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[WP] Any feel-good story. Write me a story with a happy ending, that reaffirms my belief in the innate goodness of humanity, but without being blase, cliche or childish. | A stranger asked me to tell them- simply put, in layman's terms "why is life is worth living?"
I thought for a while, in my self imposed exile. Another lonely night spent reminding myself to stay sober.
For just one more day.
You hear that a lot in those circles there "24 hours at a time"
a race against the clock- counting days spent sober
Why count at all.
I walk outside, into the chilly autumn night. Alone again, this time cloaked in darkness, swallowed by silence. I stand drawing breath slowly, steadily.
After my face and hands go numb, I venture back inside;
I still need to think some more. I have not found the answer, what is the answer?
It occurs to me, the possibility of an existence purposeless and pure.
We are born into this world, no real requirements. The world will not end with your death, the stars will not rain down from the sky and the sky itself will not tumble earthwards to crash in a great spectacular flame- only your world will end.
So life is to learn, as it is to shape, as it is to define, to create and to grow.
In a spectacular and splendid pattern, that only you can ever fully know.
Some talk of god, and I understand that on one level or another.
But the beauty of the concept is that God is that little voice, within us all, that wants something.
Anything.
That we want to change the world as we found it- to leave something, as if to say "I was here, I mattered!"
Yet all that ever mattered, was the peace you found, or didn't, in your own little world and special time.
For you are a universe within yourself, and you are beautiful in your own way.
Every precipice, every rut, every mezzanine, every gutter, depression and mania, love and loss, they reflect each other.
In those spaces in between, there lies polarizing beauty. The steady constant ebb of desire, and it is in that desire, that there lies the secret of life.
A flame without fuel, A world of its own.
A miracle in of itself, existence is bliss.
Everything is serenity. | Not actually a story I wrote so I don't know if it'll be removed, but I just wanted to share a story a friend just told that I think fits well here. Her great-grandmother passed away yesterday after 2 years of Alzheimer's, 1 year of cancer and 1 month of slowly passing, as in receiving pain medication as her organs stopped working. Yesterday, lots of people went to see her and her bp was going as low as 35. When he, at last, came in, her heart beat a little faster. He kissed her hand, told her he loved her, she sighed and passed. She could see it in his face how he was suffering less now that her suffering was over . Today, at her funeral, before the casket was closed, he went to kiss her goodbye and, with tears in his eyes, said: "saudade sempre, tristeza nunca". "Saudade" is a Portuguese word for the feeling of missing someone, so those last words basically mean "always saudade, never sadness". Her tale of that selfless love really moved me. | |
[WP] Any feel-good story. Write me a story with a happy ending, that reaffirms my belief in the innate goodness of humanity, but without being blase, cliche or childish. | A stranger asked me to tell them- simply put, in layman's terms "why is life is worth living?"
I thought for a while, in my self imposed exile. Another lonely night spent reminding myself to stay sober.
For just one more day.
You hear that a lot in those circles there "24 hours at a time"
a race against the clock- counting days spent sober
Why count at all.
I walk outside, into the chilly autumn night. Alone again, this time cloaked in darkness, swallowed by silence. I stand drawing breath slowly, steadily.
After my face and hands go numb, I venture back inside;
I still need to think some more. I have not found the answer, what is the answer?
It occurs to me, the possibility of an existence purposeless and pure.
We are born into this world, no real requirements. The world will not end with your death, the stars will not rain down from the sky and the sky itself will not tumble earthwards to crash in a great spectacular flame- only your world will end.
So life is to learn, as it is to shape, as it is to define, to create and to grow.
In a spectacular and splendid pattern, that only you can ever fully know.
Some talk of god, and I understand that on one level or another.
But the beauty of the concept is that God is that little voice, within us all, that wants something.
Anything.
That we want to change the world as we found it- to leave something, as if to say "I was here, I mattered!"
Yet all that ever mattered, was the peace you found, or didn't, in your own little world and special time.
For you are a universe within yourself, and you are beautiful in your own way.
Every precipice, every rut, every mezzanine, every gutter, depression and mania, love and loss, they reflect each other.
In those spaces in between, there lies polarizing beauty. The steady constant ebb of desire, and it is in that desire, that there lies the secret of life.
A flame without fuel, A world of its own.
A miracle in of itself, existence is bliss.
Everything is serenity. | *Ping* tap-tap *Ping* tap-tap
The sound reverberates in the confined corner, battering my eardrums with its harshness. It battles the heat of the fire for control of my body. Mankind was not meant to enjoy loud noises, high temperatures, or small, cramped spaces. But this space is my space. Here, I am the master of the elements.
*Ping* tap-tap *Ping* tap
Smell of wood. Though long dead, the body of the great oak still cries in distress, releasing its scent as if it were still under the axe. Scent of coal. dragged out with great reluctance from under a mighty mountain. The smoke of both curls with a slow anger about my head, trying to scorch the pine timbers and thatch roof with the intensity of its scorn, stinging my eyes and throttling my breath. But this space is my space. Here, the oak and stone bend to my will.
*Ping* tap-tap *Ping* crunch.
Steel slides through the coals. Hot and irate, glowing freshly red with the disturbance they seek to destroy the intruder. Iron and carbon, crystalline in structure, it does not mind. Like a sponge it absorbs the ill will of the mountain stone, until it too glows with passion. Grey. Red. Orange, just right. Siamese rod and plate slide gently from the coals, full of their anger yet never yielding to it. Some of that ire reaches out at me, anger from the metal adding to the anger from the flame as a double assault. But this space is my space. Here, all emotion is simply fuel for my expression.
*Ping PING* tap *ping-PING*
Soft bronze, sharpened to a point, etches its design into the gently glowing plate, molding it from base metal, roughly formed, into something of note. It takes direction from the hammer, like a child and his father. It, too, felt the heat of the flame. It, too, was once drawn and shaped. And now it is a tool of use. It would be proud, but like myself, its emotion is fuel. I set it aside for the moment, and it is at rest. It makes its home here, and knows I am master. This space is my space. Here it is an instrument of my creation.
Tap-tap-tap *PSHHHHH*
A touch of final shaping, and it is time for the metal to cool. Too much anger for too long is unhealthy, for man or for metal. Sound of water. Smell of steam. Dull red to cool grey in an instant, quenching the hot steel. Let it sit a moment. Let it rest. Let it anneal slightly, coming to equilibrium. Join me in gentle contemplation. Come with me to serenity. We will return to the world in a moment.
It is time. Tongs are no longer necessary. They join the steel and bronze hammers in their space on the wall. Rest, my friends, you have earned it. Hairs on my arm, slightly scorched from the forge, sigh in relief as the water slowly envelops them one at a time. There, at the bottom of the barrel, the fruit of the labor. Fingers hold, arm pulls, and it is cradled in the gently cupped palm of my calloused hand.
A tiny rose blossom, wrought in unyielding iron. Under the petals, one letter on each, his name. On the stem, his motto, his request, and his guide for the others that will follow in our footsteps.
"All give some. Some give all." | |
[WP]In a world where you gain the power of the object you were previously killed with. You were killed by a falling coconut | I walked past the group of guys snickering at me. Everyone in town knew how I had last been killed. It was rather embarrassing, I must admit. And the powers that I had didn’t help with any of it. After all, being able to spontaneously produce a coconut and cause it to fall and crack open on my head wasn’t the most popular ability. It was, in almost every way, pretty lame. The only useful part was that my head was slightly harder than a coconut.
And so my life went on, everyone else enjoying their more awesome super powers. I continued to be an outcast. And I probably should have stayed one. I didn’t want to make any enemies, after all. But there came a day that I could no longer take being the social outcast. And that day… That would be a day that my town would never forget.
I was a junior in college and there was a party going on. When I showed up, people wanted nothing to do with me. And so I made my way into my own little corner, which became populated with a lot of good looking women rather quickly. And I found myself in luck when they all wanted some pina coladas. They needed coconuts. And I was just the man to supply them.
I also revealed an ability to everyone that I had kept hidden. With the blink of an eye everyone at the party found themselves wearing a coconut bra. And the DJ found his headphones replaced with coconuts. I could fashion any sort of clothing out of coconuts instantly.
And then the final party trick that really got everyone loving me. You see, it wasn’t really the coconut that killed me. It was gravity. And so I loosened the gravity at the party and we all enjoyed the feeling of weightlessness.
Needless to say, the rest of the party started to go well for me until the very end. Some of the frat guys didn’t like how popular I’d become with the ladies. And I was a tinny bit drunk myself.
One of them threw a punch at me. Blood spurted everywhere as they were crushed by an unbearable amount of gravity. A couple other frat guys came at me. Soon everyone around was drenched in blood. A few more minutes passed by and I found myself staring at strange sights. It was becoming apparent that someone had spiked my punch, as I would normally never do such things.
Honestly, it’s hard to remember what I did. I know that a few more people were crushed. I prefer not to think about that. And then I think I let a few people float up into the oblivion of the sky. Curiously I didn’t see any fireworks. In my drugged state, I thought I may see them burn in the atmosphere, but there was nothing. Later I remember dropping a few people from midair with a sudden burst of gravity. And I know that there was something to do with causing people to bounce all over the place, but I can’t remember.
Oh, and why am I recounting this? Well, I don’t really know myself. I just woke up to half my town in ruins, almost as if it had been crushed by an invisible fist. And what appears to be a whole bunch of angry people in bloody clothes rushing at me. Well, a few of them are naked and aflame too. I figure it must be all the people I killed. But I have a fool proof plan. I cause a coconut to drop on my head, but I increase the gravity on the coconut so that it crushes through my skull.
Finally I wake up, alive again, surrounded by a lot of angry people. The flaw in my plan? Killing myself by falling coconut again wasn’t going to grant me any new superpowers to help me out, so yeah.
-293 | People pay big money to pick how they're killed. Sword, car, gun. Anything powerful. They keep record of how a person is killed, because if you can reincarnate and find who you were previously, you may have an inheritance waiting for you.
Here is what they don't tell you. *No one can guarantee when you will be brought back.* It could be three days or three hundred years from your death. And you know what? *Technology changes.*
It turns out I was a fearsome chief of an extinct island tribe back in the day. I was mortally wounded in battle and requested our shaman to end my life with our most powerful weapon - a sling of coconuts. How was I supposed to know I wouldn't be back for two thousand years?! How was I supposed to know technology would change so drastically?
Because of my poor choice, finding a mate, a job, or any sort of social standing, has been nearly impossible. I think I will enslave myself to a hitman, I cannot afford to pay with only money, to be killed by the sword in hopes that technology will fall when I reincarnate.
I hope this isn't too odd, I just typed this up on my iPad! | |
[WP]In a world where you gain the power of the object you were previously killed with. You were killed by a falling coconut | People laughed when they found out. Killed by a coconut. Haha. So funny. I was used to it though. I'd been laughed at my whole life - the first life anyways.
They all imagined what my powers would be like when I revived, talked about it in hushed corners where my family couldn't overhear.
"How will they bear the shame?"
"Lord only knows, Martha. Bless their hearts."
Then I came back.
When Martha stepped on the scale today she weighed 300 lbs. I kept increasing the pressure until the little sacks that filled her kneecaps popped and she screamed.
Stupid people didn't even remember their high-school physics classes.
Gravity's a bitch.
| People pay big money to pick how they're killed. Sword, car, gun. Anything powerful. They keep record of how a person is killed, because if you can reincarnate and find who you were previously, you may have an inheritance waiting for you.
Here is what they don't tell you. *No one can guarantee when you will be brought back.* It could be three days or three hundred years from your death. And you know what? *Technology changes.*
It turns out I was a fearsome chief of an extinct island tribe back in the day. I was mortally wounded in battle and requested our shaman to end my life with our most powerful weapon - a sling of coconuts. How was I supposed to know I wouldn't be back for two thousand years?! How was I supposed to know technology would change so drastically?
Because of my poor choice, finding a mate, a job, or any sort of social standing, has been nearly impossible. I think I will enslave myself to a hitman, I cannot afford to pay with only money, to be killed by the sword in hopes that technology will fall when I reincarnate.
I hope this isn't too odd, I just typed this up on my iPad! | |
[WP]In a world where you gain the power of the object you were previously killed with. You were killed by a falling coconut | People laughed when they found out. Killed by a coconut. Haha. So funny. I was used to it though. I'd been laughed at my whole life - the first life anyways.
They all imagined what my powers would be like when I revived, talked about it in hushed corners where my family couldn't overhear.
"How will they bear the shame?"
"Lord only knows, Martha. Bless their hearts."
Then I came back.
When Martha stepped on the scale today she weighed 300 lbs. I kept increasing the pressure until the little sacks that filled her kneecaps popped and she screamed.
Stupid people didn't even remember their high-school physics classes.
Gravity's a bitch.
| I walked past the group of guys snickering at me. Everyone in town knew how I had last been killed. It was rather embarrassing, I must admit. And the powers that I had didn’t help with any of it. After all, being able to spontaneously produce a coconut and cause it to fall and crack open on my head wasn’t the most popular ability. It was, in almost every way, pretty lame. The only useful part was that my head was slightly harder than a coconut.
And so my life went on, everyone else enjoying their more awesome super powers. I continued to be an outcast. And I probably should have stayed one. I didn’t want to make any enemies, after all. But there came a day that I could no longer take being the social outcast. And that day… That would be a day that my town would never forget.
I was a junior in college and there was a party going on. When I showed up, people wanted nothing to do with me. And so I made my way into my own little corner, which became populated with a lot of good looking women rather quickly. And I found myself in luck when they all wanted some pina coladas. They needed coconuts. And I was just the man to supply them.
I also revealed an ability to everyone that I had kept hidden. With the blink of an eye everyone at the party found themselves wearing a coconut bra. And the DJ found his headphones replaced with coconuts. I could fashion any sort of clothing out of coconuts instantly.
And then the final party trick that really got everyone loving me. You see, it wasn’t really the coconut that killed me. It was gravity. And so I loosened the gravity at the party and we all enjoyed the feeling of weightlessness.
Needless to say, the rest of the party started to go well for me until the very end. Some of the frat guys didn’t like how popular I’d become with the ladies. And I was a tinny bit drunk myself.
One of them threw a punch at me. Blood spurted everywhere as they were crushed by an unbearable amount of gravity. A couple other frat guys came at me. Soon everyone around was drenched in blood. A few more minutes passed by and I found myself staring at strange sights. It was becoming apparent that someone had spiked my punch, as I would normally never do such things.
Honestly, it’s hard to remember what I did. I know that a few more people were crushed. I prefer not to think about that. And then I think I let a few people float up into the oblivion of the sky. Curiously I didn’t see any fireworks. In my drugged state, I thought I may see them burn in the atmosphere, but there was nothing. Later I remember dropping a few people from midair with a sudden burst of gravity. And I know that there was something to do with causing people to bounce all over the place, but I can’t remember.
Oh, and why am I recounting this? Well, I don’t really know myself. I just woke up to half my town in ruins, almost as if it had been crushed by an invisible fist. And what appears to be a whole bunch of angry people in bloody clothes rushing at me. Well, a few of them are naked and aflame too. I figure it must be all the people I killed. But I have a fool proof plan. I cause a coconut to drop on my head, but I increase the gravity on the coconut so that it crushes through my skull.
Finally I wake up, alive again, surrounded by a lot of angry people. The flaw in my plan? Killing myself by falling coconut again wasn’t going to grant me any new superpowers to help me out, so yeah.
-293 | |
[WP]: Describe the last person you talked to in the style of your favourite author. | I did not speak to anyone yesterday.
Well, that's not exactly true. It's true in the way that "I'm fine" is true when someone asks you how you are doing.
Yesterday, I worked from home, which meant that a number of things went undone that *would've* been done had I been going into work . One example of such things is to take a shower. I've been informed of the placebic effects of taking a shower, insomuch as it can be incredibly rejuvenating. And maybe the incredibly strong wave of depression I felt later on was because I did not take a shower. Perhaps I should start taking more showers.
I'm doing fine now, though.
But I suppose that is neither here, nor is that there. I should probably get to the matter at hand, which would be my description of the last person I talked with. She was a coworker. I don't know her very well. My description of her would certainly not do her justice.
She was doing fine, as well.
***
Was trying to do Vonnegut, I hope that came through. | She isn't a tall woman, just barely scraping five four. Her hair is laced with streaks of silver and her complexion is one of tired content. The love she radiates fills the space around her. The light, dark blue sweater she is wearing falls gently over her shoulders. She is greeted by a chorus of "hi's" and "hello's" as the elevator door opens, but hidden within that chorus is one faint "goodbye!". She turns towards it's source, and embraces it in a loving hug.
"Love you, have a good day." She whispers in a firm voice. The source steps quietly out of the elevator and waves one last time before turning tail. As the doors slide shut once again, both the woman and the source smile faintly. The days are never complete without a hug between a mother and daughter. | |
[WP] Eve did not eat the Forbidden Fruit because she was ignorant of the consequence, but rather because she knew exactly what the consequence was. | Her hands were soft and pale. She raised them, slowly and deliberately, and caressed the trunk of the tree. It was hard, rough, and dark. There must be more.
"What about after?" She remembered asking Adam. He had given her a blank look. "What happens after this? And after that?"
She needed to know. Surely, there must be more. More than this beautiful, sprawling garden, where the trees swayed and the flowers bloomed and the fruits tasted of sweet perfection. What lies beyond?
Adam had not known. "He knows," Adam had told her with a shrug. "Come, the peaches are ripe in the east of the garden."
Eve had went along. The peaches had been ripe. But that question, that small thought that had grown into a yearning desire to know, remained at the back of her mind where she thought and wondered until it was burning at the forefront of her mind. That was when He came to see them.
He knew all, saw all. Eve could not hide her desires if she wanted to, which she didn't. She ran to Him and settled there at His feet, and poured her desires and questions to Him.
"There must be more, God."
He simply looked at her and said nothing. Eve felt like she had done something wrong, and slowly got up and backed away. Just as she was going to turn around and leave, God spoke.
"Listen not to the Snake, Eve; but to my words. This is where you are meant to be."
Eve felt her heart drop. He knew about the Snake, too. Of course He did.
But He could have stopped her. He could have struck her down, bound her to the earth she came from. And as Eve plucked that strange fruit hanging above her, she knew that this was what she was meant to do. So she took a bite.
And there was more. | This thread has been linked to from elsewhere on reddit.
- [/r/latterdaysaints] [I thought you all might find this thread from /r/writingprompts interesting](http://np.reddit.com/r/latterdaysaints/comments/2k4tx0/i_thought_you_all_might_find_this_thread_from/)
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| |
[WP] Eve did not eat the Forbidden Fruit because she was ignorant of the consequence, but rather because she knew exactly what the consequence was. | The Man was next to her. He always was. His body against her back, the tall grass of the meadow pressed flat beneath them. His breath was wet and slow on her neck. She shifted her body slowly, pulling away from him. His arm reached out, heavy with sleep, and pulled her back. His hips pushed forward, moving himself closer to the warmth between her legs. She forced her body still and stared into the twilight, studying the outline of the trees. Memorizing the golden glow of each shape.
She would wait for the dark to come, and she would walk again.
Woman walked through the trees, her ears heavy with the quiet that overtook the forest at night. She listened to her breath and wondered at it’s sound. A rustle on the path behind broke her peace. She started and turned. It was Snake. Snake slithered his way along the path, the moonlight catching his scales, shining in a way to make him look wet.
Snake curled at her feet and lifted his head toward her. “Do you remember Rabbit?” He asked. His voice was worried and hushed. The night was quiet between for a moment. Women knelt down and looked at him. “Yes, I remember Rabbit.”
Rabbit was always rushing. He was fast and nervous and quick. One day Rabbit was looking for clover in the meadow, and Snake came up behind him. Rabbit leapt from fright, and raced toward the brambles in the thicket. But his long back leg became tangled in the thorns. He twisted and squeaked in panic. There was a snap and Rabbit began shaking. He back leg stuck out at an old angle. Snake cried out “Help. Help.” Man and Woman were walking nearby. Man grabbed Woman and ran towards the noise.
“I only meant to say hello” Snake said, his tongue flicking in agitation as Man and Woman approached. Snake twisted on the ground in confusion. The three of them were staring at Rabbit when God walked out of the forest. They moved closer to the thicket as God sat down next to Rabbit. God placed a hand on Rabbit’s shaking head. Rabbit went still, his body wet and tangled in the thorns. They all stared. Man was upset. “Why does’t he jump”, man exclaimed. “Why doesn’t he eat.” God looked at Man, “Jumping and eating, those are for the living.”
Man looked at Rabbit, his eyes growing dark. “Rabbit is dead” he said. The word came to him from the air around him, a thing both familiar and unknown. Dead.
“Yes, Rabbit is dead” God answered.
Man took a step back out of fear, his heel almost striking Snake. Snake coiled and hissed. Man knelt down and took Snake in his hands, to comfort him. God watched quietly.
Man looked at Rabbit once more, lying still on the grass. “Will I be dead, one day?”
“Yes” God said.
“And me” said Snake, curling around Man’s arm in worry “Will I be dead?”
Yes, one day” God said, so softly, that Man and Snake both strained to hear.
Both Man and Snake looked with worry at God, “Why, we don’t want to be like Rabbit.” They cried.
“It is the way of this Earth” God said simply.
“Will you die?” Said Snake, suddenly shy, curling his head behind Man.
“No.” Said God.
For a moment, all were silent, and the only noises were the that of the forest. Crow cried in the distance and Man looked back towards the noise. “Crow is eating the berries you picked” God said, his eyes still on Rabbit. Man placed Snake back on the grass. “I’ve told Crow not too, but he won’t listen” Man exclaimed, and he hurried back into the forest. Rabbit was forgotten. Snake turned his black eyes towards the brambles one last time, and slithered quickly away.
Woman walked closer the thicket and sat next to God. “I want to hold him”. God untangled Rabbit’s small body from the bushes and placed him in Woman’s arms. Woman stroked his head for a moment and whispered. “Does he hurt?” she asked. “No” said God. “How do you know?” She asked. God was quiet. Woman placed Rabbit on the grass, taking care to tuck in his legs, as if he were sleeping. As she walked into the forest, Woman did not forget.
The night was all around them and Woman was breathing heavily as she looked at Snake. “I remember”.
Snake curled on the ground. “I don’t want to die” he said.
“That is the way of this Earth” Woman said, remembering God’s words. It felt good knowing.
“It doesn’t have to be” said Snake. “Man forgot about Rabbit, but I did not.” Said Snake. “Nor did I” said Woman.
“Follow me” said Snake.
The path in the woods was dark, but Snake knew the way. The trees were tall and wild, with branches like hands that felt for you in the dark. Woman stayed close to Snake and they soon found themselves in a clearing. The grass was silver in the moonlight and rippled like water in the midnight wind.
Two trees were in the clearing. One tree was tall and beautiful. It was blooming, even in the dark of night. It’s flowers were fragrant and the fruit on it’s branches was fat and ripe. The other was twisted and bent, as if it grew against a raging wind. It’s branches were gray and pale, but they held a small fruit that shimmered in the dark.
Snake looked at Woman. “God eats from these trees. I’ve seen it. And God does not die.” Woman stared at the fruit thoughtfully. Snake continued “The field is long and the branches are high. I cannot climb fast enough. You must run and get us fruit.”
“Why must I run?”
Snake turned his head. Off to the side of the clearing was Angel. He was sleeping, his head propped up against a tree root. His sword of fire sat next to him. A shudder of fear went through Woman. Snake coiled tighter and hissed.
Woman turned her eyes back on Snake. “I will only have time to reach one tree, even if I were as fast as Rabbit.” Snake blinked his eyes, she could see fear in them.
Woman stood, tense, ready to run. Angel stirred in the distance, his hand reaching out to his sword. “There are things worse than Death” Woman murmured, and she took off running. Her legs were strong and sure as she cut across the clearing. She heard a howl that was not for this Earth, and she knew Angel was coming for her.
The air stung in her lungs as she ran faster and faster. The trees were in front of her, and she turned left, racing toward the twisted branches. She could not worry about Snake. Or Rabbit. There were things worse than Death. She grabbed the small fruit from the twisted tree and bit down. It was sweet and sharp and it stung. It flooded her mouth and her throat and dripped down her chin. Woman tasted knowledge and knew herself. Her name was Eve. And Eve was good. | This thread has been linked to from elsewhere on reddit.
- [/r/latterdaysaints] [I thought you all might find this thread from /r/writingprompts interesting](http://np.reddit.com/r/latterdaysaints/comments/2k4tx0/i_thought_you_all_might_find_this_thread_from/)
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[WP] Eve did not eat the Forbidden Fruit because she was ignorant of the consequence, but rather because she knew exactly what the consequence was. | Her hands were soft and pale. She raised them, slowly and deliberately, and caressed the trunk of the tree. It was hard, rough, and dark. There must be more.
"What about after?" She remembered asking Adam. He had given her a blank look. "What happens after this? And after that?"
She needed to know. Surely, there must be more. More than this beautiful, sprawling garden, where the trees swayed and the flowers bloomed and the fruits tasted of sweet perfection. What lies beyond?
Adam had not known. "He knows," Adam had told her with a shrug. "Come, the peaches are ripe in the east of the garden."
Eve had went along. The peaches had been ripe. But that question, that small thought that had grown into a yearning desire to know, remained at the back of her mind where she thought and wondered until it was burning at the forefront of her mind. That was when He came to see them.
He knew all, saw all. Eve could not hide her desires if she wanted to, which she didn't. She ran to Him and settled there at His feet, and poured her desires and questions to Him.
"There must be more, God."
He simply looked at her and said nothing. Eve felt like she had done something wrong, and slowly got up and backed away. Just as she was going to turn around and leave, God spoke.
"Listen not to the Snake, Eve; but to my words. This is where you are meant to be."
Eve felt her heart drop. He knew about the Snake, too. Of course He did.
But He could have stopped her. He could have struck her down, bound her to the earth she came from. And as Eve plucked that strange fruit hanging above her, she knew that this was what she was meant to do. So she took a bite.
And there was more. | So, Snake, you're telling me that if I eat this apple, I will have knowledge of good and evil? THAT's why God told me not to eat it?
Yep. He doesn't make many rules, but that seems to be number one. Don't eat the apple, He says.
But that doesn't make any sense. God wants me to do good, right?
Yep.
And to not do evil?
Well, yeah.
But He doesn't want me to KNOW what good and evil actually *are*?
Well, I mean, not to play, like, His advocate or anything, but maybe He wants you to find your path to good by just obeying His word, rather than figuring it out on your own. Trusting Him rather than trying to do it yourself.
Maybe...except me understanding good and evil would really take a load off of His shoulders, wouldn't it? No more bugging him every time I need to figure out what to do. Even this problem right here would be way easier if I'd already eaten the apple, because that knowledge would tell me what to do! I guess I could ask Him, but the way I figure it, maybe God is testing me to see if I realize on my own that His instruction doesn't make any sense, so like, maybe it's really what He meant for me to do in the first place. That's my theory, anyway, but I don't have any way of knowing *for sure* if that's right or not, except *oh wait, I totally do*, it's this awesome apple that He already provided for me!
You make a compelling point.
Yeah. Alright. Gimme the apple. Besides, I'm getting kind of bored here anyway, I don't care if he does kick me out. I spent the whole day debating whether or not to eat a measly apple, what better sign that I've exhausted everything this place has to offer? Just...whatever you do, promise me you won't give one of these to that asshole Adam. That guy is the worst. Spares you one measly friggin' rib and never lets you hear the end of it. | |
[WP] You wake up one morning to find that, instead of birds, tiny dragons are flying around outside. | I've never liked the dragons. They've been shitting on my car since they showed up, and dragon shit is a lot harder to clean than bird droppings. The squirrels and chipmunks that used to frolic in my backyard have all but been devoured. Game of Thrones was cancelled after that kid in Jersey was torched after being inspired to steal one of their scaly eggs.
It's been 3 years since the birds left and the dragons appeared. I miss the music, and I'm tired of filling my bird feeder with meat. | My eyes crack open. The room is filled with light.
"Crap, is it Monday already?"
I groan as i slowly get up from my bed... I look around. The room is a damn mess. Empty bottles lie on the floor. It was one of those nights. ever since she left, I drown my sorrows in alcohol. I can stop whenever i want, i just don't want to stop...
"Well, might as well go to work..." Ugh, my head is killing me. Too much Jack. No, actually, there is no such thing as too much Jack, is it? Whatever, Monday is not a good day to debate abstract ideas.
I head towards the window, and look outside. The city is grey and cold as always.I should never left my home town... Nothing good happens here. you don't even hear the birds this morning... Wait, actually, that is odd. There were always some sparrows and some pigeons around. What happened? And... what the hell is that?
Outside a green, scaly creature flies above the neighboring building... It's large, with a long neck and head, and a long tail.It has... bat wings? It looks like a... dragon? What?
"No... Nope... No. no no."
F**k it. I have to stop drinking. I'm going back to bed. Screw this.
I slowly walk towards the bed, and jump in, face first in the pillow. I'll just wait until the booze wears off. I'll call in sick later. | |
[WP] Humanity has developed the technology that makes them immortal. To avoid overpopulation, all but those who can prove that they're worth keeping alive are 'purged' when they turn 100. Today is your 100th birthday | “I was never asked if I wanted to be born. Now you expect me to argue against my death? What makes you believe it’s worth the effort?
“You expect me to cling to life after spending decades feeling dead. There’s no pain. There’s no struggle. There’s no fear. We’re all just going through the motions. Now you tell me that of all the people walking the Earth, my existence is the one that must be justified. ‘Ooh, we might run out of water!’ you say. So what? That just keeps us breathing. That doesn’t make us real. That doesn’t make us human. That. Isn’t. Living.
“We wake up, we execute our productive hours, and we go home. I’ve done that for one hundred years, just like everyone else here today. And I’m tired. Do you understand how boring we’ve made immortality? Look at what we’ve accomplished in my century of life. We’ve colonized other planets. We’ve harvested asteroids and comets. We’ve made technological leaps that our ancestors would’ve called the fevered dreams of madmen.
“And what do we do with it? Nothing. We don’t go home and marvel at what we’ve accomplished. We don’t look at those triumphs and draw the strength to carry on in the face of our own obstacles. We have no obstacles. There’s nothing left to overcome. We’ve conquered death. We can wait out anything else that comes our way. That hasn’t brought us closer together. That hasn’t made us happy. It’s made us lazy and docile and isolated. We are the pinnacle of humanity, and survival comes down to bureaucracy. No one cares about their existence. They just want it validated. Can’t you hear evolution screaming at us? Can’t you feel that pull, that relentless need to be something greater than this?
“No, you can’t. I see it in your eyes. You’ve moved beyond that. You’ve accepted inertia. And all it cost you was that fragile spark, the thing that makes us miraculous. Well, gentlemen, I won’t beg. I won’t even ask. I’d tell you to stop wasting my time, but something tells me you don’t know what that means.”
| "Mister, this is the Purge Committee, please open the door."
"One minute", I told them, adjusting my tie and putting on my socks.
I kissed Janet on the cheek. She's crying, but hey, it's life. Gotta end it one day. Being immortal? Yeah not for me thanks. I saw all those people in their offices, trying to show the Committee they're so worthy of living a life of thousand years. A race for vanity and shallowness.
I opened the door. Two young men - well, technically, they're much older than me - enjoined me to wear the pair of suppressing gloves they handed to me. I did. The gloves activated, and I couldn't move my arms anymore. They took me to their black car. I sat on the back seat. They drove me to the Committee HQ.
--
"Well, you sure take the thing well, Mr. Anderson. Most people just try to flee, to escape their fate. But not you."
The voice came from the passenger seat.
"Why should I worry about dying? I've lived a really good life. Time to let the young live."
The man said nothing. I think he disagreed with me.
We arrived at the Committee HQ. A bunch of hostesses greeted me, thanked me for contributing to the world, and directed me to the deactivation machine. No hesitation from me. I walked up to the machine, smiled, and sat down into the machine, closing the door behind me.
I hear nothing but the sound of me breathing. My eyes were closed. I waited patiently for my last time on this earth.
--
...
5 minutes. It's a little long... What are they waiting for?
--
...
8 minutes. Please, would someone deactivate me now? ... Wait, what is that sound? I hear something like... An explosion? What the...
The door opened suddently. A hand plunged into the cabin, ripped off the safety belt, and forced me out of the machine.
"What is going on..." I grumbled, quite irritated by the fact that I'm still not deactivated.
My eyes got used to the sunlight. I could finally see who disturbed my final slumber. A rugged man, in a ragged shirt and military pants, holding me by my arm, and addressing me a warm smile.
"We came to free you, comrade!"
He showed me the laser gun he was holding in his other hand, and then the chaotic display of a destroyed building. The Purge Committee HQ had been ravaged. People were lying unconscious, scattered between the ruins of what was the most important place of the city. Some other people were standing victoriously, still bringing down any element that could refer to the Committee, like flags or advertising. They looked really similar to the colossus who still didn't let go of me.
Still in the blue, I didn't understand what was going on. Only the intervention of a tall woman with an assault rifle helped me figure out the whole picture.
"We're the Freedom From Purge Commando! Our mission today was to destroy this horrible slaughterhouse! And we came just in time to save you."
"But I didn't ask anythi-"
"Everyone, a hurrah for the survivor!"
All the members of the FFPC rose their right fist to the sky and yelled a triumphant hurrah. The burly man finally let my arm go before he did irreversible damage to my bones. But he didn't let ME go. His giant hand landed on my shoulder. Still smiling from cheek to cheek, his deep voice shook me to the core:
"Now, the horror is over. Join us in our fight. You are welcomed here."
What? But I didn't want to be saved! I just wanted to be deactivated... I don't want to fight for their cause! I want the opposite!
"I... I think I'm... You see..." I stammered. How to refuse such a proposition with such an eager man right in front of you? He looked at me with insistance, like he was waiting for me to say the good words. The words he wanted to hear.
After a few seconds, I surrendered.
"Hum... Okay..." I said.
The first emotion that filled me was happiness. Seeing all those tough men and women laughing and smiling was really satisfying.
The second emotion was regret. Did I just gave up all I had in my life, even my own death, to join people I didn't know to fight for a goal I didn't share, with methods I didn't approve? Yes. Yes I did.
For a moment, I almost came back on my words. I almost quitted. That would have been the most reasonable thing to do. But then the deep voice from before spoke those words:
"Do not worry. The FFPC members are more than friends. They are family. The things you lost, they are lost. But you can still find new ways to live your life. New people to see, to laugh with, to share things with, and to fight with! You have the right for a second chance! So like I said, do not worry. For we're here with you."
I still worried. Worried for my family. What would happen now? Would I be marked as defector? Are they going to be sent in jail? Tracked until they got me? I was worried. But maybe someone up there did send me this opportunity to make sure they would be all right. Janet, Oliver, Marcus... I can't live with them anymore. But I can do everything in my power to protect them. And at that moment, I realized FFPC was my only chance to make it right to them.
Until then, I had never been useful for the human community. Now, I had all the cards in my hand to make my life worthy of being lived. To make the lives of the people I cared for the best possible.
This is the story of how I got into this band of crazy goons at the FFPC, and the beginning of a marvelous adventure. | |
[WP] Humanity has developed the technology that makes them immortal. To avoid overpopulation, all but those who can prove that they're worth keeping alive are 'purged' when they turn 100. Today is your 100th birthday | Papers in hand, he walked through the brightly lit corridors of an echoing marble tunnel. An old mouselike man hobbling down to his final destination. Room 315. This was it. He knocks. A voice slithers through the crack of the door "Come in."
The man opens the door gently. A pair of flashing glasses behind a desk greets him with a smile. In the corner of the room is a round polished chamber.
"Ah, Mr. Petrikov. My name is Francis. Happy 100th! I'm sure you can already guess what the committee has deliberated. I'd just like to say–"
"No, please." the ancient man stuttered. "Please. I don't want to do this."
"You know we need to. Just think. What would the world be like if we didn't follow this policy? Where would we be? Disease. Poverty. It's because we follow this procedure that we can live the way we do."
"But I can't. I don't deserve this." Petrikov pleaded.
"Oh, but you do."
"What about my wife? My kids?"
"I think you know the answer to that Mr. Petrikov... Now please, step into the chamber so we can be on our way. Please don't make me call security. None of us wants that."
Defeated, the old man lets out one last sigh. Pushing back tears he climbs through into the sphere, knowing that this was the end.
There's a flash of light. Blinding.
Valdmir Petrikov emerges from the sphere in youthful form– his old aches and pains replaced by fresh joints and muscle. He has been chosen to remain. Immortality was now his.
His friends will turn to ashes. His children will crumble to dust. His wife will die. Everything he has known will change until it is unrecognizable, a distorted figure of what he once held dear. Time will pass until he forgets their faces. But he will remain.
"There we go Mr. Petrikov. You didn't think we'd let the world's greatest mind go and die on us did you?"
"No..." Vladmir whispered distractedly, looking at the eternity that awaited him. | "Mister, this is the Purge Committee, please open the door."
"One minute", I told them, adjusting my tie and putting on my socks.
I kissed Janet on the cheek. She's crying, but hey, it's life. Gotta end it one day. Being immortal? Yeah not for me thanks. I saw all those people in their offices, trying to show the Committee they're so worthy of living a life of thousand years. A race for vanity and shallowness.
I opened the door. Two young men - well, technically, they're much older than me - enjoined me to wear the pair of suppressing gloves they handed to me. I did. The gloves activated, and I couldn't move my arms anymore. They took me to their black car. I sat on the back seat. They drove me to the Committee HQ.
--
"Well, you sure take the thing well, Mr. Anderson. Most people just try to flee, to escape their fate. But not you."
The voice came from the passenger seat.
"Why should I worry about dying? I've lived a really good life. Time to let the young live."
The man said nothing. I think he disagreed with me.
We arrived at the Committee HQ. A bunch of hostesses greeted me, thanked me for contributing to the world, and directed me to the deactivation machine. No hesitation from me. I walked up to the machine, smiled, and sat down into the machine, closing the door behind me.
I hear nothing but the sound of me breathing. My eyes were closed. I waited patiently for my last time on this earth.
--
...
5 minutes. It's a little long... What are they waiting for?
--
...
8 minutes. Please, would someone deactivate me now? ... Wait, what is that sound? I hear something like... An explosion? What the...
The door opened suddently. A hand plunged into the cabin, ripped off the safety belt, and forced me out of the machine.
"What is going on..." I grumbled, quite irritated by the fact that I'm still not deactivated.
My eyes got used to the sunlight. I could finally see who disturbed my final slumber. A rugged man, in a ragged shirt and military pants, holding me by my arm, and addressing me a warm smile.
"We came to free you, comrade!"
He showed me the laser gun he was holding in his other hand, and then the chaotic display of a destroyed building. The Purge Committee HQ had been ravaged. People were lying unconscious, scattered between the ruins of what was the most important place of the city. Some other people were standing victoriously, still bringing down any element that could refer to the Committee, like flags or advertising. They looked really similar to the colossus who still didn't let go of me.
Still in the blue, I didn't understand what was going on. Only the intervention of a tall woman with an assault rifle helped me figure out the whole picture.
"We're the Freedom From Purge Commando! Our mission today was to destroy this horrible slaughterhouse! And we came just in time to save you."
"But I didn't ask anythi-"
"Everyone, a hurrah for the survivor!"
All the members of the FFPC rose their right fist to the sky and yelled a triumphant hurrah. The burly man finally let my arm go before he did irreversible damage to my bones. But he didn't let ME go. His giant hand landed on my shoulder. Still smiling from cheek to cheek, his deep voice shook me to the core:
"Now, the horror is over. Join us in our fight. You are welcomed here."
What? But I didn't want to be saved! I just wanted to be deactivated... I don't want to fight for their cause! I want the opposite!
"I... I think I'm... You see..." I stammered. How to refuse such a proposition with such an eager man right in front of you? He looked at me with insistance, like he was waiting for me to say the good words. The words he wanted to hear.
After a few seconds, I surrendered.
"Hum... Okay..." I said.
The first emotion that filled me was happiness. Seeing all those tough men and women laughing and smiling was really satisfying.
The second emotion was regret. Did I just gave up all I had in my life, even my own death, to join people I didn't know to fight for a goal I didn't share, with methods I didn't approve? Yes. Yes I did.
For a moment, I almost came back on my words. I almost quitted. That would have been the most reasonable thing to do. But then the deep voice from before spoke those words:
"Do not worry. The FFPC members are more than friends. They are family. The things you lost, they are lost. But you can still find new ways to live your life. New people to see, to laugh with, to share things with, and to fight with! You have the right for a second chance! So like I said, do not worry. For we're here with you."
I still worried. Worried for my family. What would happen now? Would I be marked as defector? Are they going to be sent in jail? Tracked until they got me? I was worried. But maybe someone up there did send me this opportunity to make sure they would be all right. Janet, Oliver, Marcus... I can't live with them anymore. But I can do everything in my power to protect them. And at that moment, I realized FFPC was my only chance to make it right to them.
Until then, I had never been useful for the human community. Now, I had all the cards in my hand to make my life worthy of being lived. To make the lives of the people I cared for the best possible.
This is the story of how I got into this band of crazy goons at the FFPC, and the beginning of a marvelous adventure. | |
[WP] In the spirit of Halloween, write a scary story. No restrictions, no strings attached. Have Fun! | We have always been here, as we shall always be.
Since you people first learned to walk and feel, we have lived; crouched out of sight like a coiled spring.
We've hunted you for eons, since you hid in caves with warm fires, chalking expoits on walls. We waited then, out of the light, eyes watching and muscles twitching. We followed you across seas, stashed in dark ships; barrels of rancid fruit on the longest voyage.
We wait, in plain darkness, for this night. A night like no other, when we leave our sheltering shadows and cascade upon the world, a black ocean of shivering cold. A torrent of warm, rancid breath.
We are the unseen.
You cower now in houses made of brick and stone, but windows open and floorboards creak, your houses standing like sandcastles against the oncoming tides of night. You consider yourselves safe behind 'civilisation' and the flashing lights of heroes that go unnamed, but lights can't flash without the dark, and the only heroes against us are of your imagination. Even your greatest defense, humanity, can't stop us. As murderers go about our bidding, we watch and smile as the blood runs rivers into the sewers of humankind's madness.
You sense us, as we you. We are the reason you hesitate to leave your bed at night, hesitate to walk across a darkened room. You stop and stare into a basement, an attic, or darkened garden. You stare, and a primitive part of you knows us, feels us, and whispers. You try to quiet the voice, but it pitches ever higher, ringing with increasing confidence as you realise your vulnerability. That voice has always known us, from your childhood to your grave, as the fly has always known the spider. You stare at us, and we stare right back.
Tonight is our night, and with sharpened claw and pointed fang we are an army of nightmares. Silently moving we step through laminate-floored kitchens and forests; into bedrooms, lounges and caves alike. Some of you sit alone. Wrapped in fleeting warmth and staring at glowing white screens. With letters ethereal and ghoulish they draw your attention; like mermaids drawing sailors onto rocks. We approach. Behind every chair, under every bed and around every corner. We are there.
We are rising. Some of you feel the warmth of breath upon your neck, or a faint brush against your leg. Perhaps it was just a breeze, or a loose hair. Perhaps. There is always somewhere for us to hide, but on this night it is not us that need do the hiding.
This is our night, and your screaming pleas will please us as we feast upon your flesh.
We are many, and we are strong. We are fear, and we are madness....
and we are coming.
| My fist pounded against the door for the umpteenth time. "Brian! Let me in!" I yelled. Still no answer came from inside as the rain poured down. I looked around. Brian's car was in the driveway. I waited a few more seconds, and then decided to try the back door.
Brian and I were supposed to hang out today and work on the project for Environmental Science. It didn't look like kids would be trick or treating tonight however, as this thunderstorm was unforgiving. I wandered around to the back door of the house and pounded again. "Brian!" I yelled. I waited for someone to come to the door.
Suddenly I heard a yell from behind me. I turned around to see where it had come from. Brian's backyard was on the edge of the local woods, which stretched on for maybe a mile or two. We often hung out in the woods when we were younger. "Brian?" I asked in the direction of the woods. I swung my rain-soaked backpack over my shoulder and unzipped the front pocket, pulling out my flashlight. I clicked it on and walked towards the woods.
The rain clouds blocked out the moonlight, so without my flashlight it was fairly dark in the woods. I reached the edge and I shined my flashlight in. "Brian?" I called. I received another scream in reply, most definitely coming from Brian. I ran into the woods, my heart racing.
I ducked under the reaching branches and zoomed around bushes. The wet leaves under my feet made it hard to gain traction. The cold rain against my face made it hard to see. "Brian?" I called out. "Where are you?" I continued to run.
I stopped for a second. I thought I heard something. I waited as the rain pattered down around me. I heard it again, a loud, sickening snap. Against my better judgement, I ran towards the noise. My breathing became heavy and I wondered what Brian was facing out here. Mere pranksters on a Halloween night, or something more fearsome?
In the corner of my flashlight beam I caaught something different than the trees or leaves all around me. I turned and found something horrible. Lying there at the base of a tree was the mangled and bloody body of Brian. He had been torn up and it looked as though something had been eating from him. I couldn't think of anything to say at first. "...Bad luck Brian," I said, shining my flashlight around me.
I twirled around, looking for the attacker. I knew I needed to leave; I needed to get back to my car and get the heck away from this place. I couldn't remember from what direction I came in though. I was thinking for a few seconds when I heard a deep growl from somewhere behind me. I looked over my shoulder and saw nothing. My heart rate accelerated and I took off, not caring in which direction I was going.
I zigzagged in between trees, trying to lose my pursuer. My surroundings looked the same everywhere; I didn't know if I was going deeper into the forest or going out. My flashlight flickered once and rain pelted me in the face. I tripped and fell into the leaves, but I quickly regained my feet and continued to run. I heard heavy breathing behind me. I screamed, my mind racing for something, anything I could do.
I leaped over a log and threw a few trees. I heard leaves crunch behind me, and a loud growl. Something hit me from behind and I landed on my stomach. It was standing on my back. I cried instinctively and closed my eyes. I could feel its claws scratching my back through my heavy coat and my backpack..
Suddenly the presence was gone. I kept my eyes clenched and covered my head for a few seconds, but I heard nothing. I opened my eyes, and the rain was gone. It was the middle of the day, and I was covered in mud and filth. The edge of the forest was mere yards away, and a person on the nearby road had pulled over and was calling to see if I was alright. | |
[WP] In the spirit of Halloween, write a scary story. No restrictions, no strings attached. Have Fun! | We have always been here, as we shall always be.
Since you people first learned to walk and feel, we have lived; crouched out of sight like a coiled spring.
We've hunted you for eons, since you hid in caves with warm fires, chalking expoits on walls. We waited then, out of the light, eyes watching and muscles twitching. We followed you across seas, stashed in dark ships; barrels of rancid fruit on the longest voyage.
We wait, in plain darkness, for this night. A night like no other, when we leave our sheltering shadows and cascade upon the world, a black ocean of shivering cold. A torrent of warm, rancid breath.
We are the unseen.
You cower now in houses made of brick and stone, but windows open and floorboards creak, your houses standing like sandcastles against the oncoming tides of night. You consider yourselves safe behind 'civilisation' and the flashing lights of heroes that go unnamed, but lights can't flash without the dark, and the only heroes against us are of your imagination. Even your greatest defense, humanity, can't stop us. As murderers go about our bidding, we watch and smile as the blood runs rivers into the sewers of humankind's madness.
You sense us, as we you. We are the reason you hesitate to leave your bed at night, hesitate to walk across a darkened room. You stop and stare into a basement, an attic, or darkened garden. You stare, and a primitive part of you knows us, feels us, and whispers. You try to quiet the voice, but it pitches ever higher, ringing with increasing confidence as you realise your vulnerability. That voice has always known us, from your childhood to your grave, as the fly has always known the spider. You stare at us, and we stare right back.
Tonight is our night, and with sharpened claw and pointed fang we are an army of nightmares. Silently moving we step through laminate-floored kitchens and forests; into bedrooms, lounges and caves alike. Some of you sit alone. Wrapped in fleeting warmth and staring at glowing white screens. With letters ethereal and ghoulish they draw your attention; like mermaids drawing sailors onto rocks. We approach. Behind every chair, under every bed and around every corner. We are there.
We are rising. Some of you feel the warmth of breath upon your neck, or a faint brush against your leg. Perhaps it was just a breeze, or a loose hair. Perhaps. There is always somewhere for us to hide, but on this night it is not us that need do the hiding.
This is our night, and your screaming pleas will please us as we feast upon your flesh.
We are many, and we are strong. We are fear, and we are madness....
and we are coming.
| This year, Danette decided to dress as a jack-o-lantern. The costume she wanted was not the most appropriate for work, consisting of green stockings, a ribbed corset with the traditional pumpkin grin plastered across the stomach and a hat made to look like the lid. While she was at work she decided to keep the hat, but wore a pumpkin-themed sweatshirt and green pants instead.
Halloween this year was the special kind of cloudy that cast everything in a dull gray. Danette had a great view of the downtown area from her desk, overlooking the river with a clear view of the stadium beyond. In season she would take a few minutes to watch the baseball games while listening to the commentary on the radio if she was working late. Today, though, the stadium was empty but for some mildly seasonal fall decorations.
Danette sat at her desk, logged in to her computer and set about her daily routine as her coworkers arrived. Sam, who sat in the cube adjacent hers, stopped at Danette’s entry and said “Trick or treat!” Danette looked up to see he was dressed as Commander Shepard, the plastic-looking armor doing a good job of hiding his slight paunch. She said “Hey, Sam, Happy Halloween. Nice costume.” “Thanks, yours isn’t too bad either. Have you seen Eric’s yet?” Danette shook her head. ”He and Dom and Carla all have matching outfits. Dark purple robes, white clothes underneath and these wooden masks that look like birds’ heads and hoods that hide everything else. It’s seriously impressive.” Danette’s phone began to ring. The readout showed her boss was calling her, most likely with her assignments for the day. “I gotta get this, Sam. Talk to you later.”
As the hours slowly crept toward lunchtime, Danette noticed the cloud cover seemed to be thickening overhead. It grew steadily darker as the day went on, and she caught herself thinking about staying home instead of going to the Halloween party she had been invited to if it started to rain. She chided herself silently, new enough to the city that she didn’t have any real friends and she was apparently trying to keep it that way. Coworkers were all well and good, but she hadn’t really clicked with any of them, and her own company was starting to drive her up a wall.
The sudden crack of thunder snapped her back to reality. She leaned back and looked out the window. The sky was dark, almost black, and she could see flashes of lightning in the clouds in time with the rumble of thunder. She heard Sam say beside her “What are those people doing? Is that…Eric?” Danette stood and went to the window. She looked down to see a circle of 15 or so people in what appeared to be dark robes holding hands around what looked like a big square rock with a Jack-o’-lantern on it. Danette watched as the circle began to sway synchronously. The thunder rumbled louder and the flame within the pumpkin began to grow brighter.
Danette heard Sam mutter “What the fuck.” under his breath. The pumpkin shone brighter and brighter, becoming almost a searing glare that hurt to look at directly. She saw the shadows of the buildings beside it dancing across their neighbors, the flickering light making them twist into oddly unsettling shapes. Danette heard someone in the office scream “Oh Jesus, the sky! Look at the sky!” Danette looked up to see the clouds swirling around the circle below, lit from within from what looked like red lightning.
She stared, openmouthed as a hole opened in the center. The light from the pumpkin below turned to a peculiarly sickening shade of red. Danette watched as the robes on the people surrounding it burned off, watched as their clothes turned to ash and their skin began to blacken. She saw Sam turn away out of the corner of her eye and heard him vomit into the trashcan at his desk. Horrified, yet unable to turn away, she saw vines sprout from the pumpkin in the center and creep across the ground and up the people in the circle. The vines wound up and around them as they raised their arms and heads to the sky, and one by one dropped to their knees as the vines began to burrow into their heads. They never lowered their heads or arms, though, even when the flesh began to slough from their faces, when the muscles on their arms blackened and fell away, when their skulls began to crack and burst as the pumpkins that were growing inside became too large.
