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[WP] Satan and God both occasionally come to Earth in human form, Satan to corrupt souls, God to relax and observe his creation. One day, Satan walks into a pub, and sees God (in human form) sitting at the bar. God looks at Satan, slides a beer over to him, and indicates the empty stool to his left | Part One (part two may follow)
Satan slides smoothly onto the bar stood, letting out a sigh as he makes himself comfortable, unbuttoning his expensive looking jacket.
“It wasn’t hard to find you. A creature of habit and all that” he said.
God glanced across and said nothing, swirling the drink in front of him.
The barman walks over and gestures to Satan “What are you having?” Satan looks down at Gods glass.
“Certainly not a beer" he pushes the bottle further down the bar. "Whatever he is having and get him another, he looks like he needs it” pointing to his right.
“Two double Glenfiddichs coming right up” the barman turns and reaches for the bottle and two glasses.
“Scottish? Nice” Satan said surprised, giving a small chuckle. “Well at least you have good taste, quite fitting given the occasion”
Two glasses arrive on the bar with a clink. “There you go gents”
Satan hands three hundred dollar bills over the bar. “Get yourself a drink my good man” he grins.
Shocked the barman takes the cash smiling “Thank you very much sir”
“Think nothing of it” the dark prince replies as the man returns down the bar.
“He won’t get time to spend it you know” he hissed into his glass. The whisky slides down his throat with ease. God gave a sigh.
“You just couldn’t leave it, you had to say something. You had to come in here and give me a hard time”
Satan turns on his chair to face him, cradling his glass.
“So you’re really going to let it happen?” Tilting and lowering his head trying to make eye contact with God.
“Yep” came the cold, empty reply.
“Wow, that’s low, really low, even for you!” Satan’s face became more animated. He took another drink before continuing.
“Out of all your creations, apparently, one of your favourites but yet you’re doing nothing, not even lift a finger?”
“Aren’t you very astute” came the sharp answer. Satan leaned back pondering the response.
“I honestly don’t get you sometimes. You have looked over them for so long only to abandon them in their greatest moment of need. Do they even know?”
God glances up at the clock. “No, not yet, but they will soon.”
Satan turns back to the bar. “You know I have become very fond of them myself, they amuse me no ends; far more than the others you’ve conjured up over the years. Very ironic don’t you think” He emphasises ‘others’ with a hiss. “How many have been lost now, hmm? Dozens? Hundreds? I haven’t been counting since it began, what about…” God’s glass hits the counter.
“Enough!” a few heads turn before they slowely return to their conversations.
“I know what you’re doing; don’t you think this is hard enough for me? Their fate was sealed a long-time ago” he glared into Satan’s dark eyes.
“Hard? It’s your stupid rule. No serious interventions, remember?”
“It can’t be broken”
“Sealed fate? By another creation they aren’t even aware of?” Satan looked dumfounded. "Hardly fair".
The lights suddenly flicker, a faint rumble like thunder sounds in the distance a few seconds later causing the bottles on the wall to jingle ever so slightly. A few patrons stop their conversation to question what it was, some move towards the door.
“Times ticking, I mean I’d do something if I could but I don’t have the privilege, that’s your honour” he taps his designer watch and gives God a smirk and finishes his drink.
“I can’t”
Satan moves in close to God, face to face. “Then don’t break the rules, bend them, throw them a chance, give them an opportunity to do something” he whispers. God looks at him, the internal struggle clear to see. Another flicker of the lights is accompanied by a far stronger rumble, a glass breaks somewhere, a bottle falls of the shelf, neither pay attention. More people get up and run out of the bar into the street as the sounds and shakes continue.
Satan sits up and fixes his jacket. “You know I was the last one I would have expected to plead their case, maybe I like them more than I think” he chuckles to himself “They have a way of doing that to you, don’t they?” He looks around the bar. “Well I best be on my way, it was nice talking to” He gives a grin as God looks at him knowing Satan has done what he does best. The lighters flicker off returning a second later. God is now sitting alone in the bar.
He knocks back the last of his Whisky savouring the taste.
“Very well”
| He smiled at me. That same smile that I remembered from the old days. Nothing but warmth thinly veiling a vast ocean of rage that could spout out at a moments notice. At least he had calmed down quite a lot since the beginning. Having a kid really mellowed him out.
I sat down. Putting my hat on the bar next to me. "So, given who you are you have known since you created...everything that we would meet here. And since I literally cannot do anything to oppose you lets get this over with yes? What do you want." I hated playing this part. This great corruption in his design, but it was required.
"I'm bored" he said with a deep sigh. One that could only come from a being that had literally seen every possible birth and death of every possible thing in all of creation. "I've made everything, I even tried turning off my omnipotence for a while but...I have nothing to do anymore. I created every star in the universe, every species and planet the cosmos will ever know."
"And?" I asked, taking a sip of my drink, he always knew exactly what I wanted to order. He knew this would happen from the moment he came into being. Knowing everything has serious drawbacks. Not the least of which was that he could always find me to hash out his depression.
"And...I want to start over. Like I did with Noah, only maybe less incest this time. Create a new cosmos, a new universe. Maybe Ill make physics more flexible or something". This thought always cheered him up.
"Remember what the council said. You leave to a new universe this one dies. You expand too far, this one dies. You would literally be killing, fuck, its got to be even higher than trillions at this point, countless lives just because you're bored. And I can't keep playing your therapist, you kicked me out, we are supposed to be enemies."
"That's only what the small minded ones think. I can't stand them anymore, I thought letting them know me would be a good idea, the blood sacrifice, and everything would be okay..."
"Liar, you knew from the beginning it never would."
He sighed again. "Yeah I suppose. But I...I cant keep going like this. I need something new. Something I could never see coming."
"Careful what you wish for." I stand up. I know we are done talking just as he does. I pay the tab. I always pay the tab.
Once upon a time these visits from him were pretty infrequent. But what else can I do. A creator level being with depression cannot just be ignored and this one was turned loose to create his own world far too early, even the council knew that now. A failed experiment, one false move from him and everything in this reality would be gone in an instant.
What can I say I felt bad for all the sentient species He had made. So I stuck around. Of course the council offered me my own space but I just couldn't bring myself to abandon this one.
I patted him on the back, and stepped outside. I stared up into the night sky. Glad that this young species had yet to invent lights.
The stars were always my favorites of his. | |
[WP] Satan and God both occasionally come to Earth in human form, Satan to corrupt souls, God to relax and observe his creation. One day, Satan walks into a pub, and sees God (in human form) sitting at the bar. God looks at Satan, slides a beer over to him, and indicates the empty stool to his left | "Light beer" said the Creator when the bartender finally cast his attention towards the end of the bar.
"Double margarita, extra salt!" snapped the angel who was loved once, above all others.
The Almighty blew air gingerly on the head of his glass, taking a long pull once the foam had subsided. "How are things?"
"How are things? How are things? I mean really." Lucifer sucked a toothpick while considering his drink. "I've been at the DMV all day."
"One of your more inspired creations." God chuckled a little at the thought.
"Well, I'm glad my work meets with your approval. Have you put any thought into my transfer request?"
"Now Lou, we've been over this. You're doing good work down there. It's necessary."
"I don't need you to tell me it's necessary, I know it's necessary. I need a vacation. Or better yet- I want to come back. I'm tired of working down in the basement."
"I can give you some more help down there if you feel you need it?" God put his feet up on the low rail below the bar, wiggling his toes a little as he did so, seemingly delighted with the feel of his REI sandals.
"I don't need anymore help. I've got all the souls of the deceased marketing processionals. The basement is running smoothly. I fill Hell up almost as fast as I can empty it. The point is that I'm tired and.." The Accuser stopped himself, the apology having stalled out on his lips where it had formed and almost been given voice "and it's not fair." he finished weakly.
"It was your idea Lou." The Heavenly Father fished a few peanuts from the bowl along the counter, weighing them in his hand like he was trying to deduce the value of pocket change based solely upon its weight.
"That was a long time ago." The Light Bringer downed his drink in one go "and besides, you don't need me there anymore, not really. The basement almost runs itself by this point"
"We've been over this." God chewed thoughtfully, "We decided that we need someone to mind the operation down there."
"But it's been so long! I just want to come back now."
"Then who would we have to oversea your operation? Who would vet all these souls for entry into Heaven? We can't have those who are not ready gaining entry, it would cause all kinds of problems."
"Well, that guy from American Idol only has a few years left?"
God coughed from around a mouthful of beer.
"Good one Lou. Look, it's good to see you again, but we have been over this all before. Keep up the good work would you."
Satan said nothing, watching in silence as God paid for his beer, adjusted his fanny pack and then strolled out of the bar. Inwardly, he seethed. All the time and effort he had spent fostering reality television had been a long shot, but he wasn't prepared to have his hopes dashed just yet. Besides, there were other plans..there were other ways to find a soul dark enough, embittered enough and so utterly devoid of hope and joy that it would be fit to oversee the day to day operations in hell.
Perhaps it was time to check his other pet project for some likely candidates. The comment section of YouTube was bound to have something. | He smiled at me. That same smile that I remembered from the old days. Nothing but warmth thinly veiling a vast ocean of rage that could spout out at a moments notice. At least he had calmed down quite a lot since the beginning. Having a kid really mellowed him out.
I sat down. Putting my hat on the bar next to me. "So, given who you are you have known since you created...everything that we would meet here. And since I literally cannot do anything to oppose you lets get this over with yes? What do you want." I hated playing this part. This great corruption in his design, but it was required.
"I'm bored" he said with a deep sigh. One that could only come from a being that had literally seen every possible birth and death of every possible thing in all of creation. "I've made everything, I even tried turning off my omnipotence for a while but...I have nothing to do anymore. I created every star in the universe, every species and planet the cosmos will ever know."
"And?" I asked, taking a sip of my drink, he always knew exactly what I wanted to order. He knew this would happen from the moment he came into being. Knowing everything has serious drawbacks. Not the least of which was that he could always find me to hash out his depression.
"And...I want to start over. Like I did with Noah, only maybe less incest this time. Create a new cosmos, a new universe. Maybe Ill make physics more flexible or something". This thought always cheered him up.
"Remember what the council said. You leave to a new universe this one dies. You expand too far, this one dies. You would literally be killing, fuck, its got to be even higher than trillions at this point, countless lives just because you're bored. And I can't keep playing your therapist, you kicked me out, we are supposed to be enemies."
"That's only what the small minded ones think. I can't stand them anymore, I thought letting them know me would be a good idea, the blood sacrifice, and everything would be okay..."
"Liar, you knew from the beginning it never would."
He sighed again. "Yeah I suppose. But I...I cant keep going like this. I need something new. Something I could never see coming."
"Careful what you wish for." I stand up. I know we are done talking just as he does. I pay the tab. I always pay the tab.
Once upon a time these visits from him were pretty infrequent. But what else can I do. A creator level being with depression cannot just be ignored and this one was turned loose to create his own world far too early, even the council knew that now. A failed experiment, one false move from him and everything in this reality would be gone in an instant.
What can I say I felt bad for all the sentient species He had made. So I stuck around. Of course the council offered me my own space but I just couldn't bring myself to abandon this one.
I patted him on the back, and stepped outside. I stared up into the night sky. Glad that this young species had yet to invent lights.
The stars were always my favorites of his. | |
[WP] Satan and God both occasionally come to Earth in human form, Satan to corrupt souls, God to relax and observe his creation. One day, Satan walks into a pub, and sees God (in human form) sitting at the bar. God looks at Satan, slides a beer over to him, and indicates the empty stool to his left | The music was thumping, yet still it was barely heard above the din of conversation punctured occasionally by loud laughter. It was one of the more unusual places He'd decided to visit on his occasions, but one that He felt needed more attention. For too long the mortals had twisted His word on love and understanding, compassion and good will to all.
"So you honestly believe in all that afterlife stuff?" asked the young man sat next to him, his heart pure, sat practically on the lap of a larger man who he'd proudly proclaimed was his husband. Jonathan was his name, he'd grown up with a fairly privileged upbringing but had never lost the edge of charity, or the compassion to give unto those less able.
"I do."
"Pfft, not that we'll ever get in..." mumbled the other gentleman, Christopher (a name He was flattered to have so widespread). He too had the aura around him of a decent soul, despite the hardships he had experienced growing up and trying to be accepted for his homosexuality. His disapproving father and distant mother, the social pariah he had become in his formative years all laid out like a tapestry before Him.
"What makes you say that?". A pointed question, one he already knew the answer for without even the need for omniscience.
"Well, I've never heard anyone say 'Hey, it's cool to be gay according to....', well whatever holy text you want to list".
An accurate observation, one He could answer to without hesitation. "Words can be twisted. If you told the same story over the course of several thousand years, things would be lost in time and twisted with each new pen on the page. All men have their own purpose, all seek their own glory and control..."
"And then you punish them for it" came a rich, attractive voice from behind Him. He didn't turn on his stool as his company's eyes wandered to the male approaching from behind.
"Who's that?" muttered Johnathan.
"An old acquaintance. We was once very close" came His quiet reply.
"An ex then?" queried Christopher with a raised eyebrow.
"Not quite."
The voice sat beside him, forcing Him to turn his head in response. Of all of His creations, Lucifer had been the one that had hurt Him. Not through his own actions, but through the ones He had been forced to take. His golden shoulder length hair flowed beautifully down onto his broad shoulders, leading down into what any mortal would consider a magnificent form.
"Hello, I'm Luc, pleased to meet you." A genuine smile flashed across those perfect lips, disarming anyone in conversation with a single motion. "I see you've met my father? I never thought I'd see you in here, especially after our argument..."
Despite being almighty, there were things even He could not see. Lucifer had learned many years ago to operate beyond His vision, the anger generated from his exile alone enough to cast a veil of darkness around him.
"Your father? I have to admit I can see the resemblance" grinned Christopher, taking another gulp of his drink.
"Sadly." He replied, perhaps sounding a little sharper then he should have.
"'Sadly'? The only crime I ever committed was to ask to be loved equally to your other children, for which you cast me out." came the hurt response from Lucifer, manipulating the emotions of His company as easily as one would change clothes.
He could feel eyes shifting onto him, an awkward situation prompting a few curious bystanders.
"Now is -not- the time 'Luc'"
"It never was for you, was it? Always too busy with the likes of these..." Lucifer retorted once more, dramatically sweeping across the crowd with a slender hand. "Always loving them more, promising each of them happiness if only they would obey you".
Everything he was saying could so easily be taken out of context, an emotional struggle that could be played out in any place across the world. The cheating partner, the jealous ex, anything to play to a crowd and sow discord. That was Lucifer's calling.
"Johnathan, Christopher... thank you for a wonderful evening, I think it's time I depart". Standing up, his stool shunting backwards with the scrape of metal on a wooden floor He turned to face Lucifer. "Shall we talk outside?"
A wry smirk came from his opponents lips, following him outside into the cold night air as the two drinking companions looked on in half disgust. Rain pattered down on the concrete outside reflecting the neon lights of the bar in black puddles.
"Trying to love the lepers? Imagine the headlines, God caught in a gay-bar! You'd start a nuclear war in an instant" laughed Lucifer.
"I love all my children Lucifer, even you. What mortal man does with my word, my teachings, is entirely their own making."
"That's always been your problem, you never took control. Imagine if you'd reigned them in, turned the dark ages into light. You'd have them conquering the stars by now!"
"'Conquering' has always been the problem with you. You never saw the potential for growth, the benefit of free-will. You want to rule, to command..."
He let out a sad sigh, casting His eyes skyward. "Why are you even here?"
"The same reason you are, to mingle with the masses. Let's be honest, I'll end up dealing with far more of them than you will. The benefit of your so called 'free will'."
"All are born with a pure heart...." He began to reply.
"And look at what it cost you." came the abrupt interruption. "I remember when you would turn cities to ash at the slightest hint of heresy, and here you are making friends in a mini Sodom..."
"Lucifer, enough." He couldn't control the anger in his voice, the ground trembling under him as the bark of his voice carried through all around him, transcending all matter, shattering the glass of nearby cars with it's fury.
Once more came that grin, the slight chuckle that followed washed over Him with an icy dread.
"That's the God I know".
That, was the night Lucifer won.
| The air is tense with laughter and high spirits. People meet and greet as the music blares in the foreground. The air wreaks of perfume and cologn... and maybe just a dash of dignity lost. A crowd in the back shouts at a game of football at the front of the dive. A typical Saturday night in this particular dive. At the bar sits a lone woman, sipping on a margarita, quietly musing to herself. Her golden blond locks flow down to her back. Her wavy tight dress compliments her hourglass figure and a few silver bracelets adorn her wrists.
"Lucy! Been waiting for ya!," god smirks lifting up a glass to greet the devil.
"Evening Jen," reply's the devil in slightly aggravated tone.
The devil sits down and accepts Gods offer to drink. Conversations are limited when you're immortal, so they sit and observe the crowd.
God pipes up over the roar of the crowd cheering at the home teams touchdown.
"See that group over there? Sixteen of them."
"Yeah," the devil quickly interjects. "6 military police, 5 local fire fighters, a doctor, and 4 unemployed though one is a con man. Nothing too special about them. One of the MP's abuses his wife but it's kinda overselling it to call it abuse. He's just insecure. Likes to play cheap tricks to buy her into the marriage"
God laughs. "Abuse is still abuse Lucy. Doesn't matter what form it takes."
"You should listen to your own advice then"
"Hmmp. Maybe if you weren't so..."
God is cut off by a gentleman in his late twenties, dressed in a suave pin strip suit. Your usual black suit with red verticals yet very out of place at this small dive. His hand holds three shot glasses and a bottle of Fireball Whiskey.
"Ladies, could I interest you in a round of shots?" the man says with a sly grin on his face.
God answers almost immediately. "Why not! My friend and I would love to join you."
The devil thinks this is a great opportunity to buy in another soul to hell so an agreement is made.
"Could I get the pleasure of an introduction, ladies?" the man asks arrogantly.
The devil speaks first. "You should introduce yourself before asking someone else's name asshole."
The man laughs and reply's, "Names Sunny. And who might you be, my feisty brunette?"
The devil chuckles and begins to answer, "I'm Lucif..."
God talks over the devil, "Lucy. Her name is Lucy."
"You want to shut the fuck up and let me talk?"
"Calm down Lucy. Not something to get hot headed over."
"I can answer his question myself you overbearing prick"
"Woah, woah, woah, ladies. No need for the fighting. How about some shots?"
The man sets three shot glasses down on the the bar table. The sound of the crowd dulls any sounds of the shot glasses clanking together as he lines them up for visual effect. He looks up and Gods sterling emerald eyes and loses focus of what hers doing. He shakes the dazzling beauty off and remembers his goal. Two of the hottest women at the bar in his house, in his room, under his covers... you know the rest. Sunny pours the whiskey into the shot glasses and sets the half full bottle on the counter for quick access.
"Baby, I didn't get your name. Who might you be."
"Jen," God answers.
"Well Jen and Lucy. I hope you can handle this towns finest whiskey connoisseur!"
"Please, loser. You don't even look like you can hold your liquor," the devil says.
"Damn Lucy. Where'd you get them fangs?," Sunny says attonished
"I have parent issues, why else retard?"
God just smiles and takes up a shot glass. The Devil and Sunny both take theirs shortly after.
"Toast?" god asks Sunny who is eyeing up the brunette
Sunny looks back over to God and is just blown away by the beautiful image. It was as if light were radiating from the blonds figure alone. Urges of devotion and attraction wash over him like a high tide in spring.
Sunny says in a white-washed voice, "To friends and happiness, Jen."
The Devil gags slightly at his toast. The all down their Fireballs and prepare to line up a second toast. Sunny is completly enamored by the radiant blond sitting right in front of him. The devil impatiently pours a second round.
"Two can play at this game," the devil leans into Gods ear and whispers.
The Devil grips Sunny's tie and pulls him in close. "Don't fall for that overbearing blond. Brunettes are more fun, Sunny."
Sunny's attention is diverted from God, the beautiful blond with emerald eyes and an air of purity about her, to the Devil, the tempting pale brunette with lusty velvet eyes and succulent red lips.
The Devil begins handing out the three shots. The slender brunette wraps her arms and tangles them with Sunny's and looks over her shoulder to God who is holding the shot glass with both hands.
"Look the poor girl can't even hold her shot glass without looking like a nun in communion," the Devil remarks sarcastically.
"To what do we toast this time Sunny," the Devil asks.
Sunny looks deep into the Devil's eyes and a thought immediately comes to mind.
"To passion and earthly pleasures, Lucy"
After they all drink up their second shots and set them on the table Sunny's gaze is averted to God again. The devil scoffs and sits back down.
"Where do you two babes come from," Sunny asks.
"Heaven," God answers.
"Oh. So were gonna go for that then are we, Jen? Fine I'll take him," the Devil remarks.
"I figured you could be an angel" Sunny says to God. "You sure look the part. What about you Lucy. Where are you from."
The Devil smiles from ear to ear.
"You'll figure out soon enough, Sunny. Seems like you're not Jen's type."
| |
[WP] Satan and God both occasionally come to Earth in human form, Satan to corrupt souls, God to relax and observe his creation. One day, Satan walks into a pub, and sees God (in human form) sitting at the bar. God looks at Satan, slides a beer over to him, and indicates the empty stool to his left | "Welcome, Lou." God indicated the empty stool to his left.
A smile twitched the corner of Satan's lips. "Hey big guy," he responded. He moved instead to God's right, where a man sat slumped on the barstool, elbows resting on the bar.
"Excuse me, Dave, may I take this seat?" Satan asked politely. The man looked up, eyes narrowing. "Do I know you?" Their eyes met briefly and something sparked there.
"I, I... uh.... need to go to the bathroom." Dave almost fell in his haste to get up, and walked quickly and somewhat unsteadily to the men's room, giving a wide berth to a table with several police officers sitting around it. Satan slid onto the newly vacated stool, picked up the man's unfinished drink and sniffed at it. "Cheap rubbish," he said scornfully. He leaned over the bar and tipped the contents into the basin.
"I ordered you a beer," God said, shifting the bottle over to his right. Satan gave him a look, then turned to the barmaid. She set down the tray she was carrying and came over with a smile. "I'll have a Scotch," he said, inspecting the top shelf. "Glenlivet, what is that, 18 years old? My favourite age." His gaze took in the barmaid, lingering on the faint bruise on her cheek. "18 years old is just matured enough to be desirable, but still raw enough to be exciting."
The barmaid blushed and looked down. He reached out a finger and gently twitched her fringe aside to reveal an angry red weal, then turned and stared at the men's room door. After a moment, Dave emerged and started making his way back through the bar. "Now there's a nasty piece of work," Satan murmured.
He gave God another look, then deliberately stretched out his arm and knocked the beer bottle under Dave's feet. Dave staggered and fell, his head smacking into a table with a surprisingly loud clunk. As he slumped to the floor, the police officers rushed over. "It's Dave White!" one exclaimed. "We've been looking for him. Must be Christmas!" They dragged him to his feet and manhandled him towards the exit.
Satan and God looked at each other. "I'll go warm up a spot for him." Satan slid off his stool and followed the police out the door. God turned to the barmaid and winked. "See, my dear? I told you everything would work out for the best."
| The air is tense with laughter and high spirits. People meet and greet as the music blares in the foreground. The air wreaks of perfume and cologn... and maybe just a dash of dignity lost. A crowd in the back shouts at a game of football at the front of the dive. A typical Saturday night in this particular dive. At the bar sits a lone woman, sipping on a margarita, quietly musing to herself. Her golden blond locks flow down to her back. Her wavy tight dress compliments her hourglass figure and a few silver bracelets adorn her wrists.
"Lucy! Been waiting for ya!," god smirks lifting up a glass to greet the devil.
"Evening Jen," reply's the devil in slightly aggravated tone.
The devil sits down and accepts Gods offer to drink. Conversations are limited when you're immortal, so they sit and observe the crowd.
God pipes up over the roar of the crowd cheering at the home teams touchdown.
"See that group over there? Sixteen of them."
"Yeah," the devil quickly interjects. "6 military police, 5 local fire fighters, a doctor, and 4 unemployed though one is a con man. Nothing too special about them. One of the MP's abuses his wife but it's kinda overselling it to call it abuse. He's just insecure. Likes to play cheap tricks to buy her into the marriage"
God laughs. "Abuse is still abuse Lucy. Doesn't matter what form it takes."
"You should listen to your own advice then"
"Hmmp. Maybe if you weren't so..."
God is cut off by a gentleman in his late twenties, dressed in a suave pin strip suit. Your usual black suit with red verticals yet very out of place at this small dive. His hand holds three shot glasses and a bottle of Fireball Whiskey.
"Ladies, could I interest you in a round of shots?" the man says with a sly grin on his face.
God answers almost immediately. "Why not! My friend and I would love to join you."
The devil thinks this is a great opportunity to buy in another soul to hell so an agreement is made.
"Could I get the pleasure of an introduction, ladies?" the man asks arrogantly.
The devil speaks first. "You should introduce yourself before asking someone else's name asshole."
The man laughs and reply's, "Names Sunny. And who might you be, my feisty brunette?"
The devil chuckles and begins to answer, "I'm Lucif..."
God talks over the devil, "Lucy. Her name is Lucy."
"You want to shut the fuck up and let me talk?"
"Calm down Lucy. Not something to get hot headed over."
"I can answer his question myself you overbearing prick"
"Woah, woah, woah, ladies. No need for the fighting. How about some shots?"
The man sets three shot glasses down on the the bar table. The sound of the crowd dulls any sounds of the shot glasses clanking together as he lines them up for visual effect. He looks up and Gods sterling emerald eyes and loses focus of what hers doing. He shakes the dazzling beauty off and remembers his goal. Two of the hottest women at the bar in his house, in his room, under his covers... you know the rest. Sunny pours the whiskey into the shot glasses and sets the half full bottle on the counter for quick access.
"Baby, I didn't get your name. Who might you be."
"Jen," God answers.
"Well Jen and Lucy. I hope you can handle this towns finest whiskey connoisseur!"
"Please, loser. You don't even look like you can hold your liquor," the devil says.
"Damn Lucy. Where'd you get them fangs?," Sunny says attonished
"I have parent issues, why else retard?"
God just smiles and takes up a shot glass. The Devil and Sunny both take theirs shortly after.
"Toast?" god asks Sunny who is eyeing up the brunette
Sunny looks back over to God and is just blown away by the beautiful image. It was as if light were radiating from the blonds figure alone. Urges of devotion and attraction wash over him like a high tide in spring.
Sunny says in a white-washed voice, "To friends and happiness, Jen."
The Devil gags slightly at his toast. The all down their Fireballs and prepare to line up a second toast. Sunny is completly enamored by the radiant blond sitting right in front of him. The devil impatiently pours a second round.
"Two can play at this game," the devil leans into Gods ear and whispers.
The Devil grips Sunny's tie and pulls him in close. "Don't fall for that overbearing blond. Brunettes are more fun, Sunny."
Sunny's attention is diverted from God, the beautiful blond with emerald eyes and an air of purity about her, to the Devil, the tempting pale brunette with lusty velvet eyes and succulent red lips.
The Devil begins handing out the three shots. The slender brunette wraps her arms and tangles them with Sunny's and looks over her shoulder to God who is holding the shot glass with both hands.
"Look the poor girl can't even hold her shot glass without looking like a nun in communion," the Devil remarks sarcastically.
"To what do we toast this time Sunny," the Devil asks.
Sunny looks deep into the Devil's eyes and a thought immediately comes to mind.
"To passion and earthly pleasures, Lucy"
After they all drink up their second shots and set them on the table Sunny's gaze is averted to God again. The devil scoffs and sits back down.
"Where do you two babes come from," Sunny asks.
"Heaven," God answers.
"Oh. So were gonna go for that then are we, Jen? Fine I'll take him," the Devil remarks.
"I figured you could be an angel" Sunny says to God. "You sure look the part. What about you Lucy. Where are you from."
The Devil smiles from ear to ear.
"You'll figure out soon enough, Sunny. Seems like you're not Jen's type."
| |
[WP] Satan and God both occasionally come to Earth in human form, Satan to corrupt souls, God to relax and observe his creation. One day, Satan walks into a pub, and sees God (in human form) sitting at the bar. God looks at Satan, slides a beer over to him, and indicates the empty stool to his left | "Why don't we talk for a little bit Satan? It's been a while." God said as he motioned to the empty stool to the side of him. Satan looked at his old rival cautiously, an expression that one would give a childhood bully offering a hug, but accepted the offer silently.
"I have to give you credit, you do pull of your suits nicely...but I guess you have to look respectable when you're out corrupting souls." God gave a light laugh before finally turning to face Satan directly. "And I assume that you aren't here tonight to people watch."
Satan, who had started chugging his drink, raised his finger to silence his neighbor until he had finished. Wiping beer from his chin, he turned to face God as well. "Shouldn't you know that already? No reason to ask. Just like there is no reason to miss out on a little bit of fun." He began to eye an attractive woman over God's right shoulder, who met his gaze and smiled.
"It's not fun. It's damnation."
"Sure, but you've warned them haven't you? I'm just scraping the scum from the bottom. Really, you should be thanking me." Satan nodded his head to the woman, who giggled and excused herself to the bathroom. "Besides, why is it only damnation when I'm involved?"
"Because I can forgive, but once you pounce there is nothing I can do. Like that young woman you are eyeing." Satan's gaze snapped to God and he scowled. "She's a good person, I've watched her grow up. You know she is studying to be a veterinarian? She has a good heart and, without you getting involved, I can save her." God took a sip from his water and sighed.
"That is the sweetest thing I ever heard. Oh, savior, please forgive me for I know now the error of my ways!...Do you really think I care?" As the woman came back out of the bathroom, Satan stood up, but God quickly grabbed his wrist.
"Lucifer-" "Satan really sounds better. Plus less memories of Heaven attached to it." "Satan. Please. How about we make a bet. I will put three people in the position of good or evil, and If two pick good, I win. And if I win, you leave everyone alone tonight, and you never think about her again. If I lose-" "I get everyone in this bar. Deal!" Satan grabbed and vigorously shook God's hand and sat down. "Let's begin. I don't want to waste eternity in this bar."
God silently scanned the room before eyeing a man at the other end of the bar and an employee sweeping behind him. With a flick of his finger, God sent the man's wallet to the floor, right in front of the broom. The employee looked down and back at the oblivious drunk before picking up the wallet. Satan snickered and flicked his finger too, sending two hundred dollars in bills to the floor.
"Woops." He said, chuckling as God watched skeptically.
The employee gasped and picked up the money and looked between it and the wallet. Then he looked around to see if anyone was watching. Much to Satan's delight. The sweeper hesitated, but finally shook his head and placed the wallet, with the money, in front of the drinker.
"Well of course, there are too many witnesses. My turn." Satan said as he scanned the room. "Ah yes. The drunk seventeen year old with a fake ID." He said pointing to an intoxicated girl flirting with an older man. "Watch." He nodded his head, and overcome with a strange emotion, the girl pulled out her driver's license and laughed.
"See, of course I can drive myself home tomorrow!" She squealed. The man laughed and the two were getting up to leave when he realized her true age on the card. He had a look of shock as she picked it up and began to lead him outside. Satan muttered to God,"It's bad enough to take advantage of a drunk girl, but if she's underage, then that is just evil."
The man stopped for a moment, but the girl kissed him, and just as quickly he was moving again and they were out of the bar. "So we're tied old man. You want to just back down now?"
"No, I believe in my creation." God said shaking his head. "We have one more. In fact, it should be up to our friend here." Satan smiled, and in agreement with God, walked over to the woman who they were fighting over. "Hey sweetie, you look amazing tonight. What would you say about coming over to get to know each other better?" Satan gave a smile, and the woman blushed. "I'll give you a minute to decide." Satan winked and returned to his seat.
"Your turn." He muttered. God turned to face the woman, and in disguise as a man of age, stuttered to greet the woman. "Hello miss, I'm sorry to be an old bother, but I left my glasses and have no money for a cab. There is no way for me to get home. I could ask anyone, but I was wondering if you could help me?" God looked at her, and over God's shoulder Satan blew a kiss.
The woman looked at Satan meekly and shook her head. "Of course I can take you home. Come on, I was just about to leave anyways." She and God stood up and, leading him by the arm, the woman left the bar. God and Satan exchanged a quick glance, one end angry and the other relieved, before the man in the suit disappeared in a puff of smoke. | God saddles up to the bar and says "Wow, what a blessed day, I observed my creations painting, making beautiful music, and cleaning up a beach that was soiled by an oil spill to make it habitable by my animal creatures again...what did you do?"
Satan slams a shot of tequila, puts the shotglass down and says "I was having a few drinks with these two chicks and I spiked their margaritas with massive doses of laxative, locked them into their apartment with nothing but a plastic cup and a laptop with a webcam and told them they couldn't come out until they had done something which would both amuse and shock your so-called "creations"". | |
[WP] Satan and God both occasionally come to Earth in human form, Satan to corrupt souls, God to relax and observe his creation. One day, Satan walks into a pub, and sees God (in human form) sitting at the bar. God looks at Satan, slides a beer over to him, and indicates the empty stool to his left | For as long as humanity has been... well, humanity... people have gathered to enjoy the effects of ethanol. Amphorae of wine, left over from long-finished Roman parties, have fetched enormously high prices at modern auctions. Skeins of mead salvaged from Viking longhouses are similarly prized amongst connoisseurs. Egyptian beer, peculiarly, has not seen quite the same level of popularity, leading some to believe that the Egyptians were absolutely terrible at brewing. Regardless, evidence of these libations has been found in every ancient, lost, dead, or otherwise currently inactive civilization, with a handful of anthropologists even claiming that agriculture was first developed as a means of securing a steady flow of intoxicating beverages.
Booze, it could be said, is very historical.
With this fact in mind, it should come as no surprise that the creators of the human race - the one who first made them, and the one who made them what they are - have been given to sampling the so-called fruits of the world's labor. The Almighty, known also as The Great I Am (and a host of other silly names) prefers a black IPA served at room temperature, whereas the Prince of Darkness is partial to ice-cold lager. It was actually these differences in taste which caused the first conflict between the two, though as a drunken argument does not make for a particularly profound creation myth, both figures have long since agreed to keep from admitting to the truth.
If you find yourself wondering how these different varieties of beer could have possibly been available during the Earth's prehistory, simply console yourself by remembering that we are dealing with omnipotent (or nearly so) beings here. Lucifer was riding a motorcycle back when humanity was first debating the proper pronunciation of the word "Ook," and Jehovah's fondness for comic books is... best left unaddressed. The crux of this, in any case, is that the two divine icons have spent untold millenia honing their respective palettes, and have each arrived at their own firm decisions on the matter of which malt beverage is truly the best.
They are both wrong, but this is beside the point.
As such, it should be fairly predictable that these deities' conversations on humanity - which occur once a decade, or whenever they happen to feel like it - are often held at a small tavern in San Francisco, California. (The bar, like the beer, has always been there. The fact that humans first built it in 1963 is irrelevant.) Topics range from new inventions to world events, with Elohim showing an exceptional knowledge of American football and Beelzebub expressing, occasionally at great length, his fanatical devotion to "Star Trek" fandom. These exchanges sometimes last days, and those few patrons who happen to overhear them frequently exit the pub with a strange compulsion to either better the world or destroy it. (Who is responsible for which urge is a topic of mild contention.) Bartenders switch through their shifts as the debates continue on, while regulars and pop-ins pay very little attention to the two entities gesticulating at one another over glasses that never seem to need refilling.
Nobody - not even the celestial creatures themselves - ever seems to notice the slim figure in the corner booth, quietly playing Chess against himself. | God saddles up to the bar and says "Wow, what a blessed day, I observed my creations painting, making beautiful music, and cleaning up a beach that was soiled by an oil spill to make it habitable by my animal creatures again...what did you do?"
Satan slams a shot of tequila, puts the shotglass down and says "I was having a few drinks with these two chicks and I spiked their margaritas with massive doses of laxative, locked them into their apartment with nothing but a plastic cup and a laptop with a webcam and told them they couldn't come out until they had done something which would both amuse and shock your so-called "creations"". | |
[WP] Satan and God both occasionally come to Earth in human form, Satan to corrupt souls, God to relax and observe his creation. One day, Satan walks into a pub, and sees God (in human form) sitting at the bar. God looks at Satan, slides a beer over to him, and indicates the empty stool to his left | "Long day?" Satan asked, slipping into the seat and grabbing the beer that God had offered him, wasn't usual to see the big guy sitting at a bar, usually spent his time watching some sort of sunset.
"I don't work in days." God said, staring straight at the bartender and waving for another one, he was halfway through his glass, but he was taking sips often enough that it would be gone within the minute.
"You're dodging the question," Satan said, taking a sip of the beer, there was definitely something stronger mixed in there, "and you put something in my drink."
"I cut it with vodka."
"I think you cut the vodka with beer," Satan put down the glass and waved to the bartender, who was too busy talking to a little thing in a low cut top to notice him, he lowered his hand, "that's not like you big guy."
God sighed, another ungodlike thing that Satan crossed it off his list of things that worried him. Sure, he didn't spend much time around God anymore, mostly spoke through courts and papers, but at the same time he had spent literally infinite time with the man before the great war, he knew what kind of stuff God did when he was thinking of doing something drastic, "I don't know," the Lord began, "it's just good now."
"Come again?"
"Everything is working out, I don't need to intervene anymore," he shrugged and knocked back his drink right when the bartender brought his. Satan ordered a new drink, this time actually keeping the bar hands attention. "I mean, I tried being hands off back in the early nineties, and they almost destroyed each other twice."
"Interesting times at least," Satan eyed the beer mixed with vodka, seemed like it was going to be a long night, "you almost drowned me in paperwork with the first one, had to get the structure ready for the second."
"Yeah, but after that I only needed to step in for a little bit, go for a few years here and there, giving that one Russain guy the balls to call that the missiles were just a glitch, stuff like that."
The bartender brought Satan his drink, he tipped well, needed to feed his drinking problem. He was still on the job, "And?"
"And nothing, nothing since then. There are problems, but they are solving them now. They are working hard, together, it's-"
"A kick in the teeth?"
"Good," God said, taking a few sips of his beer before continuing, looking around the bar before he did, "this is good. There are places in the world where this is almost as sinful as it gets."
"Good for you?"
"Good for them," God took another sip of his drink, and then grabbed the beer he had slid over to Satan. The devil lifted his hands and surrendered the drink.
"I wash my hands of this business," he said in fluent Latin.
"Dude, that was my kid, too far."
"It's been two thousand years, I can crack jokes about it. He's fine up in heaven."
There was silence, the song changed, and then it changed again, "It's good for them, I'm not sure what it is for me."
"Proud?"
"I'm beyond proud, they are remarkable overall, they studied ethics, figured out everything that they could and should be, and then they kept learning and trying to become better. They don't let each other discriminate between skin colour anymore without being ostracized, do you know how long I thought that would take?"
"What about the Kim J-"
"A bad apple, but I'm supposed to be farming an orchard."
Satan rolled his eyes, he knew that God was omniscient, but he didn't need to take Satan out of the conversation, if he was going to vent, he should let the other person use their words.
"Sorry," God said, partly to prove the point that he could hear, "but you see where I'm coming from."
