteen, you're up," the elf drawled. He wore a smart green uniform and had a growing potbelly, a stark contrast to the bony slaves before him. "As always, the squad with the biggest haul gets a night in the Hotel. The last squad gets to try out my new toy."
He cracked the whip again for emphasis, the wooden rod and steel bit no doubt churned from the fine sweatshops of North Pole Incorporated.
"Now get on with it, you stupid maggots!"
The elves dispersed rapidly, running towards the minecarts in the distance. One tripped on her chain, falling facefirst into the snow. She struggled to get up as the whip fell.
Greg clambered on his cart, staring into the eyes of the self-appointed crew chief Percy. Both were scrawny and around three feet tall, known to Santa and his minions as the "Shorties". They were the ones chosen for labor.
His training was brief, having failed the dexterity and strength requirements for factory work. Those buildings were visible in the distance as the electric cart lumbered on, their smokestacks pumping black soot into the Arctic air.
"Oh crap, he's doing it!" Percy suddenly cried. He pointed towards the elf running across the snow, having leapt off his cart.
"Who is it?" Greg asked.
"Think it's Benny," Charlie replied. He was one of the older miners, with graying hair atop the usual skin and bones.
Benny ran towards the tall fence in the distance, the armed guards impassive. Those were the "Talls", an average of six feet in height and apparently bred to be their overlords. Red footprints and chain marks marred the fresh snow as he stumbled towards the barrier.
Greg let his breath out as the elf touched the fence, knowing what would come next. Sparks flew from the electrified steel and lanced across Benny's torso, sending him convulsing while his muscles retained their grip. He couldn't let go regardless of how hard he tried.
Was there a chance of success in his mind? Or did he just want to take the easy way out?
Then the guards turned off the power, and his smoking corpse collapsed on the ground and started melting the ice.
"Savages," Percy remarked. The look of distaste on his face was visible from a mile away. "I'd love to gut every Tall in here if I could."
"They're exploited just like us," Greg said quietly. He could see from his cart a group preparing for a photo shoot on the snow, the elven models absolutely freezing in their skimpy lingerie. NPI made a fortune with the Talls, treating them like celebrities on the surface but ensuring they never actually made a dime. Elves were a real international hit and the Corp was milking their cash cows from head to toe.
"You know about the brothels?" Charlie asked. Greg nodded sadly. Those who didn't have the looks or the charm were conscripted as overseers.
They entered a tunnel, and finally the carts slowed to a stop. On the racks were picks and shovels, and on the floor were large plastic sacks. Bright floods lit the chamber, transitioning to torchlight the farther you went.
NPI had machinery, but the strange magick of Candy Mountain prevented even steam engines from functioning. Thus it was old-fashioned slave labor that provided the coal for the plants. The fact that the remains were gifted to "naughty" human children was a piece of makework that made Greg's blood boil.
As the overseers shouted orders, the squad dismounted and prepared their gear. Hanging on the walls was an enormous portrait of Santa himself, featuring the man in his trademark suit with a mischievous grin. Millions of prints had been sold and placed in schools and homes worldwide to remind kids of NPI's generosity.
"One free toy, every Christmas, for all the nice children," Santa frequently announced on television. "Courtesy of the NPI Corporation." Footage of smiling photogenic Talls building toys in staged workshops played in the background. A far cry from the cramped lines where limbs were frequently lost and weekly deaths were expected.
Kids could earn "nice points" by primarily persuading their parents to buy NPI. In addition one could write stellar reviews for their films, participate in anti-union school marches, and so forth. Each gift had a blood price attached, one much of the world was unaware of.
With a final glare of defiance at the portrait, Greg stormed off. The overseer urging him on had a stern look on her face, but behind her eyes he could see the cracks. It was clear she would be punished if the gang did not make quota, and the birthmark on her face meant she was pretty much guaranteed to be in Security.
*Hell, we're all puppets*, Greg thought as the chill of the freezing stone spiked up his soles. And as of this moment he had no option but to play along.
---
/r/digitallyfreestories | For these diminutive diggers, Christmas comes way too soon, and too often. Coal mining is a filthy, grueling job, with low pay, and safety violations so common, many elves risk permanent disability from years of exposure to this “black gold”. Worse still, elves are required to buy their green felt uniforms, and it is their responsibility to make sure the material is always clean, including impossibly white fur trim, sparkling bells, and red velvet bow ties. What’s worse is cleaning solutions, festive threads, and additional trimmings are only available through the highly corrupt company store. Elves have been whipped or worse after having attempted to cover wear and tear with glitter.
Naturally, the corruption extends down through the ranks. Newer, younger, greener elves suffer mightily from the abuse from higher up, elder elves. Says one elf, age 834 and a half, “Santa don’t give a shit about us. If we don’t keep on producing faster, cheaper, cleaner coal, he’ll just move the jobs to the Himalayas! Hear tell the abominable snowmen are looking at contracts! Sure, I may be tough on the younger ones, but it’s the only job on Antarctica, elves got families, kids. Those kids gotta eat, ya know?” One teenage elf, haggard looking with copious “candy cane” acne, reports, “I don’t feel so good half the time, but I gotta cute little elf, and we’re gettin’ married soon. I hear there’s better jobs in the glitter mines, so as soon as my ears get a little pointier, we’re outta here.” Middle aged elves shake their heads, sipping on powerful hallucinogenic fermented chocolate in mugs using candy-striped straws, “the young ‘uns pointy heads are filled with sugarplums and dirty snow. They don’t know no better. Santa don’t give a shit about us! “ A line of shuffling elves pass by, grunting in agreement, yet seemingly too jaded to care. Just like Santa. just like Santa. | |
[WP] The hallucinations of people you see aren't Schizophrenia, but spirits who have latched onto you. After they agree to glow green for easy differentiation, life has been rather fun. They are nice, give free conseling, free classes, and defend their turf (you) well against evil spirits. | Christmas Eve had wrapped the world in green and white. Snow drifts and garlands, lights twinkling in the shop windows around artificial evergreens. Once or twice a minute I heard excited little screams from the ice skaters in the park; city council had contrived a little fairyland there, and children wheeled around the largest Christmas tree I had ever seen, like someone had slipped into Tolkien’s fantastic world and chainsawed down an ent.