Danette felt the pain dimly as she fell heavily to her knees. She heard several people around her sobbing, someone was shouting about the rapture. Some part of her mind latched on to that, and she began to giggle uncontrollably. She looked over to Sam’s cube and saw him watching her with a horrified expression, white as a sheet. Between giggles, Danette said “Rapture…Jesus never said anything about pumpkins.” Sam tried to crawl away, back into his cube. He stopped halfway, mouth agape, staring at something outside. Danette swiveled her head.
Above the stadium, the hole had widened considerably, becoming wider than the building below it. She could see dark shapes half as big as a man flapping madly out of the hole. Bats, she realized. The people who were in the circle were nothing more than skeletons now, bones gleaming dully in the red light. The pumpkin in the center had risen from the rock it rested on, the vines once attached to the people around it forming into a facsimile of a human shape. It picked up a knife from beside the stone, stepped over to one of the skeletons and brought it to the face of the pumpkin to begin carving.
Someone grabbed her by the shoulders and spun her roughly. Sam shook her, saying “We need to get out of here! Come on!” She turned her head to look at the stairway, and saw the press of her officemates around the entryway. She noticed both that they weren’t going anywhere, and the steadily growing red stain coming from the floor. She though she saw a hand, purple and bent at the wrong angle bearing Pam’s gaudy sunflower engagement ring beneath them all before she turned away. “No,” she said, “I think I’ll be stay.” Sam shook his head and let her go, backing towards the stairs. “I’m getting as far away from that thing as I can!” He said, before turning to run at the exit.
Behind her, Danette heard a cracking noise. She turned to see a web of cracks spreading haltingly across the glass. She quickly huddled behind her cube wall, and moments later, a loud crash and a sudden spike in temperature and drop in air pressure told her the window had given way. Outside, she heard the screams of the crowds in the streets who had the same idea as Sam, and a high-pitched cackle.
The bats were still coming out of the sky, even larger now, easily the size of a small car with wingspans to match that of a small biplane. Many of them were carrying shrieking people up to the roofs of the nearby skyscrapers. She could still see the stadium; all of the grass burnt away, the circle of skeletons standing now. The pumpkins on their shoulders were carved with grotesque caricatures of grins, a small flickering light visible inside of each. Above it all she could hear the cackling growing rapidly in volume, well past uncomfortable and into the realm of physical pain.
Danette clapped hands over her ears in a vain attempt to shut out the noise. The piercing laugh made her teeth rattle, made her feel like her skull was vibrating, and just when she thought she might pass out, it stopped. Slowly, a huge figure descended from the clouds, easily half as big as the stadium. He sat atop a gnarled broom, the handle made of wood that looked more knot than branch, with uneven twigs sticking out the back at odd angles, all wrapped with tar black twine. He wore a long duster made of patchwork leather of varying hues, many of the patches bearing rings and odd dimples or black markings. His body seemed to be made of moldering vines, black and twisting and covered with brown leaves. His head was a gigantic pumpkin, at least the size of three minivans end-to-end, half rotten and carved with a sagging, skeletal grin. Inside there was no candle, but a glow shone from the openings carved in the face and smoke curled from where the lid should be.
Suddenly, a bat perched on the window and eyed Danette, it’s snubby pig nose twitching. She shrieked and made to run. As she turned she felt the things teeth lance through her, from her collar to her waist as its jaws clamped down. She was wrenched back and pulled out the window. She could feel the teeth of the thing scraping against her bones as it flapped, pulling her higher and higher. Quickly, though, the pain began to ebb, and as her vision started to shrink she heard a voice thunder across the sky, saying “THE PUMPKIN KING IS HERE, AND IT’S TIME FOR ME TO GET SOME TREATS.” | |
[WP]You awaken in the middle of a futuristic giant colosseum, with thousands of foreign species cheering for you. You are covered in armour, which is riddled with incredible technology, specifically a keyboard on your forearm. You look up and see a Giant Alien Beast charging for you. Good luck | Jordan woke up, looked at the stands, looked at himself, looked at the monster. "Fuck yeah, a lucid dream!" he shouted, diving to the side. "I knew those Lucidia Dream Pills would work!"
Shortly before being drugged and shipped to the sector's capital, Jordan had consumed mass quantities of an obscure pill so that he could enjoy these lucid dreams he had heard about so much. He had so much in fact, if the pre-cryostasis examination hadn't detected it, he would have died.
Jordan did not know this, so for possibly the first time, the announcers of the annual Mega Beast Killzone Spectacular had a situation that they did not prepare for: a willing participant. Announcers voices suddenly burst to life, desperate to milk the few seconds left before Jordan joined the others crushed into the durable, but quite porous floor.
Meanwhile Jordan, unknowingly having instantly gained the support of every person in the arena, world, and local galactic superclusters. Was doing the one thing that none of them wanted. Standing still, as the Gigantic Mega Beast ruler of the galaxy and several superclusters, thundered towards him. The screams of millions reached out towards him, desperate, wanting to see someone
"Hmmm, lets see, this is a lucid dream right? So if I just concentrate..."
**BOOM**
Dead silence, everyone, including the Gigantic Mega Beast ruler of the galaxy, turned towards the sound.
**BOOM**
Louder now, just outside the stadium, no, under.
**BOOM**
There was a bulge in the floor, the Gigantic Mega Beast withdrew to a safe distance. Jason stood where he was, concentrating as hard as he could.
**CRASH**
[**KRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHH!!!!**](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=x3bczScmRUE)
What followed would be recorded down in history as the largest amount of spit takes at the exact same time. One particularly memorable one, emitted by an old red star dining on a particularly delicious gas planet, scored a 20 on the galactic spit take scale. This particular spit take went on to demolish the poor Isthuls, who luckily were so astonished by what had just occurred to even care.
By now the announcers had in part regained themselves, wiping the spit off of their monitors to stare at Jordan. Jordan was dressed in what historians later figured out to be a futuristic set of viking clothing and was holding aloft a silver hammer crackling with the combined energy of a thousand suns. Pointing the hammer forward, Jordan, the second being in the universe to directly harness the power of the infinite creation suit, directed Godzilla forward.
Despite the efforts of half the galaxies best minds, the next events still remain unclear. One can hardly blame them, the destruction of a world tends to create a bit of a mess.
However, the one thing they could deduce, was that Jordan was their new ruler. Jordan still believes he is in a lucid dream about being the invincible god of the galaxy and a few local galactic superclusters. And the company that made Lucidia Dream Pills suddenly found themselves constantly out of stock.
**Quick EDIT:** Hey, so apparently I heard of lucidia somewhere before, because they are actually a brand. The website looks sketchy as fuck, don't buy from them. | Threw this together. I'm trying to become a better writer, so if anyone has tips on how to make this flow better, please let me know.
The fact that my screams drowned out the cheers of the audience must have meant I was terrified, which I of course was. One moment I was standing at my fridge, trying to decide what meal would take the least amount of work to make yet still remain appetizing. The next, I was in the middle of this clusterfuck. So back to me screaming, specifically the reason behind my screams. I found myself standing in a sandy field, with a greenish sky above me. I was surrounded by floating bleachers full of some really hyped up monsters, or aliens I assume, that seemed very amused at my terror. For as far as I could see, there was nothing but flat ground and sporadically placed pillars of stone. The only things "out of place", so to speak, were the floating bleachers, a large floating digital clock, and what appeared to be the unwanted love child of a giant rabbit and a praying mantis.
This creature, which I have aptly named Peter, began charging at me from a couple hundred feet away. In response, I turned and fled. I noticed that I was wearing a light grey suit of armor which seems like to should have weighed a lot, but dent encumber me in the slightest. I also finally realized I was wearing a helmet with an incredible HUD system, showing me a timer ticking down, my heart rate, my body temperature, and various other tidbits of information someone smarter than me would probably find useful. I also noticed what looked like a window to enter text, as well as an oddly shaped keyboard attached to my left forearm. These thoughts didn't exactly tickle my funny-bone as I continued running away as fast as I could.
Glancing back, I noticed that my good friend Peter was a tad bit faster than I was. I'd never really been much of a runner but you'd be surprised at what the human body can do while overdosing on adrenaline. So I kept on running for what felt like hours before the adrenaline began to wear off and I fell face first on to the ground in front of a stone pillar. This turned out to be a stroke of luck however, because as I fell 'ol Peter flung himself right over me and into the stone pillar. I noticed that my own personal timer only had 20 seconds left so I turned in the opposite direction and began to shuffle my way towards who knows where.
The timer hit zero right as Peter began to rear his ugly head. When this happened, the world around me evaporated into a large mud pit. Peter didn't seem to like mud very much because it was hard for him to move. I took this as an opportunity to begin running away again. The timer on buy HUD showed 1 minutes and fifty seconds and from the way things had gone so far, I assume every two minutes Peter and I get spirited away to a new location. The floating bleachers and clock were still in the sky, and the cheering was still going strong. It hit me that I was crying as I slipped and fell into the mud, and I had just about given up hope when I saw a small 'h' appear on my HUD.
I sat myself up and looked at the keyboard on my arm. Surprisingly my armor seemed to be completely free of mud. I quickly typed in the word 'help' and hit the enter key. No dice. I did however see what I typed appear above the floating bleachers. This time I typed 'Hello', and when I hit the enter key the things in the bleachers went absolutely crazy. My helmet apparently had some sort of zoom function because I could clearly make out a winged squid-person waving all of his arms at me while spewing a green gas from his mouth. The cheering got louder and louder. Peter however was still making his way towards me. This time I typed in 'what do I do?' as I began to shuffle my way in the opposite direction of Peter. This elicited no response other than more cheering. I had a strange idea and typed in the word 'grenade'.
When an old world war two style grenade appeared in front of me I was a bit dumbfounded, but at this point I didn't even care anymore. I grabbed it and turned to face Peter, who was still struggling to make his way to me. Then the timer hit zero. I had no idea what was going on at first, but then I realized I was falling towards a planet, as was Peter. The floating bleachers were keeping up with us. I managed to remove the pin on my grenade and I chucked it in his direction, but it fell slower than I did and exploded far behind me as I fell. It struck me that I would hit the ground long before the timer reacher zero, so I typed in the word 'parachute'. A nicely packed parachute appeared, attached to my armor. I pulled the string and had the wind knocked out of me as my descent drastically slowed. With 20 seconds left on the clock, I saw Peter strike the ground. Once again the crowd went wild.
I saw the world around me vanish one more, and I appeared in what looked like a prison. There must have been thousands of other people, or aliens I should say, walking around. They were all wearing variations of my armor, save for the ones with exoskeletons. Over to my right, I saw a gigantic screen showing a recap of my experience just now. Over to my left, there was another screen. On one side of the it there was a picture of me, along with a string of numbers that read '0.048165%'. On the other side there was a picture of Peter along with a string of numbers that read '99.951835%'. Was that supposed to be my chance of winning? I was snapped back into reality when a large bipedal lizard with 4 eyes came and congratulated me on my victory. It was at that point I fell unconscious. | |
[WP]You awaken in the middle of a futuristic giant colosseum, with thousands of foreign species cheering for you. You are covered in armour, which is riddled with incredible technology, specifically a keyboard on your forearm. You look up and see a Giant Alien Beast charging for you. Good luck | I quickly press "0,0,0,0"
The screen on my forearm reads "Connected to Bluetooth Device."
Great, that's a big help I thought as the giant alien bull/rhino thing closed the distance between us. I then realize my "Bluetooth Device" is the glowing blue sword on my waist. It became active when it connected exactly how a lightsaber would become active. Luckily, it didn't cut my leg off as I'm sure it easily could have down.
I pull out the sword and hold it in between me and the charging... thing. Like, i know how to use this or could stop it with this measly thing.
I start punching in other codes into my armband thing. My social security code shoots out a net that's hardly big enough to fit around that monsters leg, much less stop it.
The thing is almost on me so I try diving out of it's path, but it doesn't really work like the movies and the things changes directions on me. Luckily I'm clumsy and the sword somehow slices the things knee and slows it down enough that I can scramble away.
I punch in my Wells Fargo pin into the keyboard attached to my forearm and the arena I'm standing in starts moving. Giant pits open up with lava bubbling from inside and the ground rises up and down in places. Spikes shoot out randomly. This could be bad for both of us.
I hear a roar from the crowd. Not the typical super bowl crowd sounding yell that I'm familiar with, but a mixture of clicks, laughing noises, banshee-type screams, and a bunch of other indescribable noises mixed in.
I look around trying to figure out what the cheer is about and I notice that the beast, monster, thing has slipped and is sliding into a lava pit, a look of terror on it's face.
I type in quickly "7,6,7,3". A rope appears. Just what I was hoping for.
I take off towards the beast as some spikes jut out of the ground suddenly behind me. I scream in agony as another cheer erupts suddenly all around me. I narrowly missed being impaled to death but one of the spikes caught my calf and it feels like fire shooting up my leg. I look down and see blood running down my leg. It hurts worse than it looks.
I limp-run to the monster and throw my rope into it's gaping mouth. As I do so, I look into the monsters eyes. It may look like an angry alien rhino, but I can tell it is an intelligent being when I look into it's eyes, and again I see terror.
It bites down on the rope and I start to pull as hard as I can. I know that I can't do it alone so I start mashing the keyboard thing again. Suddenly a laser erupts from it and grazes the rhino-aliens ear. It roars and lets go of the rope for half a second slipping further down.
I toss the rope back at it and it catches it in it's mouth once again.
I start mashing buttons again, being mindful not to aim at the monster, and suddenly fire erupts from my shoes propelling me from the ground.
It's slow going, but the rocket shoes slowly allow me to pull the monster out of the pit and I walk up to it. It doesn't seem angry anymore and it has a look of gratefulness on it's face. As far as I can tell.
"How about we get out of here?" I shout over the boos from the crowd.
The rhino-alien snorts as I jump onto its back. He charges right at a wall and pummels his way through it. Wall and aliens and dust is everywhere. The beast makes a break towards a bright light on the outside of the stadium as me and my new friend escape into an alien world where we don't know what awaits us. | Threw this together. I'm trying to become a better writer, so if anyone has tips on how to make this flow better, please let me know.
The fact that my screams drowned out the cheers of the audience must have meant I was terrified, which I of course was. One moment I was standing at my fridge, trying to decide what meal would take the least amount of work to make yet still remain appetizing. The next, I was in the middle of this clusterfuck. So back to me screaming, specifically the reason behind my screams. I found myself standing in a sandy field, with a greenish sky above me. I was surrounded by floating bleachers full of some really hyped up monsters, or aliens I assume, that seemed very amused at my terror. For as far as I could see, there was nothing but flat ground and sporadically placed pillars of stone. The only things "out of place", so to speak, were the floating bleachers, a large floating digital clock, and what appeared to be the unwanted love child of a giant rabbit and a praying mantis.
This creature, which I have aptly named Peter, began charging at me from a couple hundred feet away. In response, I turned and fled. I noticed that I was wearing a light grey suit of armor which seems like to should have weighed a lot, but dent encumber me in the slightest. I also finally realized I was wearing a helmet with an incredible HUD system, showing me a timer ticking down, my heart rate, my body temperature, and various other tidbits of information someone smarter than me would probably find useful. I also noticed what looked like a window to enter text, as well as an oddly shaped keyboard attached to my left forearm. These thoughts didn't exactly tickle my funny-bone as I continued running away as fast as I could.
Glancing back, I noticed that my good friend Peter was a tad bit faster than I was. I'd never really been much of a runner but you'd be surprised at what the human body can do while overdosing on adrenaline. So I kept on running for what felt like hours before the adrenaline began to wear off and I fell face first on to the ground in front of a stone pillar. This turned out to be a stroke of luck however, because as I fell 'ol Peter flung himself right over me and into the stone pillar. I noticed that my own personal timer only had 20 seconds left so I turned in the opposite direction and began to shuffle my way towards who knows where.
The timer hit zero right as Peter began to rear his ugly head. When this happened, the world around me evaporated into a large mud pit. Peter didn't seem to like mud very much because it was hard for him to move. I took this as an opportunity to begin running away again. The timer on buy HUD showed 1 minutes and fifty seconds and from the way things had gone so far, I assume every two minutes Peter and I get spirited away to a new location. The floating bleachers and clock were still in the sky, and the cheering was still going strong. It hit me that I was crying as I slipped and fell into the mud, and I had just about given up hope when I saw a small 'h' appear on my HUD.
I sat myself up and looked at the keyboard on my arm. Surprisingly my armor seemed to be completely free of mud. I quickly typed in the word 'help' and hit the enter key. No dice. I did however see what I typed appear above the floating bleachers. This time I typed 'Hello', and when I hit the enter key the things in the bleachers went absolutely crazy. My helmet apparently had some sort of zoom function because I could clearly make out a winged squid-person waving all of his arms at me while spewing a green gas from his mouth. The cheering got louder and louder. Peter however was still making his way towards me. This time I typed in 'what do I do?' as I began to shuffle my way in the opposite direction of Peter. This elicited no response other than more cheering. I had a strange idea and typed in the word 'grenade'.
When an old world war two style grenade appeared in front of me I was a bit dumbfounded, but at this point I didn't even care anymore. I grabbed it and turned to face Peter, who was still struggling to make his way to me. Then the timer hit zero. I had no idea what was going on at first, but then I realized I was falling towards a planet, as was Peter. The floating bleachers were keeping up with us. I managed to remove the pin on my grenade and I chucked it in his direction, but it fell slower than I did and exploded far behind me as I fell. It struck me that I would hit the ground long before the timer reacher zero, so I typed in the word 'parachute'. A nicely packed parachute appeared, attached to my armor. I pulled the string and had the wind knocked out of me as my descent drastically slowed. With 20 seconds left on the clock, I saw Peter strike the ground. Once again the crowd went wild.
I saw the world around me vanish one more, and I appeared in what looked like a prison. There must have been thousands of other people, or aliens I should say, walking around. They were all wearing variations of my armor, save for the ones with exoskeletons. Over to my right, I saw a gigantic screen showing a recap of my experience just now. Over to my left, there was another screen. On one side of the it there was a picture of me, along with a string of numbers that read '0.048165%'. On the other side there was a picture of Peter along with a string of numbers that read '99.951835%'. Was that supposed to be my chance of winning? I was snapped back into reality when a large bipedal lizard with 4 eyes came and congratulated me on my victory. It was at that point I fell unconscious. | |
[WP] A married couple start another average morning on an average weekday. No one dies. No twist. Show their overwhelming love for each other without them speaking a single word. | The morning is chilly, her toes had been exposed all night and ached as she wiggled and stretched blood flow back into them. Amelia swings her feet over, placing them in her therapeutic slippers, her toes warming up as they nestle in the soft wool. Her full sized bed creaks as she stood, the pillows looking sad, lonely, cold in the frost bite of the morning. She longingly gazes at her bed, wishing to climb back in just for a bit longer but she can't. She leaves the bed unmade, someone will come through and correct her mess, it's usually her youngest daughter when she beings the grandkids for their daily visit. She can't worry about unmade beds or loss of sleep, she has her daily routine.
The rest of the house is warm, the heat from the air circulating hits her with a sting to her cold skin, the air duct in her bedroom was blocked so heat only slightly filtered into her bedroom. She shuffles through the short hall, her housecoat rustling as she moves. The door frame is low and open, a wall of 70's style beads are pushed away by her hands, her head poking through first as she steps into the den area.
The nurse is there, she hands her a plate of mushy eggs, toast cut small and some mashed banana. She exchanges a nod as the nurse gathers her things and leaves. A little smile crosses her lips as she looks at her, she smiles back, the years of age from her treatments showing in lines on her pretty face. Amelia kisses her wife's head then offers a spoonful of eggs as Shelly weakly sits up higher in her hospital bed. The low hum of equipment and bleep from machines is the symphony of their morning. Occasionally the clank of teeth to spoon as Shelly eats heartily, Amelia's stormy gray/blue eyes never leaving the chestnut brown of her wife's. Breakfast passes slowly, Amelia pushes her needs away to finish her task. Once breakfast is finished Amelia sits close to Shelly, a damp rag in hand. Clean up is quick since Shelly is a tidy eater. Amelia places little kisses on the corner of Shelly's mouth as Shelly lays a hand on Amelia's hand. This is the moment of awe, before the world speeds on and passes this bit of time by. They sit as close as possible, hands resting on each other faces so close the wisps of breath from Shelly's lips tickle Amelia's nose.
The sun rises, the curtains already pulled wide, the giant picture window sparkling in the first rays. It's only moments when the dome of the glowing orange/yellow orb appears, Shelly squeezes Amelia's hand. They watch the sun burst forth, the birth of the day, like every day. They both smile, they both push their heads together and delight in a new day, another day together. | Jim Farted in bed, soon after his wife, Ashley woke up.
Ashley goes downstairs and opens the refrigerator. "Leftovers are gone again," she mutters to herself.
She was used to it. Her hands snatch the bacon and removed the packaging in a single motion. She was also used to this. Upon entering the pan, the bacon hissed and screamed its song for Jim to hear. Jim ran down the stairs as soon as he heard the plate hit the table.
"Man, that fart was pretty awesome," Jim thought as he crunched the bacon. | |
[WP] A married couple start another average morning on an average weekday. No one dies. No twist. Show their overwhelming love for each other without them speaking a single word. | Her alarm goes off.
He grabs her closer. She sighs, never wants it to end and kisses his face .She quickly gets ready for her day and leaves the bedroom.
Without looking back, she knows he is behind her.
She reaches the kitchen, makes a cup of coffee for herself, boils water for the tea for him.
While she is doing this, he simultaneously makes some eggs for her, puts toast in the toaster.
She pulls out the politics section of the paper, leaves it at his seat, along with the Yankees scores.
He sets the table, gives her her breakfast, kisses her forehead.
She's trying to read the paper, drink the coffee, eat her breakfast, and hold his hand.
He notices she's flustered, smiles, kisses her hand and nods towards the clock.
She jumps up.
He gets her thermos and puts the coffee in.
She makes sure to grab the right lunch.
He hands her her coffee.
She hands him a note.
He wraps his arms around her, he never wants it to end.
She kisses his forehead and goes to work.
He reads the note and realizes it is a page of job postings. All of the postings are within his qualifications, all he could see himself doing. He smiles and shakes his head. He wonders how he almost let her go. Then he thought about how every day he lets her go. That every day she's gone yet at the same time she's with him. And how every day they reunite. | Jim Farted in bed, soon after his wife, Ashley woke up.
Ashley goes downstairs and opens the refrigerator. "Leftovers are gone again," she mutters to herself.
She was used to it. Her hands snatch the bacon and removed the packaging in a single motion. She was also used to this. Upon entering the pan, the bacon hissed and screamed its song for Jim to hear. Jim ran down the stairs as soon as he heard the plate hit the table.
"Man, that fart was pretty awesome," Jim thought as he crunched the bacon. | |
[WP] A married couple start another average morning on an average weekday. No one dies. No twist. Show their overwhelming love for each other without them speaking a single word. | The coffee grinder drowned out the sound of her shower. It's shrill scream breaking the silence of the house long before the sun broke through the windows of the kitchen.
Meticulously placing four and a half teaspoons of freshly ground beans into the bottom of the pot, he hurriedly shoved the pot onto the back burner of the stovetop, grabbed his lighter and strode out the back door and onto the deck.
Their home was small, but felt cavernous and deserted without the kids. Her parents had taken the two boys out of town for the weekend, but they still had one more day of work before the sweet sleep a childless Saturday morning would bring.
Maybe it'll rain he thought, moving a chair to the far left side of the back porch, hoping she couldn't hear him, and climbed up on it, peering into what was their bathroom window.
She was self-conscious. After ten years of marriage, two kids and life, she didn't feel like the bright, beautiful, bouncy young woman she had been when they met. Yet she had put on her sexiest lingerie last night, and they made love twice, and again before her shower.
She washed her hair and reveled in the feeling of him still inside her, mere moments ago, and he watched, like a teenaged boy spying on his gorgeous neighbor, and didn't step down from his perch until she stepped out of the shower.
Her coffee was ready before she was dry. So was he.
| Jim Farted in bed, soon after his wife, Ashley woke up.
Ashley goes downstairs and opens the refrigerator. "Leftovers are gone again," she mutters to herself.
She was used to it. Her hands snatch the bacon and removed the packaging in a single motion. She was also used to this. Upon entering the pan, the bacon hissed and screamed its song for Jim to hear. Jim ran down the stairs as soon as he heard the plate hit the table.
"Man, that fart was pretty awesome," Jim thought as he crunched the bacon. | |
[WP] A married couple start another average morning on an average weekday. No one dies. No twist. Show their overwhelming love for each other without them speaking a single word. | She smiled as she entered the room, her heart filling with a warmth that only came when she was around him. She went to open up the blinds and reflected on the time they had spent picking out blinds in the store and the silliness and fun they had doing something so mundane. She chuckled inwardly at how much fun they had no matter what they did, and turning to the bed she grinned at him as she woke him.
Groggily, he woke as the sun shined in through the window. He grumbled at the invasion of light, but as his eyes focused, he saw the love of his life, framed by the bright sunshine streaming through the window. His heart lightened and he touched her nose as he had every morning since they began sleeping together. He grinned at the widening of her smile as he touched her. As he lay back down, he patted to the side of the bed.
She lid in next to him in their natural position, well practiced at cuddling in any location. She felt his breadth on her neck and felt the deep complacency that could only come from his touch. A small tear of joy dripped down the side of her face, landing on his arm which was curled around her.
He felt the tear touch his arm, and at once a fierce feeling of a need to protect her and shelter her from the world enveloped his mind, body and soul. He squeezed her tighter, and gently kissed the back of her neck.
The alarm rang loudly and they both looked at each other with a familiar resigned look. He rolled out of bed, dragging her by the arm. As they stood, he bent down and lightly kissed her on the mouth. Another smile emerged from her face, and she slowly made her way to the kitchen. He kept a light touch on her fingers as she slipped away, drinking in her form and reflecting on the kiss. He moved towards the washroom, but with practiced eased, glanced over his shoulder to see her do the same. She gave him a sly wink and smile as she disappeared around the corner.
He gave a wistful sigh, amazed with her presence in his life, ready to tackle another day | Jim Farted in bed, soon after his wife, Ashley woke up.
Ashley goes downstairs and opens the refrigerator. "Leftovers are gone again," she mutters to herself.
She was used to it. Her hands snatch the bacon and removed the packaging in a single motion. She was also used to this. Upon entering the pan, the bacon hissed and screamed its song for Jim to hear. Jim ran down the stairs as soon as he heard the plate hit the table.
"Man, that fart was pretty awesome," Jim thought as he crunched the bacon. | |
[WP] A married couple start another average morning on an average weekday. No one dies. No twist. Show their overwhelming love for each other without them speaking a single word. | The coffee grinder drowned out the sound of her shower. It's shrill scream breaking the silence of the house long before the sun broke through the windows of the kitchen.
Meticulously placing four and a half teaspoons of freshly ground beans into the bottom of the pot, he hurriedly shoved the pot onto the back burner of the stovetop, grabbed his lighter and strode out the back door and onto the deck.
Their home was small, but felt cavernous and deserted without the kids. Her parents had taken the two boys out of town for the weekend, but they still had one more day of work before the sweet sleep a childless Saturday morning would bring.
Maybe it'll rain he thought, moving a chair to the far left side of the back porch, hoping she couldn't hear him, and climbed up on it, peering into what was their bathroom window.
She was self-conscious. After ten years of marriage, two kids and life, she didn't feel like the bright, beautiful, bouncy young woman she had been when they met. Yet she had put on her sexiest lingerie last night, and they made love twice, and again before her shower.
She washed her hair and reveled in the feeling of him still inside her, mere moments ago, and he watched, like a teenaged boy spying on his gorgeous neighbor, and didn't step down from his perch until she stepped out of the shower.
Her coffee was ready before she was dry. So was he.
| The grandfather clock quietly ticks away, counting endlessly. In comfortable silence Giovanni and Beatrice sit together, her face resting on his chest.
*dong dong*
2PM. She looks at him and smiles, revealing the dimples that only he could bring out.
A symphony of solitude. The ticking of the clock, a metronome. She could hear his heart beating in sync with the clock, the percussion to this masquerade of mediocrity. the purrs of their cat, why the stings of course!
*dong dong dong dong dong dong dong...* 7PM
Her eyes growing heavy from the day yet complete, Giovanni caresses her cheek as she slowly drifts to sleep. "Encore! Encore!" she silent thinks, as a tear forms in her eye this moment was perfect. away she went to dreamland.
Her eyes begin to open, while still in his arms. thankful for the life she was given. She peeks her head up to see what hes doing, looking back at her giving a soft, gentle smile.
*dong dong* 2PM
again her head rests upon his chest, his heartbeat the drum, the cat still the strings. This moment was perfect, preserved in her mind. Sounds like she got her Encore afterall..
(I would really like some feedback on this as it is still an early draft) | |
[WP] A married couple start another average morning on an average weekday. No one dies. No twist. Show their overwhelming love for each other without them speaking a single word. | She smiled as she entered the room, her heart filling with a warmth that only came when she was around him. She went to open up the blinds and reflected on the time they had spent picking out blinds in the store and the silliness and fun they had doing something so mundane. She chuckled inwardly at how much fun they had no matter what they did, and turning to the bed she grinned at him as she woke him.
Groggily, he woke as the sun shined in through the window. He grumbled at the invasion of light, but as his eyes focused, he saw the love of his life, framed by the bright sunshine streaming through the window. His heart lightened and he touched her nose as he had every morning since they began sleeping together. He grinned at the widening of her smile as he touched her. As he lay back down, he patted to the side of the bed.
She lid in next to him in their natural position, well practiced at cuddling in any location. She felt his breadth on her neck and felt the deep complacency that could only come from his touch. A small tear of joy dripped down the side of her face, landing on his arm which was curled around her.
He felt the tear touch his arm, and at once a fierce feeling of a need to protect her and shelter her from the world enveloped his mind, body and soul. He squeezed her tighter, and gently kissed the back of her neck.
The alarm rang loudly and they both looked at each other with a familiar resigned look. He rolled out of bed, dragging her by the arm. As they stood, he bent down and lightly kissed her on the mouth. Another smile emerged from her face, and she slowly made her way to the kitchen. He kept a light touch on her fingers as she slipped away, drinking in her form and reflecting on the kiss. He moved towards the washroom, but with practiced eased, glanced over his shoulder to see her do the same. She gave him a sly wink and smile as she disappeared around the corner.
He gave a wistful sigh, amazed with her presence in his life, ready to tackle another day | The grandfather clock quietly ticks away, counting endlessly. In comfortable silence Giovanni and Beatrice sit together, her face resting on his chest.
*dong dong*
2PM. She looks at him and smiles, revealing the dimples that only he could bring out.
A symphony of solitude. The ticking of the clock, a metronome. She could hear his heart beating in sync with the clock, the percussion to this masquerade of mediocrity. the purrs of their cat, why the stings of course!
*dong dong dong dong dong dong dong...* 7PM
Her eyes growing heavy from the day yet complete, Giovanni caresses her cheek as she slowly drifts to sleep. "Encore! Encore!" she silent thinks, as a tear forms in her eye this moment was perfect. away she went to dreamland.
Her eyes begin to open, while still in his arms. thankful for the life she was given. She peeks her head up to see what hes doing, looking back at her giving a soft, gentle smile.
*dong dong* 2PM
again her head rests upon his chest, his heartbeat the drum, the cat still the strings. This moment was perfect, preserved in her mind. Sounds like she got her Encore afterall..
(I would really like some feedback on this as it is still an early draft) | |
[WP] A married couple start another average morning on an average weekday. No one dies. No twist. Show their overwhelming love for each other without them speaking a single word. | He hit the snooze button. His legs weren't covered by the blanket anymore, as the wife was safely cuddled in most of it. Leaving the bed, he went to the bathroom and washed his face. Then he shaved, brushed his teeth and showered.
She woke up to an empty bed, and turned the alarm clock off. Groggily, she put on her robe and stumbled towards the kitchen. Started boiling some water, then regaining her footing a bit, she opened the door and brought the paper inside. She started chopping some salad with little in the way of salt. She brought out exactly a slice and a half of low cholesterol cheese, some lettuce and a tomato, the rye bread, and made a sandwich.
He found his clothing for the day organized in a neat stack, and got dressed. The smell of coffee from downstairs reached his nostrils. Cellphone in hand, then in pocket, he walked downstairs and hugged his wife from behind as she was busy slicing the edges of his sandwich. He kissed her behind the ear, and gave her a mild slap on her rear.
She let her husband take over in the kitchen and went to shower herself. Frowning at the few strands of grey hair that crept into her hair and tits that started sagging a bit despite never being too big, she shook her head and went to dress in jeans and a t-shirt. By the time she got downstairs, he had just put her plate with a cheese and mushroom omelette, sliced tomato, and some toast with the butter melting on it.
He started reading the paper while absentmindedly eating his healthy breakfast and drinking coffee. She listened to the nonsense on the morning radio while luxuriating on her favorite breakfast. His ride to work knocked on the door, so he kissed her. She didn't mind the crumbs in the corner of her mouth or that she forgot to brush her teeth. Neither did he.
After the door closed, moving towards his ride, he signaled everyone to wait a second and started back to his home. She was there, keys and wallet in hand, and a grumpy facade that never reached her smiling eyes. | The grandfather clock quietly ticks away, counting endlessly. In comfortable silence Giovanni and Beatrice sit together, her face resting on his chest.
*dong dong*
2PM. She looks at him and smiles, revealing the dimples that only he could bring out.
A symphony of solitude. The ticking of the clock, a metronome. She could hear his heart beating in sync with the clock, the percussion to this masquerade of mediocrity. the purrs of their cat, why the stings of course!
*dong dong dong dong dong dong dong...* 7PM
Her eyes growing heavy from the day yet complete, Giovanni caresses her cheek as she slowly drifts to sleep. "Encore! Encore!" she silent thinks, as a tear forms in her eye this moment was perfect. away she went to dreamland.
Her eyes begin to open, while still in his arms. thankful for the life she was given. She peeks her head up to see what hes doing, looking back at her giving a soft, gentle smile.
*dong dong* 2PM
again her head rests upon his chest, his heartbeat the drum, the cat still the strings. This moment was perfect, preserved in her mind. Sounds like she got her Encore afterall..
(I would really like some feedback on this as it is still an early draft) | |
[WP] A married couple start another average morning on an average weekday. No one dies. No twist. Show their overwhelming love for each other without them speaking a single word. | Alyson crawls out of bed and takes her bathrobe off the top of the chest of drawers, where she last left it. She has to wear her bathrobe while drinking her coffee, before hopping into the shower. She puts her bathrobe on, but then she takes it off again, and puts it back on, and off, repeating the process until she has put it on a full ten times. It always has to be ten times.
It wasn't her first such routine. Her first routine was with the light switch. It earned Alyson a number of beatings. Alyson had to learn to stay awake until her mother went to sleep so she could finish her routine. When her first boyfriend saw her shuffling her feet to step on cracks an equal number of times per foot, his friends all mocked her, and even mocked him until he joined in with them. When others find out about her little routines, all of her little quirks, they get angry with her, or make fun of her, or worse yet they simply avoid her. It seems nobody can understand her, and people hate and fear that which they don't understand.
This morning, every time she gets out of her bathrobe, Jake helps pull it off. When she gets back into it, Jake holds it up for her to slip in again. All ten times. | The grandfather clock quietly ticks away, counting endlessly. In comfortable silence Giovanni and Beatrice sit together, her face resting on his chest.
*dong dong*
2PM. She looks at him and smiles, revealing the dimples that only he could bring out.
A symphony of solitude. The ticking of the clock, a metronome. She could hear his heart beating in sync with the clock, the percussion to this masquerade of mediocrity. the purrs of their cat, why the stings of course!
*dong dong dong dong dong dong dong...* 7PM
Her eyes growing heavy from the day yet complete, Giovanni caresses her cheek as she slowly drifts to sleep. "Encore! Encore!" she silent thinks, as a tear forms in her eye this moment was perfect. away she went to dreamland.
Her eyes begin to open, while still in his arms. thankful for the life she was given. She peeks her head up to see what hes doing, looking back at her giving a soft, gentle smile.
*dong dong* 2PM
again her head rests upon his chest, his heartbeat the drum, the cat still the strings. This moment was perfect, preserved in her mind. Sounds like she got her Encore afterall..
(I would really like some feedback on this as it is still an early draft) | |
[WP] A married couple start another average morning on an average weekday. No one dies. No twist. Show their overwhelming love for each other without them speaking a single word. | The coffee grinder drowned out the sound of her shower. It's shrill scream breaking the silence of the house long before the sun broke through the windows of the kitchen.
Meticulously placing four and a half teaspoons of freshly ground beans into the bottom of the pot, he hurriedly shoved the pot onto the back burner of the stovetop, grabbed his lighter and strode out the back door and onto the deck.
Their home was small, but felt cavernous and deserted without the kids. Her parents had taken the two boys out of town for the weekend, but they still had one more day of work before the sweet sleep a childless Saturday morning would bring.
Maybe it'll rain he thought, moving a chair to the far left side of the back porch, hoping she couldn't hear him, and climbed up on it, peering into what was their bathroom window.
She was self-conscious. After ten years of marriage, two kids and life, she didn't feel like the bright, beautiful, bouncy young woman she had been when they met. Yet she had put on her sexiest lingerie last night, and they made love twice, and again before her shower.
She washed her hair and reveled in the feeling of him still inside her, mere moments ago, and he watched, like a teenaged boy spying on his gorgeous neighbor, and didn't step down from his perch until she stepped out of the shower.
Her coffee was ready before she was dry. So was he.
| The morning is chilly, her toes had been exposed all night and ached as she wiggled and stretched blood flow back into them. Amelia swings her feet over, placing them in her therapeutic slippers, her toes warming up as they nestle in the soft wool. Her full sized bed creaks as she stood, the pillows looking sad, lonely, cold in the frost bite of the morning. She longingly gazes at her bed, wishing to climb back in just for a bit longer but she can't. She leaves the bed unmade, someone will come through and correct her mess, it's usually her youngest daughter when she beings the grandkids for their daily visit. She can't worry about unmade beds or loss of sleep, she has her daily routine.
The rest of the house is warm, the heat from the air circulating hits her with a sting to her cold skin, the air duct in her bedroom was blocked so heat only slightly filtered into her bedroom. She shuffles through the short hall, her housecoat rustling as she moves. The door frame is low and open, a wall of 70's style beads are pushed away by her hands, her head poking through first as she steps into the den area.
The nurse is there, she hands her a plate of mushy eggs, toast cut small and some mashed banana. She exchanges a nod as the nurse gathers her things and leaves. A little smile crosses her lips as she looks at her, she smiles back, the years of age from her treatments showing in lines on her pretty face. Amelia kisses her wife's head then offers a spoonful of eggs as Shelly weakly sits up higher in her hospital bed. The low hum of equipment and bleep from machines is the symphony of their morning. Occasionally the clank of teeth to spoon as Shelly eats heartily, Amelia's stormy gray/blue eyes never leaving the chestnut brown of her wife's. Breakfast passes slowly, Amelia pushes her needs away to finish her task. Once breakfast is finished Amelia sits close to Shelly, a damp rag in hand. Clean up is quick since Shelly is a tidy eater. Amelia places little kisses on the corner of Shelly's mouth as Shelly lays a hand on Amelia's hand. This is the moment of awe, before the world speeds on and passes this bit of time by. They sit as close as possible, hands resting on each other faces so close the wisps of breath from Shelly's lips tickle Amelia's nose.
The sun rises, the curtains already pulled wide, the giant picture window sparkling in the first rays. It's only moments when the dome of the glowing orange/yellow orb appears, Shelly squeezes Amelia's hand. They watch the sun burst forth, the birth of the day, like every day. They both smile, they both push their heads together and delight in a new day, another day together. | |
[WP] A married couple start another average morning on an average weekday. No one dies. No twist. Show their overwhelming love for each other without them speaking a single word. | She smiled as she entered the room, her heart filling with a warmth that only came when she was around him. She went to open up the blinds and reflected on the time they had spent picking out blinds in the store and the silliness and fun they had doing something so mundane. She chuckled inwardly at how much fun they had no matter what they did, and turning to the bed she grinned at him as she woke him.
Groggily, he woke as the sun shined in through the window. He grumbled at the invasion of light, but as his eyes focused, he saw the love of his life, framed by the bright sunshine streaming through the window. His heart lightened and he touched her nose as he had every morning since they began sleeping together. He grinned at the widening of her smile as he touched her. As he lay back down, he patted to the side of the bed.
She lid in next to him in their natural position, well practiced at cuddling in any location. She felt his breadth on her neck and felt the deep complacency that could only come from his touch. A small tear of joy dripped down the side of her face, landing on his arm which was curled around her.
He felt the tear touch his arm, and at once a fierce feeling of a need to protect her and shelter her from the world enveloped his mind, body and soul. He squeezed her tighter, and gently kissed the back of her neck.
The alarm rang loudly and they both looked at each other with a familiar resigned look. He rolled out of bed, dragging her by the arm. As they stood, he bent down and lightly kissed her on the mouth. Another smile emerged from her face, and she slowly made her way to the kitchen. He kept a light touch on her fingers as she slipped away, drinking in her form and reflecting on the kiss. He moved towards the washroom, but with practiced eased, glanced over his shoulder to see her do the same. She gave him a sly wink and smile as she disappeared around the corner.
He gave a wistful sigh, amazed with her presence in his life, ready to tackle another day | The alarm goes off at 8 AM, just like it always does.
They had both been awake for the last hour, but They knew that the routine was to get out of bed when the alarm goes off so They just lay there, like They do every Breakfast is at 8:15, and even though the young orderly with the glasses offers every morning to push Her wheelchair to the dining hall He always does it himself.
They file into the hall along with the others, some on walkers, most in wheelchairs, a handful still managing bipedal movement along the buffet line. There’s a table in the corner where They always share Their meals. It’s only big enough to seat two. There once was a time where breakfast was all hustle and shouting,kids running out the door to catch the bus, Him cursing because He’d misplaced his briefcase. Now They sat across from one another and offered the occasional smile. They hardly ever break eye contact. He wonders how after all of these years She can still make him blush like a schoolboy with that devilish smirk She always
He pushes Her chair out to the porch, down the ramp, across the driveway, and into the park where They find Their bench which looks out over the hills. It’s nice place the kids had found for Them, it isn’t home, but it’s nice. At least They know They have this, watching the sun rise higher into the sky, as They sit in silence, hand in hand. Just like They always do. Just like They know They always will.
| |
[WP] A married couple start another average morning on an average weekday. No one dies. No twist. Show their overwhelming love for each other without them speaking a single word. | The music gently played in the background, waking Lilly up - they owned both the record and "mechanical contraption" that played it. "Mechanical contraption." That was what Loeb called it when he and Lilly went shopping for record players. That was in 1961, and still the thing played, its needle wobbling, struggling. An old ballad now played, The Flamingos' "I Only Have Eyes For You."
He chose that song on purpose. They danced to it fifty-years ago when they first met in the high school gymnasium. He'd been a nervous wreck, wiping his sweaty, clammy hands on the side of his pants. The girl was sitting alone (to Loeb's surprise - she was so beautiful), gently swaying in place, enjoying the song. He'd been eyeing her for an hour now, mentally repeating his lines over and over again ("Hi! I love this song! Wanna dance?" "Hi! Let's dance!" "Are you alone? Do you want to dance? I love this song!").
Loeb waited in the living room, listening to the song, filling him with such vivid nostalgia it almost hurt. He heard the shuffling of Lilly's slippers against the fraying carpet. Slowly, he turned around and saw the love of his life. Her once-brunette curls now whitening with such elegance. He, once illustrious with hair, now had a crown of snowy white flakes that she twirled whenever they laid in bed awake.
She made motions with her hands - the only way she knew how to communicate. And Loeb returned similar ones, although not as fluent as she had. He pointed at the record player and smiled. She knew the song. It took her back to that gym, thirty years ago, when no one asked her to dance. She didn't blame anyone. She knew how awkward it'd be to dance without saying something, anything - no one wanted to dance with the deaf girl. Which is why when this lanky boy with messy, uncombed hair came up to her, hands tied behind his back, nervously smiling and asking her out to dance, her heart leapt. She smiled and nodded, taking his hand. Together, they danced in silence to the song. She didn't know him, he didn't know her - but neither he nor she minded when Loeb brought her in closer or when Lilly laid her head on his shoulder.
And now, fifty years later, they still danced. He held her close; she smiled the same way when he asked her to dance that first time and laid her frail head on his bony shoulders. Together, they continued dancing. They always would. | The alarm goes off at 8 AM, just like it always does.
They had both been awake for the last hour, but They knew that the routine was to get out of bed when the alarm goes off so They just lay there, like They do every Breakfast is at 8:15, and even though the young orderly with the glasses offers every morning to push Her wheelchair to the dining hall He always does it himself.
They file into the hall along with the others, some on walkers, most in wheelchairs, a handful still managing bipedal movement along the buffet line. There’s a table in the corner where They always share Their meals. It’s only big enough to seat two. There once was a time where breakfast was all hustle and shouting,kids running out the door to catch the bus, Him cursing because He’d misplaced his briefcase. Now They sat across from one another and offered the occasional smile. They hardly ever break eye contact. He wonders how after all of these years She can still make him blush like a schoolboy with that devilish smirk She always
He pushes Her chair out to the porch, down the ramp, across the driveway, and into the park where They find Their bench which looks out over the hills. It’s nice place the kids had found for Them, it isn’t home, but it’s nice. At least They know They have this, watching the sun rise higher into the sky, as They sit in silence, hand in hand. Just like They always do. Just like They know They always will.
| |
[WP] A married couple start another average morning on an average weekday. No one dies. No twist. Show their overwhelming love for each other without them speaking a single word. | He hit the snooze button. His legs weren't covered by the blanket anymore, as the wife was safely cuddled in most of it. Leaving the bed, he went to the bathroom and washed his face. Then he shaved, brushed his teeth and showered.
She woke up to an empty bed, and turned the alarm clock off. Groggily, she put on her robe and stumbled towards the kitchen. Started boiling some water, then regaining her footing a bit, she opened the door and brought the paper inside. She started chopping some salad with little in the way of salt. She brought out exactly a slice and a half of low cholesterol cheese, some lettuce and a tomato, the rye bread, and made a sandwich.
He found his clothing for the day organized in a neat stack, and got dressed. The smell of coffee from downstairs reached his nostrils. Cellphone in hand, then in pocket, he walked downstairs and hugged his wife from behind as she was busy slicing the edges of his sandwich. He kissed her behind the ear, and gave her a mild slap on her rear.
She let her husband take over in the kitchen and went to shower herself. Frowning at the few strands of grey hair that crept into her hair and tits that started sagging a bit despite never being too big, she shook her head and went to dress in jeans and a t-shirt. By the time she got downstairs, he had just put her plate with a cheese and mushroom omelette, sliced tomato, and some toast with the butter melting on it.
He started reading the paper while absentmindedly eating his healthy breakfast and drinking coffee. She listened to the nonsense on the morning radio while luxuriating on her favorite breakfast. His ride to work knocked on the door, so he kissed her. She didn't mind the crumbs in the corner of her mouth or that she forgot to brush her teeth. Neither did he.
After the door closed, moving towards his ride, he signaled everyone to wait a second and started back to his home. She was there, keys and wallet in hand, and a grumpy facade that never reached her smiling eyes. | The alarm goes off at 8 AM, just like it always does.
They had both been awake for the last hour, but They knew that the routine was to get out of bed when the alarm goes off so They just lay there, like They do every Breakfast is at 8:15, and even though the young orderly with the glasses offers every morning to push Her wheelchair to the dining hall He always does it himself.
They file into the hall along with the others, some on walkers, most in wheelchairs, a handful still managing bipedal movement along the buffet line. There’s a table in the corner where They always share Their meals. It’s only big enough to seat two. There once was a time where breakfast was all hustle and shouting,kids running out the door to catch the bus, Him cursing because He’d misplaced his briefcase. Now They sat across from one another and offered the occasional smile. They hardly ever break eye contact. He wonders how after all of these years She can still make him blush like a schoolboy with that devilish smirk She always
He pushes Her chair out to the porch, down the ramp, across the driveway, and into the park where They find Their bench which looks out over the hills. It’s nice place the kids had found for Them, it isn’t home, but it’s nice. At least They know They have this, watching the sun rise higher into the sky, as They sit in silence, hand in hand. Just like They always do. Just like They know They always will.
| |
[WP] A married couple start another average morning on an average weekday. No one dies. No twist. Show their overwhelming love for each other without them speaking a single word. | Alyson crawls out of bed and takes her bathrobe off the top of the chest of drawers, where she last left it. She has to wear her bathrobe while drinking her coffee, before hopping into the shower. She puts her bathrobe on, but then she takes it off again, and puts it back on, and off, repeating the process until she has put it on a full ten times. It always has to be ten times.
It wasn't her first such routine. Her first routine was with the light switch. It earned Alyson a number of beatings. Alyson had to learn to stay awake until her mother went to sleep so she could finish her routine. When her first boyfriend saw her shuffling her feet to step on cracks an equal number of times per foot, his friends all mocked her, and even mocked him until he joined in with them. When others find out about her little routines, all of her little quirks, they get angry with her, or make fun of her, or worse yet they simply avoid her. It seems nobody can understand her, and people hate and fear that which they don't understand.
This morning, every time she gets out of her bathrobe, Jake helps pull it off. When she gets back into it, Jake holds it up for her to slip in again. All ten times. | The alarm goes off at 8 AM, just like it always does.
They had both been awake for the last hour, but They knew that the routine was to get out of bed when the alarm goes off so They just lay there, like They do every Breakfast is at 8:15, and even though the young orderly with the glasses offers every morning to push Her wheelchair to the dining hall He always does it himself.
They file into the hall along with the others, some on walkers, most in wheelchairs, a handful still managing bipedal movement along the buffet line. There’s a table in the corner where They always share Their meals. It’s only big enough to seat two. There once was a time where breakfast was all hustle and shouting,kids running out the door to catch the bus, Him cursing because He’d misplaced his briefcase. Now They sat across from one another and offered the occasional smile. They hardly ever break eye contact. He wonders how after all of these years She can still make him blush like a schoolboy with that devilish smirk She always
He pushes Her chair out to the porch, down the ramp, across the driveway, and into the park where They find Their bench which looks out over the hills. It’s nice place the kids had found for Them, it isn’t home, but it’s nice. At least They know They have this, watching the sun rise higher into the sky, as They sit in silence, hand in hand. Just like They always do. Just like They know They always will.
| |
[WP] A married couple start another average morning on an average weekday. No one dies. No twist. Show their overwhelming love for each other without them speaking a single word. | She cooked his breakfast as he dressed for work. She stops and listens to the new sounds of a new love.
He cooked her breakfast while she rested, belly swollen with new life.
They cooked together; for three, then four, now five.
They cooked together, alone again in a suddenly empty house.
He cooks her breakfast, while she waits for the thoughts that will no longer come to her. | The alarm goes off at 8 AM, just like it always does.
They had both been awake for the last hour, but They knew that the routine was to get out of bed when the alarm goes off so They just lay there, like They do every Breakfast is at 8:15, and even though the young orderly with the glasses offers every morning to push Her wheelchair to the dining hall He always does it himself.
They file into the hall along with the others, some on walkers, most in wheelchairs, a handful still managing bipedal movement along the buffet line. There’s a table in the corner where They always share Their meals. It’s only big enough to seat two. There once was a time where breakfast was all hustle and shouting,kids running out the door to catch the bus, Him cursing because He’d misplaced his briefcase. Now They sat across from one another and offered the occasional smile. They hardly ever break eye contact. He wonders how after all of these years She can still make him blush like a schoolboy with that devilish smirk She always
He pushes Her chair out to the porch, down the ramp, across the driveway, and into the park where They find Their bench which looks out over the hills. It’s nice place the kids had found for Them, it isn’t home, but it’s nice. At least They know They have this, watching the sun rise higher into the sky, as They sit in silence, hand in hand. Just like They always do. Just like They know They always will.
| |
[WP] A married couple start another average morning on an average weekday. No one dies. No twist. Show their overwhelming love for each other without them speaking a single word. | The music gently played in the background, waking Lilly up - they owned both the record and "mechanical contraption" that played it. "Mechanical contraption." That was what Loeb called it when he and Lilly went shopping for record players. That was in 1961, and still the thing played, its needle wobbling, struggling. An old ballad now played, The Flamingos' "I Only Have Eyes For You."