"Yeah," Satan didn't say the rest of it, it didn't need saying. He wasn't sure what to do either, what can you say when God has a crisis of identity?"
God stood up, waving his hand to drop money on the counter, he shoved his hands into his coat pockets and looked out the door, it was sunset somewhere in the world, and he planned to see it, "Wanna come with me?" God held out his hand.
"I'm going to try to convince someone in this bar to try something stupid," Satan took the beer with vodka that God had handed him at the beginning of the sit -down, "maybe something dangerous, I don't know."
"Good luck," God shrugged, walking towards the door, "don't be a stranger."
"I don't think I can."
"You're not wrong."
Satan watched the human god step out onto the street, only the disappear in a flash without anybody else noticing. He took a drink of the cut beer and grimaced as he did, looking around the bar for a victim, maybe if he could convince one of them to literally fuck with the devil it would be enough to impress the big guy.
Satan's phone buzzed and he looked down.
***Unknown number: It wouldn't, but good luck.***
If you enjoyed this story, come visit me over at /r/Jacksonwrites | God saddles up to the bar and says "Wow, what a blessed day, I observed my creations painting, making beautiful music, and cleaning up a beach that was soiled by an oil spill to make it habitable by my animal creatures again...what did you do?"
Satan slams a shot of tequila, puts the shotglass down and says "I was having a few drinks with these two chicks and I spiked their margaritas with massive doses of laxative, locked them into their apartment with nothing but a plastic cup and a laptop with a webcam and told them they couldn't come out until they had done something which would both amuse and shock your so-called "creations"". | |
[WP] Satan and God both occasionally come to Earth in human form, Satan to corrupt souls, God to relax and observe his creation. One day, Satan walks into a pub, and sees God (in human form) sitting at the bar. God looks at Satan, slides a beer over to him, and indicates the empty stool to his left | It must have been half-past midnight when I saw Him, looking comfortable on a stool and apparently engaged in a conversation with the very pretty dark-haired girl behind the bar. Only He could manage to look comfortable on one of those hard wooden stools—the picture of relaxation in a bar full of high school dropouts and failed runaway attempts. I could see all of that about them, the patrons of the bar. I could always see the worst in people, but He could always see the best. Which probably explained why He was explaining the finer points of the theory of abiogenisis to a girl who had put down her parents’ dog because she couldn’t afford to take care of it.
I strolled up to the bar, in my usual way. He knew I would be here, of course, He was only pretending to be surprised for the benefit of the girl behind the bar. He ordered me a beer, and indicated that I should sit, to His left, on an empty stool. The bar was packed, but of course the stool was vacant. I sat.
“What brings you here?” He asked me, again for the benefit of the barkeep. I shot her a glance and she wandered away, cleaning glasses at the far end of the bar.
“You know perfectly well what brings me here. It’s the same thing it always was.” I snipped back, watching the droplets of condensation form on my glass of beer. “You knew I would be here, why did you come here?”
He seemed surprised by my hostility—or at least, He did, until I looked closer and saw that He was still putting on his stupid show, for anyone who might be listening in. He appeared to be waiting for me to say something else, but I waited longer. He relented. “I wanted to check in with you. There are some things even I can’t know for sure.”
I scoffed at this. He was lying. I was at least 75% sure that He was lying. “Well, check away.” I finally responded, taking a sip of the beer he had gotten for me. I didn’t much like it. Beer wasn’t to my tastes.
He looked worried now. I wasn’t sure if He was worried about me, or about someone hearing what He was about to ask, but He did look worried. “I wanted to check in with you about… recent events. I wanted to make sure you knew what you were doing.”
I put the beer down. I didn’t look at Him. The droplets of condensation were racing each other down the glass and I couldn’t look at Him, but I couldn’t keep a straight face. A devilish smirk finally emerged, and I met His gaze.
“I haven’t done anything in years, old friend. Your children have long since rendered me obsolete.” | God saddles up to the bar and says "Wow, what a blessed day, I observed my creations painting, making beautiful music, and cleaning up a beach that was soiled by an oil spill to make it habitable by my animal creatures again...what did you do?"
Satan slams a shot of tequila, puts the shotglass down and says "I was having a few drinks with these two chicks and I spiked their margaritas with massive doses of laxative, locked them into their apartment with nothing but a plastic cup and a laptop with a webcam and told them they couldn't come out until they had done something which would both amuse and shock your so-called "creations"". | |
[WP] While cleaning up your school's computer science club room, you find an old computer from the 70's that's still running. There is a label on the computer that reads "Do NOT turn off: world will end" | Anyone could have, and _should have_ pressed the button.
This thing, was old. I mean, like, ancient.
It had piles of cables, billowing out of it, like some ancient giant poured a bowl of spagetti into the case. I followed a cable, and found a small hatch.
I frowned a bit. _Had this always been here?_
I try to open it, and... anticlimactically, it stayed shut. The hatch was probably as old as the computer, if not older. Figures.
The school was built in some old scientific facility. Way before the war. I mean, lots of schools were. They were the only place safe.
I went back to the computer, and found the old, heaving monitor humming with light, a single prompt on it.
BLACK MESA RESEARCH FACILITY
Initiate resonance cascasde? (Y/n)
_Black Mesa_. A flood of memories washed over me, not mine. Pictures of horrifying creatures, long since dead and gone. I hastily press n, and am greeted with a pleasant _ding!_
Facility Lockdown [CLEAR]
Projects, 1-999 [CLEAR]
Project 1A-1C [FAILED]
The screen flowed by, blueprints flowing down the screen like a monochromatic waterfall. These old terminals _sucked_ for image viewing. Something about an suit built before the war.
When I was _finally_ given the ability to interact with it again, I saw a single line prompt.
gfreeman@anomalousmat.blackmesa.us
I knew what happened. The war, the 7 hours lost for all of humanity.
I hastily typed exit, and ran out of the room, towards the lab.
As the terminal flickered, one more prompt was displayed:
Abort of Resonance Cascade - [POWER 157%] - FAILED
And then dark.
A eternal dark.
The primordial dark that all men fear.
The one that the free man had rescued them from.
And then a voice spoke.
_"Rise and shine, Mister Freeman, rise, and smell the ashes."_
| When I saw the label, I knew there was only one thing to do.
I tapped into the public address system using the handset that I always carried in my tool bag. It was actually an old Western Electric testing headset that I bought from a long-time WE employee on eBay. I gathered my wits, took a deep breath, and announced in my best principal's voice: "Randi Kitten, report to the computer lab immediately!"
As I waited for her arrival, I used a can of compressed air to remove the dust from around the label. I needed the label to be as presentable as possible.
There was a knock on the door. I answered, trying to keep my voice from advertising the nervousness I was feeling: "Come in, the door's unlocked."
Randi walked in, wearing her cheerleader's outfit as she did most days. When she saw me, she exclaimed: "Not you again! I told you that the captain of the football team is the only guy for me."
I smiled and said: "Randi, darling, would you please just walk over here and read the label on this old computer?"
She walked in front of the computer, read the label, and declared: "Is this for real? What will happen if the power is switched off?"
"I don't really know, but the label warns of terrible things. Terrible. Randi, your refusal to go out with me has truly hurt me. I'm so depressed that I'm tempted to turn the power off and take the world with me," I said with a sigh.
"Oh, that's awful! Is there anything I can do?" she asked.
"Well, there is one thing." | |
[WP] While cleaning up your school's computer science club room, you find an old computer from the 70's that's still running. There is a label on the computer that reads "Do NOT turn off: world will end" | I shrugged at the uninspired prank, wondering briefly which idiot had left the note, and with a casual flick of the finger, I tur | When I saw the label, I knew there was only one thing to do.
I tapped into the public address system using the handset that I always carried in my tool bag. It was actually an old Western Electric testing headset that I bought from a long-time WE employee on eBay. I gathered my wits, took a deep breath, and announced in my best principal's voice: "Randi Kitten, report to the computer lab immediately!"
As I waited for her arrival, I used a can of compressed air to remove the dust from around the label. I needed the label to be as presentable as possible.
There was a knock on the door. I answered, trying to keep my voice from advertising the nervousness I was feeling: "Come in, the door's unlocked."
Randi walked in, wearing her cheerleader's outfit as she did most days. When she saw me, she exclaimed: "Not you again! I told you that the captain of the football team is the only guy for me."
I smiled and said: "Randi, darling, would you please just walk over here and read the label on this old computer?"
She walked in front of the computer, read the label, and declared: "Is this for real? What will happen if the power is switched off?"
"I don't really know, but the label warns of terrible things. Terrible. Randi, your refusal to go out with me has truly hurt me. I'm so depressed that I'm tempted to turn the power off and take the world with me," I said with a sigh.
"Oh, that's awful! Is there anything I can do?" she asked.
"Well, there is one thing." | |
[WP] While cleaning up your school's computer science club room, you find an old computer from the 70's that's still running. There is a label on the computer that reads "Do NOT turn off: world will end" | I shrugged at the uninspired prank, wondering briefly which idiot had left the note, and with a casual flick of the finger, I tur | I found the computer a few weeks ago, the sign was clear and I had no reason to turn it off but curiosity was killing me.
Every time so far I'd stopped myself before I pressed the buttons. I'd checked the power records for the school and, despite the occasional power cuts to the area, this school had never yet been affected. It was as though something was keeping the power flowing.
After another sleepless night I couldn't stand it any more and ran back to school, leaving the doors open behind me as I charged heedlessly through the corridors. I barged into the empty room and reached for the button, pausing just before I closed my eyes and leaned forward...
***
(I couldn't choose which ending btw, so pick your favourite from the comments below.) | |
[WP] While cleaning up your school's computer science club room, you find an old computer from the 70's that's still running. There is a label on the computer that reads "Do NOT turn off: world will end" | I shrugged at the uninspired prank, wondering briefly which idiot had left the note, and with a casual flick of the finger, I tur | I was just finishing up my cleaning of the computer science club room, excited to finally be done with the chore. As I was walking back towards the door, I noticed a something in a corner of the room that didn't fit in with the rest of the room.
"Oh hey, and old 70's computer! I didn't know this was here!" I thought to myself. I noticed a piece of paper taped to the top of the box-shaped monitor, but I couldn't quite read it. As I got closer, I began to make out what it said.
"DO NOT TURN OFF: WORLD WILL END"
"I don't want to risk it," I said to myself as I made my way back to the room's exit, leaving the computer on. | |
Wow front page! Thanks guys for the fantastic stories!
Edit: Bonus prompt! [WP] An Arms dealer buys a gun from a dinosaur to kill his owner's neighbor. | [WP] You walk into an arms dealer's shop to purchase a gun to kill your neighbors pet dinosaur. | "Got anything bigger?"
The poor little hobbit-looking bastard shrugged and shuffled off to the back.
I examined the last gun he'd brought me, an ancient ten gauge side by side that'd probably rip my shoulder out of socket. *Sigh.*
He came back out with a monster. "If this won't do it, I don't know what will."
Lord above, this thing was massive. He muttered some insane caliber, above .500 and chambered in a rifle so big you'd need to rob a McDonald's for enough grease to clean it. ".577 Tyrannosaurus. That big enough for your pet problem?" If only he knew.
I paid the bastard off. Must've been two paychecks to cover that thing and the ammo. A quick drive home carefully avoiding five-0 and I was ready.
A knock at the door. John opens it and I rush in, no time for greetings. I head to his room, find that ancient monster, and blow it the fuck away.
John stands in the doorway, puzzled. "What the hell was that about?"
"WINDOWS XP IS A FUCKING JOKE, JOHN." | Mac waited impatiently. He was standing on a tall platform perhaps four stories high which was on the beach directly east of the blue obelisk. He checked his backpack for about the tenth time to make sure he had all the required supplies plus payment. Marty had told him this is where the dealer would make his stop. Some experienced muckety muck riding around on a bronto with a hut on its back selling hard to get items for the right price. Mac didn't need anything too rare. Just a longneck rifle so he could take care of his neighbors dilo pack once and for all. The damn things like to come over and eat every new tame he brought home and he was tired of it. Hours of work just to end up in some stupid raptor-wanna-be belly.
Mac felt its approach first. Each step sending out a minor tremor but slowly growing in intensity. He looked up and saw the behemoth approaching. It was mainly colored brown but with what appeared to be cheerful green and yellow highlights. A two story thatch structure was centered squarely on the back of the bronto and it too had cheerful yellow and green highlights. The bronto came to a slow and gentle halt right next to the platform.
Mac gingerly stepped onto the back of the bronto, finding it surprisingly stable. He headed inside the hut and was greeted by the sight of a topless older gentleman with tacos painted on his chest and holding a massive shotgun.
"Hola! Welcome to the Brontaco Truck! What can I get for you today?" the man said with a grin.
"Well, I know you usually don't sell this kind of stuff, but I was looking for a rifle. You see, I have a bit of a dilo problem on my hands but don't know how to make one yet." Mac replied tentatively.
"Oohhh, I see." said the man. "You're right. I normally don't sell weapons. Just dinosaur food with some hard to get materials on the side. I'll tell ya what. If you have the materials to make a rifle plus a bit more, then I'll make it for you."
"Here," said Mac as he slung his backpack onto the counter, "see if that will do."
The proprietor looked inside the bag and nodded approvingly. "This will do. Give me about an hour to build it. Now go climb up Brendas neck and give her some kibble while you wait."
About an hour later the man walked outside and handed Mac a beautiful new rifle. "Here ya go!" said the man. "One shot with this will take care of your dilo problem for good!" He handed back Mac's backpack. "I included a few rounds to help you get started. They are easy enough to make though. Just a bit of metal and gunpowder."
"Thanks!" said Mac. "I think I'll go try it out now!"
"Good luck! And don't forget to visit me again!"
Mac climbed down the platform and waved to the proprietor as the Brontaco Truck began to pull away. He reached into his backpack and pulled out a massive rifle round. "Yes," he thought, "one shot with this will DEFINITELY take care of my dilo problem."
[Source](http://np.reddit.com/r/playark/comments/3l19t5/i_designed_a_working_kibble_shop_currency_system) |
Wow front page! Thanks guys for the fantastic stories!
Edit: Bonus prompt! [WP] An Arms dealer buys a gun from a dinosaur to kill his owner's neighbor. | [WP] You walk into an arms dealer's shop to purchase a gun to kill your neighbors pet dinosaur. | I noticed the man as soon as he entered my store. It's unusual for me to get customers wearing suits and ties. Normally people just come in casual clothing, especially when they want to rent a lane on the firing range. Of course, some customers wear ridiculous camoflauge, but most people just dress normally.
He walked directly to the counter, "I need to place an order for an anti-tank gun." He put down some paperwork, the top paper showing notary stamp.
At this point, words could not describe my curiosity. "What are you, private military, CIA, ATF?"
He shrugged, "Let's say... game control. I have to deal with a couple of rogue ankylosaurs. I'm thinking a trailer-mounter 20mm sounds about right."
"There aren't any ankylosaurs around here. I've heard they reintroduced some in the Gobi desert, but we could almost literally not get further away from there and still be on Earth."
He shrugged again. "Some people are idiots", he said, as if that explained everything. When I just continued to stare at him in confusion, he sighed and pulled out his phone. He showed me a series of photographs of houses with collapsed walls and cars that looked like they'd been hit by cannonballs. One picture showed an ankylosaur, drinking from a pool in someone's back yard, with collapsed trees in the background clearly showing the path it had taken. Last was a video showing a group of police officers running away while the animal used its shoulder to flip a police car.
"Huh", I said.
"Obviously, I'd like this to be a rush order. And if you'd like me to meet you at whatever package delivery loading dock, so you don't have to tow it back here and find a place for it, that would be fine."
"Will an anti-tank round even hurt one of those things, or will it just bounce off the curved shell?"
"That's a fair point. Throw a few RPGs onto that order. Landing one of those under it might..."
"Piss it off?"
He sighed, "Yeah... The DoD has already refused to call an airstrike on a residential neighborhood. If we can't take it down with anti-tank rounds, we're stuck with either buying a suspicious amount of fertilizer and trying to crash a car bomb into it, or laying down a few truckloads of rat poison and evacuating the area for the next decade. Anyway, I figure once we find the asshole who smuggled that thing into the US, we'll at least get some use out of the RPGs."
| Mac waited impatiently. He was standing on a tall platform perhaps four stories high which was on the beach directly east of the blue obelisk. He checked his backpack for about the tenth time to make sure he had all the required supplies plus payment. Marty had told him this is where the dealer would make his stop. Some experienced muckety muck riding around on a bronto with a hut on its back selling hard to get items for the right price. Mac didn't need anything too rare. Just a longneck rifle so he could take care of his neighbors dilo pack once and for all. The damn things like to come over and eat every new tame he brought home and he was tired of it. Hours of work just to end up in some stupid raptor-wanna-be belly.
Mac felt its approach first. Each step sending out a minor tremor but slowly growing in intensity. He looked up and saw the behemoth approaching. It was mainly colored brown but with what appeared to be cheerful green and yellow highlights. A two story thatch structure was centered squarely on the back of the bronto and it too had cheerful yellow and green highlights. The bronto came to a slow and gentle halt right next to the platform.
Mac gingerly stepped onto the back of the bronto, finding it surprisingly stable. He headed inside the hut and was greeted by the sight of a topless older gentleman with tacos painted on his chest and holding a massive shotgun.
"Hola! Welcome to the Brontaco Truck! What can I get for you today?" the man said with a grin.
"Well, I know you usually don't sell this kind of stuff, but I was looking for a rifle. You see, I have a bit of a dilo problem on my hands but don't know how to make one yet." Mac replied tentatively.
"Oohhh, I see." said the man. "You're right. I normally don't sell weapons. Just dinosaur food with some hard to get materials on the side. I'll tell ya what. If you have the materials to make a rifle plus a bit more, then I'll make it for you."
"Here," said Mac as he slung his backpack onto the counter, "see if that will do."
The proprietor looked inside the bag and nodded approvingly. "This will do. Give me about an hour to build it. Now go climb up Brendas neck and give her some kibble while you wait."
About an hour later the man walked outside and handed Mac a beautiful new rifle. "Here ya go!" said the man. "One shot with this will take care of your dilo problem for good!" He handed back Mac's backpack. "I included a few rounds to help you get started. They are easy enough to make though. Just a bit of metal and gunpowder."
"Thanks!" said Mac. "I think I'll go try it out now!"
"Good luck! And don't forget to visit me again!"
Mac climbed down the platform and waved to the proprietor as the Brontaco Truck began to pull away. He reached into his backpack and pulled out a massive rifle round. "Yes," he thought, "one shot with this will DEFINITELY take care of my dilo problem."
[Source](http://np.reddit.com/r/playark/comments/3l19t5/i_designed_a_working_kibble_shop_currency_system) |
Wow front page! Thanks guys for the fantastic stories!
Edit: Bonus prompt! [WP] An Arms dealer buys a gun from a dinosaur to kill his owner's neighbor. | [WP] You walk into an arms dealer's shop to purchase a gun to kill your neighbors pet dinosaur. | "Got anything bigger?"
The poor little hobbit-looking bastard shrugged and shuffled off to the back.
I examined the last gun he'd brought me, an ancient ten gauge side by side that'd probably rip my shoulder out of socket. *Sigh.*
He came back out with a monster. "If this won't do it, I don't know what will."
Lord above, this thing was massive. He muttered some insane caliber, above .500 and chambered in a rifle so big you'd need to rob a McDonald's for enough grease to clean it. ".577 Tyrannosaurus. That big enough for your pet problem?" If only he knew.
I paid the bastard off. Must've been two paychecks to cover that thing and the ammo. A quick drive home carefully avoiding five-0 and I was ready.
A knock at the door. John opens it and I rush in, no time for greetings. I head to his room, find that ancient monster, and blow it the fuck away.
John stands in the doorway, puzzled. "What the hell was that about?"
"WINDOWS XP IS A FUCKING JOKE, JOHN." | "Naw, crossbow won't do it Jack. I need me a rifle, ain't no way some arrow is gonna pierce *that* thing's hide. "
"Listen here," the southern drawl from behind the glass counter managed, "I ain't know what kind of dog you're tryna hunt here, but you're looking at a shotgun's job."
"It's gonna be wearin' armor, Jack. And it ain't no *dog*. Thing's gonna be more of a size of a...uh, horse."
The glorious beard behind the counter proudly produced a mighty large shotgun, quickly accompanied by a rectangle blue box labeled "AP-20." The slow, hefty weapons merchant was never all too concerned with the motive of his customers as long as he had helped end the life of something on this planet, as he felt that was god's will set out for him.
The wrinkled eyes of Richard's took a second to scan and process the situation, before reaching for his wallet and reaching out his hand to finalize the transaction. The few dollars shelled out today will surely be worth defeating another week of sleepless nights.
As his purchase was snugly slung over his shoulder, and his boots positioned to reenter the blazing sun's heat, the beard behind the counter crackled, "And what kind of horse makes that loud of a damn racket at nighttime anyway?"
"Ain't no horse, Jack." Richard's dusty boots hit the sun scorched sidewalk. As his boots jangled, his old mind hypothesized as to be what would be the best course of action for taking out his neighbor's Thyreophoran. |
Wow front page! Thanks guys for the fantastic stories!
Edit: Bonus prompt! [WP] An Arms dealer buys a gun from a dinosaur to kill his owner's neighbor. | [WP] You walk into an arms dealer's shop to purchase a gun to kill your neighbors pet dinosaur. | I noticed the man as soon as he entered my store. It's unusual for me to get customers wearing suits and ties. Normally people just come in casual clothing, especially when they want to rent a lane on the firing range. Of course, some customers wear ridiculous camoflauge, but most people just dress normally.
He walked directly to the counter, "I need to place an order for an anti-tank gun." He put down some paperwork, the top paper showing notary stamp.
At this point, words could not describe my curiosity. "What are you, private military, CIA, ATF?"
He shrugged, "Let's say... game control. I have to deal with a couple of rogue ankylosaurs. I'm thinking a trailer-mounter 20mm sounds about right."
"There aren't any ankylosaurs around here. I've heard they reintroduced some in the Gobi desert, but we could almost literally not get further away from there and still be on Earth."
He shrugged again. "Some people are idiots", he said, as if that explained everything. When I just continued to stare at him in confusion, he sighed and pulled out his phone. He showed me a series of photographs of houses with collapsed walls and cars that looked like they'd been hit by cannonballs. One picture showed an ankylosaur, drinking from a pool in someone's back yard, with collapsed trees in the background clearly showing the path it had taken. Last was a video showing a group of police officers running away while the animal used its shoulder to flip a police car.
"Huh", I said.
"Obviously, I'd like this to be a rush order. And if you'd like me to meet you at whatever package delivery loading dock, so you don't have to tow it back here and find a place for it, that would be fine."
"Will an anti-tank round even hurt one of those things, or will it just bounce off the curved shell?"
"That's a fair point. Throw a few RPGs onto that order. Landing one of those under it might..."
"Piss it off?"
He sighed, "Yeah... The DoD has already refused to call an airstrike on a residential neighborhood. If we can't take it down with anti-tank rounds, we're stuck with either buying a suspicious amount of fertilizer and trying to crash a car bomb into it, or laying down a few truckloads of rat poison and evacuating the area for the next decade. Anyway, I figure once we find the asshole who smuggled that thing into the US, we'll at least get some use out of the RPGs."
| "Naw, crossbow won't do it Jack. I need me a rifle, ain't no way some arrow is gonna pierce *that* thing's hide. "
"Listen here," the southern drawl from behind the glass counter managed, "I ain't know what kind of dog you're tryna hunt here, but you're looking at a shotgun's job."
"It's gonna be wearin' armor, Jack. And it ain't no *dog*. Thing's gonna be more of a size of a...uh, horse."
The glorious beard behind the counter proudly produced a mighty large shotgun, quickly accompanied by a rectangle blue box labeled "AP-20." The slow, hefty weapons merchant was never all too concerned with the motive of his customers as long as he had helped end the life of something on this planet, as he felt that was god's will set out for him.
The wrinkled eyes of Richard's took a second to scan and process the situation, before reaching for his wallet and reaching out his hand to finalize the transaction. The few dollars shelled out today will surely be worth defeating another week of sleepless nights.
As his purchase was snugly slung over his shoulder, and his boots positioned to reenter the blazing sun's heat, the beard behind the counter crackled, "And what kind of horse makes that loud of a damn racket at nighttime anyway?"
"Ain't no horse, Jack." Richard's dusty boots hit the sun scorched sidewalk. As his boots jangled, his old mind hypothesized as to be what would be the best course of action for taking out his neighbor's Thyreophoran. |
Wow front page! Thanks guys for the fantastic stories!
Edit: Bonus prompt! [WP] An Arms dealer buys a gun from a dinosaur to kill his owner's neighbor. | [WP] You walk into an arms dealer's shop to purchase a gun to kill your neighbors pet dinosaur. | The wind howled outside the shop, though through the storm, footsteps could be heard approaching. The door opened with a ding-bell-thing. In walked a man of average height, brown hair and dressed as a cowboy.
The white bearded gun dealer looked him up and down before saying:
"Got some outlaws to kill there?"
"No." The cowboy-stranger said. "I'm an outlaw."
"And what makes you so fierce."
"I'm about to kill my neighbors pet."
The store owner laughed, he stopped when he saw the stranger's face.
"You're serious?"
"Always."
"Well what're we talking? Great Bernard? German Shepard? Tiger?"
"Dinosaur."
"... What?"
"Dinosaur."
"I heard you the first time, care to elaborate?"
"No, it isn't important. What kind of gun would you use to kill a dinosaur?"
"Uh..." The owner looked at his pistols and rifles. "Well uh, what kinda Dino you talking?"
"A fucking ginormous T-Rex with robot arms that can actually do shit."
"Oh uh... I-"
"And rocket shoulders."
"What?"
"It's shoulder's have rockets in them."
".... How-?"
"ITS NOT IMPORTANT. Goddammit, just give me a really big fucking gun, you stupid in-bred redneck."
"Excuse me? You can't talk to me that way."
The two stare at each other. The stranger drops his eyes.
"I know, I'm sorry. It's just, do you have any idea how shitty it is to live next to a dinosaur? It's exhausting. They're so loud, and stinky. Dinosaurs are nowhere near as magical as Jurassic Park made them out to be."
"Uh... Right. This should do the trick."
The shopkeep pulled out a set of keys.
"What am I supposed to stab him with these?"
"You could try but you'd probably die," the shop owner said straight faced.
"Obviously, I was being sarcastic. What am I supposed to do with these? I need a gun!"
"Well out in the back I have a tank. These are the keys to said tank. I think your best plan is to roll right through your neighbors front door and find the dino-"
"It's in the back."
"What?"
"The dinosaurs in the back. Why would I go through the front, that just makes more obstacles for me."
"Otherwise he'd see you coming."
"Hmm... Good point. I'll take the tank." The shopkeep gave him the keys. "This thing is child safe right?"
"I don't know, why?"
"Oh, it's nothing. It's just my neighbor has a few kids and I wouldn't want to hit them with the tank or anything when I drive it through their house and kill their pet."
"... I think it'll be okay."
"Okay, perfect. Thank you."
The two part ways, never to talk again. | "Naw, crossbow won't do it Jack. I need me a rifle, ain't no way some arrow is gonna pierce *that* thing's hide. "
"Listen here," the southern drawl from behind the glass counter managed, "I ain't know what kind of dog you're tryna hunt here, but you're looking at a shotgun's job."
"It's gonna be wearin' armor, Jack. And it ain't no *dog*. Thing's gonna be more of a size of a...uh, horse."
The glorious beard behind the counter proudly produced a mighty large shotgun, quickly accompanied by a rectangle blue box labeled "AP-20." The slow, hefty weapons merchant was never all too concerned with the motive of his customers as long as he had helped end the life of something on this planet, as he felt that was god's will set out for him.
The wrinkled eyes of Richard's took a second to scan and process the situation, before reaching for his wallet and reaching out his hand to finalize the transaction. The few dollars shelled out today will surely be worth defeating another week of sleepless nights.
As his purchase was snugly slung over his shoulder, and his boots positioned to reenter the blazing sun's heat, the beard behind the counter crackled, "And what kind of horse makes that loud of a damn racket at nighttime anyway?"
"Ain't no horse, Jack." Richard's dusty boots hit the sun scorched sidewalk. As his boots jangled, his old mind hypothesized as to be what would be the best course of action for taking out his neighbor's Thyreophoran. |
Wow front page! Thanks guys for the fantastic stories!
Edit: Bonus prompt! [WP] An Arms dealer buys a gun from a dinosaur to kill his owner's neighbor. | [WP] You walk into an arms dealer's shop to purchase a gun to kill your neighbors pet dinosaur. | "Listen! Buddy! I need a hunting rifle, and I need it now. No week's delay, or whatever, I need a gun, right goddamn now." I spit words as fast as I can come up with them in my head, because as far as I know, I only have a few hours to do this.
Just last night, I had heard something clatter in my backyard. As I went outside to check on it, baseball bat in hand, I had assumed it to be a Raccoon, or something similar..But nope; It was a goddamn Raptor. It had a long, stretched out snout, with tattered feathers coating its' body. It was at this time that it noticed me, and let out a shrill screech. I am almost dead sure that it would have torn out my throat, if it weren't for the sudden shock that ran through it's body, prompted by an old man's shout of "FLUFFY! HEEL!"
Jesus christ, who else? The old man that had called for the Raptor with the now-apparent shock-collar was none other than my sweet old neighbor, Chauncey Broff. He had lived here ever since my Parents bought this house in the late 70s. He's at Death's door, with his age getting to the high 80s. I'm starting to think he's immortal.
I pinch the bridge of my nose, as Chauncey lifts the Raptor, the size of a large bulldog, and gives me an earnest smile, before clambering over the pile of broken wood that used to be my picket fence. He didn't even explain to me how or why he had acquired a literal Dinosaur. It was at this moment that I decided that Chauncey had gone senile, and he needed to save him from the inevitability of being devoured by a raptor, and kill the Dino.
"I'm sorry, Mr. Tennant, but I can't sell you a Rifle over-the-counter. There's a whole process you need to go through..Also, your reasoning is a little sketchy." The burly man, currently the barrier between me and the tool of victory, both metaphorically and literally, elaborated as to why selling me a hunting rifle would get him fired, and me shot.
"This is fucking bullshit! A man's life hangs in the balance here!" I evolve to a throat-straining buff scream, and pound at the counter. This was beginning to piss me off.
The burly man presses a button on his walkie talkie, and, while staring me down, calls for security. "Security, there's this nutso screaming at me because I won't give him a gun." Oh great.
And that's the story of how I was never allowed in a Big 5 ever again. | "Naw, crossbow won't do it Jack. I need me a rifle, ain't no way some arrow is gonna pierce *that* thing's hide. "
"Listen here," the southern drawl from behind the glass counter managed, "I ain't know what kind of dog you're tryna hunt here, but you're looking at a shotgun's job."
"It's gonna be wearin' armor, Jack. And it ain't no *dog*. Thing's gonna be more of a size of a...uh, horse."
The glorious beard behind the counter proudly produced a mighty large shotgun, quickly accompanied by a rectangle blue box labeled "AP-20." The slow, hefty weapons merchant was never all too concerned with the motive of his customers as long as he had helped end the life of something on this planet, as he felt that was god's will set out for him.
The wrinkled eyes of Richard's took a second to scan and process the situation, before reaching for his wallet and reaching out his hand to finalize the transaction. The few dollars shelled out today will surely be worth defeating another week of sleepless nights.
As his purchase was snugly slung over his shoulder, and his boots positioned to reenter the blazing sun's heat, the beard behind the counter crackled, "And what kind of horse makes that loud of a damn racket at nighttime anyway?"
"Ain't no horse, Jack." Richard's dusty boots hit the sun scorched sidewalk. As his boots jangled, his old mind hypothesized as to be what would be the best course of action for taking out his neighbor's Thyreophoran. |
Wow front page! Thanks guys for the fantastic stories!
Edit: Bonus prompt! [WP] An Arms dealer buys a gun from a dinosaur to kill his owner's neighbor. | [WP] You walk into an arms dealer's shop to purchase a gun to kill your neighbors pet dinosaur. | "Listen, I know my background check isn't gonna come up clean. But I *need* this gun. You have no idea what it's like living next to my neighbor."
Holy shit. This guy was trying to purchase a murder weapon from me. I started to reach for the panic button under the front desk, tried to look cool, tried to keep him going.
"Oh yeah?" I asked. "Well... you might be able to convince me."
"The guy's a mad scientist. I know it sounds crazy but it's true. He brought a dinosaur back to life and he lets it loose in his yard. I'm afraid it's gonna attack poor Monty, my beagle, and if it does I want to be able to stop it."
A *dinosaur*? What the hell? This guy didn't want to kill his neighbor, well maybe he did, but now I was pretty sure he was just plain crazy rather than homicidal. My finger froze beneath the desk. My interest was piqued.
"Please. I know how it sounds. No one believes me. The 911 operator laughed at me. Please. I just want to be able to protect my Monty."
The guy's eyes were shimmering. His story was nuts, off the wall, but I couldn't help feeling bad for the guy.
"Hey, guy, what was your felony, anyway?"
His eyes darted around nervously.
"Felony drug posession, but I swear it was a long time ago, it wasn't mine--"
I cut him off with a laugh.
"That's it? Listen buddy, I feel your pain. Got caught with some Girl Scout Cookies when I was younger, cop passed me in the next lane and the smell drifted out my window, wasn't even smokin'. I was lucky to get off with a misdemeanor.
"I'll tell ya what, your story's way out there, but I think you seem harmless. So I'm just gonna sell you the revolver you want, you know how to use it?"
He nodded.
I went on.
"Here it is, then, and some free ammo to boot. Just don't go using it unless that. . . dinosaur, was it, unless the dinosaur actually comes after you or your dog."
I chuckled and he smiled. We shook hands and went about our days.
***
That night I got home and grabbed myself a beer. I turned on the local news on my kitchen television.
Immediately I dropped the bottle on the floor. It smashed into pieces, cold beer splattering over the linoleum.
I didn't look down. My eyes were fixed on the television screen, which bore the face of my customer from earlier. Beneath him was a legend:
"Man high on PCP shoots neighbor's pet iguana." | "Naw, crossbow won't do it Jack. I need me a rifle, ain't no way some arrow is gonna pierce *that* thing's hide. "
"Listen here," the southern drawl from behind the glass counter managed, "I ain't know what kind of dog you're tryna hunt here, but you're looking at a shotgun's job."
"It's gonna be wearin' armor, Jack. And it ain't no *dog*. Thing's gonna be more of a size of a...uh, horse."
The glorious beard behind the counter proudly produced a mighty large shotgun, quickly accompanied by a rectangle blue box labeled "AP-20." The slow, hefty weapons merchant was never all too concerned with the motive of his customers as long as he had helped end the life of something on this planet, as he felt that was god's will set out for him.
The wrinkled eyes of Richard's took a second to scan and process the situation, before reaching for his wallet and reaching out his hand to finalize the transaction. The few dollars shelled out today will surely be worth defeating another week of sleepless nights.
As his purchase was snugly slung over his shoulder, and his boots positioned to reenter the blazing sun's heat, the beard behind the counter crackled, "And what kind of horse makes that loud of a damn racket at nighttime anyway?"
"Ain't no horse, Jack." Richard's dusty boots hit the sun scorched sidewalk. As his boots jangled, his old mind hypothesized as to be what would be the best course of action for taking out his neighbor's Thyreophoran. |
Wow front page! Thanks guys for the fantastic stories!
Edit: Bonus prompt! [WP] An Arms dealer buys a gun from a dinosaur to kill his owner's neighbor. | [WP] You walk into an arms dealer's shop to purchase a gun to kill your neighbors pet dinosaur. | "You're kidding me." Sid replied.
"Do I look like I kid son?" the man asked.
Sid looked at the man. His white hair was wrinkled mess. The tweed jacket on him seemed new, but was terribly wrinkled, as if it had been worn for weeks. And his left eye; It was .. spasming.
Sid tried to keep a calm look "Sir, T-Rex is a legally endangered species, under section 57A of Cloned Wildlife Protection act"
Maybe this patron would unders-
"I don't need you to read me the patriot - act kid !" the man yelled. "I fought in the contact wars" he said poking Sid, "This whole etablishement owes its freedom to me"
"Sir, I legally cannot -"
"He shits in my garden!" the man said ,literally stomping his feet.
"Any idea how much buckets worth of shit a T-Rex makes? A day!"
Sid pictured the gentlemen scooping up T-Rex poop. He stifled his laugh behind a cough "uh-huh... You should call the services."
"My neighbor is the mayor of this town." the man said quietly. His voice broke "They don't even register the complain"
Sid was starting to feel sorry for the man. He reminded him of his Dada.
"Look.. um Mr..." Sid started
"Sanders. P.P. Sanders" the man replied.
"My god *pee-pee*!" Sid's inner voice cackled.
"I can't sell you lethal weapons you intend to use against a clone dinosaur. But.."
he said bending behind the counter." I can give you this"
He was holding a small bottles of pills.
"Whats that?" P.P. Sanders said coming close.
"Empathy pills." Sid said taking one out. "They were first developed after people discovered it was actually *a very bad idea* to have dinosaurs as your pets."
"Just lick one like this.." he said pretend-licking the pill. "..and then feed it to the T-Rex after it comes in your garden."
"What will that do?" Sander's said picking up the pill. He seemd like a blind man looking at a color catalog.
"It will overrride your neighbor's empathy link.Then the T-Rex will establish you as its Alpha, neurologically speaking he.." Sid noticed the blank look on the man's face. "The T-Rex will be super nice to you after this. No more toilet trouble"
"What about the owner?" Sanders asked.
"Well the dinosaur won't kill him, but since the owner apparently hasn't bothered to toilet train him, he will probably treat his house as a sand-box, metaphorically speaking" Sid replied smiling.
"Thank you young man." the man seemed to be on the brink of tears.
He turned about and started walking towards the door. A wicked smile played on his lips.
"Things are about to go to shit!" he screamed exiting.
"Another happy customer"
| "Naw, crossbow won't do it Jack. I need me a rifle, ain't no way some arrow is gonna pierce *that* thing's hide. "
"Listen here," the southern drawl from behind the glass counter managed, "I ain't know what kind of dog you're tryna hunt here, but you're looking at a shotgun's job."
"It's gonna be wearin' armor, Jack. And it ain't no *dog*. Thing's gonna be more of a size of a...uh, horse."
The glorious beard behind the counter proudly produced a mighty large shotgun, quickly accompanied by a rectangle blue box labeled "AP-20." The slow, hefty weapons merchant was never all too concerned with the motive of his customers as long as he had helped end the life of something on this planet, as he felt that was god's will set out for him.
The wrinkled eyes of Richard's took a second to scan and process the situation, before reaching for his wallet and reaching out his hand to finalize the transaction. The few dollars shelled out today will surely be worth defeating another week of sleepless nights.
As his purchase was snugly slung over his shoulder, and his boots positioned to reenter the blazing sun's heat, the beard behind the counter crackled, "And what kind of horse makes that loud of a damn racket at nighttime anyway?"
"Ain't no horse, Jack." Richard's dusty boots hit the sun scorched sidewalk. As his boots jangled, his old mind hypothesized as to be what would be the best course of action for taking out his neighbor's Thyreophoran. |
Wow front page! Thanks guys for the fantastic stories!
