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[WP] Instead of Oceans, they are all big forests, that gets taller and darker instead of deeper, with more dangerous animals living further out in the forest. A person decides to cross the Mariana Trench | *Entry 4, March 13, 1984* "A Breach!"
Vanessa, you were correct! The *Gigansuchus* DO breach the canopy. Those holes described by Remington's expedition of 1937 are the breaching-points these leviathans use to escape the lower levels of the Pacific Growth. An explanation:
I set my team to surveilling a triad of these holes we found in close proximity - each less than 4km apart - by setting our ship to hover in the center of the triangle they formed, a safe 4000m above the canopy. The handlers passed out the breathing apparatus well in advance, you may be assured, as we were in the upper limits of the Mist. We watched these apertures for three days, and on the morning of the third, we witnessed a *Gigansuchus* breaching the northwest hole (coordinates below).
Vanessa, you cannot imagine it. The Gigans are simply monumental in size. This was a juvenile female, we estimate. Her hide was a dusky yellow-black in coloration and her burrowing-flexors were fully formed along the spine and belly. She was well-built, with all six limbs used to thrust her body - we guessed her size at 200m. We know the post-breeding females can nearly double that, but this was still a grand sight. The Gigan used her limbs to launch herself into the air, and her snout just cleared the lowest layer of the Mist, 150m straight up! The female held this pose, undoubtedly using her tail (which was never in sight) along with her lowest limbs to grip several branches and keep her bulk upright. They remind me strongly of Central American alligators in build, though their vertical jaws and lack of eyes are clear specializations to their environment. She inhaled and exhaled several times, and then simply fell back into the canopy. The noise of her impact was clearly audible even at our height!
Send Brian and Palmer my salutations. Be at ease Vanessa, for our solar cells remain stable and the frame of our ship is standing up to the winds. We will complete the crossing in two months, well on schedule. You will receive another letter in two weeks, keep the bird's cage clean and stocked.
All my love,
Rebecca. | Rumbling in the deep. The sound of light hidden beneath the crowns of barked trees thousands of years old. Their branches swaying with pride, watching over the roots and the dirt that hold them. The forest grew thicker as our journey took us deeper into the vastness of the green void. We’d already been travelling for two months, but only now did we reach the depth we have so desired. Only now does our true test begins, to search for what has always been lost.
The darkness is the worst part. Our lights do not reach far in this maze of wood and leaf. And the rumbling that warns us of our destination’s horror, it instills in us as much hope as madness. We have already left much of our party behind, now it is only the three of us left. Our provisions should take us there and back. It’s not much longer now. I can feel the air thickening all around me. The invasive scent of ten thousand years. So long have these titans stood like the pillars of our planet, unrelenting in their will to dominate what little space they have. None have ever broken through, not until now. We’ll be the first, the ones to unravel the last great mystery of our planet!
I feel… shameful. The memories of light that once lit my mind on fire are slowly vanishing into the deep along with my own sanity. My companions are not unaffected either. She speaks of ungodly horrors that awaits us, but I do not believe her. He is unusually quiet. The earth is round and this is just a forest. There are only trees here, trees and dirt and darkness. As our peers are up there, beyond the depths of our hell exploring space and time, we travel ever on with no guiding light nor hope of enlightenment. Why did I ever go here I cannot say, but now it is too late to turn back. We must press on now, for our planet, our people, and our own survival I fear.
I hear drums now. Yes, drums of war in the distance. It’s so clear now, so loud. They’re calling us! My companions cannot see it, they are blind to the madness that has befallen them! I must make my escape, I do not trust them any longer. So quiet and so loud, it melts away my mind. Soon it will be over. Soon it will all be over. I do not trust her, no more. She looks too relaxed, too comfortable… Surely she means to lead us to our death! I will not allow it! Soon, soon I will act…
Smoke rises from within the trees now. I hear the crackling of fire, and the pounding of thunder from the ground. Every step is a step towards doom, yet my feet fear it not.
They get closer now. Go, my Lord, while there is time. Soon the dark will falter and the light shine its rays of death upon thine crown. No king rules forever, but you may yet live. They will breach our borders soon… They come.
(I got weird with it... Randomly changing narrator is fun, but probably unreadable.) | |
[WP] Instead of Oceans, they are all big forests, that gets taller and darker instead of deeper, with more dangerous animals living further out in the forest. A person decides to cross the Mariana Trench | It was a subtle shift. I didn’t see it so much as feel it. The forest didn’t get darker, merely got heavier, the silence, deeper. Night fell. There was no wind. How could there be? The trees were monolithic. Each trunk was twice as thick again as I could run in five minutes, their branches spanning the sky, each leaf blotting out more of the sun, mingling with its neighbour, an unmoving canopy that roofed the world far above my head.
A noise broke the silence, the sound of a snapping twig. I halted, thrusting my torch higher in the air, to the left of my eyes. The flames burned brightly, but did not reveal the source. If I had to fight, I would, though running was the better option. Many things lived in this forest. Things that could rip me to shreds without a modest effort. I would not fall because a sword had hampered my escape. I dropped into a crouch and drew a long knife from my belt, lowering the hood of my black forest cloak.
Another sound, like the barest whisper of dry leaves across bare stone. Quickly, I smothered the torch. Blackness dropped and I heard the individual footsteps of the approaching creature. In my stoop, I crept to a hollow in one of the great roots of the nearest mountain-tree. My hand brushed the old wood, the section had been undisturbed and grown over with moss. The dampness soothed my nerves and I went prone, laying in the mud. A trickle of mud slid into my boots; mud soaked my chest and legs. I pulled my hood up again, to hide any shine from my sweat laden skin, any sound my held breath may have released. My eyes slowly adjusted in the gloom, my heart beating like mad in my chest. Shapes began to take form in the darkness.
I saw it. The beast was massive. It looked like a wolf, if a wolf had stolen its skin from the bark of a tree. Moss hung from its maw, its eyes shone a pale, acid green, and shone through the night. Teeth and fangs of stone gnashed and its bark skin stood at the hackles. It smelled me. Or the fire I had recently put out. It stepped toward me. I fought my screaming instincts. I wouldn’t run. It could have me in a second. I focused on staying still. On not breathing. On calming my wildly beating heart so that its sound would not betray me.
A great sound filled that terrible moment. Like the groaning of a falling tree. It started low and raised in pitch to a wailing high, somewhere far in the distance. The great wolf cocked its head and its ears perked forward and swivelled to locate the direction of that call. I nearly couldn’t contain myself. In that second, it looked more like a quizzical puppy, than a beast intent on devouring me. I swallowed my insane laughter and kept silent. Odd what the prospect of death will do to one’s sense of humour. The wolf stepped back, tilted its head and replied to the call in kind. The eerie, forest howl of that wolf would haunt me. The beast turned to me once more before departing, then bounded into the darkness, leaving me to silence again.
After many long minutes I rose from the nook, sheathing my blade and wiping the thick green moss from my hands and cloak. I backtracked the way I had come from, only now seeing the signs of the wolves’ territory. Paw prints in the dirt, old bones of other, smaller creatures that on first glance had looked to be thin, pale branches. Clear edge markings now made their way into my limited sight, deep claw marks in the massive trees. I was now outside the wolves’ domain. A sharp snarl filled the air and I spun about, another wolf had leaped to the top of one of the roots. It jumped again and landed in front of me, hardly stirring the ground it landed on and making not a sound. It looked me in the eye. I lowered my hands. Appearing threatening would only provoke it. The beast barked and laid down on the path I had just walked from, at the very edge of its territory. A low growl filled the air and I backed away, step by step. Its shape faded into the darkness, but its quick eyes followed me until I backed into the root of another tree.
I turned and ran along the root until I reached the point where it penetrated the earth. I followed it back along the other side, hoping it would lead to a hollow. To somewhere I could sleep, safe from the horrors of the night. When I reached the base of the tree, I was in luck. I crawled into the space, too small for most animals this deep in the forest to fit. Inside there was a pool in the center, fed by a trickle from the ceiling, that in turn drained into a crack on the other side, likely going on to feed a root of the behemoth tree. | Pillars of wood and bark stand in his path. His clothes are ragged, torn and covered with dust. Proudly, he puts his hand on his sides as he stares at the giant forest, "the tallest and darkest in the world eh?" he spoke, in a thick Irish Accent. Matthew O'Riley, one of the greatest Woodfarers who ever lived, was standing before Mariana Trench, the most dangerous place on Earth.
Creatures dwelled in these forests, creatures which had adapted the searing heights and cold darkness of the environment, and hadn't been seen by a single man alive. "We're in for an adventure boys!", declared the Irishmen to a group of whitened men. None of them shared a passion such as O'Riley's, who had resolved as a child to be the first man to cross Mariana Trench. His two companions were Hugh and Laurie. Hugh a former lieutenant in the army and Laurie a botanist, determined to prove his abilities to his father, the Dean of the Royal College of Botany in London. They had set with as much fanfare as suicidal adventurers receive, with their departure dates marked on every calendar but their return on none.
Such was the might of the Pacific forest that none had been able to pass through it alive. The first day of their journey was a calm, windy day, with the repeating thumph thumph thumph of the helicopter buzzing through silent skies. They decided to camp on top of an oak tree, with some flat on it right edge. Looking down from the edge, one felt smaller than an ant, sitting on a bush surrounded by redwoods on all sides. In the depth of the darkness, dwelled creatures which shouldn't be disturbed. The group of young men kept the fire as small as possible, and had a quiet dinner of soup and bread, what came next on each one's mind.
Suddenly, they all heard a screech louder than they ever had, and wings flapping in the air...... | |
[WP] Instead of Oceans, they are all big forests, that gets taller and darker instead of deeper, with more dangerous animals living further out in the forest. A person decides to cross the Mariana Trench | My wits had near left me, I was so frightened.
In our arrogance, we believed ourselves the strongest of all species. Yet, every time someone braved the oceans, they came back with gruesome stories of horrible monsters and terrifying darkness. As far as I can remember, I was always fascinated by the Pacific Ocean. The most frightening tales always came from those dark, green depths. I grew up and attended college, with the intent to study ocean life and its environment.
The farther exploration parties delved into them, the stranger the stories became. The creatures, however, were what I always was the most fascinated with. Beasts bigger than my own apartment and tiny tree-dwellers with glowing bodies. School was not difficult for me as I was studying what I loved.
One of my professors, a regular explorer during the summer, took me under his wing. After learning about my passion, he promised to get me a good field job after I graduated.
That job is why I am here now. Mariana’s Trench, the largest ocean forest known to man. I hunch underneath the gnarled roots of a massive tree, two hands over my mouth. Faint wheezes emanated from between my fingers, but thankfully much quieter than it would have been otherwise. The weight of the .32 pistol on my hip did nothing to assuage my fears. It was empty anyway. We were two weeks’ worth of marching into the Trench before it started hunting us. We ran for at least four days before I was the last left. I had been running for a week and a half, slowly spiraling into insanity. Distant rumblings caused by some enormous beast and unearthly screeches were my two constant companions. I was used to those noises by now.
The slithering noise, so quiet and deadly, startled me from my pointless thoughts.
I was scared witless now.
There was no coherent thought, no recollection of what followed. Only the need to run. I did run as fast as I could, deeper and deeper into hell. I gasped for breath, stopping only once to catch it. It didn’t matter. Consistently, the thing would find me after five minutes or so.
I ran some more.
Morning found me curled on the broad limb of a tree. I don’t know how I got there but the broken nails and scrapped limbs were telling. I had been very desperate to get away. Whatever was happening to me, I was losing my mind. The trees themselves were a wonder. Rather, the tree was a wonder. There was no singular tree, they were all connected. Leafy foliage stretching from trunk to trunk, branches tangled together. The flora was a fantastic blend of bright colors and fantastic shapes. Most had some form of dangerous defense mechanism.
Of the fauna…it was best to stay away from ninety percent of them. Most were poisonous or venomous and all were deadly. The sting ray was one of the strangest and most dangerous. It used its belly muscle to crawl up trees, blending in with the bark. It would then release itself when prey came near, gliding through the air before stabbing its victim with its barbed stinger.
My breath hitched as I knew there were things much, much more dangerous than the sting ray. I opened my flat pack and scrabbled through it, searching for the leather-bound book. Inside, it contained knowledge of all things that had been discovered in Mariana’s Trench.
I flipped through it feverishly, knowing that I had maybe half a day before it discovered me again. That’s how it happened, day in and day out. I would hid until it found me and then we’d be off again. I’d find some place to hide for the night until either it found me or some other deadly danger forced me to run.
I spent all my spare time searching through the large book for some hint of what it was that was hunting me. It was no easy task as the book was nearly as large as a dictionary.
I skimmed through about thirty pages of text before I was hungry. I had taken to hunting the crabs that lift on the forest floor. My machete and hatchet, originally meant for clearing paths, served me well enough in that area.
The book had a list of non-poisonous plants for vegetables. Forest weeds were bland but they didn't kill me so I ate them as well. I wrapped my fingers with strips of cloth torn from what used to be one of my shirts.
I sat over my kill, wrapping each piece of meat with weeds before swallowing the food. It was revolting after eating only that for so long but it kept me healthy.
I woke up, a sense of impending danger making the hairs of my neck stand on end. I cursed myself silently for a fool. I had actually fallen asleep on the floor of the forest, a very stupid thing to do.
I was so tired but I forced myself to stand, preparing mentally. I knew what had woken me up. It was what usually woke me up.
There.
*Ksssthhhhhssssss*. Pause. *Kchhhhhkkshhhhhh.* A longer pause this time. *Shhhhthkshhhhhh ch ch chhhhh.* *Shhhk shhk shhhhhhtthhhhhshk shkkk.*
The last variation of slithering and almost unnoticeable thunks let me know it had caught my scent.
And so I ran.
The sound was closer today. I quietly gasped, crouching in a good size copse. It was too close and yet I hadn't noticed. My senses were dulled from lack of sleep.
The shape reared up, a good fifteen feet high. The dim light of the forest made its skin gleam, though it was hard to tell what its skin actually was composed of.
It had a long, serpentine neck from what I could see. I would have thought it was a massive snake but the soft *shthunk* it made when it moved convinced me otherwise. It was obviously a very heavy beast.
*Hssssshhhh.* I heard it take in a breath of air. A dim light emanated from it now and for a brief second I thought it was a bioluminescent animal.
I was wrong.
*Cont.* | Pillars of wood and bark stand in his path. His clothes are ragged, torn and covered with dust. Proudly, he puts his hand on his sides as he stares at the giant forest, "the tallest and darkest in the world eh?" he spoke, in a thick Irish Accent. Matthew O'Riley, one of the greatest Woodfarers who ever lived, was standing before Mariana Trench, the most dangerous place on Earth.
Creatures dwelled in these forests, creatures which had adapted the searing heights and cold darkness of the environment, and hadn't been seen by a single man alive. "We're in for an adventure boys!", declared the Irishmen to a group of whitened men. None of them shared a passion such as O'Riley's, who had resolved as a child to be the first man to cross Mariana Trench. His two companions were Hugh and Laurie. Hugh a former lieutenant in the army and Laurie a botanist, determined to prove his abilities to his father, the Dean of the Royal College of Botany in London. They had set with as much fanfare as suicidal adventurers receive, with their departure dates marked on every calendar but their return on none.
Such was the might of the Pacific forest that none had been able to pass through it alive. The first day of their journey was a calm, windy day, with the repeating thumph thumph thumph of the helicopter buzzing through silent skies. They decided to camp on top of an oak tree, with some flat on it right edge. Looking down from the edge, one felt smaller than an ant, sitting on a bush surrounded by redwoods on all sides. In the depth of the darkness, dwelled creatures which shouldn't be disturbed. The group of young men kept the fire as small as possible, and had a quiet dinner of soup and bread, what came next on each one's mind.
Suddenly, they all heard a screech louder than they ever had, and wings flapping in the air...... | |
[WP] Instead of Oceans, they are all big forests, that gets taller and darker instead of deeper, with more dangerous animals living further out in the forest. A person decides to cross the Mariana Trench | September 22, 2035
"This is the first day that I have decided to start using this damned audio recorder. My doctor thought it would help keep my head on straight while I was heading on what he called," a mad mans journey" but I say, Screw him! The guy was a crackpot anyway."
September 25, 2035
"These trees are getting really creepy. I lost all natural light about noon today, and all of the normal animals like deer, rabbits, and birds are gone now. This whole trip is starting to seem like a bad idea, but screw it, I'm gonna see what the hell is up with this big trench. I remember some crazy old man shouting something about the trench, but it was probably just meaningless nonsense."
September 27, 2035
"According to the directions I got from the forest master near the treeline, the trench should be only a half a days journey. I'm glad I'm almost there, because my rations are almost at the halfway mark, and at this point, I won't have enough to make it back.
About half a day after my last recording, almost all normal animals have disappeared. Save for all kinds of creepy insects and plants, I haven't seen anything except for these freaky-ass trees. I finally remembered that the crazy old guy down by the treeline claimed to have been to the trench and seen a great monster that lived there. supposedly it tried to lure in travellers by sounding like a woman asking for help, but if you listened closely, you could tell that it was actually the monster. An interesting story, but the geezer was as nutty as it gets, so I don't give it much credit."
September 29, 2035
"Finally made it to the trench and might I say, it is creepy as hell. The trees just kind of drop off into a rocky cliff, and I can't see anything down there. I can barely see anything as it is, I have to use a headlamp to see at all."
*snap*
"What the hell was that?"
"Please... I need..."
"Hold on just as second! what do you need?"
" I need..."
"Is it food? Are you injured?"
" I need about tree fiddy."
" OH GOD NO!!!"
*bones snapping, screaming, and flesh tearing*
*The great reptilian beast lifts it's head from the new corpse*
" Nessie, you've outdone yourself this time." | Pillars of wood and bark stand in his path. His clothes are ragged, torn and covered with dust. Proudly, he puts his hand on his sides as he stares at the giant forest, "the tallest and darkest in the world eh?" he spoke, in a thick Irish Accent. Matthew O'Riley, one of the greatest Woodfarers who ever lived, was standing before Mariana Trench, the most dangerous place on Earth.
Creatures dwelled in these forests, creatures which had adapted the searing heights and cold darkness of the environment, and hadn't been seen by a single man alive. "We're in for an adventure boys!", declared the Irishmen to a group of whitened men. None of them shared a passion such as O'Riley's, who had resolved as a child to be the first man to cross Mariana Trench. His two companions were Hugh and Laurie. Hugh a former lieutenant in the army and Laurie a botanist, determined to prove his abilities to his father, the Dean of the Royal College of Botany in London. They had set with as much fanfare as suicidal adventurers receive, with their departure dates marked on every calendar but their return on none.
Such was the might of the Pacific forest that none had been able to pass through it alive. The first day of their journey was a calm, windy day, with the repeating thumph thumph thumph of the helicopter buzzing through silent skies. They decided to camp on top of an oak tree, with some flat on it right edge. Looking down from the edge, one felt smaller than an ant, sitting on a bush surrounded by redwoods on all sides. In the depth of the darkness, dwelled creatures which shouldn't be disturbed. The group of young men kept the fire as small as possible, and had a quiet dinner of soup and bread, what came next on each one's mind.
Suddenly, they all heard a screech louder than they ever had, and wings flapping in the air...... | |
[WP] Instead of Oceans, they are all big forests, that gets taller and darker instead of deeper, with more dangerous animals living further out in the forest. A person decides to cross the Mariana Trench | Crossing the vastly unexplored trench seemed like a good idea at the time. Imagine the headlines - world's most daring explorer.
But the darkness was absolute. The length of the trees were almost eternal. The circumference of the trees themselves would take hours to completely travel around. And that was just an estimation. Daylight is just a myth.`
The darkness was expected. I was prepared. But there was something else. The creatures. This is where prehistoric animals still exist. Creatures that haven't seen daylight since their ancestors descended through the forest to seek shelter from the apocalypse millennia's ago. Some of them have almost unprecedented sizes. You stumble across an animal so small, you can easily grab it and eat it. Then you come across animals so large, you thank whatever God you believe in that they can't see the thin prick of light illuminating the way from your hands.
I know I'm being hunted. These creatures, they can't even see. Eyes are useless at this point. The darkness is so strong, so infinite, so consuming, that nothing can see. Daylight is a myth. I estimate a creature roughly the size of a bear is coming for me. I've seen it. It's funny that a creature with no sight still has eyes so large it's almost comical. Silvery mottled skin with transparent patches. Scars cover it's body. It might be the size of a bear, but that's the only thing it has in common with a bear. The jagged teeth so sharp and so irregularly placed that they have cut through the creature's cheeks on an almost daily basis.
I am going to die.
The sweeping winds mask my scent, but only hasten my death. Even the trees cannot shelter me, for the wind seems to come from every direction. I was not prepared for this. The cold, cold so bad it simply hurts where it touches. Cold so horrific your bones are cold. To feel it in your bones...
This will be my last entry in my video journal. My final moments on this Earth will be spent alone, in the cold and the dark. Daylight is a myth. Even my flash light will only illuminate the way so far. The darkness simply consumes it.
I can see the creature. It has been standing there since I've started, close enough for the flash light to reflect off its eyes. Why has it been waiting? More important, how does it know where I am when it can't see?
| Pillars of wood and bark stand in his path. His clothes are ragged, torn and covered with dust. Proudly, he puts his hand on his sides as he stares at the giant forest, "the tallest and darkest in the world eh?" he spoke, in a thick Irish Accent. Matthew O'Riley, one of the greatest Woodfarers who ever lived, was standing before Mariana Trench, the most dangerous place on Earth.
Creatures dwelled in these forests, creatures which had adapted the searing heights and cold darkness of the environment, and hadn't been seen by a single man alive. "We're in for an adventure boys!", declared the Irishmen to a group of whitened men. None of them shared a passion such as O'Riley's, who had resolved as a child to be the first man to cross Mariana Trench. His two companions were Hugh and Laurie. Hugh a former lieutenant in the army and Laurie a botanist, determined to prove his abilities to his father, the Dean of the Royal College of Botany in London. They had set with as much fanfare as suicidal adventurers receive, with their departure dates marked on every calendar but their return on none.
Such was the might of the Pacific forest that none had been able to pass through it alive. The first day of their journey was a calm, windy day, with the repeating thumph thumph thumph of the helicopter buzzing through silent skies. They decided to camp on top of an oak tree, with some flat on it right edge. Looking down from the edge, one felt smaller than an ant, sitting on a bush surrounded by redwoods on all sides. In the depth of the darkness, dwelled creatures which shouldn't be disturbed. The group of young men kept the fire as small as possible, and had a quiet dinner of soup and bread, what came next on each one's mind.
Suddenly, they all heard a screech louder than they ever had, and wings flapping in the air...... | |
[WP] Instead of Oceans, they are all big forests, that gets taller and darker instead of deeper, with more dangerous animals living further out in the forest. A person decides to cross the Mariana Trench | Few men have ever tried to cross the Mariana jungle. Those who have are yet to return. While they tell me i'll die, I know I'm gonna be the first to do it.
The trees aren't too tall on the eastern coast of the Philippines, but you can't look far into the horizons before the looming wooden pillars block the sun. My cameraman is at my side, a nervous look on his face. The people at the beach are staring, I can't blame them considering what we're wearing. Our forest navigation gear and large backpacks don't match the local style much.
"Ready?" I ask Tom. He looks back at me, "As ready as I'll ever be, I suppose".
We make our way towards the trees. They're spread out for now, few shrubs stand in our path. The muddy earth already sticks to our boots, but I can't be hindered by dirt. I march on, Tom close behind.
"What are you expecting to find?" He asks, looking back at the beach. "Whatever it is that's killed those before us, I hope. We'll be the first to bring back it's bones!" I can tell my determined look scares him. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't shitting my pants, but this expedition will prove valuable to ecologists around the globe.
We carry rifles, but my main weapon will be my flood light. The animals out there won't be used to anything that bright, if I'm right it should scare them off, while lighting them up perfectly for some pictures. The air is already fairly thin, and it's getting darker every hour we march on. I talk little to Tom, I've never been one for small talk and I know he doesn't mind. The silence is calming to me. A few monkeys crawl around the trees, meters high by now, but we aren't nearly deep enough in yet to worry about wildlife. We came for that which no man has seen before, we haven't even made a new record for deepest expedition yet.
We march on, as the leaves grow denser and sunlight becomes rarer. We soon switch to our lights, and the roots and shrubs make the ground hard to walk on.
"It's been six hours." Tom says after countless silent steps. "It's already ten o clock." Not having sun messes with your sense of time more than I expected. It seemed like it had only been an hour ago since we left the coast. "Alright" I reply, walking on. "When do you want to take a break?". "About now actually" he says, stopping. "I'm already hungry."
"We only have food for three weeks, we aren't even half way yet." It's cruel, but the forest is crueler. We need to ration our supplies if we want to make it. "Can you wait another hour or two?" I keep walking, and he soon is forced to catch up. "Fair enough..." He's tired, I know. So am I, but sleeping will slow is down too much. It has to wait.
And we march on. | Pillars of wood and bark stand in his path. His clothes are ragged, torn and covered with dust. Proudly, he puts his hand on his sides as he stares at the giant forest, "the tallest and darkest in the world eh?" he spoke, in a thick Irish Accent. Matthew O'Riley, one of the greatest Woodfarers who ever lived, was standing before Mariana Trench, the most dangerous place on Earth.
Creatures dwelled in these forests, creatures which had adapted the searing heights and cold darkness of the environment, and hadn't been seen by a single man alive. "We're in for an adventure boys!", declared the Irishmen to a group of whitened men. None of them shared a passion such as O'Riley's, who had resolved as a child to be the first man to cross Mariana Trench. His two companions were Hugh and Laurie. Hugh a former lieutenant in the army and Laurie a botanist, determined to prove his abilities to his father, the Dean of the Royal College of Botany in London. They had set with as much fanfare as suicidal adventurers receive, with their departure dates marked on every calendar but their return on none.
Such was the might of the Pacific forest that none had been able to pass through it alive. The first day of their journey was a calm, windy day, with the repeating thumph thumph thumph of the helicopter buzzing through silent skies. They decided to camp on top of an oak tree, with some flat on it right edge. Looking down from the edge, one felt smaller than an ant, sitting on a bush surrounded by redwoods on all sides. In the depth of the darkness, dwelled creatures which shouldn't be disturbed. The group of young men kept the fire as small as possible, and had a quiet dinner of soup and bread, what came next on each one's mind.
Suddenly, they all heard a screech louder than they ever had, and wings flapping in the air...... | |
[WP] Instead of Oceans, they are all big forests, that gets taller and darker instead of deeper, with more dangerous animals living further out in the forest. A person decides to cross the Mariana Trench | Cool wind whipped around my body, blowing my hood off and exposing my head to the freezing air. My numb fingers passed my numbing ears, and reclaimed the hood, pulling it around me once more. It hardly offered respite from the cold. The most insulating fabrics on my body felt diaphanous in those conditions.
We were deep. Deeper than any man had ever been. The trees around us stretched inexorably upwards, endlessly high, creeping towards the sunlight and claiming it all for themselves. The path behind us was visible only when illuminated by the beams of our flashlights and the path before us did not yet exist. We wordlessly hacked our way through the thick underbrush, winding a serpentine route through the increasingly arduous terrain. The off-road vehicle carrying our supplies and sleeping quarters lurched slowly behind me.
There were four of us, myself and three others. Four of the most seasoned explorers of forest regions in the world- Cook, Magellan, Vespucci, and Columbus, you might have called us, had you looked towards the famous tales of seafaring explorers for inspiration. Our story, however, was not one of fiction. The seventy percent of the earth covered by these dense woodlands remained largely unexplored, and our intent was to conquer the largest of the unexplored, the Marianas Trench. Over fifteen hundred miles deep, the trench was the lowest point on earth, and contained creatures so strange and gruesome, some say it must have stretched deep enough to crack into hell itself and free the demons from their fiery prison.
Hulbert was our leader, a tall man with a large mustache, offset by his mostly bald head. He and I were typically in front, snaking our way through the undergrowth like a scouting party behind enemy lines. Iaquinta, Hulbert’s antithesis, a short, tanned man with a thick shock of black hair, could often be found behind the wheel, and Ulrich, lanky young man with blond hair, spent most of his time substituting in for Hulbert or I, when one of us acquiesced a break.
We made slow progress initially, but after about one day, our party hit its stride, and we began moving at a steady rate. We had anticipated smooth sailing, however plans rarely go as expected, and ours was no exception.
| Pillars of wood and bark stand in his path. His clothes are ragged, torn and covered with dust. Proudly, he puts his hand on his sides as he stares at the giant forest, "the tallest and darkest in the world eh?" he spoke, in a thick Irish Accent. Matthew O'Riley, one of the greatest Woodfarers who ever lived, was standing before Mariana Trench, the most dangerous place on Earth.
Creatures dwelled in these forests, creatures which had adapted the searing heights and cold darkness of the environment, and hadn't been seen by a single man alive. "We're in for an adventure boys!", declared the Irishmen to a group of whitened men. None of them shared a passion such as O'Riley's, who had resolved as a child to be the first man to cross Mariana Trench. His two companions were Hugh and Laurie. Hugh a former lieutenant in the army and Laurie a botanist, determined to prove his abilities to his father, the Dean of the Royal College of Botany in London. They had set with as much fanfare as suicidal adventurers receive, with their departure dates marked on every calendar but their return on none.
Such was the might of the Pacific forest that none had been able to pass through it alive. The first day of their journey was a calm, windy day, with the repeating thumph thumph thumph of the helicopter buzzing through silent skies. They decided to camp on top of an oak tree, with some flat on it right edge. Looking down from the edge, one felt smaller than an ant, sitting on a bush surrounded by redwoods on all sides. In the depth of the darkness, dwelled creatures which shouldn't be disturbed. The group of young men kept the fire as small as possible, and had a quiet dinner of soup and bread, what came next on each one's mind.
Suddenly, they all heard a screech louder than they ever had, and wings flapping in the air...... | |
[WP] Instead of Oceans, they are all big forests, that gets taller and darker instead of deeper, with more dangerous animals living further out in the forest. A person decides to cross the Mariana Trench | They say that nature reclaims everything. That, given time, she will always heal, grow, survive hardship, and come out stronger for having endured it. Continents may shift, disasters ravage the land, volcanoes have filled the sky with ash and coated the ground in rock. And still nature emerges. Tenacious. Enduring. Overcoming. And now, she is recovering from the greatest infection she has ever experienced.
Humanity.
With their glass and concrete spires, ribbons of asphalt creating an artificial webbing across once-verdant landscapes, blue waters turning black from pollution and waste. Humanity had taken over. And nature had fought back, furious at the exploitation of her bounty. She retaliated, and humanity had lost. Humanity was dying, and Mother Nature was recycling civilizations' carcass. This event is known as the Reclamation.
They say that, long ago, the Great Forests were once massive bodies of water. Some say that nature covered them over with the trees, to prevent the toxins of man from harming them. The Great Pacific Forest was supposedly where the first of the trees grew from. Near a land once known as 'Mariana.' That is where the most gargantuan of the wooden sentinels stand.
Men have seen their world of steel and glass slowly returning to the earth, and sought a way to regain the control over the world that they once had. If they could find a way to halt, or at least slow down, the advance of nature and the Reclamation, then they would have something to strive for. They would have hope, even a shard of it, that they too wouldn't be forgotten beneath the foliage.
Many valiant groups have searched, braving the Great Forests in an attempt to find something, anything, that could help. To find that sliver of hope, that tiny spark that they could clutch and feel that they still had a chance.
One such spark was found near the old Mariana.
The remaining world leaders have sent many groups of explorers into the towering trees, but for every ten men that went out, only two would come back. And they would return with bizarre reports of creatures. Things that hunt beneath the arboreal pillars, and have only grown beneath that primeval canopy. Beasts that appeared... far more intelligent than any animal had a right to be. Could they have found the source, the font of nature's rampant growth? The key to stopping it, deep within it's own core? We may never find out. For even these reports were from many years ago.
Today, few have the resources, or even the strength of will, to venture into the vast groves that have claimed so many before them. Many were small bands of people with nothing to lose, the grim determination of those who have learned not to hope, not to expect anything to come from their endeavors.
This is where our story begins, with one who has nothing, but is searching for that spark of hope that humanity so desperately needs... | Pillars of wood and bark stand in his path. His clothes are ragged, torn and covered with dust. Proudly, he puts his hand on his sides as he stares at the giant forest, "the tallest and darkest in the world eh?" he spoke, in a thick Irish Accent. Matthew O'Riley, one of the greatest Woodfarers who ever lived, was standing before Mariana Trench, the most dangerous place on Earth.
Creatures dwelled in these forests, creatures which had adapted the searing heights and cold darkness of the environment, and hadn't been seen by a single man alive. "We're in for an adventure boys!", declared the Irishmen to a group of whitened men. None of them shared a passion such as O'Riley's, who had resolved as a child to be the first man to cross Mariana Trench. His two companions were Hugh and Laurie. Hugh a former lieutenant in the army and Laurie a botanist, determined to prove his abilities to his father, the Dean of the Royal College of Botany in London. They had set with as much fanfare as suicidal adventurers receive, with their departure dates marked on every calendar but their return on none.
Such was the might of the Pacific forest that none had been able to pass through it alive. The first day of their journey was a calm, windy day, with the repeating thumph thumph thumph of the helicopter buzzing through silent skies. They decided to camp on top of an oak tree, with some flat on it right edge. Looking down from the edge, one felt smaller than an ant, sitting on a bush surrounded by redwoods on all sides. In the depth of the darkness, dwelled creatures which shouldn't be disturbed. The group of young men kept the fire as small as possible, and had a quiet dinner of soup and bread, what came next on each one's mind.
Suddenly, they all heard a screech louder than they ever had, and wings flapping in the air...... | |
[WP] Instead of Oceans, they are all big forests, that gets taller and darker instead of deeper, with more dangerous animals living further out in the forest. A person decides to cross the Mariana Trench | The conquistador stopped in his tracks. Before him, the vast endless forest lay before him.
He paused for a breath, as if he was taking a plunge. This was it. There was no turning back now. From here on, the only way was down.
The conquistador, walked along the tight trodden path down a steep decline. Behind him was a small 20-man company of lightly armoured soldiers, carefully following his every step.
Around them, the forest was thick and impenetrable – the path being the welcome exception. All around the men were sounds of life – birds singing, rustle of leaves blowing in the wind. The searing sun illuminated their path between the sparse trees.
To the uninitiated, the forest seemed like any normal one. Yet the ominous nature of it was not lost on any of the travelers.
The conquistador, Ferdinand Pizarro, knew what the maps had labeled this forest as: The Great Forest. This was the great uncharted territory. Nothing was shown here on the maps but it‘s outline.
No one had ever traveled more than a few days down. No one – until, hopefully, now. The secrets of the forest, and hopefully vast riches, would finally come to bear.
But it wasn‘t it‘s secrets that worried him.
He knew what local village called it: The Void. It was an unholy place. For centuries it was strictly forbidden to travel even to the border of the forest at nightfall. Those who did, often told stories of unusual encounters with terrible creatures with many legs or several eyes.
Those who dared to even venture into the forest never ventured particularly deep – and of those who did, if they came back at all, seemingly lost their mind.
Every villager knew countless stories of the sights those poor people claim to have witnessed: strange beasts flying in the air, and a darkness that made the night sky seem like a welcome sun, or terrible growling sounds emanating from deep within.
Ferdinand took off his helmet and put it into the carriage; the sweat was piling up. He himself was no stranger to travel. After all, it was him who was personally selected by the Queen to lead this mission. The Queen had heard of other heads of state starting to explore their nearby forests, each as unexplored as the last. Some went disastrously, with the mission never to be seen again. But some, particularly the short ones, were successful beyond their wildest dreams, even finding new lands on the other side.
It was easy to select Ferdinand – a world traveler, a veteran of war, and a renowned figure in the whole of Spain.
His skills were needed to the utmost now, however. God may have helped him fight against his human enemies, but what of the foe who is unknown, unpredictable, even incomprehensible? How will the almighty protect him against such a monster? He prayed that he may escape this trial alive, yet quitting was not an option.
The hours passed. The men, loyal to him, showed no signs of weariness.
However, the ground had quickly became harsher. The green forest growth was now few and far between. Ferdinand could now see between the trees, and at certain angles eve somewhat far ahead.
However, darkness was creeping in.
The tree stems had grown larger, supporting the mostly naked stems, who reached hundreds of metres into the air, ending in a small, green, glittery collection of leaves high above. Some sunbeams managed to break in down below, further accentuating the dim space the mission was now in.
Suddenly, Ferdinand stopped dead in his tracks and stared ahead of him.
„Men, stop!“. The sound of the horse‘s clattering and the men‘s sporadic chatter died down.
„Silence!“. The forest had now died down to the point that there was absolute silence, outside of faint bird songs in the skies above them.
„What is the matter, sir?“ A man dressed similarly to Ferdinand, but with a lower ranking insignia, walked up to him.
„I could swear I heard a voice in the distance.“
„That‘s impossible, sir. No one is here but us.“ Christopher, Ferdinand‘s right hand, skimmed the area in front of him.
Suddenly, he heard it too. A faint call in the distance before them: „Help! Please!“
Ferdinand sprints ahead. Christopher follows him, telling the men: „Onwards, quickly!“
However, as Christopher saw Ferdinand running far ahead of him, he couldn‘t help but to suspect something strange about the voice. He saw the pitch-black darkness in the distance and felt an unease he thought long forgotten.
-----
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| Pillars of wood and bark stand in his path. His clothes are ragged, torn and covered with dust. Proudly, he puts his hand on his sides as he stares at the giant forest, "the tallest and darkest in the world eh?" he spoke, in a thick Irish Accent. Matthew O'Riley, one of the greatest Woodfarers who ever lived, was standing before Mariana Trench, the most dangerous place on Earth.
Creatures dwelled in these forests, creatures which had adapted the searing heights and cold darkness of the environment, and hadn't been seen by a single man alive. "We're in for an adventure boys!", declared the Irishmen to a group of whitened men. None of them shared a passion such as O'Riley's, who had resolved as a child to be the first man to cross Mariana Trench. His two companions were Hugh and Laurie. Hugh a former lieutenant in the army and Laurie a botanist, determined to prove his abilities to his father, the Dean of the Royal College of Botany in London. They had set with as much fanfare as suicidal adventurers receive, with their departure dates marked on every calendar but their return on none.
Such was the might of the Pacific forest that none had been able to pass through it alive. The first day of their journey was a calm, windy day, with the repeating thumph thumph thumph of the helicopter buzzing through silent skies. They decided to camp on top of an oak tree, with some flat on it right edge. Looking down from the edge, one felt smaller than an ant, sitting on a bush surrounded by redwoods on all sides. In the depth of the darkness, dwelled creatures which shouldn't be disturbed. The group of young men kept the fire as small as possible, and had a quiet dinner of soup and bread, what came next on each one's mind.
Suddenly, they all heard a screech louder than they ever had, and wings flapping in the air...... | |
[WP] Instead of Oceans, they are all big forests, that gets taller and darker instead of deeper, with more dangerous animals living further out in the forest. A person decides to cross the Mariana Trench | It was a subtle shift. I didn’t see it so much as feel it. The forest didn’t get darker, merely got heavier, the silence, deeper. Night fell. There was no wind. How could there be? The trees were monolithic. Each trunk was twice as thick again as I could run in five minutes, their branches spanning the sky, each leaf blotting out more of the sun, mingling with its neighbour, an unmoving canopy that roofed the world far above my head.
A noise broke the silence, the sound of a snapping twig. I halted, thrusting my torch higher in the air, to the left of my eyes. The flames burned brightly, but did not reveal the source. If I had to fight, I would, though running was the better option. Many things lived in this forest. Things that could rip me to shreds without a modest effort. I would not fall because a sword had hampered my escape. I dropped into a crouch and drew a long knife from my belt, lowering the hood of my black forest cloak.
Another sound, like the barest whisper of dry leaves across bare stone. Quickly, I smothered the torch. Blackness dropped and I heard the individual footsteps of the approaching creature. In my stoop, I crept to a hollow in one of the great roots of the nearest mountain-tree. My hand brushed the old wood, the section had been undisturbed and grown over with moss. The dampness soothed my nerves and I went prone, laying in the mud. A trickle of mud slid into my boots; mud soaked my chest and legs. I pulled my hood up again, to hide any shine from my sweat laden skin, any sound my held breath may have released. My eyes slowly adjusted in the gloom, my heart beating like mad in my chest. Shapes began to take form in the darkness.
I saw it. The beast was massive. It looked like a wolf, if a wolf had stolen its skin from the bark of a tree. Moss hung from its maw, its eyes shone a pale, acid green, and shone through the night. Teeth and fangs of stone gnashed and its bark skin stood at the hackles. It smelled me. Or the fire I had recently put out. It stepped toward me. I fought my screaming instincts. I wouldn’t run. It could have me in a second. I focused on staying still. On not breathing. On calming my wildly beating heart so that its sound would not betray me.
A great sound filled that terrible moment. Like the groaning of a falling tree. It started low and raised in pitch to a wailing high, somewhere far in the distance. The great wolf cocked its head and its ears perked forward and swivelled to locate the direction of that call. I nearly couldn’t contain myself. In that second, it looked more like a quizzical puppy, than a beast intent on devouring me. I swallowed my insane laughter and kept silent. Odd what the prospect of death will do to one’s sense of humour. The wolf stepped back, tilted its head and replied to the call in kind. The eerie, forest howl of that wolf would haunt me. The beast turned to me once more before departing, then bounded into the darkness, leaving me to silence again.
After many long minutes I rose from the nook, sheathing my blade and wiping the thick green moss from my hands and cloak. I backtracked the way I had come from, only now seeing the signs of the wolves’ territory. Paw prints in the dirt, old bones of other, smaller creatures that on first glance had looked to be thin, pale branches. Clear edge markings now made their way into my limited sight, deep claw marks in the massive trees. I was now outside the wolves’ domain. A sharp snarl filled the air and I spun about, another wolf had leaped to the top of one of the roots. It jumped again and landed in front of me, hardly stirring the ground it landed on and making not a sound. It looked me in the eye. I lowered my hands. Appearing threatening would only provoke it. The beast barked and laid down on the path I had just walked from, at the very edge of its territory. A low growl filled the air and I backed away, step by step. Its shape faded into the darkness, but its quick eyes followed me until I backed into the root of another tree.
I turned and ran along the root until I reached the point where it penetrated the earth. I followed it back along the other side, hoping it would lead to a hollow. To somewhere I could sleep, safe from the horrors of the night. When I reached the base of the tree, I was in luck. I crawled into the space, too small for most animals this deep in the forest to fit. Inside there was a pool in the center, fed by a trickle from the ceiling, that in turn drained into a crack on the other side, likely going on to feed a root of the behemoth tree. | It had seemed like it would be so easy when I started. The shallows were just saplings, none even reached my knees at first. As I made my way deeper and deeper, though, I realized how difficult a mission this would be. After only a day the trees towered over me and allowed little light for the floor. My progressions slowed drastically, at first I could get fifteen or twenty miles in a day. Now I consider myself lucky if I make it three. It isn’t really any harder to walk, but I have to be so much more careful. A single wrong step could lead to me falling hundreds of feet to my instant death, and I can’t let that happen. I do not have such an issue with death, but I have to complete my mission. It is said at the very bottom of the Mariana Trench there is a tree older than anything. A tree so old that it might contain the very secrets to how life works, and that is what I hope to find. No, what I have to find, for her sake.
The last radio message I received was twelve days ago, and she wasn’t getting better. The last hope was the tree, Yggdrasil they had named it. I guess it is a fitting name. It is something of a myth after all. The rumors about it are incredible. They say that it takes a half a day of walking just to walk around it. They say it is always burning hot because its roots reach down into the Earth’s mantle and bring magma back up to its trunk. No one really knows any of this though. No one has managed to make it there and back, and those have all been teams.
This isn’t a one person journey. It’s too hard to watch below you and above you at the same time, but in the depths you have to. There are pits and cliffs hidden everywhere and at any second a branch could come crashing down. And those are the accidental dangers. A little way in animals are a problem, but there is a point, right around the beginning of the Trench, where they just disappear. There are no birds, no deer, no squirrels, not even insects. The plants takes over, and if there are animals they are so silent and well hidden you won’t know it. The flora makes up for the lack of fauna, though. The trees here feel more alive than anywhere else. The branches seem to surround you, the vines reach out to grab you, and the roots always lift just in time to trip you. I know it sounds insane, but I don’t think the trees want me here.
It took me forty five days from the Mariana Islands to get here, but here I am. I stand before Yggdrasil, the World Tree, the Tree of Life. The last day of walking was the easiest of all. The trees branches stretch out for mile in all directions so there are no other trees around it. I’ve just been standing at it, admiring it. Slowly I take out my knife and carve off a bit of the bark, and it… shutters. The entire tree shook. I’ve just walked into the castle and punched the king.
| |
[WP] Instead of Oceans, they are all big forests, that gets taller and darker instead of deeper, with more dangerous animals living further out in the forest. A person decides to cross the Mariana Trench | Crossing the vastly unexplored trench seemed like a good idea at the time. Imagine the headlines - world's most daring explorer.
But the darkness was absolute. The length of the trees were almost eternal. The circumference of the trees themselves would take hours to completely travel around. And that was just an estimation. Daylight is just a myth.`
The darkness was expected. I was prepared. But there was something else. The creatures. This is where prehistoric animals still exist. Creatures that haven't seen daylight since their ancestors descended through the forest to seek shelter from the apocalypse millennia's ago. Some of them have almost unprecedented sizes. You stumble across an animal so small, you can easily grab it and eat it. Then you come across animals so large, you thank whatever God you believe in that they can't see the thin prick of light illuminating the way from your hands.
I know I'm being hunted. These creatures, they can't even see. Eyes are useless at this point. The darkness is so strong, so infinite, so consuming, that nothing can see. Daylight is a myth. I estimate a creature roughly the size of a bear is coming for me. I've seen it. It's funny that a creature with no sight still has eyes so large it's almost comical. Silvery mottled skin with transparent patches. Scars cover it's body. It might be the size of a bear, but that's the only thing it has in common with a bear. The jagged teeth so sharp and so irregularly placed that they have cut through the creature's cheeks on an almost daily basis.
I am going to die.
The sweeping winds mask my scent, but only hasten my death. Even the trees cannot shelter me, for the wind seems to come from every direction. I was not prepared for this. The cold, cold so bad it simply hurts where it touches. Cold so horrific your bones are cold. To feel it in your bones...
This will be my last entry in my video journal. My final moments on this Earth will be spent alone, in the cold and the dark. Daylight is a myth. Even my flash light will only illuminate the way so far. The darkness simply consumes it.
I can see the creature. It has been standing there since I've started, close enough for the flash light to reflect off its eyes. Why has it been waiting? More important, how does it know where I am when it can't see?
| It had seemed like it would be so easy when I started. The shallows were just saplings, none even reached my knees at first. As I made my way deeper and deeper, though, I realized how difficult a mission this would be. After only a day the trees towered over me and allowed little light for the floor. My progressions slowed drastically, at first I could get fifteen or twenty miles in a day. Now I consider myself lucky if I make it three. It isn’t really any harder to walk, but I have to be so much more careful. A single wrong step could lead to me falling hundreds of feet to my instant death, and I can’t let that happen. I do not have such an issue with death, but I have to complete my mission. It is said at the very bottom of the Mariana Trench there is a tree older than anything. A tree so old that it might contain the very secrets to how life works, and that is what I hope to find. No, what I have to find, for her sake.
The last radio message I received was twelve days ago, and she wasn’t getting better. The last hope was the tree, Yggdrasil they had named it. I guess it is a fitting name. It is something of a myth after all. The rumors about it are incredible. They say that it takes a half a day of walking just to walk around it. They say it is always burning hot because its roots reach down into the Earth’s mantle and bring magma back up to its trunk. No one really knows any of this though. No one has managed to make it there and back, and those have all been teams.
This isn’t a one person journey. It’s too hard to watch below you and above you at the same time, but in the depths you have to. There are pits and cliffs hidden everywhere and at any second a branch could come crashing down. And those are the accidental dangers. A little way in animals are a problem, but there is a point, right around the beginning of the Trench, where they just disappear. There are no birds, no deer, no squirrels, not even insects. The plants takes over, and if there are animals they are so silent and well hidden you won’t know it. The flora makes up for the lack of fauna, though. The trees here feel more alive than anywhere else. The branches seem to surround you, the vines reach out to grab you, and the roots always lift just in time to trip you. I know it sounds insane, but I don’t think the trees want me here.
It took me forty five days from the Mariana Islands to get here, but here I am. I stand before Yggdrasil, the World Tree, the Tree of Life. The last day of walking was the easiest of all. The trees branches stretch out for mile in all directions so there are no other trees around it. I’ve just been standing at it, admiring it. Slowly I take out my knife and carve off a bit of the bark, and it… shutters. The entire tree shook. I’ve just walked into the castle and punched the king.
| |
[WP] Instead of Oceans, they are all big forests, that gets taller and darker instead of deeper, with more dangerous animals living further out in the forest. A person decides to cross the Mariana Trench | Few men have ever tried to cross the Mariana jungle. Those who have are yet to return. While they tell me i'll die, I know I'm gonna be the first to do it.
The trees aren't too tall on the eastern coast of the Philippines, but you can't look far into the horizons before the looming wooden pillars block the sun. My cameraman is at my side, a nervous look on his face. The people at the beach are staring, I can't blame them considering what we're wearing. Our forest navigation gear and large backpacks don't match the local style much.
"Ready?" I ask Tom. He looks back at me, "As ready as I'll ever be, I suppose".
We make our way towards the trees. They're spread out for now, few shrubs stand in our path. The muddy earth already sticks to our boots, but I can't be hindered by dirt. I march on, Tom close behind.
"What are you expecting to find?" He asks, looking back at the beach. "Whatever it is that's killed those before us, I hope. We'll be the first to bring back it's bones!" I can tell my determined look scares him. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't shitting my pants, but this expedition will prove valuable to ecologists around the globe.
We carry rifles, but my main weapon will be my flood light. The animals out there won't be used to anything that bright, if I'm right it should scare them off, while lighting them up perfectly for some pictures. The air is already fairly thin, and it's getting darker every hour we march on. I talk little to Tom, I've never been one for small talk and I know he doesn't mind. The silence is calming to me. A few monkeys crawl around the trees, meters high by now, but we aren't nearly deep enough in yet to worry about wildlife. We came for that which no man has seen before, we haven't even made a new record for deepest expedition yet.
We march on, as the leaves grow denser and sunlight becomes rarer. We soon switch to our lights, and the roots and shrubs make the ground hard to walk on.
"It's been six hours." Tom says after countless silent steps. "It's already ten o clock." Not having sun messes with your sense of time more than I expected. It seemed like it had only been an hour ago since we left the coast. "Alright" I reply, walking on. "When do you want to take a break?". "About now actually" he says, stopping. "I'm already hungry."
"We only have food for three weeks, we aren't even half way yet." It's cruel, but the forest is crueler. We need to ration our supplies if we want to make it. "Can you wait another hour or two?" I keep walking, and he soon is forced to catch up. "Fair enough..." He's tired, I know. So am I, but sleeping will slow is down too much. It has to wait.
And we march on. | It had seemed like it would be so easy when I started. The shallows were just saplings, none even reached my knees at first. As I made my way deeper and deeper, though, I realized how difficult a mission this would be. After only a day the trees towered over me and allowed little light for the floor. My progressions slowed drastically, at first I could get fifteen or twenty miles in a day. Now I consider myself lucky if I make it three. It isn’t really any harder to walk, but I have to be so much more careful. A single wrong step could lead to me falling hundreds of feet to my instant death, and I can’t let that happen. I do not have such an issue with death, but I have to complete my mission. It is said at the very bottom of the Mariana Trench there is a tree older than anything. A tree so old that it might contain the very secrets to how life works, and that is what I hope to find. No, what I have to find, for her sake.
The last radio message I received was twelve days ago, and she wasn’t getting better. The last hope was the tree, Yggdrasil they had named it. I guess it is a fitting name. It is something of a myth after all. The rumors about it are incredible. They say that it takes a half a day of walking just to walk around it. They say it is always burning hot because its roots reach down into the Earth’s mantle and bring magma back up to its trunk. No one really knows any of this though. No one has managed to make it there and back, and those have all been teams.
This isn’t a one person journey. It’s too hard to watch below you and above you at the same time, but in the depths you have to. There are pits and cliffs hidden everywhere and at any second a branch could come crashing down. And those are the accidental dangers. A little way in animals are a problem, but there is a point, right around the beginning of the Trench, where they just disappear. There are no birds, no deer, no squirrels, not even insects. The plants takes over, and if there are animals they are so silent and well hidden you won’t know it. The flora makes up for the lack of fauna, though. The trees here feel more alive than anywhere else. The branches seem to surround you, the vines reach out to grab you, and the roots always lift just in time to trip you. I know it sounds insane, but I don’t think the trees want me here.