He chose that song on purpose. They danced to it fifty-years ago when they first met in the high school gymnasium. He'd been a nervous wreck, wiping his sweaty, clammy hands on the side of his pants. The girl was sitting alone (to Loeb's surprise - she was so beautiful), gently swaying in place, enjoying the song. He'd been eyeing her for an hour now, mentally repeating his lines over and over again ("Hi! I love this song! Wanna dance?" "Hi! Let's dance!" "Are you alone? Do you want to dance? I love this song!").
Loeb waited in the living room, listening to the song, filling him with such vivid nostalgia it almost hurt. He heard the shuffling of Lilly's slippers against the fraying carpet. Slowly, he turned around and saw the love of his life. Her once-brunette curls now whitening with such elegance. He, once illustrious with hair, now had a crown of snowy white flakes that she twirled whenever they laid in bed awake.
She made motions with her hands - the only way she knew how to communicate. And Loeb returned similar ones, although not as fluent as she had. He pointed at the record player and smiled. She knew the song. It took her back to that gym, thirty years ago, when no one asked her to dance. She didn't blame anyone. She knew how awkward it'd be to dance without saying something, anything - no one wanted to dance with the deaf girl. Which is why when this lanky boy with messy, uncombed hair came up to her, hands tied behind his back, nervously smiling and asking her out to dance, her heart leapt. She smiled and nodded, taking his hand. Together, they danced in silence to the song. She didn't know him, he didn't know her - but neither he nor she minded when Loeb brought her in closer or when Lilly laid her head on his shoulder.
And now, fifty years later, they still danced. He held her close; she smiled the same way when he asked her to dance that first time and laid her frail head on his bony shoulders. Together, they continued dancing. They always would. | Light on face: morning.
He puts his hand over hers,
She grabs it gently. | |
[WP] A married couple start another average morning on an average weekday. No one dies. No twist. Show their overwhelming love for each other without them speaking a single word. | He hit the snooze button. His legs weren't covered by the blanket anymore, as the wife was safely cuddled in most of it. Leaving the bed, he went to the bathroom and washed his face. Then he shaved, brushed his teeth and showered.
She woke up to an empty bed, and turned the alarm clock off. Groggily, she put on her robe and stumbled towards the kitchen. Started boiling some water, then regaining her footing a bit, she opened the door and brought the paper inside. She started chopping some salad with little in the way of salt. She brought out exactly a slice and a half of low cholesterol cheese, some lettuce and a tomato, the rye bread, and made a sandwich.
He found his clothing for the day organized in a neat stack, and got dressed. The smell of coffee from downstairs reached his nostrils. Cellphone in hand, then in pocket, he walked downstairs and hugged his wife from behind as she was busy slicing the edges of his sandwich. He kissed her behind the ear, and gave her a mild slap on her rear.
She let her husband take over in the kitchen and went to shower herself. Frowning at the few strands of grey hair that crept into her hair and tits that started sagging a bit despite never being too big, she shook her head and went to dress in jeans and a t-shirt. By the time she got downstairs, he had just put her plate with a cheese and mushroom omelette, sliced tomato, and some toast with the butter melting on it.
He started reading the paper while absentmindedly eating his healthy breakfast and drinking coffee. She listened to the nonsense on the morning radio while luxuriating on her favorite breakfast. His ride to work knocked on the door, so he kissed her. She didn't mind the crumbs in the corner of her mouth or that she forgot to brush her teeth. Neither did he.
After the door closed, moving towards his ride, he signaled everyone to wait a second and started back to his home. She was there, keys and wallet in hand, and a grumpy facade that never reached her smiling eyes. | Light on face: morning.
He puts his hand over hers,
She grabs it gently. | |
[WP] A married couple start another average morning on an average weekday. No one dies. No twist. Show their overwhelming love for each other without them speaking a single word. | Alyson crawls out of bed and takes her bathrobe off the top of the chest of drawers, where she last left it. She has to wear her bathrobe while drinking her coffee, before hopping into the shower. She puts her bathrobe on, but then she takes it off again, and puts it back on, and off, repeating the process until she has put it on a full ten times. It always has to be ten times.
It wasn't her first such routine. Her first routine was with the light switch. It earned Alyson a number of beatings. Alyson had to learn to stay awake until her mother went to sleep so she could finish her routine. When her first boyfriend saw her shuffling her feet to step on cracks an equal number of times per foot, his friends all mocked her, and even mocked him until he joined in with them. When others find out about her little routines, all of her little quirks, they get angry with her, or make fun of her, or worse yet they simply avoid her. It seems nobody can understand her, and people hate and fear that which they don't understand.
This morning, every time she gets out of her bathrobe, Jake helps pull it off. When she gets back into it, Jake holds it up for her to slip in again. All ten times. | Light on face: morning.
He puts his hand over hers,
She grabs it gently. | |
[WP] A married couple start another average morning on an average weekday. No one dies. No twist. Show their overwhelming love for each other without them speaking a single word. | She cooked his breakfast as he dressed for work. She stops and listens to the new sounds of a new love.
He cooked her breakfast while she rested, belly swollen with new life.
They cooked together; for three, then four, now five.
They cooked together, alone again in a suddenly empty house.
He cooks her breakfast, while she waits for the thoughts that will no longer come to her. | Light on face: morning.
He puts his hand over hers,
She grabs it gently. | |
[WP] A married couple start another average morning on an average weekday. No one dies. No twist. Show their overwhelming love for each other without them speaking a single word. | The music gently played in the background, waking Lilly up - they owned both the record and "mechanical contraption" that played it. "Mechanical contraption." That was what Loeb called it when he and Lilly went shopping for record players. That was in 1961, and still the thing played, its needle wobbling, struggling. An old ballad now played, The Flamingos' "I Only Have Eyes For You."
He chose that song on purpose. They danced to it fifty-years ago when they first met in the high school gymnasium. He'd been a nervous wreck, wiping his sweaty, clammy hands on the side of his pants. The girl was sitting alone (to Loeb's surprise - she was so beautiful), gently swaying in place, enjoying the song. He'd been eyeing her for an hour now, mentally repeating his lines over and over again ("Hi! I love this song! Wanna dance?" "Hi! Let's dance!" "Are you alone? Do you want to dance? I love this song!").
Loeb waited in the living room, listening to the song, filling him with such vivid nostalgia it almost hurt. He heard the shuffling of Lilly's slippers against the fraying carpet. Slowly, he turned around and saw the love of his life. Her once-brunette curls now whitening with such elegance. He, once illustrious with hair, now had a crown of snowy white flakes that she twirled whenever they laid in bed awake.
She made motions with her hands - the only way she knew how to communicate. And Loeb returned similar ones, although not as fluent as she had. He pointed at the record player and smiled. She knew the song. It took her back to that gym, thirty years ago, when no one asked her to dance. She didn't blame anyone. She knew how awkward it'd be to dance without saying something, anything - no one wanted to dance with the deaf girl. Which is why when this lanky boy with messy, uncombed hair came up to her, hands tied behind his back, nervously smiling and asking her out to dance, her heart leapt. She smiled and nodded, taking his hand. Together, they danced in silence to the song. She didn't know him, he didn't know her - but neither he nor she minded when Loeb brought her in closer or when Lilly laid her head on his shoulder.
And now, fifty years later, they still danced. He held her close; she smiled the same way when he asked her to dance that first time and laid her frail head on his bony shoulders. Together, they continued dancing. They always would. | It's six in the morning and Steven's subconscious starts to give into his daily routine. "Wake up and smell the roses", he thinks to himself. However, this morning is unlike any other. He peeks out the window to find his wife of seven years in the garden they sowed together. Marla is watering the flowers and at the same time deciding which avocados are ripe to pick for tonight's dinner. Unusual he thought, she's usually in the kitchen preparing breakfast and brewing coffee in the french press. He hops in the shower and puts on his work clothes-the conformed khakis and dress shirt and walks into the kitchen to find that breakfast is ready on the table.
Two servings of coffee, eggs, bacon and biscuits are ready to be eaten on the table,only when Marla walks in from the garden with a glowing smile and flowing black straightened hair sets down the avocados on the breakfast bar and walks up to Steve to rest her head on her husband's chest. What did we do last night he thought. Without thinking he holds Marla tightly and lowers his head and closes his eyes to take in her lovely fragrant hair. It's going to be a great day he thought. | |
[WP] A married couple start another average morning on an average weekday. No one dies. No twist. Show their overwhelming love for each other without them speaking a single word. | He hit the snooze button. His legs weren't covered by the blanket anymore, as the wife was safely cuddled in most of it. Leaving the bed, he went to the bathroom and washed his face. Then he shaved, brushed his teeth and showered.
She woke up to an empty bed, and turned the alarm clock off. Groggily, she put on her robe and stumbled towards the kitchen. Started boiling some water, then regaining her footing a bit, she opened the door and brought the paper inside. She started chopping some salad with little in the way of salt. She brought out exactly a slice and a half of low cholesterol cheese, some lettuce and a tomato, the rye bread, and made a sandwich.
He found his clothing for the day organized in a neat stack, and got dressed. The smell of coffee from downstairs reached his nostrils. Cellphone in hand, then in pocket, he walked downstairs and hugged his wife from behind as she was busy slicing the edges of his sandwich. He kissed her behind the ear, and gave her a mild slap on her rear.
She let her husband take over in the kitchen and went to shower herself. Frowning at the few strands of grey hair that crept into her hair and tits that started sagging a bit despite never being too big, she shook her head and went to dress in jeans and a t-shirt. By the time she got downstairs, he had just put her plate with a cheese and mushroom omelette, sliced tomato, and some toast with the butter melting on it.
He started reading the paper while absentmindedly eating his healthy breakfast and drinking coffee. She listened to the nonsense on the morning radio while luxuriating on her favorite breakfast. His ride to work knocked on the door, so he kissed her. She didn't mind the crumbs in the corner of her mouth or that she forgot to brush her teeth. Neither did he.
After the door closed, moving towards his ride, he signaled everyone to wait a second and started back to his home. She was there, keys and wallet in hand, and a grumpy facade that never reached her smiling eyes. | It's six in the morning and Steven's subconscious starts to give into his daily routine. "Wake up and smell the roses", he thinks to himself. However, this morning is unlike any other. He peeks out the window to find his wife of seven years in the garden they sowed together. Marla is watering the flowers and at the same time deciding which avocados are ripe to pick for tonight's dinner. Unusual he thought, she's usually in the kitchen preparing breakfast and brewing coffee in the french press. He hops in the shower and puts on his work clothes-the conformed khakis and dress shirt and walks into the kitchen to find that breakfast is ready on the table.
Two servings of coffee, eggs, bacon and biscuits are ready to be eaten on the table,only when Marla walks in from the garden with a glowing smile and flowing black straightened hair sets down the avocados on the breakfast bar and walks up to Steve to rest her head on her husband's chest. What did we do last night he thought. Without thinking he holds Marla tightly and lowers his head and closes his eyes to take in her lovely fragrant hair. It's going to be a great day he thought. | |
[WP] A married couple start another average morning on an average weekday. No one dies. No twist. Show their overwhelming love for each other without them speaking a single word. | Alyson crawls out of bed and takes her bathrobe off the top of the chest of drawers, where she last left it. She has to wear her bathrobe while drinking her coffee, before hopping into the shower. She puts her bathrobe on, but then she takes it off again, and puts it back on, and off, repeating the process until she has put it on a full ten times. It always has to be ten times.
It wasn't her first such routine. Her first routine was with the light switch. It earned Alyson a number of beatings. Alyson had to learn to stay awake until her mother went to sleep so she could finish her routine. When her first boyfriend saw her shuffling her feet to step on cracks an equal number of times per foot, his friends all mocked her, and even mocked him until he joined in with them. When others find out about her little routines, all of her little quirks, they get angry with her, or make fun of her, or worse yet they simply avoid her. It seems nobody can understand her, and people hate and fear that which they don't understand.
This morning, every time she gets out of her bathrobe, Jake helps pull it off. When she gets back into it, Jake holds it up for her to slip in again. All ten times. | It's six in the morning and Steven's subconscious starts to give into his daily routine. "Wake up and smell the roses", he thinks to himself. However, this morning is unlike any other. He peeks out the window to find his wife of seven years in the garden they sowed together. Marla is watering the flowers and at the same time deciding which avocados are ripe to pick for tonight's dinner. Unusual he thought, she's usually in the kitchen preparing breakfast and brewing coffee in the french press. He hops in the shower and puts on his work clothes-the conformed khakis and dress shirt and walks into the kitchen to find that breakfast is ready on the table.
Two servings of coffee, eggs, bacon and biscuits are ready to be eaten on the table,only when Marla walks in from the garden with a glowing smile and flowing black straightened hair sets down the avocados on the breakfast bar and walks up to Steve to rest her head on her husband's chest. What did we do last night he thought. Without thinking he holds Marla tightly and lowers his head and closes his eyes to take in her lovely fragrant hair. It's going to be a great day he thought. | |
[WP] A married couple start another average morning on an average weekday. No one dies. No twist. Show their overwhelming love for each other without them speaking a single word. | It hardly felt like seconds since Jack had fallen asleep, but then, such is the nature of sleep. Death, in a similar vein, might very well fast-forward us to the end of infinity, but who's to say what's in between? It was just a theory. Jack turned to his side, and saw that the digital clock read "5:57".
This was the third day in a row now that Jack had awoken within minutes of the alarm clock ringing. He was on a roll. On the pillow beside him, the long sandy-brown hair of his wife, Rebecca, lay in shambles. So as not to have her sleep disturbed by the alarm clock, Jack reached over her to the alarm clock on the other side and switched it off. As he lingered over her body, he reached down with his hand and softly brushed some of her hair away, revealing her delicate face beneath. Even in sleep, this woman was absolutely beautiful to him.
He lowered his lips to her and planted a row of tiny kisses along her temple. A soft moan escaped her lips. Jack retreated, hoping he hadn't disturbed her. He suddenly wanted to kick himself, remembering how she had been up the previous night until 11:30 grading papers. Bless her heart, she had to have been so tired.
Rebecca wasn't angry, though. She took in a deep breath, stretching and yawning as Jack sat up in the bed next to her. She sat up beside him, brushing her pretty hair out of her face to look at him. His beard looked especially irresistible this morning. She leaned in and nuzzled up into it, bringing her arms up and around his strong torso. Jack felt the aching desire billowing inside of him like a thick smoke. He reached around and pulled her toward him as they proceeded to have a little morning make-out. They sat in silence for a few minutes, just basking in each others' warmth.
Jack gave "the signal", making a small "O" with his thumb and forefinger, which had become the couple's standard way of letting each other know that they were okay. Rebecca smiled in return, making an "O" of her own. Watching a smile come over this girl's face was akin to watching a flower bloom to life in the spring. She hadn't the slightest clue what tremors she could cause in a man with that smile.
After the requisite showering and dressing, Jack stood before the blender in the kitchen, preparing a couple of fruit smoothies for the two of them. A smile came slowly to his face as he could hear the sound of her heels lightly clacking against the tile floor. It always gave her away, even though he wouldn't say any such thing. Jack's back arched as he felt her warmth directly behind him. She slipped her hands into the front pockets of his blue jeans and rested her head on his left shoulder. She smelled so good.
He reached down, taking her hands into his and spinning around to greet her. She was wearing her pink, poofy dress shirt, buttoned all the way up with a bowtie, and tucked into a shimmering dark purple skirt, black leggings and of course her usual high-heeled mary janes. There really were no words that could describe how rapturously gorgeous she looked. He gave her two thumbs up, smiling. She blushed, as usual, which made her even more stunning, as if that were even humanly possible.
He poured the smoothies and handed one to her. They stepped out onto an outside balcony together. The sun was just beginning to rise. Rebecca rested her head on his shoulder and sighed. Jack put his arm around his beautiful wife. He couldn't wait to show her her anniversary gift. The anticipation surged through the both of them, knowing what was coming tonight.
They had each given each other two of the happiest years of their lives, but for now, it was just a matter of getting through the next 8 hours so they could continue their wonderful story. | It's six in the morning and Steven's subconscious starts to give into his daily routine. "Wake up and smell the roses", he thinks to himself. However, this morning is unlike any other. He peeks out the window to find his wife of seven years in the garden they sowed together. Marla is watering the flowers and at the same time deciding which avocados are ripe to pick for tonight's dinner. Unusual he thought, she's usually in the kitchen preparing breakfast and brewing coffee in the french press. He hops in the shower and puts on his work clothes-the conformed khakis and dress shirt and walks into the kitchen to find that breakfast is ready on the table.
Two servings of coffee, eggs, bacon and biscuits are ready to be eaten on the table,only when Marla walks in from the garden with a glowing smile and flowing black straightened hair sets down the avocados on the breakfast bar and walks up to Steve to rest her head on her husband's chest. What did we do last night he thought. Without thinking he holds Marla tightly and lowers his head and closes his eyes to take in her lovely fragrant hair. It's going to be a great day he thought. | |
[WP] A married couple start another average morning on an average weekday. No one dies. No twist. Show their overwhelming love for each other without them speaking a single word. | She cooked his breakfast as he dressed for work. She stops and listens to the new sounds of a new love.
He cooked her breakfast while she rested, belly swollen with new life.
They cooked together; for three, then four, now five.
They cooked together, alone again in a suddenly empty house.
He cooks her breakfast, while she waits for the thoughts that will no longer come to her. | It's six in the morning and Steven's subconscious starts to give into his daily routine. "Wake up and smell the roses", he thinks to himself. However, this morning is unlike any other. He peeks out the window to find his wife of seven years in the garden they sowed together. Marla is watering the flowers and at the same time deciding which avocados are ripe to pick for tonight's dinner. Unusual he thought, she's usually in the kitchen preparing breakfast and brewing coffee in the french press. He hops in the shower and puts on his work clothes-the conformed khakis and dress shirt and walks into the kitchen to find that breakfast is ready on the table.
Two servings of coffee, eggs, bacon and biscuits are ready to be eaten on the table,only when Marla walks in from the garden with a glowing smile and flowing black straightened hair sets down the avocados on the breakfast bar and walks up to Steve to rest her head on her husband's chest. What did we do last night he thought. Without thinking he holds Marla tightly and lowers his head and closes his eyes to take in her lovely fragrant hair. It's going to be a great day he thought. | |
[WP] A married couple start another average morning on an average weekday. No one dies. No twist. Show their overwhelming love for each other without them speaking a single word. | He hit the snooze button. His legs weren't covered by the blanket anymore, as the wife was safely cuddled in most of it. Leaving the bed, he went to the bathroom and washed his face. Then he shaved, brushed his teeth and showered.
She woke up to an empty bed, and turned the alarm clock off. Groggily, she put on her robe and stumbled towards the kitchen. Started boiling some water, then regaining her footing a bit, she opened the door and brought the paper inside. She started chopping some salad with little in the way of salt. She brought out exactly a slice and a half of low cholesterol cheese, some lettuce and a tomato, the rye bread, and made a sandwich.
He found his clothing for the day organized in a neat stack, and got dressed. The smell of coffee from downstairs reached his nostrils. Cellphone in hand, then in pocket, he walked downstairs and hugged his wife from behind as she was busy slicing the edges of his sandwich. He kissed her behind the ear, and gave her a mild slap on her rear.
She let her husband take over in the kitchen and went to shower herself. Frowning at the few strands of grey hair that crept into her hair and tits that started sagging a bit despite never being too big, she shook her head and went to dress in jeans and a t-shirt. By the time she got downstairs, he had just put her plate with a cheese and mushroom omelette, sliced tomato, and some toast with the butter melting on it.
He started reading the paper while absentmindedly eating his healthy breakfast and drinking coffee. She listened to the nonsense on the morning radio while luxuriating on her favorite breakfast. His ride to work knocked on the door, so he kissed her. She didn't mind the crumbs in the corner of her mouth or that she forgot to brush her teeth. Neither did he.
After the door closed, moving towards his ride, he signaled everyone to wait a second and started back to his home. She was there, keys and wallet in hand, and a grumpy facade that never reached her smiling eyes. | The music gently played in the background, waking Lilly up - they owned both the record and "mechanical contraption" that played it. "Mechanical contraption." That was what Loeb called it when he and Lilly went shopping for record players. That was in 1961, and still the thing played, its needle wobbling, struggling. An old ballad now played, The Flamingos' "I Only Have Eyes For You."
He chose that song on purpose. They danced to it fifty-years ago when they first met in the high school gymnasium. He'd been a nervous wreck, wiping his sweaty, clammy hands on the side of his pants. The girl was sitting alone (to Loeb's surprise - she was so beautiful), gently swaying in place, enjoying the song. He'd been eyeing her for an hour now, mentally repeating his lines over and over again ("Hi! I love this song! Wanna dance?" "Hi! Let's dance!" "Are you alone? Do you want to dance? I love this song!").
Loeb waited in the living room, listening to the song, filling him with such vivid nostalgia it almost hurt. He heard the shuffling of Lilly's slippers against the fraying carpet. Slowly, he turned around and saw the love of his life. Her once-brunette curls now whitening with such elegance. He, once illustrious with hair, now had a crown of snowy white flakes that she twirled whenever they laid in bed awake.
She made motions with her hands - the only way she knew how to communicate. And Loeb returned similar ones, although not as fluent as she had. He pointed at the record player and smiled. She knew the song. It took her back to that gym, thirty years ago, when no one asked her to dance. She didn't blame anyone. She knew how awkward it'd be to dance without saying something, anything - no one wanted to dance with the deaf girl. Which is why when this lanky boy with messy, uncombed hair came up to her, hands tied behind his back, nervously smiling and asking her out to dance, her heart leapt. She smiled and nodded, taking his hand. Together, they danced in silence to the song. She didn't know him, he didn't know her - but neither he nor she minded when Loeb brought her in closer or when Lilly laid her head on his shoulder.
And now, fifty years later, they still danced. He held her close; she smiled the same way when he asked her to dance that first time and laid her frail head on his bony shoulders. Together, they continued dancing. They always would. | |
[WP] A married couple start another average morning on an average weekday. No one dies. No twist. Show their overwhelming love for each other without them speaking a single word. | Alyson crawls out of bed and takes her bathrobe off the top of the chest of drawers, where she last left it. She has to wear her bathrobe while drinking her coffee, before hopping into the shower. She puts her bathrobe on, but then she takes it off again, and puts it back on, and off, repeating the process until she has put it on a full ten times. It always has to be ten times.
It wasn't her first such routine. Her first routine was with the light switch. It earned Alyson a number of beatings. Alyson had to learn to stay awake until her mother went to sleep so she could finish her routine. When her first boyfriend saw her shuffling her feet to step on cracks an equal number of times per foot, his friends all mocked her, and even mocked him until he joined in with them. When others find out about her little routines, all of her little quirks, they get angry with her, or make fun of her, or worse yet they simply avoid her. It seems nobody can understand her, and people hate and fear that which they don't understand.
This morning, every time she gets out of her bathrobe, Jake helps pull it off. When she gets back into it, Jake holds it up for her to slip in again. All ten times. | The music gently played in the background, waking Lilly up - they owned both the record and "mechanical contraption" that played it. "Mechanical contraption." That was what Loeb called it when he and Lilly went shopping for record players. That was in 1961, and still the thing played, its needle wobbling, struggling. An old ballad now played, The Flamingos' "I Only Have Eyes For You."
He chose that song on purpose. They danced to it fifty-years ago when they first met in the high school gymnasium. He'd been a nervous wreck, wiping his sweaty, clammy hands on the side of his pants. The girl was sitting alone (to Loeb's surprise - she was so beautiful), gently swaying in place, enjoying the song. He'd been eyeing her for an hour now, mentally repeating his lines over and over again ("Hi! I love this song! Wanna dance?" "Hi! Let's dance!" "Are you alone? Do you want to dance? I love this song!").
Loeb waited in the living room, listening to the song, filling him with such vivid nostalgia it almost hurt. He heard the shuffling of Lilly's slippers against the fraying carpet. Slowly, he turned around and saw the love of his life. Her once-brunette curls now whitening with such elegance. He, once illustrious with hair, now had a crown of snowy white flakes that she twirled whenever they laid in bed awake.
She made motions with her hands - the only way she knew how to communicate. And Loeb returned similar ones, although not as fluent as she had. He pointed at the record player and smiled. She knew the song. It took her back to that gym, thirty years ago, when no one asked her to dance. She didn't blame anyone. She knew how awkward it'd be to dance without saying something, anything - no one wanted to dance with the deaf girl. Which is why when this lanky boy with messy, uncombed hair came up to her, hands tied behind his back, nervously smiling and asking her out to dance, her heart leapt. She smiled and nodded, taking his hand. Together, they danced in silence to the song. She didn't know him, he didn't know her - but neither he nor she minded when Loeb brought her in closer or when Lilly laid her head on his shoulder.
And now, fifty years later, they still danced. He held her close; she smiled the same way when he asked her to dance that first time and laid her frail head on his bony shoulders. Together, they continued dancing. They always would. | |
[WP] A married couple start another average morning on an average weekday. No one dies. No twist. Show their overwhelming love for each other without them speaking a single word. | She cooked his breakfast as he dressed for work. She stops and listens to the new sounds of a new love.
He cooked her breakfast while she rested, belly swollen with new life.
They cooked together; for three, then four, now five.
They cooked together, alone again in a suddenly empty house.
He cooks her breakfast, while she waits for the thoughts that will no longer come to her. | It hardly felt like seconds since Jack had fallen asleep, but then, such is the nature of sleep. Death, in a similar vein, might very well fast-forward us to the end of infinity, but who's to say what's in between? It was just a theory. Jack turned to his side, and saw that the digital clock read "5:57".
This was the third day in a row now that Jack had awoken within minutes of the alarm clock ringing. He was on a roll. On the pillow beside him, the long sandy-brown hair of his wife, Rebecca, lay in shambles. So as not to have her sleep disturbed by the alarm clock, Jack reached over her to the alarm clock on the other side and switched it off. As he lingered over her body, he reached down with his hand and softly brushed some of her hair away, revealing her delicate face beneath. Even in sleep, this woman was absolutely beautiful to him.
He lowered his lips to her and planted a row of tiny kisses along her temple. A soft moan escaped her lips. Jack retreated, hoping he hadn't disturbed her. He suddenly wanted to kick himself, remembering how she had been up the previous night until 11:30 grading papers. Bless her heart, she had to have been so tired.
Rebecca wasn't angry, though. She took in a deep breath, stretching and yawning as Jack sat up in the bed next to her. She sat up beside him, brushing her pretty hair out of her face to look at him. His beard looked especially irresistible this morning. She leaned in and nuzzled up into it, bringing her arms up and around his strong torso. Jack felt the aching desire billowing inside of him like a thick smoke. He reached around and pulled her toward him as they proceeded to have a little morning make-out. They sat in silence for a few minutes, just basking in each others' warmth.
Jack gave "the signal", making a small "O" with his thumb and forefinger, which had become the couple's standard way of letting each other know that they were okay. Rebecca smiled in return, making an "O" of her own. Watching a smile come over this girl's face was akin to watching a flower bloom to life in the spring. She hadn't the slightest clue what tremors she could cause in a man with that smile.
After the requisite showering and dressing, Jack stood before the blender in the kitchen, preparing a couple of fruit smoothies for the two of them. A smile came slowly to his face as he could hear the sound of her heels lightly clacking against the tile floor. It always gave her away, even though he wouldn't say any such thing. Jack's back arched as he felt her warmth directly behind him. She slipped her hands into the front pockets of his blue jeans and rested her head on his left shoulder. She smelled so good.
He reached down, taking her hands into his and spinning around to greet her. She was wearing her pink, poofy dress shirt, buttoned all the way up with a bowtie, and tucked into a shimmering dark purple skirt, black leggings and of course her usual high-heeled mary janes. There really were no words that could describe how rapturously gorgeous she looked. He gave her two thumbs up, smiling. She blushed, as usual, which made her even more stunning, as if that were even humanly possible.
He poured the smoothies and handed one to her. They stepped out onto an outside balcony together. The sun was just beginning to rise. Rebecca rested her head on his shoulder and sighed. Jack put his arm around his beautiful wife. He couldn't wait to show her her anniversary gift. The anticipation surged through the both of them, knowing what was coming tonight.
They had each given each other two of the happiest years of their lives, but for now, it was just a matter of getting through the next 8 hours so they could continue their wonderful story. | |
[WP] A married couple start another average morning on an average weekday. No one dies. No twist. Show their overwhelming love for each other without them speaking a single word. | She cooked his breakfast as he dressed for work. She stops and listens to the new sounds of a new love.
He cooked her breakfast while she rested, belly swollen with new life.
They cooked together; for three, then four, now five.
They cooked together, alone again in a suddenly empty house.
He cooks her breakfast, while she waits for the thoughts that will no longer come to her. | She sat up, bolt upright, and began to stretch like a flower reaching towards the sun. He laughed, and pulled his feet in towards his curled body, then pushed them against the warmth of her back. She let out a startled shriek at the sudden cold, then gave him a smile. She was always so much more awake than he was in the mornings, and he loved that. As she rose out of bed, and moved towards the bathroom to take a shower, he rolled over onto her side of the bed. It was still warm, and he could smell the trace of her lotion, was it lavender or orchid?
He heard the shower running, and lazily made the bed, with the sheets folded over the way she always liked it. He had to get to work, and he knew she would take a long time in the shower, so he set out her slippers. The ones he had gotten her for their 5th wedding anniversary. She complained that they were getting frayed, and yet she continued to wear them every morning. He rushed to get dressed, but it was so much easier because she had matched his socks and folded his shirts last night after he drifted to sleep. He made his way to the kitchen, and grabbed the lunch she had prepared for him. It was a Tuesday, after all, and on Tuesdays she made the lunches.
He walked to his car, still smelling a bit like lavender, and opened up the lunch box to read the note. He was supposed to wait until lunch time but he could never quite do it. It had only 6 letters, written in her girlish scrawl. SHMILY. See how much I love you. | |
Either a hero that you make up, or an established one | [WP] Please describe a superhero's zany shenanigans as he tries to hide his secret super identity from his girlfriend after they move in together. | >Not exactly moving in, but close enough. Enjoy.
"Master Wayne! Master Wayne!" Walter rushed to Bruce's side. "There has been a breach in security!" Bruce stopped dead in his tracks.
"Who?"
"Well... erm... remember that lady you left at the party?"
"Yes..."
"Well... she broke into your closet."
"She... she found the batsuit?"
"The *early prototype* batsuit, sir." Walter shifted his gaze. "The... erm... fuzzy one."
"The one from Micheal's Mascots?" Walter nodded. "Walter, what did you tell her?" Walter averted his haze. Bruce grabbed Walter by the lapels and shook him. "Answer me, Walter!"
"I... I...." Walter seemed to choke. "I told her you were a furry!" His voice echoed through the hall as he half-sobbed, half-yelled. "I told her that you found comfort in fuzzy things after your parents died!" Walter fell to his knees and grabbed Bruce's leg. "Oh please, *pleeeease* forgive me si-ir!" He sobbed.
"Did she believe it?"
"Y-yes..." Bruce patted Walter on the head.
"It's alright Walter," said Bruce. "It's alright." He suddenly stopped. "Did he see my pictures of Cat Woman?" Walter wailed and dug his face into Bruce's thigh. "Walter!"
"I TOLD HER IT WAS YOUR FETISH!" The echo seemed to last for hours. For the first time in his life, Bruce facepalmed. "I AM SO SORRY MASTER WAYNE!"
"Is she still up there?"
"N...no..."
"Where did she go?"
"She said she was getting something to... to..."
"To what? Walter *to what!?*"
The doorbell rang. Walter and Bruce stared at each other for a moment, before they sprung into action. Walter rushed to the door, and Bruce ran into the parlor. *God dammit Walter!* Bruce grabbed a newspaper and sat down in his chair. *What am I going to say? What am I going to do?* He turned the page.
*Where can I find another butler?* | With his body invisible to human eyes, but unable to risk leaving his position, Phantom man wishes he could walk through walls. The irony is not lost to him.
The force that holds our hero captive is none other than the young and vivacious Laura Scott. As she dances energetically across their bedroom floor she sings, in her melodious voice.
"... It's a revolution I suppose..."
*This siren will be my undoing.* He thinks. *And yet I love her so.* Phantom man was just returning from accomplishing another good deed when he was cornered, changing into civilian clothes, by his girlfriend returning prematurely from work.
Only his lightning reflexes allowed him to throw his tight black shirt into the wash pile and vanish before she caught sight of him in a very incriminating position. Now, he stands as close to the wall he can, hoping to avoid detection.
Laura's dance number sends her twirling through the air, swinging from side to side and launching herself across the room. Phantom man cannot hope to cross the floor without being detected.
The window is nearby, he could have tried to climb out but Laura loves wind chimes, the air beyond the window sill is made intractable by a multitude of steel, aluminium, and bamboo rods. The wind is still today, a silent exit is impossible.
He could have tried calling her phone to draw her into another room but her phone is currently playing the music fueling her dance number.
He would have climbed under the bed, finished changing, and perhaps pretended his intention was to surprised her with plans for a romantic evening out. However, practically minded Laura had turned the space under their bed into a highly organized and well packed storage space.
Phantom man started to despair.
*She has stamina to rival any opponents I have faced as of yet.* He marvels. *Surely, had Nefazoth the Jailer made use of her talents our confrontation would have ended differently.*
With all possibilities exhausted, our hero must wait, hoping that an opening will present itself before his powers reach their limit and Laura finds herself suddenly in the presence of a man clad only in tight black pants and an matching face-mask. Not only will his identity be revealed; he feels he will have to explain some rather awkward situations. Situations that would be impossible to explain, but for the presence of an invisible man.
Audible sneezes occurring when Laura swore she was alone in the shower, leaf piles raked tall and high onto the neighbors lawn despite no one being seen doing so, feces from unruly dogs, always showing up on the neighbors' lawn and steps but never on their own.
Phantom man has rarely been in such a bind but, trapped in an inescapable bind, he is only moments away from finding himself having a lot of explaining to do. |
Either a hero that you make up, or an established one | [WP] Please describe a superhero's zany shenanigans as he tries to hide his secret super identity from his girlfriend after they move in together. | >Not exactly moving in, but close enough. Enjoy.
"Master Wayne! Master Wayne!" Walter rushed to Bruce's side. "There has been a breach in security!" Bruce stopped dead in his tracks.
"Who?"
"Well... erm... remember that lady you left at the party?"
"Yes..."
"Well... she broke into your closet."
"She... she found the batsuit?"
"The *early prototype* batsuit, sir." Walter shifted his gaze. "The... erm... fuzzy one."
"The one from Micheal's Mascots?" Walter nodded. "Walter, what did you tell her?" Walter averted his haze. Bruce grabbed Walter by the lapels and shook him. "Answer me, Walter!"
"I... I...." Walter seemed to choke. "I told her you were a furry!" His voice echoed through the hall as he half-sobbed, half-yelled. "I told her that you found comfort in fuzzy things after your parents died!" Walter fell to his knees and grabbed Bruce's leg. "Oh please, *pleeeease* forgive me si-ir!" He sobbed.
"Did she believe it?"
"Y-yes..." Bruce patted Walter on the head.
"It's alright Walter," said Bruce. "It's alright." He suddenly stopped. "Did he see my pictures of Cat Woman?" Walter wailed and dug his face into Bruce's thigh. "Walter!"
"I TOLD HER IT WAS YOUR FETISH!" The echo seemed to last for hours. For the first time in his life, Bruce facepalmed. "I AM SO SORRY MASTER WAYNE!"
"Is she still up there?"
"N...no..."
"Where did she go?"
"She said she was getting something to... to..."
"To what? Walter *to what!?*"
The doorbell rang. Walter and Bruce stared at each other for a moment, before they sprung into action. Walter rushed to the door, and Bruce ran into the parlor. *God dammit Walter!* Bruce grabbed a newspaper and sat down in his chair. *What am I going to say? What am I going to do?* He turned the page.
*Where can I find another butler?* | Without knocking, she walks in. Early. Its 2 and work doesn't get out until 2:30. I give one more flex to the mirror. I take my mask off as she walks in.
"Jim, why are you wearing your Halloween costume?"
"Well I was thinking about some role play, pretty lady." I make a swift step towards her and put her chin in my hand.
"The last thing I want in my head during that is you in those tights again, Jim." She laughs. "And I wish you'd get rid of that thing already, are you gonna wear it next year too?"
Before I can talk, a police car zooms down main street passing our condo.
I look at her. I look out the window, then back at her.
"What, Jim!?"
I take a hard look out the window before speaking.
"I wonder if everyone's... OK." With the smoothest tone of voice on OK. Superheros always sound smooth.
"Who cares Jim?" She almost sounds mad at me for caring.
"Its a small town honey-bun." I say. "The police force isn't the biggest and if it's something big they may need help."
"Its probably nothing dear. I love how caring you are but there's nothing you can really do."
I laugh in my head. I'm Beefcake-Boy, of course I can help. She looks down at her phone and I give a quick flex at the mirror. I make my way back towards the window upon hearing faint sirens. I give a double-take at her to make sure she isn't paying attention.
"Jim, I had a long day at work. It was slow. Can you just come to bed and watch some TV with me? Oh, and get out of those tights."
As I'm making my way out of the bathroom from changing I notice a handsome man in the mirror. Then I realize its just me. A quick flex and I'm out into our bedroom.
"There's not much on Wednesday nights." She says while flipping through the channels. Then, she stops on the local news.
"This just in, local elementary school sets fire while kids are locked inside."
Jitters erupt from my body. My hands are clammy as I keep my head straight only moving my eyes to the right to see if she notices. "We're also getting the report that a gunman is inside with the children, along with a wild lion." I glance over at the window quickly. "Were also hearing from an unconfirmed source that an airplane has been highjacked, and is said to be heading towards the school."
I spring out of bed, standing tall. "I can't take this anymore, cherry pie." She give me a look of craze.
"Take what? You don't want me living with you?"
"It's not that. Sugar plum I have to tell you something." She gives me a look of sadness now. "I. I-"
"You what?" I tear off my shirt to expose that my green and blue tights are still on. "Baby, I'm Beefcake-Boy. The world needs my help." I lift a leg towards the window and smash through the glass with my foot. While sitting in the windowsill, one leg in, one out, I look back at her: "You'll understand one day." I blow her a kiss and give her a flex.
"Oh Beefcake-boy, you make me melt!" Not another word is said as I bring my other half through the window and run down the street. |
[WP] You are a super hero with a respectable power. However, the tiresome pressure to always be good wears on you and you slowly become a villain. The only person who notices is your side kick who is not ready to stop you. How does the confrontation end? | I sat on a high backed chair in a darkened room, the only light coming from a wall full of computer screens. Though the bright light of the monitors didn’t show it, the wall behind me was covered in posters from graphic novels and comics. It was hilariously topical, I always thought, to have a wall devoted to the original ‘supers’.
In a similarly hilarious event, I gained my power of time warp. I could perceive time in differently than normal humans, it traveled slower for me when I wished, and I could interact at a speed I would perceive as normal. All thanks to a barrel full of chemicals from a military convoy that spilled over me in a freak accident on the way to work.
The people called me many things, Timecop, Clock Man, Glocken. I always preferred Kronos, and wore an outfit that always called back to that original Titan, The father of all the gods of the greek pantheon. I was in that very same outfit watching the city through the cameras, like an all powerful Big Brother.
Karen Walls, better known as R. Hood entered the room and stood in a relaxed pose, waiting for me to give an order, as always dressed in a red hood and armed with a bow. I held up a finger for one last quick scan of the screen and noticed a crime.
“42nd street, just off the corner of 21st.” I informed her as we walked to the ‘Time Machine’. Not the best name for a Mustang, but Heroes had to be funny every now and again, so it was an easy compromise.
“What’s the crime?” Hood asked, checking her hip mounted quiver of arrows.
“Murder, Mugging, Rape.” I said grimly. I couldn’t save the man, but I could avenge him. We drove to the spot in under a minute, non-warped time. “Hood, to the roof. Find her.” I ordered, and like a good soldier she nodded and climbed to the top.
I walked at a brisk pace, saving my power so I wouldn’t tire myself before a fight, walking down alley after alley before finding my target climbing up the fire escape of one building.
“Widow!” I called out. “I was positive I had you locked away at the Big Top.”
“Sorry Kronos, but the game there is just fruit flies compared to out here. So many big guys to feast on!” Widow said as she turned to me, her smile all pointy teeth. “Like you, why haven’t you and I got together, huh?” She twirled her hair and used the same charm that must have gotten her out of the psych ward.
With a sigh, I mounted the ladder and climbed to her in under a tent of a second, grabbed her by the throat and took her to the top of the building. Hood waited for me at the top, bow at the ready, but what she didn’t know is that I didn’t need her bow this time.
Widows smile only grey larger and tears rolled down her face as the pain wracked her. “Oh, that’s right, a little rough housing first. I’ve been a bad-“ I cut her off with the full extent of my power. I twisted her neck full around and tossed her off the roof, watching as the limp sack of flesh tumbled around the walls and hit the ground with a bloody squelch.
“Wh- what was that?” Hood asked, her voice still slow to me.
“My resignation.” I said, walking slowly towards her. She pointed her bow at me now, string pulled fully back. “I’m so tired of this system. I have to follow laws meant for mere men. Lock up people as powerful as me while their victims get put six feet under.” Hood released the arrow, doing all she could to stop me. I grabbed the arrow from the air and twirled it between my fingers.
“Now, I make the rules.” I stated, close enough now that I put the arrow back in Hoods quiver. Within a blink, I was gone, back at my base to grab the important stuff. I knew the way the game would work, the comics always played out the same.
Hood would replace me, fighting to save her friend from what she must believe is a madness that took root all of a sudden. The city would reel from the news that their Sword and Shield had turned against them. And, in the end, I would be liable to die in some last moment change of heart saving the city from a nefarious plan I had hatched, and would be laid to rest along with my victims, at least what they could find of me.
So much better than the alternative, to retire peacefully and have the entire of the super hero world nag me to come out of retirement. As I left the building me and Hood had used for years together, I was saddened only by the loss of her. At an earlier time when I had nearly done what I had just completed, she came into my life and kept me on the straight and narrow. She was the last bit of good I had, and that’s why I had to go.
Before, she was my sidekick. Now, she would be a hero, the one the city truly needed.
Red Robin Hood.
| I am alone.
For the first time in what seemed to be eons of unrequited empathy and self-sacrifice in the name of others, I am alone.
This foreign quiet comes with a whispered sigh and a dulling of emotion. For years I have pledged myself to others. Disregarded my personal wants -- my needs -- to ensure that they were kept safe and content. I have bled silently and invisibly for my friends, my family, and sometimes complete strangers without an ounce of complaint. It felt good at first. Many saw me as a friend. A hero. A savior.
But no more.
The betrayals. The unrequited affections from the general populace has left me broken. I was a shield for the people, now I lay jaded, fractured, and alone.
Alone.
Despite the uncountable amount of people I have bled for, my companion is the only one to see my descent into villainy. Only she weeps for me. It came slowly of course. Even she could not see the seeds of doubt and self-loathing that had begun to plant within, it was only until it claimed me in its dark web that the sickness began to show. The plague is visible now. It pains me to see her upset. Once a loyal and devout partner who showered me with support and affection; now a worried stranger who cannot stop what is to come. She has tried and tried; unwilling to face my transformation any longer she has departed. Her scent lingers, but like any hope for redemption it has faded into near-nothingness.
I am alone. My surroundings begins to blur and I slowly fall into my bed, with dreams of me playing the hero creeping on the edges of my vision. My arm falls in front of me, the tourniquet gently kissing my scarred veins. | |
[WP] A God is dying. His sons and daughters gather, hoping to inherit his powers. | Five cats crouched around a dying panther.
One was grey, and her body shifted like smoke.
One was black, and her eyes were a swirling blue.
One was brown, and her paws were one with the earth.
One was red, and the air around her shimmered from heat.
And one was white, and white, and *white*, and ***white***.
They were here from their five corners of the four-sided world, a realm where no man has walked or seen or dreamed, a pyramid of a place where from all gods are born.
The panther that lay dying was the mother of all gods men know, and all others that they do not. She was grandmother to universes, sister to creation, and the font of Existence.
And her heirs had gathered, to witness which one of them would ascend to their mother's role.
"Girls," purred the panther.
"Mother," the cats said together.
Her chest heaved, and she coughed up ichor onto the ground before her. Then she laughed, and the cats looked to each other in uncertainty.
"What an impossible choice before me. My beautiful daughters, you are each as perfect as I could ever desire, and yet, none of you are me."
Her eyes were dim and fading stars. "No, not one of you could do what needs to be done."
The grey spoke. "I am clever, mother, I understand your work best of all. I can do what needs to be done."
The black spoke. "I am changeable, mother, let me become much as you are. I can do what needs to be done."
The brown spoke. "I am strong, mother, I can survive the challenges of your role. I can do what needs to be done."
The red spoke. "I am powerful, mother, as powerful as you yourself ever was. I can do what needs to be done."
The white did not speak. But the others looked to her as if she did, and her eyeless face turned to each of them in turn.
The panther closed her eyes, and for a small eternity, her daughters feared that she had died. But then she shuddered, and spoke. "None of you can do what needs to be done. And no matter what I choose, nothing will ever be the same. The old gods will die with their creations, and be forgotten, and the new gods will be nothing like the children of my own body."
Her star eyes opened, and burned, and flickered, and shifted, and were one with of all of creation. "This is the dawn of a new era, and you are my heralds. Serve me well, daughters. All of you."
The cats bowed their heads in respect, and so none of them saw their mother pass. When they looked up, she was gone. And when they looked to each other, they saw each of them had a new eye, starry upon their brow. As well, they were no longer cats as they had been, but neither were they panthers as their mother was.
A grey lynx, black cheetah, brown serval, red lioness, and white leopard were gathered in a circle.
They looked to each other, and bowed, and left to the five corners of their four sided realm.
And from those five came gods, and universes, unlike any of those that had come before. | As I lay on my deathbed, I closed my eyes with a weary sigh. Why did dying have to be so complicated lately?
I remembered when you wanted to die before, all you had to do was go out in the woods, pick a spot you liked, and lay down and die.
Now, everybody had to die in a hospital. Even gods. Die hooked up to machines and respirators, your arms stuck full of wires and needle marks, pumped up full of liquids and oxygen with plastic tubing shoved up your nose. I looked ridiculous. I could hardly even recognize myself anymore. I could hardly even move anymore. Just lie on my back, staring at the ceiling, occasionally asking the nurse if she could change the channel.
All I wanted to do was go outside one last time. Feel the grass beneath my toes, the wind blowing through my hair. Lie down in a big open field or beneath the shade of a big oak tree, and let the world take me.
But now, my last glimpse of the world I created was going to be out of a plexiglass window. At a sod lawn with a petunia flower bed, across the street from a Home Depot.
They had tried to make everything nice for me. Clean sheets. Fluffy pillows. Flower paintings. Bingo games. As if to distract me from the fact that I was dying.
People were beginning to lose faith in me. I don't blame them. I was beginning to lose faith in myself.
I'd been in the hospital for hundreds of years now, kept alive on life support. People's faith was running out. Sure, there were still some people who believed, and there probably always would be, but it wouldn't be enough to keep me alive much longer.
I always used to be a bit of a control freak. A perfectionist. I hated it when things didn't go exactly my way, because it felt like people were trying to ruin the work that I had spent all my life trying to achieve. Maybe that drove people away. I don't know.
I've been trying to get better lately. Have a few less regrets. Death has this way of putting everything in perspective. I learned that maybe just cause I hate shellfish, it doesn't mean other people can't try it. Maybe getting a tattoo or working on Sundays isn't the end of the world.
But it seems like no matter what I do, the blame always gets cast on me, even if it isn't really my fault. Like people will praise my name when they don't have to wait in line at the laundromat, and the next damn me to hell because they get their tie caught in the car door.
Now, the elections were coming up, and it was up to me to decide who would be the next person to inherit the earth. Suddenly I had all these angels who I had never even seen before in my life coming to visit me. Claiming to be my second son or great aunt or fifth-cousin removed or whatever. People sent in their applications, people who have studied for years for this very moment. Lists of proposed changes, improvements. Earth 2.0.
All these people, claiming they'd change the world for the better. But they didn't want to make the world better for everyone. All that they wanted was to make the world better than themselves. They think by getting rid of traffic or mosquitoes or people who text on their dates would be a good idea, or wouldn't have consequences. But in my own personal experience, it was always those who wanted to change the world for the better who ended up doing the most harm.
And maybe I'm a bit old and set in my ways, but I was starting to get pretty fond of this old world. It grows on you. It sure wasn't perfect, but neither was I.
Sometimes, all I wanted to do was descend from the heavens, and lay a hand on that crying man's shoulder, sitting on the park bench alone. Tell him 'hey, everything's going to be okay.' But I couldn't. Because it might not be.
Now, I was surrounded by hundreds of thousands of angelic paparazzi and politicians, doctors and lawyers, and not a single person I could call my friend. Everyone likes to talk about "God's Will", yet here I am, with the paper in hand, and I can't think of a word to say.
I leaned my head to the side, eyes stinging. Part of me wanted to cry. But I couldn't in front of all these people. All of them were leaning in, notepads in hand, cameras held, holding collective bated breath, waiting for my last words. All eyes were on me.
The pen was in one hand, the paper in the other, but my hands were old and feeble. Trembling so badly I couldn't even write my signature.
The lawyer sitting across from me smiled, and gently lifted the pen out of my hand.
"Now." He said, with a click of his pen.
"Tell me your plans for this world."
I felt my heart pounding, the paper getting slick and sweaty in my hand as I felt all the eyes on me. A god dying was a pretty big deal. I was terrified. I couldn't think of a single person I trusted to run the world. What if I fucked up? This decision could change the world forever.
But then again, maybe it wouldn't.
Slowly, as if detached from myself, I felt my hand beginning to crumble up the piece of paper. I could hear the collective gasps, and couldn't help grinning to myself. Maybe this was crazy, or selfish of me. But this was the only thing I could think of to do. This was going to be a PR disaster for sure, but I was going to be dead soon and they couldn't do a damn thing about it.
I crumbled the ball tighter, and clenched it into my fist. My breaths came more labored, each one becoming a conscious effort. But I'd made my decision. I laid my head back against the pillow, and closed my eyes.
You know, this was a pretty alright world, as worlds go. It still has a lot of problems. A few kinks to work out. But it's tough. Maybe it can take care of itself. It's been through some pretty crazy shit. Maybe it's not up to me anymore. Maybe it was time I let the world go.
I smiled as I felt my hand slacken, and let the paper fall, and roll across the floor. I felt hot tears start to stream down the sides of my face as I looked up at the florescent lights up above, and pretended they were the sun.
Hell, people put their faith in me for hundreds of years. Maybe it was time to put my faith in the world. | |
[WP] Your door bell rings. It's a person from an alternate universe, who says, "I just want you to know that you are my favorite book character and I know how it ends and I want to help change it" | As I sat down to continue reading for my exam, I realized that I had spent the last fifteen minutes looking at the same page, without even reading a single line. I also realized that I had left the door open, I went to close it, despite not knowing why I had opened it.
I heard the bell ring.
A young woman, probably in her late 20's, with an unnatural demeanor walked in and started talking in a language that I did not recognize, in excited tones.
"Whoa, whoa, whoa lady, I don't speak whatever language you speak. English please."
"I am really sorry, it's just that you are my absolute, all time favorite book character. I know how this all ends. And you will. not. like it."
*I have not been in contact much with insane people, but this one takes the cake, at least of the few I have met. God bless her soul*
"Lady, for argument's sake, let us say that I agree that I am a book character. Now explain a few things to me. One, how did you get here. Two, how do you know English? Three, How does this 'I am a book character' thing work, is it that I am the center of this universe as in, the rest is filled up with stuff which forms itself as necessary for the plot, or is it that every person in this universe has a book in yours, in which case how do you restrict books to people and not animals? Or for that matter micro organisms, and while we are at it, what are your fairy tales? Do you have anthropomorphic animals in yours? If so why do they not exist in mine? And -"
"There you go with your trademark over-analysis of the mundane. One of the things that I like most about you."