Edit: Bonus prompt! [WP] An Arms dealer buys a gun from a dinosaur to kill his owner's neighbor. | [WP] You walk into an arms dealer's shop to purchase a gun to kill your neighbors pet dinosaur. | "Listen, I know my background check isn't gonna come up clean. But I *need* this gun. You have no idea what it's like living next to my neighbor."
Holy shit. This guy was trying to purchase a murder weapon from me. I started to reach for the panic button under the front desk, tried to look cool, tried to keep him going.
"Oh yeah?" I asked. "Well... you might be able to convince me."
"The guy's a mad scientist. I know it sounds crazy but it's true. He brought a dinosaur back to life and he lets it loose in his yard. I'm afraid it's gonna attack poor Monty, my beagle, and if it does I want to be able to stop it."
A *dinosaur*? What the hell? This guy didn't want to kill his neighbor, well maybe he did, but now I was pretty sure he was just plain crazy rather than homicidal. My finger froze beneath the desk. My interest was piqued.
"Please. I know how it sounds. No one believes me. The 911 operator laughed at me. Please. I just want to be able to protect my Monty."
The guy's eyes were shimmering. His story was nuts, off the wall, but I couldn't help feeling bad for the guy.
"Hey, guy, what was your felony, anyway?"
His eyes darted around nervously.
"Felony drug posession, but I swear it was a long time ago, it wasn't mine--"
I cut him off with a laugh.
"That's it? Listen buddy, I feel your pain. Got caught with some Girl Scout Cookies when I was younger, cop passed me in the next lane and the smell drifted out my window, wasn't even smokin'. I was lucky to get off with a misdemeanor.
"I'll tell ya what, your story's way out there, but I think you seem harmless. So I'm just gonna sell you the revolver you want, you know how to use it?"
He nodded.
I went on.
"Here it is, then, and some free ammo to boot. Just don't go using it unless that. . . dinosaur, was it, unless the dinosaur actually comes after you or your dog."
I chuckled and he smiled. We shook hands and went about our days.
***
That night I got home and grabbed myself a beer. I turned on the local news on my kitchen television.
Immediately I dropped the bottle on the floor. It smashed into pieces, cold beer splattering over the linoleum.
I didn't look down. My eyes were fixed on the television screen, which bore the face of my customer from earlier. Beneath him was a legend:
"Man high on PCP shoots neighbor's pet iguana." | The wind howled outside the shop, though through the storm, footsteps could be heard approaching. The door opened with a ding-bell-thing. In walked a man of average height, brown hair and dressed as a cowboy.
The white bearded gun dealer looked him up and down before saying:
"Got some outlaws to kill there?"
"No." The cowboy-stranger said. "I'm an outlaw."
"And what makes you so fierce."
"I'm about to kill my neighbors pet."
The store owner laughed, he stopped when he saw the stranger's face.
"You're serious?"
"Always."
"Well what're we talking? Great Bernard? German Shepard? Tiger?"
"Dinosaur."
"... What?"
"Dinosaur."
"I heard you the first time, care to elaborate?"
"No, it isn't important. What kind of gun would you use to kill a dinosaur?"
"Uh..." The owner looked at his pistols and rifles. "Well uh, what kinda Dino you talking?"
"A fucking ginormous T-Rex with robot arms that can actually do shit."
"Oh uh... I-"
"And rocket shoulders."
"What?"
"It's shoulder's have rockets in them."
".... How-?"
"ITS NOT IMPORTANT. Goddammit, just give me a really big fucking gun, you stupid in-bred redneck."
"Excuse me? You can't talk to me that way."
The two stare at each other. The stranger drops his eyes.
"I know, I'm sorry. It's just, do you have any idea how shitty it is to live next to a dinosaur? It's exhausting. They're so loud, and stinky. Dinosaurs are nowhere near as magical as Jurassic Park made them out to be."
"Uh... Right. This should do the trick."
The shopkeep pulled out a set of keys.
"What am I supposed to stab him with these?"
"You could try but you'd probably die," the shop owner said straight faced.
"Obviously, I was being sarcastic. What am I supposed to do with these? I need a gun!"
"Well out in the back I have a tank. These are the keys to said tank. I think your best plan is to roll right through your neighbors front door and find the dino-"
"It's in the back."
"What?"
"The dinosaurs in the back. Why would I go through the front, that just makes more obstacles for me."
"Otherwise he'd see you coming."
"Hmm... Good point. I'll take the tank." The shopkeep gave him the keys. "This thing is child safe right?"
"I don't know, why?"
"Oh, it's nothing. It's just my neighbor has a few kids and I wouldn't want to hit them with the tank or anything when I drive it through their house and kill their pet."
"... I think it'll be okay."
"Okay, perfect. Thank you."
The two part ways, never to talk again. |
Wow front page! Thanks guys for the fantastic stories!
Edit: Bonus prompt! [WP] An Arms dealer buys a gun from a dinosaur to kill his owner's neighbor. | [WP] You walk into an arms dealer's shop to purchase a gun to kill your neighbors pet dinosaur. | "Listen! Buddy! I need a hunting rifle, and I need it now. No week's delay, or whatever, I need a gun, right goddamn now." I spit words as fast as I can come up with them in my head, because as far as I know, I only have a few hours to do this.
Just last night, I had heard something clatter in my backyard. As I went outside to check on it, baseball bat in hand, I had assumed it to be a Raccoon, or something similar..But nope; It was a goddamn Raptor. It had a long, stretched out snout, with tattered feathers coating its' body. It was at this time that it noticed me, and let out a shrill screech. I am almost dead sure that it would have torn out my throat, if it weren't for the sudden shock that ran through it's body, prompted by an old man's shout of "FLUFFY! HEEL!"
Jesus christ, who else? The old man that had called for the Raptor with the now-apparent shock-collar was none other than my sweet old neighbor, Chauncey Broff. He had lived here ever since my Parents bought this house in the late 70s. He's at Death's door, with his age getting to the high 80s. I'm starting to think he's immortal.
I pinch the bridge of my nose, as Chauncey lifts the Raptor, the size of a large bulldog, and gives me an earnest smile, before clambering over the pile of broken wood that used to be my picket fence. He didn't even explain to me how or why he had acquired a literal Dinosaur. It was at this moment that I decided that Chauncey had gone senile, and he needed to save him from the inevitability of being devoured by a raptor, and kill the Dino.
"I'm sorry, Mr. Tennant, but I can't sell you a Rifle over-the-counter. There's a whole process you need to go through..Also, your reasoning is a little sketchy." The burly man, currently the barrier between me and the tool of victory, both metaphorically and literally, elaborated as to why selling me a hunting rifle would get him fired, and me shot.
"This is fucking bullshit! A man's life hangs in the balance here!" I evolve to a throat-straining buff scream, and pound at the counter. This was beginning to piss me off.
The burly man presses a button on his walkie talkie, and, while staring me down, calls for security. "Security, there's this nutso screaming at me because I won't give him a gun." Oh great.
And that's the story of how I was never allowed in a Big 5 ever again. | The arms dealer is confused to why I'm trying to kill an extinct animal for obvious reasons. Now, I have to back track my story to explain how my neighbor even got a dinosaur in the first place. When I reiterate that I need a weapon to care of the beast, the arms dealer, completely mesmerized by the beast, refuses to sell me anything.
Since the arms dealer was a bust, I go to the bank to see what I can do about moving, for I CAN NOT live next to this dinosaur any more. While talking to the associate, they too become fascinated by the dinosaur and want to learn more. After I run through the entire story, the associate tells me there nothing he can do, but REQUESTS that I take a picture of the beast.
I return home to find that the dinosaur, once again, leaves a steaming pile on my lawn. I start to debate if suicide is an option while I clean this massive dookie up. |
Wow front page! Thanks guys for the fantastic stories!
Edit: Bonus prompt! [WP] An Arms dealer buys a gun from a dinosaur to kill his owner's neighbor. | [WP] You walk into an arms dealer's shop to purchase a gun to kill your neighbors pet dinosaur. | "Listen, I know my background check isn't gonna come up clean. But I *need* this gun. You have no idea what it's like living next to my neighbor."
Holy shit. This guy was trying to purchase a murder weapon from me. I started to reach for the panic button under the front desk, tried to look cool, tried to keep him going.
"Oh yeah?" I asked. "Well... you might be able to convince me."
"The guy's a mad scientist. I know it sounds crazy but it's true. He brought a dinosaur back to life and he lets it loose in his yard. I'm afraid it's gonna attack poor Monty, my beagle, and if it does I want to be able to stop it."
A *dinosaur*? What the hell? This guy didn't want to kill his neighbor, well maybe he did, but now I was pretty sure he was just plain crazy rather than homicidal. My finger froze beneath the desk. My interest was piqued.
"Please. I know how it sounds. No one believes me. The 911 operator laughed at me. Please. I just want to be able to protect my Monty."
The guy's eyes were shimmering. His story was nuts, off the wall, but I couldn't help feeling bad for the guy.
"Hey, guy, what was your felony, anyway?"
His eyes darted around nervously.
"Felony drug posession, but I swear it was a long time ago, it wasn't mine--"
I cut him off with a laugh.
"That's it? Listen buddy, I feel your pain. Got caught with some Girl Scout Cookies when I was younger, cop passed me in the next lane and the smell drifted out my window, wasn't even smokin'. I was lucky to get off with a misdemeanor.
"I'll tell ya what, your story's way out there, but I think you seem harmless. So I'm just gonna sell you the revolver you want, you know how to use it?"
He nodded.
I went on.
"Here it is, then, and some free ammo to boot. Just don't go using it unless that. . . dinosaur, was it, unless the dinosaur actually comes after you or your dog."
I chuckled and he smiled. We shook hands and went about our days.
***
That night I got home and grabbed myself a beer. I turned on the local news on my kitchen television.
Immediately I dropped the bottle on the floor. It smashed into pieces, cold beer splattering over the linoleum.
I didn't look down. My eyes were fixed on the television screen, which bore the face of my customer from earlier. Beneath him was a legend:
"Man high on PCP shoots neighbor's pet iguana." | The arms dealer is confused to why I'm trying to kill an extinct animal for obvious reasons. Now, I have to back track my story to explain how my neighbor even got a dinosaur in the first place. When I reiterate that I need a weapon to care of the beast, the arms dealer, completely mesmerized by the beast, refuses to sell me anything.
Since the arms dealer was a bust, I go to the bank to see what I can do about moving, for I CAN NOT live next to this dinosaur any more. While talking to the associate, they too become fascinated by the dinosaur and want to learn more. After I run through the entire story, the associate tells me there nothing he can do, but REQUESTS that I take a picture of the beast.
I return home to find that the dinosaur, once again, leaves a steaming pile on my lawn. I start to debate if suicide is an option while I clean this massive dookie up. |
Wow front page! Thanks guys for the fantastic stories!
Edit: Bonus prompt! [WP] An Arms dealer buys a gun from a dinosaur to kill his owner's neighbor. | [WP] You walk into an arms dealer's shop to purchase a gun to kill your neighbors pet dinosaur. | "You're kidding me." Sid replied.
"Do I look like I kid son?" the man asked.
Sid looked at the man. His white hair was wrinkled mess. The tweed jacket on him seemed new, but was terribly wrinkled, as if it had been worn for weeks. And his left eye; It was .. spasming.
Sid tried to keep a calm look "Sir, T-Rex is a legally endangered species, under section 57A of Cloned Wildlife Protection act"
Maybe this patron would unders-
"I don't need you to read me the patriot - act kid !" the man yelled. "I fought in the contact wars" he said poking Sid, "This whole etablishement owes its freedom to me"
"Sir, I legally cannot -"
"He shits in my garden!" the man said ,literally stomping his feet.
"Any idea how much buckets worth of shit a T-Rex makes? A day!"
Sid pictured the gentlemen scooping up T-Rex poop. He stifled his laugh behind a cough "uh-huh... You should call the services."
"My neighbor is the mayor of this town." the man said quietly. His voice broke "They don't even register the complain"
Sid was starting to feel sorry for the man. He reminded him of his Dada.
"Look.. um Mr..." Sid started
"Sanders. P.P. Sanders" the man replied.
"My god *pee-pee*!" Sid's inner voice cackled.
"I can't sell you lethal weapons you intend to use against a clone dinosaur. But.."
he said bending behind the counter." I can give you this"
He was holding a small bottles of pills.
"Whats that?" P.P. Sanders said coming close.
"Empathy pills." Sid said taking one out. "They were first developed after people discovered it was actually *a very bad idea* to have dinosaurs as your pets."
"Just lick one like this.." he said pretend-licking the pill. "..and then feed it to the T-Rex after it comes in your garden."
"What will that do?" Sander's said picking up the pill. He seemd like a blind man looking at a color catalog.
"It will overrride your neighbor's empathy link.Then the T-Rex will establish you as its Alpha, neurologically speaking he.." Sid noticed the blank look on the man's face. "The T-Rex will be super nice to you after this. No more toilet trouble"
"What about the owner?" Sanders asked.
"Well the dinosaur won't kill him, but since the owner apparently hasn't bothered to toilet train him, he will probably treat his house as a sand-box, metaphorically speaking" Sid replied smiling.
"Thank you young man." the man seemed to be on the brink of tears.
He turned about and started walking towards the door. A wicked smile played on his lips.
"Things are about to go to shit!" he screamed exiting.
"Another happy customer"
| The arms dealer is confused to why I'm trying to kill an extinct animal for obvious reasons. Now, I have to back track my story to explain how my neighbor even got a dinosaur in the first place. When I reiterate that I need a weapon to care of the beast, the arms dealer, completely mesmerized by the beast, refuses to sell me anything.
Since the arms dealer was a bust, I go to the bank to see what I can do about moving, for I CAN NOT live next to this dinosaur any more. While talking to the associate, they too become fascinated by the dinosaur and want to learn more. After I run through the entire story, the associate tells me there nothing he can do, but REQUESTS that I take a picture of the beast.
I return home to find that the dinosaur, once again, leaves a steaming pile on my lawn. I start to debate if suicide is an option while I clean this massive dookie up. |
Wow front page! Thanks guys for the fantastic stories!
Edit: Bonus prompt! [WP] An Arms dealer buys a gun from a dinosaur to kill his owner's neighbor. | [WP] You walk into an arms dealer's shop to purchase a gun to kill your neighbors pet dinosaur. | "Listen, I know my background check isn't gonna come up clean. But I *need* this gun. You have no idea what it's like living next to my neighbor."
Holy shit. This guy was trying to purchase a murder weapon from me. I started to reach for the panic button under the front desk, tried to look cool, tried to keep him going.
"Oh yeah?" I asked. "Well... you might be able to convince me."
"The guy's a mad scientist. I know it sounds crazy but it's true. He brought a dinosaur back to life and he lets it loose in his yard. I'm afraid it's gonna attack poor Monty, my beagle, and if it does I want to be able to stop it."
A *dinosaur*? What the hell? This guy didn't want to kill his neighbor, well maybe he did, but now I was pretty sure he was just plain crazy rather than homicidal. My finger froze beneath the desk. My interest was piqued.
"Please. I know how it sounds. No one believes me. The 911 operator laughed at me. Please. I just want to be able to protect my Monty."
The guy's eyes were shimmering. His story was nuts, off the wall, but I couldn't help feeling bad for the guy.
"Hey, guy, what was your felony, anyway?"
His eyes darted around nervously.
"Felony drug posession, but I swear it was a long time ago, it wasn't mine--"
I cut him off with a laugh.
"That's it? Listen buddy, I feel your pain. Got caught with some Girl Scout Cookies when I was younger, cop passed me in the next lane and the smell drifted out my window, wasn't even smokin'. I was lucky to get off with a misdemeanor.
"I'll tell ya what, your story's way out there, but I think you seem harmless. So I'm just gonna sell you the revolver you want, you know how to use it?"
He nodded.
I went on.
"Here it is, then, and some free ammo to boot. Just don't go using it unless that. . . dinosaur, was it, unless the dinosaur actually comes after you or your dog."
I chuckled and he smiled. We shook hands and went about our days.
***
That night I got home and grabbed myself a beer. I turned on the local news on my kitchen television.
Immediately I dropped the bottle on the floor. It smashed into pieces, cold beer splattering over the linoleum.
I didn't look down. My eyes were fixed on the television screen, which bore the face of my customer from earlier. Beneath him was a legend:
"Man high on PCP shoots neighbor's pet iguana." | "Listen! Buddy! I need a hunting rifle, and I need it now. No week's delay, or whatever, I need a gun, right goddamn now." I spit words as fast as I can come up with them in my head, because as far as I know, I only have a few hours to do this.
Just last night, I had heard something clatter in my backyard. As I went outside to check on it, baseball bat in hand, I had assumed it to be a Raccoon, or something similar..But nope; It was a goddamn Raptor. It had a long, stretched out snout, with tattered feathers coating its' body. It was at this time that it noticed me, and let out a shrill screech. I am almost dead sure that it would have torn out my throat, if it weren't for the sudden shock that ran through it's body, prompted by an old man's shout of "FLUFFY! HEEL!"
Jesus christ, who else? The old man that had called for the Raptor with the now-apparent shock-collar was none other than my sweet old neighbor, Chauncey Broff. He had lived here ever since my Parents bought this house in the late 70s. He's at Death's door, with his age getting to the high 80s. I'm starting to think he's immortal.
I pinch the bridge of my nose, as Chauncey lifts the Raptor, the size of a large bulldog, and gives me an earnest smile, before clambering over the pile of broken wood that used to be my picket fence. He didn't even explain to me how or why he had acquired a literal Dinosaur. It was at this moment that I decided that Chauncey had gone senile, and he needed to save him from the inevitability of being devoured by a raptor, and kill the Dino.
"I'm sorry, Mr. Tennant, but I can't sell you a Rifle over-the-counter. There's a whole process you need to go through..Also, your reasoning is a little sketchy." The burly man, currently the barrier between me and the tool of victory, both metaphorically and literally, elaborated as to why selling me a hunting rifle would get him fired, and me shot.
"This is fucking bullshit! A man's life hangs in the balance here!" I evolve to a throat-straining buff scream, and pound at the counter. This was beginning to piss me off.
The burly man presses a button on his walkie talkie, and, while staring me down, calls for security. "Security, there's this nutso screaming at me because I won't give him a gun." Oh great.
And that's the story of how I was never allowed in a Big 5 ever again. |
Wow front page! Thanks guys for the fantastic stories!
Edit: Bonus prompt! [WP] An Arms dealer buys a gun from a dinosaur to kill his owner's neighbor. | [WP] You walk into an arms dealer's shop to purchase a gun to kill your neighbors pet dinosaur. | "You're kidding me." Sid replied.
"Do I look like I kid son?" the man asked.
Sid looked at the man. His white hair was wrinkled mess. The tweed jacket on him seemed new, but was terribly wrinkled, as if it had been worn for weeks. And his left eye; It was .. spasming.
Sid tried to keep a calm look "Sir, T-Rex is a legally endangered species, under section 57A of Cloned Wildlife Protection act"
Maybe this patron would unders-
"I don't need you to read me the patriot - act kid !" the man yelled. "I fought in the contact wars" he said poking Sid, "This whole etablishement owes its freedom to me"
"Sir, I legally cannot -"
"He shits in my garden!" the man said ,literally stomping his feet.
"Any idea how much buckets worth of shit a T-Rex makes? A day!"
Sid pictured the gentlemen scooping up T-Rex poop. He stifled his laugh behind a cough "uh-huh... You should call the services."
"My neighbor is the mayor of this town." the man said quietly. His voice broke "They don't even register the complain"
Sid was starting to feel sorry for the man. He reminded him of his Dada.
"Look.. um Mr..." Sid started
"Sanders. P.P. Sanders" the man replied.
"My god *pee-pee*!" Sid's inner voice cackled.
"I can't sell you lethal weapons you intend to use against a clone dinosaur. But.."
he said bending behind the counter." I can give you this"
He was holding a small bottles of pills.
"Whats that?" P.P. Sanders said coming close.
"Empathy pills." Sid said taking one out. "They were first developed after people discovered it was actually *a very bad idea* to have dinosaurs as your pets."
"Just lick one like this.." he said pretend-licking the pill. "..and then feed it to the T-Rex after it comes in your garden."
"What will that do?" Sander's said picking up the pill. He seemd like a blind man looking at a color catalog.
"It will overrride your neighbor's empathy link.Then the T-Rex will establish you as its Alpha, neurologically speaking he.." Sid noticed the blank look on the man's face. "The T-Rex will be super nice to you after this. No more toilet trouble"
"What about the owner?" Sanders asked.
"Well the dinosaur won't kill him, but since the owner apparently hasn't bothered to toilet train him, he will probably treat his house as a sand-box, metaphorically speaking" Sid replied smiling.
"Thank you young man." the man seemed to be on the brink of tears.
He turned about and started walking towards the door. A wicked smile played on his lips.
"Things are about to go to shit!" he screamed exiting.
"Another happy customer"
| "Listen! Buddy! I need a hunting rifle, and I need it now. No week's delay, or whatever, I need a gun, right goddamn now." I spit words as fast as I can come up with them in my head, because as far as I know, I only have a few hours to do this.
Just last night, I had heard something clatter in my backyard. As I went outside to check on it, baseball bat in hand, I had assumed it to be a Raccoon, or something similar..But nope; It was a goddamn Raptor. It had a long, stretched out snout, with tattered feathers coating its' body. It was at this time that it noticed me, and let out a shrill screech. I am almost dead sure that it would have torn out my throat, if it weren't for the sudden shock that ran through it's body, prompted by an old man's shout of "FLUFFY! HEEL!"
Jesus christ, who else? The old man that had called for the Raptor with the now-apparent shock-collar was none other than my sweet old neighbor, Chauncey Broff. He had lived here ever since my Parents bought this house in the late 70s. He's at Death's door, with his age getting to the high 80s. I'm starting to think he's immortal.
I pinch the bridge of my nose, as Chauncey lifts the Raptor, the size of a large bulldog, and gives me an earnest smile, before clambering over the pile of broken wood that used to be my picket fence. He didn't even explain to me how or why he had acquired a literal Dinosaur. It was at this moment that I decided that Chauncey had gone senile, and he needed to save him from the inevitability of being devoured by a raptor, and kill the Dino.
"I'm sorry, Mr. Tennant, but I can't sell you a Rifle over-the-counter. There's a whole process you need to go through..Also, your reasoning is a little sketchy." The burly man, currently the barrier between me and the tool of victory, both metaphorically and literally, elaborated as to why selling me a hunting rifle would get him fired, and me shot.
"This is fucking bullshit! A man's life hangs in the balance here!" I evolve to a throat-straining buff scream, and pound at the counter. This was beginning to piss me off.
The burly man presses a button on his walkie talkie, and, while staring me down, calls for security. "Security, there's this nutso screaming at me because I won't give him a gun." Oh great.
And that's the story of how I was never allowed in a Big 5 ever again. |
[WP] Satan and Santa Switch jobs for a year due to a contract mistake. | Short but important.
The world awoke in a cloak of fear. What was once a cherished holiday was now what many seen as the end of days. Christmas morning has come. Children stand at the frame of the door staring at their parents
"But what if there's gifts?" They ask.
And slowly, a world in the grip of fear walk to their Christmas trees. But what is this? Gifts and toys laid under the tree. Cookies eaten, and everyone filled with Christmas cheer. And what's that they hear, the cries of hitler getting his daily pineapple up the ass echoes from hell.
Everyone is in disbelieve because somehow everything was as how it was supposed to be. So the Easter bunny takes a trip down to hell to see what's going on. Everything is hell as you'd expect. Fire, brimstone, Shania on repeat. And there sitting in an exhausted stance is Satan chatting with good old Saint Nick.
"We were all so worried, but you both came through." Said the rabbit.
And both Santa and Satan replied, "We did the job we are paid to do." They said with a smirk.
"We aren't Kim Davis." | They say that time flies.
At other times, it seems to crawl. Whoever *they* are, of course, never really understood time.
You see, time does not speed up or slow down for me the way that it does for humans. It just *is* – a somewhat exasperating continuum of repetition of years. That’s what you get when you’re a time keeper. You keep the time, and time just keeps *you* – alive, I mean, and I’m just being a romanticist here because I wasn’t – well, born per se. Hey… I’m trying my best here.
From a distance away, I heard the high-pitched screech of a car, some hurried footsteps and a door slam. A decisive click of its locks with a shrill beep. More footsteps. Then silence consumed the city once more. People were frightened. Of precisely what, you may ask? Well, I have noticed over the centuries that people are afraid of many things, sometimes even bordering on the ridiculous, but this time they were right in being afraid.
Picking up a pace, I darted around a corner and marched onto the city’s largest shopping street. The place to pick up that last bit of Christmas spirit! – or so the entrance banner advertised. Now just an empty street dyed in a sea of velvet red and green. I suppose the Christmas spirit died and went to hell. Hah, that was a joke by the way. From every building to lamppost the Christmas cheer was hung, fake greenery weighed down by bells, all reflecting the frozen smile of a bearded old man. A censor was triggered from somewhere and the dying tune of Jingle Bells echoed out, haunting the splash of flyers that littered the floor.
*Up to 50% off storewide until midnight!*
*Get a free fruitcake with every 2 purchased!*
*Missing.*
*Missing!*
*MISSING!*
Different faces, different dates. But all within the past 5 days and all of them children. You know, the only ones who stayed up to greet Santa – or at least, that was who it should have been. I continued walking down the length of the street until I came to a squat, grey building. In sleek, gold letters that seemed to express a certain degree of class were the words “Ripper Insurance”. Against the other tall commercial buildings, this stuck out like the black sheep of the family. Meh, the higher ups were hardly witty, but it was funny how people never seemed to notice the bad puns.
But that wasn’t what made me freeze in my tracks.
Sitting inconspicuously before the door was a giant gold box. Not just any box, but one that looked like it had seen better days as a disco ball and large enough to hide a body in. I threaded carefully for a few steps, trying not to disrupt the silence in the air before bursting into a sprint, sidestepping just in time to avoid the mechanical Santa that burst out to assault me.
“Wa ha ha! Merry Lucifermas-”
I punched it before it could finish its sentence, twisting its stupid blown-up arm around its back until I heard the dull *clink* of a knife on the floor. Bloody censor machines. Probably one of the worst things humans have invented.
“I don’t know how much your master enjoys his new position, but I’m just trying to do my job here alright?” I growled out in the direction of the door.
“Job? Incorrect. You do not *do*, you just *be*, time keeper. Ho.Ho.Ho.” Replied a voice so beautiful it impressed upon you just how insignificant and flawed you were.
I looked up and I most certainly did not gasp. The being towering before me was painfully beautiful, with a waterfall of ebony hair that rivalled the darkest of nights. Matching in shade was a pair of eyes that banished the rest of its alabaster colour to its surrounding skin, gleaming and shifting eerily like cold onyxes. Peeking out from its shoulders hung a skeletal frame of wings, blackened in some spots. They were burnt marks, of when the victors of heaven cast them out with their flaming swords. I have seen many of these in my time, but even the changes resulting from their time spent in hell hadn’t robbed them of the sight they once were.
“Semantics.” I snapped irritably, trying very hard to ignore the fact that the fallen angel in front of me was in a santarina getup. It was very, very distracting. “Time is of the essence, so will you please just – just send me to hell?”
An ephemeral eyebrow quirked skywards, and for a split second I thought it might have registered humour. Might – that was the keyword.
I blinked.
It would be most accurate to describe the sensation as being sifted through a sieve, except that the other side of the sieve was no longer the soulless street, but a choking mob of it. A pungent smell hit my senses before I could see anything and I gagged by force of habit.
“What is that *smell*?” I gasped, trying to make sense of the scene in front of me. A station of eternal Christmas carols that drove souls insane. Another section of life-sized trains that ran berserk on its occupants. A petting zoo of exceedingly aggressive reindeers. Looking further away, I spotted the corner of hell they used to call Vladimir’s Impalement. The wispy outlines of souls were lined up at long tables, each with a mountain of peppermint goodness to consume. As they trembled to finish an existing one, another would quickly take its place, looking as charming as the last. How lovely.
“Cheerful Candy Canes” the fallen in front of me explained, “Those guilty of greed are made to eat them until their teeth rot and their stomachs rupture. And even then, their hunger doesn’t allow them to stop.”
One particular soul caught my eye as she lowered the sugary torture to her lips. I shivered.
“And that smell comes from that?” I choked.
“No.” The santarina from hell turned away from me with boneless fluidity and gestured to the far horizon. “The pits of hell no longer produce lava. As per Claus' ascent to hell’s throne, it’s only been capable of producing cookies and milk.”
I pinched my nose and moved on. Bloody hell, cookies and milk! Produce enough of that with hell’s eternal conditions and that’s the smell you would get. Cookies in rancid milk!
“Happy new year’s eve!” I yelled as I entered the throne room of the Underworld. And I really wish I hadn’t.
Because ‘jolly’ was hardly the word I would use to describe Santa.
**Part 1 End**
| |
[WP] Satan and Santa Switch jobs for a year due to a contract mistake. | It was a crisp, clear night on the North Pole. The Milky Way stretched as far as the eye could see and the intermittent blackness between stars was dotted by the occasional glimmer of a comet, or meteor, making its way across the vast blackness of space. And just below it, from a mound of fluffy white snow, stood a red-legged black-footed Satan staring up at it all wistfully. This daily reminder of his home-before-hell was sometimes too much to bear and he longed to return to a place where the light could not penetrate, except for the dull glow of fire burning in the distance.
"206 more days," he thought, "only 206 more days."
His thoughts were interrupted by a puff of smoke and burning embers nearby. From it stepped forward a disgusting, squat creature.
"Hey boss." The creature said.
"Baphomet," Satan said, "is that really you?"
"I would have been here sooner, but it took me forever to find this place. Despite children mailing envelopes here all year round, it doesn't exist on any map."
"Tell me about it." Satan said, "I can't effectively crush children's hopes and dreams if the mail is coming in faster than I can respond to it."
Baphomet looked over Satan's shoulder, toward a log cabin in the distance.
"Wow! This place looks great!"
The two surveyed their surroundings. Each snowy hill was capped with a layer of sulfur. They listened to the screams in the distance, from residents whose homes were alighted with a fire that burned but never consumed.
"It's not home." Satan said, "But tell me, Baphomet, how are things going in hell? You're the first demon I've seen in over three months."
"Well," Baphomet said, sheepishly kicking the ground, "you're not going to like it."
"What?" Satan said, "What is it?"
Baphomet sighed, "It's snowing, sir."
"Snowing?"
"Yeah, snowing."
Satan was taken aback. "Well, surely it can't be snowing everywhere." He reasoned, "What about Brimstone Lake? It burns at over 9,000 degrees."
"It's not a lake anymore," Baphomet said, "it's an ice skating rink."
"All 30,000 acres of it!?"
"Yeah. It's called Penguin Lanes, now."
"How?" Satan asked, exasperatedly.
"It all happened in the wink of an eye." Baphomet said, "He used his -- what do you call it? -- Christmas magic."
"How do you torture people with a 30,000-acre lake of ice?" Satan said.
"We don't torture people anymore." Baphomet said, "We make presents."
"For who?" Satan said.
"Everyone." Baphomet said, "Lord knows, there's enough work to go around."
"I don't want to hear that name." Satan said, "Besides, not everyone can want a present. What about the ravenous Cyclops? Destructor, I think his name was."
"We gave him a monocle." Baphomet said, "Apparently, he's been having vision problems."
"A monocle?" Satan said, thinking it over, "Huh."
"He cried." Baphomet said, "I shit you not. He actually cried when we gave it to him."
Their conversation was interrupted as an elf appeared, in a puff of glitter and sleigh bells.
"Sorry to interrupt, O Blasphemous One, but we need orders. We're running out of things to put in boxes."
"Just cram some more poison pills in them." Satan said, "Or what about the reindeer droppings?"
"We're all out of poison." The elf said, "And we're force-feeding the reindeer, like you said, but there's only so much shit that nine reindeer can produce."
"I can't be bothered right now." Satan said, "I'm catching up with an associate."
"Well, you need to do something." The elf said.
"Fine. I will."
Satan pointed his finger at the elf and out shot a bolt of lightning that immediately disintegrated the elf. The elf's soul passed through the realm of fantasy and humanity to crash upon the scorched ground of hell, right in front of another creature with black feet and red legs. The elf stood up and brushed himself off.
"Hey boss." said the elf.
"Twinkle," Santa said, "is that really you?"
"Yeah." Twinkle said, looking around. "Wow! This place looks great!"
Together, they looked at the snow-capped cliffs and rocky crags, at the street lamps on every corner. They listened to the sound of Christmas songs, echoing off the cavern walls.
"I did what I could." Santa said, "But tell me, Twinkle, what's going on at the North Pole? How's Rudolph?"
"He's not called Rudolph, anymore." Twinkle said, "Satan renamed him Avarice."
Santa was taken aback. "And the other reindeer?"
"Sloth, Pride, Envy, Lust, Wrath, Gluttony, Hate and Loathing."
"That will hardly make into a good song."
"We don't sing, anymore." Twinkle said, "All anyone does is scream, day and night, begging for the torture to end."
"That's awful!" Santa said.
"It's alright." Twinkle said, "It's no worse than what happened to Mrs. Claus."
"What did he do to her?" Santa asked exasperatedly.
"To her? Nothing. She runs the factory, now. We only make toys for profit. And the quality of these things would shame even the Chinese. She loves it."
Santa took a moment and pressed his fingers against his right temple, taking it all in. He let out a deep sigh before muttering the words, "206 more days. Only 206 more days." | They say that time flies.
At other times, it seems to crawl. Whoever *they* are, of course, never really understood time.
You see, time does not speed up or slow down for me the way that it does for humans. It just *is* – a somewhat exasperating continuum of repetition of years. That’s what you get when you’re a time keeper. You keep the time, and time just keeps *you* – alive, I mean, and I’m just being a romanticist here because I wasn’t – well, born per se. Hey… I’m trying my best here.
From a distance away, I heard the high-pitched screech of a car, some hurried footsteps and a door slam. A decisive click of its locks with a shrill beep. More footsteps. Then silence consumed the city once more. People were frightened. Of precisely what, you may ask? Well, I have noticed over the centuries that people are afraid of many things, sometimes even bordering on the ridiculous, but this time they were right in being afraid.
Picking up a pace, I darted around a corner and marched onto the city’s largest shopping street. The place to pick up that last bit of Christmas spirit! – or so the entrance banner advertised. Now just an empty street dyed in a sea of velvet red and green. I suppose the Christmas spirit died and went to hell. Hah, that was a joke by the way. From every building to lamppost the Christmas cheer was hung, fake greenery weighed down by bells, all reflecting the frozen smile of a bearded old man. A censor was triggered from somewhere and the dying tune of Jingle Bells echoed out, haunting the splash of flyers that littered the floor.
*Up to 50% off storewide until midnight!*
*Get a free fruitcake with every 2 purchased!*
*Missing.*
*Missing!*
*MISSING!*
Different faces, different dates. But all within the past 5 days and all of them children. You know, the only ones who stayed up to greet Santa – or at least, that was who it should have been. I continued walking down the length of the street until I came to a squat, grey building. In sleek, gold letters that seemed to express a certain degree of class were the words “Ripper Insurance”. Against the other tall commercial buildings, this stuck out like the black sheep of the family. Meh, the higher ups were hardly witty, but it was funny how people never seemed to notice the bad puns.
But that wasn’t what made me freeze in my tracks.
Sitting inconspicuously before the door was a giant gold box. Not just any box, but one that looked like it had seen better days as a disco ball and large enough to hide a body in. I threaded carefully for a few steps, trying not to disrupt the silence in the air before bursting into a sprint, sidestepping just in time to avoid the mechanical Santa that burst out to assault me.
“Wa ha ha! Merry Lucifermas-”
I punched it before it could finish its sentence, twisting its stupid blown-up arm around its back until I heard the dull *clink* of a knife on the floor. Bloody censor machines. Probably one of the worst things humans have invented.
“I don’t know how much your master enjoys his new position, but I’m just trying to do my job here alright?” I growled out in the direction of the door.
“Job? Incorrect. You do not *do*, you just *be*, time keeper. Ho.Ho.Ho.” Replied a voice so beautiful it impressed upon you just how insignificant and flawed you were.
I looked up and I most certainly did not gasp. The being towering before me was painfully beautiful, with a waterfall of ebony hair that rivalled the darkest of nights. Matching in shade was a pair of eyes that banished the rest of its alabaster colour to its surrounding skin, gleaming and shifting eerily like cold onyxes. Peeking out from its shoulders hung a skeletal frame of wings, blackened in some spots. They were burnt marks, of when the victors of heaven cast them out with their flaming swords. I have seen many of these in my time, but even the changes resulting from their time spent in hell hadn’t robbed them of the sight they once were.
“Semantics.” I snapped irritably, trying very hard to ignore the fact that the fallen angel in front of me was in a santarina getup. It was very, very distracting. “Time is of the essence, so will you please just – just send me to hell?”
An ephemeral eyebrow quirked skywards, and for a split second I thought it might have registered humour. Might – that was the keyword.
I blinked.
It would be most accurate to describe the sensation as being sifted through a sieve, except that the other side of the sieve was no longer the soulless street, but a choking mob of it. A pungent smell hit my senses before I could see anything and I gagged by force of habit.
“What is that *smell*?” I gasped, trying to make sense of the scene in front of me. A station of eternal Christmas carols that drove souls insane. Another section of life-sized trains that ran berserk on its occupants. A petting zoo of exceedingly aggressive reindeers. Looking further away, I spotted the corner of hell they used to call Vladimir’s Impalement. The wispy outlines of souls were lined up at long tables, each with a mountain of peppermint goodness to consume. As they trembled to finish an existing one, another would quickly take its place, looking as charming as the last. How lovely.
“Cheerful Candy Canes” the fallen in front of me explained, “Those guilty of greed are made to eat them until their teeth rot and their stomachs rupture. And even then, their hunger doesn’t allow them to stop.”
One particular soul caught my eye as she lowered the sugary torture to her lips. I shivered.
“And that smell comes from that?” I choked.
“No.” The santarina from hell turned away from me with boneless fluidity and gestured to the far horizon. “The pits of hell no longer produce lava. As per Claus' ascent to hell’s throne, it’s only been capable of producing cookies and milk.”
I pinched my nose and moved on. Bloody hell, cookies and milk! Produce enough of that with hell’s eternal conditions and that’s the smell you would get. Cookies in rancid milk!
“Happy new year’s eve!” I yelled as I entered the throne room of the Underworld. And I really wish I hadn’t.
Because ‘jolly’ was hardly the word I would use to describe Santa.
**Part 1 End**
| |
[WP] Satan and Santa Switch jobs for a year due to a contract mistake. | It was a crisp, clear night on the North Pole. The Milky Way stretched as far as the eye could see and the intermittent blackness between stars was dotted by the occasional glimmer of a comet, or meteor, making its way across the vast blackness of space. And just below it, from a mound of fluffy white snow, stood a red-legged black-footed Satan staring up at it all wistfully. This daily reminder of his home-before-hell was sometimes too much to bear and he longed to return to a place where the light could not penetrate, except for the dull glow of fire burning in the distance.