It took me forty five days from the Mariana Islands to get here, but here I am. I stand before Yggdrasil, the World Tree, the Tree of Life. The last day of walking was the easiest of all. The trees branches stretch out for mile in all directions so there are no other trees around it. I’ve just been standing at it, admiring it. Slowly I take out my knife and carve off a bit of the bark, and it… shutters. The entire tree shook. I’ve just walked into the castle and punched the king.
| |
[WP] Instead of Oceans, they are all big forests, that gets taller and darker instead of deeper, with more dangerous animals living further out in the forest. A person decides to cross the Mariana Trench | Cool wind whipped around my body, blowing my hood off and exposing my head to the freezing air. My numb fingers passed my numbing ears, and reclaimed the hood, pulling it around me once more. It hardly offered respite from the cold. The most insulating fabrics on my body felt diaphanous in those conditions.
We were deep. Deeper than any man had ever been. The trees around us stretched inexorably upwards, endlessly high, creeping towards the sunlight and claiming it all for themselves. The path behind us was visible only when illuminated by the beams of our flashlights and the path before us did not yet exist. We wordlessly hacked our way through the thick underbrush, winding a serpentine route through the increasingly arduous terrain. The off-road vehicle carrying our supplies and sleeping quarters lurched slowly behind me.
There were four of us, myself and three others. Four of the most seasoned explorers of forest regions in the world- Cook, Magellan, Vespucci, and Columbus, you might have called us, had you looked towards the famous tales of seafaring explorers for inspiration. Our story, however, was not one of fiction. The seventy percent of the earth covered by these dense woodlands remained largely unexplored, and our intent was to conquer the largest of the unexplored, the Marianas Trench. Over fifteen hundred miles deep, the trench was the lowest point on earth, and contained creatures so strange and gruesome, some say it must have stretched deep enough to crack into hell itself and free the demons from their fiery prison.
Hulbert was our leader, a tall man with a large mustache, offset by his mostly bald head. He and I were typically in front, snaking our way through the undergrowth like a scouting party behind enemy lines. Iaquinta, Hulbert’s antithesis, a short, tanned man with a thick shock of black hair, could often be found behind the wheel, and Ulrich, lanky young man with blond hair, spent most of his time substituting in for Hulbert or I, when one of us acquiesced a break.
We made slow progress initially, but after about one day, our party hit its stride, and we began moving at a steady rate. We had anticipated smooth sailing, however plans rarely go as expected, and ours was no exception.
| It had seemed like it would be so easy when I started. The shallows were just saplings, none even reached my knees at first. As I made my way deeper and deeper, though, I realized how difficult a mission this would be. After only a day the trees towered over me and allowed little light for the floor. My progressions slowed drastically, at first I could get fifteen or twenty miles in a day. Now I consider myself lucky if I make it three. It isn’t really any harder to walk, but I have to be so much more careful. A single wrong step could lead to me falling hundreds of feet to my instant death, and I can’t let that happen. I do not have such an issue with death, but I have to complete my mission. It is said at the very bottom of the Mariana Trench there is a tree older than anything. A tree so old that it might contain the very secrets to how life works, and that is what I hope to find. No, what I have to find, for her sake.
The last radio message I received was twelve days ago, and she wasn’t getting better. The last hope was the tree, Yggdrasil they had named it. I guess it is a fitting name. It is something of a myth after all. The rumors about it are incredible. They say that it takes a half a day of walking just to walk around it. They say it is always burning hot because its roots reach down into the Earth’s mantle and bring magma back up to its trunk. No one really knows any of this though. No one has managed to make it there and back, and those have all been teams.
This isn’t a one person journey. It’s too hard to watch below you and above you at the same time, but in the depths you have to. There are pits and cliffs hidden everywhere and at any second a branch could come crashing down. And those are the accidental dangers. A little way in animals are a problem, but there is a point, right around the beginning of the Trench, where they just disappear. There are no birds, no deer, no squirrels, not even insects. The plants takes over, and if there are animals they are so silent and well hidden you won’t know it. The flora makes up for the lack of fauna, though. The trees here feel more alive than anywhere else. The branches seem to surround you, the vines reach out to grab you, and the roots always lift just in time to trip you. I know it sounds insane, but I don’t think the trees want me here.
It took me forty five days from the Mariana Islands to get here, but here I am. I stand before Yggdrasil, the World Tree, the Tree of Life. The last day of walking was the easiest of all. The trees branches stretch out for mile in all directions so there are no other trees around it. I’ve just been standing at it, admiring it. Slowly I take out my knife and carve off a bit of the bark, and it… shutters. The entire tree shook. I’ve just walked into the castle and punched the king.
| |
[WP] Instead of Oceans, they are all big forests, that gets taller and darker instead of deeper, with more dangerous animals living further out in the forest. A person decides to cross the Mariana Trench | The conquistador stopped in his tracks. Before him, the vast endless forest lay before him.
He paused for a breath, as if he was taking a plunge. This was it. There was no turning back now. From here on, the only way was down.
The conquistador, walked along the tight trodden path down a steep decline. Behind him was a small 20-man company of lightly armoured soldiers, carefully following his every step.
Around them, the forest was thick and impenetrable – the path being the welcome exception. All around the men were sounds of life – birds singing, rustle of leaves blowing in the wind. The searing sun illuminated their path between the sparse trees.
To the uninitiated, the forest seemed like any normal one. Yet the ominous nature of it was not lost on any of the travelers.
The conquistador, Ferdinand Pizarro, knew what the maps had labeled this forest as: The Great Forest. This was the great uncharted territory. Nothing was shown here on the maps but it‘s outline.
No one had ever traveled more than a few days down. No one – until, hopefully, now. The secrets of the forest, and hopefully vast riches, would finally come to bear.
But it wasn‘t it‘s secrets that worried him.
He knew what local village called it: The Void. It was an unholy place. For centuries it was strictly forbidden to travel even to the border of the forest at nightfall. Those who did, often told stories of unusual encounters with terrible creatures with many legs or several eyes.
Those who dared to even venture into the forest never ventured particularly deep – and of those who did, if they came back at all, seemingly lost their mind.
Every villager knew countless stories of the sights those poor people claim to have witnessed: strange beasts flying in the air, and a darkness that made the night sky seem like a welcome sun, or terrible growling sounds emanating from deep within.
Ferdinand took off his helmet and put it into the carriage; the sweat was piling up. He himself was no stranger to travel. After all, it was him who was personally selected by the Queen to lead this mission. The Queen had heard of other heads of state starting to explore their nearby forests, each as unexplored as the last. Some went disastrously, with the mission never to be seen again. But some, particularly the short ones, were successful beyond their wildest dreams, even finding new lands on the other side.
It was easy to select Ferdinand – a world traveler, a veteran of war, and a renowned figure in the whole of Spain.
His skills were needed to the utmost now, however. God may have helped him fight against his human enemies, but what of the foe who is unknown, unpredictable, even incomprehensible? How will the almighty protect him against such a monster? He prayed that he may escape this trial alive, yet quitting was not an option.
The hours passed. The men, loyal to him, showed no signs of weariness.
However, the ground had quickly became harsher. The green forest growth was now few and far between. Ferdinand could now see between the trees, and at certain angles eve somewhat far ahead.
However, darkness was creeping in.
The tree stems had grown larger, supporting the mostly naked stems, who reached hundreds of metres into the air, ending in a small, green, glittery collection of leaves high above. Some sunbeams managed to break in down below, further accentuating the dim space the mission was now in.
Suddenly, Ferdinand stopped dead in his tracks and stared ahead of him.
„Men, stop!“. The sound of the horse‘s clattering and the men‘s sporadic chatter died down.
„Silence!“. The forest had now died down to the point that there was absolute silence, outside of faint bird songs in the skies above them.
„What is the matter, sir?“ A man dressed similarly to Ferdinand, but with a lower ranking insignia, walked up to him.
„I could swear I heard a voice in the distance.“
„That‘s impossible, sir. No one is here but us.“ Christopher, Ferdinand‘s right hand, skimmed the area in front of him.
Suddenly, he heard it too. A faint call in the distance before them: „Help! Please!“
Ferdinand sprints ahead. Christopher follows him, telling the men: „Onwards, quickly!“
However, as Christopher saw Ferdinand running far ahead of him, he couldn‘t help but to suspect something strange about the voice. He saw the pitch-black darkness in the distance and felt an unease he thought long forgotten.
-----
Thanks for reading! Please upvote this post to let me know if you want another part :)
| It had seemed like it would be so easy when I started. The shallows were just saplings, none even reached my knees at first. As I made my way deeper and deeper, though, I realized how difficult a mission this would be. After only a day the trees towered over me and allowed little light for the floor. My progressions slowed drastically, at first I could get fifteen or twenty miles in a day. Now I consider myself lucky if I make it three. It isn’t really any harder to walk, but I have to be so much more careful. A single wrong step could lead to me falling hundreds of feet to my instant death, and I can’t let that happen. I do not have such an issue with death, but I have to complete my mission. It is said at the very bottom of the Mariana Trench there is a tree older than anything. A tree so old that it might contain the very secrets to how life works, and that is what I hope to find. No, what I have to find, for her sake.
The last radio message I received was twelve days ago, and she wasn’t getting better. The last hope was the tree, Yggdrasil they had named it. I guess it is a fitting name. It is something of a myth after all. The rumors about it are incredible. They say that it takes a half a day of walking just to walk around it. They say it is always burning hot because its roots reach down into the Earth’s mantle and bring magma back up to its trunk. No one really knows any of this though. No one has managed to make it there and back, and those have all been teams.
This isn’t a one person journey. It’s too hard to watch below you and above you at the same time, but in the depths you have to. There are pits and cliffs hidden everywhere and at any second a branch could come crashing down. And those are the accidental dangers. A little way in animals are a problem, but there is a point, right around the beginning of the Trench, where they just disappear. There are no birds, no deer, no squirrels, not even insects. The plants takes over, and if there are animals they are so silent and well hidden you won’t know it. The flora makes up for the lack of fauna, though. The trees here feel more alive than anywhere else. The branches seem to surround you, the vines reach out to grab you, and the roots always lift just in time to trip you. I know it sounds insane, but I don’t think the trees want me here.
It took me forty five days from the Mariana Islands to get here, but here I am. I stand before Yggdrasil, the World Tree, the Tree of Life. The last day of walking was the easiest of all. The trees branches stretch out for mile in all directions so there are no other trees around it. I’ve just been standing at it, admiring it. Slowly I take out my knife and carve off a bit of the bark, and it… shutters. The entire tree shook. I’ve just walked into the castle and punched the king.
| |
[WP] Instead of Oceans, they are all big forests, that gets taller and darker instead of deeper, with more dangerous animals living further out in the forest. A person decides to cross the Mariana Trench | It was a subtle shift. I didn’t see it so much as feel it. The forest didn’t get darker, merely got heavier, the silence, deeper. Night fell. There was no wind. How could there be? The trees were monolithic. Each trunk was twice as thick again as I could run in five minutes, their branches spanning the sky, each leaf blotting out more of the sun, mingling with its neighbour, an unmoving canopy that roofed the world far above my head.
A noise broke the silence, the sound of a snapping twig. I halted, thrusting my torch higher in the air, to the left of my eyes. The flames burned brightly, but did not reveal the source. If I had to fight, I would, though running was the better option. Many things lived in this forest. Things that could rip me to shreds without a modest effort. I would not fall because a sword had hampered my escape. I dropped into a crouch and drew a long knife from my belt, lowering the hood of my black forest cloak.
Another sound, like the barest whisper of dry leaves across bare stone. Quickly, I smothered the torch. Blackness dropped and I heard the individual footsteps of the approaching creature. In my stoop, I crept to a hollow in one of the great roots of the nearest mountain-tree. My hand brushed the old wood, the section had been undisturbed and grown over with moss. The dampness soothed my nerves and I went prone, laying in the mud. A trickle of mud slid into my boots; mud soaked my chest and legs. I pulled my hood up again, to hide any shine from my sweat laden skin, any sound my held breath may have released. My eyes slowly adjusted in the gloom, my heart beating like mad in my chest. Shapes began to take form in the darkness.
I saw it. The beast was massive. It looked like a wolf, if a wolf had stolen its skin from the bark of a tree. Moss hung from its maw, its eyes shone a pale, acid green, and shone through the night. Teeth and fangs of stone gnashed and its bark skin stood at the hackles. It smelled me. Or the fire I had recently put out. It stepped toward me. I fought my screaming instincts. I wouldn’t run. It could have me in a second. I focused on staying still. On not breathing. On calming my wildly beating heart so that its sound would not betray me.
A great sound filled that terrible moment. Like the groaning of a falling tree. It started low and raised in pitch to a wailing high, somewhere far in the distance. The great wolf cocked its head and its ears perked forward and swivelled to locate the direction of that call. I nearly couldn’t contain myself. In that second, it looked more like a quizzical puppy, than a beast intent on devouring me. I swallowed my insane laughter and kept silent. Odd what the prospect of death will do to one’s sense of humour. The wolf stepped back, tilted its head and replied to the call in kind. The eerie, forest howl of that wolf would haunt me. The beast turned to me once more before departing, then bounded into the darkness, leaving me to silence again.
After many long minutes I rose from the nook, sheathing my blade and wiping the thick green moss from my hands and cloak. I backtracked the way I had come from, only now seeing the signs of the wolves’ territory. Paw prints in the dirt, old bones of other, smaller creatures that on first glance had looked to be thin, pale branches. Clear edge markings now made their way into my limited sight, deep claw marks in the massive trees. I was now outside the wolves’ domain. A sharp snarl filled the air and I spun about, another wolf had leaped to the top of one of the roots. It jumped again and landed in front of me, hardly stirring the ground it landed on and making not a sound. It looked me in the eye. I lowered my hands. Appearing threatening would only provoke it. The beast barked and laid down on the path I had just walked from, at the very edge of its territory. A low growl filled the air and I backed away, step by step. Its shape faded into the darkness, but its quick eyes followed me until I backed into the root of another tree.
I turned and ran along the root until I reached the point where it penetrated the earth. I followed it back along the other side, hoping it would lead to a hollow. To somewhere I could sleep, safe from the horrors of the night. When I reached the base of the tree, I was in luck. I crawled into the space, too small for most animals this deep in the forest to fit. Inside there was a pool in the center, fed by a trickle from the ceiling, that in turn drained into a crack on the other side, likely going on to feed a root of the behemoth tree. | Old light, long filtered through leaf and branch and dust,
Bare brightens a plain of grey. The trunks, huge wide
And caked in bark like rock, are senitels
Through which I pass.
Each step,
A silent memory.
A walk of
Loneliness,
And regret,
And loss.
Descending
Deeper,
Deeper,
Deeper.
Far down,
Into the underworld.
Until no down remains, amid the roots of the world. Things move
In the gloom. Creatures of the deep, or the souls of the damned. I'm home.
| |
[WP] Instead of Oceans, they are all big forests, that gets taller and darker instead of deeper, with more dangerous animals living further out in the forest. A person decides to cross the Mariana Trench | Crossing the vastly unexplored trench seemed like a good idea at the time. Imagine the headlines - world's most daring explorer.
But the darkness was absolute. The length of the trees were almost eternal. The circumference of the trees themselves would take hours to completely travel around. And that was just an estimation. Daylight is just a myth.`
The darkness was expected. I was prepared. But there was something else. The creatures. This is where prehistoric animals still exist. Creatures that haven't seen daylight since their ancestors descended through the forest to seek shelter from the apocalypse millennia's ago. Some of them have almost unprecedented sizes. You stumble across an animal so small, you can easily grab it and eat it. Then you come across animals so large, you thank whatever God you believe in that they can't see the thin prick of light illuminating the way from your hands.
I know I'm being hunted. These creatures, they can't even see. Eyes are useless at this point. The darkness is so strong, so infinite, so consuming, that nothing can see. Daylight is a myth. I estimate a creature roughly the size of a bear is coming for me. I've seen it. It's funny that a creature with no sight still has eyes so large it's almost comical. Silvery mottled skin with transparent patches. Scars cover it's body. It might be the size of a bear, but that's the only thing it has in common with a bear. The jagged teeth so sharp and so irregularly placed that they have cut through the creature's cheeks on an almost daily basis.
I am going to die.
The sweeping winds mask my scent, but only hasten my death. Even the trees cannot shelter me, for the wind seems to come from every direction. I was not prepared for this. The cold, cold so bad it simply hurts where it touches. Cold so horrific your bones are cold. To feel it in your bones...
This will be my last entry in my video journal. My final moments on this Earth will be spent alone, in the cold and the dark. Daylight is a myth. Even my flash light will only illuminate the way so far. The darkness simply consumes it.
I can see the creature. It has been standing there since I've started, close enough for the flash light to reflect off its eyes. Why has it been waiting? More important, how does it know where I am when it can't see?
| Old light, long filtered through leaf and branch and dust,
Bare brightens a plain of grey. The trunks, huge wide
And caked in bark like rock, are senitels
Through which I pass.
Each step,
A silent memory.
A walk of
Loneliness,
And regret,
And loss.
Descending
Deeper,
Deeper,
Deeper.
Far down,
Into the underworld.
Until no down remains, amid the roots of the world. Things move
In the gloom. Creatures of the deep, or the souls of the damned. I'm home.
| |
[WP] Instead of Oceans, they are all big forests, that gets taller and darker instead of deeper, with more dangerous animals living further out in the forest. A person decides to cross the Mariana Trench | Few men have ever tried to cross the Mariana jungle. Those who have are yet to return. While they tell me i'll die, I know I'm gonna be the first to do it.
The trees aren't too tall on the eastern coast of the Philippines, but you can't look far into the horizons before the looming wooden pillars block the sun. My cameraman is at my side, a nervous look on his face. The people at the beach are staring, I can't blame them considering what we're wearing. Our forest navigation gear and large backpacks don't match the local style much.
"Ready?" I ask Tom. He looks back at me, "As ready as I'll ever be, I suppose".
We make our way towards the trees. They're spread out for now, few shrubs stand in our path. The muddy earth already sticks to our boots, but I can't be hindered by dirt. I march on, Tom close behind.
"What are you expecting to find?" He asks, looking back at the beach. "Whatever it is that's killed those before us, I hope. We'll be the first to bring back it's bones!" I can tell my determined look scares him. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't shitting my pants, but this expedition will prove valuable to ecologists around the globe.
We carry rifles, but my main weapon will be my flood light. The animals out there won't be used to anything that bright, if I'm right it should scare them off, while lighting them up perfectly for some pictures. The air is already fairly thin, and it's getting darker every hour we march on. I talk little to Tom, I've never been one for small talk and I know he doesn't mind. The silence is calming to me. A few monkeys crawl around the trees, meters high by now, but we aren't nearly deep enough in yet to worry about wildlife. We came for that which no man has seen before, we haven't even made a new record for deepest expedition yet.
We march on, as the leaves grow denser and sunlight becomes rarer. We soon switch to our lights, and the roots and shrubs make the ground hard to walk on.
"It's been six hours." Tom says after countless silent steps. "It's already ten o clock." Not having sun messes with your sense of time more than I expected. It seemed like it had only been an hour ago since we left the coast. "Alright" I reply, walking on. "When do you want to take a break?". "About now actually" he says, stopping. "I'm already hungry."
"We only have food for three weeks, we aren't even half way yet." It's cruel, but the forest is crueler. We need to ration our supplies if we want to make it. "Can you wait another hour or two?" I keep walking, and he soon is forced to catch up. "Fair enough..." He's tired, I know. So am I, but sleeping will slow is down too much. It has to wait.
And we march on. | Old light, long filtered through leaf and branch and dust,
Bare brightens a plain of grey. The trunks, huge wide
And caked in bark like rock, are senitels
Through which I pass.
Each step,
A silent memory.
A walk of
Loneliness,
And regret,
And loss.
Descending
Deeper,
Deeper,
Deeper.
Far down,
Into the underworld.
Until no down remains, amid the roots of the world. Things move
In the gloom. Creatures of the deep, or the souls of the damned. I'm home.
| |
[WP] Instead of Oceans, they are all big forests, that gets taller and darker instead of deeper, with more dangerous animals living further out in the forest. A person decides to cross the Mariana Trench | Cool wind whipped around my body, blowing my hood off and exposing my head to the freezing air. My numb fingers passed my numbing ears, and reclaimed the hood, pulling it around me once more. It hardly offered respite from the cold. The most insulating fabrics on my body felt diaphanous in those conditions.
We were deep. Deeper than any man had ever been. The trees around us stretched inexorably upwards, endlessly high, creeping towards the sunlight and claiming it all for themselves. The path behind us was visible only when illuminated by the beams of our flashlights and the path before us did not yet exist. We wordlessly hacked our way through the thick underbrush, winding a serpentine route through the increasingly arduous terrain. The off-road vehicle carrying our supplies and sleeping quarters lurched slowly behind me.
There were four of us, myself and three others. Four of the most seasoned explorers of forest regions in the world- Cook, Magellan, Vespucci, and Columbus, you might have called us, had you looked towards the famous tales of seafaring explorers for inspiration. Our story, however, was not one of fiction. The seventy percent of the earth covered by these dense woodlands remained largely unexplored, and our intent was to conquer the largest of the unexplored, the Marianas Trench. Over fifteen hundred miles deep, the trench was the lowest point on earth, and contained creatures so strange and gruesome, some say it must have stretched deep enough to crack into hell itself and free the demons from their fiery prison.
Hulbert was our leader, a tall man with a large mustache, offset by his mostly bald head. He and I were typically in front, snaking our way through the undergrowth like a scouting party behind enemy lines. Iaquinta, Hulbert’s antithesis, a short, tanned man with a thick shock of black hair, could often be found behind the wheel, and Ulrich, lanky young man with blond hair, spent most of his time substituting in for Hulbert or I, when one of us acquiesced a break.
We made slow progress initially, but after about one day, our party hit its stride, and we began moving at a steady rate. We had anticipated smooth sailing, however plans rarely go as expected, and ours was no exception.
| Old light, long filtered through leaf and branch and dust,
Bare brightens a plain of grey. The trunks, huge wide
And caked in bark like rock, are senitels
Through which I pass.
Each step,
A silent memory.
A walk of
Loneliness,
And regret,
And loss.
Descending
Deeper,
Deeper,
Deeper.
Far down,
Into the underworld.
Until no down remains, amid the roots of the world. Things move
In the gloom. Creatures of the deep, or the souls of the damned. I'm home.
| |
[WP] Instead of Oceans, they are all big forests, that gets taller and darker instead of deeper, with more dangerous animals living further out in the forest. A person decides to cross the Mariana Trench | The conquistador stopped in his tracks. Before him, the vast endless forest lay before him.
He paused for a breath, as if he was taking a plunge. This was it. There was no turning back now. From here on, the only way was down.
The conquistador, walked along the tight trodden path down a steep decline. Behind him was a small 20-man company of lightly armoured soldiers, carefully following his every step.
Around them, the forest was thick and impenetrable – the path being the welcome exception. All around the men were sounds of life – birds singing, rustle of leaves blowing in the wind. The searing sun illuminated their path between the sparse trees.
To the uninitiated, the forest seemed like any normal one. Yet the ominous nature of it was not lost on any of the travelers.
The conquistador, Ferdinand Pizarro, knew what the maps had labeled this forest as: The Great Forest. This was the great uncharted territory. Nothing was shown here on the maps but it‘s outline.
No one had ever traveled more than a few days down. No one – until, hopefully, now. The secrets of the forest, and hopefully vast riches, would finally come to bear.
But it wasn‘t it‘s secrets that worried him.
He knew what local village called it: The Void. It was an unholy place. For centuries it was strictly forbidden to travel even to the border of the forest at nightfall. Those who did, often told stories of unusual encounters with terrible creatures with many legs or several eyes.
Those who dared to even venture into the forest never ventured particularly deep – and of those who did, if they came back at all, seemingly lost their mind.
Every villager knew countless stories of the sights those poor people claim to have witnessed: strange beasts flying in the air, and a darkness that made the night sky seem like a welcome sun, or terrible growling sounds emanating from deep within.
Ferdinand took off his helmet and put it into the carriage; the sweat was piling up. He himself was no stranger to travel. After all, it was him who was personally selected by the Queen to lead this mission. The Queen had heard of other heads of state starting to explore their nearby forests, each as unexplored as the last. Some went disastrously, with the mission never to be seen again. But some, particularly the short ones, were successful beyond their wildest dreams, even finding new lands on the other side.
It was easy to select Ferdinand – a world traveler, a veteran of war, and a renowned figure in the whole of Spain.
His skills were needed to the utmost now, however. God may have helped him fight against his human enemies, but what of the foe who is unknown, unpredictable, even incomprehensible? How will the almighty protect him against such a monster? He prayed that he may escape this trial alive, yet quitting was not an option.
The hours passed. The men, loyal to him, showed no signs of weariness.
However, the ground had quickly became harsher. The green forest growth was now few and far between. Ferdinand could now see between the trees, and at certain angles eve somewhat far ahead.
However, darkness was creeping in.
The tree stems had grown larger, supporting the mostly naked stems, who reached hundreds of metres into the air, ending in a small, green, glittery collection of leaves high above. Some sunbeams managed to break in down below, further accentuating the dim space the mission was now in.
Suddenly, Ferdinand stopped dead in his tracks and stared ahead of him.
„Men, stop!“. The sound of the horse‘s clattering and the men‘s sporadic chatter died down.
„Silence!“. The forest had now died down to the point that there was absolute silence, outside of faint bird songs in the skies above them.
„What is the matter, sir?“ A man dressed similarly to Ferdinand, but with a lower ranking insignia, walked up to him.
„I could swear I heard a voice in the distance.“
„That‘s impossible, sir. No one is here but us.“ Christopher, Ferdinand‘s right hand, skimmed the area in front of him.
Suddenly, he heard it too. A faint call in the distance before them: „Help! Please!“
Ferdinand sprints ahead. Christopher follows him, telling the men: „Onwards, quickly!“
However, as Christopher saw Ferdinand running far ahead of him, he couldn‘t help but to suspect something strange about the voice. He saw the pitch-black darkness in the distance and felt an unease he thought long forgotten.
-----
Thanks for reading! Please upvote this post to let me know if you want another part :)
| Old light, long filtered through leaf and branch and dust,
Bare brightens a plain of grey. The trunks, huge wide
And caked in bark like rock, are senitels
Through which I pass.
Each step,
A silent memory.
A walk of
Loneliness,
And regret,
And loss.
Descending
Deeper,
Deeper,
Deeper.
Far down,
Into the underworld.
Until no down remains, amid the roots of the world. Things move
In the gloom. Creatures of the deep, or the souls of the damned. I'm home.
| |
[WP] Instead of Oceans, they are all big forests, that gets taller and darker instead of deeper, with more dangerous animals living further out in the forest. A person decides to cross the Mariana Trench | It was a subtle shift. I didn’t see it so much as feel it. The forest didn’t get darker, merely got heavier, the silence, deeper. Night fell. There was no wind. How could there be? The trees were monolithic. Each trunk was twice as thick again as I could run in five minutes, their branches spanning the sky, each leaf blotting out more of the sun, mingling with its neighbour, an unmoving canopy that roofed the world far above my head.
A noise broke the silence, the sound of a snapping twig. I halted, thrusting my torch higher in the air, to the left of my eyes. The flames burned brightly, but did not reveal the source. If I had to fight, I would, though running was the better option. Many things lived in this forest. Things that could rip me to shreds without a modest effort. I would not fall because a sword had hampered my escape. I dropped into a crouch and drew a long knife from my belt, lowering the hood of my black forest cloak.
Another sound, like the barest whisper of dry leaves across bare stone. Quickly, I smothered the torch. Blackness dropped and I heard the individual footsteps of the approaching creature. In my stoop, I crept to a hollow in one of the great roots of the nearest mountain-tree. My hand brushed the old wood, the section had been undisturbed and grown over with moss. The dampness soothed my nerves and I went prone, laying in the mud. A trickle of mud slid into my boots; mud soaked my chest and legs. I pulled my hood up again, to hide any shine from my sweat laden skin, any sound my held breath may have released. My eyes slowly adjusted in the gloom, my heart beating like mad in my chest. Shapes began to take form in the darkness.
I saw it. The beast was massive. It looked like a wolf, if a wolf had stolen its skin from the bark of a tree. Moss hung from its maw, its eyes shone a pale, acid green, and shone through the night. Teeth and fangs of stone gnashed and its bark skin stood at the hackles. It smelled me. Or the fire I had recently put out. It stepped toward me. I fought my screaming instincts. I wouldn’t run. It could have me in a second. I focused on staying still. On not breathing. On calming my wildly beating heart so that its sound would not betray me.
A great sound filled that terrible moment. Like the groaning of a falling tree. It started low and raised in pitch to a wailing high, somewhere far in the distance. The great wolf cocked its head and its ears perked forward and swivelled to locate the direction of that call. I nearly couldn’t contain myself. In that second, it looked more like a quizzical puppy, than a beast intent on devouring me. I swallowed my insane laughter and kept silent. Odd what the prospect of death will do to one’s sense of humour. The wolf stepped back, tilted its head and replied to the call in kind. The eerie, forest howl of that wolf would haunt me. The beast turned to me once more before departing, then bounded into the darkness, leaving me to silence again.
After many long minutes I rose from the nook, sheathing my blade and wiping the thick green moss from my hands and cloak. I backtracked the way I had come from, only now seeing the signs of the wolves’ territory. Paw prints in the dirt, old bones of other, smaller creatures that on first glance had looked to be thin, pale branches. Clear edge markings now made their way into my limited sight, deep claw marks in the massive trees. I was now outside the wolves’ domain. A sharp snarl filled the air and I spun about, another wolf had leaped to the top of one of the roots. It jumped again and landed in front of me, hardly stirring the ground it landed on and making not a sound. It looked me in the eye. I lowered my hands. Appearing threatening would only provoke it. The beast barked and laid down on the path I had just walked from, at the very edge of its territory. A low growl filled the air and I backed away, step by step. Its shape faded into the darkness, but its quick eyes followed me until I backed into the root of another tree.
I turned and ran along the root until I reached the point where it penetrated the earth. I followed it back along the other side, hoping it would lead to a hollow. To somewhere I could sleep, safe from the horrors of the night. When I reached the base of the tree, I was in luck. I crawled into the space, too small for most animals this deep in the forest to fit. Inside there was a pool in the center, fed by a trickle from the ceiling, that in turn drained into a crack on the other side, likely going on to feed a root of the behemoth tree. | The endless forest rolled out ahead and into the void, under the starless dark. Little trees at first, where the sandy beach became soil, became bushy undergrowth. From there, the pillars grew taller, and thicker, and deeper, and darker. They were the seas in a place where salt-water found itself unwelcome.
Nothing like this resided on the land. No hill could conjure the same hollow, all-consuming sound like thunder through branch or leaf. No mountain could hope to be so untamed. These oceans, she knew, were very much alive. Kara peered over the rocky outcrop with wonder in her eyes, but no small amount of fear. Aside from an omnipresent rustle and sway, there were other sounds. Barks, roars, whales, screams. They rippled through the very ground and made her shiver.
No one knew what creatures lingered out there. Things were different under the canopy. Normal rules didn’t apply, it seemed. Creatures could grow into unimaginable shapes, some of them more terrifying than others. The only thing that was known for certain was that the deeper the forest became, the stranger the fauna. Even the plants were predatory. They had to be, in a place where no sunlight pervaded the forest floor.
Luckily, they usually stayed in their domains, away from the sanctuary that land provided. That was something to be thankful for; those who journey in never usually returned. When they did, they were usually… different. Changed in a way that was hard to put into words. There were always stories, sometimes first hand, of the trees calling out in the night. Calling, and luring in the odd child now and then.
Kara had no idea as she slept happily away, but she had practically won the lottery, as far as dreams were concerned. This world wasn’t like most others. It wasn’t a figment of her imagination, it was real. This beach, that island, the entire planet was real. This little stretch of land had even had a name, once. Guam, they had called it.
She wasn’t just looking into any old forest, but the deepest, darkest forest of them all. The Mariana Trench. An infinite blackness where even nature was too unnatural to comprehend. Nearby, there were voices shouting out. A search party? Yes. They were venturing where no one else ever would, but then again, the object of their fascination was far more important than anything that came before.
They were searching for Kara.
| |
[WP] Instead of Oceans, they are all big forests, that gets taller and darker instead of deeper, with more dangerous animals living further out in the forest. A person decides to cross the Mariana Trench | Crossing the vastly unexplored trench seemed like a good idea at the time. Imagine the headlines - world's most daring explorer.
But the darkness was absolute. The length of the trees were almost eternal. The circumference of the trees themselves would take hours to completely travel around. And that was just an estimation. Daylight is just a myth.`
The darkness was expected. I was prepared. But there was something else. The creatures. This is where prehistoric animals still exist. Creatures that haven't seen daylight since their ancestors descended through the forest to seek shelter from the apocalypse millennia's ago. Some of them have almost unprecedented sizes. You stumble across an animal so small, you can easily grab it and eat it. Then you come across animals so large, you thank whatever God you believe in that they can't see the thin prick of light illuminating the way from your hands.
I know I'm being hunted. These creatures, they can't even see. Eyes are useless at this point. The darkness is so strong, so infinite, so consuming, that nothing can see. Daylight is a myth. I estimate a creature roughly the size of a bear is coming for me. I've seen it. It's funny that a creature with no sight still has eyes so large it's almost comical. Silvery mottled skin with transparent patches. Scars cover it's body. It might be the size of a bear, but that's the only thing it has in common with a bear. The jagged teeth so sharp and so irregularly placed that they have cut through the creature's cheeks on an almost daily basis.
I am going to die.
The sweeping winds mask my scent, but only hasten my death. Even the trees cannot shelter me, for the wind seems to come from every direction. I was not prepared for this. The cold, cold so bad it simply hurts where it touches. Cold so horrific your bones are cold. To feel it in your bones...
This will be my last entry in my video journal. My final moments on this Earth will be spent alone, in the cold and the dark. Daylight is a myth. Even my flash light will only illuminate the way so far. The darkness simply consumes it.
I can see the creature. It has been standing there since I've started, close enough for the flash light to reflect off its eyes. Why has it been waiting? More important, how does it know where I am when it can't see?
| The endless forest rolled out ahead and into the void, under the starless dark. Little trees at first, where the sandy beach became soil, became bushy undergrowth. From there, the pillars grew taller, and thicker, and deeper, and darker. They were the seas in a place where salt-water found itself unwelcome.
Nothing like this resided on the land. No hill could conjure the same hollow, all-consuming sound like thunder through branch or leaf. No mountain could hope to be so untamed. These oceans, she knew, were very much alive. Kara peered over the rocky outcrop with wonder in her eyes, but no small amount of fear. Aside from an omnipresent rustle and sway, there were other sounds. Barks, roars, whales, screams. They rippled through the very ground and made her shiver.
No one knew what creatures lingered out there. Things were different under the canopy. Normal rules didn’t apply, it seemed. Creatures could grow into unimaginable shapes, some of them more terrifying than others. The only thing that was known for certain was that the deeper the forest became, the stranger the fauna. Even the plants were predatory. They had to be, in a place where no sunlight pervaded the forest floor.
Luckily, they usually stayed in their domains, away from the sanctuary that land provided. That was something to be thankful for; those who journey in never usually returned. When they did, they were usually… different. Changed in a way that was hard to put into words. There were always stories, sometimes first hand, of the trees calling out in the night. Calling, and luring in the odd child now and then.
Kara had no idea as she slept happily away, but she had practically won the lottery, as far as dreams were concerned. This world wasn’t like most others. It wasn’t a figment of her imagination, it was real. This beach, that island, the entire planet was real. This little stretch of land had even had a name, once. Guam, they had called it.
She wasn’t just looking into any old forest, but the deepest, darkest forest of them all. The Mariana Trench. An infinite blackness where even nature was too unnatural to comprehend. Nearby, there were voices shouting out. A search party? Yes. They were venturing where no one else ever would, but then again, the object of their fascination was far more important than anything that came before.
They were searching for Kara.
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[WP] Instead of Oceans, they are all big forests, that gets taller and darker instead of deeper, with more dangerous animals living further out in the forest. A person decides to cross the Mariana Trench | Few men have ever tried to cross the Mariana jungle. Those who have are yet to return. While they tell me i'll die, I know I'm gonna be the first to do it.
The trees aren't too tall on the eastern coast of the Philippines, but you can't look far into the horizons before the looming wooden pillars block the sun. My cameraman is at my side, a nervous look on his face. The people at the beach are staring, I can't blame them considering what we're wearing. Our forest navigation gear and large backpacks don't match the local style much.
"Ready?" I ask Tom. He looks back at me, "As ready as I'll ever be, I suppose".
We make our way towards the trees. They're spread out for now, few shrubs stand in our path. The muddy earth already sticks to our boots, but I can't be hindered by dirt. I march on, Tom close behind.
"What are you expecting to find?" He asks, looking back at the beach. "Whatever it is that's killed those before us, I hope. We'll be the first to bring back it's bones!" I can tell my determined look scares him. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't shitting my pants, but this expedition will prove valuable to ecologists around the globe.
We carry rifles, but my main weapon will be my flood light. The animals out there won't be used to anything that bright, if I'm right it should scare them off, while lighting them up perfectly for some pictures. The air is already fairly thin, and it's getting darker every hour we march on. I talk little to Tom, I've never been one for small talk and I know he doesn't mind. The silence is calming to me. A few monkeys crawl around the trees, meters high by now, but we aren't nearly deep enough in yet to worry about wildlife. We came for that which no man has seen before, we haven't even made a new record for deepest expedition yet.
We march on, as the leaves grow denser and sunlight becomes rarer. We soon switch to our lights, and the roots and shrubs make the ground hard to walk on.
"It's been six hours." Tom says after countless silent steps. "It's already ten o clock." Not having sun messes with your sense of time more than I expected. It seemed like it had only been an hour ago since we left the coast. "Alright" I reply, walking on. "When do you want to take a break?". "About now actually" he says, stopping. "I'm already hungry."
"We only have food for three weeks, we aren't even half way yet." It's cruel, but the forest is crueler. We need to ration our supplies if we want to make it. "Can you wait another hour or two?" I keep walking, and he soon is forced to catch up. "Fair enough..." He's tired, I know. So am I, but sleeping will slow is down too much. It has to wait.
And we march on. | The endless forest rolled out ahead and into the void, under the starless dark. Little trees at first, where the sandy beach became soil, became bushy undergrowth. From there, the pillars grew taller, and thicker, and deeper, and darker. They were the seas in a place where salt-water found itself unwelcome.
Nothing like this resided on the land. No hill could conjure the same hollow, all-consuming sound like thunder through branch or leaf. No mountain could hope to be so untamed. These oceans, she knew, were very much alive. Kara peered over the rocky outcrop with wonder in her eyes, but no small amount of fear. Aside from an omnipresent rustle and sway, there were other sounds. Barks, roars, whales, screams. They rippled through the very ground and made her shiver.
No one knew what creatures lingered out there. Things were different under the canopy. Normal rules didn’t apply, it seemed. Creatures could grow into unimaginable shapes, some of them more terrifying than others. The only thing that was known for certain was that the deeper the forest became, the stranger the fauna. Even the plants were predatory. They had to be, in a place where no sunlight pervaded the forest floor.
Luckily, they usually stayed in their domains, away from the sanctuary that land provided. That was something to be thankful for; those who journey in never usually returned. When they did, they were usually… different. Changed in a way that was hard to put into words. There were always stories, sometimes first hand, of the trees calling out in the night. Calling, and luring in the odd child now and then.
Kara had no idea as she slept happily away, but she had practically won the lottery, as far as dreams were concerned. This world wasn’t like most others. It wasn’t a figment of her imagination, it was real. This beach, that island, the entire planet was real. This little stretch of land had even had a name, once. Guam, they had called it.
She wasn’t just looking into any old forest, but the deepest, darkest forest of them all. The Mariana Trench. An infinite blackness where even nature was too unnatural to comprehend. Nearby, there were voices shouting out. A search party? Yes. They were venturing where no one else ever would, but then again, the object of their fascination was far more important than anything that came before.
They were searching for Kara.
| |
[WP] Instead of Oceans, they are all big forests, that gets taller and darker instead of deeper, with more dangerous animals living further out in the forest. A person decides to cross the Mariana Trench | Cool wind whipped around my body, blowing my hood off and exposing my head to the freezing air. My numb fingers passed my numbing ears, and reclaimed the hood, pulling it around me once more. It hardly offered respite from the cold. The most insulating fabrics on my body felt diaphanous in those conditions.
We were deep. Deeper than any man had ever been. The trees around us stretched inexorably upwards, endlessly high, creeping towards the sunlight and claiming it all for themselves. The path behind us was visible only when illuminated by the beams of our flashlights and the path before us did not yet exist. We wordlessly hacked our way through the thick underbrush, winding a serpentine route through the increasingly arduous terrain. The off-road vehicle carrying our supplies and sleeping quarters lurched slowly behind me.
There were four of us, myself and three others. Four of the most seasoned explorers of forest regions in the world- Cook, Magellan, Vespucci, and Columbus, you might have called us, had you looked towards the famous tales of seafaring explorers for inspiration. Our story, however, was not one of fiction. The seventy percent of the earth covered by these dense woodlands remained largely unexplored, and our intent was to conquer the largest of the unexplored, the Marianas Trench. Over fifteen hundred miles deep, the trench was the lowest point on earth, and contained creatures so strange and gruesome, some say it must have stretched deep enough to crack into hell itself and free the demons from their fiery prison.
Hulbert was our leader, a tall man with a large mustache, offset by his mostly bald head. He and I were typically in front, snaking our way through the undergrowth like a scouting party behind enemy lines. Iaquinta, Hulbert’s antithesis, a short, tanned man with a thick shock of black hair, could often be found behind the wheel, and Ulrich, lanky young man with blond hair, spent most of his time substituting in for Hulbert or I, when one of us acquiesced a break.
We made slow progress initially, but after about one day, our party hit its stride, and we began moving at a steady rate. We had anticipated smooth sailing, however plans rarely go as expected, and ours was no exception.
| The endless forest rolled out ahead and into the void, under the starless dark. Little trees at first, where the sandy beach became soil, became bushy undergrowth. From there, the pillars grew taller, and thicker, and deeper, and darker. They were the seas in a place where salt-water found itself unwelcome.
Nothing like this resided on the land. No hill could conjure the same hollow, all-consuming sound like thunder through branch or leaf. No mountain could hope to be so untamed. These oceans, she knew, were very much alive. Kara peered over the rocky outcrop with wonder in her eyes, but no small amount of fear. Aside from an omnipresent rustle and sway, there were other sounds. Barks, roars, whales, screams. They rippled through the very ground and made her shiver.
No one knew what creatures lingered out there. Things were different under the canopy. Normal rules didn’t apply, it seemed. Creatures could grow into unimaginable shapes, some of them more terrifying than others. The only thing that was known for certain was that the deeper the forest became, the stranger the fauna. Even the plants were predatory. They had to be, in a place where no sunlight pervaded the forest floor.
Luckily, they usually stayed in their domains, away from the sanctuary that land provided. That was something to be thankful for; those who journey in never usually returned. When they did, they were usually… different. Changed in a way that was hard to put into words. There were always stories, sometimes first hand, of the trees calling out in the night. Calling, and luring in the odd child now and then.
Kara had no idea as she slept happily away, but she had practically won the lottery, as far as dreams were concerned. This world wasn’t like most others. It wasn’t a figment of her imagination, it was real. This beach, that island, the entire planet was real. This little stretch of land had even had a name, once. Guam, they had called it.
She wasn’t just looking into any old forest, but the deepest, darkest forest of them all. The Mariana Trench. An infinite blackness where even nature was too unnatural to comprehend. Nearby, there were voices shouting out. A search party? Yes. They were venturing where no one else ever would, but then again, the object of their fascination was far more important than anything that came before.
They were searching for Kara.
| |
[WP] Instead of Oceans, they are all big forests, that gets taller and darker instead of deeper, with more dangerous animals living further out in the forest. A person decides to cross the Mariana Trench | The conquistador stopped in his tracks. Before him, the vast endless forest lay before him.
He paused for a breath, as if he was taking a plunge. This was it. There was no turning back now. From here on, the only way was down.
The conquistador, walked along the tight trodden path down a steep decline. Behind him was a small 20-man company of lightly armoured soldiers, carefully following his every step.
Around them, the forest was thick and impenetrable – the path being the welcome exception. All around the men were sounds of life – birds singing, rustle of leaves blowing in the wind. The searing sun illuminated their path between the sparse trees.
To the uninitiated, the forest seemed like any normal one. Yet the ominous nature of it was not lost on any of the travelers.
The conquistador, Ferdinand Pizarro, knew what the maps had labeled this forest as: The Great Forest. This was the great uncharted territory. Nothing was shown here on the maps but it‘s outline.
No one had ever traveled more than a few days down. No one – until, hopefully, now. The secrets of the forest, and hopefully vast riches, would finally come to bear.
But it wasn‘t it‘s secrets that worried him.
He knew what local village called it: The Void. It was an unholy place. For centuries it was strictly forbidden to travel even to the border of the forest at nightfall. Those who did, often told stories of unusual encounters with terrible creatures with many legs or several eyes.
Those who dared to even venture into the forest never ventured particularly deep – and of those who did, if they came back at all, seemingly lost their mind.
Every villager knew countless stories of the sights those poor people claim to have witnessed: strange beasts flying in the air, and a darkness that made the night sky seem like a welcome sun, or terrible growling sounds emanating from deep within.
Ferdinand took off his helmet and put it into the carriage; the sweat was piling up. He himself was no stranger to travel. After all, it was him who was personally selected by the Queen to lead this mission. The Queen had heard of other heads of state starting to explore their nearby forests, each as unexplored as the last. Some went disastrously, with the mission never to be seen again. But some, particularly the short ones, were successful beyond their wildest dreams, even finding new lands on the other side.
It was easy to select Ferdinand – a world traveler, a veteran of war, and a renowned figure in the whole of Spain.
His skills were needed to the utmost now, however. God may have helped him fight against his human enemies, but what of the foe who is unknown, unpredictable, even incomprehensible? How will the almighty protect him against such a monster? He prayed that he may escape this trial alive, yet quitting was not an option.
The hours passed. The men, loyal to him, showed no signs of weariness.
However, the ground had quickly became harsher. The green forest growth was now few and far between. Ferdinand could now see between the trees, and at certain angles eve somewhat far ahead.
However, darkness was creeping in.
The tree stems had grown larger, supporting the mostly naked stems, who reached hundreds of metres into the air, ending in a small, green, glittery collection of leaves high above. Some sunbeams managed to break in down below, further accentuating the dim space the mission was now in.
Suddenly, Ferdinand stopped dead in his tracks and stared ahead of him.
„Men, stop!“. The sound of the horse‘s clattering and the men‘s sporadic chatter died down.
„Silence!“. The forest had now died down to the point that there was absolute silence, outside of faint bird songs in the skies above them.
„What is the matter, sir?“ A man dressed similarly to Ferdinand, but with a lower ranking insignia, walked up to him.
„I could swear I heard a voice in the distance.“
„That‘s impossible, sir. No one is here but us.“ Christopher, Ferdinand‘s right hand, skimmed the area in front of him.
Suddenly, he heard it too. A faint call in the distance before them: „Help! Please!“
Ferdinand sprints ahead. Christopher follows him, telling the men: „Onwards, quickly!“
However, as Christopher saw Ferdinand running far ahead of him, he couldn‘t help but to suspect something strange about the voice. He saw the pitch-black darkness in the distance and felt an unease he thought long forgotten.
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| The endless forest rolled out ahead and into the void, under the starless dark. Little trees at first, where the sandy beach became soil, became bushy undergrowth. From there, the pillars grew taller, and thicker, and deeper, and darker. They were the seas in a place where salt-water found itself unwelcome.
Nothing like this resided on the land. No hill could conjure the same hollow, all-consuming sound like thunder through branch or leaf. No mountain could hope to be so untamed. These oceans, she knew, were very much alive. Kara peered over the rocky outcrop with wonder in her eyes, but no small amount of fear. Aside from an omnipresent rustle and sway, there were other sounds. Barks, roars, whales, screams. They rippled through the very ground and made her shiver.
No one knew what creatures lingered out there. Things were different under the canopy. Normal rules didn’t apply, it seemed. Creatures could grow into unimaginable shapes, some of them more terrifying than others. The only thing that was known for certain was that the deeper the forest became, the stranger the fauna. Even the plants were predatory. They had to be, in a place where no sunlight pervaded the forest floor.
Luckily, they usually stayed in their domains, away from the sanctuary that land provided. That was something to be thankful for; those who journey in never usually returned. When they did, they were usually… different. Changed in a way that was hard to put into words. There were always stories, sometimes first hand, of the trees calling out in the night. Calling, and luring in the odd child now and then.
Kara had no idea as she slept happily away, but she had practically won the lottery, as far as dreams were concerned. This world wasn’t like most others. It wasn’t a figment of her imagination, it was real. This beach, that island, the entire planet was real. This little stretch of land had even had a name, once. Guam, they had called it.
She wasn’t just looking into any old forest, but the deepest, darkest forest of them all. The Mariana Trench. An infinite blackness where even nature was too unnatural to comprehend. Nearby, there were voices shouting out. A search party? Yes. They were venturing where no one else ever would, but then again, the object of their fascination was far more important than anything that came before.
They were searching for Kara.
| |
[WP] Instead of Oceans, they are all big forests, that gets taller and darker instead of deeper, with more dangerous animals living further out in the forest. A person decides to cross the Mariana Trench | Few men have ever tried to cross the Mariana jungle. Those who have are yet to return. While they tell me i'll die, I know I'm gonna be the first to do it.
The trees aren't too tall on the eastern coast of the Philippines, but you can't look far into the horizons before the looming wooden pillars block the sun. My cameraman is at my side, a nervous look on his face. The people at the beach are staring, I can't blame them considering what we're wearing. Our forest navigation gear and large backpacks don't match the local style much.
"Ready?" I ask Tom. He looks back at me, "As ready as I'll ever be, I suppose".
We make our way towards the trees. They're spread out for now, few shrubs stand in our path. The muddy earth already sticks to our boots, but I can't be hindered by dirt. I march on, Tom close behind.
"What are you expecting to find?" He asks, looking back at the beach. "Whatever it is that's killed those before us, I hope. We'll be the first to bring back it's bones!" I can tell my determined look scares him. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't shitting my pants, but this expedition will prove valuable to ecologists around the globe.
We carry rifles, but my main weapon will be my flood light. The animals out there won't be used to anything that bright, if I'm right it should scare them off, while lighting them up perfectly for some pictures. The air is already fairly thin, and it's getting darker every hour we march on. I talk little to Tom, I've never been one for small talk and I know he doesn't mind. The silence is calming to me. A few monkeys crawl around the trees, meters high by now, but we aren't nearly deep enough in yet to worry about wildlife. We came for that which no man has seen before, we haven't even made a new record for deepest expedition yet.
We march on, as the leaves grow denser and sunlight becomes rarer. We soon switch to our lights, and the roots and shrubs make the ground hard to walk on.
"It's been six hours." Tom says after countless silent steps. "It's already ten o clock." Not having sun messes with your sense of time more than I expected. It seemed like it had only been an hour ago since we left the coast. "Alright" I reply, walking on. "When do you want to take a break?". "About now actually" he says, stopping. "I'm already hungry."
"We only have food for three weeks, we aren't even half way yet." It's cruel, but the forest is crueler. We need to ration our supplies if we want to make it. "Can you wait another hour or two?" I keep walking, and he soon is forced to catch up. "Fair enough..." He's tired, I know. So am I, but sleeping will slow is down too much. It has to wait.
And we march on. | DAY 5
I don’t know why I did it. I thought I did, but now I’m not sure. Cold, wet, silent. Not a drop of sun to warm the bones. The black maw before me eagerly consumes the light from my tiny headlamp.
Why did I come here … alone?
The air thickens on the descent. Repulsive odors ooze from the slimy walls. How can anything live down here? It is a bottomless well of fearful specters. How can I even begin to describe the trees? Godlike in their immensity, they have stood for ages in the deepest places. They frighten me, in truth. I feel them groan and imagine their anger at my trespass.
I camp the first night on a ledge about a third of the way down the east slope. Though to call it night might be presumptuous. Here, night is eternal. No, I sleep because I am bone-tired after hours of hiking and belaying -- and because of the noises. Starting as a low, distant hum, they drifted undifferentiated through the ancient arbor.
Now though, as I make my way further down, an eerie din is rising. I hear cackles, whistles, reptilian croaking, each sound never heard by human ears before. This cacophony is the song of hell, and I dare not enter the gates tired and unprepared.