"Science is not mundane. So, if I am a book character are all of my actions tabulated systematically, or is what you read a simplified summary of the actions that are most important? And how do you know that certain actions are more important than others. I mean while their relevance to the plot may be very little, if I stopped breathing the entire book is useless."
"Please stop. My brain is not as fast, or as capable as yours."
"But you still have not answered my questions."
"Those do not matter, at least not directly. Listen carefully, to your future, as it was, for now it has changed simply by my arrival here. You will obtain your degrees summa cum laude,and-"
"Wait did you say degrees? In plural?"
"Was there any doubt in that? Now let me continue. You will by the age of twenty one be known as one of the greatest geniuses of your time. You will make great breakthroughs in the fields of artificial intelligence, quantum computing and theoretical physics. You will be commissioned by the alliance of nations to build the most powerful supercomputer ever built. Suffice to say that your work will completely redefine computing. But even that is not your most earth shattering breakthrough. That honor, goes to your work in proving that your universe cannot be real."
"My universe is not real. Wow. I suppose you realize that there is no proper response to that."
"The story is not yet complete. Now, once your discovery is vetted for by nothing short of five thousand different teams working separately, the alliance of nations slanders you, publishes multiple papers disproving your theory. Shortly after your fall from grace, you are assassinated."
"All right, lady. I think I have heard enough. I have concluded that I need to take you to an asylum."
"Believe me or not, that is the truth."
I heard a mild beeping sound, and saw her pulling out a spherical object. Mutter under her breath, she said,
"My time is up, at least for now. Don't forget me. Goodbye."
Then she disappeared, into thin air, without a trace.
As I sat down to continue reading for my exam, I realized that I had spent the last fifteen minutes looking at the same page, without even reading a single line. I also realized that I had left the door open, I went to close it, despite not knowing why I had opened it.
I heard the bell ring. | Once more, I glanced at the number above the door. 42. I had always taken it for a shoutout to the Sci-Fi classic. To my surprise, the door was opened by a young man, a tall, blond-haired youth, who frowned in confusion. An awkward silence passed as we stared at each other. "You might have the wrong door", the man started, nearly reading my thoughts, but I cut him off. Rude, I know, but a man does what a man has to do. "Is Elsa home?" It felt weird using her first name, but that was probably better. She was always referred in text by her last name. "What is it?" Two young women peered from behind him, one with blue hair and another with poorly dyed blonde. The blonde nodded. "Am I in trouble?" She wasn't quite as pretty as most of the fan art made her out to be.
Fifteen minutes later we were in her room, drinking cheap blackberry tea from mismatched cups - she only owned two, the small one in my hands and the one with her name on it. We sat side by side on her bed, as there was no room at the table. The room was tall and airy, the three house plants were alive, and the floor was scarcely scattered with clothes, shelves and tabletops with jewellery, and a lone shelf full of obscure clutter. there were no empty beer cans of half-finished bottles of the cheapest vodka. Altogether, it was much neater than I had expected. "So I'm fictional", she said, a flat statement. I nodded, having recited enough of her life and high school history to prove myself. "And you know how it's going to end." I nodded again.
"It's going to be an accident, isn't it? I'm going to get hit by a car again, or kill myself doing something stupid. So it's all poetic and shit that I never got to finish my book. Funny, I've always hated books about writers." I shook my head, hand clutched at the pendant around my neck, which would mean nothing to her. "No, actually... It's not that simple. The author died halfway through the last book, and the next one took it to a terribly wrong direction. Also, you are not even the main character. I just thought... If there's anyone in this universe who would believe me, it would be you. And if there's anyone who she will believe, it's you." At least I certainly hoped so. I hoped with my life that my interprention of the original books was right.
"*Whom*", she stressed before what I said even sank in. Her fluency and pettiness with the english language had not been lost in translation. "Wait, who is, then?" I drew a deep breath. "It's Emilia." Not seeming the slightest surprised, she nodded. "I would have bet her. Her, or my sister, but I'll prefer her." I took a sip of my own tea to avoid making comment. Whatever her never-quite-seen sister was like, the narration did not paint a kindly image of her. And I had worse anvils to drop. "The author died, like I said, and the last book ends with you leaving your boyfriend and you two falling in love." Elsa blinked twice. I had never understood the ship, I had always thought of her more as a foil and contrast, tall, rowdy and harsh next to short, cautious and thoughtful. Elsa was an odd sort of tomboy and her POV always described Emilia with purple prose of her doll-like beauty, but the ship had never made sense to him. Both of them *had* been stated to be straight and had exclusively male love interests.
"That's retarded", Elsa said, summing up harshly what I could not say politely, like Emilia would say. I nodded. "You don't say. It pissed off a lot of the fans. So, do you want to help me?" There were some other things that Sanderson had gotten wrong, but the romantic end had been the worst. Elsa downed her tea and scrambled from the bed with all the grace of a broken umbrella. "You'll bet your ass. So where do we start?" | |
[WP] Your door bell rings. It's a person from an alternate universe, who says, "I just want you to know that you are my favorite book character and I know how it ends and I want to help change it" | The ship's uncontrolled spin made the planet that was hurtling towards me look like nothing more than a green blur on the view screen. I gripped the controls and tested them experimentally. Dead. I hadn't really expected anything else. No flight controls, no engines, and the MaxFusion drive's anti-matter chamber was going critical. If that wasn't bad enough I still had six Hilter-Clone Hive-Mind Cruisers shooting at me.
Man, I hate Mondays.
"Rex!" a silky voice purred from a speaker behind me, "You have to eject and save yourself! Forget about me!"
It was the ship's AI. It had fallen madly in love with me. Typical.
"Sorry, love," I growled through gritted teeth as I struggled against the crushing forces shoving me back, "That's not the GalactiCorp way!"
"Oh Rex!" the ship sighed lustfully. The AI had started out as a standard issue stoic male voice when I had it installed two months ago. As always, within two weeks the AI recreated its personality and began to fall for me. Hard. Eventually the longing and jealousy of the AI would affect the performance of the ship and I'd have to swap it out again. I was running up quite a tab at the shipyards, actually. But, that was a concern for another day.
Straining every muscle in my body, I finally managed to grip the edge of the control panel. I didn't have time to deal with the quick fasteners so I simply wedged my fingertips into the gap and pulled. The panel came loose with a scream of protesting metal leaving the internal workings exposed. As I half expected, two blackened and frayed power conduits hung limply from their sockets. But, just above them, two others still glowed with power. Life support and sensors. Well, if this didn't work I wouldn't need either. Still gripping the control panel with one hand, I reached forward with my free hand and pulled the conduits free. The ever present hum of the ships ventilation system quieted and the view screen went dark as I did so.
"Rex!" the AI screamed, panic seizing its synthetic voice, "What are you doing?"
I ignored the voice and slammed the conduits into the charred sockets for flight control and engines. With a shudder, I felt the ship come alive under my chair. I let go of the console and, with lightning quick reflexes, grasped the controller as I was shoved backwards. The ship bucked as I pulled back, but it was responding. It was weak and I was flying blind, but I was back in control!
I twisted the wheel to the side to counter the spin. Feeling some of the maddening forces tearing me from my seat die down, I focused on my next step. The Patented Rex Hardbody Atmospheric Ricochet Maneuver. If I was off with even one of my calculations the ship would disintegrate as it struck the atmosphere. I had no way of knowing when to adjust my heading other than relying on gut instinct. Piece of cake.
I pushed forward sending me into an even steeper dive. The AI pleaded with me to eject but I ignored it. I waited until I knew I was in the right position and pulled. The ship's hull groaned in protest, but I felt the bounce of the atmosphere pushing me outwards. I had performed the maneuver flawlessly. Was there any doubt?
I let go of the controls and, now that the crushing forces of spin and uncontrolled acceleration had slackened, I took the time to plug the sensor array back in. The display lit up before me and I was greeted by the view of the planet below retreating as well as five splashes of color from the Hilter Clone ships exploding in the atmosphere. Five? I frowned and panned the scanner left and right. There! The six ship had somehow survived and was still bearing down on me.
I glanced at the console and saw the TransMax drive was still overloading. Well, that simplified things. I tapped out a string of commands. The ship rocked as the Hitler Clone opened fire on me. It was a glancing blow. He wouldn't miss the second time. I ignored it and concentrated on finishing the sequence of commands. I hit execute and sat back to watch. The Hitler Clone Cruiser adjusted its bearings and took aim at me. The tips of its HellBlaster cannons began to glow as they powered up for another volley. They never got a chance, though, as the stream of anti-matter I had just ejected came in contact with the hull of ship.
I unplugged the sensors and regained flight control. I needed to find a stable orbit and then set about repairing the ship. But that was a problem for later. Right now, I had a more pressing concern.
I reached under my seat and tugged out the plastic cooler. I popped the lid off of it and gripped one of the chilled bottles inside. I hoped the shaking of the ship hadn't given the contents too much of a head. Nothing in the world more disappointing than flat Old Bartholomew's Liver Killer. I cracked open the lid and was greeted with just a bit of foam. Good enough. I swigged deeply and fumbled in a pocket for a Mangood Cigarette. It had been a good day so far. The doorbell rang.
I put the bottle down and looked around. Doorbell? On a ship.
"Ship?" I spoke up, "Did you hear that?"
"Rex?" It sobbed, "Please don't tell me it's another woman! I couldn't bear to-!"
I killed the AI's speakers. It was already useless. I unfastened the webbing on my seat and strolled to the cabin door with the still unlit cigarette in my lips. I wrenched the door open and found myself staring at a portly and bespectacled youth. The pimple dappled face broke into a grin.
"Rex Hardbody!" the boy gushed, "I'm your biggest fan!"
Not this! I stormed back to my chair and looked for a lighter.
"I'm from an alternate universe," he continued, "And you are my favorite book character. I've come here today because I know how this story ends and I want to help change it!"
"I know how it ends too," I said, finding a lighter under the seat cushion, "It ends with you getting off my ship before I find my neural disrupter!"
"No!" he said, "You don't understand! This is your last adventure! When you go back to the Amazonian Slave Pit and face down Queen Mammary she's going to release the Bikini Kill Squad and-"
"Hold it!" I interrupted, holding up a hand, "Amazonian Slave Pit? Son, I'm supposed to be on planet Jurrasico to enter into a Teerexoid Punching Contest right now. I don't know anything about an Amazonian Slave Pit and if I don't get this ship to Jurrasico then I won't be able to stop the VastoLord plan to destroy the Nymphette Rainforest."
The kid took a step back and looked confused.
"Planet Jurrasico?" he said, "You mean you haven't tossed the VastoLord into the heart of the eternal eruptions of Volcanicus?"
"Not a bad idea," I conceded, "But I first have to get him out to that neck of the woods."
"Drat!" the kid said, stamping his foot, "I arrived too early. I'll have to try again!"
"Yeah, about that," I said. He looked up and, face still frozen in a look of surprise, I hit him with both bores of the disrupter. His lifeless body collapsed on the deck and I settled into my chair.
Fanboys. Where were they coming from? This was the eighteenth I'd killed in the past year alone. He was probably right, of course. They usually were. I had died over and over again since I had joined the GaltiCorp. But someone always found a way to bring me back. I took a swig off my beer and turned the ship's AI back on.
"I'm going to need you to open the airlock for me," I told it, "I've got another body to dump." | Once more, I glanced at the number above the door. 42. I had always taken it for a shoutout to the Sci-Fi classic. To my surprise, the door was opened by a young man, a tall, blond-haired youth, who frowned in confusion. An awkward silence passed as we stared at each other. "You might have the wrong door", the man started, nearly reading my thoughts, but I cut him off. Rude, I know, but a man does what a man has to do. "Is Elsa home?" It felt weird using her first name, but that was probably better. She was always referred in text by her last name. "What is it?" Two young women peered from behind him, one with blue hair and another with poorly dyed blonde. The blonde nodded. "Am I in trouble?" She wasn't quite as pretty as most of the fan art made her out to be.
Fifteen minutes later we were in her room, drinking cheap blackberry tea from mismatched cups - she only owned two, the small one in my hands and the one with her name on it. We sat side by side on her bed, as there was no room at the table. The room was tall and airy, the three house plants were alive, and the floor was scarcely scattered with clothes, shelves and tabletops with jewellery, and a lone shelf full of obscure clutter. there were no empty beer cans of half-finished bottles of the cheapest vodka. Altogether, it was much neater than I had expected. "So I'm fictional", she said, a flat statement. I nodded, having recited enough of her life and high school history to prove myself. "And you know how it's going to end." I nodded again.
"It's going to be an accident, isn't it? I'm going to get hit by a car again, or kill myself doing something stupid. So it's all poetic and shit that I never got to finish my book. Funny, I've always hated books about writers." I shook my head, hand clutched at the pendant around my neck, which would mean nothing to her. "No, actually... It's not that simple. The author died halfway through the last book, and the next one took it to a terribly wrong direction. Also, you are not even the main character. I just thought... If there's anyone in this universe who would believe me, it would be you. And if there's anyone who she will believe, it's you." At least I certainly hoped so. I hoped with my life that my interprention of the original books was right.
"*Whom*", she stressed before what I said even sank in. Her fluency and pettiness with the english language had not been lost in translation. "Wait, who is, then?" I drew a deep breath. "It's Emilia." Not seeming the slightest surprised, she nodded. "I would have bet her. Her, or my sister, but I'll prefer her." I took a sip of my own tea to avoid making comment. Whatever her never-quite-seen sister was like, the narration did not paint a kindly image of her. And I had worse anvils to drop. "The author died, like I said, and the last book ends with you leaving your boyfriend and you two falling in love." Elsa blinked twice. I had never understood the ship, I had always thought of her more as a foil and contrast, tall, rowdy and harsh next to short, cautious and thoughtful. Elsa was an odd sort of tomboy and her POV always described Emilia with purple prose of her doll-like beauty, but the ship had never made sense to him. Both of them *had* been stated to be straight and had exclusively male love interests.
"That's retarded", Elsa said, summing up harshly what I could not say politely, like Emilia would say. I nodded. "You don't say. It pissed off a lot of the fans. So, do you want to help me?" There were some other things that Sanderson had gotten wrong, but the romantic end had been the worst. Elsa downed her tea and scrambled from the bed with all the grace of a broken umbrella. "You'll bet your ass. So where do we start?" | |
[WP] Your door bell rings. It's a person from an alternate universe, who says, "I just want you to know that you are my favorite book character and I know how it ends and I want to help change it" | **DING DONG**
"Who the fuck and why?!" I cursed over the sounds of my coon hound baying.
"Jaaack, shut the hell up."
**DING DONG**
"Give me a fucking second, damn I need to put pants on."
Working nights made these especially annoying. Yeah 10 o'clock is fine for most people but when you go to bed at 5 am waking up before noon just makes you delerious and pissed.
I stumbled my way to the door wearing nothing but my pajama bottoms.
"Fuck them," I thought "if they didn't want to see me shirtless they shouldn't be here, they're fucking lucky I'm wearing pants."
I finally calm my dog down and get to the door. A man I have never seen is standing on the other side. I open the door.
"Yes?" I asked with a clear tone of annoyance.
"Hi, I'm sorry to bother you did....did I wake you?" The stranger asked.
"Yeah...I work nights, shit happens, can I help you?"
"Right. Yes. So this is going to sound crazy but I was reading this book. Something bad is going to happen to you. Very bad. I just need you to-"
"Not interested" I said while starting to close the door.
"No you don't understand, you're life is in da-"
CLUNK
"Fucking Mormons" I cursed on my way back to bed. | Once more, I glanced at the number above the door. 42. I had always taken it for a shoutout to the Sci-Fi classic. To my surprise, the door was opened by a young man, a tall, blond-haired youth, who frowned in confusion. An awkward silence passed as we stared at each other. "You might have the wrong door", the man started, nearly reading my thoughts, but I cut him off. Rude, I know, but a man does what a man has to do. "Is Elsa home?" It felt weird using her first name, but that was probably better. She was always referred in text by her last name. "What is it?" Two young women peered from behind him, one with blue hair and another with poorly dyed blonde. The blonde nodded. "Am I in trouble?" She wasn't quite as pretty as most of the fan art made her out to be.
Fifteen minutes later we were in her room, drinking cheap blackberry tea from mismatched cups - she only owned two, the small one in my hands and the one with her name on it. We sat side by side on her bed, as there was no room at the table. The room was tall and airy, the three house plants were alive, and the floor was scarcely scattered with clothes, shelves and tabletops with jewellery, and a lone shelf full of obscure clutter. there were no empty beer cans of half-finished bottles of the cheapest vodka. Altogether, it was much neater than I had expected. "So I'm fictional", she said, a flat statement. I nodded, having recited enough of her life and high school history to prove myself. "And you know how it's going to end." I nodded again.
"It's going to be an accident, isn't it? I'm going to get hit by a car again, or kill myself doing something stupid. So it's all poetic and shit that I never got to finish my book. Funny, I've always hated books about writers." I shook my head, hand clutched at the pendant around my neck, which would mean nothing to her. "No, actually... It's not that simple. The author died halfway through the last book, and the next one took it to a terribly wrong direction. Also, you are not even the main character. I just thought... If there's anyone in this universe who would believe me, it would be you. And if there's anyone who she will believe, it's you." At least I certainly hoped so. I hoped with my life that my interprention of the original books was right.
"*Whom*", she stressed before what I said even sank in. Her fluency and pettiness with the english language had not been lost in translation. "Wait, who is, then?" I drew a deep breath. "It's Emilia." Not seeming the slightest surprised, she nodded. "I would have bet her. Her, or my sister, but I'll prefer her." I took a sip of my own tea to avoid making comment. Whatever her never-quite-seen sister was like, the narration did not paint a kindly image of her. And I had worse anvils to drop. "The author died, like I said, and the last book ends with you leaving your boyfriend and you two falling in love." Elsa blinked twice. I had never understood the ship, I had always thought of her more as a foil and contrast, tall, rowdy and harsh next to short, cautious and thoughtful. Elsa was an odd sort of tomboy and her POV always described Emilia with purple prose of her doll-like beauty, but the ship had never made sense to him. Both of them *had* been stated to be straight and had exclusively male love interests.
"That's retarded", Elsa said, summing up harshly what I could not say politely, like Emilia would say. I nodded. "You don't say. It pissed off a lot of the fans. So, do you want to help me?" There were some other things that Sanderson had gotten wrong, but the romantic end had been the worst. Elsa downed her tea and scrambled from the bed with all the grace of a broken umbrella. "You'll bet your ass. So where do we start?" | |
[WP] Your door bell rings. It's a person from an alternate universe, who says, "I just want you to know that you are my favorite book character and I know how it ends and I want to help change it" | As I sat down to continue reading for my exam, I realized that I had spent the last fifteen minutes looking at the same page, without even reading a single line. I also realized that I had left the door open, I went to close it, despite not knowing why I had opened it.
I heard the bell ring.
A young woman, probably in her late 20's, with an unnatural demeanor walked in and started talking in a language that I did not recognize, in excited tones.
"Whoa, whoa, whoa lady, I don't speak whatever language you speak. English please."
"I am really sorry, it's just that you are my absolute, all time favorite book character. I know how this all ends. And you will. not. like it."
*I have not been in contact much with insane people, but this one takes the cake, at least of the few I have met. God bless her soul*
"Lady, for argument's sake, let us say that I agree that I am a book character. Now explain a few things to me. One, how did you get here. Two, how do you know English? Three, How does this 'I am a book character' thing work, is it that I am the center of this universe as in, the rest is filled up with stuff which forms itself as necessary for the plot, or is it that every person in this universe has a book in yours, in which case how do you restrict books to people and not animals? Or for that matter micro organisms, and while we are at it, what are your fairy tales? Do you have anthropomorphic animals in yours? If so why do they not exist in mine? And -"
"There you go with your trademark over-analysis of the mundane. One of the things that I like most about you."
"Science is not mundane. So, if I am a book character are all of my actions tabulated systematically, or is what you read a simplified summary of the actions that are most important? And how do you know that certain actions are more important than others. I mean while their relevance to the plot may be very little, if I stopped breathing the entire book is useless."
"Please stop. My brain is not as fast, or as capable as yours."
"But you still have not answered my questions."
"Those do not matter, at least not directly. Listen carefully, to your future, as it was, for now it has changed simply by my arrival here. You will obtain your degrees summa cum laude,and-"
"Wait did you say degrees? In plural?"
"Was there any doubt in that? Now let me continue. You will by the age of twenty one be known as one of the greatest geniuses of your time. You will make great breakthroughs in the fields of artificial intelligence, quantum computing and theoretical physics. You will be commissioned by the alliance of nations to build the most powerful supercomputer ever built. Suffice to say that your work will completely redefine computing. But even that is not your most earth shattering breakthrough. That honor, goes to your work in proving that your universe cannot be real."
"My universe is not real. Wow. I suppose you realize that there is no proper response to that."
"The story is not yet complete. Now, once your discovery is vetted for by nothing short of five thousand different teams working separately, the alliance of nations slanders you, publishes multiple papers disproving your theory. Shortly after your fall from grace, you are assassinated."
"All right, lady. I think I have heard enough. I have concluded that I need to take you to an asylum."
"Believe me or not, that is the truth."
I heard a mild beeping sound, and saw her pulling out a spherical object. Mutter under her breath, she said,
"My time is up, at least for now. Don't forget me. Goodbye."
Then she disappeared, into thin air, without a trace.
As I sat down to continue reading for my exam, I realized that I had spent the last fifteen minutes looking at the same page, without even reading a single line. I also realized that I had left the door open, I went to close it, despite not knowing why I had opened it.
I heard the bell ring. | I had a good childhood. A great one, even. My parents are always great, and they brought me up well - which is why I was being so careful.
Pete and I were in his basement. His parents were out. We weren't going to get caught.
"Do you have them?" I asked.
"Of course I have them, dumbass," he snapped, reaching into his pocket. "This is your first time, right?" he asked me as he pulled out its contents.
"Y-yeah."
He chuckled. "They're always so scared. You're not going to fuck up your life with one hit, buddy."
"Right, yeah..." I murmured, nodding.
"Here," he said, holding out a tight roll of paper. "Don't drop it. Don't put it in your mouth. I'll light you up."
I hesitated, my hand hovering over what a big part of me knew was a mistake.
"Chrissake, Mitch, don't be a pussy. Just take the fucking thing," he growled.
I grabbed it without thinking, so I couldn't change my mind.
"Hold it still," he said, lighting a match. He carefully lit the paper, and it started smoking. I suddenly felt nauseous, but I wasn't sure if it was the drugs or my nerves. Maybe both. I started moving it towards my face, with Pete watching impatiently.
I was about to take a puff when the doorbell rang. I dropped the paper in fright. Pete scowled at me.
"Just ignore it. This is a big moment."
"What if it's your parents?" I asked, starting to regret every choice I had ever made.
"They're out of town. Quit fucking around and go for it."
"What if they forgot something? Or there was an emergency?" I was making excuses now, and he knew it.
"Fine, if you're that worried, go answer the goddamn door."
"Okay!" I squeaked, running upstairs and to the front door. I opened it quickly, and found a perfect stranger standing in front of me. A girl, wearing a long striped scarf and a blue dress. She was kind of cute.
"Oh my god!" she squealed.
"Yes, hello?" I replied.
"It's really you! Ohmygod, ohmygod!"
"What? Do I know you?"
"No, no... I... Mitch... I..."
"How do you know my--"
"Um..." She looked down at her hand, where a few words were scrawled. "Don't do it! Don't do it, Mitch. I'm here to help."
"Don't do what?"
"You know, the drugs thing."
"How did you know about that?" I asked, glancing back to see if Pete was watching. He had to be messing with me... Right?
"It was in the book! Duh!"
"Book?"
"Oh! You don't know, right, of course, duh... I just want you to know that you are my favourite book character, and... And I know how it ends--"
"You *what*?"
"--and I want to help you change it!"
I stared at the girl. She was insane. Or joking. Either way, I slammed the door in her face and locked it. The doorbell rang again, but I ignored it and returned to the basement.
"Who was it?" Pete asked.
"Girl scout," I lied, before taking a deep breath and picking up the roll I'd dropped. "Okay," I said, "Light me up again, Pete... Let's do this." | |
[WP] Your door bell rings. It's a person from an alternate universe, who says, "I just want you to know that you are my favorite book character and I know how it ends and I want to help change it" | The ship's uncontrolled spin made the planet that was hurtling towards me look like nothing more than a green blur on the view screen. I gripped the controls and tested them experimentally. Dead. I hadn't really expected anything else. No flight controls, no engines, and the MaxFusion drive's anti-matter chamber was going critical. If that wasn't bad enough I still had six Hilter-Clone Hive-Mind Cruisers shooting at me.
Man, I hate Mondays.
"Rex!" a silky voice purred from a speaker behind me, "You have to eject and save yourself! Forget about me!"
It was the ship's AI. It had fallen madly in love with me. Typical.
"Sorry, love," I growled through gritted teeth as I struggled against the crushing forces shoving me back, "That's not the GalactiCorp way!"
"Oh Rex!" the ship sighed lustfully. The AI had started out as a standard issue stoic male voice when I had it installed two months ago. As always, within two weeks the AI recreated its personality and began to fall for me. Hard. Eventually the longing and jealousy of the AI would affect the performance of the ship and I'd have to swap it out again. I was running up quite a tab at the shipyards, actually. But, that was a concern for another day.
Straining every muscle in my body, I finally managed to grip the edge of the control panel. I didn't have time to deal with the quick fasteners so I simply wedged my fingertips into the gap and pulled. The panel came loose with a scream of protesting metal leaving the internal workings exposed. As I half expected, two blackened and frayed power conduits hung limply from their sockets. But, just above them, two others still glowed with power. Life support and sensors. Well, if this didn't work I wouldn't need either. Still gripping the control panel with one hand, I reached forward with my free hand and pulled the conduits free. The ever present hum of the ships ventilation system quieted and the view screen went dark as I did so.
"Rex!" the AI screamed, panic seizing its synthetic voice, "What are you doing?"
I ignored the voice and slammed the conduits into the charred sockets for flight control and engines. With a shudder, I felt the ship come alive under my chair. I let go of the console and, with lightning quick reflexes, grasped the controller as I was shoved backwards. The ship bucked as I pulled back, but it was responding. It was weak and I was flying blind, but I was back in control!
I twisted the wheel to the side to counter the spin. Feeling some of the maddening forces tearing me from my seat die down, I focused on my next step. The Patented Rex Hardbody Atmospheric Ricochet Maneuver. If I was off with even one of my calculations the ship would disintegrate as it struck the atmosphere. I had no way of knowing when to adjust my heading other than relying on gut instinct. Piece of cake.
I pushed forward sending me into an even steeper dive. The AI pleaded with me to eject but I ignored it. I waited until I knew I was in the right position and pulled. The ship's hull groaned in protest, but I felt the bounce of the atmosphere pushing me outwards. I had performed the maneuver flawlessly. Was there any doubt?
I let go of the controls and, now that the crushing forces of spin and uncontrolled acceleration had slackened, I took the time to plug the sensor array back in. The display lit up before me and I was greeted by the view of the planet below retreating as well as five splashes of color from the Hilter Clone ships exploding in the atmosphere. Five? I frowned and panned the scanner left and right. There! The six ship had somehow survived and was still bearing down on me.
I glanced at the console and saw the TransMax drive was still overloading. Well, that simplified things. I tapped out a string of commands. The ship rocked as the Hitler Clone opened fire on me. It was a glancing blow. He wouldn't miss the second time. I ignored it and concentrated on finishing the sequence of commands. I hit execute and sat back to watch. The Hitler Clone Cruiser adjusted its bearings and took aim at me. The tips of its HellBlaster cannons began to glow as they powered up for another volley. They never got a chance, though, as the stream of anti-matter I had just ejected came in contact with the hull of ship.
I unplugged the sensors and regained flight control. I needed to find a stable orbit and then set about repairing the ship. But that was a problem for later. Right now, I had a more pressing concern.
I reached under my seat and tugged out the plastic cooler. I popped the lid off of it and gripped one of the chilled bottles inside. I hoped the shaking of the ship hadn't given the contents too much of a head. Nothing in the world more disappointing than flat Old Bartholomew's Liver Killer. I cracked open the lid and was greeted with just a bit of foam. Good enough. I swigged deeply and fumbled in a pocket for a Mangood Cigarette. It had been a good day so far. The doorbell rang.
I put the bottle down and looked around. Doorbell? On a ship.
"Ship?" I spoke up, "Did you hear that?"
"Rex?" It sobbed, "Please don't tell me it's another woman! I couldn't bear to-!"
I killed the AI's speakers. It was already useless. I unfastened the webbing on my seat and strolled to the cabin door with the still unlit cigarette in my lips. I wrenched the door open and found myself staring at a portly and bespectacled youth. The pimple dappled face broke into a grin.
"Rex Hardbody!" the boy gushed, "I'm your biggest fan!"
Not this! I stormed back to my chair and looked for a lighter.
"I'm from an alternate universe," he continued, "And you are my favorite book character. I've come here today because I know how this story ends and I want to help change it!"
"I know how it ends too," I said, finding a lighter under the seat cushion, "It ends with you getting off my ship before I find my neural disrupter!"
"No!" he said, "You don't understand! This is your last adventure! When you go back to the Amazonian Slave Pit and face down Queen Mammary she's going to release the Bikini Kill Squad and-"
"Hold it!" I interrupted, holding up a hand, "Amazonian Slave Pit? Son, I'm supposed to be on planet Jurrasico to enter into a Teerexoid Punching Contest right now. I don't know anything about an Amazonian Slave Pit and if I don't get this ship to Jurrasico then I won't be able to stop the VastoLord plan to destroy the Nymphette Rainforest."
The kid took a step back and looked confused.
"Planet Jurrasico?" he said, "You mean you haven't tossed the VastoLord into the heart of the eternal eruptions of Volcanicus?"
"Not a bad idea," I conceded, "But I first have to get him out to that neck of the woods."
"Drat!" the kid said, stamping his foot, "I arrived too early. I'll have to try again!"
"Yeah, about that," I said. He looked up and, face still frozen in a look of surprise, I hit him with both bores of the disrupter. His lifeless body collapsed on the deck and I settled into my chair.
Fanboys. Where were they coming from? This was the eighteenth I'd killed in the past year alone. He was probably right, of course. They usually were. I had died over and over again since I had joined the GaltiCorp. But someone always found a way to bring me back. I took a swig off my beer and turned the ship's AI back on.
"I'm going to need you to open the airlock for me," I told it, "I've got another body to dump." | I had a good childhood. A great one, even. My parents are always great, and they brought me up well - which is why I was being so careful.
Pete and I were in his basement. His parents were out. We weren't going to get caught.
"Do you have them?" I asked.
"Of course I have them, dumbass," he snapped, reaching into his pocket. "This is your first time, right?" he asked me as he pulled out its contents.
"Y-yeah."
He chuckled. "They're always so scared. You're not going to fuck up your life with one hit, buddy."
"Right, yeah..." I murmured, nodding.
"Here," he said, holding out a tight roll of paper. "Don't drop it. Don't put it in your mouth. I'll light you up."
I hesitated, my hand hovering over what a big part of me knew was a mistake.
"Chrissake, Mitch, don't be a pussy. Just take the fucking thing," he growled.
I grabbed it without thinking, so I couldn't change my mind.
"Hold it still," he said, lighting a match. He carefully lit the paper, and it started smoking. I suddenly felt nauseous, but I wasn't sure if it was the drugs or my nerves. Maybe both. I started moving it towards my face, with Pete watching impatiently.
I was about to take a puff when the doorbell rang. I dropped the paper in fright. Pete scowled at me.
"Just ignore it. This is a big moment."
"What if it's your parents?" I asked, starting to regret every choice I had ever made.
"They're out of town. Quit fucking around and go for it."
"What if they forgot something? Or there was an emergency?" I was making excuses now, and he knew it.
"Fine, if you're that worried, go answer the goddamn door."
"Okay!" I squeaked, running upstairs and to the front door. I opened it quickly, and found a perfect stranger standing in front of me. A girl, wearing a long striped scarf and a blue dress. She was kind of cute.
"Oh my god!" she squealed.
"Yes, hello?" I replied.
"It's really you! Ohmygod, ohmygod!"
"What? Do I know you?"
"No, no... I... Mitch... I..."
"How do you know my--"
"Um..." She looked down at her hand, where a few words were scrawled. "Don't do it! Don't do it, Mitch. I'm here to help."
"Don't do what?"
"You know, the drugs thing."
"How did you know about that?" I asked, glancing back to see if Pete was watching. He had to be messing with me... Right?
"It was in the book! Duh!"
"Book?"
"Oh! You don't know, right, of course, duh... I just want you to know that you are my favourite book character, and... And I know how it ends--"
"You *what*?"
"--and I want to help you change it!"
I stared at the girl. She was insane. Or joking. Either way, I slammed the door in her face and locked it. The doorbell rang again, but I ignored it and returned to the basement.
"Who was it?" Pete asked.
"Girl scout," I lied, before taking a deep breath and picking up the roll I'd dropped. "Okay," I said, "Light me up again, Pete... Let's do this." | |
[WP] Your door bell rings. It's a person from an alternate universe, who says, "I just want you to know that you are my favorite book character and I know how it ends and I want to help change it" | **DING DONG**
"Who the fuck and why?!" I cursed over the sounds of my coon hound baying.
"Jaaack, shut the hell up."
**DING DONG**
"Give me a fucking second, damn I need to put pants on."
Working nights made these especially annoying. Yeah 10 o'clock is fine for most people but when you go to bed at 5 am waking up before noon just makes you delerious and pissed.
I stumbled my way to the door wearing nothing but my pajama bottoms.
"Fuck them," I thought "if they didn't want to see me shirtless they shouldn't be here, they're fucking lucky I'm wearing pants."
I finally calm my dog down and get to the door. A man I have never seen is standing on the other side. I open the door.
"Yes?" I asked with a clear tone of annoyance.
"Hi, I'm sorry to bother you did....did I wake you?" The stranger asked.
"Yeah...I work nights, shit happens, can I help you?"
"Right. Yes. So this is going to sound crazy but I was reading this book. Something bad is going to happen to you. Very bad. I just need you to-"
"Not interested" I said while starting to close the door.
"No you don't understand, you're life is in da-"
CLUNK
"Fucking Mormons" I cursed on my way back to bed. | I had a good childhood. A great one, even. My parents are always great, and they brought me up well - which is why I was being so careful.
Pete and I were in his basement. His parents were out. We weren't going to get caught.
"Do you have them?" I asked.
"Of course I have them, dumbass," he snapped, reaching into his pocket. "This is your first time, right?" he asked me as he pulled out its contents.
"Y-yeah."
He chuckled. "They're always so scared. You're not going to fuck up your life with one hit, buddy."
"Right, yeah..." I murmured, nodding.
"Here," he said, holding out a tight roll of paper. "Don't drop it. Don't put it in your mouth. I'll light you up."
I hesitated, my hand hovering over what a big part of me knew was a mistake.
"Chrissake, Mitch, don't be a pussy. Just take the fucking thing," he growled.
I grabbed it without thinking, so I couldn't change my mind.
"Hold it still," he said, lighting a match. He carefully lit the paper, and it started smoking. I suddenly felt nauseous, but I wasn't sure if it was the drugs or my nerves. Maybe both. I started moving it towards my face, with Pete watching impatiently.
I was about to take a puff when the doorbell rang. I dropped the paper in fright. Pete scowled at me.
"Just ignore it. This is a big moment."
"What if it's your parents?" I asked, starting to regret every choice I had ever made.
"They're out of town. Quit fucking around and go for it."
"What if they forgot something? Or there was an emergency?" I was making excuses now, and he knew it.
"Fine, if you're that worried, go answer the goddamn door."
"Okay!" I squeaked, running upstairs and to the front door. I opened it quickly, and found a perfect stranger standing in front of me. A girl, wearing a long striped scarf and a blue dress. She was kind of cute.
"Oh my god!" she squealed.
"Yes, hello?" I replied.
"It's really you! Ohmygod, ohmygod!"
"What? Do I know you?"
"No, no... I... Mitch... I..."
"How do you know my--"
"Um..." She looked down at her hand, where a few words were scrawled. "Don't do it! Don't do it, Mitch. I'm here to help."
"Don't do what?"
"You know, the drugs thing."
"How did you know about that?" I asked, glancing back to see if Pete was watching. He had to be messing with me... Right?
"It was in the book! Duh!"
"Book?"
"Oh! You don't know, right, of course, duh... I just want you to know that you are my favourite book character, and... And I know how it ends--"
"You *what*?"
"--and I want to help you change it!"
I stared at the girl. She was insane. Or joking. Either way, I slammed the door in her face and locked it. The doorbell rang again, but I ignored it and returned to the basement.
"Who was it?" Pete asked.
"Girl scout," I lied, before taking a deep breath and picking up the roll I'd dropped. "Okay," I said, "Light me up again, Pete... Let's do this." | |
[WP] Your door bell rings. It's a person from an alternate universe, who says, "I just want you to know that you are my favorite book character and I know how it ends and I want to help change it" | The ship's uncontrolled spin made the planet that was hurtling towards me look like nothing more than a green blur on the view screen. I gripped the controls and tested them experimentally. Dead. I hadn't really expected anything else. No flight controls, no engines, and the MaxFusion drive's anti-matter chamber was going critical. If that wasn't bad enough I still had six Hilter-Clone Hive-Mind Cruisers shooting at me.
Man, I hate Mondays.
"Rex!" a silky voice purred from a speaker behind me, "You have to eject and save yourself! Forget about me!"
It was the ship's AI. It had fallen madly in love with me. Typical.
"Sorry, love," I growled through gritted teeth as I struggled against the crushing forces shoving me back, "That's not the GalactiCorp way!"
"Oh Rex!" the ship sighed lustfully. The AI had started out as a standard issue stoic male voice when I had it installed two months ago. As always, within two weeks the AI recreated its personality and began to fall for me. Hard. Eventually the longing and jealousy of the AI would affect the performance of the ship and I'd have to swap it out again. I was running up quite a tab at the shipyards, actually. But, that was a concern for another day.
Straining every muscle in my body, I finally managed to grip the edge of the control panel. I didn't have time to deal with the quick fasteners so I simply wedged my fingertips into the gap and pulled. The panel came loose with a scream of protesting metal leaving the internal workings exposed. As I half expected, two blackened and frayed power conduits hung limply from their sockets. But, just above them, two others still glowed with power. Life support and sensors. Well, if this didn't work I wouldn't need either. Still gripping the control panel with one hand, I reached forward with my free hand and pulled the conduits free. The ever present hum of the ships ventilation system quieted and the view screen went dark as I did so.
"Rex!" the AI screamed, panic seizing its synthetic voice, "What are you doing?"
I ignored the voice and slammed the conduits into the charred sockets for flight control and engines. With a shudder, I felt the ship come alive under my chair. I let go of the console and, with lightning quick reflexes, grasped the controller as I was shoved backwards. The ship bucked as I pulled back, but it was responding. It was weak and I was flying blind, but I was back in control!
I twisted the wheel to the side to counter the spin. Feeling some of the maddening forces tearing me from my seat die down, I focused on my next step. The Patented Rex Hardbody Atmospheric Ricochet Maneuver. If I was off with even one of my calculations the ship would disintegrate as it struck the atmosphere. I had no way of knowing when to adjust my heading other than relying on gut instinct. Piece of cake.
I pushed forward sending me into an even steeper dive. The AI pleaded with me to eject but I ignored it. I waited until I knew I was in the right position and pulled. The ship's hull groaned in protest, but I felt the bounce of the atmosphere pushing me outwards. I had performed the maneuver flawlessly. Was there any doubt?
I let go of the controls and, now that the crushing forces of spin and uncontrolled acceleration had slackened, I took the time to plug the sensor array back in. The display lit up before me and I was greeted by the view of the planet below retreating as well as five splashes of color from the Hilter Clone ships exploding in the atmosphere. Five? I frowned and panned the scanner left and right. There! The six ship had somehow survived and was still bearing down on me.
I glanced at the console and saw the TransMax drive was still overloading. Well, that simplified things. I tapped out a string of commands. The ship rocked as the Hitler Clone opened fire on me. It was a glancing blow. He wouldn't miss the second time. I ignored it and concentrated on finishing the sequence of commands. I hit execute and sat back to watch. The Hitler Clone Cruiser adjusted its bearings and took aim at me. The tips of its HellBlaster cannons began to glow as they powered up for another volley. They never got a chance, though, as the stream of anti-matter I had just ejected came in contact with the hull of ship.
I unplugged the sensors and regained flight control. I needed to find a stable orbit and then set about repairing the ship. But that was a problem for later. Right now, I had a more pressing concern.
I reached under my seat and tugged out the plastic cooler. I popped the lid off of it and gripped one of the chilled bottles inside. I hoped the shaking of the ship hadn't given the contents too much of a head. Nothing in the world more disappointing than flat Old Bartholomew's Liver Killer. I cracked open the lid and was greeted with just a bit of foam. Good enough. I swigged deeply and fumbled in a pocket for a Mangood Cigarette. It had been a good day so far. The doorbell rang.
I put the bottle down and looked around. Doorbell? On a ship.
"Ship?" I spoke up, "Did you hear that?"
"Rex?" It sobbed, "Please don't tell me it's another woman! I couldn't bear to-!"
I killed the AI's speakers. It was already useless. I unfastened the webbing on my seat and strolled to the cabin door with the still unlit cigarette in my lips. I wrenched the door open and found myself staring at a portly and bespectacled youth. The pimple dappled face broke into a grin.
"Rex Hardbody!" the boy gushed, "I'm your biggest fan!"
Not this! I stormed back to my chair and looked for a lighter.
"I'm from an alternate universe," he continued, "And you are my favorite book character. I've come here today because I know how this story ends and I want to help change it!"
"I know how it ends too," I said, finding a lighter under the seat cushion, "It ends with you getting off my ship before I find my neural disrupter!"
"No!" he said, "You don't understand! This is your last adventure! When you go back to the Amazonian Slave Pit and face down Queen Mammary she's going to release the Bikini Kill Squad and-"
"Hold it!" I interrupted, holding up a hand, "Amazonian Slave Pit? Son, I'm supposed to be on planet Jurrasico to enter into a Teerexoid Punching Contest right now. I don't know anything about an Amazonian Slave Pit and if I don't get this ship to Jurrasico then I won't be able to stop the VastoLord plan to destroy the Nymphette Rainforest."
The kid took a step back and looked confused.
"Planet Jurrasico?" he said, "You mean you haven't tossed the VastoLord into the heart of the eternal eruptions of Volcanicus?"
"Not a bad idea," I conceded, "But I first have to get him out to that neck of the woods."
"Drat!" the kid said, stamping his foot, "I arrived too early. I'll have to try again!"
"Yeah, about that," I said. He looked up and, face still frozen in a look of surprise, I hit him with both bores of the disrupter. His lifeless body collapsed on the deck and I settled into my chair.
Fanboys. Where were they coming from? This was the eighteenth I'd killed in the past year alone. He was probably right, of course. They usually were. I had died over and over again since I had joined the GaltiCorp. But someone always found a way to bring me back. I took a swig off my beer and turned the ship's AI back on.
"I'm going to need you to open the airlock for me," I told it, "I've got another body to dump." | My door was open, as it always was on those summer days. The docks were always teeming with activity then, before the fish were gone. Before the storm. Though rabble rousers and ruffians were the usual company, the dogs would alert me to any true trouble making its way down the worn planks leading to my step.
Lucy moved first. The old bear hound rose, ears up. Her snout followed a yet unseen figure tip-toeing past coils of rope and piles of nets stacked upon my float. Young Troll stopped his lazy tail chasing to follow Lucy's lead. "He'll learn," I thought and continued splicing rope. "People don't tip their hats round here, much less their toes."
Although I couldn't see the visitor, I knew by the apprehension they were young and not here for my wares. On occasion a youth would watch me work, some with dreams of apprenticeship, some of idle curiosity. This one was different. I decided to wait it out, pretending to be oblivious of the shuffling feet and quiet throat clearing. The dogs looked to me and back to the open door, quietly whining, tails wagging.
With a sigh I released them from their self restraint. "Well, go say hi." Young Troll bolted onto the back deck, scrabbling for traction on the freshly waxed surface. Lucy moved slower but with no less enthusiasm. They met the stranger with a howl, the young pup's intermittent yips harmonizing with the older one's gutteral lowing. "He's got a long way to go before he can scare a bear," I thought before grabbing my hat and following the ruckus.
"It's you!" The boy cried out before I could greet him.
"Whose asking?" I retorted, taken slightly aback by his tone. Net menders may be the unsung heroes of the docks, but they are rarely spoken to with such reverence.
"I uh...am." More feet shuffling.
"You...are?"
"Oh yes, I am." The dogs were taking turns assaulting his forearms with canine affection. Rarely had Lucy so much interest in anything but a dead fox. Troll hadn't learned to be disinterested, yet.
"Yer tongue tiptoes more than your feet. Can I help you?"
"Well, I just-"
"Spit it out boy! Ain't yers to keep!" The dogs responded to my agitation with confusion. Maybe I was too hard, they sure liked him. He continued to pet them in silence, scratching behind their ears with an eerie familiarity. I amended my approach. "Coffee?"
"Permission to board?" He asked eagerly.
I suppressed an eye roll. Clearly he had been waiting his whole life to ask. "Permission granted, just don't touch nothin."
Shortly after I exited the galley with two cups of thick coffee and some biscuits. The boy had planted himself in the middle of the deck, rolling around with Young Troll like litter mates. I handed my guest a biscuit. "For the dogs."
I sat at the table and rolled a cigarette, waiting for his story to unfold. The dogs soon tired and laid down next to him, crumbs of the rare treat stuck in Young Troll's chin hairs. Lucy groomed him as the boy began to speak.
"Well, Blind Betty," He corrected himself as I glared out my good eye. "I mean, Beth. I came here with a favor to ask though I have nothing to offer."
I raised my eyebrow and drew in on my cigarette. The silence prompted him to continue.
"I read your story, the one about the storm."
"Which storm?" I ashed my cigarette deliberately, rolling the cherry onto the metal edged tray and avoiding his gaze.
"It hasn't happened yet. You go out delivering those nets," He pointed to the yet unmended pile laid upon the docks. "And you run aground."
"Sounds like a good story." I had heard more insanity out of worse company. I decided to humor this one as well.
"I just...you can't let the dogs go with you!" His outburst shocked both the hounds and myself. Lucy let a low whine while I grappled with the icy dread this boy's conviction sparked.
I took a final draw on the cigarette and crushed it in the tray, using it as a crutch to regain composure. "Where I go, dogs go. That's the way it is." I added softly, "It wouldn't be my story without them." At this, Lucy and the pup perked their ears, tails wagging in unison before relaxing again.
"But the bear! It..."
I stopped him. "Don't tell me bout no mama bears. Don't tell me no more. We all got our troubles ahead, an I do my best with not knowin. It might just be harder if you know. It'd certainly be less interestin without the mystery. "
He buried his hands in Troll's coat as his face fell. They were so similar, I thought, so young. It was no wonder the dog was his favorite.
"You can't go changing the past. Maybe you woulda never got to meet Ol Lu an' Troll too had that..." My voice caught like fish in freshly mended nets. "Had that mama bear not been in the story. Hell, boy, she got her story too. You can't be goin round takin people's stories away. It's all we got."
"You're right Beth, I'm sorry. I mean thank you. I mean..." He trailed off, loosening his grasp on Troll's fur. Lucy shifted and settled in closer to the pair.
"You ain't mean, you tryna be nice." It suddenly seemed so late, like the wood stove had burned up and left a cold hearth where hours of heat should have been. I had the uneasy feeling pages in my story were being flipped forward ever faster, and there was nothing I could or wanted to do about it. You get resigned to that passing of time, but it sneaks up on you all the same.
"Thanks for listening, Beth. I guess that's all I wanted. You're right, I have my own story to write, and this one is yours." Tears welled in his eyes, but they didn't fall. This one would be grown soon enough. His tears would fall only for the harshest farewells and the greatest introductions.
Giving the dogs one last embrace before rising under the setting sun, the boy disembarked without fanfare. I noticed he didn't tiptoe or shuffle off; his shoulders were a little squarer and his footing sure.
I chuckled and looked to my two companions curled together. "Oh that one will swagger soon enough. One more before bed?" The familiar thud of two tails was a comfort as I reached for the last net.
| |
[WP] Your door bell rings. It's a person from an alternate universe, who says, "I just want you to know that you are my favorite book character and I know how it ends and I want to help change it" | (When I started writing this it was because I found it in /new and I was the first one.)
Silence permeated through the room like a tsunami of thick air. Oliver was laying on the floor of his Los Angeles studio, ways away from his home in England. Despite his fear of rejection, he proposed a date to Jacqueline. She was an American girl in his maths class at the local community college.
He wrote the rough draft of his proposal at 5:05, finished the last draft at 12:34, and finally sent it at 14:13. He was wearing a nice shirt, a blazer, and trousers. He cleaned his glasses compulsively, not breaking eye contact with his ceiling in fear of it going somewhere.
He finally received a text from her and realized that if she rejected his idea, he got dressed for naught. He unlocked his phone and felt his heart beating in his ears. She said she would love to and that she'd be right over. He texted her his address and waited. He got up and paced around his apartment wrapped by vines of anxiety. He shut his eyes and imagined images of his childhood in Surrey. He thought about how the vibrant colours of the park defied the blanket of clouds above. His panicked stroll down memory lane was interrupted by the sound of someone knocking on his door repeatedly. He took in a breath of cold air to soothe the flames in his stomach.
He opened the door and was met by a very muscular man as tall as a Christmas tree.
"Nathaniel Green?" he said in a voice so deep it felt like the ground was shaking beneath his trembling feet.
"Y-yes. Can I help you?" He managed. The expression of the man suddenly bloomed a petal of excitement. His demeanour went from lumbering lunatic to lumbering lunatic at Junior Prom.
"I just want you to know that you are my favourite book character and I know how it ends and I want to help change it." he explained.
"I don't understand. Is this a prank? I would prefer to have none of it, thank you." he replied.
"There's no time for this. She's going to be here any second, just don't use an ATM." the gruff man issued the ultimatum and left post-haste. He walked down the hall and through a door marked "broom closet". Nathaniel was confused by the warning. He checked his wallet and he had enough money for a casual lunch. He silently assured himself that one of the other guys in the shop downstairs set up this prank and that an ATM is stationary and could only hurt his pride.
He shut the door and returned inside. Moments later he heard a light knock at the door. He opened the door and was met by the lovely features of his date. Her glasses matched the shape of her face, her hair was like a silk waterfall of the night sky, and her smile was as beautiful as her warm chocolate eyes.
He was at a loss for words and his tornado of anxiety couldn't muster the power to move a feather.
Jacqueline could feel his nerves smothering him and greeted him first with standard pleasantries and an affectionate hug. Nathaniel reciprocated the gesture after snapping out of his introspective trance and felt more comfortable about the situation. He triple-checked locking the door behind him and they proceeded to walk down the hall to exit the building and get in her car. On his way, he noticed that he couldn't find the broom closet. Instead he simply saw a bare wall and thought nothing of it.
"Hey, I heard that new Revenge of Blade movie is coming out. Do you want to go see it after lunch?" she suggested. Nathaniel never enjoyed horror films, but he liked Jacqueline more.
"Of course, I'd love to. Just let me stop at the ATM first." Nathaniel remembered the strange man, but decided his date was more important to him. He walked downstairs to the convenience store and greeted the owner, Amir. He took out his wallet and walked over to the intersection of the sports drinks and potato crisps and put in his card. He checked his balance and was disappointed by his measly $38.47. He was about to withdraw all of his money when he heard multiple heavy footsteps and panicked murmurs.
"Nobody move, this is a robbery. You," he said, pointing a handgun at Amir "hands up. If you move an inch I'll turn your face into a doughnut. J, empty the register and whatever he's got. Check the back." he instructed his partner.
"Hey, hands up. Step away from the ATM." He shouted at Nathaniel. He walked over and grabbed Jacqueline. "Give me those earrings" he demanded, tightening his grip on her arm. Something clicked in Nathaniel's mind.