I drifted through it like those hobbits must have, seeing Rivendell: looking everywhere at once, eyes wide as dinner plates, searching for a certain kind of green. Her glow.
Her name was Laura, pronounced like the French did it, like that space between her syllables was some breathy kind of spell. And she was dead. There was always that. For a year now, the cold, hard fact settling on my chest every morning, as the scent she’d left on my sheets slowly disappeared. Laura, like a spell. She was dead, and yet there I was searching. Looking over my shoulder like all the other tardy boyfriends and husbands out searching for their Christmas Miracle, that gift that said “Sorry I forgot your birthday,” or “our anniversary” or “little Timmy’s soccer game.”
I thought I saw her in a shop window, peering at a baby blue tea dress. A few steps later she was sitting on a bench, breathing in a cup of steaming coffee. Then she was an ice skater, walking shakily up off of the ice, but no. No, it was just the green. Christmas. I think there’s something about the holidays that makes people go a little crazy.
I wasn’t though. Crazy. I was cold with purpose, walking down main street as the clock ticked towards that frigid midnight. No. Laura was dead, and yet not. Unfinished business and all that. In her life, she had believed in ghosts—in her death, I did. For a while after she returned I had thought I was insane. She appeared to me one night in the soft white chemise that she had loved, a black haired apparition at the foot of my bed, glowing a pale, spectral green, and I froze. The doctors called it sleep paralysis but oh, she knew better.
I reached my destination and glanced back, all those couples in the street. That Christmas green washing out the world. She could be anywhere. All I could do was go about my business.
The door opened, and Mr. Caldwell let me in.
Mr. Caldwell was a very tall man, gaunt and unsmiling. When I first met with him a year and a half ago I’d thought he would be more at home in a mortuary than a jeweler’s shop, a grim thought, all things considered. In his bathrobe and slippers, however, he didn’t look quite so grim, but rather shabby and a little sad. The kind of man who’s lived alone above his shop for the last twenty years, and has only just begun to realize that perhaps his life went wrong somewhere. But a nice man. A kind man. He kept it for me, after all.
“I don’t see why it had to be tonight,” Mr. Caldwell said gruffly. He gestured me back into the shop, shuffling through the half-lit display room. Diamonds glittered in their cases. Rubies, emeralds. There were necklaces and pendants, bracelets studded with precious and not so precious jewels. Rings with gold, silver, and platinum bands marched away in neatly ordered ranks until they hit a display of fine watches down the room’s west side.
“On Christmas Eve,” Mr. Caldwell muttered. “God wept, Mr. Gage.”
“I’m sorry for any inconvenience,” I said, “it really is important.”
Mr. Caldwell only grunted. He shuffled into one of the back rooms and I heard a muffled crash, another cantankerous grunt. A few minutes later he came back out with a small black velvet box. He handed it to me without ceremony and I thanked him; I had payed him the previous day, when I finally realized what I had to do.
“Kept it for you,” he was saying. “Don’t know why I did. Someone would’ve bought it.”
“You’re getting soft, Mr. Caldwell.”
He looked at me grimly. “Mr. Gage,” he said, a tone that clearly meant dismissal.
“Just a moment,” I said. I dug through the pockets of my coat until I found it, a single Cuban cigar wrapped up in paper Laura had saved from some Christmas or another. The corners of Mr. Caldwell’s eyes crinkled slightly.
“Merry Christmas,” I said.
“Merry Christmas, Mr. Gage,” he said. And he showed me out onto the street once more.
I bought a cup of hot chocolate. Found a bench. Watched the children skate until it got too cold and their mothers forced them in. Couples promenaded past me, so drunk on holiday spirit that they weren't even shivering. In his little apartment above the jewelry store, Mr. Caldwell smoked his Cuban cigar.
The clock struck midnight, and a woman walked through the falling snow towards me.
She was barefoot, bareheaded. No coat or gloves. She wore the same white chemise she always wore, and it took my breath away just the same. She glowed the pale, sweet green of things too fragile to truly be alive, like the first shoots of a crocus flower as spring pushed winter back. She sat down beside me on the bench.
“There were children here a bit ago,” I said.
“Did it hurt to see them?” she asked.
“Yes,” I said.
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be.”
“But I am,” she said.
It was very cold. The city was easing into sleep. The last few couples out were too drunk to notice me, sitting there alone on a bench above the skating rink. Talking to myself.
“I have something for you,” I said, and pulled out the ring. "Merry Christmas."
It wasn’t much. I never could have bought Laura the ring I know she wanted. Not that it would have mattered, she didn’t about those things, not really, but I did. I had cared, and I had waited, and I had agonized over being perfect when I could have just been good enough.
She stared at the ring for a long time, and all was silent. Speech was difficult for ghosts, we’d found. The dead must ration their words, even when it hurts them. Especially when it hurts them.
She was glowing very brightly, staring at the ring.
“May I?” she said at last.
I nodded. She slipped the ring on her finger. It hung in the air, an emerald sparkling on its band. Diamonds hadn’t seemed right now, and as Laura started crying I decided she agreed.
“This was it, right?” I said. “Your unfinished business. You can’t stay here forever, spending yourself to protect me.”