Tomorrow, God willing, I will reach the bottom. | |
[WP] Instead of Oceans, they are all big forests, that gets taller and darker instead of deeper, with more dangerous animals living further out in the forest. A person decides to cross the Mariana Trench | Cool wind whipped around my body, blowing my hood off and exposing my head to the freezing air. My numb fingers passed my numbing ears, and reclaimed the hood, pulling it around me once more. It hardly offered respite from the cold. The most insulating fabrics on my body felt diaphanous in those conditions.
We were deep. Deeper than any man had ever been. The trees around us stretched inexorably upwards, endlessly high, creeping towards the sunlight and claiming it all for themselves. The path behind us was visible only when illuminated by the beams of our flashlights and the path before us did not yet exist. We wordlessly hacked our way through the thick underbrush, winding a serpentine route through the increasingly arduous terrain. The off-road vehicle carrying our supplies and sleeping quarters lurched slowly behind me.
There were four of us, myself and three others. Four of the most seasoned explorers of forest regions in the world- Cook, Magellan, Vespucci, and Columbus, you might have called us, had you looked towards the famous tales of seafaring explorers for inspiration. Our story, however, was not one of fiction. The seventy percent of the earth covered by these dense woodlands remained largely unexplored, and our intent was to conquer the largest of the unexplored, the Marianas Trench. Over fifteen hundred miles deep, the trench was the lowest point on earth, and contained creatures so strange and gruesome, some say it must have stretched deep enough to crack into hell itself and free the demons from their fiery prison.
Hulbert was our leader, a tall man with a large mustache, offset by his mostly bald head. He and I were typically in front, snaking our way through the undergrowth like a scouting party behind enemy lines. Iaquinta, Hulbert’s antithesis, a short, tanned man with a thick shock of black hair, could often be found behind the wheel, and Ulrich, lanky young man with blond hair, spent most of his time substituting in for Hulbert or I, when one of us acquiesced a break.
We made slow progress initially, but after about one day, our party hit its stride, and we began moving at a steady rate. We had anticipated smooth sailing, however plans rarely go as expected, and ours was no exception.
| DAY 5
I don’t know why I did it. I thought I did, but now I’m not sure. Cold, wet, silent. Not a drop of sun to warm the bones. The black maw before me eagerly consumes the light from my tiny headlamp.
Why did I come here … alone?
The air thickens on the descent. Repulsive odors ooze from the slimy walls. How can anything live down here? It is a bottomless well of fearful specters. How can I even begin to describe the trees? Godlike in their immensity, they have stood for ages in the deepest places. They frighten me, in truth. I feel them groan and imagine their anger at my trespass.
I camp the first night on a ledge about a third of the way down the east slope. Though to call it night might be presumptuous. Here, night is eternal. No, I sleep because I am bone-tired after hours of hiking and belaying -- and because of the noises. Starting as a low, distant hum, they drifted undifferentiated through the ancient arbor.
Now though, as I make my way further down, an eerie din is rising. I hear cackles, whistles, reptilian croaking, each sound never heard by human ears before. This cacophony is the song of hell, and I dare not enter the gates tired and unprepared.
Tomorrow, God willing, I will reach the bottom. | |
[WP] Instead of Oceans, they are all big forests, that gets taller and darker instead of deeper, with more dangerous animals living further out in the forest. A person decides to cross the Mariana Trench | Few men have ever tried to cross the Mariana jungle. Those who have are yet to return. While they tell me i'll die, I know I'm gonna be the first to do it.
The trees aren't too tall on the eastern coast of the Philippines, but you can't look far into the horizons before the looming wooden pillars block the sun. My cameraman is at my side, a nervous look on his face. The people at the beach are staring, I can't blame them considering what we're wearing. Our forest navigation gear and large backpacks don't match the local style much.
"Ready?" I ask Tom. He looks back at me, "As ready as I'll ever be, I suppose".
We make our way towards the trees. They're spread out for now, few shrubs stand in our path. The muddy earth already sticks to our boots, but I can't be hindered by dirt. I march on, Tom close behind.
"What are you expecting to find?" He asks, looking back at the beach. "Whatever it is that's killed those before us, I hope. We'll be the first to bring back it's bones!" I can tell my determined look scares him. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't shitting my pants, but this expedition will prove valuable to ecologists around the globe.
We carry rifles, but my main weapon will be my flood light. The animals out there won't be used to anything that bright, if I'm right it should scare them off, while lighting them up perfectly for some pictures. The air is already fairly thin, and it's getting darker every hour we march on. I talk little to Tom, I've never been one for small talk and I know he doesn't mind. The silence is calming to me. A few monkeys crawl around the trees, meters high by now, but we aren't nearly deep enough in yet to worry about wildlife. We came for that which no man has seen before, we haven't even made a new record for deepest expedition yet.
We march on, as the leaves grow denser and sunlight becomes rarer. We soon switch to our lights, and the roots and shrubs make the ground hard to walk on.
"It's been six hours." Tom says after countless silent steps. "It's already ten o clock." Not having sun messes with your sense of time more than I expected. It seemed like it had only been an hour ago since we left the coast. "Alright" I reply, walking on. "When do you want to take a break?". "About now actually" he says, stopping. "I'm already hungry."
"We only have food for three weeks, we aren't even half way yet." It's cruel, but the forest is crueler. We need to ration our supplies if we want to make it. "Can you wait another hour or two?" I keep walking, and he soon is forced to catch up. "Fair enough..." He's tired, I know. So am I, but sleeping will slow is down too much. It has to wait.
And we march on. | It was nothing like we imagined when we were kids, nothing like the forests of civilization. We pictured endless fields of trees - not this. Some of the trees were so old that they petrified, while other equally ancient trees have grown from such depths that their roots intermingled and became one unbelievably vast dense platform akin to land. It felt more like spelunking than exploring the arboreal reaches of the outland jungles. It was so moist from the jungles penetrating the clouds, with mist sticking to everything, that the only thing stopping us from slipping and falling into the abyss was the deep moss carpet enveloping everything. We lost more than one man to a misstep, slipping off the algae-like slime and into the darkness. We lost more to the petrified woodslide into the lake; if you could even call it a lake. When petrified trees collapse they leave behind bowls instead of stumps, which fill up with water, some large enough to rival the Great Lakes.
All of this is only partially why seeing occasional glimpses of the long forsaken Roman Wall of Marianae was so incredible. We were able to make this trek because modern technology, which preserved food, kept us warm, gave us light, protected us with reactive armour, and warned us of threats with modified sonar devices. The ancient Romans sent countless legions to defile the jungles and clearcut their way down to the layers of petrified wood and then build them up into an incredible system of walls and enormous smokefire sigils. No one is sure how many died, but these walls stood for almost fifteen hundred years. Only after the great collapse of Western civilization did disuse leave them to fall into ruin. It was our secondary objective to remap the route of the wall, so that passage by use of nonavian methods would be possible. Our main objective was to document the native flora and fauna, as well as establish points of possible colonization.
We had seen almost no life of any kind, aside from various mosses and slimes. There was the occasional spider, but having been isolated from traditional evolution for so long had rendered them into something far more ghastly, with legs more than five times the length of their narrow, fang-like bodies. The largest we encountered had a body the size of a man’s face, with legs that carried it an arm’s length with each stride. The presence of a predatory creature led us to believe there must be some sort of food web here, for they couldn't survive purely off cannibalism, at least we didn't think it possible. The deeper we ventured, the more our suspicions were confirmed. We began to hear faint clicking sounds, then later scraping, and eventually alienesque calls that were so otherworldly, we doubted their authenticity as animal in origin.
We came upon a point where a great trunk rose beyond vision into what seemed like the stars, its reach so far that no buds or leaves grew on it due to the airs thinness. It was unclear to us whether or not the behemoth grew from the deep within the abysm below or from the organic plateau we stood upon. Regardless to our knowledge, thick choking roots erupted out all around us and had been slowly crushing the life out of surrounding trees in their search for sturdy anchors and nutrients. The area with the greatest density of root growth had a gaping hole, with which a small stream of gathered moister had been finding easiest to plunge into darkness. From the left hand side we saw very little, thanks to what seemed to be the remains of another once titanic tree, littered with growth from new trees, moss, and what appeared to be the ruins of another Roman structure. It seemed as if the building had been sited over the chasm below, in an attempt to blockade it. Ironically, it now was a gateway with which many a tree used to reach from deep below. The only truly still untouched part was a portion of the facade, which was propped up an aged tree and cemented to the psuedoland by moss, read SPQ and had half of an eagle and wreath. The right hand side was simply an endless sea of blackness, in what could very well have been one of the largest bodies of water in the world. The waters emptiness and stillness was only interrupted by the occasional mangrove piercing the surface. We had no choice but to follow the stream into the maw of the tree before us.
____
~~I have to go, so I'll continue later.~~
I ended up really liking this prompt, so I made [this](http://www.reddit.com/r/Marianae) subreddit to continue it there. If you liked my response, then check out my sub because there will be updates there often. | |
[WP] Instead of Oceans, they are all big forests, that gets taller and darker instead of deeper, with more dangerous animals living further out in the forest. A person decides to cross the Mariana Trench | Cool wind whipped around my body, blowing my hood off and exposing my head to the freezing air. My numb fingers passed my numbing ears, and reclaimed the hood, pulling it around me once more. It hardly offered respite from the cold. The most insulating fabrics on my body felt diaphanous in those conditions.
We were deep. Deeper than any man had ever been. The trees around us stretched inexorably upwards, endlessly high, creeping towards the sunlight and claiming it all for themselves. The path behind us was visible only when illuminated by the beams of our flashlights and the path before us did not yet exist. We wordlessly hacked our way through the thick underbrush, winding a serpentine route through the increasingly arduous terrain. The off-road vehicle carrying our supplies and sleeping quarters lurched slowly behind me.
There were four of us, myself and three others. Four of the most seasoned explorers of forest regions in the world- Cook, Magellan, Vespucci, and Columbus, you might have called us, had you looked towards the famous tales of seafaring explorers for inspiration. Our story, however, was not one of fiction. The seventy percent of the earth covered by these dense woodlands remained largely unexplored, and our intent was to conquer the largest of the unexplored, the Marianas Trench. Over fifteen hundred miles deep, the trench was the lowest point on earth, and contained creatures so strange and gruesome, some say it must have stretched deep enough to crack into hell itself and free the demons from their fiery prison.
Hulbert was our leader, a tall man with a large mustache, offset by his mostly bald head. He and I were typically in front, snaking our way through the undergrowth like a scouting party behind enemy lines. Iaquinta, Hulbert’s antithesis, a short, tanned man with a thick shock of black hair, could often be found behind the wheel, and Ulrich, lanky young man with blond hair, spent most of his time substituting in for Hulbert or I, when one of us acquiesced a break.
We made slow progress initially, but after about one day, our party hit its stride, and we began moving at a steady rate. We had anticipated smooth sailing, however plans rarely go as expected, and ours was no exception.
| It was nothing like we imagined when we were kids, nothing like the forests of civilization. We pictured endless fields of trees - not this. Some of the trees were so old that they petrified, while other equally ancient trees have grown from such depths that their roots intermingled and became one unbelievably vast dense platform akin to land. It felt more like spelunking than exploring the arboreal reaches of the outland jungles. It was so moist from the jungles penetrating the clouds, with mist sticking to everything, that the only thing stopping us from slipping and falling into the abyss was the deep moss carpet enveloping everything. We lost more than one man to a misstep, slipping off the algae-like slime and into the darkness. We lost more to the petrified woodslide into the lake; if you could even call it a lake. When petrified trees collapse they leave behind bowls instead of stumps, which fill up with water, some large enough to rival the Great Lakes.
All of this is only partially why seeing occasional glimpses of the long forsaken Roman Wall of Marianae was so incredible. We were able to make this trek because modern technology, which preserved food, kept us warm, gave us light, protected us with reactive armour, and warned us of threats with modified sonar devices. The ancient Romans sent countless legions to defile the jungles and clearcut their way down to the layers of petrified wood and then build them up into an incredible system of walls and enormous smokefire sigils. No one is sure how many died, but these walls stood for almost fifteen hundred years. Only after the great collapse of Western civilization did disuse leave them to fall into ruin. It was our secondary objective to remap the route of the wall, so that passage by use of nonavian methods would be possible. Our main objective was to document the native flora and fauna, as well as establish points of possible colonization.
We had seen almost no life of any kind, aside from various mosses and slimes. There was the occasional spider, but having been isolated from traditional evolution for so long had rendered them into something far more ghastly, with legs more than five times the length of their narrow, fang-like bodies. The largest we encountered had a body the size of a man’s face, with legs that carried it an arm’s length with each stride. The presence of a predatory creature led us to believe there must be some sort of food web here, for they couldn't survive purely off cannibalism, at least we didn't think it possible. The deeper we ventured, the more our suspicions were confirmed. We began to hear faint clicking sounds, then later scraping, and eventually alienesque calls that were so otherworldly, we doubted their authenticity as animal in origin.
We came upon a point where a great trunk rose beyond vision into what seemed like the stars, its reach so far that no buds or leaves grew on it due to the airs thinness. It was unclear to us whether or not the behemoth grew from the deep within the abysm below or from the organic plateau we stood upon. Regardless to our knowledge, thick choking roots erupted out all around us and had been slowly crushing the life out of surrounding trees in their search for sturdy anchors and nutrients. The area with the greatest density of root growth had a gaping hole, with which a small stream of gathered moister had been finding easiest to plunge into darkness. From the left hand side we saw very little, thanks to what seemed to be the remains of another once titanic tree, littered with growth from new trees, moss, and what appeared to be the ruins of another Roman structure. It seemed as if the building had been sited over the chasm below, in an attempt to blockade it. Ironically, it now was a gateway with which many a tree used to reach from deep below. The only truly still untouched part was a portion of the facade, which was propped up an aged tree and cemented to the psuedoland by moss, read SPQ and had half of an eagle and wreath. The right hand side was simply an endless sea of blackness, in what could very well have been one of the largest bodies of water in the world. The waters emptiness and stillness was only interrupted by the occasional mangrove piercing the surface. We had no choice but to follow the stream into the maw of the tree before us.
____
~~I have to go, so I'll continue later.~~
I ended up really liking this prompt, so I made [this](http://www.reddit.com/r/Marianae) subreddit to continue it there. If you liked my response, then check out my sub because there will be updates there often. | |
[WP] Instead of Oceans, they are all big forests, that gets taller and darker instead of deeper, with more dangerous animals living further out in the forest. A person decides to cross the Mariana Trench | Few men have ever tried to cross the Mariana jungle. Those who have are yet to return. While they tell me i'll die, I know I'm gonna be the first to do it.
The trees aren't too tall on the eastern coast of the Philippines, but you can't look far into the horizons before the looming wooden pillars block the sun. My cameraman is at my side, a nervous look on his face. The people at the beach are staring, I can't blame them considering what we're wearing. Our forest navigation gear and large backpacks don't match the local style much.
"Ready?" I ask Tom. He looks back at me, "As ready as I'll ever be, I suppose".
We make our way towards the trees. They're spread out for now, few shrubs stand in our path. The muddy earth already sticks to our boots, but I can't be hindered by dirt. I march on, Tom close behind.
"What are you expecting to find?" He asks, looking back at the beach. "Whatever it is that's killed those before us, I hope. We'll be the first to bring back it's bones!" I can tell my determined look scares him. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't shitting my pants, but this expedition will prove valuable to ecologists around the globe.
We carry rifles, but my main weapon will be my flood light. The animals out there won't be used to anything that bright, if I'm right it should scare them off, while lighting them up perfectly for some pictures. The air is already fairly thin, and it's getting darker every hour we march on. I talk little to Tom, I've never been one for small talk and I know he doesn't mind. The silence is calming to me. A few monkeys crawl around the trees, meters high by now, but we aren't nearly deep enough in yet to worry about wildlife. We came for that which no man has seen before, we haven't even made a new record for deepest expedition yet.
We march on, as the leaves grow denser and sunlight becomes rarer. We soon switch to our lights, and the roots and shrubs make the ground hard to walk on.
"It's been six hours." Tom says after countless silent steps. "It's already ten o clock." Not having sun messes with your sense of time more than I expected. It seemed like it had only been an hour ago since we left the coast. "Alright" I reply, walking on. "When do you want to take a break?". "About now actually" he says, stopping. "I'm already hungry."
"We only have food for three weeks, we aren't even half way yet." It's cruel, but the forest is crueler. We need to ration our supplies if we want to make it. "Can you wait another hour or two?" I keep walking, and he soon is forced to catch up. "Fair enough..." He's tired, I know. So am I, but sleeping will slow is down too much. It has to wait.
And we march on. | First submission, hope you all like this tale from the discoverer of the Challenger Deep:
Our pack Trilobite was carrying our atmospheric gear. The stubborn beast was having no difficulty navigating the massive root structure that made up the forest floor. Oxygen levels were approximately 65%, water vapor 20% Nitrogen 14% with trace gases making up the final 1%; with atmospheric pressure in the Oceanosphere being 2.6k psi at our current location. The atmosphere crushing compared to that of the Troposphere's 14.5 psi. Our carbon fiber pressure suits were constantly shifting against the weight of the wet mists. The oxidization decay of our supplies had yet to outpace our replacement parts stored neatly in nitrogen rich pressure neutral bins.
No team had managed to penetrate the Marianosphere. Our best guess is that pressure reaches as high as 15k psi. We plan to be the first to cross it by foot. Our carbon fiber exoskeletons compressed under the pressure, but was constructed in a way to disperse the pressure and strengthen the suit.
The light of our expedition radiated meters into the soupy mists that surrounded us. Our scouts were out of sight laying the trail of atmosphere measuring tools that created our early warning system. We had already lost Raymond and Timus to what was initially mossy bark and tree branches. The insect had adaptive skin reminding me of the Cephalopods discovered in the Atlantic Forest. I was terrified seeing the beast snatch the two veteran scouts and vanish. We now stabbed every root we approached. We watched the atmospheric monitors seeking changes in pressure, the couple seconds warning could be the difference between survival.
Insects the size of houses rumbled in the distance. Most were vegetarian; they kept the moss from choking out the giants of the Pacific Forest. It was rare to find a carnivorous fauna at these depths, but the ferocity of the creatures was apparent. Humans were no longer the top of the food chain.
*Clunk*
A scout's air hose went taut.
*Vrrrr*
The hose began reeling out with speed.
*Pfffffft*
The pressure gauge indicating the scout, Randal, began to shift dramatically back to neutral. In response the hose attached to our Trilobite disconnected. The expedition halted in anticipation. Weapons were brought to the ready. I refused the idea that I would die here. I watched the gauges to see what was approaching our group, but it seemed whatever had happened wasn't coming closer.
Five minutes passed before one of the remaining scouts returned to us with a report.
"Dr. Challenger!"
"Simon?"
"Doctor, we reached a ledge. It seems Randal didn't notice in time, and went over."
Relief washed over me, and the expedition. Followed by momentary sadness for Randal. I was the hit by a wave of euphoria.
"A ledge?"
"We don't know how deep it may be, but since Randal disappeared I guess it's better to say cliff."
"None of our maps have any mention of cliffs aside from those of the trench." I was astounded, we officially made it further than any surviving expedition.
*Clunk*
*Vrrrr*
*Clunk*
*Vrrrr*
*Pfffffft*
The hoses to the scouts were being ripped away at speed. The gauges were resetting. The fail safes began activating detaching nearly every man ahead of the bubble of light. The color in my face drained to match the pallid fog. Every man backed away from the boundary; weapons ready. Something began approaching from the path of the scouts. Whatever got them was coming for us.
Simon approached the front, his weapon ready. The warning system gave him the reactionary time he needed to survive the attack. The creature could only be described as a giant worm. It lashed out , but I think the lights gave us an edge blinding it's sensory capabilities. The battle was quick, lacking the element of surprise that allowed it to take the scouts the worm was no match for our readied defenses.
Once our Trilobite was encouraged to continue plodding forward; I began the sequence on our atmospheric control system recalling our scouts and rear guard. It was time to evaluate the cliff ahead of us and begin our plunge into the Marianosphere. The excitement I felt squashed any considerations for the deaths of the scouts. | |
[WP] Instead of Oceans, they are all big forests, that gets taller and darker instead of deeper, with more dangerous animals living further out in the forest. A person decides to cross the Mariana Trench | Cool wind whipped around my body, blowing my hood off and exposing my head to the freezing air. My numb fingers passed my numbing ears, and reclaimed the hood, pulling it around me once more. It hardly offered respite from the cold. The most insulating fabrics on my body felt diaphanous in those conditions.
We were deep. Deeper than any man had ever been. The trees around us stretched inexorably upwards, endlessly high, creeping towards the sunlight and claiming it all for themselves. The path behind us was visible only when illuminated by the beams of our flashlights and the path before us did not yet exist. We wordlessly hacked our way through the thick underbrush, winding a serpentine route through the increasingly arduous terrain. The off-road vehicle carrying our supplies and sleeping quarters lurched slowly behind me.
There were four of us, myself and three others. Four of the most seasoned explorers of forest regions in the world- Cook, Magellan, Vespucci, and Columbus, you might have called us, had you looked towards the famous tales of seafaring explorers for inspiration. Our story, however, was not one of fiction. The seventy percent of the earth covered by these dense woodlands remained largely unexplored, and our intent was to conquer the largest of the unexplored, the Marianas Trench. Over fifteen hundred miles deep, the trench was the lowest point on earth, and contained creatures so strange and gruesome, some say it must have stretched deep enough to crack into hell itself and free the demons from their fiery prison.
Hulbert was our leader, a tall man with a large mustache, offset by his mostly bald head. He and I were typically in front, snaking our way through the undergrowth like a scouting party behind enemy lines. Iaquinta, Hulbert’s antithesis, a short, tanned man with a thick shock of black hair, could often be found behind the wheel, and Ulrich, lanky young man with blond hair, spent most of his time substituting in for Hulbert or I, when one of us acquiesced a break.
We made slow progress initially, but after about one day, our party hit its stride, and we began moving at a steady rate. We had anticipated smooth sailing, however plans rarely go as expected, and ours was no exception.
| First submission, hope you all like this tale from the discoverer of the Challenger Deep:
Our pack Trilobite was carrying our atmospheric gear. The stubborn beast was having no difficulty navigating the massive root structure that made up the forest floor. Oxygen levels were approximately 65%, water vapor 20% Nitrogen 14% with trace gases making up the final 1%; with atmospheric pressure in the Oceanosphere being 2.6k psi at our current location. The atmosphere crushing compared to that of the Troposphere's 14.5 psi. Our carbon fiber pressure suits were constantly shifting against the weight of the wet mists. The oxidization decay of our supplies had yet to outpace our replacement parts stored neatly in nitrogen rich pressure neutral bins.
No team had managed to penetrate the Marianosphere. Our best guess is that pressure reaches as high as 15k psi. We plan to be the first to cross it by foot. Our carbon fiber exoskeletons compressed under the pressure, but was constructed in a way to disperse the pressure and strengthen the suit.
The light of our expedition radiated meters into the soupy mists that surrounded us. Our scouts were out of sight laying the trail of atmosphere measuring tools that created our early warning system. We had already lost Raymond and Timus to what was initially mossy bark and tree branches. The insect had adaptive skin reminding me of the Cephalopods discovered in the Atlantic Forest. I was terrified seeing the beast snatch the two veteran scouts and vanish. We now stabbed every root we approached. We watched the atmospheric monitors seeking changes in pressure, the couple seconds warning could be the difference between survival.
Insects the size of houses rumbled in the distance. Most were vegetarian; they kept the moss from choking out the giants of the Pacific Forest. It was rare to find a carnivorous fauna at these depths, but the ferocity of the creatures was apparent. Humans were no longer the top of the food chain.
*Clunk*
A scout's air hose went taut.
*Vrrrr*
The hose began reeling out with speed.
*Pfffffft*
The pressure gauge indicating the scout, Randal, began to shift dramatically back to neutral. In response the hose attached to our Trilobite disconnected. The expedition halted in anticipation. Weapons were brought to the ready. I refused the idea that I would die here. I watched the gauges to see what was approaching our group, but it seemed whatever had happened wasn't coming closer.
Five minutes passed before one of the remaining scouts returned to us with a report.
"Dr. Challenger!"
"Simon?"
"Doctor, we reached a ledge. It seems Randal didn't notice in time, and went over."
Relief washed over me, and the expedition. Followed by momentary sadness for Randal. I was the hit by a wave of euphoria.
"A ledge?"
"We don't know how deep it may be, but since Randal disappeared I guess it's better to say cliff."
"None of our maps have any mention of cliffs aside from those of the trench." I was astounded, we officially made it further than any surviving expedition.
*Clunk*
*Vrrrr*
*Clunk*
*Vrrrr*
*Pfffffft*
The hoses to the scouts were being ripped away at speed. The gauges were resetting. The fail safes began activating detaching nearly every man ahead of the bubble of light. The color in my face drained to match the pallid fog. Every man backed away from the boundary; weapons ready. Something began approaching from the path of the scouts. Whatever got them was coming for us.
Simon approached the front, his weapon ready. The warning system gave him the reactionary time he needed to survive the attack. The creature could only be described as a giant worm. It lashed out , but I think the lights gave us an edge blinding it's sensory capabilities. The battle was quick, lacking the element of surprise that allowed it to take the scouts the worm was no match for our readied defenses.
Once our Trilobite was encouraged to continue plodding forward; I began the sequence on our atmospheric control system recalling our scouts and rear guard. It was time to evaluate the cliff ahead of us and begin our plunge into the Marianosphere. The excitement I felt squashed any considerations for the deaths of the scouts. | |
[WP] Instead of Oceans, they are all big forests, that gets taller and darker instead of deeper, with more dangerous animals living further out in the forest. A person decides to cross the Mariana Trench | Few men have ever tried to cross the Mariana jungle. Those who have are yet to return. While they tell me i'll die, I know I'm gonna be the first to do it.
The trees aren't too tall on the eastern coast of the Philippines, but you can't look far into the horizons before the looming wooden pillars block the sun. My cameraman is at my side, a nervous look on his face. The people at the beach are staring, I can't blame them considering what we're wearing. Our forest navigation gear and large backpacks don't match the local style much.
"Ready?" I ask Tom. He looks back at me, "As ready as I'll ever be, I suppose".
We make our way towards the trees. They're spread out for now, few shrubs stand in our path. The muddy earth already sticks to our boots, but I can't be hindered by dirt. I march on, Tom close behind.
"What are you expecting to find?" He asks, looking back at the beach. "Whatever it is that's killed those before us, I hope. We'll be the first to bring back it's bones!" I can tell my determined look scares him. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't shitting my pants, but this expedition will prove valuable to ecologists around the globe.
We carry rifles, but my main weapon will be my flood light. The animals out there won't be used to anything that bright, if I'm right it should scare them off, while lighting them up perfectly for some pictures. The air is already fairly thin, and it's getting darker every hour we march on. I talk little to Tom, I've never been one for small talk and I know he doesn't mind. The silence is calming to me. A few monkeys crawl around the trees, meters high by now, but we aren't nearly deep enough in yet to worry about wildlife. We came for that which no man has seen before, we haven't even made a new record for deepest expedition yet.
We march on, as the leaves grow denser and sunlight becomes rarer. We soon switch to our lights, and the roots and shrubs make the ground hard to walk on.
"It's been six hours." Tom says after countless silent steps. "It's already ten o clock." Not having sun messes with your sense of time more than I expected. It seemed like it had only been an hour ago since we left the coast. "Alright" I reply, walking on. "When do you want to take a break?". "About now actually" he says, stopping. "I'm already hungry."
"We only have food for three weeks, we aren't even half way yet." It's cruel, but the forest is crueler. We need to ration our supplies if we want to make it. "Can you wait another hour or two?" I keep walking, and he soon is forced to catch up. "Fair enough..." He's tired, I know. So am I, but sleeping will slow is down too much. It has to wait.
And we march on. | The world is alive.
Over 3 quarters of our planet is filled with trees. Our blood posesses properties not unlike sap, and it is believed we emerged from the undergrowth from the decaying matter these trees shed.
A byproduct of waste processors run rampant.
Our civilisation is great. We live to destroy. The forest wishes us dead.
We are forever at war.
From the enticing Angler Wisp Macaws of the South Pacifc, to the stories of chaos gods emerging from the forests, their visages of fur and feather bringing lesser beings into insanity, war with nature is never far from our minds.
We had ships though. The forest is dense enough that one can row through it, if you have the steel to withstand many sharp sticks scraping your underside.
There is one place no man has ever returned from alive. A place of nightmares. The Mariana Peak. A mountain, bigger than Everest, but posessing no land making up its height, oh no.
Tis a mountain of the trees.
Some say the sun hits that spot just right, and they all compete for it. Others say it is a cursed place.
I know not.
But I will do eventually, for I intend to go there to find out.
This is the journal of my voyage to the Mariana Peak. | |
[WP] Instead of Oceans, they are all big forests, that gets taller and darker instead of deeper, with more dangerous animals living further out in the forest. A person decides to cross the Mariana Trench | Cool wind whipped around my body, blowing my hood off and exposing my head to the freezing air. My numb fingers passed my numbing ears, and reclaimed the hood, pulling it around me once more. It hardly offered respite from the cold. The most insulating fabrics on my body felt diaphanous in those conditions.
We were deep. Deeper than any man had ever been. The trees around us stretched inexorably upwards, endlessly high, creeping towards the sunlight and claiming it all for themselves. The path behind us was visible only when illuminated by the beams of our flashlights and the path before us did not yet exist. We wordlessly hacked our way through the thick underbrush, winding a serpentine route through the increasingly arduous terrain. The off-road vehicle carrying our supplies and sleeping quarters lurched slowly behind me.
There were four of us, myself and three others. Four of the most seasoned explorers of forest regions in the world- Cook, Magellan, Vespucci, and Columbus, you might have called us, had you looked towards the famous tales of seafaring explorers for inspiration. Our story, however, was not one of fiction. The seventy percent of the earth covered by these dense woodlands remained largely unexplored, and our intent was to conquer the largest of the unexplored, the Marianas Trench. Over fifteen hundred miles deep, the trench was the lowest point on earth, and contained creatures so strange and gruesome, some say it must have stretched deep enough to crack into hell itself and free the demons from their fiery prison.
Hulbert was our leader, a tall man with a large mustache, offset by his mostly bald head. He and I were typically in front, snaking our way through the undergrowth like a scouting party behind enemy lines. Iaquinta, Hulbert’s antithesis, a short, tanned man with a thick shock of black hair, could often be found behind the wheel, and Ulrich, lanky young man with blond hair, spent most of his time substituting in for Hulbert or I, when one of us acquiesced a break.
We made slow progress initially, but after about one day, our party hit its stride, and we began moving at a steady rate. We had anticipated smooth sailing, however plans rarely go as expected, and ours was no exception.
| The world is alive.
Over 3 quarters of our planet is filled with trees. Our blood posesses properties not unlike sap, and it is believed we emerged from the undergrowth from the decaying matter these trees shed.
A byproduct of waste processors run rampant.
Our civilisation is great. We live to destroy. The forest wishes us dead.
We are forever at war.
From the enticing Angler Wisp Macaws of the South Pacifc, to the stories of chaos gods emerging from the forests, their visages of fur and feather bringing lesser beings into insanity, war with nature is never far from our minds.
We had ships though. The forest is dense enough that one can row through it, if you have the steel to withstand many sharp sticks scraping your underside.
There is one place no man has ever returned from alive. A place of nightmares. The Mariana Peak. A mountain, bigger than Everest, but posessing no land making up its height, oh no.
Tis a mountain of the trees.
Some say the sun hits that spot just right, and they all compete for it. Others say it is a cursed place.
I know not.
But I will do eventually, for I intend to go there to find out.
This is the journal of my voyage to the Mariana Peak. | |
[WP] Instead of Oceans, they are all big forests, that gets taller and darker instead of deeper, with more dangerous animals living further out in the forest. A person decides to cross the Mariana Trench | Few men have ever tried to cross the Mariana jungle. Those who have are yet to return. While they tell me i'll die, I know I'm gonna be the first to do it.
The trees aren't too tall on the eastern coast of the Philippines, but you can't look far into the horizons before the looming wooden pillars block the sun. My cameraman is at my side, a nervous look on his face. The people at the beach are staring, I can't blame them considering what we're wearing. Our forest navigation gear and large backpacks don't match the local style much.
"Ready?" I ask Tom. He looks back at me, "As ready as I'll ever be, I suppose".
We make our way towards the trees. They're spread out for now, few shrubs stand in our path. The muddy earth already sticks to our boots, but I can't be hindered by dirt. I march on, Tom close behind.
"What are you expecting to find?" He asks, looking back at the beach. "Whatever it is that's killed those before us, I hope. We'll be the first to bring back it's bones!" I can tell my determined look scares him. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't shitting my pants, but this expedition will prove valuable to ecologists around the globe.
We carry rifles, but my main weapon will be my flood light. The animals out there won't be used to anything that bright, if I'm right it should scare them off, while lighting them up perfectly for some pictures. The air is already fairly thin, and it's getting darker every hour we march on. I talk little to Tom, I've never been one for small talk and I know he doesn't mind. The silence is calming to me. A few monkeys crawl around the trees, meters high by now, but we aren't nearly deep enough in yet to worry about wildlife. We came for that which no man has seen before, we haven't even made a new record for deepest expedition yet.
We march on, as the leaves grow denser and sunlight becomes rarer. We soon switch to our lights, and the roots and shrubs make the ground hard to walk on.
"It's been six hours." Tom says after countless silent steps. "It's already ten o clock." Not having sun messes with your sense of time more than I expected. It seemed like it had only been an hour ago since we left the coast. "Alright" I reply, walking on. "When do you want to take a break?". "About now actually" he says, stopping. "I'm already hungry."
"We only have food for three weeks, we aren't even half way yet." It's cruel, but the forest is crueler. We need to ration our supplies if we want to make it. "Can you wait another hour or two?" I keep walking, and he soon is forced to catch up. "Fair enough..." He's tired, I know. So am I, but sleeping will slow is down too much. It has to wait.
And we march on. | It was a subtle shift. I didn’t see it so much as feel it. The forest didn’t get darker, merely got heavier, the silence, deeper. Night fell. There was no wind. How could there be? The trees were monolithic. Each trunk was twice as thick again as I could run in five minutes, their branches spanning the sky, each leaf blotting out more of the sun, mingling with its neighbour, an unmoving canopy that roofed the world far above my head.
A noise broke the silence, the sound of a snapping twig. I halted, thrusting my torch higher in the air, to the left of my eyes. The flames burned brightly, but did not reveal the source. If I had to fight, I would, though running was the better option. Many things lived in this forest. Things that could rip me to shreds without a modest effort. I would not fall because a sword had hampered my escape. I dropped into a crouch and drew a long knife from my belt, lowering the hood of my black forest cloak.
Another sound, like the barest whisper of dry leaves across bare stone. Quickly, I smothered the torch. Blackness dropped and I heard the individual footsteps of the approaching creature. In my stoop, I crept to a hollow in one of the great roots of the nearest mountain-tree. My hand brushed the old wood, the section had been undisturbed and grown over with moss. The dampness soothed my nerves and I went prone, laying in the mud. A trickle of mud slid into my boots; mud soaked my chest and legs. I pulled my hood up again, to hide any shine from my sweat laden skin, any sound my held breath may have released. My eyes slowly adjusted in the gloom, my heart beating like mad in my chest. Shapes began to take form in the darkness.
I saw it. The beast was massive. It looked like a wolf, if a wolf had stolen its skin from the bark of a tree. Moss hung from its maw, its eyes shone a pale, acid green, and shone through the night. Teeth and fangs of stone gnashed and its bark skin stood at the hackles. It smelled me. Or the fire I had recently put out. It stepped toward me. I fought my screaming instincts. I wouldn’t run. It could have me in a second. I focused on staying still. On not breathing. On calming my wildly beating heart so that its sound would not betray me.
A great sound filled that terrible moment. Like the groaning of a falling tree. It started low and raised in pitch to a wailing high, somewhere far in the distance. The great wolf cocked its head and its ears perked forward and swivelled to locate the direction of that call. I nearly couldn’t contain myself. In that second, it looked more like a quizzical puppy, than a beast intent on devouring me. I swallowed my insane laughter and kept silent. Odd what the prospect of death will do to one’s sense of humour. The wolf stepped back, tilted its head and replied to the call in kind. The eerie, forest howl of that wolf would haunt me. The beast turned to me once more before departing, then bounded into the darkness, leaving me to silence again.
After many long minutes I rose from the nook, sheathing my blade and wiping the thick green moss from my hands and cloak. I backtracked the way I had come from, only now seeing the signs of the wolves’ territory. Paw prints in the dirt, old bones of other, smaller creatures that on first glance had looked to be thin, pale branches. Clear edge markings now made their way into my limited sight, deep claw marks in the massive trees. I was now outside the wolves’ domain. A sharp snarl filled the air and I spun about, another wolf had leaped to the top of one of the roots. It jumped again and landed in front of me, hardly stirring the ground it landed on and making not a sound. It looked me in the eye. I lowered my hands. Appearing threatening would only provoke it. The beast barked and laid down on the path I had just walked from, at the very edge of its territory. A low growl filled the air and I backed away, step by step. Its shape faded into the darkness, but its quick eyes followed me until I backed into the root of another tree.
I turned and ran along the root until I reached the point where it penetrated the earth. I followed it back along the other side, hoping it would lead to a hollow. To somewhere I could sleep, safe from the horrors of the night. When I reached the base of the tree, I was in luck. I crawled into the space, too small for most animals this deep in the forest to fit. Inside there was a pool in the center, fed by a trickle from the ceiling, that in turn drained into a crack on the other side, likely going on to feed a root of the behemoth tree. | |
[WP] Instead of Oceans, they are all big forests, that gets taller and darker instead of deeper, with more dangerous animals living further out in the forest. A person decides to cross the Mariana Trench | Cool wind whipped around my body, blowing my hood off and exposing my head to the freezing air. My numb fingers passed my numbing ears, and reclaimed the hood, pulling it around me once more. It hardly offered respite from the cold. The most insulating fabrics on my body felt diaphanous in those conditions.
We were deep. Deeper than any man had ever been. The trees around us stretched inexorably upwards, endlessly high, creeping towards the sunlight and claiming it all for themselves. The path behind us was visible only when illuminated by the beams of our flashlights and the path before us did not yet exist. We wordlessly hacked our way through the thick underbrush, winding a serpentine route through the increasingly arduous terrain. The off-road vehicle carrying our supplies and sleeping quarters lurched slowly behind me.
There were four of us, myself and three others. Four of the most seasoned explorers of forest regions in the world- Cook, Magellan, Vespucci, and Columbus, you might have called us, had you looked towards the famous tales of seafaring explorers for inspiration. Our story, however, was not one of fiction. The seventy percent of the earth covered by these dense woodlands remained largely unexplored, and our intent was to conquer the largest of the unexplored, the Marianas Trench. Over fifteen hundred miles deep, the trench was the lowest point on earth, and contained creatures so strange and gruesome, some say it must have stretched deep enough to crack into hell itself and free the demons from their fiery prison.
Hulbert was our leader, a tall man with a large mustache, offset by his mostly bald head. He and I were typically in front, snaking our way through the undergrowth like a scouting party behind enemy lines. Iaquinta, Hulbert’s antithesis, a short, tanned man with a thick shock of black hair, could often be found behind the wheel, and Ulrich, lanky young man with blond hair, spent most of his time substituting in for Hulbert or I, when one of us acquiesced a break.
We made slow progress initially, but after about one day, our party hit its stride, and we began moving at a steady rate. We had anticipated smooth sailing, however plans rarely go as expected, and ours was no exception.
| It was a subtle shift. I didn’t see it so much as feel it. The forest didn’t get darker, merely got heavier, the silence, deeper. Night fell. There was no wind. How could there be? The trees were monolithic. Each trunk was twice as thick again as I could run in five minutes, their branches spanning the sky, each leaf blotting out more of the sun, mingling with its neighbour, an unmoving canopy that roofed the world far above my head.
A noise broke the silence, the sound of a snapping twig. I halted, thrusting my torch higher in the air, to the left of my eyes. The flames burned brightly, but did not reveal the source. If I had to fight, I would, though running was the better option. Many things lived in this forest. Things that could rip me to shreds without a modest effort. I would not fall because a sword had hampered my escape. I dropped into a crouch and drew a long knife from my belt, lowering the hood of my black forest cloak.
Another sound, like the barest whisper of dry leaves across bare stone. Quickly, I smothered the torch. Blackness dropped and I heard the individual footsteps of the approaching creature. In my stoop, I crept to a hollow in one of the great roots of the nearest mountain-tree. My hand brushed the old wood, the section had been undisturbed and grown over with moss. The dampness soothed my nerves and I went prone, laying in the mud. A trickle of mud slid into my boots; mud soaked my chest and legs. I pulled my hood up again, to hide any shine from my sweat laden skin, any sound my held breath may have released. My eyes slowly adjusted in the gloom, my heart beating like mad in my chest. Shapes began to take form in the darkness.
I saw it. The beast was massive. It looked like a wolf, if a wolf had stolen its skin from the bark of a tree. Moss hung from its maw, its eyes shone a pale, acid green, and shone through the night. Teeth and fangs of stone gnashed and its bark skin stood at the hackles. It smelled me. Or the fire I had recently put out. It stepped toward me. I fought my screaming instincts. I wouldn’t run. It could have me in a second. I focused on staying still. On not breathing. On calming my wildly beating heart so that its sound would not betray me.
A great sound filled that terrible moment. Like the groaning of a falling tree. It started low and raised in pitch to a wailing high, somewhere far in the distance. The great wolf cocked its head and its ears perked forward and swivelled to locate the direction of that call. I nearly couldn’t contain myself. In that second, it looked more like a quizzical puppy, than a beast intent on devouring me. I swallowed my insane laughter and kept silent. Odd what the prospect of death will do to one’s sense of humour. The wolf stepped back, tilted its head and replied to the call in kind. The eerie, forest howl of that wolf would haunt me. The beast turned to me once more before departing, then bounded into the darkness, leaving me to silence again.
After many long minutes I rose from the nook, sheathing my blade and wiping the thick green moss from my hands and cloak. I backtracked the way I had come from, only now seeing the signs of the wolves’ territory. Paw prints in the dirt, old bones of other, smaller creatures that on first glance had looked to be thin, pale branches. Clear edge markings now made their way into my limited sight, deep claw marks in the massive trees. I was now outside the wolves’ domain. A sharp snarl filled the air and I spun about, another wolf had leaped to the top of one of the roots. It jumped again and landed in front of me, hardly stirring the ground it landed on and making not a sound. It looked me in the eye. I lowered my hands. Appearing threatening would only provoke it. The beast barked and laid down on the path I had just walked from, at the very edge of its territory. A low growl filled the air and I backed away, step by step. Its shape faded into the darkness, but its quick eyes followed me until I backed into the root of another tree.
I turned and ran along the root until I reached the point where it penetrated the earth. I followed it back along the other side, hoping it would lead to a hollow. To somewhere I could sleep, safe from the horrors of the night. When I reached the base of the tree, I was in luck. I crawled into the space, too small for most animals this deep in the forest to fit. Inside there was a pool in the center, fed by a trickle from the ceiling, that in turn drained into a crack on the other side, likely going on to feed a root of the behemoth tree. | |
[WP] Instead of Oceans, they are all big forests, that gets taller and darker instead of deeper, with more dangerous animals living further out in the forest. A person decides to cross the Mariana Trench | The conquistador stopped in his tracks. Before him, the vast endless forest lay before him.
He paused for a breath, as if he was taking a plunge. This was it. There was no turning back now. From here on, the only way was down.
The conquistador, walked along the tight trodden path down a steep decline. Behind him was a small 20-man company of lightly armoured soldiers, carefully following his every step.
Around them, the forest was thick and impenetrable – the path being the welcome exception. All around the men were sounds of life – birds singing, rustle of leaves blowing in the wind. The searing sun illuminated their path between the sparse trees.
To the uninitiated, the forest seemed like any normal one. Yet the ominous nature of it was not lost on any of the travelers.
The conquistador, Ferdinand Pizarro, knew what the maps had labeled this forest as: The Great Forest. This was the great uncharted territory. Nothing was shown here on the maps but it‘s outline.
No one had ever traveled more than a few days down. No one – until, hopefully, now. The secrets of the forest, and hopefully vast riches, would finally come to bear.
But it wasn‘t it‘s secrets that worried him.
He knew what local village called it: The Void. It was an unholy place. For centuries it was strictly forbidden to travel even to the border of the forest at nightfall. Those who did, often told stories of unusual encounters with terrible creatures with many legs or several eyes.
Those who dared to even venture into the forest never ventured particularly deep – and of those who did, if they came back at all, seemingly lost their mind.
Every villager knew countless stories of the sights those poor people claim to have witnessed: strange beasts flying in the air, and a darkness that made the night sky seem like a welcome sun, or terrible growling sounds emanating from deep within.
Ferdinand took off his helmet and put it into the carriage; the sweat was piling up. He himself was no stranger to travel. After all, it was him who was personally selected by the Queen to lead this mission. The Queen had heard of other heads of state starting to explore their nearby forests, each as unexplored as the last. Some went disastrously, with the mission never to be seen again. But some, particularly the short ones, were successful beyond their wildest dreams, even finding new lands on the other side.
It was easy to select Ferdinand – a world traveler, a veteran of war, and a renowned figure in the whole of Spain.
His skills were needed to the utmost now, however. God may have helped him fight against his human enemies, but what of the foe who is unknown, unpredictable, even incomprehensible? How will the almighty protect him against such a monster? He prayed that he may escape this trial alive, yet quitting was not an option.
The hours passed. The men, loyal to him, showed no signs of weariness.
However, the ground had quickly became harsher. The green forest growth was now few and far between. Ferdinand could now see between the trees, and at certain angles eve somewhat far ahead.
However, darkness was creeping in.
The tree stems had grown larger, supporting the mostly naked stems, who reached hundreds of metres into the air, ending in a small, green, glittery collection of leaves high above. Some sunbeams managed to break in down below, further accentuating the dim space the mission was now in.
Suddenly, Ferdinand stopped dead in his tracks and stared ahead of him.
„Men, stop!“. The sound of the horse‘s clattering and the men‘s sporadic chatter died down.
„Silence!“. The forest had now died down to the point that there was absolute silence, outside of faint bird songs in the skies above them.
„What is the matter, sir?“ A man dressed similarly to Ferdinand, but with a lower ranking insignia, walked up to him.
„I could swear I heard a voice in the distance.“
„That‘s impossible, sir. No one is here but us.“ Christopher, Ferdinand‘s right hand, skimmed the area in front of him.
Suddenly, he heard it too. A faint call in the distance before them: „Help! Please!“
Ferdinand sprints ahead. Christopher follows him, telling the men: „Onwards, quickly!“
However, as Christopher saw Ferdinand running far ahead of him, he couldn‘t help but to suspect something strange about the voice. He saw the pitch-black darkness in the distance and felt an unease he thought long forgotten.
-----
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| It was a subtle shift. I didn’t see it so much as feel it. The forest didn’t get darker, merely got heavier, the silence, deeper. Night fell. There was no wind. How could there be? The trees were monolithic. Each trunk was twice as thick again as I could run in five minutes, their branches spanning the sky, each leaf blotting out more of the sun, mingling with its neighbour, an unmoving canopy that roofed the world far above my head.
A noise broke the silence, the sound of a snapping twig. I halted, thrusting my torch higher in the air, to the left of my eyes. The flames burned brightly, but did not reveal the source. If I had to fight, I would, though running was the better option. Many things lived in this forest. Things that could rip me to shreds without a modest effort. I would not fall because a sword had hampered my escape. I dropped into a crouch and drew a long knife from my belt, lowering the hood of my black forest cloak.
Another sound, like the barest whisper of dry leaves across bare stone. Quickly, I smothered the torch. Blackness dropped and I heard the individual footsteps of the approaching creature. In my stoop, I crept to a hollow in one of the great roots of the nearest mountain-tree. My hand brushed the old wood, the section had been undisturbed and grown over with moss. The dampness soothed my nerves and I went prone, laying in the mud. A trickle of mud slid into my boots; mud soaked my chest and legs. I pulled my hood up again, to hide any shine from my sweat laden skin, any sound my held breath may have released. My eyes slowly adjusted in the gloom, my heart beating like mad in my chest. Shapes began to take form in the darkness.
I saw it. The beast was massive. It looked like a wolf, if a wolf had stolen its skin from the bark of a tree. Moss hung from its maw, its eyes shone a pale, acid green, and shone through the night. Teeth and fangs of stone gnashed and its bark skin stood at the hackles. It smelled me. Or the fire I had recently put out. It stepped toward me. I fought my screaming instincts. I wouldn’t run. It could have me in a second. I focused on staying still. On not breathing. On calming my wildly beating heart so that its sound would not betray me.
A great sound filled that terrible moment. Like the groaning of a falling tree. It started low and raised in pitch to a wailing high, somewhere far in the distance. The great wolf cocked its head and its ears perked forward and swivelled to locate the direction of that call. I nearly couldn’t contain myself. In that second, it looked more like a quizzical puppy, than a beast intent on devouring me. I swallowed my insane laughter and kept silent. Odd what the prospect of death will do to one’s sense of humour. The wolf stepped back, tilted its head and replied to the call in kind. The eerie, forest howl of that wolf would haunt me. The beast turned to me once more before departing, then bounded into the darkness, leaving me to silence again.
After many long minutes I rose from the nook, sheathing my blade and wiping the thick green moss from my hands and cloak. I backtracked the way I had come from, only now seeing the signs of the wolves’ territory. Paw prints in the dirt, old bones of other, smaller creatures that on first glance had looked to be thin, pale branches. Clear edge markings now made their way into my limited sight, deep claw marks in the massive trees. I was now outside the wolves’ domain. A sharp snarl filled the air and I spun about, another wolf had leaped to the top of one of the roots. It jumped again and landed in front of me, hardly stirring the ground it landed on and making not a sound. It looked me in the eye. I lowered my hands. Appearing threatening would only provoke it. The beast barked and laid down on the path I had just walked from, at the very edge of its territory. A low growl filled the air and I backed away, step by step. Its shape faded into the darkness, but its quick eyes followed me until I backed into the root of another tree.
I turned and ran along the root until I reached the point where it penetrated the earth. I followed it back along the other side, hoping it would lead to a hollow. To somewhere I could sleep, safe from the horrors of the night. When I reached the base of the tree, I was in luck. I crawled into the space, too small for most animals this deep in the forest to fit. Inside there was a pool in the center, fed by a trickle from the ceiling, that in turn drained into a crack on the other side, likely going on to feed a root of the behemoth tree. | |
[WP] Instead of Oceans, they are all big forests, that gets taller and darker instead of deeper, with more dangerous animals living further out in the forest. A person decides to cross the Mariana Trench | Crossing the vastly unexplored trench seemed like a good idea at the time. Imagine the headlines - world's most daring explorer.
But the darkness was absolute. The length of the trees were almost eternal. The circumference of the trees themselves would take hours to completely travel around. And that was just an estimation. Daylight is just a myth.`
The darkness was expected. I was prepared. But there was something else. The creatures. This is where prehistoric animals still exist. Creatures that haven't seen daylight since their ancestors descended through the forest to seek shelter from the apocalypse millennia's ago. Some of them have almost unprecedented sizes. You stumble across an animal so small, you can easily grab it and eat it. Then you come across animals so large, you thank whatever God you believe in that they can't see the thin prick of light illuminating the way from your hands.
I know I'm being hunted. These creatures, they can't even see. Eyes are useless at this point. The darkness is so strong, so infinite, so consuming, that nothing can see. Daylight is a myth. I estimate a creature roughly the size of a bear is coming for me. I've seen it. It's funny that a creature with no sight still has eyes so large it's almost comical. Silvery mottled skin with transparent patches. Scars cover it's body. It might be the size of a bear, but that's the only thing it has in common with a bear. The jagged teeth so sharp and so irregularly placed that they have cut through the creature's cheeks on an almost daily basis.
I am going to die.
The sweeping winds mask my scent, but only hasten my death. Even the trees cannot shelter me, for the wind seems to come from every direction. I was not prepared for this. The cold, cold so bad it simply hurts where it touches. Cold so horrific your bones are cold. To feel it in your bones...
This will be my last entry in my video journal. My final moments on this Earth will be spent alone, in the cold and the dark. Daylight is a myth. Even my flash light will only illuminate the way so far. The darkness simply consumes it.
I can see the creature. It has been standing there since I've started, close enough for the flash light to reflect off its eyes. Why has it been waiting? More important, how does it know where I am when it can't see?
| My wits had near left me, I was so frightened.
In our arrogance, we believed ourselves the strongest of all species. Yet, every time someone braved the oceans, they came back with gruesome stories of horrible monsters and terrifying darkness. As far as I can remember, I was always fascinated by the Pacific Ocean. The most frightening tales always came from those dark, green depths. I grew up and attended college, with the intent to study ocean life and its environment.