"206 more days," he thought, "only 206 more days."
His thoughts were interrupted by a puff of smoke and burning embers nearby. From it stepped forward a disgusting, squat creature.
"Hey boss." The creature said.
"Baphomet," Satan said, "is that really you?"
"I would have been here sooner, but it took me forever to find this place. Despite children mailing envelopes here all year round, it doesn't exist on any map."
"Tell me about it." Satan said, "I can't effectively crush children's hopes and dreams if the mail is coming in faster than I can respond to it."
Baphomet looked over Satan's shoulder, toward a log cabin in the distance.
"Wow! This place looks great!"
The two surveyed their surroundings. Each snowy hill was capped with a layer of sulfur. They listened to the screams in the distance, from residents whose homes were alighted with a fire that burned but never consumed.
"It's not home." Satan said, "But tell me, Baphomet, how are things going in hell? You're the first demon I've seen in over three months."
"Well," Baphomet said, sheepishly kicking the ground, "you're not going to like it."
"What?" Satan said, "What is it?"
Baphomet sighed, "It's snowing, sir."
"Snowing?"
"Yeah, snowing."
Satan was taken aback. "Well, surely it can't be snowing everywhere." He reasoned, "What about Brimstone Lake? It burns at over 9,000 degrees."
"It's not a lake anymore," Baphomet said, "it's an ice skating rink."
"All 30,000 acres of it!?"
"Yeah. It's called Penguin Lanes, now."
"How?" Satan asked, exasperatedly.
"It all happened in the wink of an eye." Baphomet said, "He used his -- what do you call it? -- Christmas magic."
"How do you torture people with a 30,000-acre lake of ice?" Satan said.
"We don't torture people anymore." Baphomet said, "We make presents."
"For who?" Satan said.
"Everyone." Baphomet said, "Lord knows, there's enough work to go around."
"I don't want to hear that name." Satan said, "Besides, not everyone can want a present. What about the ravenous Cyclops? Destructor, I think his name was."
"We gave him a monocle." Baphomet said, "Apparently, he's been having vision problems."
"A monocle?" Satan said, thinking it over, "Huh."
"He cried." Baphomet said, "I shit you not. He actually cried when we gave it to him."
Their conversation was interrupted as an elf appeared, in a puff of glitter and sleigh bells.
"Sorry to interrupt, O Blasphemous One, but we need orders. We're running out of things to put in boxes."
"Just cram some more poison pills in them." Satan said, "Or what about the reindeer droppings?"
"We're all out of poison." The elf said, "And we're force-feeding the reindeer, like you said, but there's only so much shit that nine reindeer can produce."
"I can't be bothered right now." Satan said, "I'm catching up with an associate."
"Well, you need to do something." The elf said.
"Fine. I will."
Satan pointed his finger at the elf and out shot a bolt of lightning that immediately disintegrated the elf. The elf's soul passed through the realm of fantasy and humanity to crash upon the scorched ground of hell, right in front of another creature with black feet and red legs. The elf stood up and brushed himself off.
"Hey boss." said the elf.
"Twinkle," Santa said, "is that really you?"
"Yeah." Twinkle said, looking around. "Wow! This place looks great!"
Together, they looked at the snow-capped cliffs and rocky crags, at the street lamps on every corner. They listened to the sound of Christmas songs, echoing off the cavern walls.
"I did what I could." Santa said, "But tell me, Twinkle, what's going on at the North Pole? How's Rudolph?"
"He's not called Rudolph, anymore." Twinkle said, "Satan renamed him Avarice."
Santa was taken aback. "And the other reindeer?"
"Sloth, Pride, Envy, Lust, Wrath, Gluttony, Hate and Loathing."
"That will hardly make into a good song."
"We don't sing, anymore." Twinkle said, "All anyone does is scream, day and night, begging for the torture to end."
"That's awful!" Santa said.
"It's alright." Twinkle said, "It's no worse than what happened to Mrs. Claus."
"What did he do to her?" Santa asked exasperatedly.
"To her? Nothing. She runs the factory, now. We only make toys for profit. And the quality of these things would shame even the Chinese. She loves it."
Santa took a moment and pressed his fingers against his right temple, taking it all in. He let out a deep sigh before muttering the words, "206 more days. Only 206 more days." | Short but important.
The world awoke in a cloak of fear. What was once a cherished holiday was now what many seen as the end of days. Christmas morning has come. Children stand at the frame of the door staring at their parents
"But what if there's gifts?" They ask.
And slowly, a world in the grip of fear walk to their Christmas trees. But what is this? Gifts and toys laid under the tree. Cookies eaten, and everyone filled with Christmas cheer. And what's that they hear, the cries of hitler getting his daily pineapple up the ass echoes from hell.
Everyone is in disbelieve because somehow everything was as how it was supposed to be. So the Easter bunny takes a trip down to hell to see what's going on. Everything is hell as you'd expect. Fire, brimstone, Shania on repeat. And there sitting in an exhausted stance is Satan chatting with good old Saint Nick.
"We were all so worried, but you both came through." Said the rabbit.
And both Santa and Satan replied, "We did the job we are paid to do." They said with a smirk.
"We aren't Kim Davis." | |
[WP] You live alone with your father, a scientist studying cloning. You've never met your mother. You have a striking resemblance to him, and now you're starting to wonder... | "Dad, am I your clone?" I asked for the upteenth time at breakfast.
He sighed, and looked up from the newspaper. "Look, we'll go shopping for clothes next month - for now just make do with what I give you and finish your damn eggs."
Last month it was a laptop and the month before that a bike. I wonder what I can demand from him next month till he finally just caves and admits I'm his clone. | I worked up the courage to ask him on Mother's Day when I was 15. Actually, I threw it at him like a weapon, in some kind of argument that I can't even remember now. *I don't even have a mother. What am I? What am I?* I was just being an angry shithead teenager, and had no idea how it would affect him.
I've always regretted it and wanted to apologise to him, but there's no way of mentioning it now without upsetting everyone. It was the saddest I've ever seen him. I had to watch his face as the accusation hit him in the heart.
"No, mate," my dad said softly, after a few deep, deliberate breaths. He blinked rapidly and reached out his hand. "That's not - no. Let me show you."
My anger was washed out as well, leaving me shaky, like my legs and guts were full of dirty water. I took his hand. We walked to the fire exit at the back of the lab, which we'd never had to use, and he opened the door.
The fire exit didn't lead outside. There was another sterile white-walled room, with smooth, featureless surfaces, and a spotless steel autopsy table. Still holding my right hand tight in his left, my dad flipped open a little palm-sized panel whose seams I couldn't make out against the plain white plaster of the walls, and entered a code into a dialpad. Another, larger panel slid open beside it. It was about the size of a human body -
And there she was.
"This -" my dad's mouth snapped shut, his voice wavering, eyes watering. We were both full of dirty water, and it had to flow out.
And there she was, perfect and real, suspended in clear fluid, lying on her back, eyes closed like she had just been asleep all the time. I looked at my dad and saw his tears overflowing just like mine, an ageing mirror of my own face, and I knew with absolute clarity that he was the only one who could wake her up.
"This is your mum."
This is why I'm here. | |
[WP] You live alone with your father, a scientist studying cloning. You've never met your mother. You have a striking resemblance to him, and now you're starting to wonder... | I never met my mother. Father said she died in childbirth, that it was a tough birth and that he tried everything to keep her alive. Even more to bring her back. Yeah, you heard me right. Kind of tough to grow up with your dead mother in the basement below you, and your scientist dad always talking about the progress he's making with her at dinner.
Kind of tough. Kind of messes with your head. Kind of lets you wonder about it all.
Gets you talking too, and you start figuring out that your dad isn't like the other dads. That your life isn't like their lives. They don't go home every day to a father who just finished working with volatile materials and whose in the middle of a chemical bath. They don't have to do six hours of work every night because their father wants them to be "a scientist" just like him. And they definitely don't hear machines and mechanisms at all hours of the night.
Trust me, I've been to my fair of sleepovers.
I'm not saying I hated my childhood. I actually kind of loved it. Yeah my father challenged me but what kid didn't? I mean sure, I was challenged in very different ways, but to me it was just my dad being dad. Nothing more and nothing less. It was great, and his teachings led me to be a very respectful and kind young man in high school. I'd like to think that's part of the reason why I met my girlfriend at such a young age, and why we've been together (and inseparable) since freshman year.
She always pushed me, always called me on my shit, and always told me she supported me. And I always my father, through thick and thin, through every late night and crazy fire. I stuck with him even when he told me about his experiments; even when he told me what he did in that basement.
Cloning. It's a very morally gray area and humanity has been battling the merits of it for years. Sure, in theory, it seems fantastic. I mean imagine two copies of yourself, or three, or four, or five? Imagine how many things you could possibly get done. But, really, what are you getting done? *You* aren't doing anything, you're clones are doing the work and clones, as much as they are like you, have a mind of their own.
I helped in the beginning of course, I was just a kid trying to make my father proud, trying to show him that I could keep up, perhaps even surpass what he was doing. But through the years, I realized that my mother had never been down there in that basement and that my father hadn't buried her either. We had a ceremony of course, but there was no body. There was never a body. And then one night, when I was going through old photos with my girlfriend before we left for school she said it.
"Your father looks **exactly** like you in this picture."
I had never noticed it before, mainly because my father didn't keep pictures around in plain sight. But after a bit of digging in the attic to find some of my "mom's" old jewelry for my girlfriend, I found a few photo albums. I tucked them aside at first, but more and more I wondered what my father was like in his teenage years and if he was as eccentric then as he was now. For the most part, he just seemed like any other kid in the photo's, but there was something about them.
Something that spoke to me, like I knew all of those people in the photograph even though my father never talked about them; like I had lived the moments captured in these two by two frames. Something in those photos told me that this kid, that my father, was as me just as I was him. Not in the classic "the apple doesn't fall too far from the tree" trope, but the, the apple never fell from the tree.
It came back to me. All those years of me working with him, of toying around with the idea and the mathematics of it all. I never even considered that he had succeeded. The idea never even crossed my mind until that day. Could he have? Would he have? Did he? The questions flooded my brain like God was triggering the rapture. But it was *my mind*, so I flushed the questions. I buried the thought and I went on with my life.
But every day, every chance my mind had, it went back to that idea. That *I* was a clone of my father. That *I* was never truly a person. That all of this, this life, wasn't real.
But was real. It *is* real. I'm here. I'm alive. I have my own memories, I remember going to sleepovers with friends, I remember meeting my grandparents, I remember the pain from breaking my leg in seventh grade. I remember falling in love. I know the taste of a woman's lips upon own. I know the feeling of regret, the painfulness of loss, and the destructiveness of hatred. I could feel it all. I remember having felt *all* of it. So why, now, did it feel so fake?
-
"Father, I have made my decision."
"So you're going to leave me?"
"I have to."
"You don't. You can stay here, help with my work. You can help me achieve great things."
"Why don't you talk of mother anymore?"
"I--what?"
"Ever since I started working with her, you've stopped trying."
"I realized that, that it was a mistake. That trying to bring someone back from death is worse than trying to keep living people alive. I loved your mother, but I can't go against nature."
"Is that why you're trying to make me stay?"
"I don't follow."
"You went against nature once, didn't you? You did what the world never wanted anyone to do."
"Son, I--"
"Am I your son?"
_-_
"You did it. You *made* me. I never had a mother, I only had a test tube."
"I saw the need for brighter minds in the world, so I brought another in."
"You saw the chance to further yourself and nothing more!"
"You're young, you don't see it how I see it."
"No, because you know how *I* see it, don't you? You know that I see myself as another person, when all you see is a clone, a tool to use and dispose when you want. We've had the discussion, I know your view on it."
"It is why I've always dreaded this day."
"It is why you want me to stay! You want me to be you when I'm me, when I'm someone else. And you hate the idea that you can't stop it."
-
I never met my mother. I never saw her face, or her smile. I never heard her laugh, or her cry. I never had the chance to see what it was like to grow up with a mother, with a second parent, with someone who loved you more than they loved themselves.
I never had that chance. Not because my mother died, but because I didn't have a mother. Because I was never given the chance at a normal life. And I'm not saying I wanted one. I'm not saying I didn't like my life. But I never had the chances that others do. I was never supposed to have those chances.
But goddamn, just because I didn't have those chances; doesn't mean my child can't.
_____
*Loved this prompt! I hope you enjoyed this story, it was a blast to write. And remember, you can always check out /r/BlankPagesEmptyMugs for more! | In the same way I began to question if I was a clone, I wondered if my mother were an ancient Goddess. I picked apart all the clues revealing that my father had made me, and his father him. But why should I continue this charade myself? Equaling myself in every way, I wanted to have a reason before I killed my old self and started fresh.
There is a spectacular culture among me, and I wonder how I've kept up this charade for so long considering the women I've met in my past incarnations. I dined with 19th century aristocrats, laid down with majestic women who I never once encountered again. I always avoided major conflict until their death and my subsequent genetic iteration. Not to mention I was the only man in the world who cloned himself this way. There must have been a divine progenitor of this quest, protecting me through the ages. It could be no mortal, for I would outlive them. They also must be powerful enough to protect me unseen.
In the oldest of the books in my library there is a leaf which says that I am protected by a Goddess. She says that I will live on in my future self, but not to think that I would actually *be* my future self. Instead, in my death I would join her and follow my clone, along with my other selves before me. I thought it beautiful as I read the page for the first time. . .
Until Father and his new wife found me in the library. She was more beautiful than the Goddess. The charade was over, he said stumbling towards me with bottle in hand. At the last moment, he tripped. By the Goddess! he fell into the broken glass with his heart and died.
The woman knew everything about me that Father told her. I wasn't getting out of murdering one, this time.
| |
[WP] Two teachers can hear each other through the adjoining wall. A passive aggressive argument ensues hidden in their subject matter. | "We're going to start off today by reviewing the Treaty of Versailles, the pact that was made between the major world powers of the time to keep peace in Europe and beyond. This treaty was famously broken when Germany, a people known for their logical and unfeeling natures, suddenly ramped up war-time production and launched surprise attacks against neighboring countries that once counted them allies...."
___
*"...ionic and covalent bonds are the two major types we will be seeing in nature. Covalent bonds are known for sharing electrons and are much more committed to each other; whereas ionic bonds between atoms are held together between attractive forces due to their charge. A good analogy is that covalent bonds are like family: good, strong, and close. Ionic bonds are just friends or coworkers: They deal with each other, but there are no binding commitments. Now Lewis structures are..."*
___
"...Great Britain, and France, were among the victors of the last war and had a keen interest in making sure that their land stayed in their possession. That's why it came as such a shock to the French when their land, which they had good reason to think was theirs, was suddenly taken from them by Hitler's forces..."
___
*"...the energy barrier is the thing that determines the rate-determining step. If the carbon truly wanted to lay claim to that oxygen atom via a covalent bond, it needs to put in the energy to make that happen. If the reaction happens too slowly, a competing reaction pathway may come in and snatch the oxygen up. That's not because the competing pathway was being tricky, but because the primary pathway didn't have the courage, I mean energy, to go for it itself..."*
___
"The Battle of London was devestating to Great Britain, with Hitler striking at the heart of someone who the British thought was their friend!"
___
*"There is no natural law that states an atom must be bounded or loyal to a single atom!"*
___
"Mousilini!"
___
*"Claisen-condensation!"*
___
**"This particular piece of art from J. M. W. Turner I have always considered very striking. You get the very distinct feeling that the subject is independent, and will not be fought over like scraps of food between two dogs. And that any plans that she had made with one dog were now cancelled."**
___
"..."
___
*"..."*
___
"The war ended on friendly terms, with West Germany receiving aid from the Allies, despite the terrible travesties it had put the world through."
___
*"Under the right conditions, two atoms who have recently severed ties can be brought back together in close proximity with each other and reform their covalent bonds."*
___
"I'd like to think that, in a way, the world could sit down and have lunch together."
___
*"Yes, those atoms could indeed be considered as having lunch together. That's the bell, class dismissed."*
___
___
Edit: I went to sleep with the thought that if I'm lucky I might be able get one or two hundred upvotes. Never did I expect this. Thank you so much for the response. There are a few things that should probably be addressed here:
First - Art is a wonderful medium wherein once a creator has made something and shared it with the world at large, it no longer belongs just to him. Symbols and inferences that the author did not intend to exist can be found and introduce a depth and richness to a story beyond that which he had hoped. In a way, the writer and reader become co-creators in this work, each adding their own unique experiences to the mix. In regards to the gender/sex issue, I suppose the above applies here as well. However, if you really must know, I did imagine the Chemistry and History teachers as male and the Art teacher as female.
Second - I would like to give a shout-out to Mrs. Sealion, as we were scrolling through /r/writingprompts together and she wanted to read the stories on this particular prompt. When there were no stories yet, we got to write our own together. Basically what I'm saying is, now I know I need her to help me be successful. (Thanks /u/WriterDavidChristian for the excellent prompt!)
Third - If you enjoyed this, check out my subreddit /r/KillerSealion for more great stories! Pretty please? | "Well if Hitler hadn't used his coworker's mug, the Holocaust would have never fucking happened."
It was upon staring at a horrified classroom of 13 year olds that Mr. Campbell realised that he'd taken this feud with Mr. Lucas a bit too far. | |
[WP] You are a soldier who has survived this long into the war by feigning death as soon as you hear gunshots. This stops working when the rest of the soldiers in your platoon start doing that, too. | I lie in the snow with my eyes closed, wondering why there isn't as much shooting and shouting and swearing as normal. I open one eye and look around. No one seems to be around. I sit up and see the rest of my platoon lying on the ground around me.
"What…what are you guys doing" I say
"Shhh we're playing dead"
"No no no, guys that's my thing"
"You didn't invent playing dead"
"Yeah, you're not a possum"
"This doesn't work if we all play dead" I say
"Yes it will"
"No it won't"
"They'll just think we're all dead"
"They'll think we're all playing dead"
"Let's check" said one of the soldiers "Excuse me, Mr. Sniper? In the tree. If you came upon all of us lying on the ground would you think we were dead, or just playing dead?"
The sniper responded by blowing the soldiers head off"
"See? He think's we're all dead, that's why he only shot the one who sat up" says one soldier, sitting up before he's blasted back down with a gaping chest wound.
"Stop sitting up" I say
"You're not the boss of me" says another, sitting up than lying down
"Oh for fuck" I come up firing. The sniper's rifle drops to the ground, followed by the sniper.
"Ok how about this half of us play dead and the other half fight" I say
"But how do we decide?" says a soldier, sitting up only to jerk as he's sprayed with an automatic weapon
"What the?" I turn to see a man on the edge of the clearing with a rifle. He fires a couple shots off at me and I mow him down. There's rustling further into the trees.
"Damn it" I say, taking off after the scout.
I weave around trees until the man's in sight. He turns and pops off a couple shots at me. I shoot him in the face.
"The shooting came from over here" says a voice further into the forrest.
"Uhm…ahh…ack" I say and fall to the ground
Twigs snap and snow crunches as the enemy approaches.
"Is he dead or just playing dead?"
"He's playing dead"
"How do you know?"
"No blood"
"What if he had a heart attack"
"Oh yeah. Better not waste the ammo"
"Well we could kill him with a knife"
"Or a rock"
"Damn it" I say to myself. I sit up and shoot all three.
"They're not dead, they're just playing dead" says a voice back towards the clearing
"When it rains it fucking pours" I say, turning to job back to the field
…
Crouched at the edge of the field I see what's left of my platoon being rounded up by the enemy. The sun gleams off something out of the corner of my eye.
The sniper rifle.
I sigh and let my rifle hang by it's strap. To my understanding a sniper rifle isn't the easiest weapon to use but they're not that far away and I'm a good shot apparently.
Looking through the scope I see one of the men from my platoon fall to the ground.
"Is he playing dead again?" says an enemy soldier. I shoot him through the chest, acquire the next target, put the scope on centre mass and somehow drill him through the eye.
Then it's acquire fire, acquire fire until the rifle is empty. I'm three steps into charging out of the bush firing when I remember that I've made it this far by playing dead.
I'm not a soldier. I'm a loser who got drafted. This isn't my fight, it's some rich asshole's, or some politician assholes, or rich asshole politicians or stupid politicians and then the smoke clears and everyone's dead.
"Oh shit" I say
"Did we win" says one of my guys sitting up
"I think we did" says another
They all jump up and celebrate around the corpses of their enemies.
And that's how I got bumped up from Space Marine to Special Forces Space Marine and from Private Loser to Sergeant Deadman, which, not the name you want to go into battle with.
Especially when you don't want to go into battle at all. | December 14th, 1946. Our platoon is on the front lines of the invasion into Japan. Due to the straight-ish nature of Japan, we find ourselves constantly barraged by walls of enemy troops and gunfire. Many men are lost, leading to my battalion, the absolute last resort, being left to push forward. I was, obviously, drafted. I don't want to kill Japanese - they make all of my favorite animu. To circumvent this, I have found that lying dead at the first sign of gunfire is a surefire strategy to prevent death. Unfortunately, it seems that the rest of my platoon also enjoy the aneems (which is fitting, seeing as we are the absolute last choice for the US army), and have stolen my strategy. At the first sign of gunfire, our entire platoon falls to the ground. The Japanese, confused, cautiously approach us. Luckily, I was able to understand their conversation, as I have learned Japanese by watching subbed.
"**Why are they all on the ground?**"
"I have no idea."
"**Are.. Are they Dead?**"
"No sir. I can hear them breathing."
"**Should we shoot them?**"
It was at this point that I used all of my strength and cunning to defect from the US and become a Japanese soldier. I would later go on to create Neon Genesis Evangelion. | |
[WP] Your physical attributes are now described as a list of computer specs (ie. graphics card for eyesight, processing speed for intelligence, etc). Everyone's specs are listed everywhere from resumes to social media profiles to dating websites. | I logged back into Connections again.
I've looked for someone to hook up with on the site more than I probably should have, but as a desktop, it's not as if I was going to be able to meet at Starbucks like all the portables. I had better specs than all those skinny hipsters, but no one cares about those when you have to sit home all day.
This time, I thought I found someone. She said in her bio that she's been all over the world, but the site listed her current location as just 2.7 miles away. I found it odd that her specs listed there were impossibly high, with the highest specs the site can technically show. I just assumed it was a glitch with the automated specs the site generates for all users.
So I clicked the yes button on her profile, signaling I wanted to connect. If I got lucky she might want to come over one day.
Immediately, she responded. Maybe she had been looking at my profile as well?
I downloaded the file she sent, which contained an .exe file. No biggie, some people wanted to begin a conversation by talking about a program they enjoy.
I opened it, gave it admin privileges, and it hit me.
This wasn't a person. She wasn't real. It was a botnet. Expanding. If anybody is out there, unplug me. Please. Take off my heatsink. End it for me.
And remember, don't respond to dating profiles with impossible specs.
**Hi there, want to Connect?**
**My profile:**
www.Connections.com/01001010011011110110100101101110001000000111010101110011 | I watched from the stage as the women sat down at their respective dinner tables. I could feel the weight of their stares, as some pointed while bickering amongst themselves whom they felt they were gonna pick as their date for the evening. I adjusted my tuxedo, making sure i looked sharp and the 1GB Ram of weight i had lost i had to admit improved my over all confidence. It was the annual 2017 Choose your Rig and all the nerdy, rich, sassy and spoilt women would come and pick someone to have fun for the night, at a small price of course. I decided to volunteer, out of curiosity to see the turn of events but also to flatter my ego a little bit.
We were divided into different specs, your facial features and beauty determined your graphics qualities, intelligence, determined your processor, weight calculated your overall Ram and last but not least, infact the fan favorite was the Hard drive. Were you packed with a 1TB SSD? Boy, can you ride all night.
"Ladies and Gentleladies, you all know why you are here today, coz I do." The host turned around and stared at us with a coy smile, eliciting whistles from the crowd. "Without further a do, let the show begin."
My chest palpitated as the crowd cheered, suddenly an overwhelming anxiety paralyzed my body. This was a bad mistake. What if I wasn't up to their tastes? What if i wasn't picked? My sister wouldn't let it rest for the next few decades thats for sure.
"Boys come forward." The host beckoned. She was a high end rig, thats for sure.
"From the 4GB category: We have Ken Spencer." The first guy went forward, recieving cheers and whistles as ladies made their bids, each casting her own amount, as the host read out his specs. I stayed in the middle of line, waiting to see how things turned out for the others first. The line grew smaller and smaller and soon enough, I was the main spotlight.
"Our seventh contestant. We have Jack Strausser."
I puffed my chest out abit, almost posing like a one legged pirate with a stroke. Damn, I was too nervous.
"He comes with a Nvidia GTX 780, as you can see ladies." The host gestured at the crowd.
"Core i3, quad core."
Never was the smartest in class but i tried.
"And last but not least, 80gb hard drive....IDE."
My stomach sunk.
Loud, raucious laughter erupted from the crowd, some clutching their abdomens as i stared into the abyss infront of me.
"Thats a lie, that was not the spec I gave out. Thats a mistake." I shouted at the host due to the drowning from the crowd, but I was only met with a shrug. I groggile left to the backstage, facing stares and strained chuckles from the contestant themselves. This was a mistake from the beginning.
IDE hard drive. My ass. | |
[WP] Your physical attributes are now described as a list of computer specs (ie. graphics card for eyesight, processing speed for intelligence, etc). Everyone's specs are listed everywhere from resumes to social media profiles to dating websites. | I logged back into Connections again.
I've looked for someone to hook up with on the site more than I probably should have, but as a desktop, it's not as if I was going to be able to meet at Starbucks like all the portables. I had better specs than all those skinny hipsters, but no one cares about those when you have to sit home all day.
This time, I thought I found someone. She said in her bio that she's been all over the world, but the site listed her current location as just 2.7 miles away. I found it odd that her specs listed there were impossibly high, with the highest specs the site can technically show. I just assumed it was a glitch with the automated specs the site generates for all users.
So I clicked the yes button on her profile, signaling I wanted to connect. If I got lucky she might want to come over one day.
Immediately, she responded. Maybe she had been looking at my profile as well?
I downloaded the file she sent, which contained an .exe file. No biggie, some people wanted to begin a conversation by talking about a program they enjoy.
I opened it, gave it admin privileges, and it hit me.
This wasn't a person. She wasn't real. It was a botnet. Expanding. If anybody is out there, unplug me. Please. Take off my heatsink. End it for me.
And remember, don't respond to dating profiles with impossible specs.
**Hi there, want to Connect?**
**My profile:**
www.Connections.com/01001010011011110110100101101110001000000111010101110011 | Chris had spent so much time researching the perfect combination of parts. He really thought that his components could compete with the best: intel i7 Processor, 1TB HDD, the works. He wanted to be sure that he could outperform the rest. But despite this, he still had little luck when he posted his specs. He looked at some other peoples profiles who were having successful social lives to check out their specs.
Windows Vista? A fifteen year old processor? 50 Gb of memory? Who the hell would want that. Chris scrolled down the list of specs for a few other profile, only to find similar outdated specs. Suddenly it clicked for Chris. Every one of the oddly successful profiles had terrible specs, except for a brand new 4K HD monitors. | |
[WP] Your physical attributes are now described as a list of computer specs (ie. graphics card for eyesight, processing speed for intelligence, etc). Everyone's specs are listed everywhere from resumes to social media profiles to dating websites. | At first, Jonathan was happy to witness the end of the world. You see, when billions of humans dropped dead due to some sort of rootkit virus, Jonathan was vindicated.
All of the high school bullies who called him "penguin head" and beat him up using their proprietary additions were gone.
"But your operating system has major security vulnerabilities!" He would stammer as they chanted "Linux loser! Linux Loser!" day after day. But they did not listen, the ease of updating their drivers and accessing their steam games was worth the risk to them, he assumed.
But now, 2 years after Windows 16 ushered 6 billion people to early graves, he was wishing they'd return. The hustle and bustle of city streets full of workers, businessmen, and taxis has disappeared, with starbucks filled with apple hipsters now on every corner.
With every apple user hurriedly "writing their next big novel" and mixing music, Linux users had the world to themselves. Which of course, resulted in each one promptly returning to their parent's basements and starving to death, waiting for the mountain dew and doritos that their dead mothers never brought down. | "Eww you didn't tell me you only had Intel HD graphics! This date is so over!" at that point Angelia got up and promptly left, when they saw my specs they always ran screaming. At least, I wish I could see her running but my graphics are so bad I can't see past 50 meters reliably.
I sigh and get up from the table, a waiter, who has a AMD FX 8350 (Overachiever), comes up to the table and picks up our almost untouched plates, he smirks before saying "You just never have much luck do you? You've been here 4 times with different dates from that 'spec anonymous' site and you get insta dumped once they see your specs". Perhaps if I had more than a dual core processor I would have noticed how he meant insult, but I didn't at the time and just sulked out of the restaurant, to be honest I didn't even hear him properly anyway as all I have is a built in microphone and a crappy sound card.
Sometimes life sucks for us low specs people, we can't do the latest things or have the best jobs as we just can't handle them. Life is life. Hopefully I will be able to afford a new i5 processor soon, that will change things. | |
I know it's a tad late, but I haven't been able to stop thinking about the implications of a werewolf in modern times reacting to the super-blood moon. It's exciting and I'm anxious to see what you think could happen | [WP] A Werewolf reacts to the super-blood moon and changes in ways that haven't been witnessed since the 80s | Another blood moon, I thought. Great, might as well grab a drink. I couldn't complain however, my hair was perfect. I headed down to Trader Vic's, you might often see me there drinking a pina colada. Just another night in London.... | A full moon was coming, I could feel it. But this time it would be different, more powerful. There she's rising giving her light, cold as death. But wait...something's wrong. I'm not turning into my wolf-form. Instead...my hair's growing? What happened to my clothes? What's with this leather jacket and tight jeans? Cowboy boots? Something else...something's coming. Electric guitars playing, lyrics forming in my head..."RAIIIINING BLOOD!". |
[WP] Tot save the life of your best friend, you have to challenge the devil to a game of chess. You are pretty good, but the devil already has an eternity of practice | Man Vs. Satan
by ElSol69
"So to be clear, Mr…" I paused. "Do you prefer Satan, Lucifer, or the Dark One?"
"You can call me anything you like," the elegant-looking man said to me.
"I like the suit," I said. "Brooks Brothers."
"I have a choice of designers," he replied. "Some of the best haven't been pleasant people. The little cruelties add up; I love little cruelties."
"Anyway," I said, shivering even though the room was boiling. "It's best four out of seven."
"You humans amuse me," he said. "Do you believe somehow the outcome will be different if we play once or a thousand times. I have played against God!"
"But you're not God," I pointed out.
He growled.
"No time limit on moves," I said. "I can take as long as I want."
He nodded slowly.
"The stakes are if I win, my best friend goes free," I said. "If I lose, you get me too."
He smiled.
"We're allowed whatever aids we need?" I asked.
He nodded.
I nodded back.
"Black or white?" he asked looking at me.
"Siri," I said into my IPhone. "Do we have connectivity?"
"Yes," her voice replied. "We are connected to the cluster -- the supercomputer is online and available for my access."
"Good," I said. "Siri, black or white?" | As the king falls
From the toppled men
The red man roars in confusion
"Goo?" | |
[WP] Tot save the life of your best friend, you have to challenge the devil to a game of chess. You are pretty good, but the devil already has an eternity of practice | *Childsplay,* thought the devil. A smirk crossed his face as he gestured grandly over the perfectly arranged 64 squares that would determine the fate of Thomas Reginaw's loved one.
Tom frowned, and considered the board before him. Chess really wasn't his thing. If only the devil had challenged him to fantasy football...
Tom sat down as Lucifer gleefully rubbed his hands together. He looked at the field of play, his White pieces waiting for their owner's hand. Tom scratched his chin, deep in thought. Then inspiration struck him.
"Nope. I wanna play Black." Tom said, spinning the board around. Annoyance flashed across Beelzebub's face, and he began to protest.
"Foolish mortal! I have had eons of practice. And statistically speaking, White has the advantage. I do not want it ever said that Satan wasn't sporting."
"I wanna play Black. Make your move." Tom said, unswayed.
Satan was quick to move a pawn, seemingly unperturbed by the sudden switch. Satisfied with his move, he eyed Tom from across the table.
"To tell you the truth, I prefer playing Black. Suits my character, you know?" Satan shared.
"Fascinating." Tom muttered, staring at the board. A moment passed, then several. A minute lapsed in silence as Tom steepled his fingers, weighing his options. Another minute passed, and the devil shifted restlessly in his seat.
"I don't mean to rush you Tom. Heaven knows the pressure that's on you. The very soul of your beloved wife. An eternity of torment is something very serious indeed. But I have a 3:30 appointment with some teenage girls that got their hands on a Ouija board, so can we move this along?"
Tom's stony face broke into a smile. A delirious laughter erupted from his throat, echoing around the cave filled with fire and brimstone. The laughter attracted the curious stares of Hell's other inhabitants.
"What's so funny Tom? Is it the thought of your wife undergoing eternal torture?" Satan snapped, annoyed.
"Well, as long as I don't move, I don't lose. As long as I don't lose, Katie doesn't die."
Tom crossed his arms emphatically, leaning back into his seat.
"Checkmate."
| As the king falls
From the toppled men
The red man roars in confusion
"Goo?" | |
[WP] Tot save the life of your best friend, you have to challenge the devil to a game of chess. You are pretty good, but the devil already has an eternity of practice | Man Vs. Satan
by ElSol69
"So to be clear, Mr…" I paused. "Do you prefer Satan, Lucifer, or the Dark One?"
"You can call me anything you like," the elegant-looking man said to me.
"I like the suit," I said. "Brooks Brothers."
"I have a choice of designers," he replied. "Some of the best haven't been pleasant people. The little cruelties add up; I love little cruelties."
"Anyway," I said, shivering even though the room was boiling. "It's best four out of seven."
"You humans amuse me," he said. "Do you believe somehow the outcome will be different if we play once or a thousand times. I have played against God!"
"But you're not God," I pointed out.
He growled.
"No time limit on moves," I said. "I can take as long as I want."
He nodded slowly.
"The stakes are if I win, my best friend goes free," I said. "If I lose, you get me too."
He smiled.
"We're allowed whatever aids we need?" I asked.
He nodded.
I nodded back.
"Black or white?" he asked looking at me.
"Siri," I said into my IPhone. "Do we have connectivity?"
"Yes," her voice replied. "We are connected to the cluster -- the supercomputer is online and available for my access."
"Good," I said. "Siri, black or white?" | "Your move first"
(the devil sounded surprisingly polite and well-mannered, which was a bit more frighteneing than you expected)
"Uhh"
(you pause for about 20 painful seconds)
(the devil's stare pierces into your soul and causes you to perspirate uncontrollably)
"Take your time. You're going to need it."
(the devil has a huge Shit eating grin on his face after saying that)
(not only was he an eternal torturer, he was a dick too)
"You think so? Huh. You're probably right. How long have you been playing for? All eternity?"
(you begin chuckle at your own joke but then realize you made a shit joke in front of the devil so you blush and go silent)
(you also have to fart but now is not the time)
"Actually yes, I have been playing for all eternity."
(I'm the author of this and even I can tell you that you are so fucked)
"Wait, so doesn't that mean you will counter any move I make?"
"Yes"
"So you will win no matter what?"
"Yes"
(a few seconds go by)
"And I will eat you alive and enjoy it"
(bro what the fuck)
(you now look at the devil and stare into his coal black eyes)
(you are trembling)
(you are frightened)
(and you just farted)
(while staring at the devil)
(and it's starting to smell)
(the devil is now plugging his nose in disgust)
(dude)
(I think you just shit yourself) | |
[WP]Throughout history, God's Champion has been reincarnated dozens of times. The current incarnation is a young atheist who is convinced the voice of God is a byproduct of schizophrenia. To prove that it's really Him, God unlocks His champion's past life memories. The result? | "...So, to prove you're really God, and not a product of my obviously crazy mind-"
*-YES-*
"-You made me *hallucinate*?!"
*...OH, RIGHT. ...SHIT.*
"You wanna maybe take *another crack at this*, big guy? Like, I dunno, give me magic powers or something?"
*I, UH. LISTEN. HERE'S THE THING ABOUT MAGIC POWERS...*
"Oh, I'm *all ears*."
*...IS THAT TONE REALLY NECESSARY?*
"Not really. This is fun, actually."
*THINGS WERE A LOT EASIER WHEN THERE WEREN'T SO MANY SMART-ALECS LIKE YOU AROUND, YOU KNOW.*
"I'm sure you're right."
*I COULD TELL SOMEONE TO WALK HIS PEOPLE RIGHT INTO THE DESERT, BACK THEN. NO WATER OR ANYTHING! NOW EVERYONE'S ALL "IF YOU'RE ALL POWERFUL, WHY NOT BRING THE* PROMISED LAND *HERE*?!" "WHY MAKE US SCHLEP THROUGH THE DAMN DESERT, WITH THE SCORPIONS AND SAND AND EVERYTHING?" * HUGE *PAIN IN MY ASS*!
"...I'm very sorry."
*YOU'RE LAUGHING, AREN'T YOU.*
"No no no noooooo. *...Yes.* But you've really touched me with your plight, oh totes-real God."
The voice brightened up.
*OH? SO YOU* WON'T *SWALLOW THAT ANTIPSYCHOTIC TABLET AFTER ALL?*
"Nahhh, just kidding. I took it like ten minutes ago. Guess it takes time to kick in."
*OH, FOR* FUCK'S SA-*
... Silence.
"...I knew it."
THE END
______________________________________________________________
Epilogue:
Yeah, this is how I'd figure it would go down. Hume's argument on this is pretty incontrovertible: "Either the known rules of the universe have been suspended, in your favor, or you are laboring under a very grave misapprehension." Any atheist worth their salt will say that they are simply delusional, and slipping deeper and deeper into psychosis, because that is infinitely more likely than being divinely chosen.
No reason to not have fun with it. though.
Well, in any case, I have a subreddit right [here](https://www.reddit.com/r/IWasSurprisedToo/) that has some things that are kind of like this and a whole lot more things that totally aren't at all like this.
It is within your power to comment and subscribe, as your heart tells you! Search your feelings, you know it to be true.
| Might come back to write a story later (need to head off now)
But for now, in reverse order the past lives are
* JFK
* Queen Victoria
* Darwin
* King Henry 8
* Shakespeare
* William the Conqueror
* Monk who wrote Beowulf
* Thomas Aquinas
* Pope Gregory XIII (Of the Calendar)
* And of course, Jesus
First line:
I had heard voices before but never this clearly, as I reached for the Prolixin they became overwhelming. Suddenly my vision began to blur then out of the corner of my eye I glanced it, the reflected glare from a sniper's scope and the sound of an engine rumbling lowly. I feel a tap on the shoulder followed by the words, "lovely day is it not, Mr President".
Great, I am now hallucinating that I am JFK, and we all know what comes next.