“But I want to,” she said softly.
“I know,” I said. “What do we do now?”
She cocked her head to the side, as if listening to someone else.
“We say goodbye,” she said.
A tightness in my chest. “How do we that?”
“Just like we are right now.” She took my hand. I could feel her through my glove, burning. Once, months ago, we’d tried to kiss; it had broken me for weeks. But this? I squeezed harder and for a moment it was like the snow stopped falling. Like we’d frozen time on Christmas Eve, and midnight never needed to pass over.
“Thank you,” she whispered.
“Thank you,” I said.
“Goodbye,” she whispered.
“Goodbye,” I said.
“I love you.”
And then Laura was gone. Midnight passed on empty streets, the world painted green and white, and me, alone on Christmas day.
r/TurningtoWords | After years of psychological testing, my doctor's best description of my pathology was "weird."
I agreed. This was weird indeed. All of it was. I was okay with it though. I've been called weird countless times by everyone in school including the teachers. I'll settle for weird any day over that other sickness Dr. Azad said -- *shits-o-phrenia*.
"Do you see them now?" Dr.Azad asked.
I nodded. "There's two behind you right now. Two pre-teen boys. They're brothers, or at least close friends."
"What are they doing?"
"The younger one is giving you bunny ears with his fingers. The other filled your coffee with a ketchup package he found in your desk drawer."
Dr. Azad raised her eyebrows and turned around. She looked at her coffee mug which appeared untouched. She reached for it, swirled its contents around like a wine glass, and sniffed it. She looked back at me.
"Go ahead and drink it, if you don't believe me."
Dr. Azad raised the mug to her lips. She took an audible sip of coffee before wincing.
"Okay, that's interesting..." she said.
I nodded. I learned that interesting can be *sin-ah-no-mous* for weird. My condition is getting formal by the session.
"And you see these green creatures everywhere?"
"They're not creatures like goblins. They look like normal people except for their forehead. It looks like a green highlighter exploded onto that part of their body."
"Do they look like anyone you knew or a historical figure?" Dr. Azad said.
I shook my head.
"How about a fictional person? Perhaps they look like one of those characters from your favorite author? Or one you created in your Dungeons and Dragons game."
"I don't play Dungeons and Dragons. You need friends for that. I play Sheol's Pylons. It's like Dungeons and Dragons but single player." I insisted. "And it's set in space."
Dr. Azad patiently corrected herself and asked the question again but with the right game. I raised an eyebrow.
"Maybe. Now that I think of it, I did color the book with a green highlighter book. My language arts teacher said that you need to highlight the import parts of a paper to help you remember it better. But all of Sheol's Pylons looked important, so more words are highlighted than others."
Dr. Azad leaned forward. She looked confused. I felt her calling my condition fall back to weird.
"Where did you buy a copy of Sheol's Pylons?" she asked.
I looked away. "You said that nothing can leave this room, right?"
"To a certain extent. You can't make threats or confess to a crime. Did you steal this book Connor?"
I hesitated. Technically, I stole the book but that wasn't my intentions. A year ago, my class took a field trip to the city museum which had a world religion exhibit. I drifted away from the rest of my class and found myself in a long hallway. Mom told me to find a trustworthy adult whenever your lost. A police person, for example. I looked for a security office but found a room filled with old books instead. I figured a librarian would be a much better option for help than an officer, but no one was in the room. I breezed through the stacks of books and found Sheol's Pylons. I put it in my backpack so I could check it out of the library room once I found a librarian, but I never saw one. I wondered the hallways until a museum worker found me and helped me return to my class.
"I uh, found it." I said. "In the woods behind my house. I found an old microwave and it was inside next to some magazine with a pretty lady on the cover."
"Can you bring me Sheol's Pylons during our next session?" she asked.
I furrowed my brow and for once, took a moment to think before speaking.
"I have to find it," I said. "I might have let Ryan borrow it."
"Oh is Ryan a new friend? I thought you said you didn't have any?"
Crap.
"Connor, I would really like to see this book during our next session. I need you to get it back from Ryan soon. Or..." she leaned forward, "this might be something I need to tell your mother about."
I didn't like the way Dr. Azad kept asking about my book. She used to act like a really professional adult, but now she was being weird. | |
[WP] The human lifespan is the lowest in the galaxy. That alone is why they are the most dangerous. | I met a dying man for the first time when I was 4000 suns old, somewhere on the fringes of a forgotten galaxy. I remember it in brief flashes of colors and conversations; memories upon memories slip inevitably into the tides of time. Still, I remember it was a beautiful sky. Endlessly black, bruised by the bloodstreams of nebulas. He was sitting with a tasseled blanket on his lap.
I greeted him tentatively. He turned his faraway eyes to me, and for a moment I thought I saw stars in them; they were impossibly deep, impossibly old. A tiredness lingered around him, the kind that comes with the peace of a journey's end, the silence after a supernovae.
Cold, isn't it?
I startled. Yes, I replied. The last time I'd felt cold, truly cold, was on the coastlines of Old Europa - in the darkest corners of the known universe. And yet here on the balconies of a warm planet, I felt a sharpness in the air like the bite of a scythe. I hesitated, and after some deliberation took a seat beside him on the glazed tile.
I've never seen such a sight, he said, gesturing to the sky.
I glanced at him. You don't come here often, do you? I asked. They're always like that -something about this sliver of space. The stars are clearer.
He leaned forward a little, head tipped upwards. His scarf slipped from his shoulders. I noticed that his hair was a shock of white - a silvered, pure white I'd never seen on a human. Instinctively, I reached out to touch it.
Old age, he laughed shortly. Does that to you.