The farther exploration parties delved into them, the stranger the stories became. The creatures, however, were what I always was the most fascinated with. Beasts bigger than my own apartment and tiny tree-dwellers with glowing bodies. School was not difficult for me as I was studying what I loved.
One of my professors, a regular explorer during the summer, took me under his wing. After learning about my passion, he promised to get me a good field job after I graduated.
That job is why I am here now. Mariana’s Trench, the largest ocean forest known to man. I hunch underneath the gnarled roots of a massive tree, two hands over my mouth. Faint wheezes emanated from between my fingers, but thankfully much quieter than it would have been otherwise. The weight of the .32 pistol on my hip did nothing to assuage my fears. It was empty anyway. We were two weeks’ worth of marching into the Trench before it started hunting us. We ran for at least four days before I was the last left. I had been running for a week and a half, slowly spiraling into insanity. Distant rumblings caused by some enormous beast and unearthly screeches were my two constant companions. I was used to those noises by now.
The slithering noise, so quiet and deadly, startled me from my pointless thoughts.
I was scared witless now.
There was no coherent thought, no recollection of what followed. Only the need to run. I did run as fast as I could, deeper and deeper into hell. I gasped for breath, stopping only once to catch it. It didn’t matter. Consistently, the thing would find me after five minutes or so.
I ran some more.
Morning found me curled on the broad limb of a tree. I don’t know how I got there but the broken nails and scrapped limbs were telling. I had been very desperate to get away. Whatever was happening to me, I was losing my mind. The trees themselves were a wonder. Rather, the tree was a wonder. There was no singular tree, they were all connected. Leafy foliage stretching from trunk to trunk, branches tangled together. The flora was a fantastic blend of bright colors and fantastic shapes. Most had some form of dangerous defense mechanism.
Of the fauna…it was best to stay away from ninety percent of them. Most were poisonous or venomous and all were deadly. The sting ray was one of the strangest and most dangerous. It used its belly muscle to crawl up trees, blending in with the bark. It would then release itself when prey came near, gliding through the air before stabbing its victim with its barbed stinger.
My breath hitched as I knew there were things much, much more dangerous than the sting ray. I opened my flat pack and scrabbled through it, searching for the leather-bound book. Inside, it contained knowledge of all things that had been discovered in Mariana’s Trench.
I flipped through it feverishly, knowing that I had maybe half a day before it discovered me again. That’s how it happened, day in and day out. I would hid until it found me and then we’d be off again. I’d find some place to hide for the night until either it found me or some other deadly danger forced me to run.
I spent all my spare time searching through the large book for some hint of what it was that was hunting me. It was no easy task as the book was nearly as large as a dictionary.
I skimmed through about thirty pages of text before I was hungry. I had taken to hunting the crabs that lift on the forest floor. My machete and hatchet, originally meant for clearing paths, served me well enough in that area.
The book had a list of non-poisonous plants for vegetables. Forest weeds were bland but they didn't kill me so I ate them as well. I wrapped my fingers with strips of cloth torn from what used to be one of my shirts.
I sat over my kill, wrapping each piece of meat with weeds before swallowing the food. It was revolting after eating only that for so long but it kept me healthy.
I woke up, a sense of impending danger making the hairs of my neck stand on end. I cursed myself silently for a fool. I had actually fallen asleep on the floor of the forest, a very stupid thing to do.
I was so tired but I forced myself to stand, preparing mentally. I knew what had woken me up. It was what usually woke me up.
There.
*Ksssthhhhhssssss*. Pause. *Kchhhhhkkshhhhhh.* A longer pause this time. *Shhhhthkshhhhhh ch ch chhhhh.* *Shhhk shhk shhhhhhtthhhhhshk shkkk.*
The last variation of slithering and almost unnoticeable thunks let me know it had caught my scent.
And so I ran.
The sound was closer today. I quietly gasped, crouching in a good size copse. It was too close and yet I hadn't noticed. My senses were dulled from lack of sleep.
The shape reared up, a good fifteen feet high. The dim light of the forest made its skin gleam, though it was hard to tell what its skin actually was composed of.
It had a long, serpentine neck from what I could see. I would have thought it was a massive snake but the soft *shthunk* it made when it moved convinced me otherwise. It was obviously a very heavy beast.
*Hssssshhhh.* I heard it take in a breath of air. A dim light emanated from it now and for a brief second I thought it was a bioluminescent animal.
I was wrong.
*Cont.* | |
[WP] Instead of Oceans, they are all big forests, that gets taller and darker instead of deeper, with more dangerous animals living further out in the forest. A person decides to cross the Mariana Trench | Few men have ever tried to cross the Mariana jungle. Those who have are yet to return. While they tell me i'll die, I know I'm gonna be the first to do it.
The trees aren't too tall on the eastern coast of the Philippines, but you can't look far into the horizons before the looming wooden pillars block the sun. My cameraman is at my side, a nervous look on his face. The people at the beach are staring, I can't blame them considering what we're wearing. Our forest navigation gear and large backpacks don't match the local style much.
"Ready?" I ask Tom. He looks back at me, "As ready as I'll ever be, I suppose".
We make our way towards the trees. They're spread out for now, few shrubs stand in our path. The muddy earth already sticks to our boots, but I can't be hindered by dirt. I march on, Tom close behind.
"What are you expecting to find?" He asks, looking back at the beach. "Whatever it is that's killed those before us, I hope. We'll be the first to bring back it's bones!" I can tell my determined look scares him. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't shitting my pants, but this expedition will prove valuable to ecologists around the globe.
We carry rifles, but my main weapon will be my flood light. The animals out there won't be used to anything that bright, if I'm right it should scare them off, while lighting them up perfectly for some pictures. The air is already fairly thin, and it's getting darker every hour we march on. I talk little to Tom, I've never been one for small talk and I know he doesn't mind. The silence is calming to me. A few monkeys crawl around the trees, meters high by now, but we aren't nearly deep enough in yet to worry about wildlife. We came for that which no man has seen before, we haven't even made a new record for deepest expedition yet.
We march on, as the leaves grow denser and sunlight becomes rarer. We soon switch to our lights, and the roots and shrubs make the ground hard to walk on.
"It's been six hours." Tom says after countless silent steps. "It's already ten o clock." Not having sun messes with your sense of time more than I expected. It seemed like it had only been an hour ago since we left the coast. "Alright" I reply, walking on. "When do you want to take a break?". "About now actually" he says, stopping. "I'm already hungry."
"We only have food for three weeks, we aren't even half way yet." It's cruel, but the forest is crueler. We need to ration our supplies if we want to make it. "Can you wait another hour or two?" I keep walking, and he soon is forced to catch up. "Fair enough..." He's tired, I know. So am I, but sleeping will slow is down too much. It has to wait.
And we march on. | My wits had near left me, I was so frightened.
In our arrogance, we believed ourselves the strongest of all species. Yet, every time someone braved the oceans, they came back with gruesome stories of horrible monsters and terrifying darkness. As far as I can remember, I was always fascinated by the Pacific Ocean. The most frightening tales always came from those dark, green depths. I grew up and attended college, with the intent to study ocean life and its environment.
The farther exploration parties delved into them, the stranger the stories became. The creatures, however, were what I always was the most fascinated with. Beasts bigger than my own apartment and tiny tree-dwellers with glowing bodies. School was not difficult for me as I was studying what I loved.
One of my professors, a regular explorer during the summer, took me under his wing. After learning about my passion, he promised to get me a good field job after I graduated.
That job is why I am here now. Mariana’s Trench, the largest ocean forest known to man. I hunch underneath the gnarled roots of a massive tree, two hands over my mouth. Faint wheezes emanated from between my fingers, but thankfully much quieter than it would have been otherwise. The weight of the .32 pistol on my hip did nothing to assuage my fears. It was empty anyway. We were two weeks’ worth of marching into the Trench before it started hunting us. We ran for at least four days before I was the last left. I had been running for a week and a half, slowly spiraling into insanity. Distant rumblings caused by some enormous beast and unearthly screeches were my two constant companions. I was used to those noises by now.
The slithering noise, so quiet and deadly, startled me from my pointless thoughts.
I was scared witless now.
There was no coherent thought, no recollection of what followed. Only the need to run. I did run as fast as I could, deeper and deeper into hell. I gasped for breath, stopping only once to catch it. It didn’t matter. Consistently, the thing would find me after five minutes or so.
I ran some more.
Morning found me curled on the broad limb of a tree. I don’t know how I got there but the broken nails and scrapped limbs were telling. I had been very desperate to get away. Whatever was happening to me, I was losing my mind. The trees themselves were a wonder. Rather, the tree was a wonder. There was no singular tree, they were all connected. Leafy foliage stretching from trunk to trunk, branches tangled together. The flora was a fantastic blend of bright colors and fantastic shapes. Most had some form of dangerous defense mechanism.
Of the fauna…it was best to stay away from ninety percent of them. Most were poisonous or venomous and all were deadly. The sting ray was one of the strangest and most dangerous. It used its belly muscle to crawl up trees, blending in with the bark. It would then release itself when prey came near, gliding through the air before stabbing its victim with its barbed stinger.
My breath hitched as I knew there were things much, much more dangerous than the sting ray. I opened my flat pack and scrabbled through it, searching for the leather-bound book. Inside, it contained knowledge of all things that had been discovered in Mariana’s Trench.
I flipped through it feverishly, knowing that I had maybe half a day before it discovered me again. That’s how it happened, day in and day out. I would hid until it found me and then we’d be off again. I’d find some place to hide for the night until either it found me or some other deadly danger forced me to run.
I spent all my spare time searching through the large book for some hint of what it was that was hunting me. It was no easy task as the book was nearly as large as a dictionary.
I skimmed through about thirty pages of text before I was hungry. I had taken to hunting the crabs that lift on the forest floor. My machete and hatchet, originally meant for clearing paths, served me well enough in that area.
The book had a list of non-poisonous plants for vegetables. Forest weeds were bland but they didn't kill me so I ate them as well. I wrapped my fingers with strips of cloth torn from what used to be one of my shirts.
I sat over my kill, wrapping each piece of meat with weeds before swallowing the food. It was revolting after eating only that for so long but it kept me healthy.
I woke up, a sense of impending danger making the hairs of my neck stand on end. I cursed myself silently for a fool. I had actually fallen asleep on the floor of the forest, a very stupid thing to do.
I was so tired but I forced myself to stand, preparing mentally. I knew what had woken me up. It was what usually woke me up.
There.
*Ksssthhhhhssssss*. Pause. *Kchhhhhkkshhhhhh.* A longer pause this time. *Shhhhthkshhhhhh ch ch chhhhh.* *Shhhk shhk shhhhhhtthhhhhshk shkkk.*
The last variation of slithering and almost unnoticeable thunks let me know it had caught my scent.
And so I ran.
The sound was closer today. I quietly gasped, crouching in a good size copse. It was too close and yet I hadn't noticed. My senses were dulled from lack of sleep.
The shape reared up, a good fifteen feet high. The dim light of the forest made its skin gleam, though it was hard to tell what its skin actually was composed of.
It had a long, serpentine neck from what I could see. I would have thought it was a massive snake but the soft *shthunk* it made when it moved convinced me otherwise. It was obviously a very heavy beast.
*Hssssshhhh.* I heard it take in a breath of air. A dim light emanated from it now and for a brief second I thought it was a bioluminescent animal.
I was wrong.
*Cont.* | |
[WP] Instead of Oceans, they are all big forests, that gets taller and darker instead of deeper, with more dangerous animals living further out in the forest. A person decides to cross the Mariana Trench | Cool wind whipped around my body, blowing my hood off and exposing my head to the freezing air. My numb fingers passed my numbing ears, and reclaimed the hood, pulling it around me once more. It hardly offered respite from the cold. The most insulating fabrics on my body felt diaphanous in those conditions.
We were deep. Deeper than any man had ever been. The trees around us stretched inexorably upwards, endlessly high, creeping towards the sunlight and claiming it all for themselves. The path behind us was visible only when illuminated by the beams of our flashlights and the path before us did not yet exist. We wordlessly hacked our way through the thick underbrush, winding a serpentine route through the increasingly arduous terrain. The off-road vehicle carrying our supplies and sleeping quarters lurched slowly behind me.
There were four of us, myself and three others. Four of the most seasoned explorers of forest regions in the world- Cook, Magellan, Vespucci, and Columbus, you might have called us, had you looked towards the famous tales of seafaring explorers for inspiration. Our story, however, was not one of fiction. The seventy percent of the earth covered by these dense woodlands remained largely unexplored, and our intent was to conquer the largest of the unexplored, the Marianas Trench. Over fifteen hundred miles deep, the trench was the lowest point on earth, and contained creatures so strange and gruesome, some say it must have stretched deep enough to crack into hell itself and free the demons from their fiery prison.
Hulbert was our leader, a tall man with a large mustache, offset by his mostly bald head. He and I were typically in front, snaking our way through the undergrowth like a scouting party behind enemy lines. Iaquinta, Hulbert’s antithesis, a short, tanned man with a thick shock of black hair, could often be found behind the wheel, and Ulrich, lanky young man with blond hair, spent most of his time substituting in for Hulbert or I, when one of us acquiesced a break.
We made slow progress initially, but after about one day, our party hit its stride, and we began moving at a steady rate. We had anticipated smooth sailing, however plans rarely go as expected, and ours was no exception.
| My wits had near left me, I was so frightened.
In our arrogance, we believed ourselves the strongest of all species. Yet, every time someone braved the oceans, they came back with gruesome stories of horrible monsters and terrifying darkness. As far as I can remember, I was always fascinated by the Pacific Ocean. The most frightening tales always came from those dark, green depths. I grew up and attended college, with the intent to study ocean life and its environment.
The farther exploration parties delved into them, the stranger the stories became. The creatures, however, were what I always was the most fascinated with. Beasts bigger than my own apartment and tiny tree-dwellers with glowing bodies. School was not difficult for me as I was studying what I loved.
One of my professors, a regular explorer during the summer, took me under his wing. After learning about my passion, he promised to get me a good field job after I graduated.
That job is why I am here now. Mariana’s Trench, the largest ocean forest known to man. I hunch underneath the gnarled roots of a massive tree, two hands over my mouth. Faint wheezes emanated from between my fingers, but thankfully much quieter than it would have been otherwise. The weight of the .32 pistol on my hip did nothing to assuage my fears. It was empty anyway. We were two weeks’ worth of marching into the Trench before it started hunting us. We ran for at least four days before I was the last left. I had been running for a week and a half, slowly spiraling into insanity. Distant rumblings caused by some enormous beast and unearthly screeches were my two constant companions. I was used to those noises by now.
The slithering noise, so quiet and deadly, startled me from my pointless thoughts.
I was scared witless now.
There was no coherent thought, no recollection of what followed. Only the need to run. I did run as fast as I could, deeper and deeper into hell. I gasped for breath, stopping only once to catch it. It didn’t matter. Consistently, the thing would find me after five minutes or so.
I ran some more.
Morning found me curled on the broad limb of a tree. I don’t know how I got there but the broken nails and scrapped limbs were telling. I had been very desperate to get away. Whatever was happening to me, I was losing my mind. The trees themselves were a wonder. Rather, the tree was a wonder. There was no singular tree, they were all connected. Leafy foliage stretching from trunk to trunk, branches tangled together. The flora was a fantastic blend of bright colors and fantastic shapes. Most had some form of dangerous defense mechanism.
Of the fauna…it was best to stay away from ninety percent of them. Most were poisonous or venomous and all were deadly. The sting ray was one of the strangest and most dangerous. It used its belly muscle to crawl up trees, blending in with the bark. It would then release itself when prey came near, gliding through the air before stabbing its victim with its barbed stinger.
My breath hitched as I knew there were things much, much more dangerous than the sting ray. I opened my flat pack and scrabbled through it, searching for the leather-bound book. Inside, it contained knowledge of all things that had been discovered in Mariana’s Trench.
I flipped through it feverishly, knowing that I had maybe half a day before it discovered me again. That’s how it happened, day in and day out. I would hid until it found me and then we’d be off again. I’d find some place to hide for the night until either it found me or some other deadly danger forced me to run.
I spent all my spare time searching through the large book for some hint of what it was that was hunting me. It was no easy task as the book was nearly as large as a dictionary.
I skimmed through about thirty pages of text before I was hungry. I had taken to hunting the crabs that lift on the forest floor. My machete and hatchet, originally meant for clearing paths, served me well enough in that area.
The book had a list of non-poisonous plants for vegetables. Forest weeds were bland but they didn't kill me so I ate them as well. I wrapped my fingers with strips of cloth torn from what used to be one of my shirts.
I sat over my kill, wrapping each piece of meat with weeds before swallowing the food. It was revolting after eating only that for so long but it kept me healthy.
I woke up, a sense of impending danger making the hairs of my neck stand on end. I cursed myself silently for a fool. I had actually fallen asleep on the floor of the forest, a very stupid thing to do.
I was so tired but I forced myself to stand, preparing mentally. I knew what had woken me up. It was what usually woke me up.
There.
*Ksssthhhhhssssss*. Pause. *Kchhhhhkkshhhhhh.* A longer pause this time. *Shhhhthkshhhhhh ch ch chhhhh.* *Shhhk shhk shhhhhhtthhhhhshk shkkk.*
The last variation of slithering and almost unnoticeable thunks let me know it had caught my scent.
And so I ran.
The sound was closer today. I quietly gasped, crouching in a good size copse. It was too close and yet I hadn't noticed. My senses were dulled from lack of sleep.
The shape reared up, a good fifteen feet high. The dim light of the forest made its skin gleam, though it was hard to tell what its skin actually was composed of.
It had a long, serpentine neck from what I could see. I would have thought it was a massive snake but the soft *shthunk* it made when it moved convinced me otherwise. It was obviously a very heavy beast.
*Hssssshhhh.* I heard it take in a breath of air. A dim light emanated from it now and for a brief second I thought it was a bioluminescent animal.
I was wrong.
*Cont.* | |
[WP] Instead of Oceans, they are all big forests, that gets taller and darker instead of deeper, with more dangerous animals living further out in the forest. A person decides to cross the Mariana Trench | The conquistador stopped in his tracks. Before him, the vast endless forest lay before him.
He paused for a breath, as if he was taking a plunge. This was it. There was no turning back now. From here on, the only way was down.
The conquistador, walked along the tight trodden path down a steep decline. Behind him was a small 20-man company of lightly armoured soldiers, carefully following his every step.
Around them, the forest was thick and impenetrable – the path being the welcome exception. All around the men were sounds of life – birds singing, rustle of leaves blowing in the wind. The searing sun illuminated their path between the sparse trees.
To the uninitiated, the forest seemed like any normal one. Yet the ominous nature of it was not lost on any of the travelers.
The conquistador, Ferdinand Pizarro, knew what the maps had labeled this forest as: The Great Forest. This was the great uncharted territory. Nothing was shown here on the maps but it‘s outline.
No one had ever traveled more than a few days down. No one – until, hopefully, now. The secrets of the forest, and hopefully vast riches, would finally come to bear.
But it wasn‘t it‘s secrets that worried him.
He knew what local village called it: The Void. It was an unholy place. For centuries it was strictly forbidden to travel even to the border of the forest at nightfall. Those who did, often told stories of unusual encounters with terrible creatures with many legs or several eyes.
Those who dared to even venture into the forest never ventured particularly deep – and of those who did, if they came back at all, seemingly lost their mind.
Every villager knew countless stories of the sights those poor people claim to have witnessed: strange beasts flying in the air, and a darkness that made the night sky seem like a welcome sun, or terrible growling sounds emanating from deep within.
Ferdinand took off his helmet and put it into the carriage; the sweat was piling up. He himself was no stranger to travel. After all, it was him who was personally selected by the Queen to lead this mission. The Queen had heard of other heads of state starting to explore their nearby forests, each as unexplored as the last. Some went disastrously, with the mission never to be seen again. But some, particularly the short ones, were successful beyond their wildest dreams, even finding new lands on the other side.
It was easy to select Ferdinand – a world traveler, a veteran of war, and a renowned figure in the whole of Spain.
His skills were needed to the utmost now, however. God may have helped him fight against his human enemies, but what of the foe who is unknown, unpredictable, even incomprehensible? How will the almighty protect him against such a monster? He prayed that he may escape this trial alive, yet quitting was not an option.
The hours passed. The men, loyal to him, showed no signs of weariness.
However, the ground had quickly became harsher. The green forest growth was now few and far between. Ferdinand could now see between the trees, and at certain angles eve somewhat far ahead.
However, darkness was creeping in.
The tree stems had grown larger, supporting the mostly naked stems, who reached hundreds of metres into the air, ending in a small, green, glittery collection of leaves high above. Some sunbeams managed to break in down below, further accentuating the dim space the mission was now in.
Suddenly, Ferdinand stopped dead in his tracks and stared ahead of him.
„Men, stop!“. The sound of the horse‘s clattering and the men‘s sporadic chatter died down.
„Silence!“. The forest had now died down to the point that there was absolute silence, outside of faint bird songs in the skies above them.
„What is the matter, sir?“ A man dressed similarly to Ferdinand, but with a lower ranking insignia, walked up to him.
„I could swear I heard a voice in the distance.“
„That‘s impossible, sir. No one is here but us.“ Christopher, Ferdinand‘s right hand, skimmed the area in front of him.
Suddenly, he heard it too. A faint call in the distance before them: „Help! Please!“
Ferdinand sprints ahead. Christopher follows him, telling the men: „Onwards, quickly!“
However, as Christopher saw Ferdinand running far ahead of him, he couldn‘t help but to suspect something strange about the voice. He saw the pitch-black darkness in the distance and felt an unease he thought long forgotten.
-----
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| My wits had near left me, I was so frightened.
In our arrogance, we believed ourselves the strongest of all species. Yet, every time someone braved the oceans, they came back with gruesome stories of horrible monsters and terrifying darkness. As far as I can remember, I was always fascinated by the Pacific Ocean. The most frightening tales always came from those dark, green depths. I grew up and attended college, with the intent to study ocean life and its environment.
The farther exploration parties delved into them, the stranger the stories became. The creatures, however, were what I always was the most fascinated with. Beasts bigger than my own apartment and tiny tree-dwellers with glowing bodies. School was not difficult for me as I was studying what I loved.
One of my professors, a regular explorer during the summer, took me under his wing. After learning about my passion, he promised to get me a good field job after I graduated.
That job is why I am here now. Mariana’s Trench, the largest ocean forest known to man. I hunch underneath the gnarled roots of a massive tree, two hands over my mouth. Faint wheezes emanated from between my fingers, but thankfully much quieter than it would have been otherwise. The weight of the .32 pistol on my hip did nothing to assuage my fears. It was empty anyway. We were two weeks’ worth of marching into the Trench before it started hunting us. We ran for at least four days before I was the last left. I had been running for a week and a half, slowly spiraling into insanity. Distant rumblings caused by some enormous beast and unearthly screeches were my two constant companions. I was used to those noises by now.
The slithering noise, so quiet and deadly, startled me from my pointless thoughts.
I was scared witless now.
There was no coherent thought, no recollection of what followed. Only the need to run. I did run as fast as I could, deeper and deeper into hell. I gasped for breath, stopping only once to catch it. It didn’t matter. Consistently, the thing would find me after five minutes or so.
I ran some more.
Morning found me curled on the broad limb of a tree. I don’t know how I got there but the broken nails and scrapped limbs were telling. I had been very desperate to get away. Whatever was happening to me, I was losing my mind. The trees themselves were a wonder. Rather, the tree was a wonder. There was no singular tree, they were all connected. Leafy foliage stretching from trunk to trunk, branches tangled together. The flora was a fantastic blend of bright colors and fantastic shapes. Most had some form of dangerous defense mechanism.
Of the fauna…it was best to stay away from ninety percent of them. Most were poisonous or venomous and all were deadly. The sting ray was one of the strangest and most dangerous. It used its belly muscle to crawl up trees, blending in with the bark. It would then release itself when prey came near, gliding through the air before stabbing its victim with its barbed stinger.
My breath hitched as I knew there were things much, much more dangerous than the sting ray. I opened my flat pack and scrabbled through it, searching for the leather-bound book. Inside, it contained knowledge of all things that had been discovered in Mariana’s Trench.
I flipped through it feverishly, knowing that I had maybe half a day before it discovered me again. That’s how it happened, day in and day out. I would hid until it found me and then we’d be off again. I’d find some place to hide for the night until either it found me or some other deadly danger forced me to run.
I spent all my spare time searching through the large book for some hint of what it was that was hunting me. It was no easy task as the book was nearly as large as a dictionary.
I skimmed through about thirty pages of text before I was hungry. I had taken to hunting the crabs that lift on the forest floor. My machete and hatchet, originally meant for clearing paths, served me well enough in that area.
The book had a list of non-poisonous plants for vegetables. Forest weeds were bland but they didn't kill me so I ate them as well. I wrapped my fingers with strips of cloth torn from what used to be one of my shirts.
I sat over my kill, wrapping each piece of meat with weeds before swallowing the food. It was revolting after eating only that for so long but it kept me healthy.
I woke up, a sense of impending danger making the hairs of my neck stand on end. I cursed myself silently for a fool. I had actually fallen asleep on the floor of the forest, a very stupid thing to do.
I was so tired but I forced myself to stand, preparing mentally. I knew what had woken me up. It was what usually woke me up.
There.
*Ksssthhhhhssssss*. Pause. *Kchhhhhkkshhhhhh.* A longer pause this time. *Shhhhthkshhhhhh ch ch chhhhh.* *Shhhk shhk shhhhhhtthhhhhshk shkkk.*
The last variation of slithering and almost unnoticeable thunks let me know it had caught my scent.
And so I ran.
The sound was closer today. I quietly gasped, crouching in a good size copse. It was too close and yet I hadn't noticed. My senses were dulled from lack of sleep.
The shape reared up, a good fifteen feet high. The dim light of the forest made its skin gleam, though it was hard to tell what its skin actually was composed of.
It had a long, serpentine neck from what I could see. I would have thought it was a massive snake but the soft *shthunk* it made when it moved convinced me otherwise. It was obviously a very heavy beast.
*Hssssshhhh.* I heard it take in a breath of air. A dim light emanated from it now and for a brief second I thought it was a bioluminescent animal.
I was wrong.
*Cont.* | |
[WP] Instead of Oceans, they are all big forests, that gets taller and darker instead of deeper, with more dangerous animals living further out in the forest. A person decides to cross the Mariana Trench | Few men have ever tried to cross the Mariana jungle. Those who have are yet to return. While they tell me i'll die, I know I'm gonna be the first to do it.
The trees aren't too tall on the eastern coast of the Philippines, but you can't look far into the horizons before the looming wooden pillars block the sun. My cameraman is at my side, a nervous look on his face. The people at the beach are staring, I can't blame them considering what we're wearing. Our forest navigation gear and large backpacks don't match the local style much.
"Ready?" I ask Tom. He looks back at me, "As ready as I'll ever be, I suppose".
We make our way towards the trees. They're spread out for now, few shrubs stand in our path. The muddy earth already sticks to our boots, but I can't be hindered by dirt. I march on, Tom close behind.
"What are you expecting to find?" He asks, looking back at the beach. "Whatever it is that's killed those before us, I hope. We'll be the first to bring back it's bones!" I can tell my determined look scares him. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't shitting my pants, but this expedition will prove valuable to ecologists around the globe.
We carry rifles, but my main weapon will be my flood light. The animals out there won't be used to anything that bright, if I'm right it should scare them off, while lighting them up perfectly for some pictures. The air is already fairly thin, and it's getting darker every hour we march on. I talk little to Tom, I've never been one for small talk and I know he doesn't mind. The silence is calming to me. A few monkeys crawl around the trees, meters high by now, but we aren't nearly deep enough in yet to worry about wildlife. We came for that which no man has seen before, we haven't even made a new record for deepest expedition yet.
We march on, as the leaves grow denser and sunlight becomes rarer. We soon switch to our lights, and the roots and shrubs make the ground hard to walk on.
"It's been six hours." Tom says after countless silent steps. "It's already ten o clock." Not having sun messes with your sense of time more than I expected. It seemed like it had only been an hour ago since we left the coast. "Alright" I reply, walking on. "When do you want to take a break?". "About now actually" he says, stopping. "I'm already hungry."
"We only have food for three weeks, we aren't even half way yet." It's cruel, but the forest is crueler. We need to ration our supplies if we want to make it. "Can you wait another hour or two?" I keep walking, and he soon is forced to catch up. "Fair enough..." He's tired, I know. So am I, but sleeping will slow is down too much. It has to wait.
And we march on. |
There was no daylight, just darkness. Everything here is blind, yet they can still smell me. They can hear me. And they know I'm afraid.
Why was I such a fool to enter this place?!? I ran out of food.... days ago. This oceanic tree forest of the Marina Trench valley is so cruel...so cold...so dark...
I have forgotten what it was to stop and rest, to see the light of day.
I'll I do is run, and hope they forget I'm here.
All I do is run now...no rest, no retierment.
Just run
I run through the trees, and I force my way to the undergrowth of the twisted vines, when I hear them.
My God, I though, they've found me again! And I'm stuck.
I try to force my way out, but whatever remains of my cloths is stuck on the twisted vines. I can fell the blood pouring down on my legs and arms, crimson rivers that will stain this floor of the forest.
I can hear them clearer now. I hear them march across the forest, knocking down trees due to their blindness.
The hulking, massive creatures turn to me, and snarl in their multiple mouths.
The teeth of these creatures is all yelllowed, and cracked. Inside of their mouths, were hundreads of tounges, and on those tounges even more teeth.
The shaggy creatures were going to kill me now, and I just tried to keep escaping.
But this thick undergrowth was too strong, and it just ripped my flesh into piecces even more.
I knew this was my end, so, I closed my eyes, and waited.
And I asked the questions, and tried to answer them.
What was the point of this? To proove myself in a world that turned its back on me? To gain fame and fortuen for myself? So I could just do it?
Whatever it was, I was going to die.
So, I closed my eyes, and waited. | |
[WP] Instead of Oceans, they are all big forests, that gets taller and darker instead of deeper, with more dangerous animals living further out in the forest. A person decides to cross the Mariana Trench | Cool wind whipped around my body, blowing my hood off and exposing my head to the freezing air. My numb fingers passed my numbing ears, and reclaimed the hood, pulling it around me once more. It hardly offered respite from the cold. The most insulating fabrics on my body felt diaphanous in those conditions.
We were deep. Deeper than any man had ever been. The trees around us stretched inexorably upwards, endlessly high, creeping towards the sunlight and claiming it all for themselves. The path behind us was visible only when illuminated by the beams of our flashlights and the path before us did not yet exist. We wordlessly hacked our way through the thick underbrush, winding a serpentine route through the increasingly arduous terrain. The off-road vehicle carrying our supplies and sleeping quarters lurched slowly behind me.
There were four of us, myself and three others. Four of the most seasoned explorers of forest regions in the world- Cook, Magellan, Vespucci, and Columbus, you might have called us, had you looked towards the famous tales of seafaring explorers for inspiration. Our story, however, was not one of fiction. The seventy percent of the earth covered by these dense woodlands remained largely unexplored, and our intent was to conquer the largest of the unexplored, the Marianas Trench. Over fifteen hundred miles deep, the trench was the lowest point on earth, and contained creatures so strange and gruesome, some say it must have stretched deep enough to crack into hell itself and free the demons from their fiery prison.
Hulbert was our leader, a tall man with a large mustache, offset by his mostly bald head. He and I were typically in front, snaking our way through the undergrowth like a scouting party behind enemy lines. Iaquinta, Hulbert’s antithesis, a short, tanned man with a thick shock of black hair, could often be found behind the wheel, and Ulrich, lanky young man with blond hair, spent most of his time substituting in for Hulbert or I, when one of us acquiesced a break.
We made slow progress initially, but after about one day, our party hit its stride, and we began moving at a steady rate. We had anticipated smooth sailing, however plans rarely go as expected, and ours was no exception.
|
There was no daylight, just darkness. Everything here is blind, yet they can still smell me. They can hear me. And they know I'm afraid.
Why was I such a fool to enter this place?!? I ran out of food.... days ago. This oceanic tree forest of the Marina Trench valley is so cruel...so cold...so dark...
I have forgotten what it was to stop and rest, to see the light of day.
I'll I do is run, and hope they forget I'm here.
All I do is run now...no rest, no retierment.
Just run
I run through the trees, and I force my way to the undergrowth of the twisted vines, when I hear them.
My God, I though, they've found me again! And I'm stuck.
I try to force my way out, but whatever remains of my cloths is stuck on the twisted vines. I can fell the blood pouring down on my legs and arms, crimson rivers that will stain this floor of the forest.
I can hear them clearer now. I hear them march across the forest, knocking down trees due to their blindness.
The hulking, massive creatures turn to me, and snarl in their multiple mouths.
The teeth of these creatures is all yelllowed, and cracked. Inside of their mouths, were hundreads of tounges, and on those tounges even more teeth.
The shaggy creatures were going to kill me now, and I just tried to keep escaping.
But this thick undergrowth was too strong, and it just ripped my flesh into piecces even more.
I knew this was my end, so, I closed my eyes, and waited.
And I asked the questions, and tried to answer them.
What was the point of this? To proove myself in a world that turned its back on me? To gain fame and fortuen for myself? So I could just do it?
Whatever it was, I was going to die.
So, I closed my eyes, and waited. | |
[WP] Instead of Oceans, they are all big forests, that gets taller and darker instead of deeper, with more dangerous animals living further out in the forest. A person decides to cross the Mariana Trench | They say that nature reclaims everything. That, given time, she will always heal, grow, survive hardship, and come out stronger for having endured it. Continents may shift, disasters ravage the land, volcanoes have filled the sky with ash and coated the ground in rock. And still nature emerges. Tenacious. Enduring. Overcoming. And now, she is recovering from the greatest infection she has ever experienced.
Humanity.
With their glass and concrete spires, ribbons of asphalt creating an artificial webbing across once-verdant landscapes, blue waters turning black from pollution and waste. Humanity had taken over. And nature had fought back, furious at the exploitation of her bounty. She retaliated, and humanity had lost. Humanity was dying, and Mother Nature was recycling civilizations' carcass. This event is known as the Reclamation.
They say that, long ago, the Great Forests were once massive bodies of water. Some say that nature covered them over with the trees, to prevent the toxins of man from harming them. The Great Pacific Forest was supposedly where the first of the trees grew from. Near a land once known as 'Mariana.' That is where the most gargantuan of the wooden sentinels stand.
Men have seen their world of steel and glass slowly returning to the earth, and sought a way to regain the control over the world that they once had. If they could find a way to halt, or at least slow down, the advance of nature and the Reclamation, then they would have something to strive for. They would have hope, even a shard of it, that they too wouldn't be forgotten beneath the foliage.
Many valiant groups have searched, braving the Great Forests in an attempt to find something, anything, that could help. To find that sliver of hope, that tiny spark that they could clutch and feel that they still had a chance.
One such spark was found near the old Mariana.
The remaining world leaders have sent many groups of explorers into the towering trees, but for every ten men that went out, only two would come back. And they would return with bizarre reports of creatures. Things that hunt beneath the arboreal pillars, and have only grown beneath that primeval canopy. Beasts that appeared... far more intelligent than any animal had a right to be. Could they have found the source, the font of nature's rampant growth? The key to stopping it, deep within it's own core? We may never find out. For even these reports were from many years ago.
Today, few have the resources, or even the strength of will, to venture into the vast groves that have claimed so many before them. Many were small bands of people with nothing to lose, the grim determination of those who have learned not to hope, not to expect anything to come from their endeavors.
This is where our story begins, with one who has nothing, but is searching for that spark of hope that humanity so desperately needs... |
There was no daylight, just darkness. Everything here is blind, yet they can still smell me. They can hear me. And they know I'm afraid.
Why was I such a fool to enter this place?!? I ran out of food.... days ago. This oceanic tree forest of the Marina Trench valley is so cruel...so cold...so dark...
I have forgotten what it was to stop and rest, to see the light of day.
I'll I do is run, and hope they forget I'm here.
All I do is run now...no rest, no retierment.
Just run
I run through the trees, and I force my way to the undergrowth of the twisted vines, when I hear them.
My God, I though, they've found me again! And I'm stuck.
I try to force my way out, but whatever remains of my cloths is stuck on the twisted vines. I can fell the blood pouring down on my legs and arms, crimson rivers that will stain this floor of the forest.
I can hear them clearer now. I hear them march across the forest, knocking down trees due to their blindness.
The hulking, massive creatures turn to me, and snarl in their multiple mouths.
The teeth of these creatures is all yelllowed, and cracked. Inside of their mouths, were hundreads of tounges, and on those tounges even more teeth.
The shaggy creatures were going to kill me now, and I just tried to keep escaping.
But this thick undergrowth was too strong, and it just ripped my flesh into piecces even more.
I knew this was my end, so, I closed my eyes, and waited.
And I asked the questions, and tried to answer them.
What was the point of this? To proove myself in a world that turned its back on me? To gain fame and fortuen for myself? So I could just do it?
Whatever it was, I was going to die.
So, I closed my eyes, and waited. | |
[WP] Instead of Oceans, they are all big forests, that gets taller and darker instead of deeper, with more dangerous animals living further out in the forest. A person decides to cross the Mariana Trench | "It's black."
"I know it is."
"I hope you would know it is."
"How wouldn't I?"
"Not sure."
"Right."
A pause.
"How are we to get out of here exactly?"
"No clue."
"Hmmm. You haven't got a flashlight?"
"Nope."
"How in the hell could you plan this gigantic expedition bringing nothing with you but a bit of twine and a tuning key?"
"Those actually just happened to be in me pocket."
"That's considerably worse."
"I know. I haven't even got a piano."
"So why did you decide to explore the Mariana?"
"Bit of a thrillseeker I guess."
"What sort of thrills?"
"Oh you know, tea with curry, trousers without the drawers."
"Tea with curry? Are you mad or daft?"
"I think it's perfectly pleasant in here actually. The breeze is quite nice."
"What are you talking about?"
"Not sure. You don't happen to have a way out of here do you?"
"You're the one that planned this ridiculous adventure!"
"Right. Maybe we should both walk in one direction and just see where that gets us."
"Killed most likely. By some raving panther or some roaming rabid Jehovah's Witness.'
"I've never met one of them."
"Which?"
"A ROAMING rabid Jehovah's Witness. Every one I've met is quite static in their rabid movement."
"Right well I'm getting sick of this conversation."
"I don't have a thermometer, don't ask."
"Hand me the tuning key."
"Sure sure."
"AHA"
"What'd you do that for? It bloody hurt!"
"That's what happens when you're a right wanker in the midst of the deepest part of the most dangerous forest on the planet!"
"But I've lost it now!"
"You didn't need it in the first place!"
"It's still mine!"
"Oh hush and hand me the twine."
"No!"
"Why not?"
"You'll throw it at me!"
"I promise I won't."
"But you will!"
"Trust me. I won't."
"If you do I'm just going to walk off and leave you here. Take it, bloody git."
"Thank you. Oh my. Nice, long twine."
"What are you- stop. I can't bre-."
"Shhh. It will all be over soon."
"No. Please. Gugh gugh."
"Oh bollocks."
"You just tried to strangle me with my own twine!"
"My mistake. Thought you were a tree."
"You lie!"
"I do. But not now. Thought you were a tree, Tried to use the twine to climb up."
"You're just saying that because the twine broke and I'm still alive."
"Hardly. Now what are we to do?"
"I'm leaving you here in the dark, that's what I'm doing."
"Right. But how will you find your way out without this glow in the dark compass?"
"... Where did you get that?"
"Not sure."
"North?"
"Doubt it. Haven't been there in a while, especially since I've been in the market for a glow in the dark compass." |
There was no daylight, just darkness. Everything here is blind, yet they can still smell me. They can hear me. And they know I'm afraid.
Why was I such a fool to enter this place?!? I ran out of food.... days ago. This oceanic tree forest of the Marina Trench valley is so cruel...so cold...so dark...
I have forgotten what it was to stop and rest, to see the light of day.
I'll I do is run, and hope they forget I'm here.
All I do is run now...no rest, no retierment.
Just run
I run through the trees, and I force my way to the undergrowth of the twisted vines, when I hear them.
My God, I though, they've found me again! And I'm stuck.
I try to force my way out, but whatever remains of my cloths is stuck on the twisted vines. I can fell the blood pouring down on my legs and arms, crimson rivers that will stain this floor of the forest.
I can hear them clearer now. I hear them march across the forest, knocking down trees due to their blindness.
The hulking, massive creatures turn to me, and snarl in their multiple mouths.
The teeth of these creatures is all yelllowed, and cracked. Inside of their mouths, were hundreads of tounges, and on those tounges even more teeth.
The shaggy creatures were going to kill me now, and I just tried to keep escaping.
But this thick undergrowth was too strong, and it just ripped my flesh into piecces even more.
I knew this was my end, so, I closed my eyes, and waited.
And I asked the questions, and tried to answer them.
What was the point of this? To proove myself in a world that turned its back on me? To gain fame and fortuen for myself? So I could just do it?
Whatever it was, I was going to die.
So, I closed my eyes, and waited. | |
[WP] Instead of Oceans, they are all big forests, that gets taller and darker instead of deeper, with more dangerous animals living further out in the forest. A person decides to cross the Mariana Trench | The conquistador stopped in his tracks. Before him, the vast endless forest lay before him.
He paused for a breath, as if he was taking a plunge. This was it. There was no turning back now. From here on, the only way was down.
The conquistador, walked along the tight trodden path down a steep decline. Behind him was a small 20-man company of lightly armoured soldiers, carefully following his every step.
Around them, the forest was thick and impenetrable – the path being the welcome exception. All around the men were sounds of life – birds singing, rustle of leaves blowing in the wind. The searing sun illuminated their path between the sparse trees.
To the uninitiated, the forest seemed like any normal one. Yet the ominous nature of it was not lost on any of the travelers.
The conquistador, Ferdinand Pizarro, knew what the maps had labeled this forest as: The Great Forest. This was the great uncharted territory. Nothing was shown here on the maps but it‘s outline.
No one had ever traveled more than a few days down. No one – until, hopefully, now. The secrets of the forest, and hopefully vast riches, would finally come to bear.
But it wasn‘t it‘s secrets that worried him.
He knew what local village called it: The Void. It was an unholy place. For centuries it was strictly forbidden to travel even to the border of the forest at nightfall. Those who did, often told stories of unusual encounters with terrible creatures with many legs or several eyes.
Those who dared to even venture into the forest never ventured particularly deep – and of those who did, if they came back at all, seemingly lost their mind.
Every villager knew countless stories of the sights those poor people claim to have witnessed: strange beasts flying in the air, and a darkness that made the night sky seem like a welcome sun, or terrible growling sounds emanating from deep within.
Ferdinand took off his helmet and put it into the carriage; the sweat was piling up. He himself was no stranger to travel. After all, it was him who was personally selected by the Queen to lead this mission. The Queen had heard of other heads of state starting to explore their nearby forests, each as unexplored as the last. Some went disastrously, with the mission never to be seen again. But some, particularly the short ones, were successful beyond their wildest dreams, even finding new lands on the other side.
It was easy to select Ferdinand – a world traveler, a veteran of war, and a renowned figure in the whole of Spain.
His skills were needed to the utmost now, however. God may have helped him fight against his human enemies, but what of the foe who is unknown, unpredictable, even incomprehensible? How will the almighty protect him against such a monster? He prayed that he may escape this trial alive, yet quitting was not an option.
The hours passed. The men, loyal to him, showed no signs of weariness.
However, the ground had quickly became harsher. The green forest growth was now few and far between. Ferdinand could now see between the trees, and at certain angles eve somewhat far ahead.
However, darkness was creeping in.
The tree stems had grown larger, supporting the mostly naked stems, who reached hundreds of metres into the air, ending in a small, green, glittery collection of leaves high above. Some sunbeams managed to break in down below, further accentuating the dim space the mission was now in.
Suddenly, Ferdinand stopped dead in his tracks and stared ahead of him.
„Men, stop!“. The sound of the horse‘s clattering and the men‘s sporadic chatter died down.
„Silence!“. The forest had now died down to the point that there was absolute silence, outside of faint bird songs in the skies above them.
„What is the matter, sir?“ A man dressed similarly to Ferdinand, but with a lower ranking insignia, walked up to him.
„I could swear I heard a voice in the distance.“
„That‘s impossible, sir. No one is here but us.“ Christopher, Ferdinand‘s right hand, skimmed the area in front of him.
Suddenly, he heard it too. A faint call in the distance before them: „Help! Please!“
Ferdinand sprints ahead. Christopher follows him, telling the men: „Onwards, quickly!“
However, as Christopher saw Ferdinand running far ahead of him, he couldn‘t help but to suspect something strange about the voice. He saw the pitch-black darkness in the distance and felt an unease he thought long forgotten.
-----
Thanks for reading! Please upvote this post to let me know if you want another part :)
|
There was no daylight, just darkness. Everything here is blind, yet they can still smell me. They can hear me. And they know I'm afraid.
Why was I such a fool to enter this place?!? I ran out of food.... days ago. This oceanic tree forest of the Marina Trench valley is so cruel...so cold...so dark...
I have forgotten what it was to stop and rest, to see the light of day.
I'll I do is run, and hope they forget I'm here.
All I do is run now...no rest, no retierment.
Just run
I run through the trees, and I force my way to the undergrowth of the twisted vines, when I hear them.
My God, I though, they've found me again! And I'm stuck.
I try to force my way out, but whatever remains of my cloths is stuck on the twisted vines. I can fell the blood pouring down on my legs and arms, crimson rivers that will stain this floor of the forest.
I can hear them clearer now. I hear them march across the forest, knocking down trees due to their blindness.
The hulking, massive creatures turn to me, and snarl in their multiple mouths.
The teeth of these creatures is all yelllowed, and cracked. Inside of their mouths, were hundreads of tounges, and on those tounges even more teeth.
The shaggy creatures were going to kill me now, and I just tried to keep escaping.
But this thick undergrowth was too strong, and it just ripped my flesh into piecces even more.
I knew this was my end, so, I closed my eyes, and waited.
And I asked the questions, and tried to answer them.
What was the point of this? To proove myself in a world that turned its back on me? To gain fame and fortuen for myself? So I could just do it?
Whatever it was, I was going to die.
So, I closed my eyes, and waited. | |
[WP] Instead of Oceans, they are all big forests, that gets taller and darker instead of deeper, with more dangerous animals living further out in the forest. A person decides to cross the Mariana Trench | *Entry 4, March 13, 1984* "A Breach!"
Vanessa, you were correct! The *Gigansuchus* DO breach the canopy. Those holes described by Remington's expedition of 1937 are the breaching-points these leviathans use to escape the lower levels of the Pacific Growth. An explanation:
I set my team to surveilling a triad of these holes we found in close proximity - each less than 4km apart - by setting our ship to hover in the center of the triangle they formed, a safe 4000m above the canopy. The handlers passed out the breathing apparatus well in advance, you may be assured, as we were in the upper limits of the Mist. We watched these apertures for three days, and on the morning of the third, we witnessed a *Gigansuchus* breaching the northwest hole (coordinates below).
Vanessa, you cannot imagine it. The Gigans are simply monumental in size. This was a juvenile female, we estimate. Her hide was a dusky yellow-black in coloration and her burrowing-flexors were fully formed along the spine and belly. She was well-built, with all six limbs used to thrust her body - we guessed her size at 200m. We know the post-breeding females can nearly double that, but this was still a grand sight. The Gigan used her limbs to launch herself into the air, and her snout just cleared the lowest layer of the Mist, 150m straight up! The female held this pose, undoubtedly using her tail (which was never in sight) along with her lowest limbs to grip several branches and keep her bulk upright. They remind me strongly of Central American alligators in build, though their vertical jaws and lack of eyes are clear specializations to their environment. She inhaled and exhaled several times, and then simply fell back into the canopy. The noise of her impact was clearly audible even at our height!
Send Brian and Palmer my salutations. Be at ease Vanessa, for our solar cells remain stable and the frame of our ship is standing up to the winds. We will complete the crossing in two months, well on schedule. You will receive another letter in two weeks, keep the bird's cage clean and stocked.
All my love,
Rebecca. |
There was no daylight, just darkness. Everything here is blind, yet they can still smell me. They can hear me. And they know I'm afraid.
Why was I such a fool to enter this place?!? I ran out of food.... days ago. This oceanic tree forest of the Marina Trench valley is so cruel...so cold...so dark...
I have forgotten what it was to stop and rest, to see the light of day.
I'll I do is run, and hope they forget I'm here.
All I do is run now...no rest, no retierment.
Just run
I run through the trees, and I force my way to the undergrowth of the twisted vines, when I hear them.
My God, I though, they've found me again! And I'm stuck.
I try to force my way out, but whatever remains of my cloths is stuck on the twisted vines. I can fell the blood pouring down on my legs and arms, crimson rivers that will stain this floor of the forest.
I can hear them clearer now. I hear them march across the forest, knocking down trees due to their blindness.
The hulking, massive creatures turn to me, and snarl in their multiple mouths.
The teeth of these creatures is all yelllowed, and cracked. Inside of their mouths, were hundreads of tounges, and on those tounges even more teeth.
The shaggy creatures were going to kill me now, and I just tried to keep escaping.
But this thick undergrowth was too strong, and it just ripped my flesh into piecces even more.
I knew this was my end, so, I closed my eyes, and waited.
And I asked the questions, and tried to answer them.
What was the point of this? To proove myself in a world that turned its back on me? To gain fame and fortuen for myself? So I could just do it?
Whatever it was, I was going to die.
So, I closed my eyes, and waited. | |
[WP] Instead of Oceans, they are all big forests, that gets taller and darker instead of deeper, with more dangerous animals living further out in the forest. A person decides to cross the Mariana Trench | The Marina Trench.
A few days ago, I had decided to cross it. Many had said that those who did, that those who dared to enter its dark wood and clumped foliage and survive the dangers of creatures that became more violent the closer to the center you got, and those who did indeed survive and crossed the other side, would emerge as legend.
Damn it. I wanted to be a legend. Who wouldn't? My name would be passed down through history, the textbooks spelling my name across its pages as "The Man Who Crossed the Marina Trench", "The Man Who Had No Fear", "The Man Who Conquered Death".
But now... Now, as I stare into the heart of this place, I realized it was my gravest mistake.
The trees had grown so dark that they were pitch black, so close together that the sky could not be seen, so silent that I could hear my own heart beating. I was standing but it seemed I was in an abyss of nothingness, a purgatory beyond this world, though I knew I was alive. The eternal blackness surrounded me; the ground below my weak feet was so invisible that the only way I knew it was there was the fact I was not falling.
I was slowly taking steps at this point, going in the same direction I had been going for so long now. I no longer felt hunger; I had foot in a backpack strapped to my shoulder, though my stomach had not growled in quite some time. My body was cold but I did not shiver; my eyes saw nothing though I knew they saw everything; my chest heaved in and out with every breathe, but the air was dense and cool and heavy. Everything seemed so unnatural, so distant, so unreal.
Was I even alive anymore?
I kept onward. Every now and then I would feel the brush of foliage nearby and I would push it away with my fingertips. I so wished to see these plants, the way its leaves stuck out, the vines wrapped around the nearby trees, the animal life feasting on its valuable nectar, but I saw nothing. My hands were my eyes, and my eyes were useless to me. I was a man with four senses now.
And when you lost a sense, you went mad. What man, when losing sight or smell or taste, would remain sane? A part of him was destroyed, and thus he himself was destroyed. I refused to believe I was this way. I was still alive and still moving and still breathing and I would become legend.
*Rustle*.
I stopped mid-step. My heart pounded violently against my chest, beating faster and faster, the blood being pushed to my brain and to my hands, my cold cold hands. I reached around to my backpack - *rustle* - and my hand found the thing. The thing on the side. I had no need for this thing yet - I had nearly forgotten I had it with me - because there was no need. I had seen nothing so far on my way through this place yet it was for safekeeping - *rustle*.
The noise was coming closer. The leaves were moving around behind me. I could hear the footsteps, the feet on soil and gravel, coming closer and closer to me. Did they know I was here? Did they know that in this darkness was another person? The hand was around the handle. I drew it around as quietly as I could, bringing it to my grasp. I rotated my feet ever so slightly.
Silence.
Oh, the silence. So maddening. So infuriating.
So dangerous.
The footstep came close. They were a few feet in-front of me.
The thing came down as another footstep sounded.
Blood-curled screams.
I bashed again and again and again on the creature - now I knew to be a man - near me. I felt the blood smear across my face, painting me red like his body. He was crying for help, pleading for me to have mercy, but my hands kept crashing down against his skull. I would be the legend. I would conquer the Marina Trench. My hands were over him. The axe was chipping his brain. His screams were dying and he was dying and I could see the fading of his eyes although I saw nothing.
There was silence again.