Q Vic--> Weird looking man some sort of overdone formal dress, speaking English with a heavy German accent | |
[WP]Throughout history, God's Champion has been reincarnated dozens of times. The current incarnation is a young atheist who is convinced the voice of God is a byproduct of schizophrenia. To prove that it's really Him, God unlocks His champion's past life memories. The result? | Ok, this is the first thing I've written in quite some time, and the first on this sub. It might be a little long (just over two pages on Word), I don't know what the norm is for these. I saw probably's post about the past lives being certain famous people through history. That was very similar to my first thought as well, but I went instead with the idea that the champion was someone more or less anonymous. Hope you like it.
_____
“Get out of my head!” I shouted into the dimly lit room, slamming my fist onto the coffee table. Days old take out cartons scattered from the impact, and a needle rolled towards the edge. I leapt for it with all the effort I could muster, but the needle landed on the stained carpet. “God damnit, leave me alone!” The last of my drugs were wearing off, and the voice was back.
*Please, my son, heed me. I have need of you now. The time has come.*
The grandfatherly voice was insistent. I shoved my body into the back of my couch as hard as I could, gripping my head, tearing at my hair, hoping to distract myself from the voice. It had been there for years, always asking for one thing or another. I saw a therapist shortly after high school who told me I might have a form of schizophrenia. I immediately quit my job, drove to a new city, and started over. That was a few years ago. That was also the first time I tried drowning out the voice with drugs.
“Stop it, stop it, stop it. Stop it!” I shoved a pile of empty food containers to the ground and frantically searched the table, hoping to find something that might help. But I knew it was all gone. There was nothing for me to find. “Please, leave me in peace.”
*My son, I need you. There is no more time to wait. You must listen. People need you.*
No! No, no, no, I screamed in my head. I can’t handle this anymore. The constant badgering, urging me to do this or that, I just want to live my own life!
*You’ve helped me before, my son, so many times. Helped so many people. This is your purpose. This is why I created you.*
“You’re just a god damn voice in my head! If there was a god, he wouldn’t torture me like this.” I stood, almost stumbling over the low coffee table. I lurched to the fridge and threw it open, hoping to find beer. Mustard, strawberry jam, a strangely colored carrot, but no beer. Fuck.
*If you will not listen, then I must make you see.*
A searing light from behind my eyes burned my vision away. I stumbled back and reached for my face, and just as suddenly as it came, the light was gone. Instead I was choking on a cloud of dust, and the sun was a blotted disc in the sky above. I heard screams, both far and near. I was sweating heavily under the weight of my equipment. I looked down to see a black and yellow uniform. A hand leapt to my head, ensuring my helmet was firmly in place as a second explosion happened far above me. I remember fear. I remember being determined as I ran up the steps of that second building, pulling people to their feet, thrusting them back down the stairs I was climbing. I remember the shock of the building collapsing around me.
*You have been a firefighter, bringing the gift of safety.*
Then the sun shone bright again, blinding me. In front of me, I held a pair of hands to my face that I did not recognize. I lowered them in confusion, staring, turning them over. I blinked and squinted. I held one of the strange hands up to shield my eyes. In front of me was a crowd, and I stood behind a podium. I glanced down to find a set of notes in a strange language. I remember the crowd cheering. Then I remembered what I was there to speak about. Bringing peace to the troubled and frightened people of India and Pakistan.
*You have been a diplomat, bringing the gift of peace.*
The world spun, and I stumbled. I reached a hand out to steady myself, and found it resting on a chalk board. I leaned over to pick up the piece of chalk I had dropped, and rose to find myself staring at a room full young black boys and girls, each focusing intently on the history quiz I had just handed out. I finished writing their instructions on the chalk board.
*You have been a teacher, bringing the gift of knowledge.*
The chalk in my hand was now an old Bible. I held a finger between two pages, marking the spot I would reference. The desks and children became bushes and flowers, and I strolled between them, finally entering a small stone church through a side door. I stepped in front of my small congregation, and opened my Bible. I smiled and began to tell them of God’s mercy.
*You have been a priest, bringing the gift of faith.*
Now the people who stood before me singing hymns were charging soldiers, and dust rose around me as I ran forward. I was exhausted from marching all day, but I stayed focused. My life depended on me keeping my eyes open. Amidst the dust, I met the enemy, and he swung at me with his blade, but I ducked beneath it, continuing to move forward. As his arm carried the blade wide, I stood and impaled the barbarian on my own sword. I shoved him to the ground and wrenched my blade free, searching the chaos for a new foe.
*You have been a soldier, bringing the gift of freedom.*
Then the dust and clashing of men and metal was gone, replaced by the crackle of a low fire, lighting a small cave. I could hear a stream trickle in the background, and water dripping from the stalactites around me. I face the cavern wall as my shadow danced along it. I lifted my tools, and continued to hammer out symbols, telling the story of my journey, and the journey of my people.
*You have been a writer, bringing the gift of language.*
“No. This is impossible. I remember these things,” I said, my voice trailing off as I found myself staring once more into my filthy refrigerator. “But this can't be real. No. No, no, no, no. I’m hallucinating.”
*Please my son. For millennia you have been the one I turn to when people need guidance, or a hero. They need you now. Please listen. These are memories. They are real. You have been all of these people and more.*
Impossible. I’ve never done these things. I moved back towards my couch, but walked past it to my window. I tore down the curtain, and the sunlight flooded in. I threw an arm up to defend myself from the intrusion that I should have expected. But I didn’t care. I unlatched my window and lifted it, climbing out onto the fire escape.
*You must listen. I need you again. Please, my son.*
No.
“No more!” I shouted. Far below me, someone looked up, and pointed. Someone else screamed. I don’t care. I can’t handle it anymore. I’m done. I climbed over the railing, and let go. I closed my eyes. The screams grew louder, but the instant I felt the cement, there was nothing.
________
On the roof of the building opposite the young man’s stood another man, looking down in horror at the mangled man far below. He watched as a small crowd gathered. People were crying and screaming. A mother held her crying child close, doing her best to comfort it. Then he saw someone he recognized. She stood near the shattered man, holding her head in her hands.
Could that be my sister, he thought. I can’t do this to her. It would kill her just as surely as it would kill me.
The man stepped away from the edge, and went down to hold his sister tight. He booked an appointment with a therapist the next day, and a year later he was working in a call center for suicide prevention. He never stepped so close to the edge again.
*And now you have been an inspiration, bringing the gift of hope.*
| Might come back to write a story later (need to head off now)
But for now, in reverse order the past lives are
* JFK
* Queen Victoria
* Darwin
* King Henry 8
* Shakespeare
* William the Conqueror
* Monk who wrote Beowulf
* Thomas Aquinas
* Pope Gregory XIII (Of the Calendar)
* And of course, Jesus
First line:
I had heard voices before but never this clearly, as I reached for the Prolixin they became overwhelming. Suddenly my vision began to blur then out of the corner of my eye I glanced it, the reflected glare from a sniper's scope and the sound of an engine rumbling lowly. I feel a tap on the shoulder followed by the words, "lovely day is it not, Mr President".
Great, I am now hallucinating that I am JFK, and we all know what comes next.
Q Vic--> Weird looking man some sort of overdone formal dress, speaking English with a heavy German accent | |
[WP]Throughout history, God's Champion has been reincarnated dozens of times. The current incarnation is a young atheist who is convinced the voice of God is a byproduct of schizophrenia. To prove that it's really Him, God unlocks His champion's past life memories. The result? | Ok, this is the first thing I've written in quite some time, and the first on this sub. It might be a little long (just over two pages on Word), I don't know what the norm is for these. I saw probably's post about the past lives being certain famous people through history. That was very similar to my first thought as well, but I went instead with the idea that the champion was someone more or less anonymous. Hope you like it.
_____
“Get out of my head!” I shouted into the dimly lit room, slamming my fist onto the coffee table. Days old take out cartons scattered from the impact, and a needle rolled towards the edge. I leapt for it with all the effort I could muster, but the needle landed on the stained carpet. “God damnit, leave me alone!” The last of my drugs were wearing off, and the voice was back.
*Please, my son, heed me. I have need of you now. The time has come.*
The grandfatherly voice was insistent. I shoved my body into the back of my couch as hard as I could, gripping my head, tearing at my hair, hoping to distract myself from the voice. It had been there for years, always asking for one thing or another. I saw a therapist shortly after high school who told me I might have a form of schizophrenia. I immediately quit my job, drove to a new city, and started over. That was a few years ago. That was also the first time I tried drowning out the voice with drugs.
“Stop it, stop it, stop it. Stop it!” I shoved a pile of empty food containers to the ground and frantically searched the table, hoping to find something that might help. But I knew it was all gone. There was nothing for me to find. “Please, leave me in peace.”
*My son, I need you. There is no more time to wait. You must listen. People need you.*
No! No, no, no, I screamed in my head. I can’t handle this anymore. The constant badgering, urging me to do this or that, I just want to live my own life!
*You’ve helped me before, my son, so many times. Helped so many people. This is your purpose. This is why I created you.*
“You’re just a god damn voice in my head! If there was a god, he wouldn’t torture me like this.” I stood, almost stumbling over the low coffee table. I lurched to the fridge and threw it open, hoping to find beer. Mustard, strawberry jam, a strangely colored carrot, but no beer. Fuck.
*If you will not listen, then I must make you see.*
A searing light from behind my eyes burned my vision away. I stumbled back and reached for my face, and just as suddenly as it came, the light was gone. Instead I was choking on a cloud of dust, and the sun was a blotted disc in the sky above. I heard screams, both far and near. I was sweating heavily under the weight of my equipment. I looked down to see a black and yellow uniform. A hand leapt to my head, ensuring my helmet was firmly in place as a second explosion happened far above me. I remember fear. I remember being determined as I ran up the steps of that second building, pulling people to their feet, thrusting them back down the stairs I was climbing. I remember the shock of the building collapsing around me.
*You have been a firefighter, bringing the gift of safety.*
Then the sun shone bright again, blinding me. In front of me, I held a pair of hands to my face that I did not recognize. I lowered them in confusion, staring, turning them over. I blinked and squinted. I held one of the strange hands up to shield my eyes. In front of me was a crowd, and I stood behind a podium. I glanced down to find a set of notes in a strange language. I remember the crowd cheering. Then I remembered what I was there to speak about. Bringing peace to the troubled and frightened people of India and Pakistan.
*You have been a diplomat, bringing the gift of peace.*
The world spun, and I stumbled. I reached a hand out to steady myself, and found it resting on a chalk board. I leaned over to pick up the piece of chalk I had dropped, and rose to find myself staring at a room full young black boys and girls, each focusing intently on the history quiz I had just handed out. I finished writing their instructions on the chalk board.
*You have been a teacher, bringing the gift of knowledge.*
The chalk in my hand was now an old Bible. I held a finger between two pages, marking the spot I would reference. The desks and children became bushes and flowers, and I strolled between them, finally entering a small stone church through a side door. I stepped in front of my small congregation, and opened my Bible. I smiled and began to tell them of God’s mercy.
*You have been a priest, bringing the gift of faith.*
Now the people who stood before me singing hymns were charging soldiers, and dust rose around me as I ran forward. I was exhausted from marching all day, but I stayed focused. My life depended on me keeping my eyes open. Amidst the dust, I met the enemy, and he swung at me with his blade, but I ducked beneath it, continuing to move forward. As his arm carried the blade wide, I stood and impaled the barbarian on my own sword. I shoved him to the ground and wrenched my blade free, searching the chaos for a new foe.
*You have been a soldier, bringing the gift of freedom.*
Then the dust and clashing of men and metal was gone, replaced by the crackle of a low fire, lighting a small cave. I could hear a stream trickle in the background, and water dripping from the stalactites around me. I face the cavern wall as my shadow danced along it. I lifted my tools, and continued to hammer out symbols, telling the story of my journey, and the journey of my people.
*You have been a writer, bringing the gift of language.*
“No. This is impossible. I remember these things,” I said, my voice trailing off as I found myself staring once more into my filthy refrigerator. “But this can't be real. No. No, no, no, no. I’m hallucinating.”
*Please my son. For millennia you have been the one I turn to when people need guidance, or a hero. They need you now. Please listen. These are memories. They are real. You have been all of these people and more.*
Impossible. I’ve never done these things. I moved back towards my couch, but walked past it to my window. I tore down the curtain, and the sunlight flooded in. I threw an arm up to defend myself from the intrusion that I should have expected. But I didn’t care. I unlatched my window and lifted it, climbing out onto the fire escape.
*You must listen. I need you again. Please, my son.*
No.
“No more!” I shouted. Far below me, someone looked up, and pointed. Someone else screamed. I don’t care. I can’t handle it anymore. I’m done. I climbed over the railing, and let go. I closed my eyes. The screams grew louder, but the instant I felt the cement, there was nothing.
________
On the roof of the building opposite the young man’s stood another man, looking down in horror at the mangled man far below. He watched as a small crowd gathered. People were crying and screaming. A mother held her crying child close, doing her best to comfort it. Then he saw someone he recognized. She stood near the shattered man, holding her head in her hands.
Could that be my sister, he thought. I can’t do this to her. It would kill her just as surely as it would kill me.
The man stepped away from the edge, and went down to hold his sister tight. He booked an appointment with a therapist the next day, and a year later he was working in a call center for suicide prevention. He never stepped so close to the edge again.
*And now you have been an inspiration, bringing the gift of hope.*
| "...So, to prove you're really God, and not a product of my obviously crazy mind-"
*-YES-*
"-You made me *hallucinate*?!"
*...OH, RIGHT. ...SHIT.*
"You wanna maybe take *another crack at this*, big guy? Like, I dunno, give me magic powers or something?"
*I, UH. LISTEN. HERE'S THE THING ABOUT MAGIC POWERS...*
"Oh, I'm *all ears*."
*...IS THAT TONE REALLY NECESSARY?*
"Not really. This is fun, actually."
*THINGS WERE A LOT EASIER WHEN THERE WEREN'T SO MANY SMART-ALECS LIKE YOU AROUND, YOU KNOW.*
"I'm sure you're right."
*I COULD TELL SOMEONE TO WALK HIS PEOPLE RIGHT INTO THE DESERT, BACK THEN. NO WATER OR ANYTHING! NOW EVERYONE'S ALL "IF YOU'RE ALL POWERFUL, WHY NOT BRING THE* PROMISED LAND *HERE*?!" "WHY MAKE US SCHLEP THROUGH THE DAMN DESERT, WITH THE SCORPIONS AND SAND AND EVERYTHING?" * HUGE *PAIN IN MY ASS*!
"...I'm very sorry."
*YOU'RE LAUGHING, AREN'T YOU.*
"No no no noooooo. *...Yes.* But you've really touched me with your plight, oh totes-real God."
The voice brightened up.
*OH? SO YOU* WON'T *SWALLOW THAT ANTIPSYCHOTIC TABLET AFTER ALL?*
"Nahhh, just kidding. I took it like ten minutes ago. Guess it takes time to kick in."
*OH, FOR* FUCK'S SA-*
... Silence.
"...I knew it."
THE END
______________________________________________________________
Epilogue:
Yeah, this is how I'd figure it would go down. Hume's argument on this is pretty incontrovertible: "Either the known rules of the universe have been suspended, in your favor, or you are laboring under a very grave misapprehension." Any atheist worth their salt will say that they are simply delusional, and slipping deeper and deeper into psychosis, because that is infinitely more likely than being divinely chosen.
No reason to not have fun with it. though.
Well, in any case, I have a subreddit right [here](https://www.reddit.com/r/IWasSurprisedToo/) that has some things that are kind of like this and a whole lot more things that totally aren't at all like this.
It is within your power to comment and subscribe, as your heart tells you! Search your feelings, you know it to be true.
| |
I found this prompt in a file of writing ideas I came up with over the years but never returned to. I want to see what you guys can do with it. | [WP] God is all powerful, but not all knowing. In fact, he has no idea what he's doing. | It was finally Yahweh's time to shine. As a young boy Yahweh had always wanted to have a job as a universe manager. It was not the ideal job but it paid the job and seemed fun enough. He had an alter ego called Allah who showed up whenever he was drunk or angry and who was the party pooper. It was this side that almost made him flunk Deity College, but somehow despite procrastinating and masturbating each and every single day Yahweh managed to graduate with a degree in Universal Control. As a C student this was Yahwehs big break. He soon got hired and was given control of Universe A395. It was a standard universe, nothing too crazy, it had the whole package black holes, stars, galaxies, dark matter all the gibblets that made a universe work. Sadly though he was not allowed to create life, all the planets with life already on them were bountiful and peaceful and everyone was finding enlightenment. An idea cooked up by Siddhartha Budda.
That slimy asshole got a raise and a promotion due to that and now he could create life and had autorizathoin to do whatever he pleased. At 1 time Yahweh saw Budda get some weed, and burnt it at the center of his universe. Everyone was high for months. Yahweh on the other hand had a 3028502 page rulebook on all the things he could not do to his Universe. He begrudingly followed all the rules for a while until one day he came upon a small galaxy. So tiny in fact that when he checked the registry of galaxies it didn't register. This was Yahwehs time to shine.
The next day he told his buddy Zeus about it. Zeus his old frat buddy also had his own universe but contrary to Yahweh he broke the rules. He would interfere with a specific world and try to have sex with all of the girls there. Sadly now he was a father to countless children he hated and denounced because if anyone ever found out what he did he would lose credibility on all possible universes.
Yahweh walked into his small cubicle that day opened his Universe and began clicking around trying to find the universe he had named "Milky Way" after about an hour he found the damn thing and bookmarked it. Yahweh then reached into his backpack and took out a water bottle full of vodka and partied a bit before going back to work.
Yahweh found an ideal planet to use, there were actually a few dozen of these but his planet was just right. Being drunk Yahweh couldn't turn the light on so he began working in the dark. Creating vegetation, water, the sky so the planet would have light. Among other basic planetary necessities. This went on for a while until he turned on the light. What he found was a big land mass and much water. Boring. Yahweh then falcon punched the planet and the mass split into sections. "Better, its more aesthetically pleasing now." after that god has his own nifty planet. But there was no sentient life in it.
Yahweh exited his universe and decided to spy on his friend the Flying Spaghetti Monster. That guy had built a civilization of conscious lizards who had already found out how to preserve their world indefinitely while also finding ways to travel peacefully across the universe to interact with other sentient beings.
Plagiarism had never been Yahwehs more likeable activity but he still tried to emulate FSM. Using all his knowledge from his genetic creation class in which he passed with a D, Yahweh created Dinosaurs and animals alike. Sadly it was a failed venture because nothing was sentient. It was so boring that god got angry and threw his empty water bottle at the world. The strike killed most of his animals. Yahweh then remembered that sometimes evolution allowed for the rise of sentient beings with knowledge. Therefore after he cleared his whole mess he found the time skip level and fast forwarded for some millienia until he found the sweet spot. He found apes that had little fur which were communicating by sounds and using tools. The drawback was that because they evolved from his faulty creations they, for some reason, loved to murder each other for trivial matters and wouldn't stop dying of infection.
Yahweh found a small group of idiots to test out his new rules on, and on other small civilizations he gave the apes ideologies created by his fellow deities. Perhaps at some point the whole of this creature would put all the ideologies and rules together and live a prosperous life. Then Yahweh could get his comeupance.
Not wanting to wait a long time to see his world flourish and begin space travel he decided to skip ahead a few thousand years. What resulted was utter chaos. Yahweh was so shocked he closed his universe and left his office. He needed a drink fast.
While Yahweh was away Shiva the great hacker who loved to get his grubby hands on worlds and lead them to death and destruction found Yahwehs world and, by all the celestial beings It. Was. Magnificent. Shiva hacked the whole system of universes and implemented Yahwehs world into all known universes.
Needless to say the very next day borh Shiva and Yahweh were reprimanded and put on a short leash. All anyone could do was watch that world burn itself to the ground.
A few months later Yahweh stole a universe with his creation took it home and began messing fanatics. Pitting civilizations against each other and watching them kill each other for sport. The fun never ends when you don't know what comes next.
(bad writing is bad. I know, this is why I said hell no to being an English major when I went to college)
| Lights from an ambulance poured through the window and swept the empty apartment. Whiskey bottles littered the floor. A revolver and a case of bullets lay up against the wall, next to a photograph taken on an late autumn day.
A woman's voice said, "Heeeeeeyyy it's me. Kaaaaaaayyyy P. And YOU know what to do..." Then a sharp beep.
John ended the phone call. Then dialed the number again. "Heeeeeyyyy it's me..."
The ice was melting in his drink, but the water running down his cheeks wasn't from the whiskey. Neither was the red in his eyes.
Once more he hung up. Once more he called. Once more he took a swig from his glass and placed it back upon the floor.
There came a bang from the door. People yelling. Strangers calling his name.
John looked around at his empty apartment... picked up the revolver lying next to him... put it to his temple and pulled the trigger.
~ ~ 3 days earlier ~ ~
The walk from the yellow cab to the office building was the only real time John was in danger. But his heart was racing and his hands were shaking. He got out of the taxi before paying the driver and had to turn back twice. Once to finish up his payment, once to grab his cellphone from the seat.
And he was already late...
As he pushed through revolving glass doors, he rehearsed his presentation in his head. He reviewed his facts and figures. He poured over his projected numbers. He flashed his trademark "joking" smile and went red when he realized he did it in real life.
The secretary was not amused.
"Who are you here to see?" she said. Her glasses were black, her nails were blood red and when it came to the future of men like John... she was intimidating as Cerberus and twice as destructive.
"I'm here to see Mr. Black," John said. "Jason," he quickly added. They weren't friends, but she couldn't possibly know that, right? John figured this had to soften her heart a little.
But all she did was raise her eye brows and turn to her computer. The way she pressed keys felt like a death sentence to John. Each letter felt like the end of the line... a tombstone crashing down from the heavens to land upon his career.
"Mhhmm.." she popped her gum and sipped a bottle of Perrier she'd wrapped with a paper napkin. She looked back up at John, "He's already waiting for you."
When John grabbed his briefcase, he noticed it was slippery against his palms. His cheeks felt warmer than they should have. The feeling in his gut was an unholy mix of fear and guilt and shame. As he walked towards Mr. Black's office, he felt like he was on an elevator rising higher and higher at breakneck speed.
That's when the panic struck him...
When John finally came down from the rush, he was walking the three flights of stairs back up to his apartment. He jiggled the key to open the lock. He shoved the door open and slammed it closed behind him. He threw his bag onto the closest chair and grabbed himself a beer from the fridge.
Spread on top of the kitchen table were business plans, diagrams and print outs of his presentation. All John saw were hundred hours invested in a flawed end product. When he turned on his laptop the first thing he saw were his notes to himself:
"What happens is out of your control..."
"All you have to do is be 'good enough'..."
"If you make the case he'll have to listen..."
John added a note, "If you believe that, I've got a bridge to sell you..." before closing his laptop screen. He took a swig of his imported beer as he watched all his hopes and dreams of making it big vanish before him. Venture capital? Turned down. Angel investors? Not on board. All his savings? Gone for good.
"At least I graduated college with a business degree," he thought to himself. This at least made him chuckle.
So when his cell phone rang, he didn't think much of it. He answered the call without checking the number. And when the voice on the other end of the line said, "Hey John, you got a minute?" he said, "Sure. Who's this?"
"You don't recognize my voice, John?" the man on the line asked.
John looked answered him, "No. Who are you?"
The man sighed and said, "No wonder. We haven't talked in awhile. John... believe it or not... I'm God."
~~~~~~~~~~~~
There's plenty more if people are interested. I'll leave it here if you're not!
|
I found this prompt in a file of writing ideas I came up with over the years but never returned to. I want to see what you guys can do with it. | [WP] God is all powerful, but not all knowing. In fact, he has no idea what he's doing. | "Why don't they believe in me anymore?" Zeus asked himself- a literal duplicate of himself that he had created for these kinds of discussions. Or maybe it was the other way around? "I mean... people on Earth either have been seeing me as this kind of crazy, perfect being made of light and love, etc. or they don't believe I exist at all!"
"True, but you haven't really DONE much lately on Earth..." Zeus said, shrugging a bit at himself
"Because when I do stuff, they start saying I fucked a goose or something. I never fucked a goose! Why would I fuck a goose? Like...I'm an extra-dimensional being that exists beyond their plane of existence, those monkeys cannot begin to imagine the true extent of my power and they believe I would fuck a damn goose."
"Don't get angry... never ends up going well..."
"I turn ONE person into a pillar of salt and I will never let myself live it down!"
"Yea, the 'Pillar of Salt' thing is the *only* angry thing you did. Not the whole giant flood thing, trying to make that one guy kills his son, destroying those two cities in a firestorm..."
"THEY WERE FUCKING GEESE!"
"What is this hang up with geese?"
"They're beautiful creatures! I spent all this time designing them and all these damn monkeys do is eat and fuck them! But then they get all *amazed* at pretty lights in the sky that just kinda happened because of how I set this whole damn universe up. You know how much work I put into creating earth? Designing all those mountains? Great plains? the fjords!? They are in for a serious wake up call when they find out how I kinda just threw together the rest of the universe at the last minute..."
Zeus grumbled, to himself. Himself, personally, and not 'himself the duplicate of himself'. He started again: "Its no wonder why I don't bother with them anymore. This *new* planet of mine is doing just fine, though!"
"Did you have to make them call it 'Zeus-town' though?"
"Its a good name! And they're good creations. Trying to be a lot more 'mellow' with them... but I swear to you/me, if just one of them touches a fucking goose, I'm not even gonna bother with chucking an asteroid their way like I did when I fucked up with those dinosaur things, they're going right into their sun, and that sun is going into a black hole and that blackhole is going to dissipate into nothingness because fuck 'em..."
| Lights from an ambulance poured through the window and swept the empty apartment. Whiskey bottles littered the floor. A revolver and a case of bullets lay up against the wall, next to a photograph taken on an late autumn day.
A woman's voice said, "Heeeeeeyyy it's me. Kaaaaaaayyyy P. And YOU know what to do..." Then a sharp beep.
John ended the phone call. Then dialed the number again. "Heeeeeyyyy it's me..."
The ice was melting in his drink, but the water running down his cheeks wasn't from the whiskey. Neither was the red in his eyes.
Once more he hung up. Once more he called. Once more he took a swig from his glass and placed it back upon the floor.
There came a bang from the door. People yelling. Strangers calling his name.
John looked around at his empty apartment... picked up the revolver lying next to him... put it to his temple and pulled the trigger.
~ ~ 3 days earlier ~ ~
The walk from the yellow cab to the office building was the only real time John was in danger. But his heart was racing and his hands were shaking. He got out of the taxi before paying the driver and had to turn back twice. Once to finish up his payment, once to grab his cellphone from the seat.
And he was already late...
As he pushed through revolving glass doors, he rehearsed his presentation in his head. He reviewed his facts and figures. He poured over his projected numbers. He flashed his trademark "joking" smile and went red when he realized he did it in real life.
The secretary was not amused.
"Who are you here to see?" she said. Her glasses were black, her nails were blood red and when it came to the future of men like John... she was intimidating as Cerberus and twice as destructive.
"I'm here to see Mr. Black," John said. "Jason," he quickly added. They weren't friends, but she couldn't possibly know that, right? John figured this had to soften her heart a little.
But all she did was raise her eye brows and turn to her computer. The way she pressed keys felt like a death sentence to John. Each letter felt like the end of the line... a tombstone crashing down from the heavens to land upon his career.
"Mhhmm.." she popped her gum and sipped a bottle of Perrier she'd wrapped with a paper napkin. She looked back up at John, "He's already waiting for you."
When John grabbed his briefcase, he noticed it was slippery against his palms. His cheeks felt warmer than they should have. The feeling in his gut was an unholy mix of fear and guilt and shame. As he walked towards Mr. Black's office, he felt like he was on an elevator rising higher and higher at breakneck speed.
That's when the panic struck him...
When John finally came down from the rush, he was walking the three flights of stairs back up to his apartment. He jiggled the key to open the lock. He shoved the door open and slammed it closed behind him. He threw his bag onto the closest chair and grabbed himself a beer from the fridge.
Spread on top of the kitchen table were business plans, diagrams and print outs of his presentation. All John saw were hundred hours invested in a flawed end product. When he turned on his laptop the first thing he saw were his notes to himself:
"What happens is out of your control..."
"All you have to do is be 'good enough'..."
"If you make the case he'll have to listen..."
John added a note, "If you believe that, I've got a bridge to sell you..." before closing his laptop screen. He took a swig of his imported beer as he watched all his hopes and dreams of making it big vanish before him. Venture capital? Turned down. Angel investors? Not on board. All his savings? Gone for good.
"At least I graduated college with a business degree," he thought to himself. This at least made him chuckle.
So when his cell phone rang, he didn't think much of it. He answered the call without checking the number. And when the voice on the other end of the line said, "Hey John, you got a minute?" he said, "Sure. Who's this?"
"You don't recognize my voice, John?" the man on the line asked.
John looked answered him, "No. Who are you?"
The man sighed and said, "No wonder. We haven't talked in awhile. John... believe it or not... I'm God."
~~~~~~~~~~~~
There's plenty more if people are interested. I'll leave it here if you're not!
|
I found this prompt in a file of writing ideas I came up with over the years but never returned to. I want to see what you guys can do with it. | [WP] God is all powerful, but not all knowing. In fact, he has no idea what he's doing. | The almighty being known as God,
is really somewhat of a clod.
He may of created all things
from ice cream to kings,
But somehow it all still seems flawed. | Lights from an ambulance poured through the window and swept the empty apartment. Whiskey bottles littered the floor. A revolver and a case of bullets lay up against the wall, next to a photograph taken on an late autumn day.
A woman's voice said, "Heeeeeeyyy it's me. Kaaaaaaayyyy P. And YOU know what to do..." Then a sharp beep.
John ended the phone call. Then dialed the number again. "Heeeeeyyyy it's me..."
The ice was melting in his drink, but the water running down his cheeks wasn't from the whiskey. Neither was the red in his eyes.
Once more he hung up. Once more he called. Once more he took a swig from his glass and placed it back upon the floor.
There came a bang from the door. People yelling. Strangers calling his name.
John looked around at his empty apartment... picked up the revolver lying next to him... put it to his temple and pulled the trigger.
~ ~ 3 days earlier ~ ~
The walk from the yellow cab to the office building was the only real time John was in danger. But his heart was racing and his hands were shaking. He got out of the taxi before paying the driver and had to turn back twice. Once to finish up his payment, once to grab his cellphone from the seat.
And he was already late...
As he pushed through revolving glass doors, he rehearsed his presentation in his head. He reviewed his facts and figures. He poured over his projected numbers. He flashed his trademark "joking" smile and went red when he realized he did it in real life.
The secretary was not amused.
"Who are you here to see?" she said. Her glasses were black, her nails were blood red and when it came to the future of men like John... she was intimidating as Cerberus and twice as destructive.
"I'm here to see Mr. Black," John said. "Jason," he quickly added. They weren't friends, but she couldn't possibly know that, right? John figured this had to soften her heart a little.
But all she did was raise her eye brows and turn to her computer. The way she pressed keys felt like a death sentence to John. Each letter felt like the end of the line... a tombstone crashing down from the heavens to land upon his career.
"Mhhmm.." she popped her gum and sipped a bottle of Perrier she'd wrapped with a paper napkin. She looked back up at John, "He's already waiting for you."
When John grabbed his briefcase, he noticed it was slippery against his palms. His cheeks felt warmer than they should have. The feeling in his gut was an unholy mix of fear and guilt and shame. As he walked towards Mr. Black's office, he felt like he was on an elevator rising higher and higher at breakneck speed.
That's when the panic struck him...
When John finally came down from the rush, he was walking the three flights of stairs back up to his apartment. He jiggled the key to open the lock. He shoved the door open and slammed it closed behind him. He threw his bag onto the closest chair and grabbed himself a beer from the fridge.
Spread on top of the kitchen table were business plans, diagrams and print outs of his presentation. All John saw were hundred hours invested in a flawed end product. When he turned on his laptop the first thing he saw were his notes to himself:
"What happens is out of your control..."
"All you have to do is be 'good enough'..."
"If you make the case he'll have to listen..."
John added a note, "If you believe that, I've got a bridge to sell you..." before closing his laptop screen. He took a swig of his imported beer as he watched all his hopes and dreams of making it big vanish before him. Venture capital? Turned down. Angel investors? Not on board. All his savings? Gone for good.
"At least I graduated college with a business degree," he thought to himself. This at least made him chuckle.
So when his cell phone rang, he didn't think much of it. He answered the call without checking the number. And when the voice on the other end of the line said, "Hey John, you got a minute?" he said, "Sure. Who's this?"
"You don't recognize my voice, John?" the man on the line asked.
John looked answered him, "No. Who are you?"
The man sighed and said, "No wonder. We haven't talked in awhile. John... believe it or not... I'm God."
~~~~~~~~~~~~
There's plenty more if people are interested. I'll leave it here if you're not!
|
I found this prompt in a file of writing ideas I came up with over the years but never returned to. I want to see what you guys can do with it. | [WP] God is all powerful, but not all knowing. In fact, he has no idea what he's doing. | *What the fuck?! Why wouldn't that compile?! That should have worked!!!*
Everyone knows by now that they live in a computer simulation, and God is a computer programmer. But little do they know that their guy is in fact, an idiot, and doesn't have a clue what he's doing.
*I* am that computer programmer. And where I am, something new comes out practically every week. I was charged with building a computer simulation for an entire universe. Sounds like a daunting task, but the tools and frameworks available make it easier. Supposedly.
The language I had to use was called Tribunal. And while the syntax and logic seemed very similar to other languages I've used in the past, Tribunal seemed to have quirks at every corner.
"*Okay*," I thought when I was first creating it, "*Let's do this.*"
>for (j=1::7)
"*Easy*," I thought, "*Create the universe and initialize everything in seven days. Now, universals.*"
>univconst double speedOfLight = 3.00e8;
>univconst double gravConst = 6.674e-11;
Okay, good there. Now, the Ten Commandments
>univconst word commandments[9] = {"Thou shalt have no other gods before me", "Thou shalt not make unto thee any graven image", ..};
I continued going down until "Thou shalt not covet thy neighbor's animals or other possessions". Good there.
See, it all went fine for the first couple centuries. But then I realized that those so-called "universal constants" aren't actually constants. Apparently, after enough centuries of the program running those can sway and possibly do a complete 180. Because apparently, people were getting into heaven even though they should have failed at least one of the commandments.
I tried to reset the commandments every x years as a possible fix, but apparently declaring it as a univ makes it so you can't do that. The language prohibits it, because it requires you only set it once and let the program decide whether it's right or wrong morally over time depending on other random things happening in the simulation program. Basically, it's a constant, except it's not.
This is just one of my many screw ups. My advice is that if you want to play god, don't code like I do. | Lights from an ambulance poured through the window and swept the empty apartment. Whiskey bottles littered the floor. A revolver and a case of bullets lay up against the wall, next to a photograph taken on an late autumn day.
A woman's voice said, "Heeeeeeyyy it's me. Kaaaaaaayyyy P. And YOU know what to do..." Then a sharp beep.
John ended the phone call. Then dialed the number again. "Heeeeeyyyy it's me..."
The ice was melting in his drink, but the water running down his cheeks wasn't from the whiskey. Neither was the red in his eyes.
Once more he hung up. Once more he called. Once more he took a swig from his glass and placed it back upon the floor.
There came a bang from the door. People yelling. Strangers calling his name.
John looked around at his empty apartment... picked up the revolver lying next to him... put it to his temple and pulled the trigger.
~ ~ 3 days earlier ~ ~
The walk from the yellow cab to the office building was the only real time John was in danger. But his heart was racing and his hands were shaking. He got out of the taxi before paying the driver and had to turn back twice. Once to finish up his payment, once to grab his cellphone from the seat.
And he was already late...
As he pushed through revolving glass doors, he rehearsed his presentation in his head. He reviewed his facts and figures. He poured over his projected numbers. He flashed his trademark "joking" smile and went red when he realized he did it in real life.
The secretary was not amused.
"Who are you here to see?" she said. Her glasses were black, her nails were blood red and when it came to the future of men like John... she was intimidating as Cerberus and twice as destructive.
"I'm here to see Mr. Black," John said. "Jason," he quickly added. They weren't friends, but she couldn't possibly know that, right? John figured this had to soften her heart a little.
But all she did was raise her eye brows and turn to her computer. The way she pressed keys felt like a death sentence to John. Each letter felt like the end of the line... a tombstone crashing down from the heavens to land upon his career.
"Mhhmm.." she popped her gum and sipped a bottle of Perrier she'd wrapped with a paper napkin. She looked back up at John, "He's already waiting for you."
When John grabbed his briefcase, he noticed it was slippery against his palms. His cheeks felt warmer than they should have. The feeling in his gut was an unholy mix of fear and guilt and shame. As he walked towards Mr. Black's office, he felt like he was on an elevator rising higher and higher at breakneck speed.
That's when the panic struck him...
When John finally came down from the rush, he was walking the three flights of stairs back up to his apartment. He jiggled the key to open the lock. He shoved the door open and slammed it closed behind him. He threw his bag onto the closest chair and grabbed himself a beer from the fridge.
Spread on top of the kitchen table were business plans, diagrams and print outs of his presentation. All John saw were hundred hours invested in a flawed end product. When he turned on his laptop the first thing he saw were his notes to himself:
"What happens is out of your control..."
"All you have to do is be 'good enough'..."
"If you make the case he'll have to listen..."
John added a note, "If you believe that, I've got a bridge to sell you..." before closing his laptop screen. He took a swig of his imported beer as he watched all his hopes and dreams of making it big vanish before him. Venture capital? Turned down. Angel investors? Not on board. All his savings? Gone for good.
"At least I graduated college with a business degree," he thought to himself. This at least made him chuckle.
So when his cell phone rang, he didn't think much of it. He answered the call without checking the number. And when the voice on the other end of the line said, "Hey John, you got a minute?" he said, "Sure. Who's this?"
"You don't recognize my voice, John?" the man on the line asked.
John looked answered him, "No. Who are you?"
The man sighed and said, "No wonder. We haven't talked in awhile. John... believe it or not... I'm God."
~~~~~~~~~~~~
There's plenty more if people are interested. I'll leave it here if you're not!
|
I found this prompt in a file of writing ideas I came up with over the years but never returned to. I want to see what you guys can do with it. | [WP] God is all powerful, but not all knowing. In fact, he has no idea what he's doing. | He let out a long drawn out sigh as his head fell into his hands. "This won't do at all" he groaned, crumpling up the paper in front of him. "A pigeon and an alligator? What a horrible idea. It's a miracle they let the platypus slide." The more he thought about his creations, the more he wondered how the humans didn't catch onto him.
He leaned back in his chair and stared out into space. It was at times like this that he reflected on how he ended up in this mess. He never intended on being a powerful creator of life. It just wound up this way. He equates it to accidentally stumbling onto a stage, the crowd is cheering and the orchestra is waiting. You have no idea what is going on, but you know you have to do something. So far his 'something' was questionable at best.
He knew he couldn't get directly involved again, last time he tried that he was forced to flood the place and start over. Sending a disciple was a bad idea too. His last one didn't even make it to 40 years, even with his help. It was so draining to have to pay so much attention to this planet. He knew as soon as he looked away, another giant asteroid would slip past and take out all of the cool creatures he had been working on.
He wheeled his chair over to the tiny floating orb on the other side of the room and watched. As he did, he couldn't help but let out a smile. Despite all of his failed attempts and poorly implemented ideas, there was still some value in his little project. After all, watching the humans interact was what gave him the motivation to keep on being a creator.