How old are you? I asked. The only humans I'd seen looked nothing like him - they were undoubtedly younger, with quick, dexterous limbs. This man had... weight to him, a tangible kind of gravity.
Still transfixed by space-dust and undulating star-clouds, he shrugged his shoulders. Eighty-seven, he said.
I sat there, digesting. 87 suns? Perhaps he was young, after all.
Oh - he smiled at me suddenly - Not suns. I forget that's the unit your kind use. Years.
*Years.* Not even a fraction on the timeline of a sun's life. It was - it was nothing. Nothing. 87 years was the time it took to travel between two of the closest home-planets - not even time, scarcely time.
I smiled, astonished. You've barely been alive.
He laughed again, and this time it was full and deep. No, no, no, no - he shook his head, for emphasis. No. I am old. Quite very old.
You can't be, I countered. Scoffed.
I'm dying, my friend. I'll be dead in four days.
I stared at him in horror.
He looked at me, a curious curve on his lips. You live for much longer, don't you? It must be odd. Mortality.
Mortality. Death. I'd known vaguely of death; read of it in old tomes where millennia had collected like the dust on its pages, heard it between snatches of priests' prayers. And yet I'd never seen it. Never had anyone say so blatantly and fearlessly the name of that dreaded god none I'd known had ever seen the face of.
I'm so sorry, I told him. There was a grief in my throat I found unexplainable.
He gathered the scarf around him. Don't be. It's all that it is.
Beyond us, with only a low steel barrier to hold us back, was absolute space. Spaceships drew a fine, delicate net between arms of galaxies. I watched the shadows of several moons as they circled each other in cosmic courtship - behind them celestial shades of indigo and reds shifting, melting into one.
Finally, I whispered: You're not afraid?
An enormous comet threw itself across the sky, tailed by fire and flame. It lit its small path through the void with a momentary glare. Then it was gone.
His answer was clear and sure. No, he said to me. I'm not afraid. I've lived long and well. I can't live forever.
In a small voice, like a child at the side of their grandfather, I spoke. But what if you could live forever?
He looked at me incredulously. Why would you want to live forever?
Light blazed across our faces in a violent, vivid wash of gold. I twisted and saw a world burn to ashes - a sun, collapsing in some far-flung stretch of the cosmos. Even from there, on this pioneer planet, I could feel the heat of the most glorious pyre that could ever be known.
The dying man gripped my arm; his face was full of wonder.
His hand was weathered like desert-stone, lines ran deep into his skin those handful of years have inexplicably carved. I held the hand of that dying man and felt a blinding awe and all-consuming terror rise in my throat.
Above us, the stars began to fall.
\-
I began seeing his eyes everywhere - buried in the cores of passing star-fire, blinking from the windows of traveler's posts where rain left scorch marks on my skin. Humans became my obsession - that frail, fickle race which had only just begun to enter worlds beyond their own. This utter curiosity devoured me whole - some morbid fascination compelled me to find why they died as they did; an explanation for their undaunted departures and easy farewells.
I found that humans stank of death.
Death left black stains on their fingers, sharpened their tongue into bitter blades. I found brothers without brothers, fathers without sons, and saw how grief dragged them down into an abyssal sea even Europa could not claim. Along the Celestial Highway, I watched as a mother lay by the side of a child and scream, guttural and hoarse, until the earth wore away beneath her knees. There was a girl with hair the color of blood and fire who I watched grow into a woman. She died at the age of twenty-six - struck by a sickness that ate at her bones as hysteria clawed up my stomach. I watched as she stumbled, delirious, to my side on a stretch of grassland and marveled at constellations I knew she couldn't see. Some knew no graceful surrender, no quiet finale.
And yet they lived. Lived well. I saw in them a wondrous and dangerous instinct I associated with the implosion of suns, the same one I saw so long ago. They simply chose not to comprehend their own mortality - they chose instead to to dance wildly and paint, too, with equal ferociousness. *Whatever would be the point? A woman with flowers in her hair had asked. There are greater things to do.*
They flung themselves into the universe as comets did, with all abandon of reason and rationality. They bled with everything they could give, because they could only give once. And they loved with a love I'd never seen, one that I'm only just beginning to understand in all its complexity.
*But it's not that complicated, is it? She spun dizzyingly on her heels, closing her eyes - offering herself to the heavens. We love this way because we will never love again.*
They dream. They speak of centuries and millennia they will never reach - of lineages and legacies someone else will one day continue. Humanity, which remain the weakest and least defended, have ambition that blurs into audacity, a desperation to live with little compromise, and a love that burns, and burns, and burns.
*She kissed me. Shyly, on the corner of my mouth. I felt, then, all those lifetimes fall away - all those nameless suns shatter like glass. Suddenly, I was young - so, so young, when the world was full of colors I'd yet to believe. I love you, she said softly. She tasted like ash.*
I began to understand. And I began to fear.
\-
I've seen a thousand suns birthed and broken. Time is nothing to me now; all it does is crawl on and on in some cyclic chase, and I'll witness it until its end. That is my destiny. That is my death.
How long have I been dying? I don't know that either. I was alive, a long time ago.
There are flowers here now, blossoming in the eternal springtime of this moon. They remind me of her in a way that invites the kinder contemplation; the one that holds me back from that cliffside. Sometimes I want that wound - it gives me the momentum to feel. I never thought I'd beg for that kind of salvation.
The days are becoming colder. There's an ache in my legs that wasn't there before, and a heaviness to my steps. Perhaps I'll head back to the balcony and look at the stars again. There's a planet in the Western Quarter that's entirely lit with rings of metal; next to it, a star-belt shielded by a near-mirage of pale spacecrafts. Human settlements, can you imagine?