"Leave her alone." he said with his hands now at his sides and his feet planted firmly on the ground.
"Oh, we've got a hero now. I'll do whatever I want and you'll do whatever I say."
"What are you going to do? Shoot me?" | Henri wakes up to the sound of the door bell ringing, he gets off his couch. That was some crazy party last night, he throws some clothes on in a hurry and runs to the door. There is a man at the door in coat and tie.
"You are my favorite book character, I know how it ends, I'm here to help change how it ends."
Henri is hungover and he slams the door on the mystery man
" I don't have time for this shit, I have to get ready for work, it's Monday." He mumbles as he walks into his bedroom, he hears series of knocks, when he is expecting another knock....it doesn't come, he goes downstairs and sees an envelope that was slid under his front door.
P.S. My first WP reply, please give constructive criticism, sorry it's so short, thanks | |
[WP] Your door bell rings. It's a person from an alternate universe, who says, "I just want you to know that you are my favorite book character and I know how it ends and I want to help change it" | **DING DONG**
"Who the fuck and why?!" I cursed over the sounds of my coon hound baying.
"Jaaack, shut the hell up."
**DING DONG**
"Give me a fucking second, damn I need to put pants on."
Working nights made these especially annoying. Yeah 10 o'clock is fine for most people but when you go to bed at 5 am waking up before noon just makes you delerious and pissed.
I stumbled my way to the door wearing nothing but my pajama bottoms.
"Fuck them," I thought "if they didn't want to see me shirtless they shouldn't be here, they're fucking lucky I'm wearing pants."
I finally calm my dog down and get to the door. A man I have never seen is standing on the other side. I open the door.
"Yes?" I asked with a clear tone of annoyance.
"Hi, I'm sorry to bother you did....did I wake you?" The stranger asked.
"Yeah...I work nights, shit happens, can I help you?"
"Right. Yes. So this is going to sound crazy but I was reading this book. Something bad is going to happen to you. Very bad. I just need you to-"
"Not interested" I said while starting to close the door.
"No you don't understand, you're life is in da-"
CLUNK
"Fucking Mormons" I cursed on my way back to bed. | Henri wakes up to the sound of the door bell ringing, he gets off his couch. That was some crazy party last night, he throws some clothes on in a hurry and runs to the door. There is a man at the door in coat and tie.
"You are my favorite book character, I know how it ends, I'm here to help change how it ends."
Henri is hungover and he slams the door on the mystery man
" I don't have time for this shit, I have to get ready for work, it's Monday." He mumbles as he walks into his bedroom, he hears series of knocks, when he is expecting another knock....it doesn't come, he goes downstairs and sees an envelope that was slid under his front door.
P.S. My first WP reply, please give constructive criticism, sorry it's so short, thanks | |
[WP] Your door bell rings. It's a person from an alternate universe, who says, "I just want you to know that you are my favorite book character and I know how it ends and I want to help change it" | "Your favorite... What?" I ask.
I'm a writer and this small, blonde lady isn't intimidating. At best she's good material and at worst she's just interrupted my Sunday afternoon bourbon drinking.
"Character," she says, quietly. Nervously.
"Okay," I say, smiling congenially. She's wearing a tank top and cutoffs, she's not carrying... Though I wonder how she made it past the gate guards.
She thrusts a handful of yellowed pages into my hand. Tears stripe down her perfectly powdered cheeks. She turns and jogs away down my winding drive.
I have a weird sense of deja vue.
I glance down at the pages.
"This time, read them!" the tear stained, hand written scrawl across the top of the first page says.
Against my better judgement, I do.
I walk down the lane, through the cool dark shade of 2 dozen cedars. She stands there, her back to me.
"You'll love me?" she asks.
"I'll try to, " I say.
Her breath hitches.
"I hope so," she says.
She is th the happy ending I've avoided for so long. | Henri wakes up to the sound of the door bell ringing, he gets off his couch. That was some crazy party last night, he throws some clothes on in a hurry and runs to the door. There is a man at the door in coat and tie.
"You are my favorite book character, I know how it ends, I'm here to help change how it ends."
Henri is hungover and he slams the door on the mystery man
" I don't have time for this shit, I have to get ready for work, it's Monday." He mumbles as he walks into his bedroom, he hears series of knocks, when he is expecting another knock....it doesn't come, he goes downstairs and sees an envelope that was slid under his front door.
P.S. My first WP reply, please give constructive criticism, sorry it's so short, thanks | |
[WP] Your door bell rings. It's a person from an alternate universe, who says, "I just want you to know that you are my favorite book character and I know how it ends and I want to help change it" | "Come again?"
"I said, I just want you to know that you're my fav-"
"Yeah, I meant explain it, not repeat it."
She looked at me like I had just made her day. usually the people I shut down or yell at don't react like that, but she was practically giddy.
"You're just like the books. Snarky, clever, and meeeean!" I wasn't fond of people gushing, but I wondered if I was supposed to be complimented by that.
"Come on, out with it or I'm going to close the door and go back to jacking it."
Somehow she was unfazed by that, maybe she did know me. "Well look, you see, in my universe, you're a fictional character, people read books starring... well... You."
"And... I'm popular?"
"Tremendously so, you're amazing! People love you! You're a best seller!"
"That's completely ridiculous. On this world, or any other world, the idea that I would end up as a beloved character is completely ridiculous. Please find whatever medication you're supposed to be taking, take twice that amount, and then check yourself back into whatever mental hospital you escaped from."
Again she looked delighted, it was like there was no mean thing I could say to this girl that would turn her away, I even briefly contemplated being nice just to try something different, but I don't think my heart could take it. I started to close the door as she shoved herself between the door and the frame.
"WAIT, Seriously! You have to listen to me. This is life and death here, super important stuff. Please please please just listen to me and then you can throw me out or call the cops or whatever."
"Look, I'm going to let you say whatever ridiculous bullshit you came here to say, if for no other reason than I don't really want any of your blood on my door." Then again, she was a cutie. A crazy cutie of course, but she had bad taste, something that worked innately in my favor.
"Ok, on my Earth, our time is slightly ahead of yours, so I've already read your latest novel, which happens about a week from now. You're very lucky I went to the midnight release for it because otherwise I wouldn't have finished it fast enough to make it here in time. I even got the author to sign a copy and she's notoriously reclusive so it was -"
"Just get to the point."
"Ok. Look, you die at the end. You die and I don't want you to."
I closed my eyes and shook my head slowly. "Who sent you, really?"
"I'm serious... You know what you're going to do already, I just want you to rethink it. You matter, you matter so much more than you know. You... You matter to me."
"And you think to tell me this now? It's good to know that I manage to kill myself though, I'd been losing sleep over whether or not I'd manage to do it in one shot, or I'd lay on the floor, writhing in pain as I lamented missing my brain at close range."
Tears began to well up in her eyes. I'd never done well with girls who cried. Or really people who cried. Or even people in general. It was weird to frame it like that, but there was no spectrum of human emotion that I was particularly comfortable with, and this girl had spent the better part of a half an hour displaying all of them. Maybe that's why I found her revolting and interesting in the same breath.
"You can't talk that way. You're my absolute favorite, like I said, everyone loves you..."
"I'm not living my life for anyone else, I'm not staying alive just so you and your perverted voyeurs can get your jollies off at my expense. And if I hadn't already decided to dispose of myself, the first thing I'd do was go find that author of yours and get some long overdue residuals. If I'm that famous I'm sure there's a movie deal out there that I'm getting fucked over."
The tears were starting to fall rather freely from her cheeks, and before I realized it, they were falling from mine too. It hurt to talk like this all the time, it hurt to be me sometimes... most of the time... probably all of the time really.
"Maybe I'm a celebrity over there, but I'm not shit here, I don't mean a god damn over here. I'm a nobody, a very unhappy, misanthropic nobody."
"So... come back with me."
"It... works like that?"
"I mean I got here didn't I? Yeah I can take you back with me. I'm not supposed to really, there are some rules attached to it, but my friends are going to be soooo jealous, I mean come on, I get to meet you AND save your life? It's like amazing. And I mean... You deserve a chance to be happy."
"I always figured I deserved a lot of things I wasn't going to get."
"Well, now It's up to you."
"Fuck."
I sighed, opened up the door the rest of the way and just left it hanging open now, I didn't care who came in anymore.
"So that means...?"
"Come in, take a seat, grab a soda or something. I'm going to pack a bag or two. And If I don't like this new dimension, I'm getting that bastard author of yours to write me a fat check and I'm catching the first whatever back to this shit hole so I can go through with my initial plans."
She nodded her head, barely able to contain her excitement. I was more excited than I wanted to be. Maybe I should just be happy for myself... for once... for ever.
Edit - I'd love some feedback, I'm trying to get better (Or at least less bad). | Henri wakes up to the sound of the door bell ringing, he gets off his couch. That was some crazy party last night, he throws some clothes on in a hurry and runs to the door. There is a man at the door in coat and tie.
"You are my favorite book character, I know how it ends, I'm here to help change how it ends."
Henri is hungover and he slams the door on the mystery man
" I don't have time for this shit, I have to get ready for work, it's Monday." He mumbles as he walks into his bedroom, he hears series of knocks, when he is expecting another knock....it doesn't come, he goes downstairs and sees an envelope that was slid under his front door.
P.S. My first WP reply, please give constructive criticism, sorry it's so short, thanks | |
[WP] Your door bell rings. It's a person from an alternate universe, who says, "I just want you to know that you are my favorite book character and I know how it ends and I want to help change it" | "What?" I asked.
The young tanned boy with long black hair nodded, "Yup. I come from Sector 521. It's in a parallel universe a few atomic seconds ahead of yours. You humans haven't discovered much about that stuff yet though," he closed his eyes and smiled.
I looked around outside: it began snowing a few days prior and hadn't let up. My parents were away for the weekend with my younger brother and sister. I had school and had to stay home. Minding your business is difficult when things like this happen. The kid had on what looked like white spandex, and wore a giant white coat. He had no shoes on, but that didn't seem to bother him too much.
I had a glass of red in my hand and decided to take a generous gulp. "Listen kid, it's cold outside. Why don't you go on home," I tried to be mean about it. He didn't seem to notice or care.
"Nope! I'm not going home until you let me help you. I know how it all ends, and I have the power to stop it!" He held up a small light blue watch. It blinked rapidly. It seemed to be as excited as he was.
I took another couple gulps, "You say you're from another universe..."
The boy nodded.
"And that I'm your favorite character in your favorite novel... that exists inside of *only* your universe..." I said trying to make sure I heard it right.
"Yup! I can't let you die! Not if I can stop it!" He bounced up a little when he said it.
I sighed and looked up at the still, white sky. With the door still open, I sat down on its ledge and motioned for the boy to sit. He looked at me quizzically and obliged.
I finished my glass of wine and set it down inside behind me. I crossed my hands and looked out into the cold, still world. The boy seemed momentarily confused and then looked out as well.
"You know what I like most about the snow?" I asked through a now-foggy pair of glasses.
"Page 287, chapter 10: It's like time itself is as frozen as the world around me," said the boy with an upbeat tone.
I grunted and smiled, "Yes."
The boy and I stared out at the falling snow for quite a while. There was no wind in the trees. It wasn't bitterly cold; only just enough for the wonderland and hot steamy breaths to ensue. I didn't say a word, and simply looked. The boy looked at me, hoping I would say something. Finally, after a few moments his face dropped and his expression became grim.
"You won't let me help you, will you?" He asked on the verge of tears.
I took off my glasses and rubbed away the fog with the cuff of my long sleeve shirt, "No. No I will not," I said after putting them back on.
"Why?" He asked. His blue eyes reflected the world around us, and in them I saw the hope of child beginning to fade away.
I would've gone back to saying nothing; that's just how I am. I decided against that thought, "Because nothing in this, or any universe, is permanent. You being here now has greatly affected the way that my future will eventually play out. I expect that when you return to your world, that it will be much the same. You must understand this, " I said to him, already saying more to him than I did to any other person in the past couple weeks.
He looked down to the ground and his hair sagged with him, "I know," he said. The watch on his wrist seemed to reflect his moods. I said nothing for a moment.
"I want you to have something," I said. The boy looked at me with an odd expression. I took off the necklace I was wearing: it was a simple thin rope that held a yin-yang symbol in the shape of a gear. I handed it to him and he gently held it in both his hands. He wordlessly put it around his neck and stood. I watched him with a growing sense of sadness. He descended the three steps and paused on my walkway. He turned and looked at me for the last time. A tear rolled down his cheek, "It doesn't have to end like this," he said.
I stared at him harshly, "Yes it does. We live in an uncertain universe. We think we have the answers to every question, yet every question we answer only produces more questions. We can hope that we we'll be ready for what is to come, yet we'll always forever be in the dark," I said.
The boy seemed to get frightened. I continued, "Just Remember: All Eventually Fades. As long as you remember that nothing is forever, you can live your life happily, free of the veil and chains. Do not fear my friend," I said. I stood up slowly. The boy watched my every move.
"The snow..." I said closing my eyes and smiling, "it takes my imagination to another universe." Just then, a blood vessel in my right temple popped. My head jittered back and I fell forward. Darkness flooded my vision, and the world ceased to be. | Henri wakes up to the sound of the door bell ringing, he gets off his couch. That was some crazy party last night, he throws some clothes on in a hurry and runs to the door. There is a man at the door in coat and tie.
"You are my favorite book character, I know how it ends, I'm here to help change how it ends."
Henri is hungover and he slams the door on the mystery man
" I don't have time for this shit, I have to get ready for work, it's Monday." He mumbles as he walks into his bedroom, he hears series of knocks, when he is expecting another knock....it doesn't come, he goes downstairs and sees an envelope that was slid under his front door.
P.S. My first WP reply, please give constructive criticism, sorry it's so short, thanks | |
[WP] Your door bell rings. It's a person from an alternate universe, who says, "I just want you to know that you are my favorite book character and I know how it ends and I want to help change it" | I stare confused. The kid gives me his best "I'm serious, but crazy psyched to be here, but totally serious" face. I think, 'whatever', how this last week has been- shit can't get any more weird. I look the kid up and down. Make sure he knows what he's in for. He seems legit. I guess. Hell, he could have been a figment of my imagination, doesn't matter much now.
A deep "Thump" shakes the world. He looks all around. I've grown use to them.
"So you want in?"
He shakes his head enthusiastically, trying his best to hold back a "HOLY FUCKING SHIT" smile.
"Alright". I hold out my fist. He gets his game face on; throws his fist out. --EPIC BRO-FIST-- I slide the sunglasses out of my pocket and onto my nose thingy.
Again, from the outside world. "THUMP"
"Let's light... wait" I step back in to my apartment. A few clicks of my mouse and I'm heading to the door. As I step out I take a second to face the kid. The Who, "We Won't Get Fooled Again" blares in the background.
"Alright, let's light this bitch up". Sunglasses on as Roger Daltery belts out "YEEEEAAAA!" Slam the door, fuck the lock, fuck the music- it's go time. We head out the fake spanish courtyard and to the parking lot.
Diagonally parked across 3 spaces is a black slightly used 68 Dodge Charger B Body with the coveted R/T logo. It's got a few dents and scrapes, but like Han says about the Falcon, it gives it character. I fling the door drivers door open and fall into the seat like I'm being cached by my guardian angel. The kid has to put his weight into the passenger's side door to get it open. He slides into the black vinyl seat. Again, he has to muscle the door closed.
"They're a bit heavier than today. The is a relic from a by gone era". I start to turn the key. "A time of steel-" ignition- gas- it roars muscle thunder "- and fire"
"So you know the game plan, right?"
"You don't have a game plan" he screams over the 426 Hemi.
I give him a crooked smile and nod. The kid's done his homework.
Clutch, first gear, gas and were screaming down the highway. It doesn't take long. Over the first slight crest in the landscape and we see it. 40 stories of iron hell, The Mechasaur. A solid iron clockwork, steam-punk tyrannosaurs tearing a path of devastation though, The Town. Ear shattering screams split the air as fire shoots from it's eyes and a locomotive size chainsaw whip lashes from its gaping maw. Explosions leap off it's iron hide. The scoured and dented juggernaut lumbers on.
I start running some game plans though my head. The road will take us right to it. Though destruction erupts all around us we have a clean shot to the base of the beast.
"Okay, kid. Here's my plan"
'Click', a pinch on my wrist. I look down. A hand cuff, what the fuck! At this moment I loose that precious barrier between me and my inner monolog.
"What the fuck" to confused to do anything else I stare at the kid with equal parts astonishment and disappointment.
He's trying to get a lot out in a short time, he talks quickly. "Sorry, I never liked how the story ended."
"HOW THE FUCK IS THIS BETTER?"
"Look, you live, alright, you defeat the Mechasur. But you take the fall for everything that's happened. The Chaos Portals, the interdimensional alien invasions, all of it. You become the fall guy for everything. But you are suppose to be the hero"
I'm scrambling to comprehend, "What, like in Ghostbusters 2"
A gentle hand rest on my shoulder and he says with the most honest pity a true humanitarian could summon, "Yes, just like in Ghostbusters 2".
I look back at the road. A 160 mile per hour Mechasaur foot begins to take up the entire windshield.
"Click"..."thump" The kid just bailed out of car. The door bounces to close in the wind but won't latch.
"Well, Fuck me". Denial sets in.
"WHAT!? No, no no! This can't be right. I can't die. I mean two days ago the ghost of Neil Armstrong helped me steal an Apache Attack Helicopter from Area 51. Together we shot down the Illuminati Zeppelin before they could activate the Omega Crystal. I just translated the Atlantis Hyper-fusion codex yesterday. I haven't even time traveled yet, not event once. I don't know if the fucking thing even works! GOD DAMNIT! And now, some punk ass kid is going to hand cuff me to the steering wheel of my fucking dream car. This is Bull-shit. This is fucking bu-" BAM!
The pinnacle of American automobile design known as the Charger B Body disintegrates as it slams into the clanging ankle of the Mechasaur. I don't know what happened next. But some how know that in the end, I die a hero. Thanks kid.
Edit: no time to proof read worth a shit
| Henri wakes up to the sound of the door bell ringing, he gets off his couch. That was some crazy party last night, he throws some clothes on in a hurry and runs to the door. There is a man at the door in coat and tie.
"You are my favorite book character, I know how it ends, I'm here to help change how it ends."
Henri is hungover and he slams the door on the mystery man
" I don't have time for this shit, I have to get ready for work, it's Monday." He mumbles as he walks into his bedroom, he hears series of knocks, when he is expecting another knock....it doesn't come, he goes downstairs and sees an envelope that was slid under his front door.
P.S. My first WP reply, please give constructive criticism, sorry it's so short, thanks | |
[WP] Your door bell rings. It's a person from an alternate universe, who says, "I just want you to know that you are my favorite book character and I know how it ends and I want to help change it" | (From the door-ringer's perspective.)
I stood in front of the dilapidated brick house, double checking the address. Even though I knew what I was looking for, it had been unnaturally difficult to find. I probably passed it numerous times without noticing. The bell didn't seem to make any sound so I slapped the solid wood door for good measure.
The door opened just enough that he could barricade the gap with his body. Every line of his face was harsh and unwelcoming as he glared at his guest. I imagined I only had a few seconds before he would slam the door shut.
"Professor Snape, I need to speak to you. I know about the horcruxes and deathly hallows and the prophesy---"
I was invited in with a forceful yank. The door slammed shut behind me and *muffliato* as well as a few other spell I couldn't catch but were probably wards were cast. When he turned back to face me his expression was somehow more hostile than before.
"Who are you," he demanded, "why are you here?"
"I'm a muggle but from an alternate world about 16 or 17 years ahead of you. There is no magic in my world but we have a book, a children's story, about your world up to around the fall of Voldemort. Sorry," I apologize when he hissed at the name. "I know how it ends and I want to help change it because you die before Vol-uh-you-know-who is defeated. You're my favorite character. I want you to live, you deserve to live and be recognized for all you did for the Wizarding World. I know this must sound hard to believe, but you're a legilimens. You know I'm not lying but I can also take Veritaserum."
He made a dismissive gesture so I continued with my retelling of the last book focusing on the battle of Hogwarts, the events leading up to his death by Nagini in the Shrieking Shack, his memories, ownership of the Elder wand, the destruction of the Horcruxes, Voldemort's demise, and how Harry survived death. Snape occasionally made a sniping comment or asked for clarification but otherwise said little through the long explanation. I tried to cram in every important and unimportant detail I could recall.
Then he grilled me on events that had already come to pass in this world to test the accuracy of my information. Everything matched up and in some cases I was able to fill in some gaps in his knowledge.
"And the Dark Lord truly dies?" He asked finally.
"Yes, for good. Never to return. Stuck in Limbo forever because he tore his soul apart." I assured. And then remembering the purpose of my trip. "You must remember not to go to the Shrieking Shack."
He looked thoughtful so I continued.
"You-know-who believes you are master of the Elder Wand. Nagini will bite you." I reminded him so he wouldn't forget. Even if he forgot everything else, he had to remember this.
"And yet this might be the best chance for the Wizarding World if what you say is true."
"I -- what?!" I yelped in shock. "No! You can't mean --- You. You will die!" I stammered, my voice rising so he might better understand.
"I had not be able to come up with a way to speak to the Potter boy and make him trust me but this he will believe. He will believe the memories. But no spell exists, as far as I know, to make memories exude from your eyes and nose and ears. Was that not explained in the book?" He asked, but when I proved speechless he continued on.
"Perhaps a potion to bind memory to bodily fluid. That could explain why these memories were silver-blue and neither liquid nor gas, opposed to the typical silver hair like whisps. A potion mixed with legilimency technique and wandless magic, it will take time to develop. And I must make the sword of Griffindor avaliable to Mr. Longbottom before I am ousted from Hogwarts, as you put it."
"So you are going to your death. Knowlingly. That's Harry Potter's job. Stupid and reckless. I didnt know you were so Griffindor, valuing mindless courage over cunning. Where's your Slytherin resourcefulness and sense of self-preservation."
"No, it would be stupid and reckless to not use your information and let this chance escape. You've provided answers to many unsolved problems and shown us a single way to permanently rid ourselves of the Dark Lord. It is a narrow path but it is guarenteed. As knowledgeable as you may be, even you cannot know what will happen if we deviate from this course. I survived so long on my determination to see the Dark Lord fall, and had enough cunning and resourcefulness to play the faithful servant while doing so. I will not see my efforts fail. I will make the necessary preparations. I thank you for your information."
"But you will not see him fall, you will be dead." I tried one last time.
"I may not survive the battle but until that day I will live and prepare my victory. And I will die knowing and that is enough."
(Well I might have gotten a bit lost at the end but too tired to fix it) | Henri wakes up to the sound of the door bell ringing, he gets off his couch. That was some crazy party last night, he throws some clothes on in a hurry and runs to the door. There is a man at the door in coat and tie.
"You are my favorite book character, I know how it ends, I'm here to help change how it ends."
Henri is hungover and he slams the door on the mystery man
" I don't have time for this shit, I have to get ready for work, it's Monday." He mumbles as he walks into his bedroom, he hears series of knocks, when he is expecting another knock....it doesn't come, he goes downstairs and sees an envelope that was slid under his front door.
P.S. My first WP reply, please give constructive criticism, sorry it's so short, thanks | |
[WP] Your door bell rings. It's a person from an alternate universe, who says, "I just want you to know that you are my favorite book character and I know how it ends and I want to help change it" | Waking up in the afternoon, I set about preparing for my next night shift. Cooking a late lunch, cleaning the house, reading the news. Everyday mundane stuff. Funny how my life has been a complete routine ever since I graduated with a degree years ago. As a child I always wanted to travel to Africa to see its wildlife. Stop the poaching of the white rhinos. Watch the cheetahs skim over the plains. All of that, gone, as the cold truth of reality crashed down upon my childish dreams.
4.50pm. Time to head out to work. Opening the door, I found a wide-eyed child right outside, gazing at me.
"Holy faeries it IS you! You're the Guide of a Roadless Path!"
Logic completely eluded me, as I stared back at him in confusion. "...what?"
"You're the hero that brought King Pate out when he was lost in the Forest of Fallen Giants! That volume was completely awesome! Oh!Oh! You also led the Warden to Lady Emma of the Brecilian Wastelands! And lest I forget, the chapter where you-"
Still confused, I looked around for anything out of the ordinary. This child was rambling on and on about mythical heroes and adventures. Placing a finger on his lip, I looked at him in the eye. "Ok kid, you've completely lost me now. Look at me, standard blues? Department Crest? Clearly not a person to lead kings around in wastelands. You've clearly got the wrong person. Now if you'll excuse me."
Motioning him to move aside, I stepped out of my house and began to lock the door. If there were any camera crew filming this down for some "only for gags" show, I'm having none of it. The child mumbled to himself, looking crestfallen.
"I just want you to know that you're my favorite book character and I know how it ends and I want to help change it! You can't be happy with such a bland ending can you?"
I sighed. "Look kid, you may have time to role-play anytime. But don't bring adults into the mix yeah? We have work to do, and that's important. Go back home; I'm sure your mother has a nice warm cup of chocolate waiting for you."
He stood there, dumbfounded, as I walked to my car. After all, work's more important right? | Henri wakes up to the sound of the door bell ringing, he gets off his couch. That was some crazy party last night, he throws some clothes on in a hurry and runs to the door. There is a man at the door in coat and tie.
"You are my favorite book character, I know how it ends, I'm here to help change how it ends."
Henri is hungover and he slams the door on the mystery man
" I don't have time for this shit, I have to get ready for work, it's Monday." He mumbles as he walks into his bedroom, he hears series of knocks, when he is expecting another knock....it doesn't come, he goes downstairs and sees an envelope that was slid under his front door.
P.S. My first WP reply, please give constructive criticism, sorry it's so short, thanks | |
[WP] Your door bell rings. It's a person from an alternate universe, who says, "I just want you to know that you are my favorite book character and I know how it ends and I want to help change it" | "Nagini, go look from the window who wants to crash our party," I hiss in Parseltongue.
My Death Eaters shift uncomfortably in their chairs at this unexpected arrival and Nagini slithers out of the Malfoys' meeting room.
Lucius speaks up in a frightened voice, "My Lord, if I may request your permission to go check as well..." and his voice trails off.
Applying Legilimency, I realise as I had suspected that it's just plain old cowardice over whether his kid might be in danger. *We can continue without him,* I think to myself.
"Very well, Lucius. Whoever it is, bring them here this instant. We will not wait for you to resume our planning for Potter."
Lucius bows and goes out. Silence falls for a few seconds.
Nagini returns and hisses, "A Mudblood is at the gates. Malfoy is bringing him here." With that, she comes over to me, curls up and lies down beside my feet.
In another few seconds, Lucius returns with his wand pointed at a boy who must have been no older than 18.
"My Lord, this kid has the audacity to request an audience with you!"
Bellatrix furiously gets up from her chair and points her wand at him but I motion for her to sit. Reluctantly, she settles back down.
I had been studying this young man for a second and looking into his mind, I could see he wanted to say something desperately.
"Speak," I softly command him.
The boy, already quite intimidated and nervous, tries to put together some words, "My- my Lord, I'm fr-from another universe. This-this may sound... strange, but a book series has been written on you and- and that Potter kid. You're my favourite character, my Lord, and you- you-" and his voice breaks as he looks down at his feet, trembling.
"I said speak, filthy Muggle," I snarled, getting annoyed.
"My- my Lord, you... I know how it ends and it's bad for you. I- I want to help change it which is why I managed to somehow get here..."
All the Death Eaters are staring incredulously at him but only I know that he is speaking what is surely the truth for him.
*He may have some information but a Muggle-born from a Muggle world surely cannot know anything. Probably just a mudblood who got his head muddled up by some spell. It is his truth that he believes in, not necessarily the truth. And how dare he think he, a barely of age Muggle, can help the greatest wizard ever?*
I ponder over it all for another second before I motion Nagini to go get her dinner. | Henri wakes up to the sound of the door bell ringing, he gets off his couch. That was some crazy party last night, he throws some clothes on in a hurry and runs to the door. There is a man at the door in coat and tie.
"You are my favorite book character, I know how it ends, I'm here to help change how it ends."
Henri is hungover and he slams the door on the mystery man
" I don't have time for this shit, I have to get ready for work, it's Monday." He mumbles as he walks into his bedroom, he hears series of knocks, when he is expecting another knock....it doesn't come, he goes downstairs and sees an envelope that was slid under his front door.
P.S. My first WP reply, please give constructive criticism, sorry it's so short, thanks | |
[WP] Your door bell rings. It's a person from an alternate universe, who says, "I just want you to know that you are my favorite book character and I know how it ends and I want to help change it" | Losing a family member is never easy.
It is easier, however, when your Great Aunt Ruth who you only met when you were two years old passes away in her sleep from natural causes in her home in Wisconsin. Death is death, but some kinds are better than others.
I never had a Great Aunt Ruth. Sometimes I pretend I did, though. It's a lot easier that way, to forget about my mother and think of an imaginary old lady dying peacefully in her sleep.
Murder is too harsh a reality for a five year old. When dad suddenly comes to get you from school every day like mom used to, things are different...but nothing is really wrong if you don't know the truth. They always say ignorance is bliss, and so it is - at least until the veil of ignorance falls away. Age does that, you know. Innocence can be bliss, too, and it lasts until a certain age where you start thinking enough on your own to figure things out.
It was my twelfth birthday. I had spent the morning wishing my mom could be there instead of off traveling like she had been for so many of my birthdays before, and then it suddenly clicked. She was gone, and she was never coming back.
I lost it. I screamed, I threw things, I tried to hold my breath until I passed out. I wanted to die, too, then maybe things would be even.
When my dad walked in the door that afternoon, I was ready to attack him physically and emotionally. I was hurt and disillusioned, and nothing he could say would fix that.
But when he walked in the door, something was off. He knew I had figured it all out, and I knew that he knew. He slumped into the chair right across from me and just stared at me. I still remember the look he gave me - hollow and emotionless, the look of someone who had nothing left inside of him.
"Luke, your sister.." His words were barely words, a guttural moan that sounded like death itself. "My only daughter." He paused, forgetting I was even in the room with him as he folded into himself.
"There was an accident...drunk driver...car rolled...Oh, God."
I can't remember any other time in my life that I saw my dad cry. I wanted to comfort him, but I had nothing to say. I just sat there, motionless.
It was my eighteenth birthday. I wasn't surprised to hear he'd done it. That didn't keep the hurt away, but I knew my dad was only ever hanging on by a thread after my sister's death. At least he'd had the grace to wait until I was an adult. Kept me out of foster care, which I should be thankful for.
I'm not, though. Hearing the last of your family members blew his brains out in the middle of a crowded subway station will do that to you.
And so here I sit, writing this with my right hand as I hold my dad's prescription anti-depressant bottle in my left - still full from years earlier. Probably enough to take down an elephant, and it's not like I was ever a big guy anyway. So here goes - goodbye, world.
*The doorbell rings.*
*Luke looks up, thinks for a second, and lets the bottle of pills fall to the floor. Still clutching his pen, he walks to the front door and swings it open tentatively to find a stranger standing on the porch.*
*"Luke - I just want you to know that you are my favorite book character. I know how it ends, and I want to help change it."* | Henri wakes up to the sound of the door bell ringing, he gets off his couch. That was some crazy party last night, he throws some clothes on in a hurry and runs to the door. There is a man at the door in coat and tie.
"You are my favorite book character, I know how it ends, I'm here to help change how it ends."
Henri is hungover and he slams the door on the mystery man
" I don't have time for this shit, I have to get ready for work, it's Monday." He mumbles as he walks into his bedroom, he hears series of knocks, when he is expecting another knock....it doesn't come, he goes downstairs and sees an envelope that was slid under his front door.
P.S. My first WP reply, please give constructive criticism, sorry it's so short, thanks | |
[WP] Your door bell rings. It's a person from an alternate universe, who says, "I just want you to know that you are my favorite book character and I know how it ends and I want to help change it" | I'm pretty sure I didn't order anything. I'm not expecting guests either. I suppose it's for someone else. Now a knock on the door.
"Someone weird's at the door for you." My flat mate tells me, walking away. Well, that's a little unexpected. I pause my show and roll out of bed. Maybe I should get out of my pajamas, but... who am I kidding, that requires far too much effort.
"Oh my God! It's you!" He gasps, apparently lacking for breath. His long hair covers his eyes, so I only see the grin on his face.
"...Yes?" I say, obviously confused. I'm me. That seems self-evident.
"Welll... How do I say this. I just want you to know that you are my favorite book character and I know how it ends and I want to help change it."
I smirk. Someone must be high.
"What?" I stutter. He must have the wrong guy, but that feels too cliche to say.
"No, it's true! You were just thinking how I'm the wrong guy. Then you slam the door and go upstairs after making an excuse. And write about it online."
Alright, if you insist.
His foot blocks the way.
"But that's what I need to change." The door flings open, throwing me back onto the stairs. "I'm sorry! Oh, this is exciting, I don't know what's going to happen now. You were going to... well, spoilers. I know how you hate them, even if they aren't going to happen! Suffice to say, now I've broken in... you're safe!"
I hit my head on the stairs on the way down, so couldn't really think of what the hell to do. I could hope someone would come and save me, but most situations don't solve themselves.
"You see... this is the end of the book. It's a bit complicated, but I read about you. My book exists in your world too, even if you haven't read it just yet. But I really don't want yours to end...and so long as things keep happening the book can't end right?" He smiles. It widens into a sneer. His eyes go wide. I start to stand up, but he doesn't like that. He pulls out a gun and points it at me.
"Oh wow, you're scared! Usually you shrug it all off. Nothing gets to you. This is exciting!" Like hell it is. This guys gone crazy. I can hear the unsteady rhythm of my heart. If life had a climax, this would be it. I try to shout but he rushes forward and covers my mouth.
"Don't get anyone else involved! Your at you're best when it's just you and your thoughts, really. I wouldn't want to waste my time reading about anyone else, having Dave answer the door was bad enough!" He drags my hair, forcing me out of the house. I'm tossed aside and my ass meets the mud. I look at him. I stare down the gun's barrel. He lunges at me. I lift my arms. If I can just pry the gun away I might stand a chance.
I've got the gun. But so does he. We wrestle for control. If it fires now it won't hit me. I have the gun facing him. The trigger is missing. His head presses against the barrel. He screams.
"Ooh, it's a shame I can't read this... what a plot twist this'll be."
The gun fires. He shot it. Blood splats over my face. A window breaks. I hear a high pitched buzzing. It's the fire alarm. The dead lunatic's body falls backwards. He was wearing gloves. And I have his gun. And I shot him.
I've got to run. | Henri wakes up to the sound of the door bell ringing, he gets off his couch. That was some crazy party last night, he throws some clothes on in a hurry and runs to the door. There is a man at the door in coat and tie.
"You are my favorite book character, I know how it ends, I'm here to help change how it ends."
Henri is hungover and he slams the door on the mystery man
" I don't have time for this shit, I have to get ready for work, it's Monday." He mumbles as he walks into his bedroom, he hears series of knocks, when he is expecting another knock....it doesn't come, he goes downstairs and sees an envelope that was slid under his front door.
P.S. My first WP reply, please give constructive criticism, sorry it's so short, thanks | |
[WP] Your door bell rings. It's a person from an alternate universe, who says, "I just want you to know that you are my favorite book character and I know how it ends and I want to help change it" | **DING DONG**
"Who the fuck and why?!" I cursed over the sounds of my coon hound baying.
"Jaaack, shut the hell up."
**DING DONG**
"Give me a fucking second, damn I need to put pants on."
Working nights made these especially annoying. Yeah 10 o'clock is fine for most people but when you go to bed at 5 am waking up before noon just makes you delerious and pissed.
I stumbled my way to the door wearing nothing but my pajama bottoms.
"Fuck them," I thought "if they didn't want to see me shirtless they shouldn't be here, they're fucking lucky I'm wearing pants."
I finally calm my dog down and get to the door. A man I have never seen is standing on the other side. I open the door.
"Yes?" I asked with a clear tone of annoyance.
"Hi, I'm sorry to bother you did....did I wake you?" The stranger asked.
"Yeah...I work nights, shit happens, can I help you?"
"Right. Yes. So this is going to sound crazy but I was reading this book. Something bad is going to happen to you. Very bad. I just need you to-"
"Not interested" I said while starting to close the door.
"No you don't understand, you're life is in da-"
CLUNK
"Fucking Mormons" I cursed on my way back to bed. | I'm ninety percent sure my life would make b the worst book ever. When this ass hole with his glowing boots tells me I'm his favorite v book character I simply laugh. The door than gets slammed in that crazy fucks face. I do not have the time to deal with this. Not today.
Of course when a stranger writes you a note telling you major points of your life, or what I really think about my neighbour... That's when you call the cops. Crazy stalker douche. I heard he's stuck in jail, too, they say his id said 2030. Crazy fuck really went all out. I hope they keep him there, shit like that scares me.
Tell you what, crazy future man, if bombs start dropping and I become some crazy bad ass leader, I'll break you out of prison myself. | |
[WP] Your door bell rings. It's a person from an alternate universe, who says, "I just want you to know that you are my favorite book character and I know how it ends and I want to help change it" | "Your favorite... What?" I ask.
I'm a writer and this small, blonde lady isn't intimidating. At best she's good material and at worst she's just interrupted my Sunday afternoon bourbon drinking.
"Character," she says, quietly. Nervously.
"Okay," I say, smiling congenially. She's wearing a tank top and cutoffs, she's not carrying... Though I wonder how she made it past the gate guards.
She thrusts a handful of yellowed pages into my hand. Tears stripe down her perfectly powdered cheeks. She turns and jogs away down my winding drive.
I have a weird sense of deja vue.
I glance down at the pages.
"This time, read them!" the tear stained, hand written scrawl across the top of the first page says.
Against my better judgement, I do.
I walk down the lane, through the cool dark shade of 2 dozen cedars. She stands there, her back to me.
"You'll love me?" she asks.
"I'll try to, " I say.
Her breath hitches.
"I hope so," she says.
She is th the happy ending I've avoided for so long. | I'm ninety percent sure my life would make b the worst book ever. When this ass hole with his glowing boots tells me I'm his favorite v book character I simply laugh. The door than gets slammed in that crazy fucks face. I do not have the time to deal with this. Not today.
Of course when a stranger writes you a note telling you major points of your life, or what I really think about my neighbour... That's when you call the cops. Crazy stalker douche. I heard he's stuck in jail, too, they say his id said 2030. Crazy fuck really went all out. I hope they keep him there, shit like that scares me.
Tell you what, crazy future man, if bombs start dropping and I become some crazy bad ass leader, I'll break you out of prison myself. | |
[WP] Your door bell rings. It's a person from an alternate universe, who says, "I just want you to know that you are my favorite book character and I know how it ends and I want to help change it" | "Come again?"
"I said, I just want you to know that you're my fav-"
"Yeah, I meant explain it, not repeat it."
She looked at me like I had just made her day. usually the people I shut down or yell at don't react like that, but she was practically giddy.
"You're just like the books. Snarky, clever, and meeeean!" I wasn't fond of people gushing, but I wondered if I was supposed to be complimented by that.
"Come on, out with it or I'm going to close the door and go back to jacking it."
Somehow she was unfazed by that, maybe she did know me. "Well look, you see, in my universe, you're a fictional character, people read books starring... well... You."
"And... I'm popular?"
"Tremendously so, you're amazing! People love you! You're a best seller!"
"That's completely ridiculous. On this world, or any other world, the idea that I would end up as a beloved character is completely ridiculous. Please find whatever medication you're supposed to be taking, take twice that amount, and then check yourself back into whatever mental hospital you escaped from."
Again she looked delighted, it was like there was no mean thing I could say to this girl that would turn her away, I even briefly contemplated being nice just to try something different, but I don't think my heart could take it. I started to close the door as she shoved herself between the door and the frame.
"WAIT, Seriously! You have to listen to me. This is life and death here, super important stuff. Please please please just listen to me and then you can throw me out or call the cops or whatever."
"Look, I'm going to let you say whatever ridiculous bullshit you came here to say, if for no other reason than I don't really want any of your blood on my door." Then again, she was a cutie. A crazy cutie of course, but she had bad taste, something that worked innately in my favor.
"Ok, on my Earth, our time is slightly ahead of yours, so I've already read your latest novel, which happens about a week from now. You're very lucky I went to the midnight release for it because otherwise I wouldn't have finished it fast enough to make it here in time. I even got the author to sign a copy and she's notoriously reclusive so it was -"
"Just get to the point."
"Ok. Look, you die at the end. You die and I don't want you to."
I closed my eyes and shook my head slowly. "Who sent you, really?"
"I'm serious... You know what you're going to do already, I just want you to rethink it. You matter, you matter so much more than you know. You... You matter to me."
"And you think to tell me this now? It's good to know that I manage to kill myself though, I'd been losing sleep over whether or not I'd manage to do it in one shot, or I'd lay on the floor, writhing in pain as I lamented missing my brain at close range."
Tears began to well up in her eyes. I'd never done well with girls who cried. Or really people who cried. Or even people in general. It was weird to frame it like that, but there was no spectrum of human emotion that I was particularly comfortable with, and this girl had spent the better part of a half an hour displaying all of them. Maybe that's why I found her revolting and interesting in the same breath.
"You can't talk that way. You're my absolute favorite, like I said, everyone loves you..."
"I'm not living my life for anyone else, I'm not staying alive just so you and your perverted voyeurs can get your jollies off at my expense. And if I hadn't already decided to dispose of myself, the first thing I'd do was go find that author of yours and get some long overdue residuals. If I'm that famous I'm sure there's a movie deal out there that I'm getting fucked over."
The tears were starting to fall rather freely from her cheeks, and before I realized it, they were falling from mine too. It hurt to talk like this all the time, it hurt to be me sometimes... most of the time... probably all of the time really.
"Maybe I'm a celebrity over there, but I'm not shit here, I don't mean a god damn over here. I'm a nobody, a very unhappy, misanthropic nobody."
"So... come back with me."
"It... works like that?"
"I mean I got here didn't I? Yeah I can take you back with me. I'm not supposed to really, there are some rules attached to it, but my friends are going to be soooo jealous, I mean come on, I get to meet you AND save your life? It's like amazing. And I mean... You deserve a chance to be happy."
"I always figured I deserved a lot of things I wasn't going to get."
"Well, now It's up to you."
"Fuck."
I sighed, opened up the door the rest of the way and just left it hanging open now, I didn't care who came in anymore.
"So that means...?"
"Come in, take a seat, grab a soda or something. I'm going to pack a bag or two. And If I don't like this new dimension, I'm getting that bastard author of yours to write me a fat check and I'm catching the first whatever back to this shit hole so I can go through with my initial plans."
She nodded her head, barely able to contain her excitement. I was more excited than I wanted to be. Maybe I should just be happy for myself... for once... for ever.
Edit - I'd love some feedback, I'm trying to get better (Or at least less bad). | I'm ninety percent sure my life would make b the worst book ever. When this ass hole with his glowing boots tells me I'm his favorite v book character I simply laugh. The door than gets slammed in that crazy fucks face. I do not have the time to deal with this. Not today.
Of course when a stranger writes you a note telling you major points of your life, or what I really think about my neighbour... That's when you call the cops. Crazy stalker douche. I heard he's stuck in jail, too, they say his id said 2030. Crazy fuck really went all out. I hope they keep him there, shit like that scares me.
Tell you what, crazy future man, if bombs start dropping and I become some crazy bad ass leader, I'll break you out of prison myself. | |
[WP] Your door bell rings. It's a person from an alternate universe, who says, "I just want you to know that you are my favorite book character and I know how it ends and I want to help change it" | "What?" I asked.
The young tanned boy with long black hair nodded, "Yup. I come from Sector 521. It's in a parallel universe a few atomic seconds ahead of yours. You humans haven't discovered much about that stuff yet though," he closed his eyes and smiled.
I looked around outside: it began snowing a few days prior and hadn't let up. My parents were away for the weekend with my younger brother and sister. I had school and had to stay home. Minding your business is difficult when things like this happen. The kid had on what looked like white spandex, and wore a giant white coat. He had no shoes on, but that didn't seem to bother him too much.
I had a glass of red in my hand and decided to take a generous gulp. "Listen kid, it's cold outside. Why don't you go on home," I tried to be mean about it. He didn't seem to notice or care.
"Nope! I'm not going home until you let me help you. I know how it all ends, and I have the power to stop it!" He held up a small light blue watch. It blinked rapidly. It seemed to be as excited as he was.
I took another couple gulps, "You say you're from another universe..."
The boy nodded.
"And that I'm your favorite character in your favorite novel... that exists inside of *only* your universe..." I said trying to make sure I heard it right.
"Yup! I can't let you die! Not if I can stop it!" He bounced up a little when he said it.
I sighed and looked up at the still, white sky. With the door still open, I sat down on its ledge and motioned for the boy to sit. He looked at me quizzically and obliged.
I finished my glass of wine and set it down inside behind me. I crossed my hands and looked out into the cold, still world. The boy seemed momentarily confused and then looked out as well.
"You know what I like most about the snow?" I asked through a now-foggy pair of glasses.
"Page 287, chapter 10: It's like time itself is as frozen as the world around me," said the boy with an upbeat tone.
I grunted and smiled, "Yes."
The boy and I stared out at the falling snow for quite a while. There was no wind in the trees. It wasn't bitterly cold; only just enough for the wonderland and hot steamy breaths to ensue. I didn't say a word, and simply looked. The boy looked at me, hoping I would say something. Finally, after a few moments his face dropped and his expression became grim.
"You won't let me help you, will you?" He asked on the verge of tears.
I took off my glasses and rubbed away the fog with the cuff of my long sleeve shirt, "No. No I will not," I said after putting them back on.
"Why?" He asked. His blue eyes reflected the world around us, and in them I saw the hope of child beginning to fade away.
I would've gone back to saying nothing; that's just how I am. I decided against that thought, "Because nothing in this, or any universe, is permanent. You being here now has greatly affected the way that my future will eventually play out. I expect that when you return to your world, that it will be much the same. You must understand this, " I said to him, already saying more to him than I did to any other person in the past couple weeks.
He looked down to the ground and his hair sagged with him, "I know," he said. The watch on his wrist seemed to reflect his moods. I said nothing for a moment.
"I want you to have something," I said. The boy looked at me with an odd expression. I took off the necklace I was wearing: it was a simple thin rope that held a yin-yang symbol in the shape of a gear. I handed it to him and he gently held it in both his hands. He wordlessly put it around his neck and stood. I watched him with a growing sense of sadness. He descended the three steps and paused on my walkway. He turned and looked at me for the last time. A tear rolled down his cheek, "It doesn't have to end like this," he said.
I stared at him harshly, "Yes it does. We live in an uncertain universe. We think we have the answers to every question, yet every question we answer only produces more questions. We can hope that we we'll be ready for what is to come, yet we'll always forever be in the dark," I said.
The boy seemed to get frightened. I continued, "Just Remember: All Eventually Fades. As long as you remember that nothing is forever, you can live your life happily, free of the veil and chains. Do not fear my friend," I said. I stood up slowly. The boy watched my every move.
"The snow..." I said closing my eyes and smiling, "it takes my imagination to another universe." Just then, a blood vessel in my right temple popped. My head jittered back and I fell forward. Darkness flooded my vision, and the world ceased to be. | I'm ninety percent sure my life would make b the worst book ever. When this ass hole with his glowing boots tells me I'm his favorite v book character I simply laugh. The door than gets slammed in that crazy fucks face. I do not have the time to deal with this. Not today.
Of course when a stranger writes you a note telling you major points of your life, or what I really think about my neighbour... That's when you call the cops. Crazy stalker douche. I heard he's stuck in jail, too, they say his id said 2030. Crazy fuck really went all out. I hope they keep him there, shit like that scares me.
Tell you what, crazy future man, if bombs start dropping and I become some crazy bad ass leader, I'll break you out of prison myself. | |
[WP] Your door bell rings. It's a person from an alternate universe, who says, "I just want you to know that you are my favorite book character and I know how it ends and I want to help change it" | I stare confused. The kid gives me his best "I'm serious, but crazy psyched to be here, but totally serious" face. I think, 'whatever', how this last week has been- shit can't get any more weird. I look the kid up and down. Make sure he knows what he's in for. He seems legit. I guess. Hell, he could have been a figment of my imagination, doesn't matter much now.
A deep "Thump" shakes the world. He looks all around. I've grown use to them.
"So you want in?"
He shakes his head enthusiastically, trying his best to hold back a "HOLY FUCKING SHIT" smile.
"Alright". I hold out my fist. He gets his game face on; throws his fist out. --EPIC BRO-FIST-- I slide the sunglasses out of my pocket and onto my nose thingy.
Again, from the outside world. "THUMP"
"Let's light... wait" I step back in to my apartment. A few clicks of my mouse and I'm heading to the door. As I step out I take a second to face the kid. The Who, "We Won't Get Fooled Again" blares in the background.
"Alright, let's light this bitch up". Sunglasses on as Roger Daltery belts out "YEEEEAAAA!" Slam the door, fuck the lock, fuck the music- it's go time. We head out the fake spanish courtyard and to the parking lot.
Diagonally parked across 3 spaces is a black slightly used 68 Dodge Charger B Body with the coveted R/T logo. It's got a few dents and scrapes, but like Han says about the Falcon, it gives it character. I fling the door drivers door open and fall into the seat like I'm being cached by my guardian angel. The kid has to put his weight into the passenger's side door to get it open. He slides into the black vinyl seat. Again, he has to muscle the door closed.
"They're a bit heavier than today. The is a relic from a by gone era". I start to turn the key. "A time of steel-" ignition- gas- it roars muscle thunder "- and fire"
"So you know the game plan, right?"
"You don't have a game plan" he screams over the 426 Hemi.
I give him a crooked smile and nod. The kid's done his homework.
Clutch, first gear, gas and were screaming down the highway. It doesn't take long. Over the first slight crest in the landscape and we see it. 40 stories of iron hell, The Mechasaur. A solid iron clockwork, steam-punk tyrannosaurs tearing a path of devastation though, The Town. Ear shattering screams split the air as fire shoots from it's eyes and a locomotive size chainsaw whip lashes from its gaping maw. Explosions leap off it's iron hide. The scoured and dented juggernaut lumbers on.
I start running some game plans though my head. The road will take us right to it. Though destruction erupts all around us we have a clean shot to the base of the beast.
"Okay, kid. Here's my plan"
'Click', a pinch on my wrist. I look down. A hand cuff, what the fuck! At this moment I loose that precious barrier between me and my inner monolog.
"What the fuck" to confused to do anything else I stare at the kid with equal parts astonishment and disappointment.
He's trying to get a lot out in a short time, he talks quickly. "Sorry, I never liked how the story ended."
"HOW THE FUCK IS THIS BETTER?"
"Look, you live, alright, you defeat the Mechasur. But you take the fall for everything that's happened. The Chaos Portals, the interdimensional alien invasions, all of it. You become the fall guy for everything. But you are suppose to be the hero"
I'm scrambling to comprehend, "What, like in Ghostbusters 2"
A gentle hand rest on my shoulder and he says with the most honest pity a true humanitarian could summon, "Yes, just like in Ghostbusters 2".
I look back at the road. A 160 mile per hour Mechasaur foot begins to take up the entire windshield.
"Click"..."thump" The kid just bailed out of car. The door bounces to close in the wind but won't latch.
"Well, Fuck me". Denial sets in.
"WHAT!? No, no no! This can't be right. I can't die. I mean two days ago the ghost of Neil Armstrong helped me steal an Apache Attack Helicopter from Area 51. Together we shot down the Illuminati Zeppelin before they could activate the Omega Crystal. I just translated the Atlantis Hyper-fusion codex yesterday. I haven't even time traveled yet, not event once. I don't know if the fucking thing even works! GOD DAMNIT! And now, some punk ass kid is going to hand cuff me to the steering wheel of my fucking dream car. This is Bull-shit. This is fucking bu-" BAM!
The pinnacle of American automobile design known as the Charger B Body disintegrates as it slams into the clanging ankle of the Mechasaur. I don't know what happened next. But some how know that in the end, I die a hero. Thanks kid.