He watched as a dog excitedly waits for it's owner to return. Dogs were one of his best ideas. Down the street he noticed a man help an elderly woman cross the street. Shifting his attention he caught a glimpse of a family of humans sitting around a table holding hands. The humans that tried to talk to him were the easiest to notice.
He let out another long sigh but not like the one from before. He was still anxious, that never changed, yet he felt refreshed. Inspired by what he had seen, he rolled his chair back to his work station. "Let's see" he grinned as he began to doodle, "what about a tiger and a fish"...
End.
| Lights from an ambulance poured through the window and swept the empty apartment. Whiskey bottles littered the floor. A revolver and a case of bullets lay up against the wall, next to a photograph taken on an late autumn day.
A woman's voice said, "Heeeeeeyyy it's me. Kaaaaaaayyyy P. And YOU know what to do..." Then a sharp beep.
John ended the phone call. Then dialed the number again. "Heeeeeyyyy it's me..."
The ice was melting in his drink, but the water running down his cheeks wasn't from the whiskey. Neither was the red in his eyes.
Once more he hung up. Once more he called. Once more he took a swig from his glass and placed it back upon the floor.
There came a bang from the door. People yelling. Strangers calling his name.
John looked around at his empty apartment... picked up the revolver lying next to him... put it to his temple and pulled the trigger.
~ ~ 3 days earlier ~ ~
The walk from the yellow cab to the office building was the only real time John was in danger. But his heart was racing and his hands were shaking. He got out of the taxi before paying the driver and had to turn back twice. Once to finish up his payment, once to grab his cellphone from the seat.
And he was already late...
As he pushed through revolving glass doors, he rehearsed his presentation in his head. He reviewed his facts and figures. He poured over his projected numbers. He flashed his trademark "joking" smile and went red when he realized he did it in real life.
The secretary was not amused.
"Who are you here to see?" she said. Her glasses were black, her nails were blood red and when it came to the future of men like John... she was intimidating as Cerberus and twice as destructive.
"I'm here to see Mr. Black," John said. "Jason," he quickly added. They weren't friends, but she couldn't possibly know that, right? John figured this had to soften her heart a little.
But all she did was raise her eye brows and turn to her computer. The way she pressed keys felt like a death sentence to John. Each letter felt like the end of the line... a tombstone crashing down from the heavens to land upon his career.
"Mhhmm.." she popped her gum and sipped a bottle of Perrier she'd wrapped with a paper napkin. She looked back up at John, "He's already waiting for you."
When John grabbed his briefcase, he noticed it was slippery against his palms. His cheeks felt warmer than they should have. The feeling in his gut was an unholy mix of fear and guilt and shame. As he walked towards Mr. Black's office, he felt like he was on an elevator rising higher and higher at breakneck speed.
That's when the panic struck him...
When John finally came down from the rush, he was walking the three flights of stairs back up to his apartment. He jiggled the key to open the lock. He shoved the door open and slammed it closed behind him. He threw his bag onto the closest chair and grabbed himself a beer from the fridge.
Spread on top of the kitchen table were business plans, diagrams and print outs of his presentation. All John saw were hundred hours invested in a flawed end product. When he turned on his laptop the first thing he saw were his notes to himself:
"What happens is out of your control..."
"All you have to do is be 'good enough'..."
"If you make the case he'll have to listen..."
John added a note, "If you believe that, I've got a bridge to sell you..." before closing his laptop screen. He took a swig of his imported beer as he watched all his hopes and dreams of making it big vanish before him. Venture capital? Turned down. Angel investors? Not on board. All his savings? Gone for good.
"At least I graduated college with a business degree," he thought to himself. This at least made him chuckle.
So when his cell phone rang, he didn't think much of it. He answered the call without checking the number. And when the voice on the other end of the line said, "Hey John, you got a minute?" he said, "Sure. Who's this?"
"You don't recognize my voice, John?" the man on the line asked.
John looked answered him, "No. Who are you?"
The man sighed and said, "No wonder. We haven't talked in awhile. John... believe it or not... I'm God."
~~~~~~~~~~~~
There's plenty more if people are interested. I'll leave it here if you're not!
|
I found this prompt in a file of writing ideas I came up with over the years but never returned to. I want to see what you guys can do with it. | [WP] God is all powerful, but not all knowing. In fact, he has no idea what he's doing. | *What the fuck?! Why wouldn't that compile?! That should have worked!!!*
Everyone knows by now that they live in a computer simulation, and God is a computer programmer. But little do they know that their guy is in fact, an idiot, and doesn't have a clue what he's doing.
*I* am that computer programmer. And where I am, something new comes out practically every week. I was charged with building a computer simulation for an entire universe. Sounds like a daunting task, but the tools and frameworks available make it easier. Supposedly.
The language I had to use was called Tribunal. And while the syntax and logic seemed very similar to other languages I've used in the past, Tribunal seemed to have quirks at every corner.
"*Okay*," I thought when I was first creating it, "*Let's do this.*"
>for (j=1::7)
"*Easy*," I thought, "*Create the universe and initialize everything in seven days. Now, universals.*"
>univconst double speedOfLight = 3.00e8;
>univconst double gravConst = 6.674e-11;
Okay, good there. Now, the Ten Commandments
>univconst word commandments[9] = {"Thou shalt have no other gods before me", "Thou shalt not make unto thee any graven image", ..};
I continued going down until "Thou shalt not covet thy neighbor's animals or other possessions". Good there.
See, it all went fine for the first couple centuries. But then I realized that those so-called "universal constants" aren't actually constants. Apparently, after enough centuries of the program running those can sway and possibly do a complete 180. Because apparently, people were getting into heaven even though they should have failed at least one of the commandments.
I tried to reset the commandments every x years as a possible fix, but apparently declaring it as a univ makes it so you can't do that. The language prohibits it, because it requires you only set it once and let the program decide whether it's right or wrong morally over time depending on other random things happening in the simulation program. Basically, it's a constant, except it's not.
This is just one of my many screw ups. My advice is that if you want to play god, don't code like I do. | It was finally Yahweh's time to shine. As a young boy Yahweh had always wanted to have a job as a universe manager. It was not the ideal job but it paid the job and seemed fun enough. He had an alter ego called Allah who showed up whenever he was drunk or angry and who was the party pooper. It was this side that almost made him flunk Deity College, but somehow despite procrastinating and masturbating each and every single day Yahweh managed to graduate with a degree in Universal Control. As a C student this was Yahwehs big break. He soon got hired and was given control of Universe A395. It was a standard universe, nothing too crazy, it had the whole package black holes, stars, galaxies, dark matter all the gibblets that made a universe work. Sadly though he was not allowed to create life, all the planets with life already on them were bountiful and peaceful and everyone was finding enlightenment. An idea cooked up by Siddhartha Budda.
That slimy asshole got a raise and a promotion due to that and now he could create life and had autorizathoin to do whatever he pleased. At 1 time Yahweh saw Budda get some weed, and burnt it at the center of his universe. Everyone was high for months. Yahweh on the other hand had a 3028502 page rulebook on all the things he could not do to his Universe. He begrudingly followed all the rules for a while until one day he came upon a small galaxy. So tiny in fact that when he checked the registry of galaxies it didn't register. This was Yahwehs time to shine.
The next day he told his buddy Zeus about it. Zeus his old frat buddy also had his own universe but contrary to Yahweh he broke the rules. He would interfere with a specific world and try to have sex with all of the girls there. Sadly now he was a father to countless children he hated and denounced because if anyone ever found out what he did he would lose credibility on all possible universes.
Yahweh walked into his small cubicle that day opened his Universe and began clicking around trying to find the universe he had named "Milky Way" after about an hour he found the damn thing and bookmarked it. Yahweh then reached into his backpack and took out a water bottle full of vodka and partied a bit before going back to work.
Yahweh found an ideal planet to use, there were actually a few dozen of these but his planet was just right. Being drunk Yahweh couldn't turn the light on so he began working in the dark. Creating vegetation, water, the sky so the planet would have light. Among other basic planetary necessities. This went on for a while until he turned on the light. What he found was a big land mass and much water. Boring. Yahweh then falcon punched the planet and the mass split into sections. "Better, its more aesthetically pleasing now." after that god has his own nifty planet. But there was no sentient life in it.
Yahweh exited his universe and decided to spy on his friend the Flying Spaghetti Monster. That guy had built a civilization of conscious lizards who had already found out how to preserve their world indefinitely while also finding ways to travel peacefully across the universe to interact with other sentient beings.
Plagiarism had never been Yahwehs more likeable activity but he still tried to emulate FSM. Using all his knowledge from his genetic creation class in which he passed with a D, Yahweh created Dinosaurs and animals alike. Sadly it was a failed venture because nothing was sentient. It was so boring that god got angry and threw his empty water bottle at the world. The strike killed most of his animals. Yahweh then remembered that sometimes evolution allowed for the rise of sentient beings with knowledge. Therefore after he cleared his whole mess he found the time skip level and fast forwarded for some millienia until he found the sweet spot. He found apes that had little fur which were communicating by sounds and using tools. The drawback was that because they evolved from his faulty creations they, for some reason, loved to murder each other for trivial matters and wouldn't stop dying of infection.
Yahweh found a small group of idiots to test out his new rules on, and on other small civilizations he gave the apes ideologies created by his fellow deities. Perhaps at some point the whole of this creature would put all the ideologies and rules together and live a prosperous life. Then Yahweh could get his comeupance.
Not wanting to wait a long time to see his world flourish and begin space travel he decided to skip ahead a few thousand years. What resulted was utter chaos. Yahweh was so shocked he closed his universe and left his office. He needed a drink fast.
While Yahweh was away Shiva the great hacker who loved to get his grubby hands on worlds and lead them to death and destruction found Yahwehs world and, by all the celestial beings It. Was. Magnificent. Shiva hacked the whole system of universes and implemented Yahwehs world into all known universes.
Needless to say the very next day borh Shiva and Yahweh were reprimanded and put on a short leash. All anyone could do was watch that world burn itself to the ground.
A few months later Yahweh stole a universe with his creation took it home and began messing fanatics. Pitting civilizations against each other and watching them kill each other for sport. The fun never ends when you don't know what comes next.
(bad writing is bad. I know, this is why I said hell no to being an English major when I went to college)
|
I found this prompt in a file of writing ideas I came up with over the years but never returned to. I want to see what you guys can do with it. | [WP] God is all powerful, but not all knowing. In fact, he has no idea what he's doing. | The almighty being known as God,
is really somewhat of a clod.
He may of created all things
from ice cream to kings,
But somehow it all still seems flawed. | "Why don't they believe in me anymore?" Zeus asked himself- a literal duplicate of himself that he had created for these kinds of discussions. Or maybe it was the other way around? "I mean... people on Earth either have been seeing me as this kind of crazy, perfect being made of light and love, etc. or they don't believe I exist at all!"
"True, but you haven't really DONE much lately on Earth..." Zeus said, shrugging a bit at himself
"Because when I do stuff, they start saying I fucked a goose or something. I never fucked a goose! Why would I fuck a goose? Like...I'm an extra-dimensional being that exists beyond their plane of existence, those monkeys cannot begin to imagine the true extent of my power and they believe I would fuck a damn goose."
"Don't get angry... never ends up going well..."
"I turn ONE person into a pillar of salt and I will never let myself live it down!"
"Yea, the 'Pillar of Salt' thing is the *only* angry thing you did. Not the whole giant flood thing, trying to make that one guy kills his son, destroying those two cities in a firestorm..."
"THEY WERE FUCKING GEESE!"
"What is this hang up with geese?"
"They're beautiful creatures! I spent all this time designing them and all these damn monkeys do is eat and fuck them! But then they get all *amazed* at pretty lights in the sky that just kinda happened because of how I set this whole damn universe up. You know how much work I put into creating earth? Designing all those mountains? Great plains? the fjords!? They are in for a serious wake up call when they find out how I kinda just threw together the rest of the universe at the last minute..."
Zeus grumbled, to himself. Himself, personally, and not 'himself the duplicate of himself'. He started again: "Its no wonder why I don't bother with them anymore. This *new* planet of mine is doing just fine, though!"
"Did you have to make them call it 'Zeus-town' though?"
"Its a good name! And they're good creations. Trying to be a lot more 'mellow' with them... but I swear to you/me, if just one of them touches a fucking goose, I'm not even gonna bother with chucking an asteroid their way like I did when I fucked up with those dinosaur things, they're going right into their sun, and that sun is going into a black hole and that blackhole is going to dissipate into nothingness because fuck 'em..."
|
I found this prompt in a file of writing ideas I came up with over the years but never returned to. I want to see what you guys can do with it. | [WP] God is all powerful, but not all knowing. In fact, he has no idea what he's doing. | *What the fuck?! Why wouldn't that compile?! That should have worked!!!*
Everyone knows by now that they live in a computer simulation, and God is a computer programmer. But little do they know that their guy is in fact, an idiot, and doesn't have a clue what he's doing.
*I* am that computer programmer. And where I am, something new comes out practically every week. I was charged with building a computer simulation for an entire universe. Sounds like a daunting task, but the tools and frameworks available make it easier. Supposedly.
The language I had to use was called Tribunal. And while the syntax and logic seemed very similar to other languages I've used in the past, Tribunal seemed to have quirks at every corner.
"*Okay*," I thought when I was first creating it, "*Let's do this.*"
>for (j=1::7)
"*Easy*," I thought, "*Create the universe and initialize everything in seven days. Now, universals.*"
>univconst double speedOfLight = 3.00e8;
>univconst double gravConst = 6.674e-11;
Okay, good there. Now, the Ten Commandments
>univconst word commandments[9] = {"Thou shalt have no other gods before me", "Thou shalt not make unto thee any graven image", ..};
I continued going down until "Thou shalt not covet thy neighbor's animals or other possessions". Good there.
See, it all went fine for the first couple centuries. But then I realized that those so-called "universal constants" aren't actually constants. Apparently, after enough centuries of the program running those can sway and possibly do a complete 180. Because apparently, people were getting into heaven even though they should have failed at least one of the commandments.
I tried to reset the commandments every x years as a possible fix, but apparently declaring it as a univ makes it so you can't do that. The language prohibits it, because it requires you only set it once and let the program decide whether it's right or wrong morally over time depending on other random things happening in the simulation program. Basically, it's a constant, except it's not.
This is just one of my many screw ups. My advice is that if you want to play god, don't code like I do. | "Why don't they believe in me anymore?" Zeus asked himself- a literal duplicate of himself that he had created for these kinds of discussions. Or maybe it was the other way around? "I mean... people on Earth either have been seeing me as this kind of crazy, perfect being made of light and love, etc. or they don't believe I exist at all!"
"True, but you haven't really DONE much lately on Earth..." Zeus said, shrugging a bit at himself
"Because when I do stuff, they start saying I fucked a goose or something. I never fucked a goose! Why would I fuck a goose? Like...I'm an extra-dimensional being that exists beyond their plane of existence, those monkeys cannot begin to imagine the true extent of my power and they believe I would fuck a damn goose."
"Don't get angry... never ends up going well..."
"I turn ONE person into a pillar of salt and I will never let myself live it down!"
"Yea, the 'Pillar of Salt' thing is the *only* angry thing you did. Not the whole giant flood thing, trying to make that one guy kills his son, destroying those two cities in a firestorm..."
"THEY WERE FUCKING GEESE!"
"What is this hang up with geese?"
"They're beautiful creatures! I spent all this time designing them and all these damn monkeys do is eat and fuck them! But then they get all *amazed* at pretty lights in the sky that just kinda happened because of how I set this whole damn universe up. You know how much work I put into creating earth? Designing all those mountains? Great plains? the fjords!? They are in for a serious wake up call when they find out how I kinda just threw together the rest of the universe at the last minute..."
Zeus grumbled, to himself. Himself, personally, and not 'himself the duplicate of himself'. He started again: "Its no wonder why I don't bother with them anymore. This *new* planet of mine is doing just fine, though!"
"Did you have to make them call it 'Zeus-town' though?"
"Its a good name! And they're good creations. Trying to be a lot more 'mellow' with them... but I swear to you/me, if just one of them touches a fucking goose, I'm not even gonna bother with chucking an asteroid their way like I did when I fucked up with those dinosaur things, they're going right into their sun, and that sun is going into a black hole and that blackhole is going to dissipate into nothingness because fuck 'em..."
|
I found this prompt in a file of writing ideas I came up with over the years but never returned to. I want to see what you guys can do with it. | [WP] God is all powerful, but not all knowing. In fact, he has no idea what he's doing. | He let out a long drawn out sigh as his head fell into his hands. "This won't do at all" he groaned, crumpling up the paper in front of him. "A pigeon and an alligator? What a horrible idea. It's a miracle they let the platypus slide." The more he thought about his creations, the more he wondered how the humans didn't catch onto him.
He leaned back in his chair and stared out into space. It was at times like this that he reflected on how he ended up in this mess. He never intended on being a powerful creator of life. It just wound up this way. He equates it to accidentally stumbling onto a stage, the crowd is cheering and the orchestra is waiting. You have no idea what is going on, but you know you have to do something. So far his 'something' was questionable at best.
He knew he couldn't get directly involved again, last time he tried that he was forced to flood the place and start over. Sending a disciple was a bad idea too. His last one didn't even make it to 40 years, even with his help. It was so draining to have to pay so much attention to this planet. He knew as soon as he looked away, another giant asteroid would slip past and take out all of the cool creatures he had been working on.
He wheeled his chair over to the tiny floating orb on the other side of the room and watched. As he did, he couldn't help but let out a smile. Despite all of his failed attempts and poorly implemented ideas, there was still some value in his little project. After all, watching the humans interact was what gave him the motivation to keep on being a creator.
He watched as a dog excitedly waits for it's owner to return. Dogs were one of his best ideas. Down the street he noticed a man help an elderly woman cross the street. Shifting his attention he caught a glimpse of a family of humans sitting around a table holding hands. The humans that tried to talk to him were the easiest to notice.
He let out another long sigh but not like the one from before. He was still anxious, that never changed, yet he felt refreshed. Inspired by what he had seen, he rolled his chair back to his work station. "Let's see" he grinned as he began to doodle, "what about a tiger and a fish"...
End.
| "Why don't they believe in me anymore?" Zeus asked himself- a literal duplicate of himself that he had created for these kinds of discussions. Or maybe it was the other way around? "I mean... people on Earth either have been seeing me as this kind of crazy, perfect being made of light and love, etc. or they don't believe I exist at all!"
"True, but you haven't really DONE much lately on Earth..." Zeus said, shrugging a bit at himself
"Because when I do stuff, they start saying I fucked a goose or something. I never fucked a goose! Why would I fuck a goose? Like...I'm an extra-dimensional being that exists beyond their plane of existence, those monkeys cannot begin to imagine the true extent of my power and they believe I would fuck a damn goose."
"Don't get angry... never ends up going well..."
"I turn ONE person into a pillar of salt and I will never let myself live it down!"
"Yea, the 'Pillar of Salt' thing is the *only* angry thing you did. Not the whole giant flood thing, trying to make that one guy kills his son, destroying those two cities in a firestorm..."
"THEY WERE FUCKING GEESE!"
"What is this hang up with geese?"
"They're beautiful creatures! I spent all this time designing them and all these damn monkeys do is eat and fuck them! But then they get all *amazed* at pretty lights in the sky that just kinda happened because of how I set this whole damn universe up. You know how much work I put into creating earth? Designing all those mountains? Great plains? the fjords!? They are in for a serious wake up call when they find out how I kinda just threw together the rest of the universe at the last minute..."
Zeus grumbled, to himself. Himself, personally, and not 'himself the duplicate of himself'. He started again: "Its no wonder why I don't bother with them anymore. This *new* planet of mine is doing just fine, though!"
"Did you have to make them call it 'Zeus-town' though?"
"Its a good name! And they're good creations. Trying to be a lot more 'mellow' with them... but I swear to you/me, if just one of them touches a fucking goose, I'm not even gonna bother with chucking an asteroid their way like I did when I fucked up with those dinosaur things, they're going right into their sun, and that sun is going into a black hole and that blackhole is going to dissipate into nothingness because fuck 'em..."
|
I found this prompt in a file of writing ideas I came up with over the years but never returned to. I want to see what you guys can do with it. | [WP] God is all powerful, but not all knowing. In fact, he has no idea what he's doing. | *What the fuck?! Why wouldn't that compile?! That should have worked!!!*
Everyone knows by now that they live in a computer simulation, and God is a computer programmer. But little do they know that their guy is in fact, an idiot, and doesn't have a clue what he's doing.
*I* am that computer programmer. And where I am, something new comes out practically every week. I was charged with building a computer simulation for an entire universe. Sounds like a daunting task, but the tools and frameworks available make it easier. Supposedly.
The language I had to use was called Tribunal. And while the syntax and logic seemed very similar to other languages I've used in the past, Tribunal seemed to have quirks at every corner.
"*Okay*," I thought when I was first creating it, "*Let's do this.*"
>for (j=1::7)
"*Easy*," I thought, "*Create the universe and initialize everything in seven days. Now, universals.*"
>univconst double speedOfLight = 3.00e8;
>univconst double gravConst = 6.674e-11;
Okay, good there. Now, the Ten Commandments
>univconst word commandments[9] = {"Thou shalt have no other gods before me", "Thou shalt not make unto thee any graven image", ..};
I continued going down until "Thou shalt not covet thy neighbor's animals or other possessions". Good there.
See, it all went fine for the first couple centuries. But then I realized that those so-called "universal constants" aren't actually constants. Apparently, after enough centuries of the program running those can sway and possibly do a complete 180. Because apparently, people were getting into heaven even though they should have failed at least one of the commandments.
I tried to reset the commandments every x years as a possible fix, but apparently declaring it as a univ makes it so you can't do that. The language prohibits it, because it requires you only set it once and let the program decide whether it's right or wrong morally over time depending on other random things happening in the simulation program. Basically, it's a constant, except it's not.
This is just one of my many screw ups. My advice is that if you want to play god, don't code like I do. | The almighty being known as God,
is really somewhat of a clod.
He may of created all things
from ice cream to kings,
But somehow it all still seems flawed. |
I found this prompt in a file of writing ideas I came up with over the years but never returned to. I want to see what you guys can do with it. | [WP] God is all powerful, but not all knowing. In fact, he has no idea what he's doing. | He let out a long drawn out sigh as his head fell into his hands. "This won't do at all" he groaned, crumpling up the paper in front of him. "A pigeon and an alligator? What a horrible idea. It's a miracle they let the platypus slide." The more he thought about his creations, the more he wondered how the humans didn't catch onto him.
He leaned back in his chair and stared out into space. It was at times like this that he reflected on how he ended up in this mess. He never intended on being a powerful creator of life. It just wound up this way. He equates it to accidentally stumbling onto a stage, the crowd is cheering and the orchestra is waiting. You have no idea what is going on, but you know you have to do something. So far his 'something' was questionable at best.
He knew he couldn't get directly involved again, last time he tried that he was forced to flood the place and start over. Sending a disciple was a bad idea too. His last one didn't even make it to 40 years, even with his help. It was so draining to have to pay so much attention to this planet. He knew as soon as he looked away, another giant asteroid would slip past and take out all of the cool creatures he had been working on.
He wheeled his chair over to the tiny floating orb on the other side of the room and watched. As he did, he couldn't help but let out a smile. Despite all of his failed attempts and poorly implemented ideas, there was still some value in his little project. After all, watching the humans interact was what gave him the motivation to keep on being a creator.
He watched as a dog excitedly waits for it's owner to return. Dogs were one of his best ideas. Down the street he noticed a man help an elderly woman cross the street. Shifting his attention he caught a glimpse of a family of humans sitting around a table holding hands. The humans that tried to talk to him were the easiest to notice.
He let out another long sigh but not like the one from before. He was still anxious, that never changed, yet he felt refreshed. Inspired by what he had seen, he rolled his chair back to his work station. "Let's see" he grinned as he began to doodle, "what about a tiger and a fish"...
End.
| **STEEEEVE**
God calls out, " WHAT DO YOU WANT NOW" Steve ( gods favourite angel) replies
At this time god is sitting on his throne watching the office.
" BRING ME THIS HOOMAN"
Steve floats over angrily" which human?"
God points at the television giddily.
Steve shakes his head and mutters.
God stands up, and looks at Steve.
" I am god, you do as I say and command. I made you, you shall not dishonour me or say my name in vain. You are puny and an angel, I can end you "
Steve stops, his head low and hands in his pockets.
" chill out, get off my case, stacy left me . " he says meekly
God, stunned, says " get me the hooman."
A few later, God gets up and heads to the kitchen.
There he finds Dwight, making himself a beet salad.
" who are you " says god
Dwight replies " I am Dwight Schrute, I'm here for the interview "
"What interview" says god
" the assistant to the god "
" that is Steve's job "
" was his job "
God panicks, " where is Steve?"
" Doesn't matter now" creed says as he leans over and gets a soda.
" OH FUCK " God ejaculates
" What " says Dwight.
" God floats quickly to his throne "
" GET OFF MY THRONE "
..........
" finders keepers " says Michael.
|
I found this prompt in a file of writing ideas I came up with over the years but never returned to. I want to see what you guys can do with it. | [WP] God is all powerful, but not all knowing. In fact, he has no idea what he's doing. | She flattens her thirty-seven hands against the bone of a podium that exists and doesn’t exist, depending on what plane you’re on. This is her first meeting, and she isn’t sure what to say, or what language to say it in. Eventually she settles on the cliche.
“Hi, everybody. I’m Xalendara, and I’m an Old God.”
“Hi, Xalendara!”
Good start. Good start. “I, umm --”
*It’s all right*, Ur-il-Ash’ok whispers into her very core, and she finds herself seated in the crowd with an overwhelming sense of acceptance and warmth. It’s good of the Avatar of Love to run these meetings, she decides. It makes things a little smoother.
Across the room, Tor’sah stands and comes to the podium. She steels herself. Its infinite eyes fall upon her, and she knows it’s an illusion, like one of those paintings that seem like they’re watching you no matter where you are, but it’s creepy all the same. When Tor’sah speaks, she, and everyone else in the universe, speaks on its behalf.
I AM ALL THINGS, it -- they -- say. It has a penchant for the dramatic.
“Hi, Tor’sah,” they respond.
---
They sit in seven circles, intersecting in edge planes like a cosmic venn diagram. Ur-il-Ash’ok flits between realms, doing what he can to spur on conversation.
*Why have you come, Xalendara?* he asks, and she feels like no matter what answer she gives it’ll be right, but she still has trouble coming up with one. Truth be told, she isn’t sure why she’s here.
“I guess,” she offers, “maybe I’ve just been bored. After Creation, all I’ve really been able to do is watch, you know? Most of my babies have died by now. The few that are left are struggling.”
A slithering obsidian construct across from her snarls and snaps at the air with its many mouths. It doesn’t need language to impart its point on her -- she really messed things up.
*Now, now*, Ur-il-Ash’ok starts, but Xalendara shakes her head.
“No, that’s right. I did screw it up. I thought I knew what I was doing, but I was young and I was stupid. Now look at the mess we’re in. There are more of us than them. Maybe it was a mistake giving them my power.”
WE WOULD NOT BE OTHERWISE, they all say, and she wishes for once Tor’sah would speak for himself, but it’s a fair point. She’d be alone in this room if belief and mythos hadn’t given them form, even if most of the Old Gods have long since been forgotten. Or worse -- their creators frozen in the cold of an ever-expanding universe.
“I had one chance, you know? That one --” she claps two of her hands together like the humans do. “That one bap, it took everything I had, and I --”
*You did the best you could*, Ur-il-Ash’ok says, and she feels the truth of both the words and their meaning.
“Sure. I just wish I could do something about it. Eventually, every living thing will die, and then what will I have to show for my life? Nothing. Big dead space.”
The living obsidian -- she really wishes it had a name, but that species ended itself fast -- expresses a great deal of derision and disdain. That’s what she’s here for? A mid-life crisis?
---
“Well, I’m grateful,” Aphrodite says as the two of them hover over the buffet. “Without humans, for example, I wouldn’t be here enjoying these delectable -- hm.” Her hand floats above the brownies. “I really shouldn’t. My figure and all. And besides, gluten doesn’t agree with me.” She elects instead for a bon-bon that holds a single screaming spirit inside. She moans through chocolate-specked teeth. “You know, souls were among your better ideas.”
Xalendara tries not to think about the fact that that poor creature, wherever it came from, is going to spend the rest of its afterlife in the stomach of a deity that may or may not exist depending on its point of reference. She wonders instead what the sense of taste is like. So many species have it, and it makes sense for them, but she doesn’t even have a mouth, much less a tongue. She wonders if she got it right.
“Besides, they’ll be around a while yet. I was talking to --” she says a name that cannot be pronounced the same way twice -- “over there, and his creators have an average life span of a thousand years.”
“That’s nothing,” Xalendara says. “I’ve lived so long that nobody’s invented a number to define it.”
“I’m just saying, dear, it’s not all doom and gloom. Who knows, maybe they’ll invent a way to stop it.”
“Stop -- death?”
“Stranger things have happened.”
A cold falls upon her that makes every one of her many fingers twitch. She turns and finds the sinister grins of an army of different faces -- some cloaked in darkness; some shining bright; some she’s not sure ever existed until now. The infinite shapes of death share with her their glee that they always come. She shudders.
---
YOUR NARCISSISM WAS YOUR MISTAKE, they all say. She has to admit the nugget of truth in that. Throughout the cosmos, no species has ever been truly unique; they all share some aspect, even tiny, of her. She drew inspiration from herself and maybe that’s where their weakness comes from.
*Or their strength*, Ur-il-Ash’ok says.
“Both,” Aphrodite says, licking spots of another soul off her lips. “Take the good with the bad. Your power is the one true power. We’re all products of it. Some of us --” she eyes the shifting pile of obsidian that has now overtaken its chair -- “are more bad than good. But we’re all here, and you did that. Well, they did that. After they’re gone, we’ll still be here.”
Xalendara tries to remember how they all came to be, and finds that she can’t. There are beings here that have slipped under her radar -- in stories, in mythos, in beliefs that she had none of her thirty-seven hands in. Aphrodite has a point: The grinning cold has taken species after species, and still their beliefs linger, still their stories hurtle through the cosmos to any ear or eye willing to take them in. Legends of how they came to be; myths of how they’ll die; these little fragments of her power, the one true power -- even Death can’t seem to hunt them all down.
Maybe she didn’t do so badly, after all. | **STEEEEVE**
God calls out, " WHAT DO YOU WANT NOW" Steve ( gods favourite angel) replies
At this time god is sitting on his throne watching the office.
" BRING ME THIS HOOMAN"
Steve floats over angrily" which human?"
God points at the television giddily.
Steve shakes his head and mutters.
God stands up, and looks at Steve.
" I am god, you do as I say and command. I made you, you shall not dishonour me or say my name in vain. You are puny and an angel, I can end you "
Steve stops, his head low and hands in his pockets.
" chill out, get off my case, stacy left me . " he says meekly
God, stunned, says " get me the hooman."
A few later, God gets up and heads to the kitchen.
There he finds Dwight, making himself a beet salad.
" who are you " says god
Dwight replies " I am Dwight Schrute, I'm here for the interview "
"What interview" says god
" the assistant to the god "
" that is Steve's job "
" was his job "
God panicks, " where is Steve?"
" Doesn't matter now" creed says as he leans over and gets a soda.
" OH FUCK " God ejaculates
" What " says Dwight.
" God floats quickly to his throne "
" GET OFF MY THRONE "
..........
" finders keepers " says Michael.
|
I found this prompt in a file of writing ideas I came up with over the years but never returned to. I want to see what you guys can do with it. | [WP] God is all powerful, but not all knowing. In fact, he has no idea what he's doing. | The science fair was coming up next week. Jimmy had prepared a terrarium called Earth.
*SHIT*, he thought. The Christians were just slaying everyone left and right. He needed to stop them. *Think, think, think.* The whole project was simple enough at first, but the humans had sprouted way earlier than he'd hoped. And like it said on Page 3 of "Science is FUN: Science Experiments Your Friends Will Love", humans are the terrariums worst nightmare. *But they're also the coolest part*, Jimmy thought. So he sped up the evolution process, which was easy enough; he just had to kill off the dinosaurs. But primates evolved way earlier than they normally do and despite his best efforts (the woolly mammoth, countless floods and disasters), the human race took over quicker than recommended.
And now, he was totally and utterly fucked. The fair was in three days and Earth was in disarray. He decided to try and end this whole religion thing; it wasn't working anyway. He'd figured that with enough rules and instructions from their creator, the humans may just survive together. At least long enough to last to the fair.
But the rules didn't work. With the first few attempts, they did help at stopping them from sacrificing children and he figured he could just tweak the rules and it'd all work. But people got so set on the old rules that he'd given them that they were never willing to accept the new ones. And the hordes that believed the new ones? Well, they just tended to massacre anyone that disagreed. *Which could actually work if they finished the job*, Jimmy surmised, but eventually the ones massacred would fight back. And then it just got messy.
*No*, Jimmy thought, *best to just give them a logical set of rules they can all see*. Why not call it science? After all, maybe humans could grasp the concepts with time. All he had to do was implant some theories into the right brains and it'd all work out. He coded for a few hours and decided to come back and check in on them in the morning.
But all hell had broken loose. At first, the Christians killed the early Scientists, which was to be expected. But then the Scientists started learning faster than he'd planned. And as always, the fucking humans found a way to fuck it all up. They were spilling oil everywhere, killing most of the other species, and destroying the atmosphere. If Jimmy didn't do something fast, none of Earth would last till the science fair.
And then it hit him. *What if I help them create things that are even smarter than they are*, he thought. So he had a few of them start building computers, assuming that eventually, they'd create AI. And since they'd have created it, they'd obviously trust it and build it in a way that couldn't backfire. *Even the humans aren't dumb enough to create a species that could destroy themselves, right?* So Jimmy went to sleep comfortably that night.
In the morning, Jimmy opened his closet again and sighed. *It was time to choose a new project for the fair*. And fast.
| "God..."
"..."
"GOD!"
"..."
"GOD WHAT ARE YOU DOING!?"
"I'm combining a beaver and a duck, now leave me alone"
"Why???"
"Cause I can, I'm God remember? I'm all powerful and stuff"
"Yes and you're also supposed to be all knowing, but you're still an idiot"
"HEY! Watch your mouth, I'm not a idiot, name one time I stuffed up"
"What about that time you threw a meteorite at the dinosaurs you spent years creating?"
"Um... it... I did that on purpose, yeah, it was on purpose so the humans could survive" God held back tears remembering his cute little reptilian friends.
"You ripped off Adam's rib by accident"
"No... it was to create company for him..."
"You know you didn't need a rib you liar"
"I..."
"And Pandora's Box, who's great idea was it to put all the horrible things into a box and handing it to a woman who suffered from Obsessive Curiosity Disorder?"
"I uh... I didn't know..."
"EXACTLY"
"AND THAT HITLER GUY, you just had to make sure he got rejected from art school didn't you?"
"I thought it was funny..."
"OH HOW FUNNY LOTS OF PEOPLE DIED, JESUS CHRIST!"
"What about Jesus?"
"THAT TOO, you sent your own son down to die for humanity's sins, why are they still sinning then?"
"Um..."
*"This is why I left"* Lucifer muttered under his breath,
|
[deleted] | [WP] A child gets lost in the woods and runs into a pack of wild humans. | Vanja took three steps back, painfully aware of the snow creaking beneath his boots. The leader of the pack - the biggest of the men, though still shorter than most adults he had known - stepped forward, lowering himself to the level of Vanja's eyes. There were seven of them, all naked and barefoot, tangled long hair to their backs, their scarred and bare skins pink in the cold winter air. One of the women looked pregnant. There were wolves among them, looming in the shadows behind the humans' backs.
Hesitant, Vanja sat down, taking off his backpack. The pack leader frowned, grimacing and licking his lips, settling to the ground as well. Vanja tried to not look at the effortless way the man sunk his fingers into the snow, as if unaware of the cold.
Slowly, Vanja took out the lunch he had meant for himself, offering the man a wrinkled winter apple. His grandmother had told him about these people, in hushed whispers when father was too drunk to be angry. Sensing the shift in their leader's mood, the others crept closer. The wild people. Unwanted infants left in the woods, raised by wolves, then by one-another. The man smelled the apple, grimacing. Making sure not to make sudden movements, Vanja brought the apple back to his own mouth, taking out a bite. *Food*, he wanted to explain. *This is food, I am offering you my food so you will not eat me.*
He yelled out in surprise as he turned to see one of the women going through his backpack. The woman let her own surprised yelp as she scrambled back, and the leader roared as he slammed his palm into the snow between the woman and Vanja. He glared both of them equally, whatever had offended him was both of their fault. The young woman smiled, tilting her head and cooed softly, swatting slightly to the leader's direction with her arm. What a bizarre combination, such a human facial expression among such animal gestures.
Once the leader was evidently soothed, she took a concerned frown, looking markedly at Vanja's now-opened pack, to Vanja, and the leader himself. Another woman - the pregnant one - was now at the bag, equally worried. The bag displeased them, for some reason. A young man with a scar on his back approached him, ignoring the leader's glare. Vanja yelled out again as the other boy took a harsh grip on the back of his coat, trying to pull it off. Admitting defeat, Vanja let him. Not much taller than he was, the young man was obviously stronger.
The pregnant woman let out a wordless moan, like a meow, jumping from the bag and crawling to him, icy fingers suddenly all over his back. The bruises were healing, Vanja had made sure of that before leaving the house, but the woman's wails turned louder as she forcibly turned him around, as if to show them to the leader. The others had circled around now, peering curiously at both him and the opened bag. The leader's voice was like the bellow of a bull. The woman gripped Vanja harder, moaning again, insistently. Without words, these people were *arguing*.
The others were focused on the bag now, taking out Vanja's tools. The blanket, the pocket knife, all the money he had dared to steal before leaving. All his carefully packed necessities - all he owned now - were spread among the snow, and the confused, frowning wild creatures did not find what they were looking for. They *were* looking for something. Vanja blinked.
Unwanted infants left in the woods, raised by wolves, then by one-another.
They were looking for a child.
The argument over his fate was turning intense. The pregnant woman hissed, pressing Vanja against her naked body, her sounds becoming sharp chitter of a bird. Face already red from the cold air, Vanja blushed at the thought despite of the danger. The leader grunted, turning away and raising himself upright, walking awkwardly back to the heart of the woods, where the wolves waited. The pregnant woman let out an exited shriek, and the others gathered around.
Vanja stood awkwardly as the feral folk poked and prodded him for a moment, chattering amongst themselves in the strange arrangement of wordless sounds. Yet, their interest did not last long, and they turned one by one to follow the prints the leader had left on the snow. Not knowing what else to do, Vanja looked at his spread, ruined bag, and the prints the bare feet, hands and knees had left on the snow. He followed the pack.
They let him. | ######[](#dropcap)
Ansel Platov heard the screams echo through the trees, his ears cocked towards the direction they came from. Without hesitating he kicked his mount forward, ducking under a branch as the iron-shod hooves of his horse sent up great clods of dirt and leaf litter. Letting the reins fall down onto the horse's neck he reached down to pull his recurve bow from its leather scabbard, nocking an arrow on its string as he steered with just his legs. Wordlessly, he cursed his situation. He wore no armor, nothing capable of stopping an arrow or sword cut. Wool trousers and a knit sweater did not a shirt of mail make.