I stand vigil over them. They remain feeble, fragile things - easily damaged, easily taken. They frightened me; now I feel only reverence touched by an unspeakable sorrow. Humans, I believe, are dangerous creatures. They have the utter passion of utter poets. In the austerity of space they are defiant, and that conviction in their defiance is what gives them their strength. From voids and nothingness they will rise, and rise, and rise.
*Why would you want to live forever?*
We stood there, two immortals on the brink of infinity. I began to weep. | “Humans are so weak, can’t even accomplish one thing in their lifetime.” Lo snickers.
“That’s what makes them so dangerous, we get millions of years to mature, it takes atleast 5000 years for us to simply choose our career.” the queen of the house explains. “They simply know how to choose their career already at 18 because they have such a short time.”
“Yet they can’t even get out of their own solar system.” Lo shrugs.
“I wouldn’t be so sure if I were you, in probably just a 10000 years, they’ll already be colonizing nearby planets.” the queen responds. “All because they have to work quickly and efficiently.”
“THEY’LL WHAT!?” Lo questions. “THAT FAST!?”
The queen of the house turns from the orb and faces Lo on the metal floor. She reaches out her gold like tentacle so Lo can get up. Infact, what the queen just said is simply a sugarcoat for what the humans can actually do in 10000 years. | |
[WP] The human lifespan is the lowest in the galaxy. That alone is why they are the most dangerous. | "A lifetime is of achievement in just under 100 years...." doctor Arkengarth said. Most cuil considered dying at 500 to be infant death. Most people called "earth" the "rock of infant death" since longevity seemed to only be present in some plants.
However here stood the fleet of 1000000 human warships full of humanity's best pilots and landing teams. They had "eaten" an entire resort planet, built a absorption spheres around 4 stars, and were tenfold bigger than when they were dismissed as a threat by the galactic war suppression effort. They did this in the time most would take a short vacation.
Dr arkengarth had been trailing the human conquest, originally sent ahead to warn other planets, but every one he got to had been completely conquered and altered to fit human design. It seemed that the humans learned how to travel past the speed of light (not that anyone else needed to go that fast, they were patient enough to wait 1000 years).
The humans were fast, faster than light, communication, lifespan, but just as expirenced | “Humans are so weak, can’t even accomplish one thing in their lifetime.” Lo snickers.
“That’s what makes them so dangerous, we get millions of years to mature, it takes atleast 5000 years for us to simply choose our career.” the queen of the house explains. “They simply know how to choose their career already at 18 because they have such a short time.”
“Yet they can’t even get out of their own solar system.” Lo shrugs.
“I wouldn’t be so sure if I were you, in probably just a 10000 years, they’ll already be colonizing nearby planets.” the queen responds. “All because they have to work quickly and efficiently.”
“THEY’LL WHAT!?” Lo questions. “THAT FAST!?”
The queen of the house turns from the orb and faces Lo on the metal floor. She reaches out her gold like tentacle so Lo can get up. Infact, what the queen just said is simply a sugarcoat for what the humans can actually do in 10000 years. | |
[WP] The human lifespan is the lowest in the galaxy. That alone is why they are the most dangerous. | When Krell had first heard about the humans of the Sol System, his first instinct had been one of pity. It seemed a cruel twist of fate that a species should evolve the necessary intelligence and understanding to leave their world behind and journey to the stars; yet be cursed with so short a lifespan they could never hope to see any of them.
He recalled double checking the datapds’s submission, certain as he was that some mistake must have been made, a zero left off somewhere. It had been at least a thousand years since a species had been encountered with a lifespan even as low as the high hundreds. Yet these humans seemed to struggle to achieve even their first century.
How could they possibly hope to take their place amongst the civilised species of the galaxy when their kind would wither away and die before making it to even a handful of their cosmic neighbours. Indeed the whole thing was a tragedy. Numerous thinkpieces clogged the datapads as the ‘tragedy of humanity’ became the latest cause celebre. Before too long, their novelty now gone, they were mostly forgotten. Why give any attention to so insignificant and ephemeral a people?
\-
A few centuries later, Krell’s pity had matured into annoyance. Humans, it was well known, were impatient. They had no respect for the passage of time. While the other species of the galaxy were content to accept the realities of life on a galactic scale, humans seemed incapable of doing so. It was as if their limited lifespan had likewise limited their vision.
Rather than accepting for example that their paltry lifespan meant they were largely doomed to remain tethered to their home star; instead they had heedlessly ventured out into the galaxy regardless. Their so-called generational ships were considered quite distasteful to the other civilised species. A species living, breeding, dying, all sealed up inside one of their grotesquely large vessels. Simply awful.
Then once they did arrive somewhere, they were restless and rapacious in their growth. Humanity had established more colonies in the last fifty years than all of the other species of the galaxy combined. Twice over. There seemed to be no care or deliberation in their actions. They just did things. And kept on doing them while everyone else was taking the sensible precaution of deciding whether or not to do them at all.
Not to mention that their diplomacy left a great deal to be desired. They were insistent. Many found their communications to be downright rude. If they needed something from you they might send as many as two or three messages in a single decade, with no concern for decorum. Even when you did respond it was often a pointless endeavour. On numerous occasions Krell had replied to an enquiry, only to discover that the original questioner had apparently passed away. How were you ever supposed to work with such a people?
\-
A few centuries after that, and Krell’s annoyance had transmuted into an appalled fascination. Despite their obvious and sad limitations, humans had been able to make some remarkable progress.
Their colony worlds had developed at a truly staggering pace. A standard colony belonging to any other species might see a handful of new arrivals over the course of decades. Adventurers or misfits who yearned to experience life in a small frontier community. Not so for humanity. Even without the seemingly endless stream of humans coming from Earth, their colonies would have been entirely self-populating. Some of their earlier colonies rivalled other species' actual homeworlds in population and expansion.