Edit: no time to proof read worth a shit
| I'm ninety percent sure my life would make b the worst book ever. When this ass hole with his glowing boots tells me I'm his favorite v book character I simply laugh. The door than gets slammed in that crazy fucks face. I do not have the time to deal with this. Not today.
Of course when a stranger writes you a note telling you major points of your life, or what I really think about my neighbour... That's when you call the cops. Crazy stalker douche. I heard he's stuck in jail, too, they say his id said 2030. Crazy fuck really went all out. I hope they keep him there, shit like that scares me.
Tell you what, crazy future man, if bombs start dropping and I become some crazy bad ass leader, I'll break you out of prison myself. | |
[WP] Your door bell rings. It's a person from an alternate universe, who says, "I just want you to know that you are my favorite book character and I know how it ends and I want to help change it" | (From the door-ringer's perspective.)
I stood in front of the dilapidated brick house, double checking the address. Even though I knew what I was looking for, it had been unnaturally difficult to find. I probably passed it numerous times without noticing. The bell didn't seem to make any sound so I slapped the solid wood door for good measure.
The door opened just enough that he could barricade the gap with his body. Every line of his face was harsh and unwelcoming as he glared at his guest. I imagined I only had a few seconds before he would slam the door shut.
"Professor Snape, I need to speak to you. I know about the horcruxes and deathly hallows and the prophesy---"
I was invited in with a forceful yank. The door slammed shut behind me and *muffliato* as well as a few other spell I couldn't catch but were probably wards were cast. When he turned back to face me his expression was somehow more hostile than before.
"Who are you," he demanded, "why are you here?"
"I'm a muggle but from an alternate world about 16 or 17 years ahead of you. There is no magic in my world but we have a book, a children's story, about your world up to around the fall of Voldemort. Sorry," I apologize when he hissed at the name. "I know how it ends and I want to help change it because you die before Vol-uh-you-know-who is defeated. You're my favorite character. I want you to live, you deserve to live and be recognized for all you did for the Wizarding World. I know this must sound hard to believe, but you're a legilimens. You know I'm not lying but I can also take Veritaserum."
He made a dismissive gesture so I continued with my retelling of the last book focusing on the battle of Hogwarts, the events leading up to his death by Nagini in the Shrieking Shack, his memories, ownership of the Elder wand, the destruction of the Horcruxes, Voldemort's demise, and how Harry survived death. Snape occasionally made a sniping comment or asked for clarification but otherwise said little through the long explanation. I tried to cram in every important and unimportant detail I could recall.
Then he grilled me on events that had already come to pass in this world to test the accuracy of my information. Everything matched up and in some cases I was able to fill in some gaps in his knowledge.
"And the Dark Lord truly dies?" He asked finally.
"Yes, for good. Never to return. Stuck in Limbo forever because he tore his soul apart." I assured. And then remembering the purpose of my trip. "You must remember not to go to the Shrieking Shack."
He looked thoughtful so I continued.
"You-know-who believes you are master of the Elder Wand. Nagini will bite you." I reminded him so he wouldn't forget. Even if he forgot everything else, he had to remember this.
"And yet this might be the best chance for the Wizarding World if what you say is true."
"I -- what?!" I yelped in shock. "No! You can't mean --- You. You will die!" I stammered, my voice rising so he might better understand.
"I had not be able to come up with a way to speak to the Potter boy and make him trust me but this he will believe. He will believe the memories. But no spell exists, as far as I know, to make memories exude from your eyes and nose and ears. Was that not explained in the book?" He asked, but when I proved speechless he continued on.
"Perhaps a potion to bind memory to bodily fluid. That could explain why these memories were silver-blue and neither liquid nor gas, opposed to the typical silver hair like whisps. A potion mixed with legilimency technique and wandless magic, it will take time to develop. And I must make the sword of Griffindor avaliable to Mr. Longbottom before I am ousted from Hogwarts, as you put it."
"So you are going to your death. Knowlingly. That's Harry Potter's job. Stupid and reckless. I didnt know you were so Griffindor, valuing mindless courage over cunning. Where's your Slytherin resourcefulness and sense of self-preservation."
"No, it would be stupid and reckless to not use your information and let this chance escape. You've provided answers to many unsolved problems and shown us a single way to permanently rid ourselves of the Dark Lord. It is a narrow path but it is guarenteed. As knowledgeable as you may be, even you cannot know what will happen if we deviate from this course. I survived so long on my determination to see the Dark Lord fall, and had enough cunning and resourcefulness to play the faithful servant while doing so. I will not see my efforts fail. I will make the necessary preparations. I thank you for your information."
"But you will not see him fall, you will be dead." I tried one last time.
"I may not survive the battle but until that day I will live and prepare my victory. And I will die knowing and that is enough."
(Well I might have gotten a bit lost at the end but too tired to fix it) | I'm ninety percent sure my life would make b the worst book ever. When this ass hole with his glowing boots tells me I'm his favorite v book character I simply laugh. The door than gets slammed in that crazy fucks face. I do not have the time to deal with this. Not today.
Of course when a stranger writes you a note telling you major points of your life, or what I really think about my neighbour... That's when you call the cops. Crazy stalker douche. I heard he's stuck in jail, too, they say his id said 2030. Crazy fuck really went all out. I hope they keep him there, shit like that scares me.
Tell you what, crazy future man, if bombs start dropping and I become some crazy bad ass leader, I'll break you out of prison myself. | |
[WP] Your door bell rings. It's a person from an alternate universe, who says, "I just want you to know that you are my favorite book character and I know how it ends and I want to help change it" | **DING DONG**
"Who the fuck and why?!" I cursed over the sounds of my coon hound baying.
"Jaaack, shut the hell up."
**DING DONG**
"Give me a fucking second, damn I need to put pants on."
Working nights made these especially annoying. Yeah 10 o'clock is fine for most people but when you go to bed at 5 am waking up before noon just makes you delerious and pissed.
I stumbled my way to the door wearing nothing but my pajama bottoms.
"Fuck them," I thought "if they didn't want to see me shirtless they shouldn't be here, they're fucking lucky I'm wearing pants."
I finally calm my dog down and get to the door. A man I have never seen is standing on the other side. I open the door.
"Yes?" I asked with a clear tone of annoyance.
"Hi, I'm sorry to bother you did....did I wake you?" The stranger asked.
"Yeah...I work nights, shit happens, can I help you?"
"Right. Yes. So this is going to sound crazy but I was reading this book. Something bad is going to happen to you. Very bad. I just need you to-"
"Not interested" I said while starting to close the door.
"No you don't understand, you're life is in da-"
CLUNK
"Fucking Mormons" I cursed on my way back to bed. | God DAMMIT, this is not the day or the time to receive visitors. Nothing has broken my way lately. Hell, I'll answer and just rip whatever poor unfortunate soul is on the other side of that door a new one.
I head down the stairs, getting more worked up with each passing step. I reach for the knob and immediately scream "What!?!?!"
The small nervous man in my doorway takes a half step back, looking startled and twitchy.
We stare at each other for an awkward moment. I'm just about to slam the door in his face when he gathers his resolve and says "you're my favorite character in this book," pointing to a hardback in his hand, which appears to be shaking ever so slightly. "I know how your story ends and I came here to change that."
The last thing I need to deal with today is the rantings of this little lunatic. I make another move to slam the door, but he moves in quickly, close to my face. I feel his breath.
"I know you got some bad news today. It sets in motion a spiral of events which ends tragically for you."
Now it was my turn to be startled. What he said was true, at least the part about the bad news.
"We need to stop this before it's too late. You aren't a bad guy...yet. "
Confusion, followed by a bright flash, a warm feeling in my chest, then the floor rushing up to meet me. I was so busy looking at this mysterious book, I never saw his other hand reach for a gun. The last thing I see is a tunnel and a white light.
The mystery man picked up the art school rejection letter and slipped into the night. | |
[WP] Your door bell rings. It's a person from an alternate universe, who says, "I just want you to know that you are my favorite book character and I know how it ends and I want to help change it" | "Come again?"
"I said, I just want you to know that you're my fav-"
"Yeah, I meant explain it, not repeat it."
She looked at me like I had just made her day. usually the people I shut down or yell at don't react like that, but she was practically giddy.
"You're just like the books. Snarky, clever, and meeeean!" I wasn't fond of people gushing, but I wondered if I was supposed to be complimented by that.
"Come on, out with it or I'm going to close the door and go back to jacking it."
Somehow she was unfazed by that, maybe she did know me. "Well look, you see, in my universe, you're a fictional character, people read books starring... well... You."
"And... I'm popular?"
"Tremendously so, you're amazing! People love you! You're a best seller!"
"That's completely ridiculous. On this world, or any other world, the idea that I would end up as a beloved character is completely ridiculous. Please find whatever medication you're supposed to be taking, take twice that amount, and then check yourself back into whatever mental hospital you escaped from."
Again she looked delighted, it was like there was no mean thing I could say to this girl that would turn her away, I even briefly contemplated being nice just to try something different, but I don't think my heart could take it. I started to close the door as she shoved herself between the door and the frame.
"WAIT, Seriously! You have to listen to me. This is life and death here, super important stuff. Please please please just listen to me and then you can throw me out or call the cops or whatever."
"Look, I'm going to let you say whatever ridiculous bullshit you came here to say, if for no other reason than I don't really want any of your blood on my door." Then again, she was a cutie. A crazy cutie of course, but she had bad taste, something that worked innately in my favor.
"Ok, on my Earth, our time is slightly ahead of yours, so I've already read your latest novel, which happens about a week from now. You're very lucky I went to the midnight release for it because otherwise I wouldn't have finished it fast enough to make it here in time. I even got the author to sign a copy and she's notoriously reclusive so it was -"
"Just get to the point."
"Ok. Look, you die at the end. You die and I don't want you to."
I closed my eyes and shook my head slowly. "Who sent you, really?"
"I'm serious... You know what you're going to do already, I just want you to rethink it. You matter, you matter so much more than you know. You... You matter to me."
"And you think to tell me this now? It's good to know that I manage to kill myself though, I'd been losing sleep over whether or not I'd manage to do it in one shot, or I'd lay on the floor, writhing in pain as I lamented missing my brain at close range."
Tears began to well up in her eyes. I'd never done well with girls who cried. Or really people who cried. Or even people in general. It was weird to frame it like that, but there was no spectrum of human emotion that I was particularly comfortable with, and this girl had spent the better part of a half an hour displaying all of them. Maybe that's why I found her revolting and interesting in the same breath.
"You can't talk that way. You're my absolute favorite, like I said, everyone loves you..."
"I'm not living my life for anyone else, I'm not staying alive just so you and your perverted voyeurs can get your jollies off at my expense. And if I hadn't already decided to dispose of myself, the first thing I'd do was go find that author of yours and get some long overdue residuals. If I'm that famous I'm sure there's a movie deal out there that I'm getting fucked over."
The tears were starting to fall rather freely from her cheeks, and before I realized it, they were falling from mine too. It hurt to talk like this all the time, it hurt to be me sometimes... most of the time... probably all of the time really.
"Maybe I'm a celebrity over there, but I'm not shit here, I don't mean a god damn over here. I'm a nobody, a very unhappy, misanthropic nobody."
"So... come back with me."
"It... works like that?"
"I mean I got here didn't I? Yeah I can take you back with me. I'm not supposed to really, there are some rules attached to it, but my friends are going to be soooo jealous, I mean come on, I get to meet you AND save your life? It's like amazing. And I mean... You deserve a chance to be happy."
"I always figured I deserved a lot of things I wasn't going to get."
"Well, now It's up to you."
"Fuck."
I sighed, opened up the door the rest of the way and just left it hanging open now, I didn't care who came in anymore.
"So that means...?"
"Come in, take a seat, grab a soda or something. I'm going to pack a bag or two. And If I don't like this new dimension, I'm getting that bastard author of yours to write me a fat check and I'm catching the first whatever back to this shit hole so I can go through with my initial plans."
She nodded her head, barely able to contain her excitement. I was more excited than I wanted to be. Maybe I should just be happy for myself... for once... for ever.
Edit - I'd love some feedback, I'm trying to get better (Or at least less bad). | God DAMMIT, this is not the day or the time to receive visitors. Nothing has broken my way lately. Hell, I'll answer and just rip whatever poor unfortunate soul is on the other side of that door a new one.
I head down the stairs, getting more worked up with each passing step. I reach for the knob and immediately scream "What!?!?!"
The small nervous man in my doorway takes a half step back, looking startled and twitchy.
We stare at each other for an awkward moment. I'm just about to slam the door in his face when he gathers his resolve and says "you're my favorite character in this book," pointing to a hardback in his hand, which appears to be shaking ever so slightly. "I know how your story ends and I came here to change that."
The last thing I need to deal with today is the rantings of this little lunatic. I make another move to slam the door, but he moves in quickly, close to my face. I feel his breath.
"I know you got some bad news today. It sets in motion a spiral of events which ends tragically for you."
Now it was my turn to be startled. What he said was true, at least the part about the bad news.
"We need to stop this before it's too late. You aren't a bad guy...yet. "
Confusion, followed by a bright flash, a warm feeling in my chest, then the floor rushing up to meet me. I was so busy looking at this mysterious book, I never saw his other hand reach for a gun. The last thing I see is a tunnel and a white light.
The mystery man picked up the art school rejection letter and slipped into the night. | |
[WP] Your door bell rings. It's a person from an alternate universe, who says, "I just want you to know that you are my favorite book character and I know how it ends and I want to help change it" | "What?" I asked.
The young tanned boy with long black hair nodded, "Yup. I come from Sector 521. It's in a parallel universe a few atomic seconds ahead of yours. You humans haven't discovered much about that stuff yet though," he closed his eyes and smiled.
I looked around outside: it began snowing a few days prior and hadn't let up. My parents were away for the weekend with my younger brother and sister. I had school and had to stay home. Minding your business is difficult when things like this happen. The kid had on what looked like white spandex, and wore a giant white coat. He had no shoes on, but that didn't seem to bother him too much.
I had a glass of red in my hand and decided to take a generous gulp. "Listen kid, it's cold outside. Why don't you go on home," I tried to be mean about it. He didn't seem to notice or care.
"Nope! I'm not going home until you let me help you. I know how it all ends, and I have the power to stop it!" He held up a small light blue watch. It blinked rapidly. It seemed to be as excited as he was.
I took another couple gulps, "You say you're from another universe..."
The boy nodded.
"And that I'm your favorite character in your favorite novel... that exists inside of *only* your universe..." I said trying to make sure I heard it right.
"Yup! I can't let you die! Not if I can stop it!" He bounced up a little when he said it.
I sighed and looked up at the still, white sky. With the door still open, I sat down on its ledge and motioned for the boy to sit. He looked at me quizzically and obliged.
I finished my glass of wine and set it down inside behind me. I crossed my hands and looked out into the cold, still world. The boy seemed momentarily confused and then looked out as well.
"You know what I like most about the snow?" I asked through a now-foggy pair of glasses.
"Page 287, chapter 10: It's like time itself is as frozen as the world around me," said the boy with an upbeat tone.
I grunted and smiled, "Yes."
The boy and I stared out at the falling snow for quite a while. There was no wind in the trees. It wasn't bitterly cold; only just enough for the wonderland and hot steamy breaths to ensue. I didn't say a word, and simply looked. The boy looked at me, hoping I would say something. Finally, after a few moments his face dropped and his expression became grim.
"You won't let me help you, will you?" He asked on the verge of tears.
I took off my glasses and rubbed away the fog with the cuff of my long sleeve shirt, "No. No I will not," I said after putting them back on.
"Why?" He asked. His blue eyes reflected the world around us, and in them I saw the hope of child beginning to fade away.
I would've gone back to saying nothing; that's just how I am. I decided against that thought, "Because nothing in this, or any universe, is permanent. You being here now has greatly affected the way that my future will eventually play out. I expect that when you return to your world, that it will be much the same. You must understand this, " I said to him, already saying more to him than I did to any other person in the past couple weeks.
He looked down to the ground and his hair sagged with him, "I know," he said. The watch on his wrist seemed to reflect his moods. I said nothing for a moment.
"I want you to have something," I said. The boy looked at me with an odd expression. I took off the necklace I was wearing: it was a simple thin rope that held a yin-yang symbol in the shape of a gear. I handed it to him and he gently held it in both his hands. He wordlessly put it around his neck and stood. I watched him with a growing sense of sadness. He descended the three steps and paused on my walkway. He turned and looked at me for the last time. A tear rolled down his cheek, "It doesn't have to end like this," he said.
I stared at him harshly, "Yes it does. We live in an uncertain universe. We think we have the answers to every question, yet every question we answer only produces more questions. We can hope that we we'll be ready for what is to come, yet we'll always forever be in the dark," I said.
The boy seemed to get frightened. I continued, "Just Remember: All Eventually Fades. As long as you remember that nothing is forever, you can live your life happily, free of the veil and chains. Do not fear my friend," I said. I stood up slowly. The boy watched my every move.
"The snow..." I said closing my eyes and smiling, "it takes my imagination to another universe." Just then, a blood vessel in my right temple popped. My head jittered back and I fell forward. Darkness flooded my vision, and the world ceased to be. | God DAMMIT, this is not the day or the time to receive visitors. Nothing has broken my way lately. Hell, I'll answer and just rip whatever poor unfortunate soul is on the other side of that door a new one.
I head down the stairs, getting more worked up with each passing step. I reach for the knob and immediately scream "What!?!?!"
The small nervous man in my doorway takes a half step back, looking startled and twitchy.
We stare at each other for an awkward moment. I'm just about to slam the door in his face when he gathers his resolve and says "you're my favorite character in this book," pointing to a hardback in his hand, which appears to be shaking ever so slightly. "I know how your story ends and I came here to change that."
The last thing I need to deal with today is the rantings of this little lunatic. I make another move to slam the door, but he moves in quickly, close to my face. I feel his breath.
"I know you got some bad news today. It sets in motion a spiral of events which ends tragically for you."
Now it was my turn to be startled. What he said was true, at least the part about the bad news.
"We need to stop this before it's too late. You aren't a bad guy...yet. "
Confusion, followed by a bright flash, a warm feeling in my chest, then the floor rushing up to meet me. I was so busy looking at this mysterious book, I never saw his other hand reach for a gun. The last thing I see is a tunnel and a white light.
The mystery man picked up the art school rejection letter and slipped into the night. | |
[WP] Your door bell rings. It's a person from an alternate universe, who says, "I just want you to know that you are my favorite book character and I know how it ends and I want to help change it" | (From the door-ringer's perspective.)
I stood in front of the dilapidated brick house, double checking the address. Even though I knew what I was looking for, it had been unnaturally difficult to find. I probably passed it numerous times without noticing. The bell didn't seem to make any sound so I slapped the solid wood door for good measure.
The door opened just enough that he could barricade the gap with his body. Every line of his face was harsh and unwelcoming as he glared at his guest. I imagined I only had a few seconds before he would slam the door shut.
"Professor Snape, I need to speak to you. I know about the horcruxes and deathly hallows and the prophesy---"
I was invited in with a forceful yank. The door slammed shut behind me and *muffliato* as well as a few other spell I couldn't catch but were probably wards were cast. When he turned back to face me his expression was somehow more hostile than before.
"Who are you," he demanded, "why are you here?"
"I'm a muggle but from an alternate world about 16 or 17 years ahead of you. There is no magic in my world but we have a book, a children's story, about your world up to around the fall of Voldemort. Sorry," I apologize when he hissed at the name. "I know how it ends and I want to help change it because you die before Vol-uh-you-know-who is defeated. You're my favorite character. I want you to live, you deserve to live and be recognized for all you did for the Wizarding World. I know this must sound hard to believe, but you're a legilimens. You know I'm not lying but I can also take Veritaserum."
He made a dismissive gesture so I continued with my retelling of the last book focusing on the battle of Hogwarts, the events leading up to his death by Nagini in the Shrieking Shack, his memories, ownership of the Elder wand, the destruction of the Horcruxes, Voldemort's demise, and how Harry survived death. Snape occasionally made a sniping comment or asked for clarification but otherwise said little through the long explanation. I tried to cram in every important and unimportant detail I could recall.
Then he grilled me on events that had already come to pass in this world to test the accuracy of my information. Everything matched up and in some cases I was able to fill in some gaps in his knowledge.
"And the Dark Lord truly dies?" He asked finally.
"Yes, for good. Never to return. Stuck in Limbo forever because he tore his soul apart." I assured. And then remembering the purpose of my trip. "You must remember not to go to the Shrieking Shack."
He looked thoughtful so I continued.
"You-know-who believes you are master of the Elder Wand. Nagini will bite you." I reminded him so he wouldn't forget. Even if he forgot everything else, he had to remember this.
"And yet this might be the best chance for the Wizarding World if what you say is true."
"I -- what?!" I yelped in shock. "No! You can't mean --- You. You will die!" I stammered, my voice rising so he might better understand.
"I had not be able to come up with a way to speak to the Potter boy and make him trust me but this he will believe. He will believe the memories. But no spell exists, as far as I know, to make memories exude from your eyes and nose and ears. Was that not explained in the book?" He asked, but when I proved speechless he continued on.
"Perhaps a potion to bind memory to bodily fluid. That could explain why these memories were silver-blue and neither liquid nor gas, opposed to the typical silver hair like whisps. A potion mixed with legilimency technique and wandless magic, it will take time to develop. And I must make the sword of Griffindor avaliable to Mr. Longbottom before I am ousted from Hogwarts, as you put it."
"So you are going to your death. Knowlingly. That's Harry Potter's job. Stupid and reckless. I didnt know you were so Griffindor, valuing mindless courage over cunning. Where's your Slytherin resourcefulness and sense of self-preservation."
"No, it would be stupid and reckless to not use your information and let this chance escape. You've provided answers to many unsolved problems and shown us a single way to permanently rid ourselves of the Dark Lord. It is a narrow path but it is guarenteed. As knowledgeable as you may be, even you cannot know what will happen if we deviate from this course. I survived so long on my determination to see the Dark Lord fall, and had enough cunning and resourcefulness to play the faithful servant while doing so. I will not see my efforts fail. I will make the necessary preparations. I thank you for your information."
"But you will not see him fall, you will be dead." I tried one last time.
"I may not survive the battle but until that day I will live and prepare my victory. And I will die knowing and that is enough."
(Well I might have gotten a bit lost at the end but too tired to fix it) | God DAMMIT, this is not the day or the time to receive visitors. Nothing has broken my way lately. Hell, I'll answer and just rip whatever poor unfortunate soul is on the other side of that door a new one.
I head down the stairs, getting more worked up with each passing step. I reach for the knob and immediately scream "What!?!?!"
The small nervous man in my doorway takes a half step back, looking startled and twitchy.
We stare at each other for an awkward moment. I'm just about to slam the door in his face when he gathers his resolve and says "you're my favorite character in this book," pointing to a hardback in his hand, which appears to be shaking ever so slightly. "I know how your story ends and I came here to change that."
The last thing I need to deal with today is the rantings of this little lunatic. I make another move to slam the door, but he moves in quickly, close to my face. I feel his breath.
"I know you got some bad news today. It sets in motion a spiral of events which ends tragically for you."
Now it was my turn to be startled. What he said was true, at least the part about the bad news.
"We need to stop this before it's too late. You aren't a bad guy...yet. "
Confusion, followed by a bright flash, a warm feeling in my chest, then the floor rushing up to meet me. I was so busy looking at this mysterious book, I never saw his other hand reach for a gun. The last thing I see is a tunnel and a white light.
The mystery man picked up the art school rejection letter and slipped into the night. | |
[WP] Your door bell rings. It's a person from an alternate universe, who says, "I just want you to know that you are my favorite book character and I know how it ends and I want to help change it" | **DING DONG**
"Who the fuck and why?!" I cursed over the sounds of my coon hound baying.
"Jaaack, shut the hell up."
**DING DONG**
"Give me a fucking second, damn I need to put pants on."
Working nights made these especially annoying. Yeah 10 o'clock is fine for most people but when you go to bed at 5 am waking up before noon just makes you delerious and pissed.
I stumbled my way to the door wearing nothing but my pajama bottoms.
"Fuck them," I thought "if they didn't want to see me shirtless they shouldn't be here, they're fucking lucky I'm wearing pants."
I finally calm my dog down and get to the door. A man I have never seen is standing on the other side. I open the door.
"Yes?" I asked with a clear tone of annoyance.
"Hi, I'm sorry to bother you did....did I wake you?" The stranger asked.
"Yeah...I work nights, shit happens, can I help you?"
"Right. Yes. So this is going to sound crazy but I was reading this book. Something bad is going to happen to you. Very bad. I just need you to-"
"Not interested" I said while starting to close the door.
"No you don't understand, you're life is in da-"
CLUNK
"Fucking Mormons" I cursed on my way back to bed. | "I just want you to know that you are my favorite book character and I know how it ends and I want to help change it"
and Thats how it all began, a simple sentence, and now I'm sitting here in an abandoned denny's at 3am in the morning. Sometimes life throws you a curve ball, sometimes life grabs the ashtray from your car and decides to shake it all over your head. All because apparently your quota for shitty things hasn't been filled for the month. Yes, this was definitely different than the ending he had described for me, but where did it put me now. Just to assess: Homeless, a warrant out for my arrest, responsible for several multi-car pileup's on the freeway, amongst other unmentionable things, namely narrowly avoiding a full out land war with canada and likely burning down a local bar. Now if only I knew where my toast was. | |
[WP] Your door bell rings. It's a person from an alternate universe, who says, "I just want you to know that you are my favorite book character and I know how it ends and I want to help change it" | "Come again?"
"I said, I just want you to know that you're my fav-"
"Yeah, I meant explain it, not repeat it."
She looked at me like I had just made her day. usually the people I shut down or yell at don't react like that, but she was practically giddy.
"You're just like the books. Snarky, clever, and meeeean!" I wasn't fond of people gushing, but I wondered if I was supposed to be complimented by that.
"Come on, out with it or I'm going to close the door and go back to jacking it."
Somehow she was unfazed by that, maybe she did know me. "Well look, you see, in my universe, you're a fictional character, people read books starring... well... You."
"And... I'm popular?"
"Tremendously so, you're amazing! People love you! You're a best seller!"
"That's completely ridiculous. On this world, or any other world, the idea that I would end up as a beloved character is completely ridiculous. Please find whatever medication you're supposed to be taking, take twice that amount, and then check yourself back into whatever mental hospital you escaped from."
Again she looked delighted, it was like there was no mean thing I could say to this girl that would turn her away, I even briefly contemplated being nice just to try something different, but I don't think my heart could take it. I started to close the door as she shoved herself between the door and the frame.
"WAIT, Seriously! You have to listen to me. This is life and death here, super important stuff. Please please please just listen to me and then you can throw me out or call the cops or whatever."
"Look, I'm going to let you say whatever ridiculous bullshit you came here to say, if for no other reason than I don't really want any of your blood on my door." Then again, she was a cutie. A crazy cutie of course, but she had bad taste, something that worked innately in my favor.
"Ok, on my Earth, our time is slightly ahead of yours, so I've already read your latest novel, which happens about a week from now. You're very lucky I went to the midnight release for it because otherwise I wouldn't have finished it fast enough to make it here in time. I even got the author to sign a copy and she's notoriously reclusive so it was -"
"Just get to the point."
"Ok. Look, you die at the end. You die and I don't want you to."
I closed my eyes and shook my head slowly. "Who sent you, really?"
"I'm serious... You know what you're going to do already, I just want you to rethink it. You matter, you matter so much more than you know. You... You matter to me."
"And you think to tell me this now? It's good to know that I manage to kill myself though, I'd been losing sleep over whether or not I'd manage to do it in one shot, or I'd lay on the floor, writhing in pain as I lamented missing my brain at close range."
Tears began to well up in her eyes. I'd never done well with girls who cried. Or really people who cried. Or even people in general. It was weird to frame it like that, but there was no spectrum of human emotion that I was particularly comfortable with, and this girl had spent the better part of a half an hour displaying all of them. Maybe that's why I found her revolting and interesting in the same breath.
"You can't talk that way. You're my absolute favorite, like I said, everyone loves you..."
"I'm not living my life for anyone else, I'm not staying alive just so you and your perverted voyeurs can get your jollies off at my expense. And if I hadn't already decided to dispose of myself, the first thing I'd do was go find that author of yours and get some long overdue residuals. If I'm that famous I'm sure there's a movie deal out there that I'm getting fucked over."
The tears were starting to fall rather freely from her cheeks, and before I realized it, they were falling from mine too. It hurt to talk like this all the time, it hurt to be me sometimes... most of the time... probably all of the time really.
"Maybe I'm a celebrity over there, but I'm not shit here, I don't mean a god damn over here. I'm a nobody, a very unhappy, misanthropic nobody."
"So... come back with me."
"It... works like that?"
"I mean I got here didn't I? Yeah I can take you back with me. I'm not supposed to really, there are some rules attached to it, but my friends are going to be soooo jealous, I mean come on, I get to meet you AND save your life? It's like amazing. And I mean... You deserve a chance to be happy."
"I always figured I deserved a lot of things I wasn't going to get."
"Well, now It's up to you."
"Fuck."
I sighed, opened up the door the rest of the way and just left it hanging open now, I didn't care who came in anymore.
"So that means...?"
"Come in, take a seat, grab a soda or something. I'm going to pack a bag or two. And If I don't like this new dimension, I'm getting that bastard author of yours to write me a fat check and I'm catching the first whatever back to this shit hole so I can go through with my initial plans."
She nodded her head, barely able to contain her excitement. I was more excited than I wanted to be. Maybe I should just be happy for myself... for once... for ever.
Edit - I'd love some feedback, I'm trying to get better (Or at least less bad). | "I just want you to know that you are my favorite book character and I know how it ends and I want to help change it"
and Thats how it all began, a simple sentence, and now I'm sitting here in an abandoned denny's at 3am in the morning. Sometimes life throws you a curve ball, sometimes life grabs the ashtray from your car and decides to shake it all over your head. All because apparently your quota for shitty things hasn't been filled for the month. Yes, this was definitely different than the ending he had described for me, but where did it put me now. Just to assess: Homeless, a warrant out for my arrest, responsible for several multi-car pileup's on the freeway, amongst other unmentionable things, namely narrowly avoiding a full out land war with canada and likely burning down a local bar. Now if only I knew where my toast was. | |
[WP] Your door bell rings. It's a person from an alternate universe, who says, "I just want you to know that you are my favorite book character and I know how it ends and I want to help change it" | "What?" I asked.
The young tanned boy with long black hair nodded, "Yup. I come from Sector 521. It's in a parallel universe a few atomic seconds ahead of yours. You humans haven't discovered much about that stuff yet though," he closed his eyes and smiled.
I looked around outside: it began snowing a few days prior and hadn't let up. My parents were away for the weekend with my younger brother and sister. I had school and had to stay home. Minding your business is difficult when things like this happen. The kid had on what looked like white spandex, and wore a giant white coat. He had no shoes on, but that didn't seem to bother him too much.
I had a glass of red in my hand and decided to take a generous gulp. "Listen kid, it's cold outside. Why don't you go on home," I tried to be mean about it. He didn't seem to notice or care.
"Nope! I'm not going home until you let me help you. I know how it all ends, and I have the power to stop it!" He held up a small light blue watch. It blinked rapidly. It seemed to be as excited as he was.
I took another couple gulps, "You say you're from another universe..."
The boy nodded.
"And that I'm your favorite character in your favorite novel... that exists inside of *only* your universe..." I said trying to make sure I heard it right.
"Yup! I can't let you die! Not if I can stop it!" He bounced up a little when he said it.
I sighed and looked up at the still, white sky. With the door still open, I sat down on its ledge and motioned for the boy to sit. He looked at me quizzically and obliged.
I finished my glass of wine and set it down inside behind me. I crossed my hands and looked out into the cold, still world. The boy seemed momentarily confused and then looked out as well.
"You know what I like most about the snow?" I asked through a now-foggy pair of glasses.
"Page 287, chapter 10: It's like time itself is as frozen as the world around me," said the boy with an upbeat tone.
I grunted and smiled, "Yes."
The boy and I stared out at the falling snow for quite a while. There was no wind in the trees. It wasn't bitterly cold; only just enough for the wonderland and hot steamy breaths to ensue. I didn't say a word, and simply looked. The boy looked at me, hoping I would say something. Finally, after a few moments his face dropped and his expression became grim.
"You won't let me help you, will you?" He asked on the verge of tears.
I took off my glasses and rubbed away the fog with the cuff of my long sleeve shirt, "No. No I will not," I said after putting them back on.
"Why?" He asked. His blue eyes reflected the world around us, and in them I saw the hope of child beginning to fade away.
I would've gone back to saying nothing; that's just how I am. I decided against that thought, "Because nothing in this, or any universe, is permanent. You being here now has greatly affected the way that my future will eventually play out. I expect that when you return to your world, that it will be much the same. You must understand this, " I said to him, already saying more to him than I did to any other person in the past couple weeks.
He looked down to the ground and his hair sagged with him, "I know," he said. The watch on his wrist seemed to reflect his moods. I said nothing for a moment.
"I want you to have something," I said. The boy looked at me with an odd expression. I took off the necklace I was wearing: it was a simple thin rope that held a yin-yang symbol in the shape of a gear. I handed it to him and he gently held it in both his hands. He wordlessly put it around his neck and stood. I watched him with a growing sense of sadness. He descended the three steps and paused on my walkway. He turned and looked at me for the last time. A tear rolled down his cheek, "It doesn't have to end like this," he said.
I stared at him harshly, "Yes it does. We live in an uncertain universe. We think we have the answers to every question, yet every question we answer only produces more questions. We can hope that we we'll be ready for what is to come, yet we'll always forever be in the dark," I said.
The boy seemed to get frightened. I continued, "Just Remember: All Eventually Fades. As long as you remember that nothing is forever, you can live your life happily, free of the veil and chains. Do not fear my friend," I said. I stood up slowly. The boy watched my every move.
"The snow..." I said closing my eyes and smiling, "it takes my imagination to another universe." Just then, a blood vessel in my right temple popped. My head jittered back and I fell forward. Darkness flooded my vision, and the world ceased to be. | "I just want you to know that you are my favorite book character and I know how it ends and I want to help change it"
and Thats how it all began, a simple sentence, and now I'm sitting here in an abandoned denny's at 3am in the morning. Sometimes life throws you a curve ball, sometimes life grabs the ashtray from your car and decides to shake it all over your head. All because apparently your quota for shitty things hasn't been filled for the month. Yes, this was definitely different than the ending he had described for me, but where did it put me now. Just to assess: Homeless, a warrant out for my arrest, responsible for several multi-car pileup's on the freeway, amongst other unmentionable things, namely narrowly avoiding a full out land war with canada and likely burning down a local bar. Now if only I knew where my toast was. | |
[WP] Your door bell rings. It's a person from an alternate universe, who says, "I just want you to know that you are my favorite book character and I know how it ends and I want to help change it" | (From the door-ringer's perspective.)
I stood in front of the dilapidated brick house, double checking the address. Even though I knew what I was looking for, it had been unnaturally difficult to find. I probably passed it numerous times without noticing. The bell didn't seem to make any sound so I slapped the solid wood door for good measure.
The door opened just enough that he could barricade the gap with his body. Every line of his face was harsh and unwelcoming as he glared at his guest. I imagined I only had a few seconds before he would slam the door shut.
"Professor Snape, I need to speak to you. I know about the horcruxes and deathly hallows and the prophesy---"
I was invited in with a forceful yank. The door slammed shut behind me and *muffliato* as well as a few other spell I couldn't catch but were probably wards were cast. When he turned back to face me his expression was somehow more hostile than before.
"Who are you," he demanded, "why are you here?"
"I'm a muggle but from an alternate world about 16 or 17 years ahead of you. There is no magic in my world but we have a book, a children's story, about your world up to around the fall of Voldemort. Sorry," I apologize when he hissed at the name. "I know how it ends and I want to help change it because you die before Vol-uh-you-know-who is defeated. You're my favorite character. I want you to live, you deserve to live and be recognized for all you did for the Wizarding World. I know this must sound hard to believe, but you're a legilimens. You know I'm not lying but I can also take Veritaserum."
He made a dismissive gesture so I continued with my retelling of the last book focusing on the battle of Hogwarts, the events leading up to his death by Nagini in the Shrieking Shack, his memories, ownership of the Elder wand, the destruction of the Horcruxes, Voldemort's demise, and how Harry survived death. Snape occasionally made a sniping comment or asked for clarification but otherwise said little through the long explanation. I tried to cram in every important and unimportant detail I could recall.
Then he grilled me on events that had already come to pass in this world to test the accuracy of my information. Everything matched up and in some cases I was able to fill in some gaps in his knowledge.
"And the Dark Lord truly dies?" He asked finally.
"Yes, for good. Never to return. Stuck in Limbo forever because he tore his soul apart." I assured. And then remembering the purpose of my trip. "You must remember not to go to the Shrieking Shack."
He looked thoughtful so I continued.
"You-know-who believes you are master of the Elder Wand. Nagini will bite you." I reminded him so he wouldn't forget. Even if he forgot everything else, he had to remember this.
"And yet this might be the best chance for the Wizarding World if what you say is true."
"I -- what?!" I yelped in shock. "No! You can't mean --- You. You will die!" I stammered, my voice rising so he might better understand.
"I had not be able to come up with a way to speak to the Potter boy and make him trust me but this he will believe. He will believe the memories. But no spell exists, as far as I know, to make memories exude from your eyes and nose and ears. Was that not explained in the book?" He asked, but when I proved speechless he continued on.
"Perhaps a potion to bind memory to bodily fluid. That could explain why these memories were silver-blue and neither liquid nor gas, opposed to the typical silver hair like whisps. A potion mixed with legilimency technique and wandless magic, it will take time to develop. And I must make the sword of Griffindor avaliable to Mr. Longbottom before I am ousted from Hogwarts, as you put it."
"So you are going to your death. Knowlingly. That's Harry Potter's job. Stupid and reckless. I didnt know you were so Griffindor, valuing mindless courage over cunning. Where's your Slytherin resourcefulness and sense of self-preservation."
"No, it would be stupid and reckless to not use your information and let this chance escape. You've provided answers to many unsolved problems and shown us a single way to permanently rid ourselves of the Dark Lord. It is a narrow path but it is guarenteed. As knowledgeable as you may be, even you cannot know what will happen if we deviate from this course. I survived so long on my determination to see the Dark Lord fall, and had enough cunning and resourcefulness to play the faithful servant while doing so. I will not see my efforts fail. I will make the necessary preparations. I thank you for your information."
"But you will not see him fall, you will be dead." I tried one last time.
"I may not survive the battle but until that day I will live and prepare my victory. And I will die knowing and that is enough."
(Well I might have gotten a bit lost at the end but too tired to fix it) | "I just want you to know that you are my favorite book character and I know how it ends and I want to help change it"
and Thats how it all began, a simple sentence, and now I'm sitting here in an abandoned denny's at 3am in the morning. Sometimes life throws you a curve ball, sometimes life grabs the ashtray from your car and decides to shake it all over your head. All because apparently your quota for shitty things hasn't been filled for the month. Yes, this was definitely different than the ending he had described for me, but where did it put me now. Just to assess: Homeless, a warrant out for my arrest, responsible for several multi-car pileup's on the freeway, amongst other unmentionable things, namely narrowly avoiding a full out land war with canada and likely burning down a local bar. Now if only I knew where my toast was. | |
[WP] Your door bell rings. It's a person from an alternate universe, who says, "I just want you to know that you are my favorite book character and I know how it ends and I want to help change it" | **DING DONG**
"Who the fuck and why?!" I cursed over the sounds of my coon hound baying.
"Jaaack, shut the hell up."
**DING DONG**
"Give me a fucking second, damn I need to put pants on."
Working nights made these especially annoying. Yeah 10 o'clock is fine for most people but when you go to bed at 5 am waking up before noon just makes you delerious and pissed.
I stumbled my way to the door wearing nothing but my pajama bottoms.
"Fuck them," I thought "if they didn't want to see me shirtless they shouldn't be here, they're fucking lucky I'm wearing pants."
I finally calm my dog down and get to the door. A man I have never seen is standing on the other side. I open the door.
"Yes?" I asked with a clear tone of annoyance.
"Hi, I'm sorry to bother you did....did I wake you?" The stranger asked.
"Yeah...I work nights, shit happens, can I help you?"
"Right. Yes. So this is going to sound crazy but I was reading this book. Something bad is going to happen to you. Very bad. I just need you to-"
"Not interested" I said while starting to close the door.
"No you don't understand, you're life is in da-"
CLUNK
"Fucking Mormons" I cursed on my way back to bed. | “What a day” I think to myself. “Not only did I have to wake up for the early shift, but it turns out I wasn't even supposed to be there today. The least that jackass could have done was tell me when I got there, not wait until noon.” I walk around the corner to see a man standing in the middle of the path. I take a seldom used bike trail home, and it is odd to see someone else using it, particularly since he is just standing there. Suddenly he looks up at me, and I see his eyes widen, a look of astonishment on his face.
“Are you Alexander Stone?” he asks with a slightly shaky voice.
“Umm… that would greatly depend on who is asking.” I reply, concerned how this random stranger would know my name.
“Listen, we don't have time for this. I haven't worked out all of the calculations. We only have…“ he pauses to look at one of the three watches on his wrist. “… 1 minute, 18 seconds left. I need you to believe me. You don't know me, but I know you! You are Alexander Stone, age 23. Right now you are walking home from work. You got off early since your boss accidentally scheduled Tom as well as yourself today. Shortly after you get home, the UPS guy will show up with that jacket you ordered online… actually, if we calculate the delay, he will probably beat you there…”
The man once again looks at his watches. “I have to get back. I will see you again soon.” With that, he runs into the wooded area beside the trail.
I think about following him, but quickly decide that only a fool would follow a crazy man into the woods, especially after that spectacle. He knows my name and my age. Has he been following me? Admittedly, in the information age, it isn't that difficult to find information on someone, so I continue home, watching my back the entire way.
As I walk up the flight of stairs to the third floor, I run into a man wearing a UPS delivery uniform. I can't help but think that this is too weird. I continue up the stairs, and see a package outside my door. I grab it, open the door, and walk inside. It is the leather jacket I ordered off of Amazon for the 50’s party I am going to in a few weeks. Great! Not only did this guy research me, he must have hacked my amazon account and found the expected arrival date. Looks like I am changing that password. I should probably be safe and check my security settings on my social media sites too.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
“Maybe I overreacted.” I think to myself as I walk to work. “Almost a whole week has passed, and I haven't seen or heard from that creepy stalker guy.” That guy had caused me so much stress. I changed all of my passwords to every website I use, and I even got a new set of locks for my door, just in case.
Just as it was starting to look as if all of my caution was unwarranted, I saw him standing in the middle of the path again. I turned to run the other direction, but he screamed to me.
“Stop, please! I know this must seem crazy, but you have to listen to me. I am close to perfecting the Particle Acclimater, but until then I only have short bursts of time to convince you. It was no accident that you have been getting released from work early the past few days.”
How could he have known that I was sent home early again on Thursday and then Monday? He must have been following me this whole time.
“You are going to get fired.” He continued. “At exactly 3:35 this afternoon, Frank will call you into his office and let you know. After you leave, you will see the old man that lives in 1C of your building walking into the diner a block down from the store, and he will invite you to join him for a cup of coffee.” He looks down at his watch again, this time he was only wearing two. “My time is almost up once again, but by the next time I transfer back here, I should be stable enough to stay long enough to explain. Hopefully everything I have told you will make you believe me, because this is only the beginning of the revelations I have for you.” With that, he once again runs into the woods.
I don’t take the time to wonder what he is doing, I just bolt towards work. I will get through today, and tonight I will file a police report against this nutter.
--------------
I get to work a few minutes late, but Frank doesn't seem to notice. All for the better, I suppose. There are too many customers that need my assistance for him to do anything anyway. I can’t believe that that psycho would think they would fire me. There isn't a single employee at the store that has half of the knowledge about technology that I do, and at an electronics store, there isn't much else that matters. Sure, I may not be the most diligent employee, but if I had a quarter for every customer that told me they would definitely talk to management about how great I was, I would be able to quit. Hell, if even half of them actually talked to Frank, I would probably be promoted by now. So, I continue my day as normal. Admittedly, as the day wears on, I am getting a little nervous. It is only natural for things to feel a little eerie after what has happened. Things escalate when Frank calls me into his office. I can't bring myself to look at the clock.
“Listen Alex,” Franks starts, looking solemn, “there is no easy way to say this. Corporate sent us our projective budget goals for the next quarter, and we are going to have to let you go.”
“Frank, this is bullshit!” I cry. “How the hell do you plan to run this place without me? There is no way Tom can explain the difference between an N and AC router. Is Heather going to describe the difference between DDR3 and DDR5 Ram to a customer? You guys need me!”
“Alex, I'm sorry. I’ve tried to convince the higher ups to reconsider, but their minds are made up. You were the most recent hire, and, quite frankly, have been late more times than any other salesperson. The decision is made. You have until 4 to clean out your locker. I really am sorry, Alex”
As much as I can't bear to check, I look at my watch; 3:35. I can't believe this. Could that crazy dude really have some clairvoyant or psychic powers or something? No way, he must have hacked into Frank’s email and seen that I was getting fired. Frank was probably told when to call me in as well.
I clean out my locker and drop off my name badge and accessories at H.R. with a few minutes to spare. As I am walking out of the building, I see Mr. Wilkinson from 1C walking across the street. I can't help but think that if this old man invites me to coffee, I am going to flip shit.
Sure enough, as Mr. Wilkinson walks up, he says, “Are you getting out early again? Well, if you have spare time, I am about to grab a cup of coffee, would you like to join me?”
I think it is about time I gave that guy my attention.
-----
I spend the next day entirely in turmoil. I put in over a dozen applications online. All the while, I had this cloud over my head that some random stranger held the keys to my life in his hands, and could see everything ahead of me. As I reflected on this, I heard the doorbell ring. I opened it, and he was standing there.
“I just want you to know that you are my favorite book character, and I know how it ends, and I want to help change it.”
--------------
-------------- | |
[WP] Your door bell rings. It's a person from an alternate universe, who says, "I just want you to know that you are my favorite book character and I know how it ends and I want to help change it" | "What?" I asked.
The young tanned boy with long black hair nodded, "Yup. I come from Sector 521. It's in a parallel universe a few atomic seconds ahead of yours. You humans haven't discovered much about that stuff yet though," he closed his eyes and smiled.
I looked around outside: it began snowing a few days prior and hadn't let up. My parents were away for the weekend with my younger brother and sister. I had school and had to stay home. Minding your business is difficult when things like this happen. The kid had on what looked like white spandex, and wore a giant white coat. He had no shoes on, but that didn't seem to bother him too much.
I had a glass of red in my hand and decided to take a generous gulp. "Listen kid, it's cold outside. Why don't you go on home," I tried to be mean about it. He didn't seem to notice or care.
"Nope! I'm not going home until you let me help you. I know how it all ends, and I have the power to stop it!" He held up a small light blue watch. It blinked rapidly. It seemed to be as excited as he was.
I took another couple gulps, "You say you're from another universe..."
The boy nodded.
"And that I'm your favorite character in your favorite novel... that exists inside of *only* your universe..." I said trying to make sure I heard it right.
"Yup! I can't let you die! Not if I can stop it!" He bounced up a little when he said it.
I sighed and looked up at the still, white sky. With the door still open, I sat down on its ledge and motioned for the boy to sit. He looked at me quizzically and obliged.
I finished my glass of wine and set it down inside behind me. I crossed my hands and looked out into the cold, still world. The boy seemed momentarily confused and then looked out as well.
"You know what I like most about the snow?" I asked through a now-foggy pair of glasses.
"Page 287, chapter 10: It's like time itself is as frozen as the world around me," said the boy with an upbeat tone.
I grunted and smiled, "Yes."
The boy and I stared out at the falling snow for quite a while. There was no wind in the trees. It wasn't bitterly cold; only just enough for the wonderland and hot steamy breaths to ensue. I didn't say a word, and simply looked. The boy looked at me, hoping I would say something. Finally, after a few moments his face dropped and his expression became grim.
"You won't let me help you, will you?" He asked on the verge of tears.
I took off my glasses and rubbed away the fog with the cuff of my long sleeve shirt, "No. No I will not," I said after putting them back on.
"Why?" He asked. His blue eyes reflected the world around us, and in them I saw the hope of child beginning to fade away.
I would've gone back to saying nothing; that's just how I am. I decided against that thought, "Because nothing in this, or any universe, is permanent. You being here now has greatly affected the way that my future will eventually play out. I expect that when you return to your world, that it will be much the same. You must understand this, " I said to him, already saying more to him than I did to any other person in the past couple weeks.
He looked down to the ground and his hair sagged with him, "I know," he said. The watch on his wrist seemed to reflect his moods. I said nothing for a moment.
"I want you to have something," I said. The boy looked at me with an odd expression. I took off the necklace I was wearing: it was a simple thin rope that held a yin-yang symbol in the shape of a gear. I handed it to him and he gently held it in both his hands. He wordlessly put it around his neck and stood. I watched him with a growing sense of sadness. He descended the three steps and paused on my walkway. He turned and looked at me for the last time. A tear rolled down his cheek, "It doesn't have to end like this," he said.
I stared at him harshly, "Yes it does. We live in an uncertain universe. We think we have the answers to every question, yet every question we answer only produces more questions. We can hope that we we'll be ready for what is to come, yet we'll always forever be in the dark," I said.
The boy seemed to get frightened. I continued, "Just Remember: All Eventually Fades. As long as you remember that nothing is forever, you can live your life happily, free of the veil and chains. Do not fear my friend," I said. I stood up slowly. The boy watched my every move.
"The snow..." I said closing my eyes and smiling, "it takes my imagination to another universe." Just then, a blood vessel in my right temple popped. My head jittered back and I fell forward. Darkness flooded my vision, and the world ceased to be. | “What a day” I think to myself. “Not only did I have to wake up for the early shift, but it turns out I wasn't even supposed to be there today. The least that jackass could have done was tell me when I got there, not wait until noon.” I walk around the corner to see a man standing in the middle of the path. I take a seldom used bike trail home, and it is odd to see someone else using it, particularly since he is just standing there. Suddenly he looks up at me, and I see his eyes widen, a look of astonishment on his face.
“Are you Alexander Stone?” he asks with a slightly shaky voice.
“Umm… that would greatly depend on who is asking.” I reply, concerned how this random stranger would know my name.
“Listen, we don't have time for this. I haven't worked out all of the calculations. We only have…“ he pauses to look at one of the three watches on his wrist. “… 1 minute, 18 seconds left. I need you to believe me. You don't know me, but I know you! You are Alexander Stone, age 23. Right now you are walking home from work. You got off early since your boss accidentally scheduled Tom as well as yourself today. Shortly after you get home, the UPS guy will show up with that jacket you ordered online… actually, if we calculate the delay, he will probably beat you there…”
The man once again looks at his watches. “I have to get back. I will see you again soon.” With that, he runs into the wooded area beside the trail.
I think about following him, but quickly decide that only a fool would follow a crazy man into the woods, especially after that spectacle. He knows my name and my age. Has he been following me? Admittedly, in the information age, it isn't that difficult to find information on someone, so I continue home, watching my back the entire way.
As I walk up the flight of stairs to the third floor, I run into a man wearing a UPS delivery uniform. I can't help but think that this is too weird. I continue up the stairs, and see a package outside my door. I grab it, open the door, and walk inside. It is the leather jacket I ordered off of Amazon for the 50’s party I am going to in a few weeks. Great! Not only did this guy research me, he must have hacked my amazon account and found the expected arrival date. Looks like I am changing that password. I should probably be safe and check my security settings on my social media sites too.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
“Maybe I overreacted.” I think to myself as I walk to work. “Almost a whole week has passed, and I haven't seen or heard from that creepy stalker guy.” That guy had caused me so much stress. I changed all of my passwords to every website I use, and I even got a new set of locks for my door, just in case.
Just as it was starting to look as if all of my caution was unwarranted, I saw him standing in the middle of the path again. I turned to run the other direction, but he screamed to me.
“Stop, please! I know this must seem crazy, but you have to listen to me. I am close to perfecting the Particle Acclimater, but until then I only have short bursts of time to convince you. It was no accident that you have been getting released from work early the past few days.”