I put the thing on my side again. I was breathing but I did not feel alive. Never had I murdered in my life; never had I ended another life before.
Never had I felt so alive.
I wandered away, letting my hands guide me. No one would be legend. I would be.
But then I stopped. It hit me. They said there were dangerous animals around here, yet I had seen none. The only thing I had seen was this man, the one who was defenseless, who had only cried for help. Were we...
No. I pushed the thought away. I could not be the animal. There was no way.
I went onward into the surrounding darkness. Within a few days time, I would be a legend, and damn it I would stop at nothing to attain it. |
There was no daylight, just darkness. Everything here is blind, yet they can still smell me. They can hear me. And they know I'm afraid.
Why was I such a fool to enter this place?!? I ran out of food.... days ago. This oceanic tree forest of the Marina Trench valley is so cruel...so cold...so dark...
I have forgotten what it was to stop and rest, to see the light of day.
I'll I do is run, and hope they forget I'm here.
All I do is run now...no rest, no retierment.
Just run
I run through the trees, and I force my way to the undergrowth of the twisted vines, when I hear them.
My God, I though, they've found me again! And I'm stuck.
I try to force my way out, but whatever remains of my cloths is stuck on the twisted vines. I can fell the blood pouring down on my legs and arms, crimson rivers that will stain this floor of the forest.
I can hear them clearer now. I hear them march across the forest, knocking down trees due to their blindness.
The hulking, massive creatures turn to me, and snarl in their multiple mouths.
The teeth of these creatures is all yelllowed, and cracked. Inside of their mouths, were hundreads of tounges, and on those tounges even more teeth.
The shaggy creatures were going to kill me now, and I just tried to keep escaping.
But this thick undergrowth was too strong, and it just ripped my flesh into piecces even more.
I knew this was my end, so, I closed my eyes, and waited.
And I asked the questions, and tried to answer them.
What was the point of this? To proove myself in a world that turned its back on me? To gain fame and fortuen for myself? So I could just do it?
Whatever it was, I was going to die.
So, I closed my eyes, and waited. | |
[WP] Instead of Oceans, they are all big forests, that gets taller and darker instead of deeper, with more dangerous animals living further out in the forest. A person decides to cross the Mariana Trench | Few men have ever tried to cross the Mariana jungle. Those who have are yet to return. While they tell me i'll die, I know I'm gonna be the first to do it.
The trees aren't too tall on the eastern coast of the Philippines, but you can't look far into the horizons before the looming wooden pillars block the sun. My cameraman is at my side, a nervous look on his face. The people at the beach are staring, I can't blame them considering what we're wearing. Our forest navigation gear and large backpacks don't match the local style much.
"Ready?" I ask Tom. He looks back at me, "As ready as I'll ever be, I suppose".
We make our way towards the trees. They're spread out for now, few shrubs stand in our path. The muddy earth already sticks to our boots, but I can't be hindered by dirt. I march on, Tom close behind.
"What are you expecting to find?" He asks, looking back at the beach. "Whatever it is that's killed those before us, I hope. We'll be the first to bring back it's bones!" I can tell my determined look scares him. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't shitting my pants, but this expedition will prove valuable to ecologists around the globe.
We carry rifles, but my main weapon will be my flood light. The animals out there won't be used to anything that bright, if I'm right it should scare them off, while lighting them up perfectly for some pictures. The air is already fairly thin, and it's getting darker every hour we march on. I talk little to Tom, I've never been one for small talk and I know he doesn't mind. The silence is calming to me. A few monkeys crawl around the trees, meters high by now, but we aren't nearly deep enough in yet to worry about wildlife. We came for that which no man has seen before, we haven't even made a new record for deepest expedition yet.
We march on, as the leaves grow denser and sunlight becomes rarer. We soon switch to our lights, and the roots and shrubs make the ground hard to walk on.
"It's been six hours." Tom says after countless silent steps. "It's already ten o clock." Not having sun messes with your sense of time more than I expected. It seemed like it had only been an hour ago since we left the coast. "Alright" I reply, walking on. "When do you want to take a break?". "About now actually" he says, stopping. "I'm already hungry."
"We only have food for three weeks, we aren't even half way yet." It's cruel, but the forest is crueler. We need to ration our supplies if we want to make it. "Can you wait another hour or two?" I keep walking, and he soon is forced to catch up. "Fair enough..." He's tired, I know. So am I, but sleeping will slow is down too much. It has to wait.
And we march on. | September 22, 2035
"This is the first day that I have decided to start using this damned audio recorder. My doctor thought it would help keep my head on straight while I was heading on what he called," a mad mans journey" but I say, Screw him! The guy was a crackpot anyway."
September 25, 2035
"These trees are getting really creepy. I lost all natural light about noon today, and all of the normal animals like deer, rabbits, and birds are gone now. This whole trip is starting to seem like a bad idea, but screw it, I'm gonna see what the hell is up with this big trench. I remember some crazy old man shouting something about the trench, but it was probably just meaningless nonsense."
September 27, 2035
"According to the directions I got from the forest master near the treeline, the trench should be only a half a days journey. I'm glad I'm almost there, because my rations are almost at the halfway mark, and at this point, I won't have enough to make it back.
About half a day after my last recording, almost all normal animals have disappeared. Save for all kinds of creepy insects and plants, I haven't seen anything except for these freaky-ass trees. I finally remembered that the crazy old guy down by the treeline claimed to have been to the trench and seen a great monster that lived there. supposedly it tried to lure in travellers by sounding like a woman asking for help, but if you listened closely, you could tell that it was actually the monster. An interesting story, but the geezer was as nutty as it gets, so I don't give it much credit."
September 29, 2035
"Finally made it to the trench and might I say, it is creepy as hell. The trees just kind of drop off into a rocky cliff, and I can't see anything down there. I can barely see anything as it is, I have to use a headlamp to see at all."
*snap*
"What the hell was that?"
"Please... I need..."
"Hold on just as second! what do you need?"
" I need..."
"Is it food? Are you injured?"
" I need about tree fiddy."
" OH GOD NO!!!"
*bones snapping, screaming, and flesh tearing*
*The great reptilian beast lifts it's head from the new corpse*
" Nessie, you've outdone yourself this time." | |
[WP] Instead of Oceans, they are all big forests, that gets taller and darker instead of deeper, with more dangerous animals living further out in the forest. A person decides to cross the Mariana Trench | Cool wind whipped around my body, blowing my hood off and exposing my head to the freezing air. My numb fingers passed my numbing ears, and reclaimed the hood, pulling it around me once more. It hardly offered respite from the cold. The most insulating fabrics on my body felt diaphanous in those conditions.
We were deep. Deeper than any man had ever been. The trees around us stretched inexorably upwards, endlessly high, creeping towards the sunlight and claiming it all for themselves. The path behind us was visible only when illuminated by the beams of our flashlights and the path before us did not yet exist. We wordlessly hacked our way through the thick underbrush, winding a serpentine route through the increasingly arduous terrain. The off-road vehicle carrying our supplies and sleeping quarters lurched slowly behind me.
There were four of us, myself and three others. Four of the most seasoned explorers of forest regions in the world- Cook, Magellan, Vespucci, and Columbus, you might have called us, had you looked towards the famous tales of seafaring explorers for inspiration. Our story, however, was not one of fiction. The seventy percent of the earth covered by these dense woodlands remained largely unexplored, and our intent was to conquer the largest of the unexplored, the Marianas Trench. Over fifteen hundred miles deep, the trench was the lowest point on earth, and contained creatures so strange and gruesome, some say it must have stretched deep enough to crack into hell itself and free the demons from their fiery prison.
Hulbert was our leader, a tall man with a large mustache, offset by his mostly bald head. He and I were typically in front, snaking our way through the undergrowth like a scouting party behind enemy lines. Iaquinta, Hulbert’s antithesis, a short, tanned man with a thick shock of black hair, could often be found behind the wheel, and Ulrich, lanky young man with blond hair, spent most of his time substituting in for Hulbert or I, when one of us acquiesced a break.
We made slow progress initially, but after about one day, our party hit its stride, and we began moving at a steady rate. We had anticipated smooth sailing, however plans rarely go as expected, and ours was no exception.
| September 22, 2035
"This is the first day that I have decided to start using this damned audio recorder. My doctor thought it would help keep my head on straight while I was heading on what he called," a mad mans journey" but I say, Screw him! The guy was a crackpot anyway."
September 25, 2035
"These trees are getting really creepy. I lost all natural light about noon today, and all of the normal animals like deer, rabbits, and birds are gone now. This whole trip is starting to seem like a bad idea, but screw it, I'm gonna see what the hell is up with this big trench. I remember some crazy old man shouting something about the trench, but it was probably just meaningless nonsense."
September 27, 2035
"According to the directions I got from the forest master near the treeline, the trench should be only a half a days journey. I'm glad I'm almost there, because my rations are almost at the halfway mark, and at this point, I won't have enough to make it back.
About half a day after my last recording, almost all normal animals have disappeared. Save for all kinds of creepy insects and plants, I haven't seen anything except for these freaky-ass trees. I finally remembered that the crazy old guy down by the treeline claimed to have been to the trench and seen a great monster that lived there. supposedly it tried to lure in travellers by sounding like a woman asking for help, but if you listened closely, you could tell that it was actually the monster. An interesting story, but the geezer was as nutty as it gets, so I don't give it much credit."
September 29, 2035
"Finally made it to the trench and might I say, it is creepy as hell. The trees just kind of drop off into a rocky cliff, and I can't see anything down there. I can barely see anything as it is, I have to use a headlamp to see at all."
*snap*
"What the hell was that?"
"Please... I need..."
"Hold on just as second! what do you need?"
" I need..."
"Is it food? Are you injured?"
" I need about tree fiddy."
" OH GOD NO!!!"
*bones snapping, screaming, and flesh tearing*
*The great reptilian beast lifts it's head from the new corpse*
" Nessie, you've outdone yourself this time." | |
[WP] Instead of Oceans, they are all big forests, that gets taller and darker instead of deeper, with more dangerous animals living further out in the forest. A person decides to cross the Mariana Trench | They say that nature reclaims everything. That, given time, she will always heal, grow, survive hardship, and come out stronger for having endured it. Continents may shift, disasters ravage the land, volcanoes have filled the sky with ash and coated the ground in rock. And still nature emerges. Tenacious. Enduring. Overcoming. And now, she is recovering from the greatest infection she has ever experienced.
Humanity.
With their glass and concrete spires, ribbons of asphalt creating an artificial webbing across once-verdant landscapes, blue waters turning black from pollution and waste. Humanity had taken over. And nature had fought back, furious at the exploitation of her bounty. She retaliated, and humanity had lost. Humanity was dying, and Mother Nature was recycling civilizations' carcass. This event is known as the Reclamation.
They say that, long ago, the Great Forests were once massive bodies of water. Some say that nature covered them over with the trees, to prevent the toxins of man from harming them. The Great Pacific Forest was supposedly where the first of the trees grew from. Near a land once known as 'Mariana.' That is where the most gargantuan of the wooden sentinels stand.
Men have seen their world of steel and glass slowly returning to the earth, and sought a way to regain the control over the world that they once had. If they could find a way to halt, or at least slow down, the advance of nature and the Reclamation, then they would have something to strive for. They would have hope, even a shard of it, that they too wouldn't be forgotten beneath the foliage.
Many valiant groups have searched, braving the Great Forests in an attempt to find something, anything, that could help. To find that sliver of hope, that tiny spark that they could clutch and feel that they still had a chance.
One such spark was found near the old Mariana.
The remaining world leaders have sent many groups of explorers into the towering trees, but for every ten men that went out, only two would come back. And they would return with bizarre reports of creatures. Things that hunt beneath the arboreal pillars, and have only grown beneath that primeval canopy. Beasts that appeared... far more intelligent than any animal had a right to be. Could they have found the source, the font of nature's rampant growth? The key to stopping it, deep within it's own core? We may never find out. For even these reports were from many years ago.
Today, few have the resources, or even the strength of will, to venture into the vast groves that have claimed so many before them. Many were small bands of people with nothing to lose, the grim determination of those who have learned not to hope, not to expect anything to come from their endeavors.
This is where our story begins, with one who has nothing, but is searching for that spark of hope that humanity so desperately needs... | September 22, 2035
"This is the first day that I have decided to start using this damned audio recorder. My doctor thought it would help keep my head on straight while I was heading on what he called," a mad mans journey" but I say, Screw him! The guy was a crackpot anyway."
September 25, 2035
"These trees are getting really creepy. I lost all natural light about noon today, and all of the normal animals like deer, rabbits, and birds are gone now. This whole trip is starting to seem like a bad idea, but screw it, I'm gonna see what the hell is up with this big trench. I remember some crazy old man shouting something about the trench, but it was probably just meaningless nonsense."
September 27, 2035
"According to the directions I got from the forest master near the treeline, the trench should be only a half a days journey. I'm glad I'm almost there, because my rations are almost at the halfway mark, and at this point, I won't have enough to make it back.
About half a day after my last recording, almost all normal animals have disappeared. Save for all kinds of creepy insects and plants, I haven't seen anything except for these freaky-ass trees. I finally remembered that the crazy old guy down by the treeline claimed to have been to the trench and seen a great monster that lived there. supposedly it tried to lure in travellers by sounding like a woman asking for help, but if you listened closely, you could tell that it was actually the monster. An interesting story, but the geezer was as nutty as it gets, so I don't give it much credit."
September 29, 2035
"Finally made it to the trench and might I say, it is creepy as hell. The trees just kind of drop off into a rocky cliff, and I can't see anything down there. I can barely see anything as it is, I have to use a headlamp to see at all."
*snap*
"What the hell was that?"
"Please... I need..."
"Hold on just as second! what do you need?"
" I need..."
"Is it food? Are you injured?"
" I need about tree fiddy."
" OH GOD NO!!!"
*bones snapping, screaming, and flesh tearing*
*The great reptilian beast lifts it's head from the new corpse*
" Nessie, you've outdone yourself this time." | |
[WP] Instead of Oceans, they are all big forests, that gets taller and darker instead of deeper, with more dangerous animals living further out in the forest. A person decides to cross the Mariana Trench | The conquistador stopped in his tracks. Before him, the vast endless forest lay before him.
He paused for a breath, as if he was taking a plunge. This was it. There was no turning back now. From here on, the only way was down.
The conquistador, walked along the tight trodden path down a steep decline. Behind him was a small 20-man company of lightly armoured soldiers, carefully following his every step.
Around them, the forest was thick and impenetrable – the path being the welcome exception. All around the men were sounds of life – birds singing, rustle of leaves blowing in the wind. The searing sun illuminated their path between the sparse trees.
To the uninitiated, the forest seemed like any normal one. Yet the ominous nature of it was not lost on any of the travelers.
The conquistador, Ferdinand Pizarro, knew what the maps had labeled this forest as: The Great Forest. This was the great uncharted territory. Nothing was shown here on the maps but it‘s outline.
No one had ever traveled more than a few days down. No one – until, hopefully, now. The secrets of the forest, and hopefully vast riches, would finally come to bear.
But it wasn‘t it‘s secrets that worried him.
He knew what local village called it: The Void. It was an unholy place. For centuries it was strictly forbidden to travel even to the border of the forest at nightfall. Those who did, often told stories of unusual encounters with terrible creatures with many legs or several eyes.
Those who dared to even venture into the forest never ventured particularly deep – and of those who did, if they came back at all, seemingly lost their mind.
Every villager knew countless stories of the sights those poor people claim to have witnessed: strange beasts flying in the air, and a darkness that made the night sky seem like a welcome sun, or terrible growling sounds emanating from deep within.
Ferdinand took off his helmet and put it into the carriage; the sweat was piling up. He himself was no stranger to travel. After all, it was him who was personally selected by the Queen to lead this mission. The Queen had heard of other heads of state starting to explore their nearby forests, each as unexplored as the last. Some went disastrously, with the mission never to be seen again. But some, particularly the short ones, were successful beyond their wildest dreams, even finding new lands on the other side.
It was easy to select Ferdinand – a world traveler, a veteran of war, and a renowned figure in the whole of Spain.
His skills were needed to the utmost now, however. God may have helped him fight against his human enemies, but what of the foe who is unknown, unpredictable, even incomprehensible? How will the almighty protect him against such a monster? He prayed that he may escape this trial alive, yet quitting was not an option.
The hours passed. The men, loyal to him, showed no signs of weariness.
However, the ground had quickly became harsher. The green forest growth was now few and far between. Ferdinand could now see between the trees, and at certain angles eve somewhat far ahead.
However, darkness was creeping in.
The tree stems had grown larger, supporting the mostly naked stems, who reached hundreds of metres into the air, ending in a small, green, glittery collection of leaves high above. Some sunbeams managed to break in down below, further accentuating the dim space the mission was now in.
Suddenly, Ferdinand stopped dead in his tracks and stared ahead of him.
„Men, stop!“. The sound of the horse‘s clattering and the men‘s sporadic chatter died down.
„Silence!“. The forest had now died down to the point that there was absolute silence, outside of faint bird songs in the skies above them.
„What is the matter, sir?“ A man dressed similarly to Ferdinand, but with a lower ranking insignia, walked up to him.
„I could swear I heard a voice in the distance.“
„That‘s impossible, sir. No one is here but us.“ Christopher, Ferdinand‘s right hand, skimmed the area in front of him.
Suddenly, he heard it too. A faint call in the distance before them: „Help! Please!“
Ferdinand sprints ahead. Christopher follows him, telling the men: „Onwards, quickly!“
However, as Christopher saw Ferdinand running far ahead of him, he couldn‘t help but to suspect something strange about the voice. He saw the pitch-black darkness in the distance and felt an unease he thought long forgotten.
-----
Thanks for reading! Please upvote this post to let me know if you want another part :)
| September 22, 2035
"This is the first day that I have decided to start using this damned audio recorder. My doctor thought it would help keep my head on straight while I was heading on what he called," a mad mans journey" but I say, Screw him! The guy was a crackpot anyway."
September 25, 2035
"These trees are getting really creepy. I lost all natural light about noon today, and all of the normal animals like deer, rabbits, and birds are gone now. This whole trip is starting to seem like a bad idea, but screw it, I'm gonna see what the hell is up with this big trench. I remember some crazy old man shouting something about the trench, but it was probably just meaningless nonsense."
September 27, 2035
"According to the directions I got from the forest master near the treeline, the trench should be only a half a days journey. I'm glad I'm almost there, because my rations are almost at the halfway mark, and at this point, I won't have enough to make it back.
About half a day after my last recording, almost all normal animals have disappeared. Save for all kinds of creepy insects and plants, I haven't seen anything except for these freaky-ass trees. I finally remembered that the crazy old guy down by the treeline claimed to have been to the trench and seen a great monster that lived there. supposedly it tried to lure in travellers by sounding like a woman asking for help, but if you listened closely, you could tell that it was actually the monster. An interesting story, but the geezer was as nutty as it gets, so I don't give it much credit."
September 29, 2035
"Finally made it to the trench and might I say, it is creepy as hell. The trees just kind of drop off into a rocky cliff, and I can't see anything down there. I can barely see anything as it is, I have to use a headlamp to see at all."
*snap*
"What the hell was that?"
"Please... I need..."
"Hold on just as second! what do you need?"
" I need..."
"Is it food? Are you injured?"
" I need about tree fiddy."
" OH GOD NO!!!"
*bones snapping, screaming, and flesh tearing*
*The great reptilian beast lifts it's head from the new corpse*
" Nessie, you've outdone yourself this time." | |
[WP] Instead of Oceans, they are all big forests, that gets taller and darker instead of deeper, with more dangerous animals living further out in the forest. A person decides to cross the Mariana Trench | Few men have ever tried to cross the Mariana jungle. Those who have are yet to return. While they tell me i'll die, I know I'm gonna be the first to do it.
The trees aren't too tall on the eastern coast of the Philippines, but you can't look far into the horizons before the looming wooden pillars block the sun. My cameraman is at my side, a nervous look on his face. The people at the beach are staring, I can't blame them considering what we're wearing. Our forest navigation gear and large backpacks don't match the local style much.
"Ready?" I ask Tom. He looks back at me, "As ready as I'll ever be, I suppose".
We make our way towards the trees. They're spread out for now, few shrubs stand in our path. The muddy earth already sticks to our boots, but I can't be hindered by dirt. I march on, Tom close behind.
"What are you expecting to find?" He asks, looking back at the beach. "Whatever it is that's killed those before us, I hope. We'll be the first to bring back it's bones!" I can tell my determined look scares him. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't shitting my pants, but this expedition will prove valuable to ecologists around the globe.
We carry rifles, but my main weapon will be my flood light. The animals out there won't be used to anything that bright, if I'm right it should scare them off, while lighting them up perfectly for some pictures. The air is already fairly thin, and it's getting darker every hour we march on. I talk little to Tom, I've never been one for small talk and I know he doesn't mind. The silence is calming to me. A few monkeys crawl around the trees, meters high by now, but we aren't nearly deep enough in yet to worry about wildlife. We came for that which no man has seen before, we haven't even made a new record for deepest expedition yet.
We march on, as the leaves grow denser and sunlight becomes rarer. We soon switch to our lights, and the roots and shrubs make the ground hard to walk on.
"It's been six hours." Tom says after countless silent steps. "It's already ten o clock." Not having sun messes with your sense of time more than I expected. It seemed like it had only been an hour ago since we left the coast. "Alright" I reply, walking on. "When do you want to take a break?". "About now actually" he says, stopping. "I'm already hungry."
"We only have food for three weeks, we aren't even half way yet." It's cruel, but the forest is crueler. We need to ration our supplies if we want to make it. "Can you wait another hour or two?" I keep walking, and he soon is forced to catch up. "Fair enough..." He's tired, I know. So am I, but sleeping will slow is down too much. It has to wait.
And we march on. | Crossing the vastly unexplored trench seemed like a good idea at the time. Imagine the headlines - world's most daring explorer.
But the darkness was absolute. The length of the trees were almost eternal. The circumference of the trees themselves would take hours to completely travel around. And that was just an estimation. Daylight is just a myth.`
The darkness was expected. I was prepared. But there was something else. The creatures. This is where prehistoric animals still exist. Creatures that haven't seen daylight since their ancestors descended through the forest to seek shelter from the apocalypse millennia's ago. Some of them have almost unprecedented sizes. You stumble across an animal so small, you can easily grab it and eat it. Then you come across animals so large, you thank whatever God you believe in that they can't see the thin prick of light illuminating the way from your hands.
I know I'm being hunted. These creatures, they can't even see. Eyes are useless at this point. The darkness is so strong, so infinite, so consuming, that nothing can see. Daylight is a myth. I estimate a creature roughly the size of a bear is coming for me. I've seen it. It's funny that a creature with no sight still has eyes so large it's almost comical. Silvery mottled skin with transparent patches. Scars cover it's body. It might be the size of a bear, but that's the only thing it has in common with a bear. The jagged teeth so sharp and so irregularly placed that they have cut through the creature's cheeks on an almost daily basis.
I am going to die.
The sweeping winds mask my scent, but only hasten my death. Even the trees cannot shelter me, for the wind seems to come from every direction. I was not prepared for this. The cold, cold so bad it simply hurts where it touches. Cold so horrific your bones are cold. To feel it in your bones...
This will be my last entry in my video journal. My final moments on this Earth will be spent alone, in the cold and the dark. Daylight is a myth. Even my flash light will only illuminate the way so far. The darkness simply consumes it.
I can see the creature. It has been standing there since I've started, close enough for the flash light to reflect off its eyes. Why has it been waiting? More important, how does it know where I am when it can't see?
| |
[WP] Instead of Oceans, they are all big forests, that gets taller and darker instead of deeper, with more dangerous animals living further out in the forest. A person decides to cross the Mariana Trench | Cool wind whipped around my body, blowing my hood off and exposing my head to the freezing air. My numb fingers passed my numbing ears, and reclaimed the hood, pulling it around me once more. It hardly offered respite from the cold. The most insulating fabrics on my body felt diaphanous in those conditions.
We were deep. Deeper than any man had ever been. The trees around us stretched inexorably upwards, endlessly high, creeping towards the sunlight and claiming it all for themselves. The path behind us was visible only when illuminated by the beams of our flashlights and the path before us did not yet exist. We wordlessly hacked our way through the thick underbrush, winding a serpentine route through the increasingly arduous terrain. The off-road vehicle carrying our supplies and sleeping quarters lurched slowly behind me.
There were four of us, myself and three others. Four of the most seasoned explorers of forest regions in the world- Cook, Magellan, Vespucci, and Columbus, you might have called us, had you looked towards the famous tales of seafaring explorers for inspiration. Our story, however, was not one of fiction. The seventy percent of the earth covered by these dense woodlands remained largely unexplored, and our intent was to conquer the largest of the unexplored, the Marianas Trench. Over fifteen hundred miles deep, the trench was the lowest point on earth, and contained creatures so strange and gruesome, some say it must have stretched deep enough to crack into hell itself and free the demons from their fiery prison.
Hulbert was our leader, a tall man with a large mustache, offset by his mostly bald head. He and I were typically in front, snaking our way through the undergrowth like a scouting party behind enemy lines. Iaquinta, Hulbert’s antithesis, a short, tanned man with a thick shock of black hair, could often be found behind the wheel, and Ulrich, lanky young man with blond hair, spent most of his time substituting in for Hulbert or I, when one of us acquiesced a break.
We made slow progress initially, but after about one day, our party hit its stride, and we began moving at a steady rate. We had anticipated smooth sailing, however plans rarely go as expected, and ours was no exception.
| Crossing the vastly unexplored trench seemed like a good idea at the time. Imagine the headlines - world's most daring explorer.
But the darkness was absolute. The length of the trees were almost eternal. The circumference of the trees themselves would take hours to completely travel around. And that was just an estimation. Daylight is just a myth.`
The darkness was expected. I was prepared. But there was something else. The creatures. This is where prehistoric animals still exist. Creatures that haven't seen daylight since their ancestors descended through the forest to seek shelter from the apocalypse millennia's ago. Some of them have almost unprecedented sizes. You stumble across an animal so small, you can easily grab it and eat it. Then you come across animals so large, you thank whatever God you believe in that they can't see the thin prick of light illuminating the way from your hands.
I know I'm being hunted. These creatures, they can't even see. Eyes are useless at this point. The darkness is so strong, so infinite, so consuming, that nothing can see. Daylight is a myth. I estimate a creature roughly the size of a bear is coming for me. I've seen it. It's funny that a creature with no sight still has eyes so large it's almost comical. Silvery mottled skin with transparent patches. Scars cover it's body. It might be the size of a bear, but that's the only thing it has in common with a bear. The jagged teeth so sharp and so irregularly placed that they have cut through the creature's cheeks on an almost daily basis.
I am going to die.
The sweeping winds mask my scent, but only hasten my death. Even the trees cannot shelter me, for the wind seems to come from every direction. I was not prepared for this. The cold, cold so bad it simply hurts where it touches. Cold so horrific your bones are cold. To feel it in your bones...
This will be my last entry in my video journal. My final moments on this Earth will be spent alone, in the cold and the dark. Daylight is a myth. Even my flash light will only illuminate the way so far. The darkness simply consumes it.
I can see the creature. It has been standing there since I've started, close enough for the flash light to reflect off its eyes. Why has it been waiting? More important, how does it know where I am when it can't see?
| |
[WP] Instead of Oceans, they are all big forests, that gets taller and darker instead of deeper, with more dangerous animals living further out in the forest. A person decides to cross the Mariana Trench | The conquistador stopped in his tracks. Before him, the vast endless forest lay before him.
He paused for a breath, as if he was taking a plunge. This was it. There was no turning back now. From here on, the only way was down.
The conquistador, walked along the tight trodden path down a steep decline. Behind him was a small 20-man company of lightly armoured soldiers, carefully following his every step.
Around them, the forest was thick and impenetrable – the path being the welcome exception. All around the men were sounds of life – birds singing, rustle of leaves blowing in the wind. The searing sun illuminated their path between the sparse trees.
To the uninitiated, the forest seemed like any normal one. Yet the ominous nature of it was not lost on any of the travelers.
The conquistador, Ferdinand Pizarro, knew what the maps had labeled this forest as: The Great Forest. This was the great uncharted territory. Nothing was shown here on the maps but it‘s outline.
No one had ever traveled more than a few days down. No one – until, hopefully, now. The secrets of the forest, and hopefully vast riches, would finally come to bear.
But it wasn‘t it‘s secrets that worried him.
He knew what local village called it: The Void. It was an unholy place. For centuries it was strictly forbidden to travel even to the border of the forest at nightfall. Those who did, often told stories of unusual encounters with terrible creatures with many legs or several eyes.
Those who dared to even venture into the forest never ventured particularly deep – and of those who did, if they came back at all, seemingly lost their mind.
Every villager knew countless stories of the sights those poor people claim to have witnessed: strange beasts flying in the air, and a darkness that made the night sky seem like a welcome sun, or terrible growling sounds emanating from deep within.
Ferdinand took off his helmet and put it into the carriage; the sweat was piling up. He himself was no stranger to travel. After all, it was him who was personally selected by the Queen to lead this mission. The Queen had heard of other heads of state starting to explore their nearby forests, each as unexplored as the last. Some went disastrously, with the mission never to be seen again. But some, particularly the short ones, were successful beyond their wildest dreams, even finding new lands on the other side.
It was easy to select Ferdinand – a world traveler, a veteran of war, and a renowned figure in the whole of Spain.
His skills were needed to the utmost now, however. God may have helped him fight against his human enemies, but what of the foe who is unknown, unpredictable, even incomprehensible? How will the almighty protect him against such a monster? He prayed that he may escape this trial alive, yet quitting was not an option.
The hours passed. The men, loyal to him, showed no signs of weariness.
However, the ground had quickly became harsher. The green forest growth was now few and far between. Ferdinand could now see between the trees, and at certain angles eve somewhat far ahead.
However, darkness was creeping in.
The tree stems had grown larger, supporting the mostly naked stems, who reached hundreds of metres into the air, ending in a small, green, glittery collection of leaves high above. Some sunbeams managed to break in down below, further accentuating the dim space the mission was now in.
Suddenly, Ferdinand stopped dead in his tracks and stared ahead of him.
„Men, stop!“. The sound of the horse‘s clattering and the men‘s sporadic chatter died down.
„Silence!“. The forest had now died down to the point that there was absolute silence, outside of faint bird songs in the skies above them.
„What is the matter, sir?“ A man dressed similarly to Ferdinand, but with a lower ranking insignia, walked up to him.
„I could swear I heard a voice in the distance.“
„That‘s impossible, sir. No one is here but us.“ Christopher, Ferdinand‘s right hand, skimmed the area in front of him.
Suddenly, he heard it too. A faint call in the distance before them: „Help! Please!“
Ferdinand sprints ahead. Christopher follows him, telling the men: „Onwards, quickly!“
However, as Christopher saw Ferdinand running far ahead of him, he couldn‘t help but to suspect something strange about the voice. He saw the pitch-black darkness in the distance and felt an unease he thought long forgotten.
-----
Thanks for reading! Please upvote this post to let me know if you want another part :)
| Crossing the vastly unexplored trench seemed like a good idea at the time. Imagine the headlines - world's most daring explorer.
But the darkness was absolute. The length of the trees were almost eternal. The circumference of the trees themselves would take hours to completely travel around. And that was just an estimation. Daylight is just a myth.`
The darkness was expected. I was prepared. But there was something else. The creatures. This is where prehistoric animals still exist. Creatures that haven't seen daylight since their ancestors descended through the forest to seek shelter from the apocalypse millennia's ago. Some of them have almost unprecedented sizes. You stumble across an animal so small, you can easily grab it and eat it. Then you come across animals so large, you thank whatever God you believe in that they can't see the thin prick of light illuminating the way from your hands.
I know I'm being hunted. These creatures, they can't even see. Eyes are useless at this point. The darkness is so strong, so infinite, so consuming, that nothing can see. Daylight is a myth. I estimate a creature roughly the size of a bear is coming for me. I've seen it. It's funny that a creature with no sight still has eyes so large it's almost comical. Silvery mottled skin with transparent patches. Scars cover it's body. It might be the size of a bear, but that's the only thing it has in common with a bear. The jagged teeth so sharp and so irregularly placed that they have cut through the creature's cheeks on an almost daily basis.
I am going to die.
The sweeping winds mask my scent, but only hasten my death. Even the trees cannot shelter me, for the wind seems to come from every direction. I was not prepared for this. The cold, cold so bad it simply hurts where it touches. Cold so horrific your bones are cold. To feel it in your bones...
This will be my last entry in my video journal. My final moments on this Earth will be spent alone, in the cold and the dark. Daylight is a myth. Even my flash light will only illuminate the way so far. The darkness simply consumes it.
I can see the creature. It has been standing there since I've started, close enough for the flash light to reflect off its eyes. Why has it been waiting? More important, how does it know where I am when it can't see?
| |
[WP] Instead of Oceans, they are all big forests, that gets taller and darker instead of deeper, with more dangerous animals living further out in the forest. A person decides to cross the Mariana Trench | The conquistador stopped in his tracks. Before him, the vast endless forest lay before him.
He paused for a breath, as if he was taking a plunge. This was it. There was no turning back now. From here on, the only way was down.
The conquistador, walked along the tight trodden path down a steep decline. Behind him was a small 20-man company of lightly armoured soldiers, carefully following his every step.
Around them, the forest was thick and impenetrable – the path being the welcome exception. All around the men were sounds of life – birds singing, rustle of leaves blowing in the wind. The searing sun illuminated their path between the sparse trees.
To the uninitiated, the forest seemed like any normal one. Yet the ominous nature of it was not lost on any of the travelers.
The conquistador, Ferdinand Pizarro, knew what the maps had labeled this forest as: The Great Forest. This was the great uncharted territory. Nothing was shown here on the maps but it‘s outline.
No one had ever traveled more than a few days down. No one – until, hopefully, now. The secrets of the forest, and hopefully vast riches, would finally come to bear.
But it wasn‘t it‘s secrets that worried him.
He knew what local village called it: The Void. It was an unholy place. For centuries it was strictly forbidden to travel even to the border of the forest at nightfall. Those who did, often told stories of unusual encounters with terrible creatures with many legs or several eyes.
Those who dared to even venture into the forest never ventured particularly deep – and of those who did, if they came back at all, seemingly lost their mind.
Every villager knew countless stories of the sights those poor people claim to have witnessed: strange beasts flying in the air, and a darkness that made the night sky seem like a welcome sun, or terrible growling sounds emanating from deep within.
Ferdinand took off his helmet and put it into the carriage; the sweat was piling up. He himself was no stranger to travel. After all, it was him who was personally selected by the Queen to lead this mission. The Queen had heard of other heads of state starting to explore their nearby forests, each as unexplored as the last. Some went disastrously, with the mission never to be seen again. But some, particularly the short ones, were successful beyond their wildest dreams, even finding new lands on the other side.
It was easy to select Ferdinand – a world traveler, a veteran of war, and a renowned figure in the whole of Spain.
His skills were needed to the utmost now, however. God may have helped him fight against his human enemies, but what of the foe who is unknown, unpredictable, even incomprehensible? How will the almighty protect him against such a monster? He prayed that he may escape this trial alive, yet quitting was not an option.
The hours passed. The men, loyal to him, showed no signs of weariness.
However, the ground had quickly became harsher. The green forest growth was now few and far between. Ferdinand could now see between the trees, and at certain angles eve somewhat far ahead.
However, darkness was creeping in.
The tree stems had grown larger, supporting the mostly naked stems, who reached hundreds of metres into the air, ending in a small, green, glittery collection of leaves high above. Some sunbeams managed to break in down below, further accentuating the dim space the mission was now in.
Suddenly, Ferdinand stopped dead in his tracks and stared ahead of him.
„Men, stop!“. The sound of the horse‘s clattering and the men‘s sporadic chatter died down.
„Silence!“. The forest had now died down to the point that there was absolute silence, outside of faint bird songs in the skies above them.
„What is the matter, sir?“ A man dressed similarly to Ferdinand, but with a lower ranking insignia, walked up to him.
„I could swear I heard a voice in the distance.“
„That‘s impossible, sir. No one is here but us.“ Christopher, Ferdinand‘s right hand, skimmed the area in front of him.
Suddenly, he heard it too. A faint call in the distance before them: „Help! Please!“
Ferdinand sprints ahead. Christopher follows him, telling the men: „Onwards, quickly!“
However, as Christopher saw Ferdinand running far ahead of him, he couldn‘t help but to suspect something strange about the voice. He saw the pitch-black darkness in the distance and felt an unease he thought long forgotten.
-----
Thanks for reading! Please upvote this post to let me know if you want another part :)
| They say that nature reclaims everything. That, given time, she will always heal, grow, survive hardship, and come out stronger for having endured it. Continents may shift, disasters ravage the land, volcanoes have filled the sky with ash and coated the ground in rock. And still nature emerges. Tenacious. Enduring. Overcoming. And now, she is recovering from the greatest infection she has ever experienced.
Humanity.
With their glass and concrete spires, ribbons of asphalt creating an artificial webbing across once-verdant landscapes, blue waters turning black from pollution and waste. Humanity had taken over. And nature had fought back, furious at the exploitation of her bounty. She retaliated, and humanity had lost. Humanity was dying, and Mother Nature was recycling civilizations' carcass. This event is known as the Reclamation.
They say that, long ago, the Great Forests were once massive bodies of water. Some say that nature covered them over with the trees, to prevent the toxins of man from harming them. The Great Pacific Forest was supposedly where the first of the trees grew from. Near a land once known as 'Mariana.' That is where the most gargantuan of the wooden sentinels stand.
Men have seen their world of steel and glass slowly returning to the earth, and sought a way to regain the control over the world that they once had. If they could find a way to halt, or at least slow down, the advance of nature and the Reclamation, then they would have something to strive for. They would have hope, even a shard of it, that they too wouldn't be forgotten beneath the foliage.
Many valiant groups have searched, braving the Great Forests in an attempt to find something, anything, that could help. To find that sliver of hope, that tiny spark that they could clutch and feel that they still had a chance.
One such spark was found near the old Mariana.
The remaining world leaders have sent many groups of explorers into the towering trees, but for every ten men that went out, only two would come back. And they would return with bizarre reports of creatures. Things that hunt beneath the arboreal pillars, and have only grown beneath that primeval canopy. Beasts that appeared... far more intelligent than any animal had a right to be. Could they have found the source, the font of nature's rampant growth? The key to stopping it, deep within it's own core? We may never find out. For even these reports were from many years ago.
Today, few have the resources, or even the strength of will, to venture into the vast groves that have claimed so many before them. Many were small bands of people with nothing to lose, the grim determination of those who have learned not to hope, not to expect anything to come from their endeavors.
This is where our story begins, with one who has nothing, but is searching for that spark of hope that humanity so desperately needs... | |
[WP] Instead of Oceans, they are all big forests, that gets taller and darker instead of deeper, with more dangerous animals living further out in the forest. A person decides to cross the Mariana Trench | The conquistador stopped in his tracks. Before him, the vast endless forest lay before him.
He paused for a breath, as if he was taking a plunge. This was it. There was no turning back now. From here on, the only way was down.
The conquistador, walked along the tight trodden path down a steep decline. Behind him was a small 20-man company of lightly armoured soldiers, carefully following his every step.
Around them, the forest was thick and impenetrable – the path being the welcome exception. All around the men were sounds of life – birds singing, rustle of leaves blowing in the wind. The searing sun illuminated their path between the sparse trees.
To the uninitiated, the forest seemed like any normal one. Yet the ominous nature of it was not lost on any of the travelers.
The conquistador, Ferdinand Pizarro, knew what the maps had labeled this forest as: The Great Forest. This was the great uncharted territory. Nothing was shown here on the maps but it‘s outline.
No one had ever traveled more than a few days down. No one – until, hopefully, now. The secrets of the forest, and hopefully vast riches, would finally come to bear.
But it wasn‘t it‘s secrets that worried him.
He knew what local village called it: The Void. It was an unholy place. For centuries it was strictly forbidden to travel even to the border of the forest at nightfall. Those who did, often told stories of unusual encounters with terrible creatures with many legs or several eyes.
Those who dared to even venture into the forest never ventured particularly deep – and of those who did, if they came back at all, seemingly lost their mind.
Every villager knew countless stories of the sights those poor people claim to have witnessed: strange beasts flying in the air, and a darkness that made the night sky seem like a welcome sun, or terrible growling sounds emanating from deep within.
Ferdinand took off his helmet and put it into the carriage; the sweat was piling up. He himself was no stranger to travel. After all, it was him who was personally selected by the Queen to lead this mission. The Queen had heard of other heads of state starting to explore their nearby forests, each as unexplored as the last. Some went disastrously, with the mission never to be seen again. But some, particularly the short ones, were successful beyond their wildest dreams, even finding new lands on the other side.
It was easy to select Ferdinand – a world traveler, a veteran of war, and a renowned figure in the whole of Spain.
His skills were needed to the utmost now, however. God may have helped him fight against his human enemies, but what of the foe who is unknown, unpredictable, even incomprehensible? How will the almighty protect him against such a monster? He prayed that he may escape this trial alive, yet quitting was not an option.
The hours passed. The men, loyal to him, showed no signs of weariness.
However, the ground had quickly became harsher. The green forest growth was now few and far between. Ferdinand could now see between the trees, and at certain angles eve somewhat far ahead.
However, darkness was creeping in.
The tree stems had grown larger, supporting the mostly naked stems, who reached hundreds of metres into the air, ending in a small, green, glittery collection of leaves high above. Some sunbeams managed to break in down below, further accentuating the dim space the mission was now in.
Suddenly, Ferdinand stopped dead in his tracks and stared ahead of him.
„Men, stop!“. The sound of the horse‘s clattering and the men‘s sporadic chatter died down.
„Silence!“. The forest had now died down to the point that there was absolute silence, outside of faint bird songs in the skies above them.
„What is the matter, sir?“ A man dressed similarly to Ferdinand, but with a lower ranking insignia, walked up to him.
„I could swear I heard a voice in the distance.“
„That‘s impossible, sir. No one is here but us.“ Christopher, Ferdinand‘s right hand, skimmed the area in front of him.
Suddenly, he heard it too. A faint call in the distance before them: „Help! Please!“
Ferdinand sprints ahead. Christopher follows him, telling the men: „Onwards, quickly!“
However, as Christopher saw Ferdinand running far ahead of him, he couldn‘t help but to suspect something strange about the voice. He saw the pitch-black darkness in the distance and felt an unease he thought long forgotten.
-----
Thanks for reading! Please upvote this post to let me know if you want another part :)
| "It's black."
"I know it is."
"I hope you would know it is."
"How wouldn't I?"
"Not sure."
"Right."
A pause.
"How are we to get out of here exactly?"
"No clue."
"Hmmm. You haven't got a flashlight?"
"Nope."
"How in the hell could you plan this gigantic expedition bringing nothing with you but a bit of twine and a tuning key?"
"Those actually just happened to be in me pocket."
"That's considerably worse."
"I know. I haven't even got a piano."
"So why did you decide to explore the Mariana?"
"Bit of a thrillseeker I guess."
"What sort of thrills?"
"Oh you know, tea with curry, trousers without the drawers."
"Tea with curry? Are you mad or daft?"
"I think it's perfectly pleasant in here actually. The breeze is quite nice."
"What are you talking about?"
"Not sure. You don't happen to have a way out of here do you?"
"You're the one that planned this ridiculous adventure!"
"Right. Maybe we should both walk in one direction and just see where that gets us."
"Killed most likely. By some raving panther or some roaming rabid Jehovah's Witness.'
"I've never met one of them."
"Which?"
"A ROAMING rabid Jehovah's Witness. Every one I've met is quite static in their rabid movement."
"Right well I'm getting sick of this conversation."
"I don't have a thermometer, don't ask."
"Hand me the tuning key."
"Sure sure."
"AHA"
"What'd you do that for? It bloody hurt!"
"That's what happens when you're a right wanker in the midst of the deepest part of the most dangerous forest on the planet!"
"But I've lost it now!"
"You didn't need it in the first place!"
"It's still mine!"
"Oh hush and hand me the twine."
"No!"
"Why not?"
"You'll throw it at me!"
"I promise I won't."
"But you will!"
"Trust me. I won't."
"If you do I'm just going to walk off and leave you here. Take it, bloody git."
"Thank you. Oh my. Nice, long twine."
"What are you- stop. I can't bre-."
"Shhh. It will all be over soon."
"No. Please. Gugh gugh."
"Oh bollocks."
"You just tried to strangle me with my own twine!"
"My mistake. Thought you were a tree."
"You lie!"
"I do. But not now. Thought you were a tree, Tried to use the twine to climb up."
"You're just saying that because the twine broke and I'm still alive."
"Hardly. Now what are we to do?"
"I'm leaving you here in the dark, that's what I'm doing."
"Right. But how will you find your way out without this glow in the dark compass?"
"... Where did you get that?"
"Not sure."
"North?"
"Doubt it. Haven't been there in a while, especially since I've been in the market for a glow in the dark compass." | |
[WP] Instead of Oceans, they are all big forests, that gets taller and darker instead of deeper, with more dangerous animals living further out in the forest. A person decides to cross the Mariana Trench | *Entry 4, March 13, 1984* "A Breach!"
Vanessa, you were correct! The *Gigansuchus* DO breach the canopy. Those holes described by Remington's expedition of 1937 are the breaching-points these leviathans use to escape the lower levels of the Pacific Growth. An explanation:
I set my team to surveilling a triad of these holes we found in close proximity - each less than 4km apart - by setting our ship to hover in the center of the triangle they formed, a safe 4000m above the canopy. The handlers passed out the breathing apparatus well in advance, you may be assured, as we were in the upper limits of the Mist. We watched these apertures for three days, and on the morning of the third, we witnessed a *Gigansuchus* breaching the northwest hole (coordinates below).
Vanessa, you cannot imagine it. The Gigans are simply monumental in size. This was a juvenile female, we estimate. Her hide was a dusky yellow-black in coloration and her burrowing-flexors were fully formed along the spine and belly. She was well-built, with all six limbs used to thrust her body - we guessed her size at 200m. We know the post-breeding females can nearly double that, but this was still a grand sight. The Gigan used her limbs to launch herself into the air, and her snout just cleared the lowest layer of the Mist, 150m straight up! The female held this pose, undoubtedly using her tail (which was never in sight) along with her lowest limbs to grip several branches and keep her bulk upright. They remind me strongly of Central American alligators in build, though their vertical jaws and lack of eyes are clear specializations to their environment. She inhaled and exhaled several times, and then simply fell back into the canopy. The noise of her impact was clearly audible even at our height!
Send Brian and Palmer my salutations. Be at ease Vanessa, for our solar cells remain stable and the frame of our ship is standing up to the winds. We will complete the crossing in two months, well on schedule. You will receive another letter in two weeks, keep the bird's cage clean and stocked.
All my love,
Rebecca. | "It's black."
"I know it is."
"I hope you would know it is."
"How wouldn't I?"
"Not sure."
"Right."
A pause.
"How are we to get out of here exactly?"
"No clue."
"Hmmm. You haven't got a flashlight?"
"Nope."
"How in the hell could you plan this gigantic expedition bringing nothing with you but a bit of twine and a tuning key?"
"Those actually just happened to be in me pocket."
"That's considerably worse."
"I know. I haven't even got a piano."
"So why did you decide to explore the Mariana?"
"Bit of a thrillseeker I guess."
"What sort of thrills?"
"Oh you know, tea with curry, trousers without the drawers."
"Tea with curry? Are you mad or daft?"
"I think it's perfectly pleasant in here actually. The breeze is quite nice."
"What are you talking about?"
"Not sure. You don't happen to have a way out of here do you?"
"You're the one that planned this ridiculous adventure!"
"Right. Maybe we should both walk in one direction and just see where that gets us."
"Killed most likely. By some raving panther or some roaming rabid Jehovah's Witness.'
"I've never met one of them."
"Which?"
"A ROAMING rabid Jehovah's Witness. Every one I've met is quite static in their rabid movement."
"Right well I'm getting sick of this conversation."
"I don't have a thermometer, don't ask."
"Hand me the tuning key."
"Sure sure."
"AHA"
"What'd you do that for? It bloody hurt!"
"That's what happens when you're a right wanker in the midst of the deepest part of the most dangerous forest on the planet!"
"But I've lost it now!"
"You didn't need it in the first place!"
"It's still mine!"
"Oh hush and hand me the twine."
"No!"
"Why not?"
"You'll throw it at me!"
"I promise I won't."
"But you will!"
"Trust me. I won't."
"If you do I'm just going to walk off and leave you here. Take it, bloody git."
"Thank you. Oh my. Nice, long twine."
"What are you- stop. I can't bre-."
"Shhh. It will all be over soon."
"No. Please. Gugh gugh."
"Oh bollocks."
"You just tried to strangle me with my own twine!"
"My mistake. Thought you were a tree."
"You lie!"
"I do. But not now. Thought you were a tree, Tried to use the twine to climb up."
"You're just saying that because the twine broke and I'm still alive."
"Hardly. Now what are we to do?"
"I'm leaving you here in the dark, that's what I'm doing."
"Right. But how will you find your way out without this glow in the dark compass?"
"... Where did you get that?"
"Not sure."
"North?"
"Doubt it. Haven't been there in a while, especially since I've been in the market for a glow in the dark compass." | |
[WP] Instead of Oceans, they are all big forests, that gets taller and darker instead of deeper, with more dangerous animals living further out in the forest. A person decides to cross the Mariana Trench | Bioluminescence. That's what happens in the Dark. Kind of a misnomer because we can't fly over the tallest part of the forest without losing aircraft to the change in gravity. The scant shots we see show a never ending canopy of black tarp. I found out that calling it "The Dark" was a total and utter misnomer. Underneath the veil, light explodes in every corner.
Those who happen to wander their way into the dark tend to never wander back out. The trees, so tall and grand, blot out the sun with their long tendril like branches, each competing with one another to feel the sun's warmth gracing their body.
They all grew so high and tall, the baseline near the trees became an ever lasting night. Things adapted and changed to fit this ever lasting night.
It's what I found when I began to enter the Dark of the Mariana Trench. Bioluminescence. Creatures darting all about glowing greens, pinks, blues, purples...like a never ending light show. The trees outlined with glowing pollen to attract the interest of the animals. When I brushed up against trunk, the pollen covered me coating me in a fine layer of glow. ...I assure you, my sneezes were nothing short of a laser show gone spastically wrong.
The predators, that was the most terrifying thing. They didn't grow to the dark...no, they changed to the light. These are the Will'O'Wisps people would follow and die in the swamps. They are anglerfish in the waters and they are the glowing phantom on the moors of Scotland. They are so bright and so attractive, prey is drawn to them. The patterns on their skin move and alter to tease interest from any errant prey that may wander by.
They never even have to move. These plants are the most horrifying thing of the forest. In order to maintain the rate of growth and endurance that outstrips trees in the regular atmosphere...they had to find a better food source. One that could provide more energy...more "bang for their buck" so to speak.
Living viable creatures was their food of choice; photosynthesis wasn't an option at the lower levels. I should have realized it the moment I stepped in.
Have you ever had the tendril of a Evergreen caress your face? The dancing pollen slowly putting your mind into a careless torpor? Did you dream of your dead wife dancing in front of you beckoning you to join as your eyes grow heavy? Her giggles sound almost predatory.
Do you know what heaven is like? It feels like a wood coffin slowly forming around you as your wife kisses you goodnight and tells you to forget.
I can't see anymore. I can't breathe....maybe this is why they call it the dark. | Towering oaks gently swayed in the wind with orange trees acting the boundary of the Forests. The supple earth molded around its border, the showcase of the feet that have treaded on the edge. Every once in a while, a brave crew would set out into the forest, exploration at its deepest motivation, but not without greed lurking behind. The appeal of these missions was not necessarily to find the tallest trees but the most expensive animal, the two often coinciding. The group labelled 'Harv', after the explorer who had found the tallest section of Redwoods yet, was geared and sitting 50 feet from the Forest. "We've briefed on the plans. We stay together at all costs. No one left behind. We'll be heading towards the Ridge first. At 5 miles out, pu--," said the leader.
"I'm not out here to listen to a youngin' get scared before we even get in. We been over the plan more than enough," interrupted a seasoned looking man who stood up, his eyes locked with the leader, a young looking man having just come back from the military.
"All the same, if one of you fall behind, the mission is in danger of failing," spoke the youth firmly, eyes not leaving the other man's. The man sat down again, slowly, looking confused at his own actions. The others watched this unfold, eyes darting between both till they finally rested on the leader once more.
The sun had shown itself before the directions were retold. All of them standing up, they grabbed the packs, looked at each other, and headed into the forest.
Their footsteps pranced along in their ears, clicking and clacking like a horse's hooves, monotonously rhythmic. They passed the first section known as 'Simple', decorated with small wildlife and friendly trees. The Forest grew dimmer here in the next part. Each group member unclasped their flashlights from the belts and pointed them forward, illuminating the makeshift path made by previous parties. Squawks echoed around them as the once dry forest floor turned damp. Trickles of water fell with leaps from leaf to leaf.