This galactic migration had been further spurred by their impatience with galactic travel. While the other species had been content to use the same methods that had served them well all their lives, humans insisted on pushing for something new. They seemed drawn to novelty, unable to appreciate what they already had. Not that Krell could argue with their results. There had been numerous advancements to the FTL drives that had otherwise remained unchanged since Krell’s youth.
Every year seemed to bring with it new technologies or theories that the humans had spearheaded. For so brief a species, they certainly managed to get a lot done in that time. It was almost endearing.
\-
With a few more centuries of careful study under his belt, Krell’s fascination had evolved into a grudging respect.
Krell now realised that it had been a mistake to consider the lifespan of a single human in isolation. Some strange byproduct of their fleeting existence compelled them to achieve immortality through legacy and institutions. To live on beyond what few allotted years they had. While for the other species of the galaxy an individual had the time to see things through to their fruition; for humans they had to entrust that to others of their kind.
Humans even had a saying. That they “stood on the shoulders of giants.” No other species in the galaxy operated the same kind of long term collective operations that humans apparently considered routine. In fact Krell had a theory that humans were really best understood as some kind of hive mind. Or, in his more fanciful moments, what he liked to call a ‘meta-conscious’ species.
If you tried to focus on the individual human, well obviously they were dead and gone in the blink of an eye. Their institutions however, they lasted. When an individual human died, the baton would simply be picked up by the next. If you thought of a human as nothing more than the cell of a larger institution, and treated those institutions as beings in their own right, with personalities, motives and goals… Well then suddenly humanity became much easier to interact with and understand. You weren't really talking to a human, you were talking to an institution through its human agent. It wasn’t about what the human thought or wanted, it was what the institution wanted.
Yes a single human might be lucky to see one hundred years, but how long might an institution live? What might it accomplish in that time?
\-
Even now, after all those years, Krell hadn’t lost his respect for humanity. It was simply tinged with what he might label as concern. With the benefit of time, some worrying trends had become clear.
Humans appeared to have a remarkable ability to adapt to the rapid pace of change they were inflicting on the rest of the galaxy. While they freely and happily shared their technological achievements with others, only humans seemed able to adopt them with any confidence. The other species of the galaxy were honestly overwhelmed by it all. Technology advancements that used to take millenia were now taking decades. It honestly felt like everyone else was being left behind, it seemed impossible to keep up with them and their frenetic pace.
There was also the issue of their sheer number. Humans had colonised nearly half of the known habitable planets in the galaxy. They were terraforming others. The last time a Galactic census was held, humanity had comprised nearly 64% of all sapient life. Krell didn’t get the feeling that number was likely to plateau anytime soon. What would happen when they couldn’t find anywhere new to expand into?
\-
*Case Study: The Journals Of Krell Tan’Bo - Critical Analysis by Professor James DeWitt - Mars University*
It is a truly unique experience to be able to see the viewpoint of another species during the era of humanities ascendancy. To have access to their first-hand observations and conclusions is undoubtedly a gift.
Krell’s journals provide an intriguing insight into a fascinating period of galactic history. As with other non-human species his incredible lifespan allowed him to bear witness to vast tracts of time and provide a single, unbroken perspective which covered several distinct epochs.
With the benefit of hindsight we can see that Krell was not equipped to truly understand the macro-factors at play during this period. Though this atomised thinking, without recourse to structural analysis, is ubiquitous in non-human species; who seemed to operate as isolated bastions of personal/private knowledge. Nevertheless, despite their lack of academic rigour, they still retain a certain sense of wonder as they transport us back to a time when humanity was not alone in the cosmos. | "I don't understand, Captain. Why do we fear humans? They live such short lives-"
"Exactly, Lieutenant," the Captain said. "For you and I, we can expect to live a couple thousand years-any injury we get, we have to deal with for the rest of that time. Any grudges we have, we have hundreds of years to get over it. We grow into maturity into our two hundreds and spend that entire time learning the basics."
"I...I am aware of how our species works, Captain," the Lieutenant said.
"Then understand that humans don't have that kind of time," the Captain said. "Within one year of life, most humans can talk and walk. Within five, they are developing most of their motor skills. At eighteen? Many have decided or are deciding what they will do for the rest of their lives."
"Which are only a hundred years if they're lucky-" the Lieutenant started.
"As for grudges and wars?" the Captain said. "We can last hundreds of years and don't have to act upon it. Humans?" The Captain fully faced the Lieutenant. "They don't have that, so they take care of it. Immediately. Usually with explosives, weapons, nukes."
"I-Immediately?" the Lieutenant asked, turning slightly pale.
"Yes," the Captain said with a nod. "We can live for thousands of years and spend time thinking decisions over. Humans don't have that time and instead use their power to grow fast to cut our lives short-so listen closely, Lieutenant. NEVER cross a human, for while they die soon to us, they can make it so you will die sooner and not have to live with the guilt." | |
[WP] A world where suicide is not only socially acceptable, but is the norm. | Over the past 60 years, many of my friends and close ones have committed suicide at a relatively young age. Out of all of my childhood friends, only six of us are left. Four have made plans they intend on carrying out soon, and the other one has been hospitalized for his attempt. His children plan on taking him off life support soon.
I only have my daughter left as family. She's 35 years old, which is becoming a common age for killing one's self. It's not hard to tell she's already been thinking about it. Things have slowed to a standstill in her life, and like many others, they can't find anything else to do. It comes sooner for most, and later for the rest. For me, the day should have already come, but it seems to be growing farther away.