How could he have known that I was sent home early again on Thursday and then Monday? He must have been following me this whole time.
“You are going to get fired.” He continued. “At exactly 3:35 this afternoon, Frank will call you into his office and let you know. After you leave, you will see the old man that lives in 1C of your building walking into the diner a block down from the store, and he will invite you to join him for a cup of coffee.” He looks down at his watch again, this time he was only wearing two. “My time is almost up once again, but by the next time I transfer back here, I should be stable enough to stay long enough to explain. Hopefully everything I have told you will make you believe me, because this is only the beginning of the revelations I have for you.” With that, he once again runs into the woods.
I don’t take the time to wonder what he is doing, I just bolt towards work. I will get through today, and tonight I will file a police report against this nutter.
--------------
I get to work a few minutes late, but Frank doesn't seem to notice. All for the better, I suppose. There are too many customers that need my assistance for him to do anything anyway. I can’t believe that that psycho would think they would fire me. There isn't a single employee at the store that has half of the knowledge about technology that I do, and at an electronics store, there isn't much else that matters. Sure, I may not be the most diligent employee, but if I had a quarter for every customer that told me they would definitely talk to management about how great I was, I would be able to quit. Hell, if even half of them actually talked to Frank, I would probably be promoted by now. So, I continue my day as normal. Admittedly, as the day wears on, I am getting a little nervous. It is only natural for things to feel a little eerie after what has happened. Things escalate when Frank calls me into his office. I can't bring myself to look at the clock.
“Listen Alex,” Franks starts, looking solemn, “there is no easy way to say this. Corporate sent us our projective budget goals for the next quarter, and we are going to have to let you go.”
“Frank, this is bullshit!” I cry. “How the hell do you plan to run this place without me? There is no way Tom can explain the difference between an N and AC router. Is Heather going to describe the difference between DDR3 and DDR5 Ram to a customer? You guys need me!”
“Alex, I'm sorry. I’ve tried to convince the higher ups to reconsider, but their minds are made up. You were the most recent hire, and, quite frankly, have been late more times than any other salesperson. The decision is made. You have until 4 to clean out your locker. I really am sorry, Alex”
As much as I can't bear to check, I look at my watch; 3:35. I can't believe this. Could that crazy dude really have some clairvoyant or psychic powers or something? No way, he must have hacked into Frank’s email and seen that I was getting fired. Frank was probably told when to call me in as well.
I clean out my locker and drop off my name badge and accessories at H.R. with a few minutes to spare. As I am walking out of the building, I see Mr. Wilkinson from 1C walking across the street. I can't help but think that if this old man invites me to coffee, I am going to flip shit.
Sure enough, as Mr. Wilkinson walks up, he says, “Are you getting out early again? Well, if you have spare time, I am about to grab a cup of coffee, would you like to join me?”
I think it is about time I gave that guy my attention.
-----
I spend the next day entirely in turmoil. I put in over a dozen applications online. All the while, I had this cloud over my head that some random stranger held the keys to my life in his hands, and could see everything ahead of me. As I reflected on this, I heard the doorbell ring. I opened it, and he was standing there.
“I just want you to know that you are my favorite book character, and I know how it ends, and I want to help change it.”
--------------
-------------- | |
[WP] Your door bell rings. It's a person from an alternate universe, who says, "I just want you to know that you are my favorite book character and I know how it ends and I want to help change it" | "Your favorite... What?" I ask.
I'm a writer and this small, blonde lady isn't intimidating. At best she's good material and at worst she's just interrupted my Sunday afternoon bourbon drinking.
"Character," she says, quietly. Nervously.
"Okay," I say, smiling congenially. She's wearing a tank top and cutoffs, she's not carrying... Though I wonder how she made it past the gate guards.
She thrusts a handful of yellowed pages into my hand. Tears stripe down her perfectly powdered cheeks. She turns and jogs away down my winding drive.
I have a weird sense of deja vue.
I glance down at the pages.
"This time, read them!" the tear stained, hand written scrawl across the top of the first page says.
Against my better judgement, I do.
I walk down the lane, through the cool dark shade of 2 dozen cedars. She stands there, her back to me.
"You'll love me?" she asks.
"I'll try to, " I say.
Her breath hitches.
"I hope so," she says.
She is th the happy ending I've avoided for so long. | (When I started writing this it was because I found it in /new and I was the first one.)
Silence permeated through the room like a tsunami of thick air. Oliver was laying on the floor of his Los Angeles studio, ways away from his home in England. Despite his fear of rejection, he proposed a date to Jacqueline. She was an American girl in his maths class at the local community college.
He wrote the rough draft of his proposal at 5:05, finished the last draft at 12:34, and finally sent it at 14:13. He was wearing a nice shirt, a blazer, and trousers. He cleaned his glasses compulsively, not breaking eye contact with his ceiling in fear of it going somewhere.
He finally received a text from her and realized that if she rejected his idea, he got dressed for naught. He unlocked his phone and felt his heart beating in his ears. She said she would love to and that she'd be right over. He texted her his address and waited. He got up and paced around his apartment wrapped by vines of anxiety. He shut his eyes and imagined images of his childhood in Surrey. He thought about how the vibrant colours of the park defied the blanket of clouds above. His panicked stroll down memory lane was interrupted by the sound of someone knocking on his door repeatedly. He took in a breath of cold air to soothe the flames in his stomach.
He opened the door and was met by a very muscular man as tall as a Christmas tree.
"Nathaniel Green?" he said in a voice so deep it felt like the ground was shaking beneath his trembling feet.
"Y-yes. Can I help you?" He managed. The expression of the man suddenly bloomed a petal of excitement. His demeanour went from lumbering lunatic to lumbering lunatic at Junior Prom.
"I just want you to know that you are my favourite book character and I know how it ends and I want to help change it." he explained.
"I don't understand. Is this a prank? I would prefer to have none of it, thank you." he replied.
"There's no time for this. She's going to be here any second, just don't use an ATM." the gruff man issued the ultimatum and left post-haste. He walked down the hall and through a door marked "broom closet". Nathaniel was confused by the warning. He checked his wallet and he had enough money for a casual lunch. He silently assured himself that one of the other guys in the shop downstairs set up this prank and that an ATM is stationary and could only hurt his pride.
He shut the door and returned inside. Moments later he heard a light knock at the door. He opened the door and was met by the lovely features of his date. Her glasses matched the shape of her face, her hair was like a silk waterfall of the night sky, and her smile was as beautiful as her warm chocolate eyes.
He was at a loss for words and his tornado of anxiety couldn't muster the power to move a feather.
Jacqueline could feel his nerves smothering him and greeted him first with standard pleasantries and an affectionate hug. Nathaniel reciprocated the gesture after snapping out of his introspective trance and felt more comfortable about the situation. He triple-checked locking the door behind him and they proceeded to walk down the hall to exit the building and get in her car. On his way, he noticed that he couldn't find the broom closet. Instead he simply saw a bare wall and thought nothing of it.
"Hey, I heard that new Revenge of Blade movie is coming out. Do you want to go see it after lunch?" she suggested. Nathaniel never enjoyed horror films, but he liked Jacqueline more.
"Of course, I'd love to. Just let me stop at the ATM first." Nathaniel remembered the strange man, but decided his date was more important to him. He walked downstairs to the convenience store and greeted the owner, Amir. He took out his wallet and walked over to the intersection of the sports drinks and potato crisps and put in his card. He checked his balance and was disappointed by his measly $38.47. He was about to withdraw all of his money when he heard multiple heavy footsteps and panicked murmurs.
"Nobody move, this is a robbery. You," he said, pointing a handgun at Amir "hands up. If you move an inch I'll turn your face into a doughnut. J, empty the register and whatever he's got. Check the back." he instructed his partner.
"Hey, hands up. Step away from the ATM." He shouted at Nathaniel. He walked over and grabbed Jacqueline. "Give me those earrings" he demanded, tightening his grip on her arm. Something clicked in Nathaniel's mind.
"Leave her alone." he said with his hands now at his sides and his feet planted firmly on the ground.
"Oh, we've got a hero now. I'll do whatever I want and you'll do whatever I say."
"What are you going to do? Shoot me?" | |
[WP] Your door bell rings. It's a person from an alternate universe, who says, "I just want you to know that you are my favorite book character and I know how it ends and I want to help change it" | "Come again?"
"I said, I just want you to know that you're my fav-"
"Yeah, I meant explain it, not repeat it."
She looked at me like I had just made her day. usually the people I shut down or yell at don't react like that, but she was practically giddy.
"You're just like the books. Snarky, clever, and meeeean!" I wasn't fond of people gushing, but I wondered if I was supposed to be complimented by that.
"Come on, out with it or I'm going to close the door and go back to jacking it."
Somehow she was unfazed by that, maybe she did know me. "Well look, you see, in my universe, you're a fictional character, people read books starring... well... You."
"And... I'm popular?"
"Tremendously so, you're amazing! People love you! You're a best seller!"
"That's completely ridiculous. On this world, or any other world, the idea that I would end up as a beloved character is completely ridiculous. Please find whatever medication you're supposed to be taking, take twice that amount, and then check yourself back into whatever mental hospital you escaped from."
Again she looked delighted, it was like there was no mean thing I could say to this girl that would turn her away, I even briefly contemplated being nice just to try something different, but I don't think my heart could take it. I started to close the door as she shoved herself between the door and the frame.
"WAIT, Seriously! You have to listen to me. This is life and death here, super important stuff. Please please please just listen to me and then you can throw me out or call the cops or whatever."
"Look, I'm going to let you say whatever ridiculous bullshit you came here to say, if for no other reason than I don't really want any of your blood on my door." Then again, she was a cutie. A crazy cutie of course, but she had bad taste, something that worked innately in my favor.
"Ok, on my Earth, our time is slightly ahead of yours, so I've already read your latest novel, which happens about a week from now. You're very lucky I went to the midnight release for it because otherwise I wouldn't have finished it fast enough to make it here in time. I even got the author to sign a copy and she's notoriously reclusive so it was -"
"Just get to the point."
"Ok. Look, you die at the end. You die and I don't want you to."
I closed my eyes and shook my head slowly. "Who sent you, really?"
"I'm serious... You know what you're going to do already, I just want you to rethink it. You matter, you matter so much more than you know. You... You matter to me."
"And you think to tell me this now? It's good to know that I manage to kill myself though, I'd been losing sleep over whether or not I'd manage to do it in one shot, or I'd lay on the floor, writhing in pain as I lamented missing my brain at close range."
Tears began to well up in her eyes. I'd never done well with girls who cried. Or really people who cried. Or even people in general. It was weird to frame it like that, but there was no spectrum of human emotion that I was particularly comfortable with, and this girl had spent the better part of a half an hour displaying all of them. Maybe that's why I found her revolting and interesting in the same breath.
"You can't talk that way. You're my absolute favorite, like I said, everyone loves you..."
"I'm not living my life for anyone else, I'm not staying alive just so you and your perverted voyeurs can get your jollies off at my expense. And if I hadn't already decided to dispose of myself, the first thing I'd do was go find that author of yours and get some long overdue residuals. If I'm that famous I'm sure there's a movie deal out there that I'm getting fucked over."
The tears were starting to fall rather freely from her cheeks, and before I realized it, they were falling from mine too. It hurt to talk like this all the time, it hurt to be me sometimes... most of the time... probably all of the time really.
"Maybe I'm a celebrity over there, but I'm not shit here, I don't mean a god damn over here. I'm a nobody, a very unhappy, misanthropic nobody."
"So... come back with me."
"It... works like that?"
"I mean I got here didn't I? Yeah I can take you back with me. I'm not supposed to really, there are some rules attached to it, but my friends are going to be soooo jealous, I mean come on, I get to meet you AND save your life? It's like amazing. And I mean... You deserve a chance to be happy."
"I always figured I deserved a lot of things I wasn't going to get."
"Well, now It's up to you."
"Fuck."
I sighed, opened up the door the rest of the way and just left it hanging open now, I didn't care who came in anymore.
"So that means...?"
"Come in, take a seat, grab a soda or something. I'm going to pack a bag or two. And If I don't like this new dimension, I'm getting that bastard author of yours to write me a fat check and I'm catching the first whatever back to this shit hole so I can go through with my initial plans."
She nodded her head, barely able to contain her excitement. I was more excited than I wanted to be. Maybe I should just be happy for myself... for once... for ever.
Edit - I'd love some feedback, I'm trying to get better (Or at least less bad). | (When I started writing this it was because I found it in /new and I was the first one.)
Silence permeated through the room like a tsunami of thick air. Oliver was laying on the floor of his Los Angeles studio, ways away from his home in England. Despite his fear of rejection, he proposed a date to Jacqueline. She was an American girl in his maths class at the local community college.
He wrote the rough draft of his proposal at 5:05, finished the last draft at 12:34, and finally sent it at 14:13. He was wearing a nice shirt, a blazer, and trousers. He cleaned his glasses compulsively, not breaking eye contact with his ceiling in fear of it going somewhere.
He finally received a text from her and realized that if she rejected his idea, he got dressed for naught. He unlocked his phone and felt his heart beating in his ears. She said she would love to and that she'd be right over. He texted her his address and waited. He got up and paced around his apartment wrapped by vines of anxiety. He shut his eyes and imagined images of his childhood in Surrey. He thought about how the vibrant colours of the park defied the blanket of clouds above. His panicked stroll down memory lane was interrupted by the sound of someone knocking on his door repeatedly. He took in a breath of cold air to soothe the flames in his stomach.
He opened the door and was met by a very muscular man as tall as a Christmas tree.
"Nathaniel Green?" he said in a voice so deep it felt like the ground was shaking beneath his trembling feet.
"Y-yes. Can I help you?" He managed. The expression of the man suddenly bloomed a petal of excitement. His demeanour went from lumbering lunatic to lumbering lunatic at Junior Prom.
"I just want you to know that you are my favourite book character and I know how it ends and I want to help change it." he explained.
"I don't understand. Is this a prank? I would prefer to have none of it, thank you." he replied.
"There's no time for this. She's going to be here any second, just don't use an ATM." the gruff man issued the ultimatum and left post-haste. He walked down the hall and through a door marked "broom closet". Nathaniel was confused by the warning. He checked his wallet and he had enough money for a casual lunch. He silently assured himself that one of the other guys in the shop downstairs set up this prank and that an ATM is stationary and could only hurt his pride.
He shut the door and returned inside. Moments later he heard a light knock at the door. He opened the door and was met by the lovely features of his date. Her glasses matched the shape of her face, her hair was like a silk waterfall of the night sky, and her smile was as beautiful as her warm chocolate eyes.
He was at a loss for words and his tornado of anxiety couldn't muster the power to move a feather.
Jacqueline could feel his nerves smothering him and greeted him first with standard pleasantries and an affectionate hug. Nathaniel reciprocated the gesture after snapping out of his introspective trance and felt more comfortable about the situation. He triple-checked locking the door behind him and they proceeded to walk down the hall to exit the building and get in her car. On his way, he noticed that he couldn't find the broom closet. Instead he simply saw a bare wall and thought nothing of it.
"Hey, I heard that new Revenge of Blade movie is coming out. Do you want to go see it after lunch?" she suggested. Nathaniel never enjoyed horror films, but he liked Jacqueline more.
"Of course, I'd love to. Just let me stop at the ATM first." Nathaniel remembered the strange man, but decided his date was more important to him. He walked downstairs to the convenience store and greeted the owner, Amir. He took out his wallet and walked over to the intersection of the sports drinks and potato crisps and put in his card. He checked his balance and was disappointed by his measly $38.47. He was about to withdraw all of his money when he heard multiple heavy footsteps and panicked murmurs.
"Nobody move, this is a robbery. You," he said, pointing a handgun at Amir "hands up. If you move an inch I'll turn your face into a doughnut. J, empty the register and whatever he's got. Check the back." he instructed his partner.
"Hey, hands up. Step away from the ATM." He shouted at Nathaniel. He walked over and grabbed Jacqueline. "Give me those earrings" he demanded, tightening his grip on her arm. Something clicked in Nathaniel's mind.
"Leave her alone." he said with his hands now at his sides and his feet planted firmly on the ground.
"Oh, we've got a hero now. I'll do whatever I want and you'll do whatever I say."
"What are you going to do? Shoot me?" | |
[WP] Your door bell rings. It's a person from an alternate universe, who says, "I just want you to know that you are my favorite book character and I know how it ends and I want to help change it" | "What?" I asked.
The young tanned boy with long black hair nodded, "Yup. I come from Sector 521. It's in a parallel universe a few atomic seconds ahead of yours. You humans haven't discovered much about that stuff yet though," he closed his eyes and smiled.
I looked around outside: it began snowing a few days prior and hadn't let up. My parents were away for the weekend with my younger brother and sister. I had school and had to stay home. Minding your business is difficult when things like this happen. The kid had on what looked like white spandex, and wore a giant white coat. He had no shoes on, but that didn't seem to bother him too much.
I had a glass of red in my hand and decided to take a generous gulp. "Listen kid, it's cold outside. Why don't you go on home," I tried to be mean about it. He didn't seem to notice or care.
"Nope! I'm not going home until you let me help you. I know how it all ends, and I have the power to stop it!" He held up a small light blue watch. It blinked rapidly. It seemed to be as excited as he was.
I took another couple gulps, "You say you're from another universe..."
The boy nodded.
"And that I'm your favorite character in your favorite novel... that exists inside of *only* your universe..." I said trying to make sure I heard it right.
"Yup! I can't let you die! Not if I can stop it!" He bounced up a little when he said it.
I sighed and looked up at the still, white sky. With the door still open, I sat down on its ledge and motioned for the boy to sit. He looked at me quizzically and obliged.
I finished my glass of wine and set it down inside behind me. I crossed my hands and looked out into the cold, still world. The boy seemed momentarily confused and then looked out as well.
"You know what I like most about the snow?" I asked through a now-foggy pair of glasses.
"Page 287, chapter 10: It's like time itself is as frozen as the world around me," said the boy with an upbeat tone.
I grunted and smiled, "Yes."
The boy and I stared out at the falling snow for quite a while. There was no wind in the trees. It wasn't bitterly cold; only just enough for the wonderland and hot steamy breaths to ensue. I didn't say a word, and simply looked. The boy looked at me, hoping I would say something. Finally, after a few moments his face dropped and his expression became grim.
"You won't let me help you, will you?" He asked on the verge of tears.
I took off my glasses and rubbed away the fog with the cuff of my long sleeve shirt, "No. No I will not," I said after putting them back on.
"Why?" He asked. His blue eyes reflected the world around us, and in them I saw the hope of child beginning to fade away.
I would've gone back to saying nothing; that's just how I am. I decided against that thought, "Because nothing in this, or any universe, is permanent. You being here now has greatly affected the way that my future will eventually play out. I expect that when you return to your world, that it will be much the same. You must understand this, " I said to him, already saying more to him than I did to any other person in the past couple weeks.
He looked down to the ground and his hair sagged with him, "I know," he said. The watch on his wrist seemed to reflect his moods. I said nothing for a moment.
"I want you to have something," I said. The boy looked at me with an odd expression. I took off the necklace I was wearing: it was a simple thin rope that held a yin-yang symbol in the shape of a gear. I handed it to him and he gently held it in both his hands. He wordlessly put it around his neck and stood. I watched him with a growing sense of sadness. He descended the three steps and paused on my walkway. He turned and looked at me for the last time. A tear rolled down his cheek, "It doesn't have to end like this," he said.
I stared at him harshly, "Yes it does. We live in an uncertain universe. We think we have the answers to every question, yet every question we answer only produces more questions. We can hope that we we'll be ready for what is to come, yet we'll always forever be in the dark," I said.
The boy seemed to get frightened. I continued, "Just Remember: All Eventually Fades. As long as you remember that nothing is forever, you can live your life happily, free of the veil and chains. Do not fear my friend," I said. I stood up slowly. The boy watched my every move.
"The snow..." I said closing my eyes and smiling, "it takes my imagination to another universe." Just then, a blood vessel in my right temple popped. My head jittered back and I fell forward. Darkness flooded my vision, and the world ceased to be. | (When I started writing this it was because I found it in /new and I was the first one.)
Silence permeated through the room like a tsunami of thick air. Oliver was laying on the floor of his Los Angeles studio, ways away from his home in England. Despite his fear of rejection, he proposed a date to Jacqueline. She was an American girl in his maths class at the local community college.
He wrote the rough draft of his proposal at 5:05, finished the last draft at 12:34, and finally sent it at 14:13. He was wearing a nice shirt, a blazer, and trousers. He cleaned his glasses compulsively, not breaking eye contact with his ceiling in fear of it going somewhere.
He finally received a text from her and realized that if she rejected his idea, he got dressed for naught. He unlocked his phone and felt his heart beating in his ears. She said she would love to and that she'd be right over. He texted her his address and waited. He got up and paced around his apartment wrapped by vines of anxiety. He shut his eyes and imagined images of his childhood in Surrey. He thought about how the vibrant colours of the park defied the blanket of clouds above. His panicked stroll down memory lane was interrupted by the sound of someone knocking on his door repeatedly. He took in a breath of cold air to soothe the flames in his stomach.
He opened the door and was met by a very muscular man as tall as a Christmas tree.
"Nathaniel Green?" he said in a voice so deep it felt like the ground was shaking beneath his trembling feet.
"Y-yes. Can I help you?" He managed. The expression of the man suddenly bloomed a petal of excitement. His demeanour went from lumbering lunatic to lumbering lunatic at Junior Prom.
"I just want you to know that you are my favourite book character and I know how it ends and I want to help change it." he explained.
"I don't understand. Is this a prank? I would prefer to have none of it, thank you." he replied.
"There's no time for this. She's going to be here any second, just don't use an ATM." the gruff man issued the ultimatum and left post-haste. He walked down the hall and through a door marked "broom closet". Nathaniel was confused by the warning. He checked his wallet and he had enough money for a casual lunch. He silently assured himself that one of the other guys in the shop downstairs set up this prank and that an ATM is stationary and could only hurt his pride.
He shut the door and returned inside. Moments later he heard a light knock at the door. He opened the door and was met by the lovely features of his date. Her glasses matched the shape of her face, her hair was like a silk waterfall of the night sky, and her smile was as beautiful as her warm chocolate eyes.
He was at a loss for words and his tornado of anxiety couldn't muster the power to move a feather.
Jacqueline could feel his nerves smothering him and greeted him first with standard pleasantries and an affectionate hug. Nathaniel reciprocated the gesture after snapping out of his introspective trance and felt more comfortable about the situation. He triple-checked locking the door behind him and they proceeded to walk down the hall to exit the building and get in her car. On his way, he noticed that he couldn't find the broom closet. Instead he simply saw a bare wall and thought nothing of it.
"Hey, I heard that new Revenge of Blade movie is coming out. Do you want to go see it after lunch?" she suggested. Nathaniel never enjoyed horror films, but he liked Jacqueline more.
"Of course, I'd love to. Just let me stop at the ATM first." Nathaniel remembered the strange man, but decided his date was more important to him. He walked downstairs to the convenience store and greeted the owner, Amir. He took out his wallet and walked over to the intersection of the sports drinks and potato crisps and put in his card. He checked his balance and was disappointed by his measly $38.47. He was about to withdraw all of his money when he heard multiple heavy footsteps and panicked murmurs.
"Nobody move, this is a robbery. You," he said, pointing a handgun at Amir "hands up. If you move an inch I'll turn your face into a doughnut. J, empty the register and whatever he's got. Check the back." he instructed his partner.
"Hey, hands up. Step away from the ATM." He shouted at Nathaniel. He walked over and grabbed Jacqueline. "Give me those earrings" he demanded, tightening his grip on her arm. Something clicked in Nathaniel's mind.
"Leave her alone." he said with his hands now at his sides and his feet planted firmly on the ground.
"Oh, we've got a hero now. I'll do whatever I want and you'll do whatever I say."
"What are you going to do? Shoot me?" | |
[WP] Your door bell rings. It's a person from an alternate universe, who says, "I just want you to know that you are my favorite book character and I know how it ends and I want to help change it" | I stare confused. The kid gives me his best "I'm serious, but crazy psyched to be here, but totally serious" face. I think, 'whatever', how this last week has been- shit can't get any more weird. I look the kid up and down. Make sure he knows what he's in for. He seems legit. I guess. Hell, he could have been a figment of my imagination, doesn't matter much now.
A deep "Thump" shakes the world. He looks all around. I've grown use to them.
"So you want in?"
He shakes his head enthusiastically, trying his best to hold back a "HOLY FUCKING SHIT" smile.
"Alright". I hold out my fist. He gets his game face on; throws his fist out. --EPIC BRO-FIST-- I slide the sunglasses out of my pocket and onto my nose thingy.
Again, from the outside world. "THUMP"
"Let's light... wait" I step back in to my apartment. A few clicks of my mouse and I'm heading to the door. As I step out I take a second to face the kid. The Who, "We Won't Get Fooled Again" blares in the background.
"Alright, let's light this bitch up". Sunglasses on as Roger Daltery belts out "YEEEEAAAA!" Slam the door, fuck the lock, fuck the music- it's go time. We head out the fake spanish courtyard and to the parking lot.
Diagonally parked across 3 spaces is a black slightly used 68 Dodge Charger B Body with the coveted R/T logo. It's got a few dents and scrapes, but like Han says about the Falcon, it gives it character. I fling the door drivers door open and fall into the seat like I'm being cached by my guardian angel. The kid has to put his weight into the passenger's side door to get it open. He slides into the black vinyl seat. Again, he has to muscle the door closed.
"They're a bit heavier than today. The is a relic from a by gone era". I start to turn the key. "A time of steel-" ignition- gas- it roars muscle thunder "- and fire"
"So you know the game plan, right?"
"You don't have a game plan" he screams over the 426 Hemi.
I give him a crooked smile and nod. The kid's done his homework.
Clutch, first gear, gas and were screaming down the highway. It doesn't take long. Over the first slight crest in the landscape and we see it. 40 stories of iron hell, The Mechasaur. A solid iron clockwork, steam-punk tyrannosaurs tearing a path of devastation though, The Town. Ear shattering screams split the air as fire shoots from it's eyes and a locomotive size chainsaw whip lashes from its gaping maw. Explosions leap off it's iron hide. The scoured and dented juggernaut lumbers on.
I start running some game plans though my head. The road will take us right to it. Though destruction erupts all around us we have a clean shot to the base of the beast.
"Okay, kid. Here's my plan"
'Click', a pinch on my wrist. I look down. A hand cuff, what the fuck! At this moment I loose that precious barrier between me and my inner monolog.
"What the fuck" to confused to do anything else I stare at the kid with equal parts astonishment and disappointment.
He's trying to get a lot out in a short time, he talks quickly. "Sorry, I never liked how the story ended."
"HOW THE FUCK IS THIS BETTER?"
"Look, you live, alright, you defeat the Mechasur. But you take the fall for everything that's happened. The Chaos Portals, the interdimensional alien invasions, all of it. You become the fall guy for everything. But you are suppose to be the hero"
I'm scrambling to comprehend, "What, like in Ghostbusters 2"
A gentle hand rest on my shoulder and he says with the most honest pity a true humanitarian could summon, "Yes, just like in Ghostbusters 2".
I look back at the road. A 160 mile per hour Mechasaur foot begins to take up the entire windshield.
"Click"..."thump" The kid just bailed out of car. The door bounces to close in the wind but won't latch.
"Well, Fuck me". Denial sets in.
"WHAT!? No, no no! This can't be right. I can't die. I mean two days ago the ghost of Neil Armstrong helped me steal an Apache Attack Helicopter from Area 51. Together we shot down the Illuminati Zeppelin before they could activate the Omega Crystal. I just translated the Atlantis Hyper-fusion codex yesterday. I haven't even time traveled yet, not event once. I don't know if the fucking thing even works! GOD DAMNIT! And now, some punk ass kid is going to hand cuff me to the steering wheel of my fucking dream car. This is Bull-shit. This is fucking bu-" BAM!
The pinnacle of American automobile design known as the Charger B Body disintegrates as it slams into the clanging ankle of the Mechasaur. I don't know what happened next. But some how know that in the end, I die a hero. Thanks kid.
Edit: no time to proof read worth a shit
| (When I started writing this it was because I found it in /new and I was the first one.)
Silence permeated through the room like a tsunami of thick air. Oliver was laying on the floor of his Los Angeles studio, ways away from his home in England. Despite his fear of rejection, he proposed a date to Jacqueline. She was an American girl in his maths class at the local community college.
He wrote the rough draft of his proposal at 5:05, finished the last draft at 12:34, and finally sent it at 14:13. He was wearing a nice shirt, a blazer, and trousers. He cleaned his glasses compulsively, not breaking eye contact with his ceiling in fear of it going somewhere.
He finally received a text from her and realized that if she rejected his idea, he got dressed for naught. He unlocked his phone and felt his heart beating in his ears. She said she would love to and that she'd be right over. He texted her his address and waited. He got up and paced around his apartment wrapped by vines of anxiety. He shut his eyes and imagined images of his childhood in Surrey. He thought about how the vibrant colours of the park defied the blanket of clouds above. His panicked stroll down memory lane was interrupted by the sound of someone knocking on his door repeatedly. He took in a breath of cold air to soothe the flames in his stomach.
He opened the door and was met by a very muscular man as tall as a Christmas tree.
"Nathaniel Green?" he said in a voice so deep it felt like the ground was shaking beneath his trembling feet.
"Y-yes. Can I help you?" He managed. The expression of the man suddenly bloomed a petal of excitement. His demeanour went from lumbering lunatic to lumbering lunatic at Junior Prom.
"I just want you to know that you are my favourite book character and I know how it ends and I want to help change it." he explained.
"I don't understand. Is this a prank? I would prefer to have none of it, thank you." he replied.
"There's no time for this. She's going to be here any second, just don't use an ATM." the gruff man issued the ultimatum and left post-haste. He walked down the hall and through a door marked "broom closet". Nathaniel was confused by the warning. He checked his wallet and he had enough money for a casual lunch. He silently assured himself that one of the other guys in the shop downstairs set up this prank and that an ATM is stationary and could only hurt his pride.
He shut the door and returned inside. Moments later he heard a light knock at the door. He opened the door and was met by the lovely features of his date. Her glasses matched the shape of her face, her hair was like a silk waterfall of the night sky, and her smile was as beautiful as her warm chocolate eyes.
He was at a loss for words and his tornado of anxiety couldn't muster the power to move a feather.
Jacqueline could feel his nerves smothering him and greeted him first with standard pleasantries and an affectionate hug. Nathaniel reciprocated the gesture after snapping out of his introspective trance and felt more comfortable about the situation. He triple-checked locking the door behind him and they proceeded to walk down the hall to exit the building and get in her car. On his way, he noticed that he couldn't find the broom closet. Instead he simply saw a bare wall and thought nothing of it.
"Hey, I heard that new Revenge of Blade movie is coming out. Do you want to go see it after lunch?" she suggested. Nathaniel never enjoyed horror films, but he liked Jacqueline more.
"Of course, I'd love to. Just let me stop at the ATM first." Nathaniel remembered the strange man, but decided his date was more important to him. He walked downstairs to the convenience store and greeted the owner, Amir. He took out his wallet and walked over to the intersection of the sports drinks and potato crisps and put in his card. He checked his balance and was disappointed by his measly $38.47. He was about to withdraw all of his money when he heard multiple heavy footsteps and panicked murmurs.
"Nobody move, this is a robbery. You," he said, pointing a handgun at Amir "hands up. If you move an inch I'll turn your face into a doughnut. J, empty the register and whatever he's got. Check the back." he instructed his partner.
"Hey, hands up. Step away from the ATM." He shouted at Nathaniel. He walked over and grabbed Jacqueline. "Give me those earrings" he demanded, tightening his grip on her arm. Something clicked in Nathaniel's mind.
"Leave her alone." he said with his hands now at his sides and his feet planted firmly on the ground.
"Oh, we've got a hero now. I'll do whatever I want and you'll do whatever I say."
"What are you going to do? Shoot me?" | |
[WP] Your door bell rings. It's a person from an alternate universe, who says, "I just want you to know that you are my favorite book character and I know how it ends and I want to help change it" | (From the door-ringer's perspective.)
I stood in front of the dilapidated brick house, double checking the address. Even though I knew what I was looking for, it had been unnaturally difficult to find. I probably passed it numerous times without noticing. The bell didn't seem to make any sound so I slapped the solid wood door for good measure.
The door opened just enough that he could barricade the gap with his body. Every line of his face was harsh and unwelcoming as he glared at his guest. I imagined I only had a few seconds before he would slam the door shut.
"Professor Snape, I need to speak to you. I know about the horcruxes and deathly hallows and the prophesy---"
I was invited in with a forceful yank. The door slammed shut behind me and *muffliato* as well as a few other spell I couldn't catch but were probably wards were cast. When he turned back to face me his expression was somehow more hostile than before.
"Who are you," he demanded, "why are you here?"
"I'm a muggle but from an alternate world about 16 or 17 years ahead of you. There is no magic in my world but we have a book, a children's story, about your world up to around the fall of Voldemort. Sorry," I apologize when he hissed at the name. "I know how it ends and I want to help change it because you die before Vol-uh-you-know-who is defeated. You're my favorite character. I want you to live, you deserve to live and be recognized for all you did for the Wizarding World. I know this must sound hard to believe, but you're a legilimens. You know I'm not lying but I can also take Veritaserum."
He made a dismissive gesture so I continued with my retelling of the last book focusing on the battle of Hogwarts, the events leading up to his death by Nagini in the Shrieking Shack, his memories, ownership of the Elder wand, the destruction of the Horcruxes, Voldemort's demise, and how Harry survived death. Snape occasionally made a sniping comment or asked for clarification but otherwise said little through the long explanation. I tried to cram in every important and unimportant detail I could recall.
Then he grilled me on events that had already come to pass in this world to test the accuracy of my information. Everything matched up and in some cases I was able to fill in some gaps in his knowledge.
"And the Dark Lord truly dies?" He asked finally.
"Yes, for good. Never to return. Stuck in Limbo forever because he tore his soul apart." I assured. And then remembering the purpose of my trip. "You must remember not to go to the Shrieking Shack."
He looked thoughtful so I continued.
"You-know-who believes you are master of the Elder Wand. Nagini will bite you." I reminded him so he wouldn't forget. Even if he forgot everything else, he had to remember this.
"And yet this might be the best chance for the Wizarding World if what you say is true."
"I -- what?!" I yelped in shock. "No! You can't mean --- You. You will die!" I stammered, my voice rising so he might better understand.
"I had not be able to come up with a way to speak to the Potter boy and make him trust me but this he will believe. He will believe the memories. But no spell exists, as far as I know, to make memories exude from your eyes and nose and ears. Was that not explained in the book?" He asked, but when I proved speechless he continued on.
"Perhaps a potion to bind memory to bodily fluid. That could explain why these memories were silver-blue and neither liquid nor gas, opposed to the typical silver hair like whisps. A potion mixed with legilimency technique and wandless magic, it will take time to develop. And I must make the sword of Griffindor avaliable to Mr. Longbottom before I am ousted from Hogwarts, as you put it."
"So you are going to your death. Knowlingly. That's Harry Potter's job. Stupid and reckless. I didnt know you were so Griffindor, valuing mindless courage over cunning. Where's your Slytherin resourcefulness and sense of self-preservation."
"No, it would be stupid and reckless to not use your information and let this chance escape. You've provided answers to many unsolved problems and shown us a single way to permanently rid ourselves of the Dark Lord. It is a narrow path but it is guarenteed. As knowledgeable as you may be, even you cannot know what will happen if we deviate from this course. I survived so long on my determination to see the Dark Lord fall, and had enough cunning and resourcefulness to play the faithful servant while doing so. I will not see my efforts fail. I will make the necessary preparations. I thank you for your information."
"But you will not see him fall, you will be dead." I tried one last time.
"I may not survive the battle but until that day I will live and prepare my victory. And I will die knowing and that is enough."
(Well I might have gotten a bit lost at the end but too tired to fix it) | (When I started writing this it was because I found it in /new and I was the first one.)
Silence permeated through the room like a tsunami of thick air. Oliver was laying on the floor of his Los Angeles studio, ways away from his home in England. Despite his fear of rejection, he proposed a date to Jacqueline. She was an American girl in his maths class at the local community college.
He wrote the rough draft of his proposal at 5:05, finished the last draft at 12:34, and finally sent it at 14:13. He was wearing a nice shirt, a blazer, and trousers. He cleaned his glasses compulsively, not breaking eye contact with his ceiling in fear of it going somewhere.
He finally received a text from her and realized that if she rejected his idea, he got dressed for naught. He unlocked his phone and felt his heart beating in his ears. She said she would love to and that she'd be right over. He texted her his address and waited. He got up and paced around his apartment wrapped by vines of anxiety. He shut his eyes and imagined images of his childhood in Surrey. He thought about how the vibrant colours of the park defied the blanket of clouds above. His panicked stroll down memory lane was interrupted by the sound of someone knocking on his door repeatedly. He took in a breath of cold air to soothe the flames in his stomach.
He opened the door and was met by a very muscular man as tall as a Christmas tree.
"Nathaniel Green?" he said in a voice so deep it felt like the ground was shaking beneath his trembling feet.
"Y-yes. Can I help you?" He managed. The expression of the man suddenly bloomed a petal of excitement. His demeanour went from lumbering lunatic to lumbering lunatic at Junior Prom.
"I just want you to know that you are my favourite book character and I know how it ends and I want to help change it." he explained.
"I don't understand. Is this a prank? I would prefer to have none of it, thank you." he replied.
"There's no time for this. She's going to be here any second, just don't use an ATM." the gruff man issued the ultimatum and left post-haste. He walked down the hall and through a door marked "broom closet". Nathaniel was confused by the warning. He checked his wallet and he had enough money for a casual lunch. He silently assured himself that one of the other guys in the shop downstairs set up this prank and that an ATM is stationary and could only hurt his pride.
He shut the door and returned inside. Moments later he heard a light knock at the door. He opened the door and was met by the lovely features of his date. Her glasses matched the shape of her face, her hair was like a silk waterfall of the night sky, and her smile was as beautiful as her warm chocolate eyes.
He was at a loss for words and his tornado of anxiety couldn't muster the power to move a feather.
Jacqueline could feel his nerves smothering him and greeted him first with standard pleasantries and an affectionate hug. Nathaniel reciprocated the gesture after snapping out of his introspective trance and felt more comfortable about the situation. He triple-checked locking the door behind him and they proceeded to walk down the hall to exit the building and get in her car. On his way, he noticed that he couldn't find the broom closet. Instead he simply saw a bare wall and thought nothing of it.
"Hey, I heard that new Revenge of Blade movie is coming out. Do you want to go see it after lunch?" she suggested. Nathaniel never enjoyed horror films, but he liked Jacqueline more.
"Of course, I'd love to. Just let me stop at the ATM first." Nathaniel remembered the strange man, but decided his date was more important to him. He walked downstairs to the convenience store and greeted the owner, Amir. He took out his wallet and walked over to the intersection of the sports drinks and potato crisps and put in his card. He checked his balance and was disappointed by his measly $38.47. He was about to withdraw all of his money when he heard multiple heavy footsteps and panicked murmurs.
"Nobody move, this is a robbery. You," he said, pointing a handgun at Amir "hands up. If you move an inch I'll turn your face into a doughnut. J, empty the register and whatever he's got. Check the back." he instructed his partner.
"Hey, hands up. Step away from the ATM." He shouted at Nathaniel. He walked over and grabbed Jacqueline. "Give me those earrings" he demanded, tightening his grip on her arm. Something clicked in Nathaniel's mind.
"Leave her alone." he said with his hands now at his sides and his feet planted firmly on the ground.
"Oh, we've got a hero now. I'll do whatever I want and you'll do whatever I say."
"What are you going to do? Shoot me?" | |
[WP] Your door bell rings. It's a person from an alternate universe, who says, "I just want you to know that you are my favorite book character and I know how it ends and I want to help change it" | "Come again?"
"I said, I just want you to know that you're my fav-"
"Yeah, I meant explain it, not repeat it."
She looked at me like I had just made her day. usually the people I shut down or yell at don't react like that, but she was practically giddy.
"You're just like the books. Snarky, clever, and meeeean!" I wasn't fond of people gushing, but I wondered if I was supposed to be complimented by that.
"Come on, out with it or I'm going to close the door and go back to jacking it."
Somehow she was unfazed by that, maybe she did know me. "Well look, you see, in my universe, you're a fictional character, people read books starring... well... You."
"And... I'm popular?"
"Tremendously so, you're amazing! People love you! You're a best seller!"
"That's completely ridiculous. On this world, or any other world, the idea that I would end up as a beloved character is completely ridiculous. Please find whatever medication you're supposed to be taking, take twice that amount, and then check yourself back into whatever mental hospital you escaped from."
Again she looked delighted, it was like there was no mean thing I could say to this girl that would turn her away, I even briefly contemplated being nice just to try something different, but I don't think my heart could take it. I started to close the door as she shoved herself between the door and the frame.
"WAIT, Seriously! You have to listen to me. This is life and death here, super important stuff. Please please please just listen to me and then you can throw me out or call the cops or whatever."
"Look, I'm going to let you say whatever ridiculous bullshit you came here to say, if for no other reason than I don't really want any of your blood on my door." Then again, she was a cutie. A crazy cutie of course, but she had bad taste, something that worked innately in my favor.
"Ok, on my Earth, our time is slightly ahead of yours, so I've already read your latest novel, which happens about a week from now. You're very lucky I went to the midnight release for it because otherwise I wouldn't have finished it fast enough to make it here in time. I even got the author to sign a copy and she's notoriously reclusive so it was -"
"Just get to the point."
"Ok. Look, you die at the end. You die and I don't want you to."
I closed my eyes and shook my head slowly. "Who sent you, really?"
"I'm serious... You know what you're going to do already, I just want you to rethink it. You matter, you matter so much more than you know. You... You matter to me."
"And you think to tell me this now? It's good to know that I manage to kill myself though, I'd been losing sleep over whether or not I'd manage to do it in one shot, or I'd lay on the floor, writhing in pain as I lamented missing my brain at close range."
Tears began to well up in her eyes. I'd never done well with girls who cried. Or really people who cried. Or even people in general. It was weird to frame it like that, but there was no spectrum of human emotion that I was particularly comfortable with, and this girl had spent the better part of a half an hour displaying all of them. Maybe that's why I found her revolting and interesting in the same breath.
"You can't talk that way. You're my absolute favorite, like I said, everyone loves you..."
"I'm not living my life for anyone else, I'm not staying alive just so you and your perverted voyeurs can get your jollies off at my expense. And if I hadn't already decided to dispose of myself, the first thing I'd do was go find that author of yours and get some long overdue residuals. If I'm that famous I'm sure there's a movie deal out there that I'm getting fucked over."
The tears were starting to fall rather freely from her cheeks, and before I realized it, they were falling from mine too. It hurt to talk like this all the time, it hurt to be me sometimes... most of the time... probably all of the time really.
"Maybe I'm a celebrity over there, but I'm not shit here, I don't mean a god damn over here. I'm a nobody, a very unhappy, misanthropic nobody."
"So... come back with me."
"It... works like that?"
"I mean I got here didn't I? Yeah I can take you back with me. I'm not supposed to really, there are some rules attached to it, but my friends are going to be soooo jealous, I mean come on, I get to meet you AND save your life? It's like amazing. And I mean... You deserve a chance to be happy."
"I always figured I deserved a lot of things I wasn't going to get."
"Well, now It's up to you."
"Fuck."
I sighed, opened up the door the rest of the way and just left it hanging open now, I didn't care who came in anymore.
"So that means...?"
"Come in, take a seat, grab a soda or something. I'm going to pack a bag or two. And If I don't like this new dimension, I'm getting that bastard author of yours to write me a fat check and I'm catching the first whatever back to this shit hole so I can go through with my initial plans."
She nodded her head, barely able to contain her excitement. I was more excited than I wanted to be. Maybe I should just be happy for myself... for once... for ever.
Edit - I'd love some feedback, I'm trying to get better (Or at least less bad). | "Your favorite... What?" I ask.
I'm a writer and this small, blonde lady isn't intimidating. At best she's good material and at worst she's just interrupted my Sunday afternoon bourbon drinking.
"Character," she says, quietly. Nervously.
"Okay," I say, smiling congenially. She's wearing a tank top and cutoffs, she's not carrying... Though I wonder how she made it past the gate guards.
She thrusts a handful of yellowed pages into my hand. Tears stripe down her perfectly powdered cheeks. She turns and jogs away down my winding drive.
I have a weird sense of deja vue.
I glance down at the pages.
"This time, read them!" the tear stained, hand written scrawl across the top of the first page says.
Against my better judgement, I do.
I walk down the lane, through the cool dark shade of 2 dozen cedars. She stands there, her back to me.
"You'll love me?" she asks.
"I'll try to, " I say.
Her breath hitches.
"I hope so," she says.
She is th the happy ending I've avoided for so long. | |
[WP] Your door bell rings. It's a person from an alternate universe, who says, "I just want you to know that you are my favorite book character and I know how it ends and I want to help change it" | "What?" I asked.
The young tanned boy with long black hair nodded, "Yup. I come from Sector 521. It's in a parallel universe a few atomic seconds ahead of yours. You humans haven't discovered much about that stuff yet though," he closed his eyes and smiled.
I looked around outside: it began snowing a few days prior and hadn't let up. My parents were away for the weekend with my younger brother and sister. I had school and had to stay home. Minding your business is difficult when things like this happen. The kid had on what looked like white spandex, and wore a giant white coat. He had no shoes on, but that didn't seem to bother him too much.
I had a glass of red in my hand and decided to take a generous gulp. "Listen kid, it's cold outside. Why don't you go on home," I tried to be mean about it. He didn't seem to notice or care.
"Nope! I'm not going home until you let me help you. I know how it all ends, and I have the power to stop it!" He held up a small light blue watch. It blinked rapidly. It seemed to be as excited as he was.
I took another couple gulps, "You say you're from another universe..."
The boy nodded.
"And that I'm your favorite character in your favorite novel... that exists inside of *only* your universe..." I said trying to make sure I heard it right.
"Yup! I can't let you die! Not if I can stop it!" He bounced up a little when he said it.
I sighed and looked up at the still, white sky. With the door still open, I sat down on its ledge and motioned for the boy to sit. He looked at me quizzically and obliged.
I finished my glass of wine and set it down inside behind me. I crossed my hands and looked out into the cold, still world. The boy seemed momentarily confused and then looked out as well.
"You know what I like most about the snow?" I asked through a now-foggy pair of glasses.
"Page 287, chapter 10: It's like time itself is as frozen as the world around me," said the boy with an upbeat tone.
I grunted and smiled, "Yes."
The boy and I stared out at the falling snow for quite a while. There was no wind in the trees. It wasn't bitterly cold; only just enough for the wonderland and hot steamy breaths to ensue. I didn't say a word, and simply looked. The boy looked at me, hoping I would say something. Finally, after a few moments his face dropped and his expression became grim.
"You won't let me help you, will you?" He asked on the verge of tears.
I took off my glasses and rubbed away the fog with the cuff of my long sleeve shirt, "No. No I will not," I said after putting them back on.
"Why?" He asked. His blue eyes reflected the world around us, and in them I saw the hope of child beginning to fade away.
I would've gone back to saying nothing; that's just how I am. I decided against that thought, "Because nothing in this, or any universe, is permanent. You being here now has greatly affected the way that my future will eventually play out. I expect that when you return to your world, that it will be much the same. You must understand this, " I said to him, already saying more to him than I did to any other person in the past couple weeks.
He looked down to the ground and his hair sagged with him, "I know," he said. The watch on his wrist seemed to reflect his moods. I said nothing for a moment.
"I want you to have something," I said. The boy looked at me with an odd expression. I took off the necklace I was wearing: it was a simple thin rope that held a yin-yang symbol in the shape of a gear. I handed it to him and he gently held it in both his hands. He wordlessly put it around his neck and stood. I watched him with a growing sense of sadness. He descended the three steps and paused on my walkway. He turned and looked at me for the last time. A tear rolled down his cheek, "It doesn't have to end like this," he said.
I stared at him harshly, "Yes it does. We live in an uncertain universe. We think we have the answers to every question, yet every question we answer only produces more questions. We can hope that we we'll be ready for what is to come, yet we'll always forever be in the dark," I said.
The boy seemed to get frightened. I continued, "Just Remember: All Eventually Fades. As long as you remember that nothing is forever, you can live your life happily, free of the veil and chains. Do not fear my friend," I said. I stood up slowly. The boy watched my every move.
"The snow..." I said closing my eyes and smiling, "it takes my imagination to another universe." Just then, a blood vessel in my right temple popped. My head jittered back and I fell forward. Darkness flooded my vision, and the world ceased to be. | "Your favorite... What?" I ask.
I'm a writer and this small, blonde lady isn't intimidating. At best she's good material and at worst she's just interrupted my Sunday afternoon bourbon drinking.
"Character," she says, quietly. Nervously.
"Okay," I say, smiling congenially. She's wearing a tank top and cutoffs, she's not carrying... Though I wonder how she made it past the gate guards.
She thrusts a handful of yellowed pages into my hand. Tears stripe down her perfectly powdered cheeks. She turns and jogs away down my winding drive.
I have a weird sense of deja vue.
I glance down at the pages.
"This time, read them!" the tear stained, hand written scrawl across the top of the first page says.
Against my better judgement, I do.
I walk down the lane, through the cool dark shade of 2 dozen cedars. She stands there, her back to me.
"You'll love me?" she asks.
"I'll try to, " I say.
Her breath hitches.
"I hope so," she says.
She is th the happy ending I've avoided for so long. | |
[WP] Your door bell rings. It's a person from an alternate universe, who says, "I just want you to know that you are my favorite book character and I know how it ends and I want to help change it" | (From the door-ringer's perspective.)
I stood in front of the dilapidated brick house, double checking the address. Even though I knew what I was looking for, it had been unnaturally difficult to find. I probably passed it numerous times without noticing. The bell didn't seem to make any sound so I slapped the solid wood door for good measure.
The door opened just enough that he could barricade the gap with his body. Every line of his face was harsh and unwelcoming as he glared at his guest. I imagined I only had a few seconds before he would slam the door shut.
"Professor Snape, I need to speak to you. I know about the horcruxes and deathly hallows and the prophesy---"
I was invited in with a forceful yank. The door slammed shut behind me and *muffliato* as well as a few other spell I couldn't catch but were probably wards were cast. When he turned back to face me his expression was somehow more hostile than before.
"Who are you," he demanded, "why are you here?"
"I'm a muggle but from an alternate world about 16 or 17 years ahead of you. There is no magic in my world but we have a book, a children's story, about your world up to around the fall of Voldemort. Sorry," I apologize when he hissed at the name. "I know how it ends and I want to help change it because you die before Vol-uh-you-know-who is defeated. You're my favorite character. I want you to live, you deserve to live and be recognized for all you did for the Wizarding World. I know this must sound hard to believe, but you're a legilimens. You know I'm not lying but I can also take Veritaserum."
He made a dismissive gesture so I continued with my retelling of the last book focusing on the battle of Hogwarts, the events leading up to his death by Nagini in the Shrieking Shack, his memories, ownership of the Elder wand, the destruction of the Horcruxes, Voldemort's demise, and how Harry survived death. Snape occasionally made a sniping comment or asked for clarification but otherwise said little through the long explanation. I tried to cram in every important and unimportant detail I could recall.
Then he grilled me on events that had already come to pass in this world to test the accuracy of my information. Everything matched up and in some cases I was able to fill in some gaps in his knowledge.
"And the Dark Lord truly dies?" He asked finally.
"Yes, for good. Never to return. Stuck in Limbo forever because he tore his soul apart." I assured. And then remembering the purpose of my trip. "You must remember not to go to the Shrieking Shack."
He looked thoughtful so I continued.
"You-know-who believes you are master of the Elder Wand. Nagini will bite you." I reminded him so he wouldn't forget. Even if he forgot everything else, he had to remember this.
"And yet this might be the best chance for the Wizarding World if what you say is true."
"I -- what?!" I yelped in shock. "No! You can't mean --- You. You will die!" I stammered, my voice rising so he might better understand.