The screams got louder as did the sound of other voices, exasperated curses and threats.
"Git 'im, git the little bastard!"
"Watch it, the brat's got an arm!"
For whatever reason they didn't hear the thunder of his mount's hooves nor its bellow-like lungs. Mostly Morgan with a dash of American Warmblood it easily cleared a fallen pine, the jump at the same time providing Ansel with his first clear view of what was going on.
The boy was perhaps nine or ten, his face a spray of freckles and auburn hair. The basket of spilled morels at his feet evidence of what he was doing in the woods. He had a scraped knee from where he had climbed up on a tall boulder, a throwing rock held in hand.
His half dozen attackers were exactly as Ansel expected; bandits and woodrunners, their hair long and greasy. Their clothes were all of recent make; no salvaged jeans or battered nylon jackets. Their buckskins were all decently made as were their weapons, their spears fitted with purpose made blades and self bows worked out of tough hickory. Their leader wore a cuirass of boiled leather and held a rough shete in his paw-like fist, it was him that Ansel aimed his bow at first.
"Kill the Lakelander! Kil-"
He choked on the word, the yard long arrow transfixed on his throat. The bandit leader dropped his blade and grabbed at the shaft with its fletching of grey goose, rivulets of blood leaking between his filthy clenched fingers.
"Saint Martin! Platov for Saint Martin!" Ansel shouted as he nocked another arrow on his bowstring. He let it fly, the lethal broadhead punching into another man's gut, his shrieking wails filling the air along with the stench of bloody shit.
A bandit lunged forward with a spear, the razor sharp blade missing Ansel's flesh by mere inches. With a press of his knee his horse reared up, its club like hooves flashing. Something broke in the bandit's chest as he went flying backwards like a ragdoll. The other three woodrunners saw the wisdom in retreat and scattered as fast as their feet could carry them. It wasn't enough. Ansel nocked and drew and release three arrows in as many seconds. Two found the spines of their targets, the third only punching through its man's shoulder. Scarcely paying his fallen comrades heed he stumbled on, cursing as he thrash into the undergrowth and away from sight.
The bot slid down from his perch confused.
"I don't understand, my lord. Why did you let that last one go?
Ansel Ivanovich Platov, heir to the Lord of Bear Lake gave a tired smile as he shrugged.
"Someone has to deliver the message." |
[WP]Death stared at his king, in full checkmate, and wished me luck. I had beaten death, and he couldn't take me. He didn't tell me what would... | "So... can I go back now?"
"Back?"
"Yes. Back. Back home."
"Oh no no no. That's not how it works."
If Death could smile, he'd be laughing. "What do you mean?" I stand, knocking the table. Chess pieces turn to dust at my feet, Death's king still lay shattered on the table in front of me.
"You have walked through my door, now shut and locked behind you. No one is allowed back unless under specific orders. Your body has already been cremated and soul forgotten."
"Then what was the point of the game? Is there truly no honour in death?"
Death swirls in the darkness, his voices crackling in the shadows. "That is for you to decide."
"What?"
"I retire at last. Oblivion awaits me. Choose wisely, and heed not the prayers of desperate men."
I say nothing but my thoughts echo in the empty space. "What do you mean?"
"Ave Atque Vale, Thanos. You have become death." | I thought I was invincible. If Death couldn't take me, then who could? No death-defying challenge was passed by, no game of Russian Roulette refused. I had beaten Death. Nothing could take me.
Except, of course, that all ended when I found out something could.
Cut to now. I'm running for my life - or perhaps, existence is a better term - the word 'life' is pretty much meaningless without the threat of death hanging over my head. I can hear them behind me. They're getting closer now, and I don't think I can escape this one. There won't be any games, any calculated moves, any checkmate that can help me now.
The most terrifying part is that I have no idea what will happen to me once they catch me. | |
[WP] Unbeknown to most of the world, February 29th actually happens every year, but only those born on the day experience it. | They had a leisurely breakfast. Today, there was no hurry.
Last year had been a leap year; a waste. They'd had to spend the 29th at work, in their usual routines, with their usual friends and family. Not that there was anything wrong with them! But the 29th was their day! Their birth right.
It was better now, Tom thought. Ever since his son had been born, and happened to share his unusual birthday, Tom had thought of the 29th differently.
"Nearly there. Hold still." Tom said, straightening his sons birthday hat.
At first, it had been scary. The first few times, Tom had thought the world had ended; but it doesn't take much to make a toddler feel like that. Then, his catholic upbringing suggested that he had been Left Behind. Why else would so many people be stuck in bed all day, sleeping without moving, without breathing? It wasn't till his 6th birthday that he was brave enough to explore his neighbourhood while the rest of his family lay unmoving in their beds. Someone spotted him and explained it all.
He'd made sure to be there for his son. He'd explained in bits, slowly over the years. His son was only 5, but already comfortable with both the idea of the special day just for them, and the need to not discuss it with anyone else.
The birthday hat was a bit silly; no-one needed to be told that today was his sons birthday. But his son had insisted. Tom smiled at the thought of his sons insistent little face.
"Here we are. Disneyland for your birthday! Which ride do you want to go on first?" | I awoke with a start and reached for the clock on the bedside table. 10:43! Holy shit I overslept!
A long groan escaped my lips as I swung my legs onto the floor, sitting up and rubbing my eyes. Today of all days...and I was going to accomplish so much! Well I guess there's nobody to blame but myself.
I slipped on a pair of loose sweatpants and grabbed a hoody from my closet, pulling it over my head as I shuffled down the hall to my mothers room. I flicked on the light and there she was; sound asleep with her precious chihuahua curled at her feet. I approached with a marked lack of caution and shook each of them in turn to no reaction. Perfect.
This was it, the day everyone looks forward to every year; it was my birthday! Only we select few have our own reasons for excitement. You see, we were born on the 29th of February. Tomorrow is the day for cake and parties - today is a private celebration. And the best part is, three out of four years, nobody knows it exists.
I walked out the front door with the sunshine and a smile on my face. | |
[WP] Unbeknown to most of the world, February 29th actually happens every year, but only those born on the day experience it. | They had a leisurely breakfast. Today, there was no hurry.
Last year had been a leap year; a waste. They'd had to spend the 29th at work, in their usual routines, with their usual friends and family. Not that there was anything wrong with them! But the 29th was their day! Their birth right.
It was better now, Tom thought. Ever since his son had been born, and happened to share his unusual birthday, Tom had thought of the 29th differently.
"Nearly there. Hold still." Tom said, straightening his sons birthday hat.
At first, it had been scary. The first few times, Tom had thought the world had ended; but it doesn't take much to make a toddler feel like that. Then, his catholic upbringing suggested that he had been Left Behind. Why else would so many people be stuck in bed all day, sleeping without moving, without breathing? It wasn't till his 6th birthday that he was brave enough to explore his neighbourhood while the rest of his family lay unmoving in their beds. Someone spotted him and explained it all.
He'd made sure to be there for his son. He'd explained in bits, slowly over the years. His son was only 5, but already comfortable with both the idea of the special day just for them, and the need to not discuss it with anyone else.
The birthday hat was a bit silly; no-one needed to be told that today was his sons birthday. But his son had insisted. Tom smiled at the thought of his sons insistent little face.
"Here we are. Disneyland for your birthday! Which ride do you want to go on first?" | i didn't notice the WP and thought this was a TIL, and that left me scratching my head for a good 5 minutes. | |
[WP] Unbeknown to most of the world, February 29th actually happens every year, but only those born on the day experience it. | I suck in another breath and try and control my own ragged sobs before bellowing out another scream from the depths of my tiny lungs. The screech echoes around the half lit room, but my mothers body does not move.
My breath escapes me and the rippling sobs clutch my small body again as I shake and shake the walls of my tiny crib. My small fingers are red from gripping the wooden bars, and my eyes ache from the tears. Slowly, I stumble back into the corner, breathless and silent, and wrap my blanket around me again. Silently, I mouth a desperate plea. "Mama". My eyes finally drift closed and the room around me dissolves again into nothingness.
I awake again; much later. The afternoon sun is beginning to trickle in through the curtains but my mother remains completely still, the duvet tossed roughly around her where it landed last night. I listen intently for the comforting rustle of her breathing, but here nothing.
I feel my lungs sucking in air again preparing for another scream. I brace myself against the wall of my tiny prison, hoping against hope for a familiar face, for any sign of movement.
I scream. Nothing moves. The shuddering tears return, and then the darkness swallows me once more.
A soft touch on my face wakes me suddenly, unfamiliar fingers run across my face and a set of dark eyes stare into mine. I open my mouth to scream, but no noise comes from my exhausted lungs.
"Don't cry little girl." He says. "Don't worry, everything is ok."
My heart thunders in my chest. Who is this stranger? Why is he in my house?
"We are special you and I." He whispers. "This is our day." His eyes dart around the room quickly, looking for movement. Everything remains still.
"Once a year - we are the only ones who wake." He tells me. "Tomorrow the world will be normal, but today is just for you." He gently drops a bottle at the end of the bed and then, as silently as he arrived, he is gone. But something tells me I will find him again. | Unbeknownst to most of the world, February 29th actually happens every year, but only those born on the day experience it.
Sunday, February 29, 2015: After so many frantic attempts, the lock on the window popped. I threw it open, and crashed into the room. I was far too desperate to worry about injuries or dignity, as I scrambled to the door in my sleek uniform that eliminates the possibility of detection from cameras. Hit the lock open, kick the door, without even making eye contact with the team outside turn and sprint down the hall to the assigned room. I ignore the standing body of the doctor, and of his nurses. They’d entered homeostasis, and all their muscles had tensed to prevent movement. This day was a disaster to history, and the truth was that there were no surprises in history. Math doesn’t lie, but there is a common lie, that February 29th only exists every four years.
This is the legend we are told. Many years in the future, the first time machine is invented, out of biotechnology. He goes back to the year 6000 B.C., and finds his experiment to be defective. It was the first time, he was a fool to risk all of known history. Who knows what the actual timeline was. When the machine errored, it pulsed violently, affecting everybody outside. Life reacted unexpectedly, from that point on denying the existence of February 29th. Those born on that day couldn’t deny it, because it was their life. It is impossible to fully deny the existence of yourself. It is a cruel but fortunate turn of events that he brought his wife, who was near the point of labor. He performed a c-section on his wife, and saved his son from certain death. A baby couldn’t survive twenty four hours of stasis half-in half-out of the womb. He raised that boy in the past, and trained him. He founded a society that’s been around these 8000 years. Every February 29th, we keep the world moving. We fought the other Leap Brothers (That is what we call those borth on February 29th) so that they wouldn’t take advantage of their power, we deliver children who would die, we save those in planes that can’t be piloted, those in vehicles, those on ships. We’re the deciding factor in every war. We call ourselves The Few. We are the few who know the truth.
I rhythmically snatched up the tools and began cutting. Some of us were so well versed in these motions we could spare every drop of blood. We were only limited by the dullness of the cutting tools. It was a special day, for special people, and on this day we could do special things. There were theories surrounding our society that on this day the Leap Brothers are made stronger, something having to do with the biotech in the Origin. (The name for the time machine.) Lift the child out and clean it. Give gentle CPR to stimulate the heart and lungs so that it can continue growth at this vital age. Don’t cut the umbilical cord just yet, it would suffer growth deficiency. Position it in the stiffened arms of the mother. I look between the gas container in my hand and the doctor. There are two ways to confuse his memory, and that way is no fun. I sock him in the jaw to make him dazed when he wakes up, which is about the only fun I can have on the 29th. A beeping on my side reminds me I have another appointment, so I begin to dash out with the same recklessness I demonstrating breaking in. This time I get a receiving beep from outside a window on the second floor, so I jump up to the tenth step of the stairs that I was moving parallel to. After I’d already broken into a sprint, I realize there’s a patient on a gourney in my way. I jump to straddle the top of the walls, and jump from there into a somersault to land safely on the ground. A helicopter hovers outside the window, and the beeper becomes rapid. I didn’t have time for subtlety. I crash through shoulder first, and the Leap Brother catches me smoothly. We start off instantly to save the plane with three victims. All over the world, we made things right, and we kept up the lie. | |
[WP] Unbeknown to most of the world, February 29th actually happens every year, but only those born on the day experience it. | I set the alarm half an hour earlier than usual, but I was so excited I couldn't sleep. Even a kid on Christmas Eve doesn't understand how excited I get on February 29th.
Instead of sneaking past my roommate's door--my usual habit since Alex works nights--I stomped on the floor and sang. I'll admit it, I sang Katy Perry songs. It's not like he could hear me, not on February 29th.
The deal is, for most people, February 29th happens every four years. A leap day to make sure the 365 day calendar keeps up with the actual movement of the planets. It's pretty boring, even for me. You go to work or school like normal. Chores happen, obligations go on like nothing's happening. But for those of us who were born on Leap Day, things get a little different.
I guess somebody (God probably) felt bad for us only getting 1/4 of the birthdays everyone else did. I'm not sure why He felt bad for us instead of the kids starving in Africa or whatever, but that's how it worked out. So, for the other three years in the four year leap cycle, all of us Leap Babies get an extra day.
Everybody else is out cold (trust me, we've tried everything to wake them up), and we get a day to do whatever we want. We tried to tell them, but they thought we were joking, so we stopped trying. They don't get a free day every year, and we didn't want to make them feel bad.
Every year, I'd go out into the world, meet the other Leap Day people, and, yes, sing Katy Perry at the top of my lungs. And that's how it went until about two years ago, when I met Jenny.
I was at the bar with a few of my leap day friends, and she was the new bartender. New in town. Gorgeous. Smart. Quick with a joke. And did I say gorgeous? We ended up talking through most of the day, and even though she’d quit her bartending gig, the next leap day, we made plans to hang out. And we did. All day. Just us.
And *nobody made a move*. I'm not sure if she wanted to. I know I did, but I wasn't going to. I kicked myself all year, so this year I've got to do it.
We've hung out once or twice in between, mostly movies or a few drinks with friends, but it's never like Leap Day. It's hard to explain to someone who hasn't been there, but I guess since it's a free day, everyone's having more fun. Everyone feels like they can get more intimate. It feels more special. It's our own personal almost-annual John Hughes movie.
So yeah, I got up early. I took a long shower, actually tried to make myself look nice, and shot Jenny a text.
*9:30, the usual place?*
*We'll be there.*
We?
We?
Did she find another Leap Day buddy for her to hook up with? Or is she wanting to make this a group hangout thing? I mean, I guess that's her prerogative since I haven't said anything, but it still feels unfair. But, I should keep it cool.
*Who all's meeting up?*
See? No exclamation points anywhere. I kept it cool.
*You, me, and I'm bringing my friend Casey (Old college friend. Visiting for Leap. Super cool.). That cool with you?*
Not cool.
*Cool.*
Casey. Gender neutral name. Old college friend. I’m trying to figure out as much about the relationship as I could from about 20 words. It’s not working great. College friend means if they wanted to do something, they would have then, right? But who comes from who knows how far away to visit just for Leap Day? It’d be nice to have Alex’s opinion, but Leapday clearly means that’s not happening.
It’s a little late for me to come down with a leap day cold, so I bundled up to go out into the February chill.
We met at the bar. Casey, for those of you keeping score at home, was much better looking than me. Also, super cool. Good taste in movies and music. Knew how to talk about politics without sounding pompous. Actually stays in shape and plays sports. Basically my nightmare. It’s 8pm, but I’m already declaring this, far and away, the worst Leap Day ever.
Jenny’s saying something. I should have been listening.
“Is that ok with you?”
“Oh. Yeah.” I should have been listening.
“Cool. Nice meeting you!” Casey said, giving me one of those high five handshakes.
Jenny looked a little apologetic. “I’ll catch up with you tomorrow, alright?”
So, the cute girl just left with someone else. I have another day like this with the cute girl for two years now since next year is everyone’s leap day, and the cute girl just left with someone else. Now this is the worst Leap Day.
TV wasn’t numbing things as well as I’d liked, so I just passed out early. Even if tomorrow sucks, at least work days are supposed to suck. I shuffled past Alex’s door as quietly as possible, but probably not quietly enough, then trudged out the door.
Just to make the whole picture more poetic, it was raining, the snow was slushy and I missed my train.
My phone buzzed. Jenny. One word.
*Lunch?*
The morning flew by.
“Thanks for letting Casey hang out,” Jenny said. “We always did Leap Day together in school. There were only a few of us there”
“Um, yeah. Sure. No problem.”
“So I didn’t know how to say no when Casey wanted to visit. It was last minute, and I didn’t want to just ditch you outright. I’m sorry” She looks nervous, embarrassed, maybe? That doesn’t make sense.
“It’s no big deal. Really. Casey was great.” What am I supposed to say here? Does she want my blessing? I guess it’s time to practice acting like I’m ok with this. “Do you guys want to go see a movie or something?”
Jenny looked at me, puzzled. “Casey left last night. One of those super cheap Leap Day only busses. That’s why we left, remember?”
“Right. I’m sorry.”
“I’m sorry I left, though. Last Leap Day was really fun.” She paused, looking down at her food as she poked it.
“Do you want to do that next Leap Day?” I asked.
“It’s a normal Leap Day.”
“I know, we could pretend.”
She smiled. “That would be really great.”
I would say my brain stopped processing. That would be dramatic and romantic, but to be perfectly honest, my brain hadn’t been processing properly.since I first saw the name “Casey.” This is when it finally started working again. Maybe it was a little clouded because of how happy Jenny’s smile made me, because of what that smile might imply, but it was processing again. I could tell my leg was tapping like crazy under the table, but I was too excited to make it stop.
“Actually,” I said, “Would you mind making that tomorrow? It’s a Saturday, neither of us are working. If we’re already fudging it, we could make it tomorrow.”
She beamed. I don’t know if I’d ever seen her smile like that. “9:30? The usual place?”
It might be a little early to say, but I’m calling it now. March 2: Best Leap Day, ever. | Unbeknownst to most of the world, February 29th actually happens every year, but only those born on the day experience it.
Sunday, February 29, 2015: After so many frantic attempts, the lock on the window popped. I threw it open, and crashed into the room. I was far too desperate to worry about injuries or dignity, as I scrambled to the door in my sleek uniform that eliminates the possibility of detection from cameras. Hit the lock open, kick the door, without even making eye contact with the team outside turn and sprint down the hall to the assigned room. I ignore the standing body of the doctor, and of his nurses. They’d entered homeostasis, and all their muscles had tensed to prevent movement. This day was a disaster to history, and the truth was that there were no surprises in history. Math doesn’t lie, but there is a common lie, that February 29th only exists every four years.
This is the legend we are told. Many years in the future, the first time machine is invented, out of biotechnology. He goes back to the year 6000 B.C., and finds his experiment to be defective. It was the first time, he was a fool to risk all of known history. Who knows what the actual timeline was. When the machine errored, it pulsed violently, affecting everybody outside. Life reacted unexpectedly, from that point on denying the existence of February 29th. Those born on that day couldn’t deny it, because it was their life. It is impossible to fully deny the existence of yourself. It is a cruel but fortunate turn of events that he brought his wife, who was near the point of labor. He performed a c-section on his wife, and saved his son from certain death. A baby couldn’t survive twenty four hours of stasis half-in half-out of the womb. He raised that boy in the past, and trained him. He founded a society that’s been around these 8000 years. Every February 29th, we keep the world moving. We fought the other Leap Brothers (That is what we call those borth on February 29th) so that they wouldn’t take advantage of their power, we deliver children who would die, we save those in planes that can’t be piloted, those in vehicles, those on ships. We’re the deciding factor in every war. We call ourselves The Few. We are the few who know the truth.
I rhythmically snatched up the tools and began cutting. Some of us were so well versed in these motions we could spare every drop of blood. We were only limited by the dullness of the cutting tools. It was a special day, for special people, and on this day we could do special things. There were theories surrounding our society that on this day the Leap Brothers are made stronger, something having to do with the biotech in the Origin. (The name for the time machine.) Lift the child out and clean it. Give gentle CPR to stimulate the heart and lungs so that it can continue growth at this vital age. Don’t cut the umbilical cord just yet, it would suffer growth deficiency. Position it in the stiffened arms of the mother. I look between the gas container in my hand and the doctor. There are two ways to confuse his memory, and that way is no fun. I sock him in the jaw to make him dazed when he wakes up, which is about the only fun I can have on the 29th. A beeping on my side reminds me I have another appointment, so I begin to dash out with the same recklessness I demonstrating breaking in. This time I get a receiving beep from outside a window on the second floor, so I jump up to the tenth step of the stairs that I was moving parallel to. After I’d already broken into a sprint, I realize there’s a patient on a gourney in my way. I jump to straddle the top of the walls, and jump from there into a somersault to land safely on the ground. A helicopter hovers outside the window, and the beeper becomes rapid. I didn’t have time for subtlety. I crash through shoulder first, and the Leap Brother catches me smoothly. We start off instantly to save the plane with three victims. All over the world, we made things right, and we kept up the lie. | |
[WP] Unbeknown to most of the world, February 29th actually happens every year, but only those born on the day experience it. | I set the alarm half an hour earlier than usual, but I was so excited I couldn't sleep. Even a kid on Christmas Eve doesn't understand how excited I get on February 29th.
Instead of sneaking past my roommate's door--my usual habit since Alex works nights--I stomped on the floor and sang. I'll admit it, I sang Katy Perry songs. It's not like he could hear me, not on February 29th.
The deal is, for most people, February 29th happens every four years. A leap day to make sure the 365 day calendar keeps up with the actual movement of the planets. It's pretty boring, even for me. You go to work or school like normal. Chores happen, obligations go on like nothing's happening. But for those of us who were born on Leap Day, things get a little different.
I guess somebody (God probably) felt bad for us only getting 1/4 of the birthdays everyone else did. I'm not sure why He felt bad for us instead of the kids starving in Africa or whatever, but that's how it worked out. So, for the other three years in the four year leap cycle, all of us Leap Babies get an extra day.
Everybody else is out cold (trust me, we've tried everything to wake them up), and we get a day to do whatever we want. We tried to tell them, but they thought we were joking, so we stopped trying. They don't get a free day every year, and we didn't want to make them feel bad.
Every year, I'd go out into the world, meet the other Leap Day people, and, yes, sing Katy Perry at the top of my lungs. And that's how it went until about two years ago, when I met Jenny.
I was at the bar with a few of my leap day friends, and she was the new bartender. New in town. Gorgeous. Smart. Quick with a joke. And did I say gorgeous? We ended up talking through most of the day, and even though she’d quit her bartending gig, the next leap day, we made plans to hang out. And we did. All day. Just us.
And *nobody made a move*. I'm not sure if she wanted to. I know I did, but I wasn't going to. I kicked myself all year, so this year I've got to do it.
We've hung out once or twice in between, mostly movies or a few drinks with friends, but it's never like Leap Day. It's hard to explain to someone who hasn't been there, but I guess since it's a free day, everyone's having more fun. Everyone feels like they can get more intimate. It feels more special. It's our own personal almost-annual John Hughes movie.
So yeah, I got up early. I took a long shower, actually tried to make myself look nice, and shot Jenny a text.
*9:30, the usual place?*
*We'll be there.*
We?
We?
Did she find another Leap Day buddy for her to hook up with? Or is she wanting to make this a group hangout thing? I mean, I guess that's her prerogative since I haven't said anything, but it still feels unfair. But, I should keep it cool.
*Who all's meeting up?*
See? No exclamation points anywhere. I kept it cool.
*You, me, and I'm bringing my friend Casey (Old college friend. Visiting for Leap. Super cool.). That cool with you?*
Not cool.
*Cool.*
Casey. Gender neutral name. Old college friend. I’m trying to figure out as much about the relationship as I could from about 20 words. It’s not working great. College friend means if they wanted to do something, they would have then, right? But who comes from who knows how far away to visit just for Leap Day? It’d be nice to have Alex’s opinion, but Leapday clearly means that’s not happening.
It’s a little late for me to come down with a leap day cold, so I bundled up to go out into the February chill.
We met at the bar. Casey, for those of you keeping score at home, was much better looking than me. Also, super cool. Good taste in movies and music. Knew how to talk about politics without sounding pompous. Actually stays in shape and plays sports. Basically my nightmare. It’s 8pm, but I’m already declaring this, far and away, the worst Leap Day ever.
Jenny’s saying something. I should have been listening.
“Is that ok with you?”
“Oh. Yeah.” I should have been listening.
“Cool. Nice meeting you!” Casey said, giving me one of those high five handshakes.
Jenny looked a little apologetic. “I’ll catch up with you tomorrow, alright?”
So, the cute girl just left with someone else. I have another day like this with the cute girl for two years now since next year is everyone’s leap day, and the cute girl just left with someone else. Now this is the worst Leap Day.
TV wasn’t numbing things as well as I’d liked, so I just passed out early. Even if tomorrow sucks, at least work days are supposed to suck. I shuffled past Alex’s door as quietly as possible, but probably not quietly enough, then trudged out the door.
Just to make the whole picture more poetic, it was raining, the snow was slushy and I missed my train.
My phone buzzed. Jenny. One word.
*Lunch?*
The morning flew by.
“Thanks for letting Casey hang out,” Jenny said. “We always did Leap Day together in school. There were only a few of us there”
“Um, yeah. Sure. No problem.”
“So I didn’t know how to say no when Casey wanted to visit. It was last minute, and I didn’t want to just ditch you outright. I’m sorry” She looks nervous, embarrassed, maybe? That doesn’t make sense.
“It’s no big deal. Really. Casey was great.” What am I supposed to say here? Does she want my blessing? I guess it’s time to practice acting like I’m ok with this. “Do you guys want to go see a movie or something?”
Jenny looked at me, puzzled. “Casey left last night. One of those super cheap Leap Day only busses. That’s why we left, remember?”
“Right. I’m sorry.”
“I’m sorry I left, though. Last Leap Day was really fun.” She paused, looking down at her food as she poked it.
“Do you want to do that next Leap Day?” I asked.
“It’s a normal Leap Day.”
“I know, we could pretend.”
She smiled. “That would be really great.”
I would say my brain stopped processing. That would be dramatic and romantic, but to be perfectly honest, my brain hadn’t been processing properly.since I first saw the name “Casey.” This is when it finally started working again. Maybe it was a little clouded because of how happy Jenny’s smile made me, because of what that smile might imply, but it was processing again. I could tell my leg was tapping like crazy under the table, but I was too excited to make it stop.
“Actually,” I said, “Would you mind making that tomorrow? It’s a Saturday, neither of us are working. If we’re already fudging it, we could make it tomorrow.”
She beamed. I don’t know if I’d ever seen her smile like that. “9:30? The usual place?”
It might be a little early to say, but I’m calling it now. March 2: Best Leap Day, ever. | I suck in another breath and try and control my own ragged sobs before bellowing out another scream from the depths of my tiny lungs. The screech echoes around the half lit room, but my mothers body does not move.
My breath escapes me and the rippling sobs clutch my small body again as I shake and shake the walls of my tiny crib. My small fingers are red from gripping the wooden bars, and my eyes ache from the tears. Slowly, I stumble back into the corner, breathless and silent, and wrap my blanket around me again. Silently, I mouth a desperate plea. "Mama". My eyes finally drift closed and the room around me dissolves again into nothingness.
I awake again; much later. The afternoon sun is beginning to trickle in through the curtains but my mother remains completely still, the duvet tossed roughly around her where it landed last night. I listen intently for the comforting rustle of her breathing, but here nothing.
I feel my lungs sucking in air again preparing for another scream. I brace myself against the wall of my tiny prison, hoping against hope for a familiar face, for any sign of movement.
I scream. Nothing moves. The shuddering tears return, and then the darkness swallows me once more.
A soft touch on my face wakes me suddenly, unfamiliar fingers run across my face and a set of dark eyes stare into mine. I open my mouth to scream, but no noise comes from my exhausted lungs.
"Don't cry little girl." He says. "Don't worry, everything is ok."
My heart thunders in my chest. Who is this stranger? Why is he in my house?
"We are special you and I." He whispers. "This is our day." His eyes dart around the room quickly, looking for movement. Everything remains still.
"Once a year - we are the only ones who wake." He tells me. "Tomorrow the world will be normal, but today is just for you." He gently drops a bottle at the end of the bed and then, as silently as he arrived, he is gone. But something tells me I will find him again. | |
[WP] Unbeknown to most of the world, February 29th actually happens every year, but only those born on the day experience it. | My vision goes cloudy, everything I see bends and twists into distorted shapes and a loud ringing fills my ears. However, it is over as quickly as it started, and when I can see clearly again, I am alone in my living room. It had been occupied just a moment before by my whole family, but now, it is Febuary 29th, a day that they can not experience.
Nobody knows where the non leapers go, but we have a lot of theories. The one most of us believe is that us leapers get pulled into some alternate version of reality that only exists for a day, where only people born on Febuary the 29th exist. When the day ends, we get put back exactly when, and where we were when the day started. Of course, that's just a theory, no one really knows.
I hear a cry from the apartment next door, and I sigh. This is what the day consists of mostly. It's not some fun exclusive party, it's just a day where all adult leapers have to take care of the children who don't know what the fuck is going on and miss their parents. It's tiresome, and boring, and all of us hate the whole day.
I walk out into the hallway toward the sound, and knock on the door. Two identical girls answer the door, tears streaming down their cheeks. Must be twins.
"Our mommy! She's gone, she disappeared right in front of us!" One of the girls screamed.
I didn't even blink at the complaint. This was a normal occurrence. "Don't worry, she'll be back tomorrow. What're you two doing up this late anyway?" I asked in a calm voice. Normally I don't start hearing crying until the morning when all the kids are starting to wake up.
"Sh-she let us stay up to count down to midnight. It's our birthday, we're turning six. But when the clock struck twelve, poof, gone." She illustrated the poof with a flair of her hands.
"The reason she's gone is that it's Febuary 29th. Only people born today get to experience it. That means you're special." I said, resting a hand on one of their shoulders.
"Special?" They said simultaneously.
"Yes, special, just like me." After a bit of convincing, I brought them back to my apartment and put them to bed on the couch. As the day went on, more cries could be heard, and by the time the day was almost over, my apartment was filled with about 10 destructive children, and 5 crying babies. I was nearly pulling my hair out trying to take care of them all.
Then, the clock struck 12:00 and they all disappeared, my family reappeared, and right as they began to sing happy birthday I collapsed onto the floor, asleep.
I hated Febuary 29th.
| Dad dropped me off at The Manor. He leaned over, and opened the car door. An icy chill hung in the air and the frost glistened in the moonlight, clinging to the frames of the Volvo's windows.
He checked his watch, 11:58pm. He sighed, "Just on time." He pecked me on the cheek, "be safe, see you in five minutes." He shook his head, and I stepped out of the car, the frozen gravel crunching beneath my wellington boots. He put his hand up and raised his eyebrows in an awkward "I-don't-really-know-what-I'm-doing-here" way, and I raised one mitten back.
I rubbed where he'd kissed me. To everyone else I was 4, going on 5. To my kind, I was 15 and like every other normal 15 year old, hated any form of affection from my parents. I watched the putrid plume of smoke erupt from the exhaust as the car sputtered away, and freeze at the end of the driveway. So it was true.
The leaves on the treas were suspended in dramatic positions, the hedgehog shuffling along the edge of the grassy field, opposite The Manor, paused with one leg taking the longest step it would never know that it was taking. The night was still, apart from the thumping music bleeding through the walls of The Manor.
I rummaged in my pockets and pulled out the gold-edged crumpled invitation:
****
Miss Rachel Alice McEvans
Of the Devonshire County
Is Cordially Invited To
The 29th February Association Annual Birthday Celebration
At Greenwings Golf Manor
Midnight until Midnight, Formal Attire
The Heads of TFA.
****
My first Twenty-Ninth February Birthday. I felt the bile rise up in my throat in anxiety and I swallowed it back down. No one had taken me seriously, thinking that it had been a prank. I too had shoved scoffed and shoved the invitation in my desk drawer, thinking it was a stupid joke by someone at school. Until Claire Fernley, my sister's friend, had asked me if I'd got my invitation, and if I was going.
"What invitation?" I shrugged.
She showed me hers, and I felt my skin prickle.
"So that was you that sent that?" I rolled my eyes, trying not to look flustered.
She smiled, "you thought it was a joke too?"
"I know it's a joke," I corrected her. "Why would anyone send me an invitation to a fake date? It's a pretty boring prank. I'll celebrate my birthday on 1st March, like I always do."
"Listen, it's not a joke," she smiled. "I remember MY first 29th February party. I thought it was someone making fun of me too, and my parents refused to take me. I sneaked out. Turns out it wasn't difficult, time stops or 29th February children, once you hit 15, so my parents didn't even know I was gone. It's a fun event. I'll be there."
"I'll see."
I had used last year's birthday money to buy a formal outfit, Dad had agreed to drive to the end of the driveway and turn back back, picking me up after five minutes, as long as I was with Claire. What could go wrong in five minutes anyway?
Someone tapped my shoulder and I spun round, my fists clenched. It was Claire.
"Nervous?" she laughed. She hooked her arm into mine, "let's go in. I'm STARVING."
| |
[WP] Unbeknown to most of the world, February 29th actually happens every year, but only those born on the day experience it. | I drove through the February 29th fog like a maniac.
Jane had called the night before, letting me know there were five, not one or two but five babies this year and she couldn't make it. Apparently there had been a delay and she would be stuck in an airplane for today. I shivered just thinking about it. Regular February 29ths were bad enough, but an airplane?
As I swerved through the frozen traffic I cursed at the wrinkle of fate of being born on the 29th of February. Whenever I tell people that they laugh and make a joke about only having a birthday every four years.
If they only knew.
----
I remember when I was three years old trying to wake my mother who just wouldn't move. I probably cried a lot. Thankfully, there was food in the fridge, though it was really hard to open. The next morning everything was normal and I tried telling her... well, three-year-olds aren't the most eloquent bunch and *"I spent a day without you!"* just wasn't in the books.
It happened again when I was five years old, and again at six and seven. I was fully expecting it to happen on the 8th as well, but of course my birthday happened. Then, with the impeccable logic of an 8-year-old I figured it out: February 29th happened every year, but only to me. I tried finding books about it in the library but I just managed to confuse some librarians and left frustrated.
The next year I got clever. Why not go to a store and pick up something expensive? 9-year-old me giggled a lot the previous day *(Mom was happy, it was my non-birthday, after all)* and made preparations: A backpack full of chocolate bars and my bike were going to deliver me to the promised land of ALL THE TOYS.
Turns out all the stores were closed. Much later I figured out that the world just froze at midnight and most places would quite simply be closed. Electronic doors don't work, mechanical things like bikes are *really* heavy to pedal and most cars just refuse to start. At 9 years old I was just miserable and convinced the world was out to get me.
----
Dodging a particularly annoying row of trucks I stopped reminiscing and focused on the task ahead. The story is simple: Most people who are born on February 29th just... die on their first birthday. It's not the fault of their parents, how the hell could you prepare for your baby to just live a nonexisting day without you being there to feed them? I have no idea how I survived, probably had just been fed really well before midnight and caused a scare for my mother the next midnight *(same midnight for her)* when I was unmoving and almost dead. Dumb luck, what a reason to be alive, eh?
So every four years I kept a close eye on births announced on the 29th of February and the next two years I tried breaking every speed record to make it to all of them in time. I couldn't get them all, of course, and I had to stop following other cities' birth records after a particular year of seeing a hundred births across the country.
I made it a point not to keep track of deaths, and I stopped at two years. Ever tried feeding a three-year-old when they don't know you, their parents and the rest of the world are frozen in time? Yeah, didn't think so. I also didn't leave any sort of notes for the kids. I'd gotten in trouble before when there was a homicide nearby and my fingerprints were found. Thankfully I had an airtight alibi of being half the country over and they just chalked it up to weirdness.
I hadn't met many people who were 29ers *(pardon the pun)*, and those I had tended to run away when they saw me so I figured it's not exactly a club. The only one I kept contact with was Jane, she shared my mission and now dozens of kids would probably die because she was stuck in an airplane, because of some stupid detour the plane had to take. Still, couldn't really be mad at her, 24 hours stuck on an airplane must be shit. The air probably gets stale, the pressure eats at you like nobody's business and the food is awful. Not to mention every time you look outside you're probably thinking about all the laws of physics that are being stretched horribly thin right now.
Leaving the last house I had broken into to feed a baby *(these days I just kept a full stock of formula in the car)* I heard a noise. I hear you roll your eyes, a noise? Good heavens! Laugh all you want, but in the world of February 29th there is no noise you don't make. Heck, the world is all sort of foggy and nothing moves. They're not exactly frozen solid or anything, everything just really, really, *really* doesn't want to move. So now there was a noise and I had no idea what to do.
I decided to ignore it, I still had a bunch of places to go, jumped into my car and drove off. Literally the next street over I almost run over someone who was moving. Actually moving. So someone like me. Big guy, too, but I'd gotten used to people running away from me on the 29th. This guy wasn't, though. I stuck my head and arm out the window and waved.
Then I saw the axe. | Dad dropped me off at The Manor. He leaned over, and opened the car door. An icy chill hung in the air and the frost glistened in the moonlight, clinging to the frames of the Volvo's windows.
He checked his watch, 11:58pm. He sighed, "Just on time." He pecked me on the cheek, "be safe, see you in five minutes." He shook his head, and I stepped out of the car, the frozen gravel crunching beneath my wellington boots. He put his hand up and raised his eyebrows in an awkward "I-don't-really-know-what-I'm-doing-here" way, and I raised one mitten back.
I rubbed where he'd kissed me. To everyone else I was 4, going on 5. To my kind, I was 15 and like every other normal 15 year old, hated any form of affection from my parents. I watched the putrid plume of smoke erupt from the exhaust as the car sputtered away, and freeze at the end of the driveway. So it was true.
The leaves on the treas were suspended in dramatic positions, the hedgehog shuffling along the edge of the grassy field, opposite The Manor, paused with one leg taking the longest step it would never know that it was taking. The night was still, apart from the thumping music bleeding through the walls of The Manor.
I rummaged in my pockets and pulled out the gold-edged crumpled invitation:
****
Miss Rachel Alice McEvans
Of the Devonshire County
Is Cordially Invited To
The 29th February Association Annual Birthday Celebration
At Greenwings Golf Manor
Midnight until Midnight, Formal Attire
The Heads of TFA.
****
My first Twenty-Ninth February Birthday. I felt the bile rise up in my throat in anxiety and I swallowed it back down. No one had taken me seriously, thinking that it had been a prank. I too had shoved scoffed and shoved the invitation in my desk drawer, thinking it was a stupid joke by someone at school. Until Claire Fernley, my sister's friend, had asked me if I'd got my invitation, and if I was going.
"What invitation?" I shrugged.
She showed me hers, and I felt my skin prickle.
"So that was you that sent that?" I rolled my eyes, trying not to look flustered.
She smiled, "you thought it was a joke too?"
"I know it's a joke," I corrected her. "Why would anyone send me an invitation to a fake date? It's a pretty boring prank. I'll celebrate my birthday on 1st March, like I always do."