While suicide may be normal, it isn't appealing to me. So far in my life, I've managed to do something that made my life that much more worth living for, and could always find something else to do when it didn't help me anymore. I never resigned myself to the fate that everyone else has, and that's probably the only reason why I've lived this long.
Everyone I know has never looked at me the same way again after I told them I had no plans on killing myself. Even my daughter called me selfish for not wanting to commit suicide. After a long conversation last night, I fear that she may have completely turned her back on me. It's horrible for such a thing like this to make or break a person, especially when there is no justifiable reason to kill yourself. This is a life-altering decision with life-altering consequences, and it's hard to believe that you either have to strongly feel for or against it. It's harder to believe that it's turned my own daughter against me.
I've tried to reach my daughter ever since she went home, and she hasn't called back. I hope I have found my reason yet. | Logan's Run. | |
[WP] A world where suicide is not only socially acceptable, but is the norm. | As the world became more populated, the norms of death shifted. The earth gasped for breath and heaved underneath the terrible burden that she could barely sustain. One generation, watching the last generation cling to life on ventilators that ran on the energy that could be powering lights in a school, came to decide that death was nothing to fear.
Death could, in fact, be a gift.
Resources that would otherwise be used to sustain someone who no longer wished to live could be passed down to the next generation like an inheritance, precious and personal. The cessation of one's life was seen as a final passage after the completion of an epic journey, and people often bragged that their Charon would have to struggle to find them in the crowds of adoring people that would be attending their rites. Suicide was a dirty word, a selfish word, and so it was lost along with the lives it claimed. People had rites - and *rites were right*, so the saying went.
The end of one's life became celebrated. After living many years, or becoming ill, or simply tiring of living, people would gather in their homes with their friends and families, happy and laughing. Some people preferred to go alone, but traditionally a life-ending ceremony was a family affair as much as a birth was. The Charon would eventually come and join into the party, dressed in white and shining a silver smile. Though all the party goers would recognize the stranger for who they were, no one would point out the intruder, and small children that did so were gently chastised.
During the course of the rites, the Charon would make their way over to the passer, and they would have a small chat before the Charon administered a lethal dose. The party would continue, and as the guests began to leave they would filter past the host, leaning over to kiss a cheek or have a final hug before exiting. Tears were shed, but tears of both loss and happiness; though one had gone on, life bloomed voluminously forth, like mushrooms growing on a fallen log.
It was a gift that meant one of them could live just one more year.
A gift that meant another happy couple could be allowed an infant permit.
A gift, a gift of space, and a gift of time, given from one who no longer needs to one who could not need more. | Logan's Run. | |
[WP] A world where suicide is not only socially acceptable, but is the norm. | As the world became more populated, the norms of death shifted. The earth gasped for breath and heaved underneath the terrible burden that she could barely sustain. One generation, watching the last generation cling to life on ventilators that ran on the energy that could be powering lights in a school, came to decide that death was nothing to fear.
Death could, in fact, be a gift.
Resources that would otherwise be used to sustain someone who no longer wished to live could be passed down to the next generation like an inheritance, precious and personal. The cessation of one's life was seen as a final passage after the completion of an epic journey, and people often bragged that their Charon would have to struggle to find them in the crowds of adoring people that would be attending their rites. Suicide was a dirty word, a selfish word, and so it was lost along with the lives it claimed. People had rites - and *rites were right*, so the saying went.
The end of one's life became celebrated. After living many years, or becoming ill, or simply tiring of living, people would gather in their homes with their friends and families, happy and laughing. Some people preferred to go alone, but traditionally a life-ending ceremony was a family affair as much as a birth was. The Charon would eventually come and join into the party, dressed in white and shining a silver smile. Though all the party goers would recognize the stranger for who they were, no one would point out the intruder, and small children that did so were gently chastised.
During the course of the rites, the Charon would make their way over to the passer, and they would have a small chat before the Charon administered a lethal dose. The party would continue, and as the guests began to leave they would filter past the host, leaning over to kiss a cheek or have a final hug before exiting. Tears were shed, but tears of both loss and happiness; though one had gone on, life bloomed voluminously forth, like mushrooms growing on a fallen log.
It was a gift that meant one of them could live just one more year.
A gift that meant another happy couple could be allowed an infant permit.
A gift, a gift of space, and a gift of time, given from one who no longer needs to one who could not need more. | Over the past 60 years, many of my friends and close ones have committed suicide at a relatively young age. Out of all of my childhood friends, only six of us are left. Four have made plans they intend on carrying out soon, and the other one has been hospitalized for his attempt. His children plan on taking him off life support soon.
I only have my daughter left as family. She's 35 years old, which is becoming a common age for killing one's self. It's not hard to tell she's already been thinking about it. Things have slowed to a standstill in her life, and like many others, they can't find anything else to do. It comes sooner for most, and later for the rest. For me, the day should have already come, but it seems to be growing farther away.
While suicide may be normal, it isn't appealing to me. So far in my life, I've managed to do something that made my life that much more worth living for, and could always find something else to do when it didn't help me anymore. I never resigned myself to the fate that everyone else has, and that's probably the only reason why I've lived this long.
Everyone I know has never looked at me the same way again after I told them I had no plans on killing myself. Even my daughter called me selfish for not wanting to commit suicide. After a long conversation last night, I fear that she may have completely turned her back on me. It's horrible for such a thing like this to make or break a person, especially when there is no justifiable reason to kill yourself. This is a life-altering decision with life-altering consequences, and it's hard to believe that you either have to strongly feel for or against it. It's harder to believe that it's turned my own daughter against me.