"I had not be able to come up with a way to speak to the Potter boy and make him trust me but this he will believe. He will believe the memories. But no spell exists, as far as I know, to make memories exude from your eyes and nose and ears. Was that not explained in the book?" He asked, but when I proved speechless he continued on.
"Perhaps a potion to bind memory to bodily fluid. That could explain why these memories were silver-blue and neither liquid nor gas, opposed to the typical silver hair like whisps. A potion mixed with legilimency technique and wandless magic, it will take time to develop. And I must make the sword of Griffindor avaliable to Mr. Longbottom before I am ousted from Hogwarts, as you put it."
"So you are going to your death. Knowlingly. That's Harry Potter's job. Stupid and reckless. I didnt know you were so Griffindor, valuing mindless courage over cunning. Where's your Slytherin resourcefulness and sense of self-preservation."
"No, it would be stupid and reckless to not use your information and let this chance escape. You've provided answers to many unsolved problems and shown us a single way to permanently rid ourselves of the Dark Lord. It is a narrow path but it is guarenteed. As knowledgeable as you may be, even you cannot know what will happen if we deviate from this course. I survived so long on my determination to see the Dark Lord fall, and had enough cunning and resourcefulness to play the faithful servant while doing so. I will not see my efforts fail. I will make the necessary preparations. I thank you for your information."
"But you will not see him fall, you will be dead." I tried one last time.
"I may not survive the battle but until that day I will live and prepare my victory. And I will die knowing and that is enough."
(Well I might have gotten a bit lost at the end but too tired to fix it) | "Your favorite... What?" I ask.
I'm a writer and this small, blonde lady isn't intimidating. At best she's good material and at worst she's just interrupted my Sunday afternoon bourbon drinking.
"Character," she says, quietly. Nervously.
"Okay," I say, smiling congenially. She's wearing a tank top and cutoffs, she's not carrying... Though I wonder how she made it past the gate guards.
She thrusts a handful of yellowed pages into my hand. Tears stripe down her perfectly powdered cheeks. She turns and jogs away down my winding drive.
I have a weird sense of deja vue.
I glance down at the pages.
"This time, read them!" the tear stained, hand written scrawl across the top of the first page says.
Against my better judgement, I do.
I walk down the lane, through the cool dark shade of 2 dozen cedars. She stands there, her back to me.
"You'll love me?" she asks.
"I'll try to, " I say.
Her breath hitches.
"I hope so," she says.
She is th the happy ending I've avoided for so long. | |
[WP] Your door bell rings. It's a person from an alternate universe, who says, "I just want you to know that you are my favorite book character and I know how it ends and I want to help change it" | "What?" I asked.
The young tanned boy with long black hair nodded, "Yup. I come from Sector 521. It's in a parallel universe a few atomic seconds ahead of yours. You humans haven't discovered much about that stuff yet though," he closed his eyes and smiled.
I looked around outside: it began snowing a few days prior and hadn't let up. My parents were away for the weekend with my younger brother and sister. I had school and had to stay home. Minding your business is difficult when things like this happen. The kid had on what looked like white spandex, and wore a giant white coat. He had no shoes on, but that didn't seem to bother him too much.
I had a glass of red in my hand and decided to take a generous gulp. "Listen kid, it's cold outside. Why don't you go on home," I tried to be mean about it. He didn't seem to notice or care.
"Nope! I'm not going home until you let me help you. I know how it all ends, and I have the power to stop it!" He held up a small light blue watch. It blinked rapidly. It seemed to be as excited as he was.
I took another couple gulps, "You say you're from another universe..."
The boy nodded.
"And that I'm your favorite character in your favorite novel... that exists inside of *only* your universe..." I said trying to make sure I heard it right.
"Yup! I can't let you die! Not if I can stop it!" He bounced up a little when he said it.
I sighed and looked up at the still, white sky. With the door still open, I sat down on its ledge and motioned for the boy to sit. He looked at me quizzically and obliged.
I finished my glass of wine and set it down inside behind me. I crossed my hands and looked out into the cold, still world. The boy seemed momentarily confused and then looked out as well.
"You know what I like most about the snow?" I asked through a now-foggy pair of glasses.
"Page 287, chapter 10: It's like time itself is as frozen as the world around me," said the boy with an upbeat tone.
I grunted and smiled, "Yes."
The boy and I stared out at the falling snow for quite a while. There was no wind in the trees. It wasn't bitterly cold; only just enough for the wonderland and hot steamy breaths to ensue. I didn't say a word, and simply looked. The boy looked at me, hoping I would say something. Finally, after a few moments his face dropped and his expression became grim.
"You won't let me help you, will you?" He asked on the verge of tears.
I took off my glasses and rubbed away the fog with the cuff of my long sleeve shirt, "No. No I will not," I said after putting them back on.
"Why?" He asked. His blue eyes reflected the world around us, and in them I saw the hope of child beginning to fade away.
I would've gone back to saying nothing; that's just how I am. I decided against that thought, "Because nothing in this, or any universe, is permanent. You being here now has greatly affected the way that my future will eventually play out. I expect that when you return to your world, that it will be much the same. You must understand this, " I said to him, already saying more to him than I did to any other person in the past couple weeks.
He looked down to the ground and his hair sagged with him, "I know," he said. The watch on his wrist seemed to reflect his moods. I said nothing for a moment.
"I want you to have something," I said. The boy looked at me with an odd expression. I took off the necklace I was wearing: it was a simple thin rope that held a yin-yang symbol in the shape of a gear. I handed it to him and he gently held it in both his hands. He wordlessly put it around his neck and stood. I watched him with a growing sense of sadness. He descended the three steps and paused on my walkway. He turned and looked at me for the last time. A tear rolled down his cheek, "It doesn't have to end like this," he said.
I stared at him harshly, "Yes it does. We live in an uncertain universe. We think we have the answers to every question, yet every question we answer only produces more questions. We can hope that we we'll be ready for what is to come, yet we'll always forever be in the dark," I said.
The boy seemed to get frightened. I continued, "Just Remember: All Eventually Fades. As long as you remember that nothing is forever, you can live your life happily, free of the veil and chains. Do not fear my friend," I said. I stood up slowly. The boy watched my every move.
"The snow..." I said closing my eyes and smiling, "it takes my imagination to another universe." Just then, a blood vessel in my right temple popped. My head jittered back and I fell forward. Darkness flooded my vision, and the world ceased to be. | "Come again?"
"I said, I just want you to know that you're my fav-"
"Yeah, I meant explain it, not repeat it."
She looked at me like I had just made her day. usually the people I shut down or yell at don't react like that, but she was practically giddy.
"You're just like the books. Snarky, clever, and meeeean!" I wasn't fond of people gushing, but I wondered if I was supposed to be complimented by that.
"Come on, out with it or I'm going to close the door and go back to jacking it."
Somehow she was unfazed by that, maybe she did know me. "Well look, you see, in my universe, you're a fictional character, people read books starring... well... You."
"And... I'm popular?"
"Tremendously so, you're amazing! People love you! You're a best seller!"
"That's completely ridiculous. On this world, or any other world, the idea that I would end up as a beloved character is completely ridiculous. Please find whatever medication you're supposed to be taking, take twice that amount, and then check yourself back into whatever mental hospital you escaped from."
Again she looked delighted, it was like there was no mean thing I could say to this girl that would turn her away, I even briefly contemplated being nice just to try something different, but I don't think my heart could take it. I started to close the door as she shoved herself between the door and the frame.
"WAIT, Seriously! You have to listen to me. This is life and death here, super important stuff. Please please please just listen to me and then you can throw me out or call the cops or whatever."
"Look, I'm going to let you say whatever ridiculous bullshit you came here to say, if for no other reason than I don't really want any of your blood on my door." Then again, she was a cutie. A crazy cutie of course, but she had bad taste, something that worked innately in my favor.
"Ok, on my Earth, our time is slightly ahead of yours, so I've already read your latest novel, which happens about a week from now. You're very lucky I went to the midnight release for it because otherwise I wouldn't have finished it fast enough to make it here in time. I even got the author to sign a copy and she's notoriously reclusive so it was -"
"Just get to the point."
"Ok. Look, you die at the end. You die and I don't want you to."
I closed my eyes and shook my head slowly. "Who sent you, really?"
"I'm serious... You know what you're going to do already, I just want you to rethink it. You matter, you matter so much more than you know. You... You matter to me."
"And you think to tell me this now? It's good to know that I manage to kill myself though, I'd been losing sleep over whether or not I'd manage to do it in one shot, or I'd lay on the floor, writhing in pain as I lamented missing my brain at close range."
Tears began to well up in her eyes. I'd never done well with girls who cried. Or really people who cried. Or even people in general. It was weird to frame it like that, but there was no spectrum of human emotion that I was particularly comfortable with, and this girl had spent the better part of a half an hour displaying all of them. Maybe that's why I found her revolting and interesting in the same breath.
"You can't talk that way. You're my absolute favorite, like I said, everyone loves you..."
"I'm not living my life for anyone else, I'm not staying alive just so you and your perverted voyeurs can get your jollies off at my expense. And if I hadn't already decided to dispose of myself, the first thing I'd do was go find that author of yours and get some long overdue residuals. If I'm that famous I'm sure there's a movie deal out there that I'm getting fucked over."
The tears were starting to fall rather freely from her cheeks, and before I realized it, they were falling from mine too. It hurt to talk like this all the time, it hurt to be me sometimes... most of the time... probably all of the time really.
"Maybe I'm a celebrity over there, but I'm not shit here, I don't mean a god damn over here. I'm a nobody, a very unhappy, misanthropic nobody."
"So... come back with me."
"It... works like that?"
"I mean I got here didn't I? Yeah I can take you back with me. I'm not supposed to really, there are some rules attached to it, but my friends are going to be soooo jealous, I mean come on, I get to meet you AND save your life? It's like amazing. And I mean... You deserve a chance to be happy."
"I always figured I deserved a lot of things I wasn't going to get."
"Well, now It's up to you."
"Fuck."
I sighed, opened up the door the rest of the way and just left it hanging open now, I didn't care who came in anymore.
"So that means...?"
"Come in, take a seat, grab a soda or something. I'm going to pack a bag or two. And If I don't like this new dimension, I'm getting that bastard author of yours to write me a fat check and I'm catching the first whatever back to this shit hole so I can go through with my initial plans."
She nodded her head, barely able to contain her excitement. I was more excited than I wanted to be. Maybe I should just be happy for myself... for once... for ever.
Edit - I'd love some feedback, I'm trying to get better (Or at least less bad). | |
[WP] Your door bell rings. It's a person from an alternate universe, who says, "I just want you to know that you are my favorite book character and I know how it ends and I want to help change it" | (From the door-ringer's perspective.)
I stood in front of the dilapidated brick house, double checking the address. Even though I knew what I was looking for, it had been unnaturally difficult to find. I probably passed it numerous times without noticing. The bell didn't seem to make any sound so I slapped the solid wood door for good measure.
The door opened just enough that he could barricade the gap with his body. Every line of his face was harsh and unwelcoming as he glared at his guest. I imagined I only had a few seconds before he would slam the door shut.
"Professor Snape, I need to speak to you. I know about the horcruxes and deathly hallows and the prophesy---"
I was invited in with a forceful yank. The door slammed shut behind me and *muffliato* as well as a few other spell I couldn't catch but were probably wards were cast. When he turned back to face me his expression was somehow more hostile than before.
"Who are you," he demanded, "why are you here?"
"I'm a muggle but from an alternate world about 16 or 17 years ahead of you. There is no magic in my world but we have a book, a children's story, about your world up to around the fall of Voldemort. Sorry," I apologize when he hissed at the name. "I know how it ends and I want to help change it because you die before Vol-uh-you-know-who is defeated. You're my favorite character. I want you to live, you deserve to live and be recognized for all you did for the Wizarding World. I know this must sound hard to believe, but you're a legilimens. You know I'm not lying but I can also take Veritaserum."
He made a dismissive gesture so I continued with my retelling of the last book focusing on the battle of Hogwarts, the events leading up to his death by Nagini in the Shrieking Shack, his memories, ownership of the Elder wand, the destruction of the Horcruxes, Voldemort's demise, and how Harry survived death. Snape occasionally made a sniping comment or asked for clarification but otherwise said little through the long explanation. I tried to cram in every important and unimportant detail I could recall.
Then he grilled me on events that had already come to pass in this world to test the accuracy of my information. Everything matched up and in some cases I was able to fill in some gaps in his knowledge.
"And the Dark Lord truly dies?" He asked finally.
"Yes, for good. Never to return. Stuck in Limbo forever because he tore his soul apart." I assured. And then remembering the purpose of my trip. "You must remember not to go to the Shrieking Shack."
He looked thoughtful so I continued.
"You-know-who believes you are master of the Elder Wand. Nagini will bite you." I reminded him so he wouldn't forget. Even if he forgot everything else, he had to remember this.
"And yet this might be the best chance for the Wizarding World if what you say is true."
"I -- what?!" I yelped in shock. "No! You can't mean --- You. You will die!" I stammered, my voice rising so he might better understand.
"I had not be able to come up with a way to speak to the Potter boy and make him trust me but this he will believe. He will believe the memories. But no spell exists, as far as I know, to make memories exude from your eyes and nose and ears. Was that not explained in the book?" He asked, but when I proved speechless he continued on.
"Perhaps a potion to bind memory to bodily fluid. That could explain why these memories were silver-blue and neither liquid nor gas, opposed to the typical silver hair like whisps. A potion mixed with legilimency technique and wandless magic, it will take time to develop. And I must make the sword of Griffindor avaliable to Mr. Longbottom before I am ousted from Hogwarts, as you put it."
"So you are going to your death. Knowlingly. That's Harry Potter's job. Stupid and reckless. I didnt know you were so Griffindor, valuing mindless courage over cunning. Where's your Slytherin resourcefulness and sense of self-preservation."
"No, it would be stupid and reckless to not use your information and let this chance escape. You've provided answers to many unsolved problems and shown us a single way to permanently rid ourselves of the Dark Lord. It is a narrow path but it is guarenteed. As knowledgeable as you may be, even you cannot know what will happen if we deviate from this course. I survived so long on my determination to see the Dark Lord fall, and had enough cunning and resourcefulness to play the faithful servant while doing so. I will not see my efforts fail. I will make the necessary preparations. I thank you for your information."
"But you will not see him fall, you will be dead." I tried one last time.
"I may not survive the battle but until that day I will live and prepare my victory. And I will die knowing and that is enough."
(Well I might have gotten a bit lost at the end but too tired to fix it) | I stare confused. The kid gives me his best "I'm serious, but crazy psyched to be here, but totally serious" face. I think, 'whatever', how this last week has been- shit can't get any more weird. I look the kid up and down. Make sure he knows what he's in for. He seems legit. I guess. Hell, he could have been a figment of my imagination, doesn't matter much now.
A deep "Thump" shakes the world. He looks all around. I've grown use to them.
"So you want in?"
He shakes his head enthusiastically, trying his best to hold back a "HOLY FUCKING SHIT" smile.
"Alright". I hold out my fist. He gets his game face on; throws his fist out. --EPIC BRO-FIST-- I slide the sunglasses out of my pocket and onto my nose thingy.
Again, from the outside world. "THUMP"
"Let's light... wait" I step back in to my apartment. A few clicks of my mouse and I'm heading to the door. As I step out I take a second to face the kid. The Who, "We Won't Get Fooled Again" blares in the background.
"Alright, let's light this bitch up". Sunglasses on as Roger Daltery belts out "YEEEEAAAA!" Slam the door, fuck the lock, fuck the music- it's go time. We head out the fake spanish courtyard and to the parking lot.
Diagonally parked across 3 spaces is a black slightly used 68 Dodge Charger B Body with the coveted R/T logo. It's got a few dents and scrapes, but like Han says about the Falcon, it gives it character. I fling the door drivers door open and fall into the seat like I'm being cached by my guardian angel. The kid has to put his weight into the passenger's side door to get it open. He slides into the black vinyl seat. Again, he has to muscle the door closed.
"They're a bit heavier than today. The is a relic from a by gone era". I start to turn the key. "A time of steel-" ignition- gas- it roars muscle thunder "- and fire"
"So you know the game plan, right?"
"You don't have a game plan" he screams over the 426 Hemi.
I give him a crooked smile and nod. The kid's done his homework.
Clutch, first gear, gas and were screaming down the highway. It doesn't take long. Over the first slight crest in the landscape and we see it. 40 stories of iron hell, The Mechasaur. A solid iron clockwork, steam-punk tyrannosaurs tearing a path of devastation though, The Town. Ear shattering screams split the air as fire shoots from it's eyes and a locomotive size chainsaw whip lashes from its gaping maw. Explosions leap off it's iron hide. The scoured and dented juggernaut lumbers on.
I start running some game plans though my head. The road will take us right to it. Though destruction erupts all around us we have a clean shot to the base of the beast.
"Okay, kid. Here's my plan"
'Click', a pinch on my wrist. I look down. A hand cuff, what the fuck! At this moment I loose that precious barrier between me and my inner monolog.
"What the fuck" to confused to do anything else I stare at the kid with equal parts astonishment and disappointment.
He's trying to get a lot out in a short time, he talks quickly. "Sorry, I never liked how the story ended."
"HOW THE FUCK IS THIS BETTER?"
"Look, you live, alright, you defeat the Mechasur. But you take the fall for everything that's happened. The Chaos Portals, the interdimensional alien invasions, all of it. You become the fall guy for everything. But you are suppose to be the hero"
I'm scrambling to comprehend, "What, like in Ghostbusters 2"
A gentle hand rest on my shoulder and he says with the most honest pity a true humanitarian could summon, "Yes, just like in Ghostbusters 2".
I look back at the road. A 160 mile per hour Mechasaur foot begins to take up the entire windshield.
"Click"..."thump" The kid just bailed out of car. The door bounces to close in the wind but won't latch.
"Well, Fuck me". Denial sets in.
"WHAT!? No, no no! This can't be right. I can't die. I mean two days ago the ghost of Neil Armstrong helped me steal an Apache Attack Helicopter from Area 51. Together we shot down the Illuminati Zeppelin before they could activate the Omega Crystal. I just translated the Atlantis Hyper-fusion codex yesterday. I haven't even time traveled yet, not event once. I don't know if the fucking thing even works! GOD DAMNIT! And now, some punk ass kid is going to hand cuff me to the steering wheel of my fucking dream car. This is Bull-shit. This is fucking bu-" BAM!
The pinnacle of American automobile design known as the Charger B Body disintegrates as it slams into the clanging ankle of the Mechasaur. I don't know what happened next. But some how know that in the end, I die a hero. Thanks kid.
Edit: no time to proof read worth a shit
| |
[WP] Your door bell rings. It's a person from an alternate universe, who says, "I just want you to know that you are my favorite book character and I know how it ends and I want to help change it" | Losing a family member is never easy.
It is easier, however, when your Great Aunt Ruth who you only met when you were two years old passes away in her sleep from natural causes in her home in Wisconsin. Death is death, but some kinds are better than others.
I never had a Great Aunt Ruth. Sometimes I pretend I did, though. It's a lot easier that way, to forget about my mother and think of an imaginary old lady dying peacefully in her sleep.
Murder is too harsh a reality for a five year old. When dad suddenly comes to get you from school every day like mom used to, things are different...but nothing is really wrong if you don't know the truth. They always say ignorance is bliss, and so it is - at least until the veil of ignorance falls away. Age does that, you know. Innocence can be bliss, too, and it lasts until a certain age where you start thinking enough on your own to figure things out.
It was my twelfth birthday. I had spent the morning wishing my mom could be there instead of off traveling like she had been for so many of my birthdays before, and then it suddenly clicked. She was gone, and she was never coming back.
I lost it. I screamed, I threw things, I tried to hold my breath until I passed out. I wanted to die, too, then maybe things would be even.
When my dad walked in the door that afternoon, I was ready to attack him physically and emotionally. I was hurt and disillusioned, and nothing he could say would fix that.
But when he walked in the door, something was off. He knew I had figured it all out, and I knew that he knew. He slumped into the chair right across from me and just stared at me. I still remember the look he gave me - hollow and emotionless, the look of someone who had nothing left inside of him.
"Luke, your sister.." His words were barely words, a guttural moan that sounded like death itself. "My only daughter." He paused, forgetting I was even in the room with him as he folded into himself.
"There was an accident...drunk driver...car rolled...Oh, God."
I can't remember any other time in my life that I saw my dad cry. I wanted to comfort him, but I had nothing to say. I just sat there, motionless.
It was my eighteenth birthday. I wasn't surprised to hear he'd done it. That didn't keep the hurt away, but I knew my dad was only ever hanging on by a thread after my sister's death. At least he'd had the grace to wait until I was an adult. Kept me out of foster care, which I should be thankful for.
I'm not, though. Hearing the last of your family members blew his brains out in the middle of a crowded subway station will do that to you.
And so here I sit, writing this with my right hand as I hold my dad's prescription anti-depressant bottle in my left - still full from years earlier. Probably enough to take down an elephant, and it's not like I was ever a big guy anyway. So here goes - goodbye, world.
*The doorbell rings.*
*Luke looks up, thinks for a second, and lets the bottle of pills fall to the floor. Still clutching his pen, he walks to the front door and swings it open tentatively to find a stranger standing on the porch.*
*"Luke - I just want you to know that you are my favorite book character. I know how it ends, and I want to help change it."* | Waking up in the afternoon, I set about preparing for my next night shift. Cooking a late lunch, cleaning the house, reading the news. Everyday mundane stuff. Funny how my life has been a complete routine ever since I graduated with a degree years ago. As a child I always wanted to travel to Africa to see its wildlife. Stop the poaching of the white rhinos. Watch the cheetahs skim over the plains. All of that, gone, as the cold truth of reality crashed down upon my childish dreams.
4.50pm. Time to head out to work. Opening the door, I found a wide-eyed child right outside, gazing at me.
"Holy faeries it IS you! You're the Guide of a Roadless Path!"
Logic completely eluded me, as I stared back at him in confusion. "...what?"
"You're the hero that brought King Pate out when he was lost in the Forest of Fallen Giants! That volume was completely awesome! Oh!Oh! You also led the Warden to Lady Emma of the Brecilian Wastelands! And lest I forget, the chapter where you-"
Still confused, I looked around for anything out of the ordinary. This child was rambling on and on about mythical heroes and adventures. Placing a finger on his lip, I looked at him in the eye. "Ok kid, you've completely lost me now. Look at me, standard blues? Department Crest? Clearly not a person to lead kings around in wastelands. You've clearly got the wrong person. Now if you'll excuse me."
Motioning him to move aside, I stepped out of my house and began to lock the door. If there were any camera crew filming this down for some "only for gags" show, I'm having none of it. The child mumbled to himself, looking crestfallen.
"I just want you to know that you're my favorite book character and I know how it ends and I want to help change it! You can't be happy with such a bland ending can you?"
I sighed. "Look kid, you may have time to role-play anytime. But don't bring adults into the mix yeah? We have work to do, and that's important. Go back home; I'm sure your mother has a nice warm cup of chocolate waiting for you."
He stood there, dumbfounded, as I walked to my car. After all, work's more important right? | |
[WP] Your door bell rings. It's a person from an alternate universe, who says, "I just want you to know that you are my favorite book character and I know how it ends and I want to help change it" | I'm pretty sure I didn't order anything. I'm not expecting guests either. I suppose it's for someone else. Now a knock on the door.
"Someone weird's at the door for you." My flat mate tells me, walking away. Well, that's a little unexpected. I pause my show and roll out of bed. Maybe I should get out of my pajamas, but... who am I kidding, that requires far too much effort.
"Oh my God! It's you!" He gasps, apparently lacking for breath. His long hair covers his eyes, so I only see the grin on his face.
"...Yes?" I say, obviously confused. I'm me. That seems self-evident.
"Welll... How do I say this. I just want you to know that you are my favorite book character and I know how it ends and I want to help change it."
I smirk. Someone must be high.
"What?" I stutter. He must have the wrong guy, but that feels too cliche to say.
"No, it's true! You were just thinking how I'm the wrong guy. Then you slam the door and go upstairs after making an excuse. And write about it online."
Alright, if you insist.
His foot blocks the way.
"But that's what I need to change." The door flings open, throwing me back onto the stairs. "I'm sorry! Oh, this is exciting, I don't know what's going to happen now. You were going to... well, spoilers. I know how you hate them, even if they aren't going to happen! Suffice to say, now I've broken in... you're safe!"
I hit my head on the stairs on the way down, so couldn't really think of what the hell to do. I could hope someone would come and save me, but most situations don't solve themselves.
"You see... this is the end of the book. It's a bit complicated, but I read about you. My book exists in your world too, even if you haven't read it just yet. But I really don't want yours to end...and so long as things keep happening the book can't end right?" He smiles. It widens into a sneer. His eyes go wide. I start to stand up, but he doesn't like that. He pulls out a gun and points it at me.
"Oh wow, you're scared! Usually you shrug it all off. Nothing gets to you. This is exciting!" Like hell it is. This guys gone crazy. I can hear the unsteady rhythm of my heart. If life had a climax, this would be it. I try to shout but he rushes forward and covers my mouth.
"Don't get anyone else involved! Your at you're best when it's just you and your thoughts, really. I wouldn't want to waste my time reading about anyone else, having Dave answer the door was bad enough!" He drags my hair, forcing me out of the house. I'm tossed aside and my ass meets the mud. I look at him. I stare down the gun's barrel. He lunges at me. I lift my arms. If I can just pry the gun away I might stand a chance.
I've got the gun. But so does he. We wrestle for control. If it fires now it won't hit me. I have the gun facing him. The trigger is missing. His head presses against the barrel. He screams.
"Ooh, it's a shame I can't read this... what a plot twist this'll be."
The gun fires. He shot it. Blood splats over my face. A window breaks. I hear a high pitched buzzing. It's the fire alarm. The dead lunatic's body falls backwards. He was wearing gloves. And I have his gun. And I shot him.
I've got to run. | Waking up in the afternoon, I set about preparing for my next night shift. Cooking a late lunch, cleaning the house, reading the news. Everyday mundane stuff. Funny how my life has been a complete routine ever since I graduated with a degree years ago. As a child I always wanted to travel to Africa to see its wildlife. Stop the poaching of the white rhinos. Watch the cheetahs skim over the plains. All of that, gone, as the cold truth of reality crashed down upon my childish dreams.
4.50pm. Time to head out to work. Opening the door, I found a wide-eyed child right outside, gazing at me.
"Holy faeries it IS you! You're the Guide of a Roadless Path!"
Logic completely eluded me, as I stared back at him in confusion. "...what?"
"You're the hero that brought King Pate out when he was lost in the Forest of Fallen Giants! That volume was completely awesome! Oh!Oh! You also led the Warden to Lady Emma of the Brecilian Wastelands! And lest I forget, the chapter where you-"
Still confused, I looked around for anything out of the ordinary. This child was rambling on and on about mythical heroes and adventures. Placing a finger on his lip, I looked at him in the eye. "Ok kid, you've completely lost me now. Look at me, standard blues? Department Crest? Clearly not a person to lead kings around in wastelands. You've clearly got the wrong person. Now if you'll excuse me."
Motioning him to move aside, I stepped out of my house and began to lock the door. If there were any camera crew filming this down for some "only for gags" show, I'm having none of it. The child mumbled to himself, looking crestfallen.
"I just want you to know that you're my favorite book character and I know how it ends and I want to help change it! You can't be happy with such a bland ending can you?"
I sighed. "Look kid, you may have time to role-play anytime. But don't bring adults into the mix yeah? We have work to do, and that's important. Go back home; I'm sure your mother has a nice warm cup of chocolate waiting for you."
He stood there, dumbfounded, as I walked to my car. After all, work's more important right? | |
[WP] Your door bell rings. It's a person from an alternate universe, who says, "I just want you to know that you are my favorite book character and I know how it ends and I want to help change it" | Losing a family member is never easy.
It is easier, however, when your Great Aunt Ruth who you only met when you were two years old passes away in her sleep from natural causes in her home in Wisconsin. Death is death, but some kinds are better than others.
I never had a Great Aunt Ruth. Sometimes I pretend I did, though. It's a lot easier that way, to forget about my mother and think of an imaginary old lady dying peacefully in her sleep.
Murder is too harsh a reality for a five year old. When dad suddenly comes to get you from school every day like mom used to, things are different...but nothing is really wrong if you don't know the truth. They always say ignorance is bliss, and so it is - at least until the veil of ignorance falls away. Age does that, you know. Innocence can be bliss, too, and it lasts until a certain age where you start thinking enough on your own to figure things out.
It was my twelfth birthday. I had spent the morning wishing my mom could be there instead of off traveling like she had been for so many of my birthdays before, and then it suddenly clicked. She was gone, and she was never coming back.
I lost it. I screamed, I threw things, I tried to hold my breath until I passed out. I wanted to die, too, then maybe things would be even.
When my dad walked in the door that afternoon, I was ready to attack him physically and emotionally. I was hurt and disillusioned, and nothing he could say would fix that.
But when he walked in the door, something was off. He knew I had figured it all out, and I knew that he knew. He slumped into the chair right across from me and just stared at me. I still remember the look he gave me - hollow and emotionless, the look of someone who had nothing left inside of him.
"Luke, your sister.." His words were barely words, a guttural moan that sounded like death itself. "My only daughter." He paused, forgetting I was even in the room with him as he folded into himself.
"There was an accident...drunk driver...car rolled...Oh, God."
I can't remember any other time in my life that I saw my dad cry. I wanted to comfort him, but I had nothing to say. I just sat there, motionless.
It was my eighteenth birthday. I wasn't surprised to hear he'd done it. That didn't keep the hurt away, but I knew my dad was only ever hanging on by a thread after my sister's death. At least he'd had the grace to wait until I was an adult. Kept me out of foster care, which I should be thankful for.
I'm not, though. Hearing the last of your family members blew his brains out in the middle of a crowded subway station will do that to you.
And so here I sit, writing this with my right hand as I hold my dad's prescription anti-depressant bottle in my left - still full from years earlier. Probably enough to take down an elephant, and it's not like I was ever a big guy anyway. So here goes - goodbye, world.
*The doorbell rings.*
*Luke looks up, thinks for a second, and lets the bottle of pills fall to the floor. Still clutching his pen, he walks to the front door and swings it open tentatively to find a stranger standing on the porch.*
*"Luke - I just want you to know that you are my favorite book character. I know how it ends, and I want to help change it."* | "Nagini, go look from the window who wants to crash our party," I hiss in Parseltongue.
My Death Eaters shift uncomfortably in their chairs at this unexpected arrival and Nagini slithers out of the Malfoys' meeting room.
Lucius speaks up in a frightened voice, "My Lord, if I may request your permission to go check as well..." and his voice trails off.
Applying Legilimency, I realise as I had suspected that it's just plain old cowardice over whether his kid might be in danger. *We can continue without him,* I think to myself.
"Very well, Lucius. Whoever it is, bring them here this instant. We will not wait for you to resume our planning for Potter."
Lucius bows and goes out. Silence falls for a few seconds.
Nagini returns and hisses, "A Mudblood is at the gates. Malfoy is bringing him here." With that, she comes over to me, curls up and lies down beside my feet.
In another few seconds, Lucius returns with his wand pointed at a boy who must have been no older than 18.
"My Lord, this kid has the audacity to request an audience with you!"
Bellatrix furiously gets up from her chair and points her wand at him but I motion for her to sit. Reluctantly, she settles back down.
I had been studying this young man for a second and looking into his mind, I could see he wanted to say something desperately.
"Speak," I softly command him.
The boy, already quite intimidated and nervous, tries to put together some words, "My- my Lord, I'm fr-from another universe. This-this may sound... strange, but a book series has been written on you and- and that Potter kid. You're my favourite character, my Lord, and you- you-" and his voice breaks as he looks down at his feet, trembling.
"I said speak, filthy Muggle," I snarled, getting annoyed.
"My- my Lord, you... I know how it ends and it's bad for you. I- I want to help change it which is why I managed to somehow get here..."
All the Death Eaters are staring incredulously at him but only I know that he is speaking what is surely the truth for him.
*He may have some information but a Muggle-born from a Muggle world surely cannot know anything. Probably just a mudblood who got his head muddled up by some spell. It is his truth that he believes in, not necessarily the truth. And how dare he think he, a barely of age Muggle, can help the greatest wizard ever?*
I ponder over it all for another second before I motion Nagini to go get her dinner. | |
[WP] Your door bell rings. It's a person from an alternate universe, who says, "I just want you to know that you are my favorite book character and I know how it ends and I want to help change it" | I'm pretty sure I didn't order anything. I'm not expecting guests either. I suppose it's for someone else. Now a knock on the door.
"Someone weird's at the door for you." My flat mate tells me, walking away. Well, that's a little unexpected. I pause my show and roll out of bed. Maybe I should get out of my pajamas, but... who am I kidding, that requires far too much effort.
"Oh my God! It's you!" He gasps, apparently lacking for breath. His long hair covers his eyes, so I only see the grin on his face.
"...Yes?" I say, obviously confused. I'm me. That seems self-evident.
"Welll... How do I say this. I just want you to know that you are my favorite book character and I know how it ends and I want to help change it."
I smirk. Someone must be high.
"What?" I stutter. He must have the wrong guy, but that feels too cliche to say.
"No, it's true! You were just thinking how I'm the wrong guy. Then you slam the door and go upstairs after making an excuse. And write about it online."
Alright, if you insist.
His foot blocks the way.
"But that's what I need to change." The door flings open, throwing me back onto the stairs. "I'm sorry! Oh, this is exciting, I don't know what's going to happen now. You were going to... well, spoilers. I know how you hate them, even if they aren't going to happen! Suffice to say, now I've broken in... you're safe!"
I hit my head on the stairs on the way down, so couldn't really think of what the hell to do. I could hope someone would come and save me, but most situations don't solve themselves.
"You see... this is the end of the book. It's a bit complicated, but I read about you. My book exists in your world too, even if you haven't read it just yet. But I really don't want yours to end...and so long as things keep happening the book can't end right?" He smiles. It widens into a sneer. His eyes go wide. I start to stand up, but he doesn't like that. He pulls out a gun and points it at me.
"Oh wow, you're scared! Usually you shrug it all off. Nothing gets to you. This is exciting!" Like hell it is. This guys gone crazy. I can hear the unsteady rhythm of my heart. If life had a climax, this would be it. I try to shout but he rushes forward and covers my mouth.
"Don't get anyone else involved! Your at you're best when it's just you and your thoughts, really. I wouldn't want to waste my time reading about anyone else, having Dave answer the door was bad enough!" He drags my hair, forcing me out of the house. I'm tossed aside and my ass meets the mud. I look at him. I stare down the gun's barrel. He lunges at me. I lift my arms. If I can just pry the gun away I might stand a chance.
I've got the gun. But so does he. We wrestle for control. If it fires now it won't hit me. I have the gun facing him. The trigger is missing. His head presses against the barrel. He screams.
"Ooh, it's a shame I can't read this... what a plot twist this'll be."
The gun fires. He shot it. Blood splats over my face. A window breaks. I hear a high pitched buzzing. It's the fire alarm. The dead lunatic's body falls backwards. He was wearing gloves. And I have his gun. And I shot him.
I've got to run. | "Nagini, go look from the window who wants to crash our party," I hiss in Parseltongue.
My Death Eaters shift uncomfortably in their chairs at this unexpected arrival and Nagini slithers out of the Malfoys' meeting room.
Lucius speaks up in a frightened voice, "My Lord, if I may request your permission to go check as well..." and his voice trails off.
Applying Legilimency, I realise as I had suspected that it's just plain old cowardice over whether his kid might be in danger. *We can continue without him,* I think to myself.
"Very well, Lucius. Whoever it is, bring them here this instant. We will not wait for you to resume our planning for Potter."
Lucius bows and goes out. Silence falls for a few seconds.
Nagini returns and hisses, "A Mudblood is at the gates. Malfoy is bringing him here." With that, she comes over to me, curls up and lies down beside my feet.
In another few seconds, Lucius returns with his wand pointed at a boy who must have been no older than 18.
"My Lord, this kid has the audacity to request an audience with you!"
Bellatrix furiously gets up from her chair and points her wand at him but I motion for her to sit. Reluctantly, she settles back down.
I had been studying this young man for a second and looking into his mind, I could see he wanted to say something desperately.
"Speak," I softly command him.
The boy, already quite intimidated and nervous, tries to put together some words, "My- my Lord, I'm fr-from another universe. This-this may sound... strange, but a book series has been written on you and- and that Potter kid. You're my favourite character, my Lord, and you- you-" and his voice breaks as he looks down at his feet, trembling.
"I said speak, filthy Muggle," I snarled, getting annoyed.
"My- my Lord, you... I know how it ends and it's bad for you. I- I want to help change it which is why I managed to somehow get here..."
All the Death Eaters are staring incredulously at him but only I know that he is speaking what is surely the truth for him.
*He may have some information but a Muggle-born from a Muggle world surely cannot know anything. Probably just a mudblood who got his head muddled up by some spell. It is his truth that he believes in, not necessarily the truth. And how dare he think he, a barely of age Muggle, can help the greatest wizard ever?*
I ponder over it all for another second before I motion Nagini to go get her dinner. | |
[WP] Your door bell rings. It's a person from an alternate universe, who says, "I just want you to know that you are my favorite book character and I know how it ends and I want to help change it" | I'm pretty sure I didn't order anything. I'm not expecting guests either. I suppose it's for someone else. Now a knock on the door.
"Someone weird's at the door for you." My flat mate tells me, walking away. Well, that's a little unexpected. I pause my show and roll out of bed. Maybe I should get out of my pajamas, but... who am I kidding, that requires far too much effort.
"Oh my God! It's you!" He gasps, apparently lacking for breath. His long hair covers his eyes, so I only see the grin on his face.
"...Yes?" I say, obviously confused. I'm me. That seems self-evident.
"Welll... How do I say this. I just want you to know that you are my favorite book character and I know how it ends and I want to help change it."
I smirk. Someone must be high.
"What?" I stutter. He must have the wrong guy, but that feels too cliche to say.
"No, it's true! You were just thinking how I'm the wrong guy. Then you slam the door and go upstairs after making an excuse. And write about it online."
Alright, if you insist.
His foot blocks the way.
"But that's what I need to change." The door flings open, throwing me back onto the stairs. "I'm sorry! Oh, this is exciting, I don't know what's going to happen now. You were going to... well, spoilers. I know how you hate them, even if they aren't going to happen! Suffice to say, now I've broken in... you're safe!"
I hit my head on the stairs on the way down, so couldn't really think of what the hell to do. I could hope someone would come and save me, but most situations don't solve themselves.
"You see... this is the end of the book. It's a bit complicated, but I read about you. My book exists in your world too, even if you haven't read it just yet. But I really don't want yours to end...and so long as things keep happening the book can't end right?" He smiles. It widens into a sneer. His eyes go wide. I start to stand up, but he doesn't like that. He pulls out a gun and points it at me.
"Oh wow, you're scared! Usually you shrug it all off. Nothing gets to you. This is exciting!" Like hell it is. This guys gone crazy. I can hear the unsteady rhythm of my heart. If life had a climax, this would be it. I try to shout but he rushes forward and covers my mouth.
"Don't get anyone else involved! Your at you're best when it's just you and your thoughts, really. I wouldn't want to waste my time reading about anyone else, having Dave answer the door was bad enough!" He drags my hair, forcing me out of the house. I'm tossed aside and my ass meets the mud. I look at him. I stare down the gun's barrel. He lunges at me. I lift my arms. If I can just pry the gun away I might stand a chance.
I've got the gun. But so does he. We wrestle for control. If it fires now it won't hit me. I have the gun facing him. The trigger is missing. His head presses against the barrel. He screams.
"Ooh, it's a shame I can't read this... what a plot twist this'll be."
The gun fires. He shot it. Blood splats over my face. A window breaks. I hear a high pitched buzzing. It's the fire alarm. The dead lunatic's body falls backwards. He was wearing gloves. And I have his gun. And I shot him.
I've got to run. | Losing a family member is never easy.
It is easier, however, when your Great Aunt Ruth who you only met when you were two years old passes away in her sleep from natural causes in her home in Wisconsin. Death is death, but some kinds are better than others.
I never had a Great Aunt Ruth. Sometimes I pretend I did, though. It's a lot easier that way, to forget about my mother and think of an imaginary old lady dying peacefully in her sleep.
Murder is too harsh a reality for a five year old. When dad suddenly comes to get you from school every day like mom used to, things are different...but nothing is really wrong if you don't know the truth. They always say ignorance is bliss, and so it is - at least until the veil of ignorance falls away. Age does that, you know. Innocence can be bliss, too, and it lasts until a certain age where you start thinking enough on your own to figure things out.
It was my twelfth birthday. I had spent the morning wishing my mom could be there instead of off traveling like she had been for so many of my birthdays before, and then it suddenly clicked. She was gone, and she was never coming back.
I lost it. I screamed, I threw things, I tried to hold my breath until I passed out. I wanted to die, too, then maybe things would be even.
When my dad walked in the door that afternoon, I was ready to attack him physically and emotionally. I was hurt and disillusioned, and nothing he could say would fix that.
But when he walked in the door, something was off. He knew I had figured it all out, and I knew that he knew. He slumped into the chair right across from me and just stared at me. I still remember the look he gave me - hollow and emotionless, the look of someone who had nothing left inside of him.
"Luke, your sister.." His words were barely words, a guttural moan that sounded like death itself. "My only daughter." He paused, forgetting I was even in the room with him as he folded into himself.
"There was an accident...drunk driver...car rolled...Oh, God."
I can't remember any other time in my life that I saw my dad cry. I wanted to comfort him, but I had nothing to say. I just sat there, motionless.
It was my eighteenth birthday. I wasn't surprised to hear he'd done it. That didn't keep the hurt away, but I knew my dad was only ever hanging on by a thread after my sister's death. At least he'd had the grace to wait until I was an adult. Kept me out of foster care, which I should be thankful for.
I'm not, though. Hearing the last of your family members blew his brains out in the middle of a crowded subway station will do that to you.
And so here I sit, writing this with my right hand as I hold my dad's prescription anti-depressant bottle in my left - still full from years earlier. Probably enough to take down an elephant, and it's not like I was ever a big guy anyway. So here goes - goodbye, world.
*The doorbell rings.*
*Luke looks up, thinks for a second, and lets the bottle of pills fall to the floor. Still clutching his pen, he walks to the front door and swings it open tentatively to find a stranger standing on the porch.*
*"Luke - I just want you to know that you are my favorite book character. I know how it ends, and I want to help change it."* | |
[WP] A terrorist group has began assassinating the world's wealthiest citizens. Attempts to stop them have failed and people are now afraid to own a large amount of money/assets. | Lately there have been rumors of the wealthy building an army. People have been nervous ever since powerful moguls such as the Koch Brothers moved to St. John's in the virgin islands. We all thought they would be assassinated just like everyone else, but images have surfaced showing a massive barrier and large gate protecting multiple neighborhoods filled with lavish villas. What was left of the army followed these moguls to there remote island. They promised them safety, food, shelter, on top of a beautiful location. A video has recently surfaced showing a few hundred soldiers torturing and killing the people who don't reside within the gate. They are killing off the poor and sending a message, mass weaponry has deteriorated ever since the economy collapsed, people fear that the rich are holding bombs, tanks, and any weapon that could wipe out towns. People are even saying they heard Chicago was recently bombed and completely taken out. We feared that they wouldn't go quietly.. we hoped soldiers would side with us, but we were wrong. The storm is on it's way, and I fear it's going to be unlike any storm this nation has ever faced. | For some, money is the epitome of their life. Men and women of past dream dreams of an abundance of wealth, one that could be passed down generation after generation. People are materialistic beings. Combine that with a single life, you get slaves chasing after the carrot on the stick. Driven on by tales of the few successful, the unsuccessful majority is able to get up day after day. How horribly shocking it would be for them, seeing this world as it is now.
When the absence of money is the key to staying alive, the system crumbles. The cogs and wheels fall. It’s an endless array of structural breakdown, spreading like the plague from country to country. But that was only the beginning.
Originally, the governments tried denial. When that failed, they went up in arms about defending the people against this terror group. That too, failed. When the blaming and pointing begun, it soon devolved into a cornucopia of politicians and officials screaming at one another as the world around them faced a threat beyond any comparison.
The rich were left to fend for themselves. They flew away in private jets. The planes were shot out of the sky. They hired the best bodyguards, hiding behind their precious meatshields. They, too, were killed.
As the lives of the top one percent were extinguished one after another, a worrisome question became apparent. What of the people in the two percent? And what about those in the three and four and five?
The question was promptly answered.
When it became apparent that the only savior for these poor souls was the absence of money, they tried to rid themselves of this damned calling sign for death. But it soon became apparent that the killers cared not for that. If anything, it only hastened the pace at which they came for you.
The world finally knew the truest essence of despair. Everyone had their own ticking bomb. It was only a question of time.
| |
[WP] A terrorist group has began assassinating the world's wealthiest citizens. Attempts to stop them have failed and people are now afraid to own a large amount of money/assets. | Jerry Bradley was a good man. He was a hardworking car mechanic living in New Orleans with his wive Sarah and his two children.
Paying the mortgage on the newly acquired house was tough, but it was worth it.
The old city flat was too small and old, and he always had wanted to own his house.
He worked overtime and was often tired.
Sarah was looking for a job since the children were old enough to go to school, it would improve their situation.
His life plan was destroyed along his house and job by the hurricane.
Sarah and the children died in the new beautiful house while he was stuck in his car on the other side of New Orleans.
The house had been built on the lowest terrain, as it was less expensive, but this choice had sealed his family fate.
Jerry was heartbroken, and angered at himself, and tried to kill himself once but failed.
When he saw that he still had to pay the mortgage for the damn house, and that the insurance was paying him a small part of what it was supposed to do, he snapped.
It was these guys' fault. They made him buy this deadly house due to the land prices and his poor paying job.
They were enjoying their wealth built on his loan and insurance payment, but denied to help him now that he needed it.
He was introduced by a friend in a similar situation to a group of people with similar grudges against "the rich guys".
They claimed to be part of a world underground movement promoting economic equality.
Jerry paid little attention to their "great plan" of "killing the money itself, by making people reject it".
But when the Leader spoke to him, in private, he was surprised.
They knew his story. And cared.
And proposed to give him an opportunity to avenge his family on these rich insurance guys.
That's why Jerry is on this small speedboat in Miami today.
The world is starting to wonder why so much of the wealthiest had fatal accidents these last months, rumors are spawning everywhere.
The underground movement never made a claim, and stays an unknown threat in the shadows that hits anyone with too much money.
Jerry knows that as long as there are rich guys, the movement will never lack volunteers.
With the explosives in the back armed, he is speeding towards the brand new yacht owned by the CEO of its past insurance company.
There seems to be a kind of party on the deck. Jerry is happy. He will see his family shortly.
| For some, money is the epitome of their life. Men and women of past dream dreams of an abundance of wealth, one that could be passed down generation after generation. People are materialistic beings. Combine that with a single life, you get slaves chasing after the carrot on the stick. Driven on by tales of the few successful, the unsuccessful majority is able to get up day after day. How horribly shocking it would be for them, seeing this world as it is now.
When the absence of money is the key to staying alive, the system crumbles. The cogs and wheels fall. It’s an endless array of structural breakdown, spreading like the plague from country to country. But that was only the beginning.
Originally, the governments tried denial. When that failed, they went up in arms about defending the people against this terror group. That too, failed. When the blaming and pointing begun, it soon devolved into a cornucopia of politicians and officials screaming at one another as the world around them faced a threat beyond any comparison.
The rich were left to fend for themselves. They flew away in private jets. The planes were shot out of the sky. They hired the best bodyguards, hiding behind their precious meatshields. They, too, were killed.
As the lives of the top one percent were extinguished one after another, a worrisome question became apparent. What of the people in the two percent? And what about those in the three and four and five?
The question was promptly answered.
When it became apparent that the only savior for these poor souls was the absence of money, they tried to rid themselves of this damned calling sign for death. But it soon became apparent that the killers cared not for that. If anything, it only hastened the pace at which they came for you.
The world finally knew the truest essence of despair. Everyone had their own ticking bomb. It was only a question of time.
| |
[WP] A terrorist group has began assassinating the world's wealthiest citizens. Attempts to stop them have failed and people are now afraid to own a large amount of money/assets. | For the first time, wealth redistribution was pushed by the rich. This absurd threat, killing only the world's wealthiest clearly could be stopped only in one way: by making sure no one was wealthier than the others. The final age of humans was coming: a utopia was being built. Everyone had what they needed, all because for the first time in history, being greedy meant seeking equality. | For some, money is the epitome of their life. Men and women of past dream dreams of an abundance of wealth, one that could be passed down generation after generation. People are materialistic beings. Combine that with a single life, you get slaves chasing after the carrot on the stick. Driven on by tales of the few successful, the unsuccessful majority is able to get up day after day. How horribly shocking it would be for them, seeing this world as it is now.
When the absence of money is the key to staying alive, the system crumbles. The cogs and wheels fall. It’s an endless array of structural breakdown, spreading like the plague from country to country. But that was only the beginning.
Originally, the governments tried denial. When that failed, they went up in arms about defending the people against this terror group. That too, failed. When the blaming and pointing begun, it soon devolved into a cornucopia of politicians and officials screaming at one another as the world around them faced a threat beyond any comparison.
The rich were left to fend for themselves. They flew away in private jets. The planes were shot out of the sky. They hired the best bodyguards, hiding behind their precious meatshields. They, too, were killed.
As the lives of the top one percent were extinguished one after another, a worrisome question became apparent. What of the people in the two percent? And what about those in the three and four and five?
The question was promptly answered.
When it became apparent that the only savior for these poor souls was the absence of money, they tried to rid themselves of this damned calling sign for death. But it soon became apparent that the killers cared not for that. If anything, it only hastened the pace at which they came for you.
The world finally knew the truest essence of despair. Everyone had their own ticking bomb. It was only a question of time.
| |
[WP] A terrorist group has began assassinating the world's wealthiest citizens. Attempts to stop them have failed and people are now afraid to own a large amount of money/assets. | For the first time, wealth redistribution was pushed by the rich. This absurd threat, killing only the world's wealthiest clearly could be stopped only in one way: by making sure no one was wealthier than the others. The final age of humans was coming: a utopia was being built. Everyone had what they needed, all because for the first time in history, being greedy meant seeking equality. | Jerry Bradley was a good man. He was a hardworking car mechanic living in New Orleans with his wive Sarah and his two children.
Paying the mortgage on the newly acquired house was tough, but it was worth it.
The old city flat was too small and old, and he always had wanted to own his house.
He worked overtime and was often tired.
Sarah was looking for a job since the children were old enough to go to school, it would improve their situation.
His life plan was destroyed along his house and job by the hurricane.
Sarah and the children died in the new beautiful house while he was stuck in his car on the other side of New Orleans.
The house had been built on the lowest terrain, as it was less expensive, but this choice had sealed his family fate.
Jerry was heartbroken, and angered at himself, and tried to kill himself once but failed.
When he saw that he still had to pay the mortgage for the damn house, and that the insurance was paying him a small part of what it was supposed to do, he snapped.
It was these guys' fault. They made him buy this deadly house due to the land prices and his poor paying job.
They were enjoying their wealth built on his loan and insurance payment, but denied to help him now that he needed it.
He was introduced by a friend in a similar situation to a group of people with similar grudges against "the rich guys".
They claimed to be part of a world underground movement promoting economic equality.
Jerry paid little attention to their "great plan" of "killing the money itself, by making people reject it".
But when the Leader spoke to him, in private, he was surprised.
They knew his story. And cared.
And proposed to give him an opportunity to avenge his family on these rich insurance guys.
That's why Jerry is on this small speedboat in Miami today.
The world is starting to wonder why so much of the wealthiest had fatal accidents these last months, rumors are spawning everywhere.
The underground movement never made a claim, and stays an unknown threat in the shadows that hits anyone with too much money.
Jerry knows that as long as there are rich guys, the movement will never lack volunteers.
With the explosives in the back armed, he is speeding towards the brand new yacht owned by the CEO of its past insurance company.
There seems to be a kind of party on the deck. Jerry is happy. He will see his family shortly.
|
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