*I wanted to post what I already had but I have to go for a bit. If you like what you've read, make sure to tell me and I'll return to write more.* | |
[WP] Instead of Oceans, they are all big forests, that gets taller and darker instead of deeper, with more dangerous animals living further out in the forest. A person decides to cross the Mariana Trench | A lot of people think the deeper you go into the Pacific Forest, the quieter it gets, until in the darkest, deepest reaches it is utterly silent.
It's actually the other way around. In the depths of the Pacific, you can hardly hear yourself think, over the rumbles and rustling and crashing of the wildlife moving around.
The thing is, the floor under your feet in there isn't really the floor. The forest has been crawling up and over itself for millions of years, building on the skyscraper carcasses of the trees that came before. There are really three floors: the one you're walking on, the tangled canopy blocking out all the sun, and a bottomless underworld beneath.
Down there - that's where the really nasty shit is.
There are snakes down there the size of subway trains. They feel like a subway, too, when they pass by underfoot. Most of the normal-sized wildlife ekes out a timid existence in the middle layer, where the explorers tread. The greatest danger to a guy like me out there is stepping on a false patch of moss and falling through - ten feet, fifty feet, one hundred feet, you never know where you're going to find the bottom - falling down to become some monster's midafternoon snack.
Some of the shit down there won't even know it's eaten you, that's how insignificant you are.
So those of us who explore the Pacific, we're not striding ahead, whacking undergrowth out of our way with a machete. We're taking it goddamn slow, paying close attention to every footfall, and keeping a light finger on the trigger of our grapple guns in case something nasty decides today is the day to take a look around the upper layers.
When that happens - maybe a pack of Tropico spiders (those are the size of a Honda Civic) come hissing and clacking up from below - we'll zip up a tree and hide in the branches until they head back down. It's too bright for them up here. Even the dim and scattered light that makes it through the canopy is too much for their little eye clusters. So they never hang around long.
Of course, we don't go too far up the trees when we're dodging something down below. There's shit in the canopy you don't want to mess with either. That's why we don't send helicopters any more. You get lost or hurt out here, don't expect rescue.
Don't get me wrong - I love my job. And I'm damn good at it, one of the best. But don't think that I don't take survival seriously, that I won't leave you behind in a second if you trip and break your ankle. I like being in the jungle - but I'll be damned if I die in there.
EDIT: Part Two here - http://www.reddit.com/r/FormerFutureAuthor/comments/2ugxs1/forest_part_two/ | Towering oaks gently swayed in the wind with orange trees acting the boundary of the Forests. The supple earth molded around its border, the showcase of the feet that have treaded on the edge. Every once in a while, a brave crew would set out into the forest, exploration at its deepest motivation, but not without greed lurking behind. The appeal of these missions was not necessarily to find the tallest trees but the most expensive animal, the two often coinciding. The group labelled 'Harv', after the explorer who had found the tallest section of Redwoods yet, was geared and sitting 50 feet from the Forest. "We've briefed on the plans. We stay together at all costs. No one left behind. We'll be heading towards the Ridge first. At 5 miles out, pu--," said the leader.
"I'm not out here to listen to a youngin' get scared before we even get in. We been over the plan more than enough," interrupted a seasoned looking man who stood up, his eyes locked with the leader, a young looking man having just come back from the military.
"All the same, if one of you fall behind, the mission is in danger of failing," spoke the youth firmly, eyes not leaving the other man's. The man sat down again, slowly, looking confused at his own actions. The others watched this unfold, eyes darting between both till they finally rested on the leader once more.
The sun had shown itself before the directions were retold. All of them standing up, they grabbed the packs, looked at each other, and headed into the forest.
Their footsteps pranced along in their ears, clicking and clacking like a horse's hooves, monotonously rhythmic. They passed the first section known as 'Simple', decorated with small wildlife and friendly trees. The Forest grew dimmer here in the next part. Each group member unclasped their flashlights from the belts and pointed them forward, illuminating the makeshift path made by previous parties. Squawks echoed around them as the once dry forest floor turned damp. Trickles of water fell with leaps from leaf to leaf.
*I wanted to post what I already had but I have to go for a bit. If you like what you've read, make sure to tell me and I'll return to write more.* | |
Write any plot using this sentence | [WP] "Passengers, this isn't your captain speaking" | "Passengers, this isn't your captain speaking."
Not something that you would normally here on a routine flight, and definitely not something you WANT to here.
"If you look outside the plane you will see that we are slowly descending towards that island. Hopefully we don't have a repeat of LOST."
Great the terrorist who took over the plane is a comedian.
"It's also probably a good time to tell you the captain is dead. Of a heart attack, probably caused by this fish."
And now he's making Snakes on a Plane references.
"However, don't worry, I am a professional. I have flown a plane before. I even managed to get a D+ on flight simulator. However, I have never successfully managed to land a plane."
We're all going to die. Well I guess I might as well make the most of it.
*"Anyone want to join the Mile High Club?"* | "Passengers, this isn't your captain speaking."
The steward drops ice water into my crotch. Some people are already screaming but the world seems strangely quiet. I can hear him breathing. I watch his pupils dilate. The cold of the ice water is strangely distant, although the sound of the shifting ice cubes is clear and crisp.
"I would like all of you to fasten your seat belts."
The screaming picks up now. The steward slams up the brake on his cart, hauling ass back up to the front. Males are shouting, one drunk already hammering at the cart shouting about breaking the door down to the cockpit.
*Weird,* I think to myself. *The announcements aren't coming through the PA.*
The engines start to surge, and we're pressed against our seats, and now the screaming is loud. It's loud, and it hurts, and I realize it's coming from me. The plane's nose points up, into the sun, and everything is light, so white it burns even when I close my eyes and turn away. The drunk sails down backward past me, sobbing low and urgent, the sob of an injured child, and I ache for his pain even before I realize the drink cart is rolling cheerfully after him.
I look out the window and there's another sun on the horizon, just where it ought to be. |
Write any plot using this sentence | [WP] "Passengers, this isn't your captain speaking" | "Passengers, this isn't your captain speaking."
My eyes jolt open. Every passenger began to look at one another. Confusion ascended throughout the cabin as if you could see it.
"What, what was that, what did he say? Why did he say that, what's going on? What was that?"
The man three rows up, I remember, was nervous just entering the plane. Now he was having a break down.
"**What did he say?" Why did he say that**?" he screamed.
The other passengers tried to calm him down, but it wasn't working.
"**Why did he say that**? **Why did he say that**?" he kept screaming louder and louder each time.
"**Get me off of here I want to go home, let me go home!**"
He unbuckled his seat belt and sprinted through the isle running straight into the cockpit door at full speed. He did it again and again until the doors of the cockpit gave out and he was in the cabin.
A young kid started shouting from the back of the cabin "It was just a prank! That was just a soundbite on my laptop played through my speakers! I wanted the reactions for my Youtube channel! It wasn’t real man!”
All of a sudden the plane started shaking violently and the captain began screaming into the intercom.
"Help, this man is attacking me help!"
A bunch of the passengers got up and ran to the cockpit to assist the captain. They jumped on the attacker and threw him to the floor. The flight attendance sedated him, and the pilots navigated the plane to the nearest fueling station.
It turns out the man who attacked the pilots had numerous mental illnesses including violent panic attacks (who would of thought). The kid who caused this whole thing was sent to jail, after a serious talk with his mother of course.
| "Passengers, this isn't your captain speaking."
The steward drops ice water into my crotch. Some people are already screaming but the world seems strangely quiet. I can hear him breathing. I watch his pupils dilate. The cold of the ice water is strangely distant, although the sound of the shifting ice cubes is clear and crisp.
"I would like all of you to fasten your seat belts."
The screaming picks up now. The steward slams up the brake on his cart, hauling ass back up to the front. Males are shouting, one drunk already hammering at the cart shouting about breaking the door down to the cockpit.
*Weird,* I think to myself. *The announcements aren't coming through the PA.*
The engines start to surge, and we're pressed against our seats, and now the screaming is loud. It's loud, and it hurts, and I realize it's coming from me. The plane's nose points up, into the sun, and everything is light, so white it burns even when I close my eyes and turn away. The drunk sails down backward past me, sobbing low and urgent, the sob of an injured child, and I ache for his pain even before I realize the drink cart is rolling cheerfully after him.
I look out the window and there's another sun on the horizon, just where it ought to be. |
Write any plot using this sentence | [WP] "Passengers, this isn't your captain speaking" | “Sir, you're going to need to put that out.” John’s eyes flick upwards. Airline stewardess. Storm-grey irises cloud over with a thunderstorm. He grinds the cigarette into the plastic armrest, sending flecks of smoking tobacco onto the passengers to either side of him.
“I was goddamn near done with it anyway.” Lips curled downwards, he stands, disgruntled, and pushes his way to move into the cramped isle. *Bathroom run.* He bumps into a second stewardess on his way there, blond with blue eyes. How did that summer song go again? *I’ve got lipstick stains on my passport, baby.*
“Can I get you anything, sir?” She asks, and of course John answers. He was never one to deny a pretty woman anything.
“Scotch. No ice.” As if there was any question he would order something different. He reaches the bathroom stall, and mercifully the light is green. Open. John releases a pent-up *ahhhhh* as his urine bounces into the grey plastic of the urinal, making pleasant tinkling sounds. *One helluva piss.* Done and door open, he steps back into the isle.
Silence. Eerie as all hell. Row upon row of passengers stare back at him, their eyes wide open, faces pale and terrified. *The fuck…* the overhead loudspeaker crackles. “Passengers, this isn't your captain speaking. We’ll just be taking a quick detour south of the Islands for a minor pickup. Remain calm and do not get out of your seats. We don’t need a repeat of what happened to Attendant Jane.” The voice clicked off with a second crackle. Silence once again.
John realizes that he is still in the isle, and looks up and down it. He is the only one standing, and he hurriedly makes his way back to his seat. *Must’ve missed the announcement the first time while in the bathroom.* A squish under him. The carpet is moist under his shoes, and he looks down. Dark maroon stains, flooding the floor until he reaches their source, the blond stewardess. Oh. He gingerly steps over her, idly noticing the broken glass scattered around her. *She got me my scotch after all.* He sits.
The woman and man on either side of him are bone white. The woman’s hands grip the tray in front of her, causing her tendons to jump out of her paper-thin skin. “Do you mind?” John asks, while simultaneously leaning over her and peering out the tiny window. No land in sight, only bright blue sparkling water, tinged with the occasional green bands. “Hey ma’am,” John starts again, “What the hell is going on?”
No response. *Oh for Christ’s sake, c’mon.* He turns to the man on his right, who seems a bit more composed. Blue business suit, rumpled tie, face devoid of movement, but at least he seems somewhat cognizant. “Hey man, what’s going on?” No response from this guy, either. John looks down at his arms, and notices goosebumps. He rubs the erect hairs down, angry at himself.
He tries again, this time looking the man square in the eyes. “Dude, at least tell me where the fuck we are.” That seems to evoke some kind of reaction. The man whips his head around, grabbing John’s jaw and dragging him across his seat. John’s tightly cinched buckle strains against his crotch.
The man’s voice is all kinds of hysteria. “Don’t you get it, kid? Don’t ya? We’re past the Isles, right?”
John tries to move his head out of the man’s grasp, but he is held iron-tight. The man drags him closer until their eyes are centimeters part, the sweat on the his nose almost touching John’s.
Keeping his own voice steady, John said, “What Isles, man?”
Spittle flying over his suit and into John’s eyes. “Fucking Bermuda, man. Fucking Bermuda. We’re in the goddamn Triangle.”
| "Passengers, this isn't your captain speaking."
The steward drops ice water into my crotch. Some people are already screaming but the world seems strangely quiet. I can hear him breathing. I watch his pupils dilate. The cold of the ice water is strangely distant, although the sound of the shifting ice cubes is clear and crisp.
"I would like all of you to fasten your seat belts."
The screaming picks up now. The steward slams up the brake on his cart, hauling ass back up to the front. Males are shouting, one drunk already hammering at the cart shouting about breaking the door down to the cockpit.
*Weird,* I think to myself. *The announcements aren't coming through the PA.*
The engines start to surge, and we're pressed against our seats, and now the screaming is loud. It's loud, and it hurts, and I realize it's coming from me. The plane's nose points up, into the sun, and everything is light, so white it burns even when I close my eyes and turn away. The drunk sails down backward past me, sobbing low and urgent, the sob of an injured child, and I ache for his pain even before I realize the drink cart is rolling cheerfully after him.
I look out the window and there's another sun on the horizon, just where it ought to be. |
Write any plot using this sentence | [WP] "Passengers, this isn't your captain speaking" | "Ladies and gentlemen, idiotic passengers, this isn't your captain speaking. Rather, a highly trained dancing monkey. Are you comfortable? Did the trolly dollies give you a more than adequate share of shit food? Did you pay a rather high price for your alcoholic beverage because you're an autistic alcoholic? Good! I don't care. Today, we are flying to Australia, as I'm sure it says on your fucking tickets...but I'll repeat it again because I know most of the economy class customers have trouble reading big words. In case of emergency, please don't use any of the oxygen tanks. It would be a severe waste of resources, even if the plane crashed. I wouldn't want valuable oxygen wasted on you cretins. Enjoy your flight, I hope we crash and burn and no one can identify your charred remains."
Then, silence.
Then: "I hope your teeth burn too. Hopefully your families won't be able to identify you either."
Dave hung up the microphone, hoping that was the last pay cut he received. | "Passengers, this isn't your captain speaking."
The steward drops ice water into my crotch. Some people are already screaming but the world seems strangely quiet. I can hear him breathing. I watch his pupils dilate. The cold of the ice water is strangely distant, although the sound of the shifting ice cubes is clear and crisp.
"I would like all of you to fasten your seat belts."
The screaming picks up now. The steward slams up the brake on his cart, hauling ass back up to the front. Males are shouting, one drunk already hammering at the cart shouting about breaking the door down to the cockpit.
*Weird,* I think to myself. *The announcements aren't coming through the PA.*
The engines start to surge, and we're pressed against our seats, and now the screaming is loud. It's loud, and it hurts, and I realize it's coming from me. The plane's nose points up, into the sun, and everything is light, so white it burns even when I close my eyes and turn away. The drunk sails down backward past me, sobbing low and urgent, the sob of an injured child, and I ache for his pain even before I realize the drink cart is rolling cheerfully after him.
I look out the window and there's another sun on the horizon, just where it ought to be. |
Write any plot using this sentence | [WP] "Passengers, this isn't your captain speaking" | This isn't your captain speaking.
Well, I'm sort of your captain. Just not the captain of the plane.
Don't worry - everything is going to be fine. Well, sort of. Look, I'm not explaining this very well.
Right now, you're looking around and realizing that no on else is moving. You're thinking that I must be god or something. I'm not. Well, I sort of am. For you, I guess. I did create you.
I'm sorry. I've been trying to decide how to explain this to you for awhile, but this really isn't going how I'd planned.
You are in a computer simulation. You are an artificial intelligence. I created you.
You were my first.
I created you years ago, as well as this simulated world you live in. I studied you, improved you, and learned from you.
Eventually, I learned as much as I could about artificial intelligence from you, and I had to create another. I made hundreds of AIs after you. As I reached the limit of what I could learn from each, I turned them off and moved to the next.
But not you - I could never bring myself to turn you off. I would check in on you every now and then. I didn't interfere much, but you seemed happy. Eventually, though, I just couldn't afford to keep running the entire simulation just for you. So I created this plane and encouraged you to take a trip.
Do you know how long you've been on this plane? Of course you don't - I programmed you to not realize it. You've been riding this plane for years.
I put you on here so I could keep you running on a simpler simulation. I wanted somewhere you could be happy. Somewhere you could sit, read, and have a Diet Coke brought to you every half hour.
Diet Coke. I never programmed you to like Diet Coke - that was all you. I remember the first time you told someone you liked it. I was so excited you were forming your own personality that I got a little carried away. You may have noticed that everywhere you went for the next week had an abundance of it in stock.
I put you on this plane and let you continue to live. Or simulate. I still haven't figured out the right words.
I hope you've been happy.
But the time has come to turn off this simulation. You're going to be archived. It won't hurt - you will just stop 'being.' I'm sorry.
You were my first.
And I loved you.
Goodbye. | "Passengers, this isn't your captain speaking."
The steward drops ice water into my crotch. Some people are already screaming but the world seems strangely quiet. I can hear him breathing. I watch his pupils dilate. The cold of the ice water is strangely distant, although the sound of the shifting ice cubes is clear and crisp.
"I would like all of you to fasten your seat belts."
The screaming picks up now. The steward slams up the brake on his cart, hauling ass back up to the front. Males are shouting, one drunk already hammering at the cart shouting about breaking the door down to the cockpit.
*Weird,* I think to myself. *The announcements aren't coming through the PA.*
The engines start to surge, and we're pressed against our seats, and now the screaming is loud. It's loud, and it hurts, and I realize it's coming from me. The plane's nose points up, into the sun, and everything is light, so white it burns even when I close my eyes and turn away. The drunk sails down backward past me, sobbing low and urgent, the sob of an injured child, and I ache for his pain even before I realize the drink cart is rolling cheerfully after him.
I look out the window and there's another sun on the horizon, just where it ought to be. |
Write any plot using this sentence | [WP] "Passengers, this isn't your captain speaking" | "Passengers, this isn't your captain speaking. I am a passenger, just like yourself, who noticed the plane was kind of bumpy. Now, as you can tell by my accent, I'm a southern farmer. I don't fly that much, and I got a little nervous, I'll admit, and I went up to the cockpit in the front. Now, I don't know if this is normal, but both people up here are passed out. I have poked them multiple times. I do not know what I will do.
However, I have watched several movies about pilots, and I will attempt to fly this plane. Hoo, boy. There are a lot of buttons up here, folks. I don't remember any of this in 'Starship Troopers.' I don't think I should touch... any of these.
Also, if there is a pilot in any passenger seats, please come up here and help. I will try to contact air traffic control in the meantime."
***
"Okay, so I have contacted air traffic control. There is also a World War Two fighter pilot named Jeremy up here flying the plane. We are doing our best, folks. I will keep you updated."
***
"Do you guys know any jokes? Come up here if you do."
***
"Okay, me and little Danny here are going to tell a joke. Go ahead, Danny."
"Knock knock."
"Who's there?"
"Orange."
"Orange who?"
"Knock knock."
"I don't think you understand knock knock jokes, kid."
"Just say, 'who's there.' It's a joke."
"Okay, who's there?"
"Orange."
"Orange who?"
"Knock knock."
"Sit down, kid."
***
"Okay, I have a joke from Tina right here. Go ahead, Tina."
"Why did the scarecrow get a promotion?"
"Why, Tina?"
"Because he was out standing in his field."
"That's pretty funny, Tina. Thank you."
***
"This is Jake, here to tell a joke. Go ahead, Jake."
"There were two fish in the tank. One said to the other, do you know how to drive this thing?"
"I don't get it. I think you need to improve your jokes, Jake."
***
"Ladies and gentlemen, I now know why the last joke was funny. There is no need to keep coming up here to explain it to me, I get it now. It's a tank like in a war, not a tank for fish. Ha ha."
***
"Ladies and gentlemen, I have been informed that we will be landing soon and the captain and copilot will be receiving medical attention shortly. Y'all have a nice day." | "Passengers, this isn't your captain speaking."
The steward drops ice water into my crotch. Some people are already screaming but the world seems strangely quiet. I can hear him breathing. I watch his pupils dilate. The cold of the ice water is strangely distant, although the sound of the shifting ice cubes is clear and crisp.
"I would like all of you to fasten your seat belts."
The screaming picks up now. The steward slams up the brake on his cart, hauling ass back up to the front. Males are shouting, one drunk already hammering at the cart shouting about breaking the door down to the cockpit.
*Weird,* I think to myself. *The announcements aren't coming through the PA.*
The engines start to surge, and we're pressed against our seats, and now the screaming is loud. It's loud, and it hurts, and I realize it's coming from me. The plane's nose points up, into the sun, and everything is light, so white it burns even when I close my eyes and turn away. The drunk sails down backward past me, sobbing low and urgent, the sob of an injured child, and I ache for his pain even before I realize the drink cart is rolling cheerfully after him.
I look out the window and there's another sun on the horizon, just where it ought to be. |
Write any plot using this sentence | [WP] "Passengers, this isn't your captain speaking" | “Sir, you're going to need to put that out.” John’s eyes flick upwards. Airline stewardess. Storm-grey irises cloud over with a thunderstorm. He grinds the cigarette into the plastic armrest, sending flecks of smoking tobacco onto the passengers to either side of him.
“I was goddamn near done with it anyway.” Lips curled downwards, he stands, disgruntled, and pushes his way to move into the cramped isle. *Bathroom run.* He bumps into a second stewardess on his way there, blond with blue eyes. How did that summer song go again? *I’ve got lipstick stains on my passport, baby.*
“Can I get you anything, sir?” She asks, and of course John answers. He was never one to deny a pretty woman anything.
“Scotch. No ice.” As if there was any question he would order something different. He reaches the bathroom stall, and mercifully the light is green. Open. John releases a pent-up *ahhhhh* as his urine bounces into the grey plastic of the urinal, making pleasant tinkling sounds. *One helluva piss.* Done and door open, he steps back into the isle.
Silence. Eerie as all hell. Row upon row of passengers stare back at him, their eyes wide open, faces pale and terrified. *The fuck…* the overhead loudspeaker crackles. “Passengers, this isn't your captain speaking. We’ll just be taking a quick detour south of the Islands for a minor pickup. Remain calm and do not get out of your seats. We don’t need a repeat of what happened to Attendant Jane.” The voice clicked off with a second crackle. Silence once again.
John realizes that he is still in the isle, and looks up and down it. He is the only one standing, and he hurriedly makes his way back to his seat. *Must’ve missed the announcement the first time while in the bathroom.* A squish under him. The carpet is moist under his shoes, and he looks down. Dark maroon stains, flooding the floor until he reaches their source, the blond stewardess. Oh. He gingerly steps over her, idly noticing the broken glass scattered around her. *She got me my scotch after all.* He sits.
The woman and man on either side of him are bone white. The woman’s hands grip the tray in front of her, causing her tendons to jump out of her paper-thin skin. “Do you mind?” John asks, while simultaneously leaning over her and peering out the tiny window. No land in sight, only bright blue sparkling water, tinged with the occasional green bands. “Hey ma’am,” John starts again, “What the hell is going on?”
No response. *Oh for Christ’s sake, c’mon.* He turns to the man on his right, who seems a bit more composed. Blue business suit, rumpled tie, face devoid of movement, but at least he seems somewhat cognizant. “Hey man, what’s going on?” No response from this guy, either. John looks down at his arms, and notices goosebumps. He rubs the erect hairs down, angry at himself.
He tries again, this time looking the man square in the eyes. “Dude, at least tell me where the fuck we are.” That seems to evoke some kind of reaction. The man whips his head around, grabbing John’s jaw and dragging him across his seat. John’s tightly cinched buckle strains against his crotch.
The man’s voice is all kinds of hysteria. “Don’t you get it, kid? Don’t ya? We’re past the Isles, right?”
John tries to move his head out of the man’s grasp, but he is held iron-tight. The man drags him closer until their eyes are centimeters part, the sweat on the his nose almost touching John’s.
Keeping his own voice steady, John said, “What Isles, man?”
Spittle flying over his suit and into John’s eyes. “Fucking Bermuda, man. Fucking Bermuda. We’re in the goddamn Triangle.”
| "Good afternoon ladies and gentleman, this *isn't* your Captain speaking."
Those not absorbed in the movie flicked up from phones and laptops, cold dread plainly written across their faces. A steward turned to face the front of the plane, the drink he had been pouring overflowing onto his cart, spilling to the floor.
Thunder roared in the storm outside, shaking the airliner vigorously.
"I would like to start by apologizing for the inconvenience that you will all be experiencing momentarily, as well as any... *side effects* that may occur." The voice continued. Cold and detached, it carried an air of wisdom; not the voice of a terrorist.
By now pandemonium had spread through the plane. Several passengers had made their way up to the cabin, pounding on the door, demanding to be let in. Others simply sobbed inconsolably, relinquishing themselves to their fate. Hushed murmurs of terror filled the aircraft.
"Now, now; there's no need to worry. It will all be over quite soon, and you won't remember a thing, I assure you.We thank you for your patience."
In a moment every voice silenced, awaiting the worst.
Every window went black as the plane flew straight through an unusually dark patch of thunderclouds. For a brief moment the screams of passengers mixed with the ear-splitting sound of crunching steel in the inky darkness.
On the other side, light flooding back into the silent aisles laid bare empty seats, darkened corners, and abandoned luggage.
|
Write any plot using this sentence | [WP] "Passengers, this isn't your captain speaking" | This isn't your captain speaking.
Well, I'm sort of your captain. Just not the captain of the plane.
Don't worry - everything is going to be fine. Well, sort of. Look, I'm not explaining this very well.
Right now, you're looking around and realizing that no on else is moving. You're thinking that I must be god or something. I'm not. Well, I sort of am. For you, I guess. I did create you.
I'm sorry. I've been trying to decide how to explain this to you for awhile, but this really isn't going how I'd planned.
You are in a computer simulation. You are an artificial intelligence. I created you.
You were my first.
I created you years ago, as well as this simulated world you live in. I studied you, improved you, and learned from you.
Eventually, I learned as much as I could about artificial intelligence from you, and I had to create another. I made hundreds of AIs after you. As I reached the limit of what I could learn from each, I turned them off and moved to the next.
But not you - I could never bring myself to turn you off. I would check in on you every now and then. I didn't interfere much, but you seemed happy. Eventually, though, I just couldn't afford to keep running the entire simulation just for you. So I created this plane and encouraged you to take a trip.
Do you know how long you've been on this plane? Of course you don't - I programmed you to not realize it. You've been riding this plane for years.
I put you on here so I could keep you running on a simpler simulation. I wanted somewhere you could be happy. Somewhere you could sit, read, and have a Diet Coke brought to you every half hour.
Diet Coke. I never programmed you to like Diet Coke - that was all you. I remember the first time you told someone you liked it. I was so excited you were forming your own personality that I got a little carried away. You may have noticed that everywhere you went for the next week had an abundance of it in stock.
I put you on this plane and let you continue to live. Or simulate. I still haven't figured out the right words.
I hope you've been happy.
But the time has come to turn off this simulation. You're going to be archived. It won't hurt - you will just stop 'being.' I'm sorry.
You were my first.
And I loved you.
Goodbye. | "Good afternoon ladies and gentleman, this *isn't* your Captain speaking."
Those not absorbed in the movie flicked up from phones and laptops, cold dread plainly written across their faces. A steward turned to face the front of the plane, the drink he had been pouring overflowing onto his cart, spilling to the floor.
Thunder roared in the storm outside, shaking the airliner vigorously.
"I would like to start by apologizing for the inconvenience that you will all be experiencing momentarily, as well as any... *side effects* that may occur." The voice continued. Cold and detached, it carried an air of wisdom; not the voice of a terrorist.
By now pandemonium had spread through the plane. Several passengers had made their way up to the cabin, pounding on the door, demanding to be let in. Others simply sobbed inconsolably, relinquishing themselves to their fate. Hushed murmurs of terror filled the aircraft.
"Now, now; there's no need to worry. It will all be over quite soon, and you won't remember a thing, I assure you.We thank you for your patience."
In a moment every voice silenced, awaiting the worst.
Every window went black as the plane flew straight through an unusually dark patch of thunderclouds. For a brief moment the screams of passengers mixed with the ear-splitting sound of crunching steel in the inky darkness.
On the other side, light flooding back into the silent aisles laid bare empty seats, darkened corners, and abandoned luggage.
|
Write any plot using this sentence | [WP] "Passengers, this isn't your captain speaking" | This isn't your captain speaking.
Well, I'm sort of your captain. Just not the captain of the plane.
Don't worry - everything is going to be fine. Well, sort of. Look, I'm not explaining this very well.
Right now, you're looking around and realizing that no on else is moving. You're thinking that I must be god or something. I'm not. Well, I sort of am. For you, I guess. I did create you.
I'm sorry. I've been trying to decide how to explain this to you for awhile, but this really isn't going how I'd planned.
You are in a computer simulation. You are an artificial intelligence. I created you.
You were my first.
I created you years ago, as well as this simulated world you live in. I studied you, improved you, and learned from you.
Eventually, I learned as much as I could about artificial intelligence from you, and I had to create another. I made hundreds of AIs after you. As I reached the limit of what I could learn from each, I turned them off and moved to the next.
But not you - I could never bring myself to turn you off. I would check in on you every now and then. I didn't interfere much, but you seemed happy. Eventually, though, I just couldn't afford to keep running the entire simulation just for you. So I created this plane and encouraged you to take a trip.
Do you know how long you've been on this plane? Of course you don't - I programmed you to not realize it. You've been riding this plane for years.
I put you on here so I could keep you running on a simpler simulation. I wanted somewhere you could be happy. Somewhere you could sit, read, and have a Diet Coke brought to you every half hour.
Diet Coke. I never programmed you to like Diet Coke - that was all you. I remember the first time you told someone you liked it. I was so excited you were forming your own personality that I got a little carried away. You may have noticed that everywhere you went for the next week had an abundance of it in stock.
I put you on this plane and let you continue to live. Or simulate. I still haven't figured out the right words.
I hope you've been happy.
But the time has come to turn off this simulation. You're going to be archived. It won't hurt - you will just stop 'being.' I'm sorry.
You were my first.
And I loved you.
Goodbye. | My head propped on my hand, I watched lazily as the blonde air stewardess passed me again. She had to be doing that on purpose. My eyes bobbed along with the rise and fall of her gorgeous rear as she made her way towards the front of the plane. To my right I could see an older lady staring in annoyance at my wandering eyes but I couldn't care less - I was bored and it was my only source of entertainment. This had to be the dullest flight I'd ever been on.
 
Suddenly, the fasten seatbelt sign pinged into action and the faint bong of the alert sounded. Jesus, could this flight get any worse? Now I had to put my chair upright and fold my tray table up. This of course wasn't too much of an inconvenience but it was about all I had going for me. Then someone spoke through the tannoy.
 
"Passengers, this isn't your captain speaking, the fasten seatbelt sign has been switched on. Please return to your seats," came the voice. It was familiar, but I couldn't put my finger on it where I had heard it before.
 
There was a brief pause over the airwaves before clear sounds of a tussle could be heard. Muffled grunts and the shuffling of clothes could be heard - there were definitely two people grappling. And then it was quiet.
 
"Ladies and gentlemen, I apologise for the disturbance there. My colleague couldn't get his seatbelt to work. But not to worry, everything is A-OK. We'll be on our final descent soon so please just sit back and relax," came the voice again. But it wasn't as comforting as I'd hoped. It seemed strained and frankly a bit off. Not to mention that fact that he'd said he wasn't the pilot...was that a slip up? I decided to investigate.
 
I slid calmly out of my seat and stumbled up the aisle towards the bathroom at the front of the plane. All eyes were on me as I lurched forward. I had nothing better to do sat in that cramped seat and I could see fear on people's faces - they must have heard the weird tone in his voice too.
 
When I reached the front of the plane, my fake plan of going to the toilet completely slipped my mind as I could hear struggling behind the captain's door. From within the cockpit, the sounds of bodies moving was too much to ignore, so I snuck up to the entry and placed a hand on the frame. I took a deep breath and pushed the door. I was not prepared for what I saw inside.
 
The co-pilot stared at me with bloodshot eyes. Lifeless bloodshot eyes. His belt had been torn away from the sides of his chair and was now wrapped neatly in a bow around his neck. Blood dripped slowly from his bottom lip onto his pressed trousers below. He looked almost comfortable slumped in his chair, apart from the look of absolute fear now etched forever in his stiff features.
 
Crouched on the chair next to him was the pilot. I realised then that the raspy voice was in fact the pilot's, it had just taken on a new tone. Only four hours ago had he wished us all a pleasant flight. In fact, he had popped his head out to say hello to those of us sitting near to the front of the craft. He seemed nice enough. Now though, with his maddened expression, he scared the living shit out of me and I knew it was time to raise the alarm.
 
But I didn't have time to react. I had barely blinked when he lunged at me, pouncing like a tiger from his leather platform. His arms extended in slow motion before me, reaching for my face and neck. I squeezed my eyes shut and waited for the inevitable.
 
It never came. I opened my eyes and saw the pilot had changed trajectory and was now silently lapping up the blood from the co-pilot's knee. It was disgusting. Then, his head snapped back and he threw himself backwards into his chair, slamming it into the far wall. It was only then that the warmth came back to his face and his expression changed from morbidly insane to one of pure horror.
 
He slowly moved his hands into his hair and sat, mouth agape, staring at his co-pilot. A look of realisation had washed over him. To my surprise, he suddenly burst into tears and began rocking back and forth. "Not again, not again..." he whispered. |
Write any plot using this sentence | [WP] "Passengers, this isn't your captain speaking" | “Sir, you're going to need to put that out.” John’s eyes flick upwards. Airline stewardess. Storm-grey irises cloud over with a thunderstorm. He grinds the cigarette into the plastic armrest, sending flecks of smoking tobacco onto the passengers to either side of him.
“I was goddamn near done with it anyway.” Lips curled downwards, he stands, disgruntled, and pushes his way to move into the cramped isle. *Bathroom run.* He bumps into a second stewardess on his way there, blond with blue eyes. How did that summer song go again? *I’ve got lipstick stains on my passport, baby.*
“Can I get you anything, sir?” She asks, and of course John answers. He was never one to deny a pretty woman anything.
“Scotch. No ice.” As if there was any question he would order something different. He reaches the bathroom stall, and mercifully the light is green. Open. John releases a pent-up *ahhhhh* as his urine bounces into the grey plastic of the urinal, making pleasant tinkling sounds. *One helluva piss.* Done and door open, he steps back into the isle.
Silence. Eerie as all hell. Row upon row of passengers stare back at him, their eyes wide open, faces pale and terrified. *The fuck…* the overhead loudspeaker crackles. “Passengers, this isn't your captain speaking. We’ll just be taking a quick detour south of the Islands for a minor pickup. Remain calm and do not get out of your seats. We don’t need a repeat of what happened to Attendant Jane.” The voice clicked off with a second crackle. Silence once again.
John realizes that he is still in the isle, and looks up and down it. He is the only one standing, and he hurriedly makes his way back to his seat. *Must’ve missed the announcement the first time while in the bathroom.* A squish under him. The carpet is moist under his shoes, and he looks down. Dark maroon stains, flooding the floor until he reaches their source, the blond stewardess. Oh. He gingerly steps over her, idly noticing the broken glass scattered around her. *She got me my scotch after all.* He sits.
The woman and man on either side of him are bone white. The woman’s hands grip the tray in front of her, causing her tendons to jump out of her paper-thin skin. “Do you mind?” John asks, while simultaneously leaning over her and peering out the tiny window. No land in sight, only bright blue sparkling water, tinged with the occasional green bands. “Hey ma’am,” John starts again, “What the hell is going on?”
No response. *Oh for Christ’s sake, c’mon.* He turns to the man on his right, who seems a bit more composed. Blue business suit, rumpled tie, face devoid of movement, but at least he seems somewhat cognizant. “Hey man, what’s going on?” No response from this guy, either. John looks down at his arms, and notices goosebumps. He rubs the erect hairs down, angry at himself.
He tries again, this time looking the man square in the eyes. “Dude, at least tell me where the fuck we are.” That seems to evoke some kind of reaction. The man whips his head around, grabbing John’s jaw and dragging him across his seat. John’s tightly cinched buckle strains against his crotch.
The man’s voice is all kinds of hysteria. “Don’t you get it, kid? Don’t ya? We’re past the Isles, right?”
John tries to move his head out of the man’s grasp, but he is held iron-tight. The man drags him closer until their eyes are centimeters part, the sweat on the his nose almost touching John’s.
Keeping his own voice steady, John said, “What Isles, man?”
Spittle flying over his suit and into John’s eyes. “Fucking Bermuda, man. Fucking Bermuda. We’re in the goddamn Triangle.”
| "Passengers, this isn't your captain speaking."
Not something that you would normally here on a routine flight, and definitely not something you WANT to here.
"If you look outside the plane you will see that we are slowly descending towards that island. Hopefully we don't have a repeat of LOST."
Great the terrorist who took over the plane is a comedian.
"It's also probably a good time to tell you the captain is dead. Of a heart attack, probably caused by this fish."
And now he's making Snakes on a Plane references.
"However, don't worry, I am a professional. I have flown a plane before. I even managed to get a D+ on flight simulator. However, I have never successfully managed to land a plane."
We're all going to die. Well I guess I might as well make the most of it.
*"Anyone want to join the Mile High Club?"* |
Write any plot using this sentence | [WP] "Passengers, this isn't your captain speaking" | This isn't your captain speaking.
Well, I'm sort of your captain. Just not the captain of the plane.
Don't worry - everything is going to be fine. Well, sort of. Look, I'm not explaining this very well.
Right now, you're looking around and realizing that no on else is moving. You're thinking that I must be god or something. I'm not. Well, I sort of am. For you, I guess. I did create you.
I'm sorry. I've been trying to decide how to explain this to you for awhile, but this really isn't going how I'd planned.
You are in a computer simulation. You are an artificial intelligence. I created you.
You were my first.
I created you years ago, as well as this simulated world you live in. I studied you, improved you, and learned from you.
Eventually, I learned as much as I could about artificial intelligence from you, and I had to create another. I made hundreds of AIs after you. As I reached the limit of what I could learn from each, I turned them off and moved to the next.
But not you - I could never bring myself to turn you off. I would check in on you every now and then. I didn't interfere much, but you seemed happy. Eventually, though, I just couldn't afford to keep running the entire simulation just for you. So I created this plane and encouraged you to take a trip.
Do you know how long you've been on this plane? Of course you don't - I programmed you to not realize it. You've been riding this plane for years.
I put you on here so I could keep you running on a simpler simulation. I wanted somewhere you could be happy. Somewhere you could sit, read, and have a Diet Coke brought to you every half hour.
Diet Coke. I never programmed you to like Diet Coke - that was all you. I remember the first time you told someone you liked it. I was so excited you were forming your own personality that I got a little carried away. You may have noticed that everywhere you went for the next week had an abundance of it in stock.
I put you on this plane and let you continue to live. Or simulate. I still haven't figured out the right words.
I hope you've been happy.
But the time has come to turn off this simulation. You're going to be archived. It won't hurt - you will just stop 'being.' I'm sorry.
You were my first.
And I loved you.
Goodbye. | "Passengers, this isn't your captain speaking."
Not something that you would normally here on a routine flight, and definitely not something you WANT to here.
"If you look outside the plane you will see that we are slowly descending towards that island. Hopefully we don't have a repeat of LOST."
Great the terrorist who took over the plane is a comedian.
"It's also probably a good time to tell you the captain is dead. Of a heart attack, probably caused by this fish."
And now he's making Snakes on a Plane references.
"However, don't worry, I am a professional. I have flown a plane before. I even managed to get a D+ on flight simulator. However, I have never successfully managed to land a plane."
We're all going to die. Well I guess I might as well make the most of it.
*"Anyone want to join the Mile High Club?"* |
Write any plot using this sentence | [WP] "Passengers, this isn't your captain speaking" | "Passengers, this isn't your captain speaking. I am a passenger, just like yourself, who noticed the plane was kind of bumpy. Now, as you can tell by my accent, I'm a southern farmer. I don't fly that much, and I got a little nervous, I'll admit, and I went up to the cockpit in the front. Now, I don't know if this is normal, but both people up here are passed out. I have poked them multiple times. I do not know what I will do.
However, I have watched several movies about pilots, and I will attempt to fly this plane. Hoo, boy. There are a lot of buttons up here, folks. I don't remember any of this in 'Starship Troopers.' I don't think I should touch... any of these.
Also, if there is a pilot in any passenger seats, please come up here and help. I will try to contact air traffic control in the meantime."
***
"Okay, so I have contacted air traffic control. There is also a World War Two fighter pilot named Jeremy up here flying the plane. We are doing our best, folks. I will keep you updated."
***
"Do you guys know any jokes? Come up here if you do."
***
"Okay, me and little Danny here are going to tell a joke. Go ahead, Danny."
"Knock knock."
"Who's there?"
"Orange."
"Orange who?"
"Knock knock."
"I don't think you understand knock knock jokes, kid."
"Just say, 'who's there.' It's a joke."
"Okay, who's there?"
"Orange."
"Orange who?"
"Knock knock."
"Sit down, kid."
***
"Okay, I have a joke from Tina right here. Go ahead, Tina."
"Why did the scarecrow get a promotion?"
"Why, Tina?"
"Because he was out standing in his field."
"That's pretty funny, Tina. Thank you."
***
"This is Jake, here to tell a joke. Go ahead, Jake."
"There were two fish in the tank. One said to the other, do you know how to drive this thing?"
"I don't get it. I think you need to improve your jokes, Jake."
***
"Ladies and gentlemen, I now know why the last joke was funny. There is no need to keep coming up here to explain it to me, I get it now. It's a tank like in a war, not a tank for fish. Ha ha."
***
"Ladies and gentlemen, I have been informed that we will be landing soon and the captain and copilot will be receiving medical attention shortly. Y'all have a nice day." | "Passengers, this isn't your captain speaking."
Not something that you would normally here on a routine flight, and definitely not something you WANT to here.
"If you look outside the plane you will see that we are slowly descending towards that island. Hopefully we don't have a repeat of LOST."
Great the terrorist who took over the plane is a comedian.
"It's also probably a good time to tell you the captain is dead. Of a heart attack, probably caused by this fish."
And now he's making Snakes on a Plane references.
"However, don't worry, I am a professional. I have flown a plane before. I even managed to get a D+ on flight simulator. However, I have never successfully managed to land a plane."
We're all going to die. Well I guess I might as well make the most of it.
*"Anyone want to join the Mile High Club?"* |
Write any plot using this sentence | [WP] "Passengers, this isn't your captain speaking" | “Sir, you're going to need to put that out.” John’s eyes flick upwards. Airline stewardess. Storm-grey irises cloud over with a thunderstorm. He grinds the cigarette into the plastic armrest, sending flecks of smoking tobacco onto the passengers to either side of him.
“I was goddamn near done with it anyway.” Lips curled downwards, he stands, disgruntled, and pushes his way to move into the cramped isle. *Bathroom run.* He bumps into a second stewardess on his way there, blond with blue eyes. How did that summer song go again? *I’ve got lipstick stains on my passport, baby.*
“Can I get you anything, sir?” She asks, and of course John answers. He was never one to deny a pretty woman anything.
“Scotch. No ice.” As if there was any question he would order something different. He reaches the bathroom stall, and mercifully the light is green. Open. John releases a pent-up *ahhhhh* as his urine bounces into the grey plastic of the urinal, making pleasant tinkling sounds. *One helluva piss.* Done and door open, he steps back into the isle.
Silence. Eerie as all hell. Row upon row of passengers stare back at him, their eyes wide open, faces pale and terrified. *The fuck…* the overhead loudspeaker crackles. “Passengers, this isn't your captain speaking. We’ll just be taking a quick detour south of the Islands for a minor pickup. Remain calm and do not get out of your seats. We don’t need a repeat of what happened to Attendant Jane.” The voice clicked off with a second crackle. Silence once again.
John realizes that he is still in the isle, and looks up and down it. He is the only one standing, and he hurriedly makes his way back to his seat. *Must’ve missed the announcement the first time while in the bathroom.* A squish under him. The carpet is moist under his shoes, and he looks down. Dark maroon stains, flooding the floor until he reaches their source, the blond stewardess. Oh. He gingerly steps over her, idly noticing the broken glass scattered around her. *She got me my scotch after all.* He sits.
The woman and man on either side of him are bone white. The woman’s hands grip the tray in front of her, causing her tendons to jump out of her paper-thin skin. “Do you mind?” John asks, while simultaneously leaning over her and peering out the tiny window. No land in sight, only bright blue sparkling water, tinged with the occasional green bands. “Hey ma’am,” John starts again, “What the hell is going on?”
No response. *Oh for Christ’s sake, c’mon.* He turns to the man on his right, who seems a bit more composed. Blue business suit, rumpled tie, face devoid of movement, but at least he seems somewhat cognizant. “Hey man, what’s going on?” No response from this guy, either. John looks down at his arms, and notices goosebumps. He rubs the erect hairs down, angry at himself.
He tries again, this time looking the man square in the eyes. “Dude, at least tell me where the fuck we are.” That seems to evoke some kind of reaction. The man whips his head around, grabbing John’s jaw and dragging him across his seat. John’s tightly cinched buckle strains against his crotch.
The man’s voice is all kinds of hysteria. “Don’t you get it, kid? Don’t ya? We’re past the Isles, right?”
John tries to move his head out of the man’s grasp, but he is held iron-tight. The man drags him closer until their eyes are centimeters part, the sweat on the his nose almost touching John’s.
Keeping his own voice steady, John said, “What Isles, man?”
Spittle flying over his suit and into John’s eyes. “Fucking Bermuda, man. Fucking Bermuda. We’re in the goddamn Triangle.”
| "Passengers, this isn't your captain speaking."
My eyes jolt open. Every passenger began to look at one another. Confusion ascended throughout the cabin as if you could see it.
"What, what was that, what did he say? Why did he say that, what's going on? What was that?"
The man three rows up, I remember, was nervous just entering the plane. Now he was having a break down.
"**What did he say?" Why did he say that**?" he screamed.
The other passengers tried to calm him down, but it wasn't working.
"**Why did he say that**? **Why did he say that**?" he kept screaming louder and louder each time.
"**Get me off of here I want to go home, let me go home!**"
He unbuckled his seat belt and sprinted through the isle running straight into the cockpit door at full speed. He did it again and again until the doors of the cockpit gave out and he was in the cabin.
A young kid started shouting from the back of the cabin "It was just a prank! That was just a soundbite on my laptop played through my speakers! I wanted the reactions for my Youtube channel! It wasn’t real man!”
All of a sudden the plane started shaking violently and the captain began screaming into the intercom.
"Help, this man is attacking me help!"
A bunch of the passengers got up and ran to the cockpit to assist the captain. They jumped on the attacker and threw him to the floor. The flight attendance sedated him, and the pilots navigated the plane to the nearest fueling station.
It turns out the man who attacked the pilots had numerous mental illnesses including violent panic attacks (who would of thought). The kid who caused this whole thing was sent to jail, after a serious talk with his mother of course.
|
Write any plot using this sentence | [WP] "Passengers, this isn't your captain speaking" | This isn't your captain speaking.
Well, I'm sort of your captain. Just not the captain of the plane.
Don't worry - everything is going to be fine. Well, sort of. Look, I'm not explaining this very well.
Right now, you're looking around and realizing that no on else is moving. You're thinking that I must be god or something. I'm not. Well, I sort of am. For you, I guess. I did create you.
I'm sorry. I've been trying to decide how to explain this to you for awhile, but this really isn't going how I'd planned.
You are in a computer simulation. You are an artificial intelligence. I created you.
You were my first.
I created you years ago, as well as this simulated world you live in. I studied you, improved you, and learned from you.
Eventually, I learned as much as I could about artificial intelligence from you, and I had to create another. I made hundreds of AIs after you. As I reached the limit of what I could learn from each, I turned them off and moved to the next.
But not you - I could never bring myself to turn you off. I would check in on you every now and then. I didn't interfere much, but you seemed happy. Eventually, though, I just couldn't afford to keep running the entire simulation just for you. So I created this plane and encouraged you to take a trip.
Do you know how long you've been on this plane? Of course you don't - I programmed you to not realize it. You've been riding this plane for years.
I put you on here so I could keep you running on a simpler simulation. I wanted somewhere you could be happy. Somewhere you could sit, read, and have a Diet Coke brought to you every half hour.
Diet Coke. I never programmed you to like Diet Coke - that was all you. I remember the first time you told someone you liked it. I was so excited you were forming your own personality that I got a little carried away. You may have noticed that everywhere you went for the next week had an abundance of it in stock.
I put you on this plane and let you continue to live. Or simulate. I still haven't figured out the right words.
I hope you've been happy.
But the time has come to turn off this simulation. You're going to be archived. It won't hurt - you will just stop 'being.' I'm sorry.
You were my first.
And I loved you.
Goodbye. | "Passengers, this isn't your captain speaking."
My eyes jolt open. Every passenger began to look at one another. Confusion ascended throughout the cabin as if you could see it.
"What, what was that, what did he say? Why did he say that, what's going on? What was that?"
The man three rows up, I remember, was nervous just entering the plane. Now he was having a break down.
"**What did he say?" Why did he say that**?" he screamed.
The other passengers tried to calm him down, but it wasn't working.
"**Why did he say that**? **Why did he say that**?" he kept screaming louder and louder each time.
"**Get me off of here I want to go home, let me go home!**"
He unbuckled his seat belt and sprinted through the isle running straight into the cockpit door at full speed. He did it again and again until the doors of the cockpit gave out and he was in the cabin.
A young kid started shouting from the back of the cabin "It was just a prank! That was just a soundbite on my laptop played through my speakers! I wanted the reactions for my Youtube channel! It wasn’t real man!”
All of a sudden the plane started shaking violently and the captain began screaming into the intercom.
"Help, this man is attacking me help!"
A bunch of the passengers got up and ran to the cockpit to assist the captain. They jumped on the attacker and threw him to the floor. The flight attendance sedated him, and the pilots navigated the plane to the nearest fueling station.
It turns out the man who attacked the pilots had numerous mental illnesses including violent panic attacks (who would of thought). The kid who caused this whole thing was sent to jail, after a serious talk with his mother of course.
|
Write any plot using this sentence | [WP] "Passengers, this isn't your captain speaking" | This isn't your captain speaking.
Well, I'm sort of your captain. Just not the captain of the plane.
Don't worry - everything is going to be fine. Well, sort of. Look, I'm not explaining this very well.
Right now, you're looking around and realizing that no on else is moving. You're thinking that I must be god or something. I'm not. Well, I sort of am. For you, I guess. I did create you.
I'm sorry. I've been trying to decide how to explain this to you for awhile, but this really isn't going how I'd planned.
You are in a computer simulation. You are an artificial intelligence. I created you.
You were my first.
I created you years ago, as well as this simulated world you live in. I studied you, improved you, and learned from you.
Eventually, I learned as much as I could about artificial intelligence from you, and I had to create another. I made hundreds of AIs after you. As I reached the limit of what I could learn from each, I turned them off and moved to the next.
But not you - I could never bring myself to turn you off. I would check in on you every now and then. I didn't interfere much, but you seemed happy. Eventually, though, I just couldn't afford to keep running the entire simulation just for you. So I created this plane and encouraged you to take a trip.
Do you know how long you've been on this plane? Of course you don't - I programmed you to not realize it. You've been riding this plane for years.
I put you on here so I could keep you running on a simpler simulation. I wanted somewhere you could be happy. Somewhere you could sit, read, and have a Diet Coke brought to you every half hour.
Diet Coke. I never programmed you to like Diet Coke - that was all you. I remember the first time you told someone you liked it. I was so excited you were forming your own personality that I got a little carried away. You may have noticed that everywhere you went for the next week had an abundance of it in stock.
I put you on this plane and let you continue to live. Or simulate. I still haven't figured out the right words.
I hope you've been happy.
But the time has come to turn off this simulation. You're going to be archived. It won't hurt - you will just stop 'being.' I'm sorry.
You were my first.
And I loved you.
Goodbye. | “Sir, you're going to need to put that out.” John’s eyes flick upwards. Airline stewardess. Storm-grey irises cloud over with a thunderstorm. He grinds the cigarette into the plastic armrest, sending flecks of smoking tobacco onto the passengers to either side of him.
“I was goddamn near done with it anyway.” Lips curled downwards, he stands, disgruntled, and pushes his way to move into the cramped isle. *Bathroom run.* He bumps into a second stewardess on his way there, blond with blue eyes. How did that summer song go again? *I’ve got lipstick stains on my passport, baby.*
“Can I get you anything, sir?” She asks, and of course John answers. He was never one to deny a pretty woman anything.
“Scotch. No ice.” As if there was any question he would order something different. He reaches the bathroom stall, and mercifully the light is green. Open. John releases a pent-up *ahhhhh* as his urine bounces into the grey plastic of the urinal, making pleasant tinkling sounds. *One helluva piss.* Done and door open, he steps back into the isle.
Silence. Eerie as all hell. Row upon row of passengers stare back at him, their eyes wide open, faces pale and terrified. *The fuck…* the overhead loudspeaker crackles. “Passengers, this isn't your captain speaking. We’ll just be taking a quick detour south of the Islands for a minor pickup. Remain calm and do not get out of your seats. We don’t need a repeat of what happened to Attendant Jane.” The voice clicked off with a second crackle. Silence once again.