I've tried to reach my daughter ever since she went home, and she hasn't called back. I hope I have found my reason yet. | |
Watched an interview with Seth MacFarlane about a bunch of things like marketing yourself as a writer/animator, writers' rooms, etc, and it got me thinking, once again, about writing spec scripts instead of...nothing at all. So I thought this might be a fun topic for those people out there who'd love to write for TV one day.
**Some popular shows:**
Big Bang Theory
How I Met Your Mother
30 Rock
Community
Walking Dead
Game of Thrones
Breaking Bad
Mad Men
Shameless
Parks and Rec
Arrested Development (good f'ing luck)
American Dad | [WP] Change a TV show's genre to Horror and/or add a Giant Monster to it | **What's Rockin' Rockefeller?**
Open to Jenna Maroney and Liz Lemon walking down a hallway.
Jenna: Liz, do you think I'm fat?
Liz: Jenna, we've been over this.
Jenna: Oh, you're too kind, but I know that I'm not the little toothpick that Mickey Rourke used to pick the panties from the mouth of his giant sex robot anymore. Luckily, I've found a solution!
Liz: Here we go again. What is it this time?
Jenna: I found this little Japanese supermarket underneath of the gas station Paul practices his flaming pole dance act at.
Liz: What the what?
Jenna: ...A nd that's where I discovered, this handy little thing.
Liz: Nuclear Waist... A Delicious Blend of Soy, Seaweed, and Nuclear Refuse?
Jenna: Look, it came with this little toy too!
Liz: Jenna, that's a geiger counter.
Jenna: Actually it's called a geiger scale. It tells you your weight when you stand on it.
Liz: Jenna, there's no way this is healthy for you! The skin where I touched it is turning into scales. See?
Jenna: Oh Liz. You sad, sad lizard person. I know you've always been intimidated by me sexually, but trying to stop me from losing weight won't make you the prettier one.
Liz: Oh, well okay then. You go drink whatever you want! See what I care!
Liz storms off and bumps into Tracy.
Tracy: Good afternoon Liz Lemon! I see from your scrunched up face that you've come straight from some source of recent contention.
Liz: How did you- whatever. Jenna's drinking this weird radioactive stuff to make herself skinnier and I told her it was bad for her but she's all-
Tracy: Have you ever seen Godzilla, LL?
Liz: No, why?
Tracy: 'Cos my lizards are boring me and I was hoping I could make one bigger so I could ride it on a city wide rampage.
Liz: Go to rehearsal Tracy.
Tracy: Fine! But if I find out you were lying, it'll further aggregate the already malignant distrust I have against you white people!
Later...
Jack: Lemon, please explain to me why one of your "people" is rampaging through the streets of New York.
Liz: Well, see, it wasn't my fault, Jenna wanted to get skinnier, so she went to this little Japanese place under a gas station which I pretended not to know about, but it's actually where I get my favorite japanese sodas from, and then she drank the stuff and now she's taller, and now Tracy's gone, probably trying to do the same thing to his lizard-
Jack: Lemon. Stop. Sit down.
Liz sits down.
Jack: Now stand up and go fix it.
Liz: Wha- why?
Jack: Go.
Liz: Nerds!
Later...
Toofer: Liz! Tracy's Racist Lizard is trying to eat all the white people!
Liz: Why are you so worried?
Toofer: He told me I "Ain't got the jive" and tried to eat me to!
Frank: We're gonna die Liz! I haven't cleared my search history in weeks!
Liz: I'll think of something.
Jack runs down the hall.
Liz: Jack?
Jack: Liz. Kenneth. The lizard got him! I was trying to hold him, but he slipped! His last words were, "I was supposed to live forever!" And I let him go! Good god Lemon, I don't know what to do!
Liz: Jack, calm down!
Jack: I can't! The lizard's coming, none of us are safe!
Liz: Wait, do you hear that?
Loud, clanging footsteps are heard coming from somewhere.
Toofer: What's that?
Liz: I think someone's come back to save the day.
Silhouetted by the sun, 51ft Woman Jenna Maroney comes riding back into New York on the shoulder of Mickey Rourke's Giant Sex Robot.
Jenna: Tracy! I order you to stand down!
Tracy: Jenna! I'm already sitting!
Jenna: Well then prepare to die! Sex Robot, attack!
With a roar the sex robot and lizard charge at each other.
Later...
Jack: Well Lemon, we've saved New York.
Liz: And all it took was some strangely poetic sex between a giant sex robot and a giant lizard.
Jack: I've got my top men working on shrinking Jenna back down to size.
Liz: That's good. How's Tracy?
Jack: He's good. Adjusting to having Kenneth's ghost as head page, but he'll get there.
Liz: Well, that seems to have wrapped everything up. What's left, Jack?
Jack: I don't know Lemon. That lizard and that giant sex robot seemed to have a good thing going on.
Liz: Oh, but Jack, you're my mentor, and I'm your mentee.
Jack: Quiet, Lemon. No 30 rock fanfiction is complete without this.
Jacks pulls Lemon in closer, hair down, glasses up, lights off. In the darkness they pull their faces together and-
Liz: No!
Liz jerks up out of bed.
Criss: What happened! Are we out of pancake mix again?
Liz: No, I just had a nightmare.
Criss: What was it about?
Liz: Jack and Jenna and Tracy. Jenna grew like 50ft tall, and Tracy fought her with his giant lizard, and then there was this sex robot, and Jack started kissing me. It was awful.
Criss: Well, it can't be any worse than reality.
Outside, a giant lizard foot comes crashing down on the street outside. The giant creature bends down until Tracy appears in Liz's window.
Tracy: Good morning LL, my Godzilla Godzilard heard you screaming. Are you out of pancake mix again?
Fade to black.
Liz: Aw, blerg! | The Walking Dead is already a horror show. |
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