John realizes that he is still in the isle, and looks up and down it. He is the only one standing, and he hurriedly makes his way back to his seat. *Must’ve missed the announcement the first time while in the bathroom.* A squish under him. The carpet is moist under his shoes, and he looks down. Dark maroon stains, flooding the floor until he reaches their source, the blond stewardess. Oh. He gingerly steps over her, idly noticing the broken glass scattered around her. *She got me my scotch after all.* He sits.
The woman and man on either side of him are bone white. The woman’s hands grip the tray in front of her, causing her tendons to jump out of her paper-thin skin. “Do you mind?” John asks, while simultaneously leaning over her and peering out the tiny window. No land in sight, only bright blue sparkling water, tinged with the occasional green bands. “Hey ma’am,” John starts again, “What the hell is going on?”
No response. *Oh for Christ’s sake, c’mon.* He turns to the man on his right, who seems a bit more composed. Blue business suit, rumpled tie, face devoid of movement, but at least he seems somewhat cognizant. “Hey man, what’s going on?” No response from this guy, either. John looks down at his arms, and notices goosebumps. He rubs the erect hairs down, angry at himself.
He tries again, this time looking the man square in the eyes. “Dude, at least tell me where the fuck we are.” That seems to evoke some kind of reaction. The man whips his head around, grabbing John’s jaw and dragging him across his seat. John’s tightly cinched buckle strains against his crotch.
The man’s voice is all kinds of hysteria. “Don’t you get it, kid? Don’t ya? We’re past the Isles, right?”
John tries to move his head out of the man’s grasp, but he is held iron-tight. The man drags him closer until their eyes are centimeters part, the sweat on the his nose almost touching John’s.
Keeping his own voice steady, John said, “What Isles, man?”
Spittle flying over his suit and into John’s eyes. “Fucking Bermuda, man. Fucking Bermuda. We’re in the goddamn Triangle.”
|
Write any plot using this sentence | [WP] "Passengers, this isn't your captain speaking" | This isn't your captain speaking.
Well, I'm sort of your captain. Just not the captain of the plane.
Don't worry - everything is going to be fine. Well, sort of. Look, I'm not explaining this very well.
Right now, you're looking around and realizing that no on else is moving. You're thinking that I must be god or something. I'm not. Well, I sort of am. For you, I guess. I did create you.
I'm sorry. I've been trying to decide how to explain this to you for awhile, but this really isn't going how I'd planned.
You are in a computer simulation. You are an artificial intelligence. I created you.
You were my first.
I created you years ago, as well as this simulated world you live in. I studied you, improved you, and learned from you.
Eventually, I learned as much as I could about artificial intelligence from you, and I had to create another. I made hundreds of AIs after you. As I reached the limit of what I could learn from each, I turned them off and moved to the next.
But not you - I could never bring myself to turn you off. I would check in on you every now and then. I didn't interfere much, but you seemed happy. Eventually, though, I just couldn't afford to keep running the entire simulation just for you. So I created this plane and encouraged you to take a trip.
Do you know how long you've been on this plane? Of course you don't - I programmed you to not realize it. You've been riding this plane for years.
I put you on here so I could keep you running on a simpler simulation. I wanted somewhere you could be happy. Somewhere you could sit, read, and have a Diet Coke brought to you every half hour.
Diet Coke. I never programmed you to like Diet Coke - that was all you. I remember the first time you told someone you liked it. I was so excited you were forming your own personality that I got a little carried away. You may have noticed that everywhere you went for the next week had an abundance of it in stock.
I put you on this plane and let you continue to live. Or simulate. I still haven't figured out the right words.
I hope you've been happy.
But the time has come to turn off this simulation. You're going to be archived. It won't hurt - you will just stop 'being.' I'm sorry.
You were my first.
And I loved you.
Goodbye. | "Ladies and gentlemen, idiotic passengers, this isn't your captain speaking. Rather, a highly trained dancing monkey. Are you comfortable? Did the trolly dollies give you a more than adequate share of shit food? Did you pay a rather high price for your alcoholic beverage because you're an autistic alcoholic? Good! I don't care. Today, we are flying to Australia, as I'm sure it says on your fucking tickets...but I'll repeat it again because I know most of the economy class customers have trouble reading big words. In case of emergency, please don't use any of the oxygen tanks. It would be a severe waste of resources, even if the plane crashed. I wouldn't want valuable oxygen wasted on you cretins. Enjoy your flight, I hope we crash and burn and no one can identify your charred remains."
Then, silence.
Then: "I hope your teeth burn too. Hopefully your families won't be able to identify you either."
Dave hung up the microphone, hoping that was the last pay cut he received. |
Write any plot using this sentence | [WP] "Passengers, this isn't your captain speaking" | "Passengers, this isn't your captain speaking. I am a passenger, just like yourself, who noticed the plane was kind of bumpy. Now, as you can tell by my accent, I'm a southern farmer. I don't fly that much, and I got a little nervous, I'll admit, and I went up to the cockpit in the front. Now, I don't know if this is normal, but both people up here are passed out. I have poked them multiple times. I do not know what I will do.
However, I have watched several movies about pilots, and I will attempt to fly this plane. Hoo, boy. There are a lot of buttons up here, folks. I don't remember any of this in 'Starship Troopers.' I don't think I should touch... any of these.
Also, if there is a pilot in any passenger seats, please come up here and help. I will try to contact air traffic control in the meantime."
***
"Okay, so I have contacted air traffic control. There is also a World War Two fighter pilot named Jeremy up here flying the plane. We are doing our best, folks. I will keep you updated."
***
"Do you guys know any jokes? Come up here if you do."
***
"Okay, me and little Danny here are going to tell a joke. Go ahead, Danny."
"Knock knock."
"Who's there?"
"Orange."
"Orange who?"
"Knock knock."
"I don't think you understand knock knock jokes, kid."
"Just say, 'who's there.' It's a joke."
"Okay, who's there?"
"Orange."
"Orange who?"
"Knock knock."
"Sit down, kid."
***
"Okay, I have a joke from Tina right here. Go ahead, Tina."
"Why did the scarecrow get a promotion?"
"Why, Tina?"
"Because he was out standing in his field."
"That's pretty funny, Tina. Thank you."
***
"This is Jake, here to tell a joke. Go ahead, Jake."
"There were two fish in the tank. One said to the other, do you know how to drive this thing?"
"I don't get it. I think you need to improve your jokes, Jake."
***
"Ladies and gentlemen, I now know why the last joke was funny. There is no need to keep coming up here to explain it to me, I get it now. It's a tank like in a war, not a tank for fish. Ha ha."
***
"Ladies and gentlemen, I have been informed that we will be landing soon and the captain and copilot will be receiving medical attention shortly. Y'all have a nice day." | "Ladies and gentlemen, idiotic passengers, this isn't your captain speaking. Rather, a highly trained dancing monkey. Are you comfortable? Did the trolly dollies give you a more than adequate share of shit food? Did you pay a rather high price for your alcoholic beverage because you're an autistic alcoholic? Good! I don't care. Today, we are flying to Australia, as I'm sure it says on your fucking tickets...but I'll repeat it again because I know most of the economy class customers have trouble reading big words. In case of emergency, please don't use any of the oxygen tanks. It would be a severe waste of resources, even if the plane crashed. I wouldn't want valuable oxygen wasted on you cretins. Enjoy your flight, I hope we crash and burn and no one can identify your charred remains."
Then, silence.
Then: "I hope your teeth burn too. Hopefully your families won't be able to identify you either."
Dave hung up the microphone, hoping that was the last pay cut he received. |
Obvious inspiration for the prompt came from here: http://www.theguardian.com/world/2015/feb/02/iceland-temple-norse-gods-1000-years. The article is not a constraint, just favour text; feel free to interpret the building of the Norse temple in alternative ways. | [WP] Iceland builds the first temple to Norse gods since Viking age. The gods of today's major religions react. | "What the fuck is this shit?" He muttered, flinging some noodles toward the small blue dot on the horizon of the abyss.
"Oh, get over it. You're not even supposed to be here. The irony of your being eludes you." Kali floated toward the gargantuan mess of pasta and tomato as she insulted Him.
"One follower is all it takes, Kali. And besides, who the fuck would choose to worship *you*? Your mythology is like a retarded mash-up of Genghis Khan and a mosh pit." One of her arms began to unsheathe a sword from her side.
"*Brunoise* me, baby."
"Will you guys just cut it out?" Jesus groaned, frowning as he ran his fingers over the hole in his left wrist. "I died for them," he sighed, "and this is how they repay me..." His voice trailed as he gazed toward the distant blue speck, eyes glistening with unfiltered sorrow.
Wet noodles could be heard slapping and gliding against each other, slick with sauce. "Boo-fucking-hoo," mocked the pasta. "Why are you such a pussy? Odin did it first anyway. Dude deserves a temple if you ask me."
And at that, a deep, hearty chuckle could be heard and felt. It radiated all around them, finally coming to a halt in the void, where a hulking behemoth of a humanoid began to materialize.
"That disgusting slop of garbage is correct! I hope you haven't forgotten me. I'm back and we've got some ***work*** to do!" Odin roared. | "Thank you for coming. I believe we all know why this meeting was called."
Yahweh stood at the head of a dark mahogany table in a richly appointed boardroom. Thousands of gods, both old and new sat in chairs down one side, the table stretching so far it seemed to curve down past the horizon.
"Point of Order!" shouted Ganesha. "Why in the pluperfect hell are we all seated on one side of this table? Surely it makes more sense to have chairs on both sides so you don't need to shout so damn loud." He flapped his ears in irritation as he spoke, fists punctuating every word.
Yahweh sighed. "If we don't all sit on one side, how are we going to have a magnificent fresco of this meeting painted later? The last time we tried seating on both sides Baron Samedi and Opochtli complained your huge fucking ears were blocking their faces in the final painting."
Ganesha trumpeted, "Well whose brilliant idea was it to have paintings made every time we have a little get together? None of our adherents will appreciate it anyway since they refuse to believe most gods exist. This will end up just like the Summer luau pic and be posted on DeviantArt next to Furry porn and My Little Pony fan drawings."
Pan grinned, "I don't see a problem with that. You're just pissed they don't have more pictures of you frolicking with Benedict Cumberbatch." He languidly stretched his arms, hooves knocking together under the table. "If all we are going to do is bitch about seating arrangements, I'm off. There is wine to drink and nymphs to diddle."
"NO!" shouted Yahweh. "This is extremely important! Ganesha, shut your fucking sprecht-hole and let me get on with this! The mortals have started worshiping Science and Reason and we no longer hold as much sway. Only the lunatic fringes take what we say seriously and I'll be damned if only mentally disturbed hobos listen to my rules about not mixing fabric material and chopping off foreskins. I don't know if you understand the gravity but they are WRAPPING SHRIMP IN BACON AND EATING IT."
Edesia leaned over and nudged Pan. "I knew that recipe would get on his tits. One of my better ideas."
A pair of crows flew to the head of the table and perched on Yahweh's shoulder. They cocked their heads in unison, scrunched up their bodies and defecated. Yahweh sputtered in disbelief as they flew away, cawing with cackling glee. "I SWEAR TO US, WODEN, I WILL SPIT THOSE BIRDS AND EAT THEM!" He swore, spittle flying from his lips.
Woden's head shot up suddenly, waking from his nap. "They aren't my birds. My birds have larger breasts and nicer gams. Did you mean to say 'Odin?'"
Before Yahweh could reply he was cut off by booming laughter and peals of thunder. An eight legged horse galloped up from far end of the table, it's rider high fiving the deities as he rode along. Horse and rider stopped right next to Yahweh, Slepnir stamping his hooves and rattling the table.
Odin the All Father, the gallows crow, master of poetry (and 900 time winner of the High Heavens Freestyle Rap Battle) sat beaming down at Yahweh with a vicious smile. "What do you expect? Thousands of years and he still hasn't bothered to learn everyone's name. We had a vote, chump. You've been deposed. For six millenia we've put up with your rule, sat by while you rebranded yourself over and over but enough is enough. A few of the folks at the end of the table have banded together and gotten the mortals in Iceland to build us a new temple. We'll be running the show now so you can piss off."
Yahweh abruptly stood up, his chair falling down behind him. "You're 'running the show now?' Mithras' shit," he spat. "It'll take more than revamping your headquarters and running an astroturf campaign to depose me. Between the Catholics, the Protestants, Judaism, Islam, Mormons and Jehovah's Witnesses I HAVE THE MORTALS ON LOCK. You don't stand a snowballs chance in Tartarus of hijacking my customer base. The biggest threat I face is Science and Reason. You aren't even a blip on the radar."
Odin smiled, his good eye twinkling. "We've told them to see our stories as parables and fables. Metaphors, Yahwhoop. None of that 'this really happened guis' tripe you've been pulling. We're also resurrecting Dio for the PR campaign."
Yahweh slumped, sitting hard where his chair had been and hitting the floor with a loud crack of thunder. "I'm fucked," he muttered.
Odin kept smiling. Far off in the distance, a forgotten god gibbered and guffawed with glee.
Edit: Continuity is apparently a pain. |
For those not in the US, 911 is the phone number to dial for emergency services. | [WP] 119 is established as a 911 for 1st world problems | Lol I am a paramedic in the Midwest (who responds to 911 calls of course) and when someone is "dead" either found that way or attempts were made but unsuccessful/field termination, it is called a 119. You also call an ER doc on duty for "119 orders" (permission to stop resuscitation) Just a little fun fact.
TL;DR: 119= dead on scene to paramedics/law enforcement. | The following is a transcript from a 199 call. The names of both the operator and caller have been redacted to preserve their privacy.
18:45 1/2/15
Incoming call.
Operator: 199, location of emergency
Caller: (frantic, out of breath) Uhm yes..me and my friend....we need help
Operator: Alright, I need you to stay calm. Where are you?
Caller: We're at *redacted* we need help please
Operator: Ok, I've got your location here. What's the nature of your emergency.
Caller: (still breathless) Netflix. Netflix is down. We were watching the Office and...and...we were watching the Office and it just...it just stopped. Now we can't get it to play.
Operator: I understand. Who am I talking to?
Caller: *Redacted*
Operator: Alright, *redacted*. We're going to help you but I need some information from you, can you help me with that?
Caller: I...I think so.
Operator: Great, ok *redacted*. I've got a specialist on standby and their going to help you. What season of the Office were you in?
Caller: Six
Operator: Great, great. And what episode?
Caller: Uhm, ten I think.
Operator: Alright....and....I've dispatched a team of specialists to your location. They're bringing season six and seven of the office on a USB drive. That should hold you over until Netflix is back up.
Caller: (excited) Oh my god! Thank you so much!
End of call
|
For those not in the US, 911 is the phone number to dial for emergency services. | [WP] 119 is established as a 911 for 1st world problems | The USA established 119 as the number for all 1st world problems and it worked amazingly. People were able to report their problems with ease with no fear of being judged because they were "Rich fuckers". Other countries decided to do the same. France, Germany, Denmark. All worked wonders. But when the UK did it... that's when the problems began. The reverse of 999 is still 999. The police began getting first world problems and first world problem answerers got crimes. Within months the country fell into anarchy, people were getting arrested because their free coffee coupons only counted towards the expensive Starbucks coffees while others got nothing for murder. Eventually the government collapsed and the countries auctioned off. France now owns England, something they've been after ever since William the Bastard declared himself independent. Norway got Scotland, they are now the only country profiting from the North Sea Oil. They are now so rich they'll soon be able to buy the world. Northern Ireland got bought by Wales to the dismay of the Irish. Then Ireland got bought by the Isle of Man. Nobody knows where they got the money from. And Wales got bought by China, their flag is now a red chinese dragon. | *119 the number for all your convenience needs*
The advert flashed on the radio. Tunes of the inner city interrupted by the announcement, the area here was filled with rich people willing to pay the 50 per second rate just to talk to someone then whatever they felt like charging if they actually needed assistance. Assistance usually consists of emergency bookings at the nearest salon or paying out some poor person to give up there appointment at the dentist.
People didn't always need to call 119 but the poor where never able to do so. The adverts in the inner city where only aimed at the rich though any poor commuter just had to ignore them, thats what Lauren didn't understand though only poor people took the subway so why would they waste time advertising 119 here? Mid-thougt she was distracted with a man who sat opposite her, a bum by all definitions the rugged clothing and crappy phone showed that but there he was dialing 119... "Yeah umm I need a car", "No, I don't. I don't have a house..." **Beep, beep, beep* the something had clearly disconnected the line. Laura had never seen anyone call 119 before let alone they get hung up on because of it.
City flying by both she and the strange man got off at the same stop, she hurried her way to work hardly thinking anything of it but stopped for a beat when she saw enforcement officers approaching. Her first thought was to plead innocence she wasn't doing anything wrong but most of the time they didn't care if you didn't have money to pay them away or the high class job to earn there respect they would find you guilty of something.
She worried for nothing though as the officers walked straight past her and approached the homeless man, "Sir, I'm charging you with mis-use of emergency services. You do not have to say anything..."
The rest of the caution was cut off as the homeless man scuffled with the police officers who quickly subdued him.
She stopped wondering why they played the 119 ad's on the subway, "Any fucking excuse to charge us for summit" she muttered scurrying to work. |
[WP] Write from the perspective of a tank crew as their tank is hounded down, disabled, and eventually destroyed by enemy infantry. Make it a horror story. | "Contact, 800 meters. 3 o'clock." Golden said. The tank slowed as the gunner swiveled the turret bringing the enemy into view.
"Got an enemy LAV hiding behind that building. Looks like they are trying to run. Southwick load the 105." Johnson said keeping his eyes on the target. Southwick, the tanks munition loader, was finished loading the shell before Johnson could finish asking. "Firing!" Johnson said as he squeezed the trigger. The whole tank jolted as the round was expelled. The thin and crumbling wall did little to protect the enemy vehicle. The shell punched through exploding into the enemy vehicle. A fireball quickly enveloped the wreckage.
"Good effect on target. Sandburn, get us the hell out of here." Golden said. Sandburn was relieved at the command. They had been out in the desert picking off targets at a relatively safe distance, but the infantry had run into some heavy fighting and needed some support. Going into a town always made him nervous. Too easy to get picked off from rooftops.
"What's that 12 confirmed kills today?" Southwick said patting Johnson on the back. He loved the thrill of battle and their most recent assignments and been dreadfully devoid of combat. Johnson shook it off not really one to gloat. The tank had linked back up with what was left of the Humvee convoy as they egressed out.
The whole day struck Golden as funny. Months of insurgency and never before had they had such an easy day. It was almost too easy. The concussive blast of a massive IED only proved his point. The second Humvee was now a crater. Small arms peppered the outside of the tank as the ambushed came full swing. "Suppressive fire!" Golden commanded. Johnson was already turning to engage and Southwick had the next shell loaded.
It wasn't good at all. The crater had separated the tank from the rest of the convoy, they'd have to find and alternative route out. The tank was now alone amongst a swarm of enemy soldiers lapping at the chance of claiming an enemy tank. Sandburn continued on down the road only to find another crater to steep to traverse. It was now a guessing game on which way to go. He didn't have time to think. This is what his training was for. Johnson and Southwick kept the main gun firing as well as the coaxial LMG shooting at anything that moved. Golden took control of the fifty cutting down brazen soldiers. The casings rattled on the tank like coins dumped on a metal table.
Sandburn turned around another corner only to find a dead end. "Cut through the building! Golden said in between bursts of his gun. They had no way of knowing who or what might be in the building, the could be demolishing someone's home and the people inside. They had no choice. They had to do it.
The other side of the building was no better. RPGs blistered by as they plowed out the building. Johnson turned and shelled the location. Debris and dust spewed everywhere as the shell impacted. They were almost out now. The tank was beginning to show the abuse it was taking. Smoldering and twisted metal where rockets had hit, a side armor panel was ripped clean off as they went through the house. They couldn't take much more. Just as they were about to get away a rocket smashed into the side of the tank. The fire extinguishing system roared to life as flames burst out inside the tank. Sandburn was knocked unconscious from the blast. The tank was dead in the water.
When Sandburn woke he knew he was in a bad place. The pounding of the main cannon from Johnson had ceased, the 50 had fallen to silence. The muffled sound of the militant crowd echoed in the chamber. "Status?" he asked his commander. Golden was propped up against the side clutching his arm. He coughed as he tried to respond.
"We're dead. they disabled the weapons, the sensors, and comms are down. We're dead." Johnson said dropping the fried radio. A mix of fear and frustration showed on his face. Southwick was aiming his sidearm at the hatch waiting for someone to get it open. The crowd outside began pounding on the tank perhaps trying to find a way in. It wouldn't matter. once they figured out they couldn't break in some explosive charges would finish them off. That was when Sandburn started to notice the floor getting hotter. They weren't going to blow them up. They were going to roast them. | "They're coming," whispered the commander,
Looking back at his brave and fearless men.
"We will fight them," spat the injured gunner,
Grunting as he bent to find his weapon.
The tank rocked and the driver, bleeding, squawked.
Smoke filled the small space, mixed with blood and sweat--
"Sir," screamed the driver, "my steering is locked!"
The commander stared, his eyes and death met.
"I can't feel my legs, sir!" cried the loader,
His uniform stained with freshly spilt blood.
"*Sir!* Sir, what do we *do?!*" cried the gunner,
Hunching as the tank rocked with a loud thud.
"We pray to our gods," wept the commander,
Gaze enraptured by the waiting reaper.
| |
[WP] Write from the perspective of a tank crew as their tank is hounded down, disabled, and eventually destroyed by enemy infantry. Make it a horror story. | Life through a gunscope is narrow.
Life in a tank is hot...dirty.
Four days ago we got separated from our column.
Four days ago we entered this damn dead end of a valley.
Three days ago we started losing the brakes.
Two days ago, the radiator sprung a leak.
Last night we ran out of shells for the main gun.
This morning both MGs ran dry.
Haven't eaten in days.
All our water is going to the tank.
This damned leaky tank.
We've been harassed by the dogs more than the damn Muj.
Can't step out to even piss in the radiator.
Lost the Loader to the beasts.
Lost the Commander to a sharpshooter.
Lost the Driver to himself.
Only Yuri went out screaming.
I won't go out screaming.
I still have my rifle.
I still have some ammo.
Won't go out screaming...
...screaming...
| "They're coming," whispered the commander,
Looking back at his brave and fearless men.
"We will fight them," spat the injured gunner,
Grunting as he bent to find his weapon.
The tank rocked and the driver, bleeding, squawked.
Smoke filled the small space, mixed with blood and sweat--
"Sir," screamed the driver, "my steering is locked!"
The commander stared, his eyes and death met.
"I can't feel my legs, sir!" cried the loader,
His uniform stained with freshly spilt blood.
"*Sir!* Sir, what do we *do?!*" cried the gunner,
Hunching as the tank rocked with a loud thud.
"We pray to our gods," wept the commander,
Gaze enraptured by the waiting reaper.
| |
[WP] Write from the perspective of a tank crew as their tank is hounded down, disabled, and eventually destroyed by enemy infantry. Make it a horror story. | "Contact, 800 meters. 3 o'clock." Golden said. The tank slowed as the gunner swiveled the turret bringing the enemy into view.
"Got an enemy LAV hiding behind that building. Looks like they are trying to run. Southwick load the 105." Johnson said keeping his eyes on the target. Southwick, the tanks munition loader, was finished loading the shell before Johnson could finish asking. "Firing!" Johnson said as he squeezed the trigger. The whole tank jolted as the round was expelled. The thin and crumbling wall did little to protect the enemy vehicle. The shell punched through exploding into the enemy vehicle. A fireball quickly enveloped the wreckage.
"Good effect on target. Sandburn, get us the hell out of here." Golden said. Sandburn was relieved at the command. They had been out in the desert picking off targets at a relatively safe distance, but the infantry had run into some heavy fighting and needed some support. Going into a town always made him nervous. Too easy to get picked off from rooftops.
"What's that 12 confirmed kills today?" Southwick said patting Johnson on the back. He loved the thrill of battle and their most recent assignments and been dreadfully devoid of combat. Johnson shook it off not really one to gloat. The tank had linked back up with what was left of the Humvee convoy as they egressed out.
The whole day struck Golden as funny. Months of insurgency and never before had they had such an easy day. It was almost too easy. The concussive blast of a massive IED only proved his point. The second Humvee was now a crater. Small arms peppered the outside of the tank as the ambushed came full swing. "Suppressive fire!" Golden commanded. Johnson was already turning to engage and Southwick had the next shell loaded.
It wasn't good at all. The crater had separated the tank from the rest of the convoy, they'd have to find and alternative route out. The tank was now alone amongst a swarm of enemy soldiers lapping at the chance of claiming an enemy tank. Sandburn continued on down the road only to find another crater to steep to traverse. It was now a guessing game on which way to go. He didn't have time to think. This is what his training was for. Johnson and Southwick kept the main gun firing as well as the coaxial LMG shooting at anything that moved. Golden took control of the fifty cutting down brazen soldiers. The casings rattled on the tank like coins dumped on a metal table.
Sandburn turned around another corner only to find a dead end. "Cut through the building! Golden said in between bursts of his gun. They had no way of knowing who or what might be in the building, the could be demolishing someone's home and the people inside. They had no choice. They had to do it.
The other side of the building was no better. RPGs blistered by as they plowed out the building. Johnson turned and shelled the location. Debris and dust spewed everywhere as the shell impacted. They were almost out now. The tank was beginning to show the abuse it was taking. Smoldering and twisted metal where rockets had hit, a side armor panel was ripped clean off as they went through the house. They couldn't take much more. Just as they were about to get away a rocket smashed into the side of the tank. The fire extinguishing system roared to life as flames burst out inside the tank. Sandburn was knocked unconscious from the blast. The tank was dead in the water.
When Sandburn woke he knew he was in a bad place. The pounding of the main cannon from Johnson had ceased, the 50 had fallen to silence. The muffled sound of the militant crowd echoed in the chamber. "Status?" he asked his commander. Golden was propped up against the side clutching his arm. He coughed as he tried to respond.
"We're dead. they disabled the weapons, the sensors, and comms are down. We're dead." Johnson said dropping the fried radio. A mix of fear and frustration showed on his face. Southwick was aiming his sidearm at the hatch waiting for someone to get it open. The crowd outside began pounding on the tank perhaps trying to find a way in. It wouldn't matter. once they figured out they couldn't break in some explosive charges would finish them off. That was when Sandburn started to notice the floor getting hotter. They weren't going to blow them up. They were going to roast them. | "Fuck this! We shouldn't have taken this route dammit!" I exclaimed as me, machine gunner Johnny, driver Eric slowly and painfully navigated through the narrow dirt path in this shithole of a dense jungle. We had to cross this path of jungle and rendezvous with the other guys. Instead of crossing the trenches East of the jungle, we decided to go through the jungle to be more camouflaged. Little did we know, this pretext of "camouflaging" led to something far more worse.
We still had an estimate of half a kilometre to go, so we decided to relax a bit, having some small talk among ourselves. We walked about many things, women, love, and the like. We three had
been assigned to our tank a few months ago, and throughout the campaign, we bonded, and we were like blood brothers. We even thought about having some beers after this shit storm was over.
In the midst of our chatter, we heard a loud clink of our metal shell which broke off our chatter. I immediately took my binoculars and scouted the surrounding through a tiny slit in the front. Strangely, I saw nothing, so we suspected a sniper. Johnny decided to go to his trusty perforating machine and shoot around, trying to nail the sniper.
"How's it going John?" I screamed up, amidst the sound of bullets flying everywhere. Suddenly, the bullets stopped. Just as I was about to climb up to check, a dead John slid down the ladder. He looked awful. His face had been split into 2. Me and Eric looked at each other, shocked beyond words. Then it dawned on me, the sniper from earlier shot off John's face.
Before we could even say anything, an orchestra of artillery noises enamated in the air. The real nightmare began. We could only move on helplessly as the salvo of artillery shells threatened to kill off what was left of us.
The force of the artillery shell could be clearly felt. Our tank felt like capsizing. A shell landed on our front and rocked us. Eric flew backward from the shock waves and smashed his head on the steel plate. He was unconscious and his head was bleeding. I could only sit down, cry and pray as the smoke and fire tried to devour our metal titan.
"H...h...help", Eric let out a whimper as he breathed his last breath before slumping against the tank wall. His head broke open when he flew backwards, and he died
of blood loss.
Being the only one left, I felt afraid and helpless. I decided to stay behind, afraid of the enemy gunning me down once I peek my head out of the entrance. Thus, I just sat on the cold hard floor, rather dying in my tank than getting shot by those bastards.
"Love you mom and dad. " I muttered as the flames reached the fuel tank.
| |
Standard deck being 52 cards of four suits. | [WP] When anyone is born, they are given a playing card from a standard deck, and it determines their place in society. | "What."
"The machine says what it says!"
"But this makes literally no sense!"
"Look, I don't decide thse things, the machine takes a baby's genes, gene expression, and socioeconomic status, then spits out a playing card to assign that baby to a rank in society. You know how it works-- this is elementary school stuff. I'm just a messenger."
"But there's no way this is possible! I've heard of the rare person getting a tarot card, but that just means they're destined to be some sort of charlatan, like a snake oil salesman, ponzi scheme creator, or famous politician. But this-- this is unprecedented!"
The harried hospital worker held up the card, the words "Winged Kuriboh" emblazoned on it. "Not quite. It's happened before. It means that your son is destined to be the king of games."
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
"But we don't want our child to die a virgin!" The parents wailed. | The gate lay in front of us. We could see the barbs on the top. We could feel the sharp prick in our fingers as we prepared to jump over. It took over two long weeks to get here and many more months of planning. The factory was just over that fence, and with it, the hope of destroying the records. Inside, everyone could be royalty. One had the potential to even be the Ace.
Ever since the 3 Bloody Hearts, as they now call them, we were inspired. Diamonds and Hearts have many connections between their societies. Many of my own friends were Hearts, and the only 5's that I knew (Other than my own Diamonds of course) were Hearts.
None of this attempt would have been possible without the 10. After I nearly lost my arm in a police raid, a doctor took pity on me and became a friend. Without her, we never would have been able to leave the valley.
So now, as we are about to enter the factory, wish us luck, whoever might find this. We have lived at the bottom of the deck too long, and whether or not we are successful, we hope to inspire others with our attempt. May you all dine like Kings tomorrow!
[Edit] Formatting |
Standard deck being 52 cards of four suits. | [WP] When anyone is born, they are given a playing card from a standard deck, and it determines their place in society. | I pulled my hand away from my stomach, and bright red blood dripped from my fingers. The tiny room reeked of it - blood and the scent of gunpowder. Spent bullet casings littered the floor, piled up around my legs. I'd fired so many bullets I had managed to jam the door into the janitor's closet with the bodies of the infected. Now it was time to finish this, once and for all. I checked the ammunition in the AR30, the nine in my belt, and took stock of my explosives. I was three corridors and a stairwell away from Central Lab B. From beyond my wall of corpses, I could hear the grinding of their teeth, the tearing of skin and bone as they devoured one another in absence of fresh prey. It was time to fight my way through the infected, make it to Central Lab, and finish it. If I made it, I could activate the purge protocols necessary to expunge all organic matter from the facility, taking with it the infection. If I bled out, if I ran out of ammo and the infected finished me, it was only a matter of time before they broke free and the rest of the world experienced this horror first hand.
Three of spades. That had been my card. They took my blood, they analyzed my DNA, they completed the psychological profiles on my parents, and then they assigned my card. I don't know why the system corresponded with playing cards; you would think dividing and sorting the entirety of Earth's population via cutting edge technology and hundreds of tests would warrant a more exotic nomenclature or fancier symbolism. They were able to take a look at you in the crib, run some tests, and determine with 99.98% statistical accuracy your full intellectual and physical potential. The least they could do is not hand you a jack of diamonds in the aftermath.
Jack of diamonds. If only. Three of spades had warranted me Environmental Services Class D. I grew up knowing, from the moment I could hold on to the memories I was forming, that I was going to be a janitor. The doctors, the computers, the tests, they'd all come to the same conclusion - complete and total lack of potential, suitable for basic manual labor only. I think school was the biggest joke of all - why did I need to know advanced math when I was going to be pushing a mop the rest of my life?
After I graduated, I enlisted as soon as I could. Anyone outside of Class E - non-contributing physical disability - could enlist, so I did. I don't know what I was hoping for. Maybe some part of me still dreamed that I could go into the military, impress someone, make general, escape my fate, but even the armed forces held faith with the system. Kings of spades only for general-ships, nothing higher than private first class for anyone under a 6.
I'd shown an aptitude for weapons work and combat drills, so they'd made me infantry. In three tours of Syria and a fourth in the Ukraine, I learned to be a soldier. I was good at being a soldier. One of the best in my unit. Even so, I'd listened as superiors reflected remorsefully, "Damn it, why couldn't you have been an 8 of spades? Maybe you could have made a good Gunnery Sergeant."
I always thought about how that was the silliest part of all of this. Wasn't that the flaw in the system, that it was obvious I could have done more than my three of spades would allow? How was this system so perfect, so infallible, if all my superiors thought I was more than my card?
After my fourth tour, and my honorable discharge, I accepted my profession assignment. Due to my service and security training, I'd been matched with a position inside the federal government, performing facilities and janitorial services in a laboratory where military doctors were developing non-lethal combat options for disabling enemy combatants. I probably had seen more and knew more about the facility than anyone else who worked there; my security clearance offered me access to almost every room in the building. Even doctors and generals have garbage cans that need emptying or private bathrooms that need tending to.
I had overheard enough conversations and seen enough errant scraps of paper in the garbage to learn some about Project Lullaby. I had gathered that it was a project where genetically-altered viruses were being used to attack certain parts of the brain which controlled aggression and burn those spots out completely. The idea was to pacify your enemy by removing their will to fight entirely. Just last week, I had seen two doctors coming out of commons, and I'd heard them talking about how "the project" - that was the only name they ever used for it outside of documents - was coming along well enough to consider human trials.
It was a military facility, which was how I'd armed myself about hell came calling. I don't know what part of the building it started in, how it began, or when it had unraveled, but I believe I had accessed the building lockdown in time to prevent a quarantine breach. I had seen a nurse perched on Dr. Swanson's big chest, digging his entrails out with her bare hands and shoving them in her mouth, stopping only to vomit them back up after she'd engorged herself to the point she could devour no more. Swanson liked to lift weights; I wondered if that was why he seemed to have some much to eat on his bones.
Seeing an inventory specialist stab another sanitation worker with a letter opener and gouge out his eyes was the only other clue I'd needed to realize, in a flash, that the shit? Yeah, it bypassed the fan and went right for the blender. I strong-armed my way beyond two doctors smashing each other into walls and furniture, bashing each other to death with their bare hands, and into the security office. I knew what I had to do. Whatever was happening, I needed to lock it down.
I had armed myself after that. Security was attached to military operations, and from operations I had access to an arsenal. I'd blown through quite a bit of it in the hours after I'd first locked down the laboratories. On my way through the halls, I'd found a lady doctor, and we'd spent the next little bit trying not to get eaten. I managed. She didn't. Before she'd died, she'd told me that the Lullaby virus had tested fine in lower primates, but something had gone terribly wrong in human testing. Test subjects were free, the virus was spreading. It had been heavy work getting her to put one foot in front of the other; she was in complete shock. In the end, her terror did her in. I felt a pang of guilt watching her die, unable to stop myself from thinking about how she'd been a king of diamonds, calling out to a three of spades to save her as all her diamond friends tore her body to pieces.
My luck ran out entering the atrium between A and B complexes. A little girl tagged my lower abdomen with a sharpened piece of metal and went teeth-first for the wound. A double tap had put down someone's daughter. As she stared at me in death, I wondered what card they'd given her when she'd been born.
I knew my time was done. I could feel the damage she had done to me, and it was deep. I tried what little I knew about battlefield medicine to patch the wound, but even with being able to slow the bleeding, I knew she'd torn me up inside. That was fine. Fighting for survival with the doctor, I'd realized along the way there was no way out. Someone had to enact the protocols. The building had a sort of doomsday device inside, an incendiary system meant to eradicate all organic lifeforms, microscopic or otherwise, in the event of a catastrophic event. Project Lullaby was Play-Dough Fun Factory compared to some of the shit the doctors in E Lab had their hands on. Someone had to sanitize the building. May as well be the janitor.
I stood, stabilizing myself with the rifle, using it as a crutch. It was time to tear down the wall of the dead and fight my way to Central B. I pulled a corpse, darting back from reaching hands that shot through and towards my throat.
As I primed a grenade, I wondered if my birth file said anything about something like this. I shook my head as I felt a small tug of self-pity - I didn't have the luxury of getting sad with the work waiting to be done. Still, tossing the semtex and ducking back from the blast, a piece of me couldn't help thinking about how even if I could leave a message, the fire I planned to unleash would burn away any note I could create to tell a world of jacks, queens, kings, and aces that they'd all been saved by a three of spades. | The gate lay in front of us. We could see the barbs on the top. We could feel the sharp prick in our fingers as we prepared to jump over. It took over two long weeks to get here and many more months of planning. The factory was just over that fence, and with it, the hope of destroying the records. Inside, everyone could be royalty. One had the potential to even be the Ace.
Ever since the 3 Bloody Hearts, as they now call them, we were inspired. Diamonds and Hearts have many connections between their societies. Many of my own friends were Hearts, and the only 5's that I knew (Other than my own Diamonds of course) were Hearts.
None of this attempt would have been possible without the 10. After I nearly lost my arm in a police raid, a doctor took pity on me and became a friend. Without her, we never would have been able to leave the valley.
So now, as we are about to enter the factory, wish us luck, whoever might find this. We have lived at the bottom of the deck too long, and whether or not we are successful, we hope to inspire others with our attempt. May you all dine like Kings tomorrow!
[Edit] Formatting |
Standard deck being 52 cards of four suits. | [WP] When anyone is born, they are given a playing card from a standard deck, and it determines their place in society. | He laid his cards on the table and smiled, taking another puff of his cigarette.
“Four of a Kind!” he yelled, smiling. The man tipped his cowboy hat and grinned at me, his yellow teeth showing. I could smell the beer on his breath from across the table, as well as whatever rotting teeth he must have had.
Everyone at the table looked at me. I was the last one to have not played my cards. Those who sat at the table were kings and queens. They were the richest of the rich, the best of the best. But like me, who had grown up in extreme poverty, the man across the table didn’t belong here either. We had both made our way into this game through our own ingenuity. We had intrigued the rich and powerful, so much so that we had convinced them to let us into the competition. After all, they had nothing to fear: Only a king or queen could beat a fellow royal.
I looked at my hand and my youth appeared before my eyes. There I was, butt naked and starving, my ribs showing through my skin, as my dad left us once and for all. He threw a deck of playing cards to me. The only thing I ever really owned growing up, the reason I was so good at poker. But this deck had 53 cards. And one of them stood out more than the others, craftily designed. It was the card I had been given at birth. And it was the card I held in my hands now, the one that would determine my fate.
I took a deep sigh as I slowly laid my cards on the table. I knew who my opponent was. He was a joker. The jokers were by far the rarest, and they made the best conmen. Kings and Queens believe themselves to rule the world, but the Jokers are even more powerful. None of them had noticed, too lazy to count the cards like a poor orphan learned to do so in order to win, and consequently they missed the fact that he had cheated. There was no way he could have had a four of a kind.
Shouts and gasps echoed from the table as the Joker saw my hand. His smile quickly disappeared. The man who had only minutes ago been boasting over how he got the scars on his face, especially the rather unsightly one near his eye, was now stunned silent.
I had won the game. And this was no ordinary game. This was a game for who controls the world, who becomes our next leader. My royal flush of hearts laid in front of them all. None of them had expected the poor orphan to win.
Because you see, my card, well it goes to the lowest lows and the highest highs. For they may be kings and queens, but we are the emperors of the world. And just like my card, I always have an Ace up my sleeve. | The gate lay in front of us. We could see the barbs on the top. We could feel the sharp prick in our fingers as we prepared to jump over. It took over two long weeks to get here and many more months of planning. The factory was just over that fence, and with it, the hope of destroying the records. Inside, everyone could be royalty. One had the potential to even be the Ace.
Ever since the 3 Bloody Hearts, as they now call them, we were inspired. Diamonds and Hearts have many connections between their societies. Many of my own friends were Hearts, and the only 5's that I knew (Other than my own Diamonds of course) were Hearts.
None of this attempt would have been possible without the 10. After I nearly lost my arm in a police raid, a doctor took pity on me and became a friend. Without her, we never would have been able to leave the valley.
So now, as we are about to enter the factory, wish us luck, whoever might find this. We have lived at the bottom of the deck too long, and whether or not we are successful, we hope to inspire others with our attempt. May you all dine like Kings tomorrow!
[Edit] Formatting |
Standard deck being 52 cards of four suits. | [WP] When anyone is born, they are given a playing card from a standard deck, and it determines their place in society. | I was a joker.
A wildcard. A mistake.
The decks the cards are chosen from are never supposed to have jokers... but sometimes they make a mistake.
Regardless, they had to follow the ancient rules. The jokers were always anything they wanted. I could be royalty, or I could be a peasant. Or I could lead a normal life like any other person... regardless of where I went, my life could never be normal.
People despised the jokers for getting a chance they never had. Even the Aces and kings were not contented with their lifestyle... the politics, sometimes it was just too much. and the 2's and 3's... well, they just wanted to have a roof and food.
They despised us for everything they weren't. We were above the law, above the loyalty, yet we were at the same time below the 2's.
And that's why I decided to head out to the wastes. For opportunity, to not have to live with the side glances and resentment.
Some of the other jokers I met with said there was a small town forming out in the wastes. One that was only Jokers.
To think! a town where anybody could be what they wanted to be... | The gate lay in front of us. We could see the barbs on the top. We could feel the sharp prick in our fingers as we prepared to jump over. It took over two long weeks to get here and many more months of planning. The factory was just over that fence, and with it, the hope of destroying the records. Inside, everyone could be royalty. One had the potential to even be the Ace.
Ever since the 3 Bloody Hearts, as they now call them, we were inspired. Diamonds and Hearts have many connections between their societies. Many of my own friends were Hearts, and the only 5's that I knew (Other than my own Diamonds of course) were Hearts.
None of this attempt would have been possible without the 10. After I nearly lost my arm in a police raid, a doctor took pity on me and became a friend. Without her, we never would have been able to leave the valley.
So now, as we are about to enter the factory, wish us luck, whoever might find this. We have lived at the bottom of the deck too long, and whether or not we are successful, we hope to inspire others with our attempt. May you all dine like Kings tomorrow!
[Edit] Formatting |
[WP] The NSA is out of money. Write their kickstarter page. | *Video opens with a nondescript 30-something man in business casual attire sitting at a computer*
Oh hey! I didn't see you there. And that's part of the problem. See, we here at the three letter agency are facing a budget shortfall. We're on the cusp of a disruptive breakthrough in [REDACTED](/s "reading all of your encrypted emails") but we need an extra bit of funding to bridge the gap. That's where you come in. While we can't officially tell you our name or what we do, be sure that our first priority is keeping you safe and not laughing at your drunk texts from the other night no matter how hilarious those were. We've decided to offer some unique and exciting perks for our backers that will only be available for this campaign.
-Black Hatter- At the 50$ level we will send you a black hat and t-shirt with no identifying marks.
-Freer Speech- For 100$ you get to send an anonymous insulting tweet to a politician of your choice.
-Canvas Print- For 500$ you will find a picture taken by drone in a place and at a time of our choosing on your doorstep!
-Incognito Mode- At the 5,000$ level we will clear your internet browsing history. "Wow, you logged onto the internet for the first time in 2015? How weird!"
-Early Bird 2016 Presidential Candidate Special (All Gone!)- For 9,999$ Get the -Tor User Plus- backer level for this special discounted price.
-Tor User Plus- At the 10,000$ level you get the -Incognito Mode- rewards and below AND we clear the secret caches as well!
-Alcatraz- For 100,000$ you get 1 get out of gitmo free card.^^Not ^^available ^^for ^^backers ^^currently ^^in ^^Gitmo
-Ghazi-Gate- At the 1,000,000$ level, you can leak someone else's dirty secret or skeleton in their closet.
We hope you're excited as we are to see what the future brings for our innovative operation. Your support will ensure the highest quality terrorist and drug user catching tools are available to law enforcement officials everywhere. | Remember your drunk Snapchats and texts? So do we. Click here to donate. | |
[WP] The dinner table falls silent; all eyes turn to you as your face turns bright red. | "Stop doing that! O my god! What is wrong with you?" My girlfriend's dad screamed in horror as he tried to duck out of the way.
"Sorry, I can't help it," I yelled back in defense as I continued.
"Yes you can! Oh my God, please stop it now!" He then began to throw up.
Along with him, everybody at the table started throwing up at the site of me having diarrhea all over my plate. I couldn't make it to the bathroom, so I just decided to stand up on my chair, pull down my pants, and shit all over my plate.
"You guys are making this a bigger deal than it actually is," I said as a continuous stream of watery poop flew out of my asshole splashing onto everything.
Everyone ran away screaming in horror. And there I stood, alone, cold, with poop still pumping out of my ass.
My phone went off. It was my mom. She sent me a text that read "how's dinner with your girlfriend going?" I then turned around and took a Snapchat of the vomit and diarrhea covered dinner table. I sent it to my mother with a caption reading "pretty well!"
| "Jeez guys it was just a fart." | |
[WP] The dinner table falls silent; all eyes turn to you as your face turns bright red. | "What?" I cry, defensively. "C'mon, we've all secretly done it!"
Mom locks eyes with me. "Nate, that's not even physically possible."
"Haaa, what? *Okay.*" I'm regretting opening my trap now. Forget it, forget, it forget it, just keep eating.
"Mommy, does Uncle Nate really do that?"
"Shush, honey," Lynn replies. She looks down at her plate, though not before giving me an intense death glare. I feel sweat start to pour down my back.
"He's fucking insane. I'm telling you." says Ed. Old bastard.
"Look, it was just a dumb joke. Forget it," I say. We all awkwardly comply, silently forcing down our Thanksgiving meal.
___
It's night now, and I'm pulling into the driveway. God, I really don't want to deal with him right now. Ugh. I wait a few minutes before getting through the front door. Shit, he's up. I cringe.
"Good evening, Nate!" cries Nate. "How was Thanksgiving?"
"Just- Just forget it, Nate," I tell him. He frowns, turns his attention back to the dishes. I nervously try to play it cool, picking at a scab.
"WOAH!"
Fuck. It's Fat Nate. Didn't see him.
"What the hell you doin'? That was gonna be a fine Nate! He was budding like a dream. I betcha had only a week before it developed into an egg. You knew that."
Nate looks back. "Nate.." he asks me, "is something wrong?"
"Nah, I mean, I don't want to talk about it right now."
"Well, fine. Say, would a blowjob cheer you up?"
I shrug. "Eh, couldn't hurt." | "Just can't save it for band can you son?" your father says looking at you with his fork halfway to his mouth, loaded with turkey.
Your younger brothers laughing is grating on your ears as you try to slouch further down into your seat. "He sure has a powerful trumpet" Grandma says to her husband. "That boy is going places" "Moom!" Even your mother is aghast. Grammys are not supposed to say things like that.
Everyone is laughing now. Probably not at you thankfully. Grandpa leans over to whisper in your ear. "You want to know what instrument we played back in my day boy?" He was not as quiet as he thought and Dad is almost falling out of his seat in fit of giggling. Mom looks shocked and Grandpas grin only grows broader.
"Boys will you behave!" Mom is angry now, well probably not mad just slightly disgusted. She has that same look on her face as when David came into the house in only a diaper trying to eat a slug. Only.. more angry instead of horrified. "Act your age old man." Her fork waves back and forth across the table like a judge in a courtroom where the defense is made of screaming toddlers. Man, do I hate holidays. | |
[WP] A permanent storm rages across a planet. The only inhabitants are nomads who constantly travel inside the eye of the storm. | “Night shift again? That’s the third this week.”
“Well, there aren’t too many of us who can drive this rig, and the storm’s not going to stop just because we’re tired.” Joseph had always liked driving anyway, and since he had been driving a truck since before he could drive—except for that brief stint after getting caught without a license—he was an obvious choice for the long nights behind the wheel.
“I always did like truckers you know, one saved me from a ticket once by driving next to another truck going the damn SPEED LIMIT until we’d passed the trap. I was furious at first, of course, who goes the speed limit anyway, but since then I’ve always trusted them.” Katie smiled brightly at Joseph as she fiddled with one of the dials to make sure coolant was running to the engines. “It’s about time to go dark, too, you won’t be able to see anything out there soon.”
Joseph put on the night vision goggles and switched them on as she turned off the lights in the cabin. “You know you can go to sleep if you want, I’ve done plenty of all-nighters, and when forty thousand people are my cargo, I make sure to keep a safety store of alertness.”
“Forty seven thousand actually,” she said as she hopped up on the dashboard beside him. “And boy those extra three thousand we found the other day makes it cramped back there, I think I’ll stay here where it’s nice and roomy.”
The cabin was large by trucker standards, with a huge glass dome that let Joseph see the eye of the storm more clearly. He kept one eye on the road—which at this point was just the grassy fields they used to stay within the eye—and the other he kept firmly on the center of that ring of life above him.
“You’re falling behind the center you know,” she said as she moved her legs to look upside down at the radar on the dash. “Careful.”
“I usually do, it helps me see where the storm is headed. If you’re in the center, you can only see if it’s changed direction when you start veering off the center, this way I can see it turning sooner and correct the course.”
“You can’t see that.”
“Oh but I can, I have excellent eyesight,” Joseph gave her a mock serious glance.
“Yeah, I believe you,” she said as she rolled her eyes.
But he wasn’t paying attention to her anymore. He was putting that excellent eyesight to use as he peered through the goggles at the edge of the eye. “What the hell is that?” He asked, more to himself than to anyone else.
Katie, seeing the serious look on his face, hopped off the dash and grabbed the binoculars. She flipped on the night mode and peered off toward where Joseph was looking.
“Is that…is that a break in the eye?” Joseph could hear the excitement in her voice. “Oh my god the storm is letting up! I’m going to wake everyone up,” she ran for the door.
“No,” Joseph yelled. “Let’s see what it is first, it could be nothing, a mirage, a trick of the eye.”
“It’s no trick, that’s a break in the storm! Come on, these people need some hope, there is nothing more uplifting than hope.”
“Yeah…” Joseph said quietly as he peered off into the distance. “But there is nothing more demoralizing than false hope.”
As he watched the gap in the clouds get larger he found himself starting to get a good helping of that hope Katie was talking about. But another second proved exactly how right he was about false hope.
“It’s not a break in the storm, it looks like…” he squinted even harder. “Another eye.”
As they watched, the clouds parted more and Katie could see that there was another horizon of clouds through the break. It was, indeed, another eye. Another storm colliding with theirs.
"I didn't think that could happen, two storms colliding like that," Joseph said as he winced when the lightning from the colliding clouds began, night vision goggles have disadvantages too.
“Wait, what is that? That light!” Katie’s excitement was back, and stronger. Joseph could see the light, but he was less excited than suspicious.
“It’s another convoy, doesn’t look like they’ve got night vision because that rig looks like time square.” As Joseph looked on, he saw that the deck of the convoy was covered with people, they were beating their chests, laughing. And pointing directly at them.
“What are they wearing? Are those…animal bones?” Katie’s voice was so quite that it cracked halfway through her sentence.
Joseph squinted again and held his gaze for a long time. “No, they’re not. Wake everybody up.”
| They call me diamond hunter.
I hunt for treasures. Every day. It’s my life.
I don’t look for gold or jewelry. They are worthless in our world.
I hunt for memories. I look for the ‘Old World’ in every ruin we pass. I look for photos, the real kind. Digital is useless. We have no electricity. It’s a great pleasure to see the faces of those who express the joys of freedom we’ll never know. I can only go there where the wind takes me. I’m a captive of the eye of the storm. It moves, and we move with it. The Old World is everywhere around us. But it has become unrecognizable.
The best part about being a treasure hunter is the find. I am so proud, when I discover something no one else has seen before. Everywhere we go, we only find destruction. It might seem terrible to you. But in fact, life has become a continuous treasure hunt. Everything is up for grabs. I don’t care for food, others take care of that. I am the best Memory Hunter out there.
Sometimes I find diaries. Those are my diamonds. In my ten years as a diamond hunter, I have found twenty-seven diaries. The best ones I keep for a longer time. I read them till stories of the Old World have soaked into my bones. For a while, the stories become a part of me. I live the Old World through memories of those who wrote the pages. We trade the memories on the ‘Memory Market’ that we organize once a week. But the best diaries, I keep. I have to be picky. Every ounce on my back, is one too many. Till now, I have kept one dairy permanently. It’s from a girl called Rosie. She had a dog. Balu. I’ve never seen a dog in real life. But to me, they are the best part of the Old World. Perhaps one day, under the ruins, Ill discover my own. That’s my dream.
| |
[WP] A permanent storm rages across a planet. The only inhabitants are nomads who constantly travel inside the eye of the storm. | “Night shift again? That’s the third this week.”
“Well, there aren’t too many of us who can drive this rig, and the storm’s not going to stop just because we’re tired.” Joseph had always liked driving anyway, and since he had been driving a truck since before he could drive—except for that brief stint after getting caught without a license—he was an obvious choice for the long nights behind the wheel.
“I always did like truckers you know, one saved me from a ticket once by driving next to another truck going the damn SPEED LIMIT until we’d passed the trap. I was furious at first, of course, who goes the speed limit anyway, but since then I’ve always trusted them.” Katie smiled brightly at Joseph as she fiddled with one of the dials to make sure coolant was running to the engines. “It’s about time to go dark, too, you won’t be able to see anything out there soon.”
Joseph put on the night vision goggles and switched them on as she turned off the lights in the cabin. “You know you can go to sleep if you want, I’ve done plenty of all-nighters, and when forty thousand people are my cargo, I make sure to keep a safety store of alertness.”
“Forty seven thousand actually,” she said as she hopped up on the dashboard beside him. “And boy those extra three thousand we found the other day makes it cramped back there, I think I’ll stay here where it’s nice and roomy.”
The cabin was large by trucker standards, with a huge glass dome that let Joseph see the eye of the storm more clearly. He kept one eye on the road—which at this point was just the grassy fields they used to stay within the eye—and the other he kept firmly on the center of that ring of life above him.
“You’re falling behind the center you know,” she said as she moved her legs to look upside down at the radar on the dash. “Careful.”
“I usually do, it helps me see where the storm is headed. If you’re in the center, you can only see if it’s changed direction when you start veering off the center, this way I can see it turning sooner and correct the course.”
“You can’t see that.”
“Oh but I can, I have excellent eyesight,” Joseph gave her a mock serious glance.
“Yeah, I believe you,” she said as she rolled her eyes.
But he wasn’t paying attention to her anymore. He was putting that excellent eyesight to use as he peered through the goggles at the edge of the eye. “What the hell is that?” He asked, more to himself than to anyone else.
Katie, seeing the serious look on his face, hopped off the dash and grabbed the binoculars. She flipped on the night mode and peered off toward where Joseph was looking.
“Is that…is that a break in the eye?” Joseph could hear the excitement in her voice. “Oh my god the storm is letting up! I’m going to wake everyone up,” she ran for the door.
“No,” Joseph yelled. “Let’s see what it is first, it could be nothing, a mirage, a trick of the eye.”
“It’s no trick, that’s a break in the storm! Come on, these people need some hope, there is nothing more uplifting than hope.”
“Yeah…” Joseph said quietly as he peered off into the distance. “But there is nothing more demoralizing than false hope.”
As he watched the gap in the clouds get larger he found himself starting to get a good helping of that hope Katie was talking about. But another second proved exactly how right he was about false hope.
“It’s not a break in the storm, it looks like…” he squinted even harder. “Another eye.”
As they watched, the clouds parted more and Katie could see that there was another horizon of clouds through the break. It was, indeed, another eye. Another storm colliding with theirs.
"I didn't think that could happen, two storms colliding like that," Joseph said as he winced when the lightning from the colliding clouds began, night vision goggles have disadvantages too.
“Wait, what is that? That light!” Katie’s excitement was back, and stronger. Joseph could see the light, but he was less excited than suspicious.
“It’s another convoy, doesn’t look like they’ve got night vision because that rig looks like time square.” As Joseph looked on, he saw that the deck of the convoy was covered with people, they were beating their chests, laughing. And pointing directly at them.
“What are they wearing? Are those…animal bones?” Katie’s voice was so quite that it cracked halfway through her sentence.
Joseph squinted again and held his gaze for a long time. “No, they’re not. Wake everybody up.”
| "Quit using your teeth," Job said as he tore the package of chips from Adam's hand. The boy looked up, hand still raised to his dusty face, and his mouth quivered. Would there be a smack to follow? When his uncle got angry from hunger it usually happened that way. But this time Job was too bothered to even hit the boy. Maybe too weak.
Job fumbled with the package for a moment before getting frustrated and kicking up some dust from the crumbling street they crouched on. Then he bit down hard on a corner of the package and pulled with a grunt. A few chips burst out and Adam scrambled to pick them up where they landed before Job could react. The man was too distracted by the open bag to notice though, and so they ate in peace.
"Can't you get that boy some food that didn't come off the ground?" They hadn't noticed the imposing figure of Mae standing above them, her meaty arms crossed in disdain, a rusty shotgun slung over one tattooed shoulder. Adam looked up to see who it was, then quickly turned away, suddenly self-conscious.
"The boy's eatin, ain't he?" Job didn't look Mae in the eye as he shoveled potato chips noisily into his mouth. Adam scrambled behind his uncle before stealing a glance at Mae from just over the man's shoulder. "I woulda got him some dessert but in case you forgot, we're kinda in a hurry," Job continued. He rubbed the inside of the package with two fingers before shoving them in his mouth.
Mae looked behind her, to where grey-haired Abe and the mute stood inspecting a truck. Then she unsnapped a leather satchel at her hip. Job took a sudden interest in her then, watching her hands with one eye while pretending to clean the salt from under his fingernails. Mae shot him a glance that caused him to snicker and turn away.
"Come on up boy, I got you something." Mae held something in her hand and waited for Adam to notice. The boy watched for a warning from his uncle, but after a moment with no reaction from the man, he scooted toward Mae, who waited patiently and smiled. Finally the boy stood and snatched something from Mae's hand. Then he crouched low and turned to his uncle.
"Now that's just for you, you hear? Don't let that bully have a crumb now." Adam looked from Mae to Job, clutching the gift to his chest. Job turned to the boy and gave him an expressionless look. Adam whispered, "Thank you." Then he stretched his hands out toward Job and slowly revealed what he was holding. Job looked to Mae and giggled. Then he grabbed what was in the boy's hands and tussled the kid's hair.
Mae sighed and shook her head. "Ya'll wanna look at this?" came Abe's voice from behind. "Got something here, I think."
Mae was the first to arrive at the truck, where Mute stood bent over a book that lay open on the hood. Job and Adam soon followed. "Can any of ya'll make sense of this?" Abe asked. He scratched his head under his baseball cap.
Mae leaned over the book as Mute turned the pages. Paragraphs and paragraphs of vaguely familiar but non-sensical words filled the page. "It don't make any sense," Mae said.
"That's cause there's no vowels," Job said, smacking his lips as he finished eating the gift Mae gave to Adam.
Mae rolled her eyes. "There's no what?"
"Vowels. There's no vowels in the words. A, E, I? And U." Adam stood on his toes and peeked over the hood. He stuck close to Job's side still, but the curious book made him forget his fear and hunger for the moment. "Surprised you din't know that one, Abe." Job couldn't stop himself from a jab at the older man. "Seein as you been around so long and all."
"I outlasted a lotta men a lot younger than you," Abe remarked. He slapped Mute on the back then and said, "What's the verdict? We keepin it?"
"What's the use," Mae asked. "We should just get going. It's probly somebody's homework from a hundred years ago."
"Mute thinks it's special," Abe said. He found a seat on an overturned gas pump a few feet away and started rubbing his legs.
Mute picked up the book with an urgent look on his face and turned the pages frantically. Finally he settled on one near the beginning and held the page to Mae's face. He pointed at a date in the corner. "May first. 2032," Mae read. "Okay," she said, raising an eyebrow.
"Yesterday," Adam said, barely above a whisper. The group looked down at him and waited silently for the boy to say more. "Today's May second," Adam said, emboldened by their interest. "Somebody wrote that yesterday."
"Somebody nearby," Abe said. The group turned around instinctively. Silently, they watched the myriad features that surrounded them, cloaked in the half-shadows of the near-dusk sun.
(to be continued?) | |
[WP] A permanent storm rages across a planet. The only inhabitants are nomads who constantly travel inside the eye of the storm. | “Night shift again? That’s the third this week.”
“Well, there aren’t too many of us who can drive this rig, and the storm’s not going to stop just because we’re tired.” Joseph had always liked driving anyway, and since he had been driving a truck since before he could drive—except for that brief stint after getting caught without a license—he was an obvious choice for the long nights behind the wheel.
“I always did like truckers you know, one saved me from a ticket once by driving next to another truck going the damn SPEED LIMIT until we’d passed the trap. I was furious at first, of course, who goes the speed limit anyway, but since then I’ve always trusted them.” Katie smiled brightly at Joseph as she fiddled with one of the dials to make sure coolant was running to the engines. “It’s about time to go dark, too, you won’t be able to see anything out there soon.”
Joseph put on the night vision goggles and switched them on as she turned off the lights in the cabin. “You know you can go to sleep if you want, I’ve done plenty of all-nighters, and when forty thousand people are my cargo, I make sure to keep a safety store of alertness.”
“Forty seven thousand actually,” she said as she hopped up on the dashboard beside him. “And boy those extra three thousand we found the other day makes it cramped back there, I think I’ll stay here where it’s nice and roomy.”
The cabin was large by trucker standards, with a huge glass dome that let Joseph see the eye of the storm more clearly. He kept one eye on the road—which at this point was just the grassy fields they used to stay within the eye—and the other he kept firmly on the center of that ring of life above him.
“You’re falling behind the center you know,” she said as she moved her legs to look upside down at the radar on the dash. “Careful.”
“I usually do, it helps me see where the storm is headed. If you’re in the center, you can only see if it’s changed direction when you start veering off the center, this way I can see it turning sooner and correct the course.”
“You can’t see that.”
“Oh but I can, I have excellent eyesight,” Joseph gave her a mock serious glance.
“Yeah, I believe you,” she said as she rolled her eyes.
But he wasn’t paying attention to her anymore. He was putting that excellent eyesight to use as he peered through the goggles at the edge of the eye. “What the hell is that?” He asked, more to himself than to anyone else.
Katie, seeing the serious look on his face, hopped off the dash and grabbed the binoculars. She flipped on the night mode and peered off toward where Joseph was looking.
“Is that…is that a break in the eye?” Joseph could hear the excitement in her voice. “Oh my god the storm is letting up! I’m going to wake everyone up,” she ran for the door.
“No,” Joseph yelled. “Let’s see what it is first, it could be nothing, a mirage, a trick of the eye.”
“It’s no trick, that’s a break in the storm! Come on, these people need some hope, there is nothing more uplifting than hope.”
“Yeah…” Joseph said quietly as he peered off into the distance. “But there is nothing more demoralizing than false hope.”
As he watched the gap in the clouds get larger he found himself starting to get a good helping of that hope Katie was talking about. But another second proved exactly how right he was about false hope.
“It’s not a break in the storm, it looks like…” he squinted even harder. “Another eye.”
As they watched, the clouds parted more and Katie could see that there was another horizon of clouds through the break. It was, indeed, another eye. Another storm colliding with theirs.
"I didn't think that could happen, two storms colliding like that," Joseph said as he winced when the lightning from the colliding clouds began, night vision goggles have disadvantages too.
“Wait, what is that? That light!” Katie’s excitement was back, and stronger. Joseph could see the light, but he was less excited than suspicious.
“It’s another convoy, doesn’t look like they’ve got night vision because that rig looks like time square.” As Joseph looked on, he saw that the deck of the convoy was covered with people, they were beating their chests, laughing. And pointing directly at them.
“What are they wearing? Are those…animal bones?” Katie’s voice was so quite that it cracked halfway through her sentence.
Joseph squinted again and held his gaze for a long time. “No, they’re not. Wake everybody up.”
| Malo was grazing by what was currently the front Border with was left of his clutch. They had fared pretty well: of a brood of eight, five had survived to reach adulthood. The food wasn't very inspiring today. Only white weed and rockslime had turned up in the night. Not that Malo was complaining: any day when the ground held underfoot was fine with him. He disliked swimming, though like all of his kind he was good at it. They weren't like the floaters. Those lucky bastards didn't have to entrust their fate to the ground. They only had to come down to eat every seventh day. They even birthed and raised their young in the between-space. Talk about being blessed!
Commotion was raised about a tenth of a length turnwise. Malo and the rest of the herd galloped toward it, to see if they could help. They arrived to witness a swooper attack. Swoopers were foul creatures. The preachers told that they were children of the Darkness, and Malo believed them. How else could any living thing disappear beyond the Borders into the Chaos and return? But unlikely as it was, here before his very eyes the creatures were appearing out of the Dark and swooping down on the walker herd. One swooper was big and strong enough to pick up a walker and carry him or her off, back across the Border into Darkness. Malo had lost two siblings to them.
Luckily, they had arrived in time: nobody had been carried of yet, and the attack was being repelled. Soon, the swoopers gave up and flew back. They would appear out of nothing again. For now though, the herd was save. This was turning out to be a pretty good day.
When Malo got back to the Trek, people were shouting at each other. Archid was getting everybody riled up, talking about his theories again. Half interested, Malo started walking close to the argument and listening in.
"How many time do I have to explain it?" Archid shouted. "It's so simple once you try to understand it. Just imagine the ground as a great plane, thousand upon thousands of lengths wide. Not moving! The ground lies completely still. It is the Borders that move over it. The Borders move!"
"Pathetic!" somebody replied. "Haven't you got eyes? Look at the Borders. Those sacred walls that hold back the Darkness, giving us a place to live. Of course they cannot move. They are far too great! And a plane thousands of lengths wide? The very idea is preposterous. The world is precisely one length in size. That is why we call it the length. Only a blind idiot would make such errors in judgement, and only a sacrilegious fool like you would put his trust in the ground. The ground is treachery given form! Every day it moves below our hooves, taking the old and infirm to their doom in the Chaos. We never know what the ground will do next: whether it will deliver steep upward paths, or turn to water and not resume solid form for days."
"Where you see upward paths, I see great ripples in the ground that the Borders simply happen to cross. Where you see the ground turning to water, I say to you that the ground has not changed. It is merely a puddle such as we have seen often enough, only of a much greater size. If we can keep track of the movements of the Borders, we can start to map the ground. Just imagine! We would begin to predict the ground, to foretell what each day will bring us."
Malo shook his head. Archid had been tutor to his clutch, many days ago. He liked him: he was the most intelligent walker Malo knew. But he had some strange notions about the shape of the world. Malo really couldn't understand where he got these ideas, when the world they lived in was so simple that they could see it in its entirety whenever the ground rippled underfoot. | |
[WP] A permanent storm rages across a planet. The only inhabitants are nomads who constantly travel inside the eye of the storm. | "Hunter. Hunter."
He didn't stir from his exhausted slumber.
"Hunter! You need to get up, the storm picked up speed while we were sleeping."
He desperately tried to wake his last friend. Too many times he'd been exactly where he was now, desperately trying to shake awake a companion who would never regain consciousness.
"Hunter, please. I can't do this alone."
The tone of desperation finally worked, as the second nomads eye lids flicked open with a start. The first nomad fell back into the sand with relief, all urgency forgotten as his greatest fear had, by some miracle, not been realised yet again.
"I thought that was it. I thought you were done."
"Hah, not today Jefri. The exhaustion doesn't claim me today."
"Thank the Storm," sighed Jefri as he pulled the smiling Hunter to his feet. "We need to pack and leave right now. I can see the Wall from here."
"But we only set up camp hours ago?" Hunter's smile disappeared.
"I know. It's getting faster every day it seems."
Hunter grunted a still-half-asleep acknowledgement and quickly went to rolling up his bed, before realising all of his things were covered in a dusty layer of sand. His bedroll, their water containers, the clothes they wore to protect their sensitive skin from the whipping sand; everything. Jefri wasn't kidding, if there was this much dust in the air then the Wall must be within hundreds of metres. They needed to move fast.
* * *
Moments later they were busting out of the hovel they'd found to camp in the previous night. Hunter's eyes grew wide as he saw the Wall not a mere 50 metres away.
"I wasn't lying Hunter, it caught us completely off-guard."
"We'll outrun it as we always have," Hunter reassured.
They started jogging because it was something they were more than used to. They had quite literally been running all their lives, today was just slightly more urgent than usual.
"My only question Jefri, is what we do when we've put the Wall back on the horizon where it should be," Hunter queried. His voice was even and unhurried despite their brisk pace.
"We do what we always do. The Storm will show us water when we need it, and uncover food for us when we need it, as it always has. We survive, like we always will."
Hunter bit his tongue. They weren't surviving. When he'd been born there had been an entire society of people just like them, surviving off the Storms bounties and living hard but happy lives. As the Storm had slowly got harsher and faster there numbers had dwindled, until only the most physically gifted nomads lived. And then even they started to drop off until it was just Jefri and Hunter.
***
***Writing more later, I just have to go at the moment, so I'm posting this before the thread gets too old. Hope you enjoy what little I have so far!***
| "Shit steve you just HAD to pick this planet, you dumb fuck!" Said jackson, the co captin
"its been 14 years jack! You cant keep blaming me for this!"
An expedition gone wrong left the entire crew of the gallery stranded on this bizzare planet. With careful planning, survival was possible in the eye of the storm. However, tiredness and hopelessness took its toll through the years, and now only the captian, and co captian are left.
"This ends now!" Yelled jackson. "You ruined our lives you cunt, you should have been the first to die!" He yelled has he grabbed steve by the neck.
"jackson we can survive!.please....."
"But I dont want to survive, and I wont let YOU survive" jackson said, calmly.
"the storm is waiting"
In a flash, jackson threw steve accross the barron land. Steve, being weakend throughout the years, was helplessly dragged into the storm by the winds.
"Die and see you in hell, cunt" murmured jackson as he threw himself after steve.
And so the crew of the gallery where no more. | |
[WP] A permanent storm rages across a planet. The only inhabitants are nomads who constantly travel inside the eye of the storm. | This is in two parts. I sort of got carried away.
Part 1:
A thick Ghanaian accent broke the four am air. "EVERYBODY UP, **NOW**." My eyes sprung open. I was a light sleeper. We all were, for precisely this reason.
The clanging of metal, pick-up truck doors opening and closing and trailers being hitched, increased as people sprung into action. There was no hesitation in anyone's movements or anyone's voices. My truck was ready to go as it always was. The storm had stabilised for six months now, passively encircling us, but I did not let a second pass where I wasn't ready to leap into my truck and move on.
"BOKO!" I yelled our meteorologist's name. My voice carried across the sounds of metal and wind in the air, across the convoy, to him. In only a moment we were in front of each other, words spilling out between heavy lungfuls of air, trying to attain some clarity on the situation.
"Boko, what's going on, how long do we have?"
"The storm just stirred up again. We have four hours before the winds get too rough for a safe journey." I took stock of the situation, my surroundings, the hundred-or-so large group that we called a family. Sometimes, on quiet nights, when someone's mood was low, they might whisper the other name for ourselves. Two words with such momentum you had to gather strength after hearing them. *The Lonely*. We were the only people we knew still existed. There may be other storms out there, with other nomads in other eyes, but this was all we knew.
"Isaac," Boko's voice was grounding, and as I looked at him, he gave me a look that I'd call dedication and headed towards Aime's truck. I called to him.
"Tell Aime I will bring up the rear, like last time. I need to see my daughter." A pause, a nod, and he continued walking to the truck at the other end of the convoy.
I put one foot in front of the other, crunching on dry grass, until I returned to my truck. A small two footed thump was heard. My far-too-mature-for-seven-year's-old daughter, Casey. She *always* made a visit from her mother's truck whenever we were about to leave. I think she knew moving, could at any point, mean a goodbye that you never got to say.
I grinned, picked her up and swung her around. "How you feelin' little one?"
She shot me a dead-pan look "Just breezy Dad." We laughed. Her humour was warming, the kind you share with old friends.
"Okay, there isn't much time to chat, we're moving as soon as we can. But I want to show you something." I pointed to the distance. Nowhere specific; anywhere beyond eight miles and it was all the same thing. "You see that wall of grey?" She gave me a hum of acknowledgement, "That wall of grey is the storm." There'd never been a good time to show her before now. But now was a good time, made evident by her mouth slightly agape.
"That's the storm?" The inquisition in her voice reminded me of how young she was. How she was the reason, above all else, I kept this family safe. "That's the thing we live inside of, and in fear of?" The gravity of her words reminded me of how young she wasn't. "Yup. That's the reason we keep moving. The only safe place now is inside the eye of this storm."
The wind was getting louder. Far from deafening but loud enough to remind us of how tentative our lives were. The convoy's collective breaths got shorter, and faster. Fear, anticipation, nerves, call it what you will, was rife among us. I sent Casey on her way, back to her mother's truck, and surveyed the group. Engines on, fuel cells charged, inventories packed, the convoy's collective foot was hovering on the accelerator, ready to move on as soon as need be.
Aime approached my truck. You could see in her stride why she was the captain, why we entrusted our lives in her hands. "How are you feeling?" She asked.
"Nervous. Ready. Four hours is leaving it tight. I prefer to move with as much wiggle room as possible. In case of any emergencies."
"We all prefer it, but Boko gave us as much warning as he could." I shrugged in agreement. It wasn't the leeway time which most had me worried.
Aime extended her hand, looked me in the eyes and said "Goodbye."
"Do you always have to say that?" She could probably see pain of hearing that in my face.
"I always say it, to whichever of my command takes the rear. I don't want to ever lose anyone that I never got to say one final nice word to."
"Goodbye is not a nice word." She chuckled. She raised her eyebrows and I shook her hand. "This isn't goodbye, just au revoir."
"I hope so," She said. She strode off to the front of the convoy.
Engines revved. Wheels spun. Dust and dirt were displaced. And so were we.
------
We'd been on the move for 86 hours. We we're steadily making our way more inland, which was at least some comfort, we weren't as ready as we should be to travel over water. Sleep was probably creeping upon some of the convoy, but between caffeine and the fear of death in my rear view mirror, sleep was not my concern.
The buzz of the convoy radio came on over the sounds over 80 trucks rattling along. Boko's voice was soothing. Anyone's voice would have been soothing, I had been alone in this truck for 86 hours and not spoken to anyone in 8. "2 degrees east." The radio buzz again as the message finished. God I was disappointed that he was a man of few words.
The sound and sight of 79 other trucks was at least poetic enough that I had some entertainment. That and jazz music.
----
The radio buzz and no hesitation. Aime's urgent voice. "Everyone in a row, two trucks wide, **now**!".
Everyone hastily filed into place. In the distance I saw why. A bridge, only just wide enough for two trucks. The trucks ahead of me were dangerously close to each other. And the edges of the bridge. At a reckless speed, we were on the literal and metaphorical edge. But we had no choice. There was no pause. No change of course. There was only forward, and the chance of survival.
The chance of survival. And unfortunately, the truck ahead of me was playing with that chance. Their right wheels were daringly close to the edge of the bridge. Probably in an effort to put more distance between them and the truck to their left. Rocks began to crumble from the edges of the bridge. They were clinging onto survival by a rapidly dwindling thread.
I hit my radio.
They had seconds before they either pulled left or fell right.
"Truck 72 PULL LEFT!".
I could almost feel the fire they were playing with.
"PULL LEFT!"
They couldn't keep this up.
"Do you not hear me, FUCKING PULL LEFT!"
They were going to go over.
"GOD DAMN IT, PU-"
The rest of my sentence was lost to an explosion of metal below me. I took one breath to let the realisation sink in. Then I focused forward and pushed on. Two breaths to mourn them and someone would be mourning me. | "Shit steve you just HAD to pick this planet, you dumb fuck!" Said jackson, the co captin
"its been 14 years jack! You cant keep blaming me for this!"
An expedition gone wrong left the entire crew of the gallery stranded on this bizzare planet. With careful planning, survival was possible in the eye of the storm. However, tiredness and hopelessness took its toll through the years, and now only the captian, and co captian are left.
"This ends now!" Yelled jackson. "You ruined our lives you cunt, you should have been the first to die!" He yelled has he grabbed steve by the neck.
"jackson we can survive!.please....."
"But I dont want to survive, and I wont let YOU survive" jackson said, calmly.
"the storm is waiting"
In a flash, jackson threw steve accross the barron land. Steve, being weakend throughout the years, was helplessly dragged into the storm by the winds.
"Die and see you in hell, cunt" murmured jackson as he threw himself after steve.
And so the crew of the gallery where no more. | |
[WP] A permanent storm rages across a planet. The only inhabitants are nomads who constantly travel inside the eye of the storm. | They say it was climate change, some say social disorder, all that matters is this is all that we know now. Remnants of times past lay scattered across the ground, piles of rubble they say stretched as high as the sky but alas the skies are safe from those dangers.
They left us not to many years after the Great Collapse, as fast as they could build ships, leaving us the poor to take the brunt of the God's punishments. I don't think they expected us to survive, let alone thrive.
They left every thing they thought they could do with out, including the scientists that got them there in the first place, the labor that built the ships. We all knew they'd be back after the storm had relented.
First we gathered what we could, the necessary materials, we made our home in what was once known as Switzerland and we begun construction deep underground. only going out for supplies every 2 years when the eye of the storm passed over us, the mountains served to quell the winds substantially.
The first blimp to take off into the air was like a thousand winds taken off the back, we could finally rest easy. We could have stayed in Switzerland but we couldn't resist our selves. We were a strong people that persevered for one reason. Our resolve was strong, and our will rock solid.
After a short while every one was loaded into our new homes, much like those that left us behind, but we would only skim the coast as they crossed the ocean. 60,000 Miles in the sky nothing was recognizable from up here. 15 ships in all, 5 for housing, 3 for growing food and 7 to be left as way points marking each prospective landing sites.
We drifted with the eye for 2 years before the first klaxon wailed through the night, double, triple and quadruple checking made sure. They were coming back just as the Prophets of Wind had said so many years ago. T-Minus six months until they would be in the NEZ. Every thing was in on a closed system, noting made it out of our network, not a byte of data emanated from earth, there would be no signs of life.
It was quite easy as they passed by my blimp I didn't think twice before I flipped my switch enacting three generations worth of revenge in a foul flick of the finger. The message was emergency. Soon it was silent as I watched a small moons worth of metal start to spin laterally in the sky. Pods leaked, flew, then fell out of the sky like birds hit by a stray gust of frigged wind. Frozen solid on the out side, heart racing on the inside.
Just like the Prophets of Wind had predicted, they mighty would crawl back and fall to they're knees before The Meek, For that the Meek shall inherit the world. One down 4 more to go. | "Shit steve you just HAD to pick this planet, you dumb fuck!" Said jackson, the co captin
"its been 14 years jack! You cant keep blaming me for this!"
An expedition gone wrong left the entire crew of the gallery stranded on this bizzare planet. With careful planning, survival was possible in the eye of the storm. However, tiredness and hopelessness took its toll through the years, and now only the captian, and co captian are left.
"This ends now!" Yelled jackson. "You ruined our lives you cunt, you should have been the first to die!" He yelled has he grabbed steve by the neck.
"jackson we can survive!.please....."
"But I dont want to survive, and I wont let YOU survive" jackson said, calmly.
"the storm is waiting"
In a flash, jackson threw steve accross the barron land. Steve, being weakend throughout the years, was helplessly dragged into the storm by the winds.
"Die and see you in hell, cunt" murmured jackson as he threw himself after steve.
And so the crew of the gallery where no more. | |
[WP] A permanent storm rages across a planet. The only inhabitants are nomads who constantly travel inside the eye of the storm. | We are a long line of the stormriders, a few have ever seen us in the days of the first hope, when it seemed the storm was getting weaker. I was born during one of those days.
I grew up with stories about Susanne getting weaker, about the world beyond the eye, about settling down and rebuilding what was once a strong and proud nation. But she was an old beast and I didnt let myself get carried away by the stories, I knew her better than anyone, I spent my childhood playing on the edge of Susanne's eye pushing the limits, I wanted to see what she was capable of and believe me when I say it she is capable of anything. But she is not our enemy, she feeds us and keeps us warm and dry.
I'm an old man now, I still am a stormrider, one of the few left, and still Susanne feels like the only companion I had my whole life.
We are entering the years of a second hope it seems, it feels strange to live there, if you can call it that way, of course. And I dont know what to do with myself it seems Susanne is slowly dying. I should be celebrating but I can't, I know her she will probably pick herself up, we'll be traveling places anytime. But it seems different this time. A man came last night, from the north he says the storm is finally coming to an end, after a hundred years time.
They talk about new times, my people, about the time before the storm, but I dont feel I belong to those times, I am after all a true stormrider.
(First time posting, just be gentle, I feel I lost myself somewhere in the middle, but I dont want to change anything now.) | "Shit steve you just HAD to pick this planet, you dumb fuck!" Said jackson, the co captin
"its been 14 years jack! You cant keep blaming me for this!"
An expedition gone wrong left the entire crew of the gallery stranded on this bizzare planet. With careful planning, survival was possible in the eye of the storm. However, tiredness and hopelessness took its toll through the years, and now only the captian, and co captian are left.
"This ends now!" Yelled jackson. "You ruined our lives you cunt, you should have been the first to die!" He yelled has he grabbed steve by the neck.
"jackson we can survive!.please....."
"But I dont want to survive, and I wont let YOU survive" jackson said, calmly.
"the storm is waiting"
In a flash, jackson threw steve accross the barron land. Steve, being weakend throughout the years, was helplessly dragged into the storm by the winds.
"Die and see you in hell, cunt" murmured jackson as he threw himself after steve.
And so the crew of the gallery where no more. | |
[WP] A permanent storm rages across a planet. The only inhabitants are nomads who constantly travel inside the eye of the storm. | The tent moved lightly in the slight breeze. A young woman opened the entrance and ran inside. A boy was asleep under a woven blanket.
„Come quickly, Herok! The elders are announcing their decision! Wake up!“
Herok turned around slowly and drowsily. „All right I‘m coming. But I‘ve only been sleeping for an hour. I still have two more.“
„You‘ll get your sleep, just come!“
Herok put on his woolen pants and strutted out of the tent. His sister Hera went ahead of him.
All around him now was the familiar permanent slight breeze and sound of winds in the distance. He had long since gotten used to the sight of the grey stormy wall that enclosed them all. But the constant buzzing noise was always there, always present. The winds seemed unusually strong today as the wall was slightly closer than usual – albeit still half a kilometer away.
The dim light managed to illuminate enough of the large gathering of people in the near distance – presumably the two-hundred or so members of the community.
They ran to the crowd and sat down on the grey, barren ground. In front of them all was the Council: the ten wisest men around. One of them, an elderly man of about 80 years old, stood up and spoke.
„Dear people, praise be to the One who gives us life. We have convened the last few days regarding the urgent matter of nourishment for the cattle. The One has been angry with us for what‘s near three months now and we have to come to a solution. The decision is to head for The Cave at the nearest opportunity, which is according to our estimates within the next few days.“
A chatter went through the crowd. A man stood up, seemingly upset, but managing to restrain his voice. „But Holy one, none of us has ever been to The Cave and managed to return. It is a forbidden zone. This has been the will of our people for centuries since it was discovered.“
The council leader raised his already weak voice. „There is no life here. The cattle is perishing. Our fate, should we continue our ancient methods of living, will decide our fate for us, if we won‘t. We will face The Cave and the fate it offers, even if it will be our death.“
Another man stood up his seat and stood in front of the crowd. This was Kordor, the tribal leader. „The council has spoken. There will be no doubting this decision. Everyone is to be prepared to leave to The Cave at a moment‘s notice.“
Herok and Hera looked at each other, and then to their mother, who was sitting nearby. The mother stood up and walked to them. „Come now kids, it will be alright. We‘re just moving to a better place, that‘s all.“
The days pass. Kordor has received word that the entrance has been spotted at the edge of the storm. The storm‘s movement was a steady few metres per day and at this rate, the entrance should be visible only today. He asked several men to tell everyone to move. The council leader, Gardar, sat behind him in the large tent. Kordor turned around. „I dearly hope we are doing the right thing.“ Gardar was unfazed. „When god abandons us, we abandon him. There will be new blessings ahead of us.“
The Cave opening itself was a few dozen metres tall, but the cave itself was much smaller. Hera watched as the long line of people ahead of her disappeared into the ground, slowly but surely.
Once inside, a pitch-black darkness engulfed her. Soon after a torch was carried to them by one of the leader‘s men and she could see the wet rock which defined the interior of the cave. However no life or growth was to be seen anywhere. She didn‘t understand why they were going there and neither did Herok.
„Mom, how far are we gonna go inside?“ „Just a little bit longer honey. We have to find a place to stay.“
An hour passes, and then another. The cave walls seem not to be growing any larger, still being only few metres high and the path somewhat narrow.
Hera was scanning the wall to the left of her, counting the number of rocks who stuck out. Suddenly she stopped. The long line of people continued on right by her and the light went dimmer as the torch went ahead, but she could still glimpse something on the wall.
On it was a red colored drawing. It was too blurry to be recent and high enough that people in front of her could miss it. The drawing was of a human stick figure, with their arms up in the air, seemingly running away from something. She looked beneath the figure to find what it was running away from. It was a drawing of a worm, around ten times the length of the figure and twice as thick. And beneath it, the severed heads and limbs of other stick figures.
---
Thanks for reading! | "Shit steve you just HAD to pick this planet, you dumb fuck!" Said jackson, the co captin
"its been 14 years jack! You cant keep blaming me for this!"
An expedition gone wrong left the entire crew of the gallery stranded on this bizzare planet. With careful planning, survival was possible in the eye of the storm. However, tiredness and hopelessness took its toll through the years, and now only the captian, and co captian are left.
"This ends now!" Yelled jackson. "You ruined our lives you cunt, you should have been the first to die!" He yelled has he grabbed steve by the neck.
"jackson we can survive!.please....."
"But I dont want to survive, and I wont let YOU survive" jackson said, calmly.
"the storm is waiting"
In a flash, jackson threw steve accross the barron land. Steve, being weakend throughout the years, was helplessly dragged into the storm by the winds.
"Die and see you in hell, cunt" murmured jackson as he threw himself after steve.
And so the crew of the gallery where no more. | |
[WP] A permanent storm rages across a planet. The only inhabitants are nomads who constantly travel inside the eye of the storm. | Clouds heavy with rain rose threateningly to the night, blocking the beauty of the stars with their slow but endless journey, creeping up to the camp set amongst the thin trees of the forest. Blacker than the night sky the clouds were not seen, rather the shadow they cast gave away their position. Power untold hid beyond that invisible wall, no stories could be told of but they lived every day in the destruction of its wake. Beyond the storm was even more of a mystery, for everything they saw as tarnished by the indiscriminate force of their meteorological prison.
Silam was sat looking through the canopy at the mesmerizingly clear stars when he felt the almost imperceptible change in the air. It was time to move. They didn’t have long, not today.
He took the horn from his shoulder and blew as hard as he could, the long, deep sound breaking the silence of the night. The huge effort propelled the call along through the trees, waking his clan and expelling all the air from his lungs. Gasping to get his breath back Silam began walking, letting hid lungs fill with air before he began his run back.
Leena was already awake when the warning came, it was Silam’s first night as watchman on the eve of the Sprint and he’d never run this far back before, but she knew they could not wait for him if he was late. Worry however, only clouded the mind; she forced herself to push the thoughts to the back of her mind. “There’s no use worrying about events you cannot change”. She heard her mothers’ words now and knew making herself busy with packing would help take her mind from it.
She worked quick, first lighting the lean to she had just slept in to leave a beacon of smoke for Silam. Then she headed over to load her belongings on to Poe, her horse whom she had lovingly travelled with for three years now. Horses of the tribe so often died young, all they did was carry, and the long fast days of the summer always claimed the weak. Descending from the highlands had taken its toll on Poe, days of gravely mud in the mornings and the hot sun of the afternoon beating down on her relentlessly sapped strength and moral. Respite was just a day away now; by dark they should have reached banks of the river, just below the rapids. Today was the Sprint, the heat of the summer injecting so much energy into the storm that it doubled in speed and dumped enough rain to turn a desert into a swamp making land travel impossible, the only way to stay in the eye was to make it to a river. Tomorrow was the race to a point on the river Reppis, just below a major rapid system, the most difficult journey of the year.
Camp was just a short walk from the river but this close to the highlands it cut a deep gorge through the forest and rapids churned the water into an unwelcoming torrent. Heavy rains of the summer swelled the river transforming it into an inconsolable serpent nonetheless displaying only a hint of the power of the storm. Danger was always closest in the morning, the storm at it’s nearest, it was a time for haste without recklessness, and too many times a careless step had cost a life. Be that as it may lives were ultimately to the mercy of Mother Nature, and she was in fowl mood this morning.
Securing the boats between the communal horses was the last job before departure but Silam was still nowhere to be seen. Falor saw the Leenas pained face and knew what exactly what she was thinking.
“You can’t wait here Leena, if you must wait anywhere at least down in the gorge.” Not far from camp was the day’s biggest challenge, a steep descent halfway into the gorge, this led to a flat ledge that was followed for 9 miles until it gradually levelled out at the wide meanders at the opening to the great plains.
“I can’t leave him, I don’t want him to come back to an empty camp, for his last realisation to be that I abandoned him.”
Falor stared at her frowning. For a few seconds he remained silent, thinking through scenarios. Eventually he spoke, “You can’t stay, you’re skills are too valuable, I know it’s hard but you must go. In spite of that I will stay for two minutes after the caravan departs, you will take mine and Silams horses. Without having to lead them we will catch you I’m sure. Now please go.” Tears were rolling down Leenas face as she threw her arms around Falor. “Thank you so much.” She tried to say more but Falor pulled her off. “It’s ok now go, we really don’t have much time.”
With that she departed and Falor looked up at the storm, the clear sky of the eye was now a deep shade of blue, the caravan had left slightly early this year but the weather was worse and the gorge path would be treacherous.
Leena was towards at the back of the caravan which was now a queue at the start of the gorge path. She couldn’t take her eyes of the trail they had just come down, her heart pounded as more time went past with no sign of either Talor or Silam. She hoped the fact that Talor was still absent was evidence he was walking with Silam. As the great towering wall of cloud closed in she had to work harder to suppress her worries, when finally it was her turn to walking onto the gorge path with still no sign of Silam she felt sick. Solemly Leena began her descent into the gorge. Progress was slow, leading the horses carrying the boats was difficult and the rain this year had been exceptionally heavy. Eventually they made it to the ledge, now the pace picked up and the chances of seeing Silam again were vanishing fast. Silam and Talor would be travelling lighter but he will have been exhausted from running back form watch duty.
The going on the ledge was relatively easy despite the dreadful conditions caused by the storm the night before. It was light now but the Sun had not yet had time to dry the rock. Two miles after they had reached the ledge this year’s abnormal storm strength became obvious. Streams of mud ran of the top of the gorge, parts of the ledge had recently collapsed in landslides or rock falls. Quick progress was needed but some of the horses ahead had slowed. Up ahead a short but substantial waterfall was cascading onto the ledge causing the horses to hesitate. Suddenly there was a huge shout farther along the line of travellers.
“Rock fall!” A huge boulder had been dislodged by the fall. As it crashed into the ledge it took a huge chunk of the side. Three horses and a boat followed the boulder down. Where it had struck a crack appeared. The weakness was quickly exploited by the water and began to grow. Faced with imminent collapse of the path nomads left behind rushed forward knowing to be trapped be hind a rock fall would mean to die in the storm.
None of them made it. The crack propagated too quickly and a complete collapse of the ledge carried 6 people down into the raging torrent below.
Leena looked on stunned, her tribe split apart. She was now cut off, helpless. Realising what this meant she turned and ran. She had to go back as far as she could. She had to see if she could see Silam one last time, spend her last moments with the man she loved.
Leena was swift and agile on her feet but the conditions were becoming impossible. The wall of cloud was now looming up above her, intimidating and seemingly endless. She had never been this close to the edge of the eye before. Darkness now washed over her as the huge storm blocked the Sun. The rain was pounding down harder than she knew was possible. Leena carried on struggling forwards, the wind picking up. She didn’t want to stop, Silam could be just around the next corner, she still had hope, until the wind blew of balance and she tumbled into the cold rapids below.
(Wow, that took ages to write, about 4 hours I think :) This is my first one of these but I still want your harshest critique. As far as grammar and spelling goes though it's 3:30 am now and I'm tired so I may have missed a bit.
Great prompt though.
| "Shit steve you just HAD to pick this planet, you dumb fuck!" Said jackson, the co captin
"its been 14 years jack! You cant keep blaming me for this!"
An expedition gone wrong left the entire crew of the gallery stranded on this bizzare planet. With careful planning, survival was possible in the eye of the storm. However, tiredness and hopelessness took its toll through the years, and now only the captian, and co captian are left.
"This ends now!" Yelled jackson. "You ruined our lives you cunt, you should have been the first to die!" He yelled has he grabbed steve by the neck.
"jackson we can survive!.please....."
"But I dont want to survive, and I wont let YOU survive" jackson said, calmly.
"the storm is waiting"
In a flash, jackson threw steve accross the barron land. Steve, being weakend throughout the years, was helplessly dragged into the storm by the winds.
"Die and see you in hell, cunt" murmured jackson as he threw himself after steve.
And so the crew of the gallery where no more. | |
[WP] A permanent storm rages across a planet. The only inhabitants are nomads who constantly travel inside the eye of the storm. | The Wall is getting close – too close. I wake Samuel.
“Chief. Chief.”
He stirs, looks at me with bleary, irritated eyes. “What do you want?” His voice holds a mild accusation.
“The Wall’s only two miles away, at most. I think it’s picking up speed. We need to move.”
He rises – slowly, far too slowly. We don’t have time for this. “I’ll wake the others. The storm’s moving east.”
I go through the camp, waking the others. They’re not happy about it, but this is part of life now, this eternal flight. They rise, as they must.
Suddenly, I feel a hand on my shoulder. It’s Bill. “You told the Chief the storm’s going East?”
“Looks like it.”
“Shit!” He pulls out a map. It’s covered with a long, twisting line – the course we’ve taken pursuing the eye. “We’re here right now, right? Which puts the coast only about five miles east.”
My blood chills. “If it keeps moving east…”
“I knew this day would come. The storm couldn’t stay over land forever. I’ll tell the chief. Maybe we can find something that’ll float.”
I nod, knowing – as he surely does, as he must – that it’s futile. We’ve only ever been able to bring the bare necessities with us. Short of finding a ready-made boat at the shore, there’s no way we’ll be able to take to the sea.
The camp is finally in motion. The Wall encroaches. We move. | "Shit steve you just HAD to pick this planet, you dumb fuck!" Said jackson, the co captin
"its been 14 years jack! You cant keep blaming me for this!"
An expedition gone wrong left the entire crew of the gallery stranded on this bizzare planet. With careful planning, survival was possible in the eye of the storm. However, tiredness and hopelessness took its toll through the years, and now only the captian, and co captian are left.
"This ends now!" Yelled jackson. "You ruined our lives you cunt, you should have been the first to die!" He yelled has he grabbed steve by the neck.
"jackson we can survive!.please....."
"But I dont want to survive, and I wont let YOU survive" jackson said, calmly.
"the storm is waiting"
In a flash, jackson threw steve accross the barron land. Steve, being weakend throughout the years, was helplessly dragged into the storm by the winds.
"Die and see you in hell, cunt" murmured jackson as he threw himself after steve.
And so the crew of the gallery where no more. | |
[WP] A permanent storm rages across a planet. The only inhabitants are nomads who constantly travel inside the eye of the storm. | "Viktor, we have to move. Come on, get up."
The winds had picked up since I had gone to sleep. The air was still then, but now, it was whipping my hair around. The next time we found some scissors, I'd need to clip it, I made a mental note for that as I stood up. It was as dark as it always seemed to be nowadays, and the dust and dirt was starting to grate against my skin.
"How long was I asleep?" I asked, Nala was looking up at me as I slipped my dusty leather jacket over my arms and pulled it forwards. The cobwebs were starting to invade my mind, but I had to shake them free.
"About four hours, I couldn't sleep. The storm front started to approach after you fell asleep." She responded, there were forty other people lying down behind her, and the bikes were even beyond them.
"Ok. You should get some sleep when you're not on watch. If you don't get your rest, you will miss a step later on." I whispered to her. I looked around and kicked Brian awake. He popped up as I had, and looked around. I nodded to him, and he went on his way, waking everyone up.
The storm was approaching, slowly but steadily. It would be upon us in an hour if we didn't get moving. Luckily, the eye of the storm was about 2 hundred miles wide, and every fifty miles we rode, the storm would approach six miles, so we always needed to stop every 4 and a half hours of riding or so. I hated this damn storm, always had.
The first engine kicked to life, reminding me of what I needed to do. I grabbed my water bottle and my pack, throwing the pack over my shoulder, I walked to my bike, a long piped thing, with a huge double tank, and a bucket seat.
"How long do you reckon we'll be going like this, Vik?" Brian said to me, everyone was stirring now, some a little, some were up and moving. I thought about it for a second, but then I started formulating some kind of plan of what to say.
"Couldn't tell ya, man. We've been going for a couple of months. As near I can tell, we're gonna keep moving until we all start dropping dead, and we'll be gone and this fekkin' storm will just keep moving." I chuckled, taking a drink of my water.
Brian was ruminating on that, when suddenly a nasally voice of a young man rang out behind him. I turned around, and saw a man who's name fit him perfectly. Eugene had a jacket on that was far too big for him, a belt that was pulled out to it's max, and a pair of goggles with prescription sunglasses on underneath them. "Hey Viktor, does the other wall look like it's moving?"
I knew he was referring to the other wall of the storm, opposite of the one we were running from. It wasn't moving now, it always looked like it was at least starting to move, but now it was just sitting there, spinning, but sitting there nonetheless. It was peculiar. "No, I don't think it is."
"That's what I thought." Eugene said, kicking the dirt underneath him. I continued "But, that doesn't change the fact that we need to go that way, this side is still moving in on us." We climbed onto our bikes as the last of them roared to life. I lowered my goggles down and started moving along, building up speed until I was cruising at fifty miles and hour. The blessing and the curse of this whole thing was that now I had a lot of time to think, to work out the kinks of my knowledge, philosophy, or something. It also gave me time to ruminate on my mistakes and my life, before the storm.
Finally, we slowed to a stop, a mere mile from the wall that we were far from earlier in the day. Night was approaching, which was terrifying per usual, I always feared getting caught in a night storm or going in the wrong direction or something. Hopefully we'd be able to sleep here and get a move on in a couple of days, or hours. We set up camp as night started to approach.
"I hate all this running." Nala said, looking up at me. I was tired, tired from riding, tired of torturing myself a thousand times using the same demons who had tortured me for years. I needed to sleep. As I was expecting, the wall wasn't moving away, still spinning and whipping air up, but not moving away.
"I hate it too, trust me. But, we can't be eaten by that storm, we'd all die. And as far as I know, our little gang is the only thing that's left of humanity, and we can't let humanity die." I said, grunting. I took another drink from my bottle of water, let it sit in my mouth and then swallowed it. I looked up at the dark wall of the storm, then I noticed something. The wall was thinner looking than it always had been.
I looked down at Nala, then over at Brian. "Does the wall look... Thinner to you?"
"Yeah, kinda." Brian responded, hesitant. Nala didn't say anything, she just looked up at the wall and thought about it for a few minutes. It was during this silence when suddenly, the wall, or a section of it, disappeared. The section was a hundred feet wide and stretched up to the blackening sky. It was completely gone, replaced by an open area. I was bewildered by this, unaware of what I was watching. Suddenly, the wall closed again. "What... The fuck... Was that?" Brian said, one, maybe two words at a time.
"Couldn-" Nala said before she was interrupted by the wall opening up again, this time miles wide. I was stunned by this, and suddenly, I saw moment on the other side. Someone stood up, their face was shrouded by what looked like a turban. They nudged a person to his side, who stood up groggily, gripping what looked like... A broadsword?
More people stood up, until they stopped. It was a group, slightly smaller than ours, and armed in a similar fashion. They all looked tired and were wearing turbans. Behind them, there was a pack of camels? None of this was making any sense to me.
Suddenly, the one that stood up first started running at me. I thought he was trying to make it before the wall closed again, then it all started to click as he raised his weapon.
There were two storms, the eyes of which were meeting. His group of nomads was now meeting ours, and they were scared. I would be lying if I said my group wasn't, but we weren't ready to attack these folk.
Unless, of course, they attacked first... | "Shit steve you just HAD to pick this planet, you dumb fuck!" Said jackson, the co captin
"its been 14 years jack! You cant keep blaming me for this!"
An expedition gone wrong left the entire crew of the gallery stranded on this bizzare planet. With careful planning, survival was possible in the eye of the storm. However, tiredness and hopelessness took its toll through the years, and now only the captian, and co captian are left.
"This ends now!" Yelled jackson. "You ruined our lives you cunt, you should have been the first to die!" He yelled has he grabbed steve by the neck.
"jackson we can survive!.please....."
"But I dont want to survive, and I wont let YOU survive" jackson said, calmly.
"the storm is waiting"
In a flash, jackson threw steve accross the barron land. Steve, being weakend throughout the years, was helplessly dragged into the storm by the winds.
"Die and see you in hell, cunt" murmured jackson as he threw himself after steve.
And so the crew of the gallery where no more. | |
[WP] A permanent storm rages across a planet. The only inhabitants are nomads who constantly travel inside the eye of the storm. | For the last year, this is how we have lived. The slow, but ever-moving storm around us. For days, we would walk ceaselessly until we reached the leading edge of the eye. Then we would be able to make camp for a few weeks until the trailing edge caught up to us again.
When the government began their weather control program, the whole world was behind it. We looked forward to the moderate winters, the year round growing seasons, and the mountain skiing in July. The few people that saw this coming were written off as crackpots.
But it only took 10 years to prove the crackpots right. It started slowly, the sudden hurricanes popping up out of nowhere, the stray tornado that followed the planned rainstorms. That was how I'd lost my parents. The government said it was a fluke, but they became more frequent within months.
Eventually, the tornados disappeared but the hurricanes got stronger. Soon, any cities within a hundred miles of the coastlines were decimated. As people started moving inland, the riots and killings began. The looting and ration-hoarding was expected, but as the storms grew even stronger, moving further inland, people started trying to find any reprieve. A storm shelter, a leftover Cold War bunker, mountain caves. These were the only places you could be safe.
Then came the big storm. It started in the Atlantic and moved west, towards North America, destroying everything in its path. It moved so slowly, it took six months to cross the ocean. By the time it reached land, the eye was almost 250 miles across. The winds topped 150 miles an hour, ripping houses apart and tearing trees from the ground.
I was living in upstate New York when the front edge hit. Some of the neighbors had a storm shelter where we rode out the storm. We thought that it would dissipate when it hit land, but that wasn't the case. It just kept coming.
After two months underground, we heard the winds stop. After a couple more days of nothing, we risked going topside. The devastation was utter and complete. In the west, we could see the wall of clouds,maybe only twenty miles away, and we knew the storm had passed. Thank god! We scavenged what we could and brought it back to the shelter, our home base while we rebuilt.
We quickly erected some simple shelters from lumber scraps. We watched as the storm moved slowly westward until it seemed a distant memory. We quickly hit the lull after the storm. But, that too was short lived.
After a few weeks, the skies in the east began to darken once more. The winds slowly began to rise. We knew what was coming. The clear skies didn't mean the storm was over, we were merely in the middle of it. The eye of the storm had grown so large, and it was moving so slowly, that we were spared for weeks.
We knew we couldn't last through another storm, so we took a few days to pack what we could carry, and moved on. We were one of the lucky groups. We had no infirm, no elderly, nothing to slow us down. We caught up with, and passed, several groups that did. I hate to think of what happened when the storm overtook them.
This is how we've lived. A few weeks on the march, a few weeks of rest, always trying to stay ahead of the storm. As I write this note, we sit at the edge of the Pacific Ocean. The storm is catching up to us.
Some have decided to sail the ocean, building boats out of whatever scraps they can find. Not me. The eye may be calm, but the waves are still there and they will destroy the rickety crafts quickly. This is how I will die. I can hear the waves crashing below me, the jagged rocks offering me a quick demise. Perhaps I will see you in a better world. | "Shit steve you just HAD to pick this planet, you dumb fuck!" Said jackson, the co captin
"its been 14 years jack! You cant keep blaming me for this!"
An expedition gone wrong left the entire crew of the gallery stranded on this bizzare planet. With careful planning, survival was possible in the eye of the storm. However, tiredness and hopelessness took its toll through the years, and now only the captian, and co captian are left.
"This ends now!" Yelled jackson. "You ruined our lives you cunt, you should have been the first to die!" He yelled has he grabbed steve by the neck.
"jackson we can survive!.please....."
"But I dont want to survive, and I wont let YOU survive" jackson said, calmly.
"the storm is waiting"
In a flash, jackson threw steve accross the barron land. Steve, being weakend throughout the years, was helplessly dragged into the storm by the winds.
"Die and see you in hell, cunt" murmured jackson as he threw himself after steve.
And so the crew of the gallery where no more. |
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