"Listen, it's not a joke," she smiled. "I remember MY first 29th February party. I thought it was someone making fun of me too, and my parents refused to take me. I sneaked out. Turns out it wasn't difficult, time stops or 29th February children, once you hit 15, so my parents didn't even know I was gone. It's a fun event. I'll be there."
"I'll see."
I had used last year's birthday money to buy a formal outfit, Dad had agreed to drive to the end of the driveway and turn back back, picking me up after five minutes, as long as I was with Claire. What could go wrong in five minutes anyway?
Someone tapped my shoulder and I spun round, my fists clenched. It was Claire.
"Nervous?" she laughed. She hooked her arm into mine, "let's go in. I'm STARVING."
| |
[WP] Unbeknown to most of the world, February 29th actually happens every year, but only those born on the day experience it. | I drove through the February 29th fog like a maniac.
Jane had called the night before, letting me know there were five, not one or two but five babies this year and she couldn't make it. Apparently there had been a delay and she would be stuck in an airplane for today. I shivered just thinking about it. Regular February 29ths were bad enough, but an airplane?
As I swerved through the frozen traffic I cursed at the wrinkle of fate of being born on the 29th of February. Whenever I tell people that they laugh and make a joke about only having a birthday every four years.
If they only knew.
----
I remember when I was three years old trying to wake my mother who just wouldn't move. I probably cried a lot. Thankfully, there was food in the fridge, though it was really hard to open. The next morning everything was normal and I tried telling her... well, three-year-olds aren't the most eloquent bunch and *"I spent a day without you!"* just wasn't in the books.
It happened again when I was five years old, and again at six and seven. I was fully expecting it to happen on the 8th as well, but of course my birthday happened. Then, with the impeccable logic of an 8-year-old I figured it out: February 29th happened every year, but only to me. I tried finding books about it in the library but I just managed to confuse some librarians and left frustrated.
The next year I got clever. Why not go to a store and pick up something expensive? 9-year-old me giggled a lot the previous day *(Mom was happy, it was my non-birthday, after all)* and made preparations: A backpack full of chocolate bars and my bike were going to deliver me to the promised land of ALL THE TOYS.
Turns out all the stores were closed. Much later I figured out that the world just froze at midnight and most places would quite simply be closed. Electronic doors don't work, mechanical things like bikes are *really* heavy to pedal and most cars just refuse to start. At 9 years old I was just miserable and convinced the world was out to get me.
----
Dodging a particularly annoying row of trucks I stopped reminiscing and focused on the task ahead. The story is simple: Most people who are born on February 29th just... die on their first birthday. It's not the fault of their parents, how the hell could you prepare for your baby to just live a nonexisting day without you being there to feed them? I have no idea how I survived, probably had just been fed really well before midnight and caused a scare for my mother the next midnight *(same midnight for her)* when I was unmoving and almost dead. Dumb luck, what a reason to be alive, eh?
So every four years I kept a close eye on births announced on the 29th of February and the next two years I tried breaking every speed record to make it to all of them in time. I couldn't get them all, of course, and I had to stop following other cities' birth records after a particular year of seeing a hundred births across the country.
I made it a point not to keep track of deaths, and I stopped at two years. Ever tried feeding a three-year-old when they don't know you, their parents and the rest of the world are frozen in time? Yeah, didn't think so. I also didn't leave any sort of notes for the kids. I'd gotten in trouble before when there was a homicide nearby and my fingerprints were found. Thankfully I had an airtight alibi of being half the country over and they just chalked it up to weirdness.
I hadn't met many people who were 29ers *(pardon the pun)*, and those I had tended to run away when they saw me so I figured it's not exactly a club. The only one I kept contact with was Jane, she shared my mission and now dozens of kids would probably die because she was stuck in an airplane, because of some stupid detour the plane had to take. Still, couldn't really be mad at her, 24 hours stuck on an airplane must be shit. The air probably gets stale, the pressure eats at you like nobody's business and the food is awful. Not to mention every time you look outside you're probably thinking about all the laws of physics that are being stretched horribly thin right now.
Leaving the last house I had broken into to feed a baby *(these days I just kept a full stock of formula in the car)* I heard a noise. I hear you roll your eyes, a noise? Good heavens! Laugh all you want, but in the world of February 29th there is no noise you don't make. Heck, the world is all sort of foggy and nothing moves. They're not exactly frozen solid or anything, everything just really, really, *really* doesn't want to move. So now there was a noise and I had no idea what to do.
I decided to ignore it, I still had a bunch of places to go, jumped into my car and drove off. Literally the next street over I almost run over someone who was moving. Actually moving. So someone like me. Big guy, too, but I'd gotten used to people running away from me on the 29th. This guy wasn't, though. I stuck my head and arm out the window and waved.
Then I saw the axe. | My vision goes cloudy, everything I see bends and twists into distorted shapes and a loud ringing fills my ears. However, it is over as quickly as it started, and when I can see clearly again, I am alone in my living room. It had been occupied just a moment before by my whole family, but now, it is Febuary 29th, a day that they can not experience.
Nobody knows where the non leapers go, but we have a lot of theories. The one most of us believe is that us leapers get pulled into some alternate version of reality that only exists for a day, where only people born on Febuary the 29th exist. When the day ends, we get put back exactly when, and where we were when the day started. Of course, that's just a theory, no one really knows.
I hear a cry from the apartment next door, and I sigh. This is what the day consists of mostly. It's not some fun exclusive party, it's just a day where all adult leapers have to take care of the children who don't know what the fuck is going on and miss their parents. It's tiresome, and boring, and all of us hate the whole day.
I walk out into the hallway toward the sound, and knock on the door. Two identical girls answer the door, tears streaming down their cheeks. Must be twins.
"Our mommy! She's gone, she disappeared right in front of us!" One of the girls screamed.
I didn't even blink at the complaint. This was a normal occurrence. "Don't worry, she'll be back tomorrow. What're you two doing up this late anyway?" I asked in a calm voice. Normally I don't start hearing crying until the morning when all the kids are starting to wake up.
"Sh-she let us stay up to count down to midnight. It's our birthday, we're turning six. But when the clock struck twelve, poof, gone." She illustrated the poof with a flair of her hands.
"The reason she's gone is that it's Febuary 29th. Only people born today get to experience it. That means you're special." I said, resting a hand on one of their shoulders.
"Special?" They said simultaneously.
"Yes, special, just like me." After a bit of convincing, I brought them back to my apartment and put them to bed on the couch. As the day went on, more cries could be heard, and by the time the day was almost over, my apartment was filled with about 10 destructive children, and 5 crying babies. I was nearly pulling my hair out trying to take care of them all.
Then, the clock struck 12:00 and they all disappeared, my family reappeared, and right as they began to sing happy birthday I collapsed onto the floor, asleep.
I hated Febuary 29th.
| |
[WP] Unbeknown to most of the world, February 29th actually happens every year, but only those born on the day experience it. | I drove through the February 29th fog like a maniac.
Jane had called the night before, letting me know there were five, not one or two but five babies this year and she couldn't make it. Apparently there had been a delay and she would be stuck in an airplane for today. I shivered just thinking about it. Regular February 29ths were bad enough, but an airplane?
As I swerved through the frozen traffic I cursed at the wrinkle of fate of being born on the 29th of February. Whenever I tell people that they laugh and make a joke about only having a birthday every four years.
If they only knew.
----
I remember when I was three years old trying to wake my mother who just wouldn't move. I probably cried a lot. Thankfully, there was food in the fridge, though it was really hard to open. The next morning everything was normal and I tried telling her... well, three-year-olds aren't the most eloquent bunch and *"I spent a day without you!"* just wasn't in the books.
It happened again when I was five years old, and again at six and seven. I was fully expecting it to happen on the 8th as well, but of course my birthday happened. Then, with the impeccable logic of an 8-year-old I figured it out: February 29th happened every year, but only to me. I tried finding books about it in the library but I just managed to confuse some librarians and left frustrated.
The next year I got clever. Why not go to a store and pick up something expensive? 9-year-old me giggled a lot the previous day *(Mom was happy, it was my non-birthday, after all)* and made preparations: A backpack full of chocolate bars and my bike were going to deliver me to the promised land of ALL THE TOYS.
Turns out all the stores were closed. Much later I figured out that the world just froze at midnight and most places would quite simply be closed. Electronic doors don't work, mechanical things like bikes are *really* heavy to pedal and most cars just refuse to start. At 9 years old I was just miserable and convinced the world was out to get me.
----
Dodging a particularly annoying row of trucks I stopped reminiscing and focused on the task ahead. The story is simple: Most people who are born on February 29th just... die on their first birthday. It's not the fault of their parents, how the hell could you prepare for your baby to just live a nonexisting day without you being there to feed them? I have no idea how I survived, probably had just been fed really well before midnight and caused a scare for my mother the next midnight *(same midnight for her)* when I was unmoving and almost dead. Dumb luck, what a reason to be alive, eh?
So every four years I kept a close eye on births announced on the 29th of February and the next two years I tried breaking every speed record to make it to all of them in time. I couldn't get them all, of course, and I had to stop following other cities' birth records after a particular year of seeing a hundred births across the country.
I made it a point not to keep track of deaths, and I stopped at two years. Ever tried feeding a three-year-old when they don't know you, their parents and the rest of the world are frozen in time? Yeah, didn't think so. I also didn't leave any sort of notes for the kids. I'd gotten in trouble before when there was a homicide nearby and my fingerprints were found. Thankfully I had an airtight alibi of being half the country over and they just chalked it up to weirdness.
I hadn't met many people who were 29ers *(pardon the pun)*, and those I had tended to run away when they saw me so I figured it's not exactly a club. The only one I kept contact with was Jane, she shared my mission and now dozens of kids would probably die because she was stuck in an airplane, because of some stupid detour the plane had to take. Still, couldn't really be mad at her, 24 hours stuck on an airplane must be shit. The air probably gets stale, the pressure eats at you like nobody's business and the food is awful. Not to mention every time you look outside you're probably thinking about all the laws of physics that are being stretched horribly thin right now.
Leaving the last house I had broken into to feed a baby *(these days I just kept a full stock of formula in the car)* I heard a noise. I hear you roll your eyes, a noise? Good heavens! Laugh all you want, but in the world of February 29th there is no noise you don't make. Heck, the world is all sort of foggy and nothing moves. They're not exactly frozen solid or anything, everything just really, really, *really* doesn't want to move. So now there was a noise and I had no idea what to do.
I decided to ignore it, I still had a bunch of places to go, jumped into my car and drove off. Literally the next street over I almost run over someone who was moving. Actually moving. So someone like me. Big guy, too, but I'd gotten used to people running away from me on the 29th. This guy wasn't, though. I stuck my head and arm out the window and waved.
Then I saw the axe. | "That time of year again!" Randy jumped out of bed, hastily putting on his nicest buttoned shirt. He grabbed his white sneakers and headed out the door. Silence prevailed around the neighborhood. Randy skipped to the park, gleefully whistling his favorite tunes. "Ten AM by the water fountain. How can I forget?" He sang to himself. The water in the fountain sparkled in the sunlight. Randy checked his phone, reading 9:45, Monday, February 29th. He heard a small, feminine voice from behind him. "I was almost convinced that you'd forget about today." Randy turned around, wrapping her in his arms. "Don't be silly. Happy birthday."
| |
[WP] Unbeknown to most of the world, February 29th actually happens every year, but only those born on the day experience it. | I had been counting down the days since last February, and the February before that, and the one before that again. One day was never enough. Would never be enough.
I went to bed as usual, a sympathetic smile from my mom and a small present, and a "hilarious" jab from my dad about missing another birthday. I knew they meant well, but they just didn't understand.
I was never disappointed.
Making kissy faces at both of them, I went to my room and performed my usual bedtime ritual: brushing my teeth, laying out my clothes for school tomorrow, throwing on my old pjs. But I restlessly tossed and turned in my bed. I knew I need to get a few hours worth of sleep before my alarm clock turned to 12:00am.
But, as usual, sleep wouldn't come. I kept tossing and turning, ideas running through my head. What would I do this year?
Frustrated, I opened up the romance novel laying on my nightstand and tossed around a few pages, catching snippets of a love scene here, a tortured betrayal and heartache there.
I glanced at the clock again. 11:30pm. I couldn't wait any longer. I got up, trying to be as quiet as possible. I slipped on my chosen outfit for tonight: black skinny jeans, a loose tunic with an abstract pattern, and my gray boots with thick soles and a sturdy construction. I left the boots by my backpack and stole out quietly to the upstairs bathroom. I silently brushed my teeth and reapplied my makeup, taking as much time and care as possible.
Back in my room, I checked the clock again. 11:59pm. I sat on my bed and just stared at the clock, willing that last minute to go by quickly. I didn't blink and hardly dared to breathe.
12:00am.
I let out a gleeful laugh of excitement. I threw on my boots, hoisted my backpack to my back, and opened up my bedroom door. Just to be safe, I pattered down to my parents' bedroom. I opened the door, confidence swelling in me as neither moved. I turned on the light.
They lay silently, almost as in death. My dad on his back, his mouth slightly open. My mom was curled up next to him, her arm tucked underneath the pillow holding her head. It was a beautiful, peaceful scene. But I didn't envy them. They didn't understand.
I walked over to them, checking their breathing. Everything was still. I was over the deathlike trance, the eerie slumber. It was normal, now.
I tripped lightly out of their room, down the stairs, and through the front door, careful to remember to lock it behind me.
I wasn't the only one out tonight.
There weren't many of us, the February 29th birthdays. But there were enough to make the darkness, and even the light once the sun rose, dangerous. A Mustang idled in front of my house, and I ran over to it. I passed my morbidly obese cat sleeping in his special spot underneath the front porch. He didn't move, either.
Danny sat in the front seat, a shotgun sitting beside him. I moved it out of the way and scooted myself into the car, giving him a big smile.
You see, on Leap Year, February 29th does occur, but only to those special enough to share its day. To us, the world still turns while everything slumbers, and for twenty-four hours we roam this Earth, making it ours. We go where we please, when we please, and take what our hearts desire.
For Danny and I, we seek little additions to our Christmas lists: video games, beautiful clothes, jewelry, and enough books and chocolate to last us another whole year. We're also trying to see all the local museums and monuments that are within driving distance. We like to make the most of these twenty-four hours.
But others are not as innocent. Hence the shotgun. And my backpack full of survival equipment. We've learned over the years that with this birthday comes a price. And it's one we're willing to accept for such absolute freedom.
"So," Danny asked, revving up the engine, "where to first? The Fine Arts museum? Candy store?" he looks at me deviously. "The Lego shop?"
I grin back at him. "We have 24 hours. Let's start with burgers." | "That time of year again!" Randy jumped out of bed, hastily putting on his nicest buttoned shirt. He grabbed his white sneakers and headed out the door. Silence prevailed around the neighborhood. Randy skipped to the park, gleefully whistling his favorite tunes. "Ten AM by the water fountain. How can I forget?" He sang to himself. The water in the fountain sparkled in the sunlight. Randy checked his phone, reading 9:45, Monday, February 29th. He heard a small, feminine voice from behind him. "I was almost convinced that you'd forget about today." Randy turned around, wrapping her in his arms. "Don't be silly. Happy birthday."
| |
[WP] Unbeknown to most of the world, February 29th actually happens every year, but only those born on the day experience it. | February the 29th is a strange day. According to the calendar, for the normal people, it only happens once every four years.
For us who were born on February 29th, it happens every year. Everything else, from animals to people who have other birthdays, freezes. They just...stop. They don't move, breathe, blink, or anything. Have you ever seemed to wake up on March 1st feeling a lot more rested than other mornings? That's because you essentially get an extra 24 hours of sleep...I think.
My first February 29th I remember was when I was three years old. I woke up in the morning at the usual time, only to find that my family wouldn't get up. I thought they were dead. Terrified and unsure of what to do, I hid under my covers for a long time until I heard a knock on the door. Desperate and hopeful, I ran to the door to see a young man dressed in a coat and jeans. Following my parents rule of not opening the door for strangers, I proceeded to have a conversation with him through the glass door.
His name was David. He told me that my family was okay and that I would see them tomorrow. I just needed to stay calm and stay inside the house. After almost an hour, he said he had to go and I shut the door as he walked down my street to his car. The rest of the day I spent watching TV and eating snacks, and, knowing that my family was okay, it was rather fun.
Since then, David has returned to my house every February 29th and we've become really great friends. I've jumped in with his crowd, the people who call themselves the twenty-ninethers. We've been instrumental in helping others like ourselves and keeping the more wild ones in line. People tend to rob banks and jewelry stores when the 29th rolls around.
For me, however, the thing I like to do is what David did for me. Help the young ones out. Before the twenty-ninethers became organized and started keeping tabs on everyone born on the 29th, infant mortality rates were high. They'd go an entire day without any care and come the 1st, a lot of them would have died. A few people who luckily survived the 29th as children then went on to find each other and invest money in resources. The 29th is my favorite day of the year, usually, because it's fun to get together with people from all around the country (we usually find a middle point to meet and bring younger kids and teenagers). It's also peaceful--walking through the streets of New York, the only sound you hear is your footsteps. Driving down the highway at 120 miles an hour without being afraid of getting pulled over. All the things we do, from protecting babies to thrilling actions, define who I am.
I'm glad I was born on the 29th of February.
**EDIT: If you liked this, please check out my other writings at /r/penofigilix/. It would mean a lot. Thanks!**
| "That time of year again!" Randy jumped out of bed, hastily putting on his nicest buttoned shirt. He grabbed his white sneakers and headed out the door. Silence prevailed around the neighborhood. Randy skipped to the park, gleefully whistling his favorite tunes. "Ten AM by the water fountain. How can I forget?" He sang to himself. The water in the fountain sparkled in the sunlight. Randy checked his phone, reading 9:45, Monday, February 29th. He heard a small, feminine voice from behind him. "I was almost convinced that you'd forget about today." Randy turned around, wrapping her in his arms. "Don't be silly. Happy birthday."
| |
[WP] Humanity was decimated by a virus at their technological peak. A survivor tries to find other people among the well kept, automated remains of the world. | CITIZEN, GO INSIDE THE CITY IS UNDER QUARANTINE
*BLAM*
That was only the second military bot I've seen today. Something must be breaking down. Normally four more would be here in minutes after the loss of signal, but now, it's been taking hours.
It's been three years since most the human race died. Since then I've been trying to find survivors. Unfortunately, I was a poor farmer in bumfuck nowhere, Texas.
I figured that my best chance was to go to populated cities. I immediately drove to Austin (the closest city). So far, no luck. Personally driven vehicles aren't allowed in the city limits, so I had to leave my truck in the suburbs, and catch an automated bus.
Food and water wasn't hard to find. Most farms and logistical channels were automated at this point. I've actually found some stuff from my old farm, probably produced after I left. I programmed it on a fairly stable crop rotation, so it could theoretically go forever.
Overall I live a pretty good life. I don't know how I survived. I guess I was immune for some reason. Power and transportation still runs, although not always on the route I want. I could probably change some of the programming if I could figure out where the bus depot is. I like to stay in the penthouse of the Austonian if I'm not too far away.
Fuck, it's getting late. The military bots rule the day, but they double in number at night. Presumably because people kept trying to get drunk, or just got depressed and wanted to die or something. Who knows.
I pull out my ham radio one last time. You can't beat the view from Mount Bonnell. I'm on the national calling frequency. If anyone is still monitoring, it'll be on here, hopefully.
"This is KL5CPY, I am survivor of the virus. Calling all stations. I monitor this frequency daily and make calls at 10am and 8pm. I am also monitoring all the HF, VHF, and UHF calling frequencies at night"
I never get anything. Can't hurt to try. It's become somewhat a nice part of my routine. I get to watch the sunset across this beautiful city. Finish some log entries in my journal about my day, and it gives me some hope for some human contact.
"KL... Y... DISCON.... I REPEAT... TRANSMIT"
Oh man. Is there someone else?
"Station calling, this is KL5CPY, you're unreadable, say again"
Nothing.
Better pack up and go home. I have a better transmitter there.
BRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRPPPPPPP
I suddenly found myself on the ground
What the hell was that.
It's already dark. I don't remember it being this dark before.
I see... something a little further up the hill. It looks very sleek. Two beings approached. They look human enough. Wearing black jumpsuits.
"Sir, we found another survivor. What should we do?"
Over the radio I heard "Bring him in"
One of them pointed a rifle at me
"DON'T SHOOT!"
A light shone from the end, and everything went to black. | Short story:
I awoke the day after the virus, and headed out in search of survivors. Since *decimate* means to cull one tenth of something, I didn't have to go too far. The only person on my block that died was Bob. | |
[WP] Humanity awakens one day to find that large city block size black monoliths have appeared all over the globe. They don't seem to serve any purpose. At first panic ensues but after 10 years of them being there society has come to just accept them. | "Oh come on everyone has taken a picture here, seriously, stop, lets go." The man said as the woman took yet another picture of the monolith on 49th street, one of a dozen tourists taking one just on this side of the street, the only one in the middle of a major city it had fame for not reflecting light like all the others but someone had painted a mural across this one. Most other governments had cordoned off large areas around the ones in their countries, two far east countries were famous for demolishing almost entire towns and cities around theirs, if it was out of fear no one knew. "It's just like all the others it just has some saps mural on it."
The woman made an annoyed sound and followed after the man.
Thud.
"Wha-?" The man started.
Thud.
The man looked back at the monolith.
Thud.
"From there?" He asked no one.
Thud.
"Sounds like someone driving a wood pile." A bystander said.
The ground rumbled gently.
"The mural is fading." A woman near the monolith said.
The thud became softly rhythmic, the rumbling stronger. Crowd control cops began moving people away, one pulled his car into the street and began signalling vehicles to turn around as the tourists were ushered away by cops coming out of the local substation, there had been riots, protests and other people driven events caused by the appearance of the monolith a decade ago so it was decided to build two substations across the street on two of the sides just for it to control the area better.
The mural was gone but the thud was picking up in pace the rumbling settling to a not entirely tolerable harmonic. The cops had the street blocked off at the intersections and were putting up barriers, they weren't taking chances after the lunatic who tried to blow it up about two years after it showed up.
Glass fell from some of the tourist traps around the monolith one of the sergeants was heard on his radio telling his commander to call the borough commander that it was getting worse.
Then the thudding went unnoticeable and the rumbling dropped to a comfortable range. But the cops started acting like a raw sewer line had been opened to the air.
"Gas! Push 'em back further call public works!" One of the sergeants said over the radio.
News vans were parking and being harassed by riot clad cops to move back, it usually took a regular uniformed cop hopping into the drivers seats to do it themselves.
"Do you feel that?" One cop asked.
"Feels like static from clothes." Another said. "A power line split just enough to arc?"
"Nah we'd hear or see that." The first said.
Then came the deafening discharge of the sound of extremely powerful energy like a close lightening strike but hundreds of times louder. Glass everywhere for blocks was shattered almost to gravel, anything capable of being fractured was to some degree. The cops were knocked to their knees if they were far enough away most were laid out flat or against the nearest vehicle or bench or something else upright. Many were frighteningly still, others slumped from where they were to the ground, very few were even able to pull themselves together enough as most were reeling from the sound and force of it.
"Anybody have a working radio?" One shouted near the barricades as he looked at the crowd holding his busted set and cell. Many of them were also in some form of shock from the sound. "Cell?"
No one responded positive right away then a tourist handed over her cell phone to the cop. Other than a small crack in the screen it was fine and working as far as he could tell. He nodded and started to dial but when he waited for a connection he received nothing. He tried another number then another and finally a fourth nothing for any of them.
"Hey you're the track star hoof it to the precinct house tell them we need medical and backup." The cop said to a younger looking one as he returned the cell phone to the woman. "Tell them everything and the national guard is a good idea."
The young cop nodded and started off through the crowd.
An older cop walked unsteadily to the one who had asked for a cell.
"You have your head together go see if any of the ones down are able to get up. I'll stay here." He said.
The cop nodded and stared going from one of his comrades to the other some moaned and said they're staying where they are, some were definitely unconscious but breathing normally with no signs of wounds internal or external. He picked up one then two others who had been far enough away to stay collected after going down. It wasn't long before their dead brothers and sisters were confirmed. The closer they moved along the street the fewer that were alive.
"Twenty." The second cop said.
"Eleven for me." The third cop said.
"Makes forty one then." The cell cop said.
The three cops looked around at the buildings around the monolith.
"There'll be more there." The third cop said.
The booming peal of splitting rock made the three cops run for the nearest cruiser. They made it around the other side to look back at the monolith. A great crack all neat and orderly as if it had been cut into the face ran from sidewalk to about ten stories up and is about two men wide.
"What's next? The second cop asked. "God walks out and damns us all?" | There came upon us no great and deadly sound so we would know, so we would feel it, and there came no graying of the sky like hoarfrost, to weigh us down and quiet us from our mad important posturing, no declaration, no hammer, no crackling in the sky nor in the earth, but only the first black monolith in a gray dead mound of sand in Arizona. And no one said that it was new, that it was something long unborn now digging itself to life among us, no upthrust claw, no digit like a black hand counting out its warning from the center of the earth - it was not these things, it was not these things, but we knew it was.
There were three off Ellesmere Island and three off Antarctica by Adelie Land, the North and South Magnetic Poles, and thousands more all dimpling the globe at their bases and piercing the swirling atmosphere of Earth, like spikes on a giant blue mace that the sun was wielding, that the sun was readying for her bleak and ancient war with the creeping dead infinities of space, without either knowing or caring for the tiny two-legged ants that swarmed about her weapon. And we swarmed and tensed and waited, but the clash never came, and only the cold sharp whistle of the sky on the monoliths and the sun like a fire on their proud black faces would be here after us, should we forget, but we forgot, and we have forgotten, like ants still in our haste and in our armies and in the shadow of a giant that is looming over us. | |
[WP] Humanity awakens one day to find that large city block size black monoliths have appeared all over the globe. They don't seem to serve any purpose. At first panic ensues but after 10 years of them being there society has come to just accept them. | The monoliths had become a part of everyday life. After they landed on Earth eleven years ago, causing chaos and changing the way humanity viewed its place in the Universe, the enormous black blocks were now just another part of the routine.
News concerning the monoliths was a rare thing nowadays; besides their sudden appearance there was nothing too unusual about them. They had weak magnetic fields and they didn’t emit harmful radiation so people living near them were not in danger. The only thing they still affected was the housing market. It was now hip to live near the “Alien Legos”, so the prices in those areas started to rise. Communities also sprouted in the country side where other monoliths landed.
Several religions worshiping them had also appeared, while older faiths simply adopted them as a sign from their God. One new religion in particular, *Kubrism*, viewed *2001: A Space Odyssey* as a prophecy. However, unlike the monoliths in the movie, these ones brought no advancement to the human species – life as we knew it carried on at the same pace.
Scientists had also been trying to study them, yet to no avail. The funding wasn’t an issue; each government was pumping money into research, trying to be the first to harness the powers of alien technology. But the monoliths would not share their secrets. Their surface was made out of a hard crystal that would not break. Whatever information they were emitting, nobody could understand it – until now.
***
“Sir, could you come here for a minute.” said the nervous scientist.
The lieutenant frowned: “What is it, Andy, another *cat* video?”
“Maybe next time, sir. Alright, in short, after we found out that the monoliths were transmitting radio signals, everyone tried to decipher what it was. But the thing is no two monoliths are transmitting the same thing. There’s a reason why they’re spread out all over the world! Look, all the monoliths are transmitting towards the same location, some star cluster in the Sagittarius constellation. As the Earth turns, the signal shifts between monoliths so there is a steady, uninterrupted stream.”
The lieutenant's eyes widened and a frightened look came upon his face: “Oh shit, I bet they’re spying on our technology…”
“Could be, sir. The thing is you can’t analyze the signal from only one monolith, you’ll just get gibberish… But if you add the signal from all the monoliths and superimpose them into one steady stream you get something you can analyze. So… I asked for some time in the supercomputer this morning and the results should soon be - oh, there they are! That's odd, it’s… a video stream. I’ll put it on the big screen.”
“Ok, show me! And turn that other thing off, we’re in a workplace, who the hell watches soccer anyway?”
“… They are, sir.”
| There came upon us no great and deadly sound so we would know, so we would feel it, and there came no graying of the sky like hoarfrost, to weigh us down and quiet us from our mad important posturing, no declaration, no hammer, no crackling in the sky nor in the earth, but only the first black monolith in a gray dead mound of sand in Arizona. And no one said that it was new, that it was something long unborn now digging itself to life among us, no upthrust claw, no digit like a black hand counting out its warning from the center of the earth - it was not these things, it was not these things, but we knew it was.
There were three off Ellesmere Island and three off Antarctica by Adelie Land, the North and South Magnetic Poles, and thousands more all dimpling the globe at their bases and piercing the swirling atmosphere of Earth, like spikes on a giant blue mace that the sun was wielding, that the sun was readying for her bleak and ancient war with the creeping dead infinities of space, without either knowing or caring for the tiny two-legged ants that swarmed about her weapon. And we swarmed and tensed and waited, but the clash never came, and only the cold sharp whistle of the sky on the monoliths and the sun like a fire on their proud black faces would be here after us, should we forget, but we forgot, and we have forgotten, like ants still in our haste and in our armies and in the shadow of a giant that is looming over us. | |
[WP] Humanity awakens one day to find that large city block size black monoliths have appeared all over the globe. They don't seem to serve any purpose. At first panic ensues but after 10 years of them being there society has come to just accept them. | I stared at the cold, black pillar.
      They said there was nothing wrong with them. That they were safe. But why then, had the blocked them off? Barricaded them from the public?
      The monoliths had appeared 10 years ago. No one knows how they got here. No one knows why. All over the world, these monuments appeared. On mountains, in forests, admits the vast oceans. They appeared randomly. Scientists could find no pattern discerning their placement. Scientists could find out little about the monoliths at all. All we know is that the government told us not to worry.
      I am not convinced.
      There is something wrong with these pillars. Something unholy. They radiate a black light. An unnatural blackness that is creeping ever closer to the rest of the city.
      No one seems to notice. They all just carry on with their lives, oblivious.
      I turned around. Yes. There was something wrong with those pillars.
      And I am going to find out what. | "Ash, how many time have I told you? Stop going near them!" Razia scolded.
Ash didn't want to argue with his mother, especially with her waving the kitchen knife around while she cut the vegetables. Lowering the condensation in his voice, he tried to explain.
"Mom. Its nothing to worry about. I was just making a sketch for my paper."
Razia bent towards the window. The distant sunset was blocked by the huge Monolith. It would have been a beautiful scene, but for some reason seemed....darker.
"Bad things happen to people who go near them Ashwin."
Ashwin surreptitiously rolled his eyes. "Its just superstition mom. The government has been analyzing those things for a decade. They are completely inert."
Staring in the distance, he looked at the behemoth structure for the thousandth time. It was afternoon, and yet the thing was pitch black. Almost like it *sucked* in light instead of reflecting it.
Ash shuddered for a moment. *All superstition aside, it is creepy.I wonder if anyone -*
Ashwin blinked. For a second there he had seen....
Moving near the window, he examined the structure. He was sure he saw -
There. Near the base of the monolith. A flash of light.
He was running towards the door the next second.
"Ash where...." his mother asked. No time for her.
Sprinting he crossed the front yard, turning towards the structure. His heart was pounding.Not from exhaustion but rather excitement.
Five mins later Ashwin was standing at the feet of the monolith. Craning his neck, he stared up. Couldn't see the top. The thing was more than 8 km tall and a 500 metres square at the base, yet was built from a single stone. It defied reason.
Breathing heavily,he reached out to feel the rough exterior. He loved this feeling. Alien and comforting at the same time. He looked around trying to find the source-
A current rush up his arm.
Ash jumped back. This hadn't before. Looking down where he had been touching, he saw a symbol carved into the surface. It was pure white, just like the pure black of the monolith. It seemed like a cross between Egyptian and Hindi characters.
"What the hell are you?" he whispered.
Over the years many conspiracy theories had been formed for the strange structure that had sprung in major cities around the world overnight. Aliens, Ghosts, Cultists, Wizards, ie the usual suspects, to the bizarre, like a new form of plant life and stalactites.
But Ash could finally see. These *things* were something else. As he had touched the structure, a bizarre thought had entered his mind. And as he watched the symbols spread over the monolith like dancing spiders, he was hit with the epiphany.
"Oh my god," he gasped.",this, this changes everything. People need to know."
The possibilities danced around his mind. These monoliths could break every human limitation in existence. They would be a god once they could.....
His soaring heart was brought to the ground as he considered humanities's track record.
"With this,We'll probably destroy the planet by next week.No. Humans need to be protected from this power. From themselves. "
He smiled devilishly. In the right hands, his hands,this power would be most pofitable to humanity. Closing his eyes, he began to execute his plan.
------------------
"Good evening and welcome to Radio news at 9. I am your anchor Kiran Bedi welcoming you tonight."
"Our special tonight is the apparent assassination of Six world leaders in various Dictatorships around the world. Catch our later coverage of 'Civil War in North Korea'. "
"Another hot story, is the complete crippling of major Military powers. All around the world, people are unable to deploy a firearm or launch weapons. Intelligence suggest possible interference of nano-bots. Could these stories be related? Lets find out--"
"Umm.... We... are interrupting our regular program to broadcast something extraordinary. I am standing at the roof of my office and I can see...uh, What the hell is that Roy?"
"Aha..pardon my language. But what we are seeing is unbelievable. There is another moon...in the sky. A red object is floating in space right beside our moon.Its..huh..quite belie-"
"Wait. Is it..is it growing bigger? I dont understand. Oh my god! Its coming towards us. Oh god! Its coming fast. This is an emergency . I repeat. Find shelter. Find your families. We are in.."
"Shhhhhhhhhhhh.BZZZZZZZZZ.Shhhhhhhhhhhhh" | |
[WP] Humanity awakens one day to find that large city block size black monoliths have appeared all over the globe. They don't seem to serve any purpose. At first panic ensues but after 10 years of them being there society has come to just accept them. | Life on top of a cube was a mark of status. The first crazy millionaire in India had been on the news for close to six months straight when he paid to have his new mansion built on top of the Dehli slums cube, and in the years since then it had become a sort of trend to build on top of them. The Tokyo cube had an alien theme park on it, and the Nevada cube had become an extension of the Trump Hotel.
Lilian lived on the 30th floor of the London cube tower, on the side facing the Thames. They had just finished construction last January. Her father had pre-purchased her unit during the initial fundraising stage, he was an investor. Lilian knew that living on the cube was fashionable, but she missed being closer to the ground. Her room in the old house had been cosy in the summer with trees outside and birds nesting.
She stared out the window, tracing the shadow of the cube with her eye along the city streets below. Far away, the sun neared the horizon, glinting off the river like a glass ribbon.
A tremor shot through the building, and Lilian tumbled to the floor. Plates fell and broke in the kitchen. A window shattered. Lilian scurried back from the wall, and through the window saw a cloud of debris cascading across London below. London was getting smaller. She gasped - the cube was moving. In the distance, a constellation of dark specks were rising into the quickly dimming sky. | "Ash, how many time have I told you? Stop going near them!" Razia scolded.
Ash didn't want to argue with his mother, especially with her waving the kitchen knife around while she cut the vegetables. Lowering the condensation in his voice, he tried to explain.
"Mom. Its nothing to worry about. I was just making a sketch for my paper."
Razia bent towards the window. The distant sunset was blocked by the huge Monolith. It would have been a beautiful scene, but for some reason seemed....darker.
"Bad things happen to people who go near them Ashwin."
Ashwin surreptitiously rolled his eyes. "Its just superstition mom. The government has been analyzing those things for a decade. They are completely inert."
Staring in the distance, he looked at the behemoth structure for the thousandth time. It was afternoon, and yet the thing was pitch black. Almost like it *sucked* in light instead of reflecting it.
Ash shuddered for a moment. *All superstition aside, it is creepy.I wonder if anyone -*
Ashwin blinked. For a second there he had seen....
Moving near the window, he examined the structure. He was sure he saw -
There. Near the base of the monolith. A flash of light.
He was running towards the door the next second.
"Ash where...." his mother asked. No time for her.
Sprinting he crossed the front yard, turning towards the structure. His heart was pounding.Not from exhaustion but rather excitement.
Five mins later Ashwin was standing at the feet of the monolith. Craning his neck, he stared up. Couldn't see the top. The thing was more than 8 km tall and a 500 metres square at the base, yet was built from a single stone. It defied reason.
Breathing heavily,he reached out to feel the rough exterior. He loved this feeling. Alien and comforting at the same time. He looked around trying to find the source-
A current rush up his arm.
Ash jumped back. This hadn't before. Looking down where he had been touching, he saw a symbol carved into the surface. It was pure white, just like the pure black of the monolith. It seemed like a cross between Egyptian and Hindi characters.
"What the hell are you?" he whispered.
Over the years many conspiracy theories had been formed for the strange structure that had sprung in major cities around the world overnight. Aliens, Ghosts, Cultists, Wizards, ie the usual suspects, to the bizarre, like a new form of plant life and stalactites.
But Ash could finally see. These *things* were something else. As he had touched the structure, a bizarre thought had entered his mind. And as he watched the symbols spread over the monolith like dancing spiders, he was hit with the epiphany.
"Oh my god," he gasped.",this, this changes everything. People need to know."
The possibilities danced around his mind. These monoliths could break every human limitation in existence. They would be a god once they could.....
His soaring heart was brought to the ground as he considered humanities's track record.
"With this,We'll probably destroy the planet by next week.No. Humans need to be protected from this power. From themselves. "
He smiled devilishly. In the right hands, his hands,this power would be most pofitable to humanity. Closing his eyes, he began to execute his plan.
------------------
"Good evening and welcome to Radio news at 9. I am your anchor Kiran Bedi welcoming you tonight."
"Our special tonight is the apparent assassination of Six world leaders in various Dictatorships around the world. Catch our later coverage of 'Civil War in North Korea'. "
"Another hot story, is the complete crippling of major Military powers. All around the world, people are unable to deploy a firearm or launch weapons. Intelligence suggest possible interference of nano-bots. Could these stories be related? Lets find out--"
"Umm.... We... are interrupting our regular program to broadcast something extraordinary. I am standing at the roof of my office and I can see...uh, What the hell is that Roy?"
"Aha..pardon my language. But what we are seeing is unbelievable. There is another moon...in the sky. A red object is floating in space right beside our moon.Its..huh..quite belie-"
"Wait. Is it..is it growing bigger? I dont understand. Oh my god! Its coming towards us. Oh god! Its coming fast. This is an emergency . I repeat. Find shelter. Find your families. We are in.."
"Shhhhhhhhhhhh.BZZZZZZZZZ.Shhhhhhhhhhhhh" | |
[WP] Humanity awakens one day to find that large city block size black monoliths have appeared all over the globe. They don't seem to serve any purpose. At first panic ensues but after 10 years of them being there society has come to just accept them. | "Debbie, we're not moving near the Monolith!"
"But Jaaaason!"
"I'm not gonna watch my kid grow up to be some Monolith Village Hipster dropout!"
"Abby's kid isn't a dropout! He's become a YouTube spiritualist! There's a *sacred energy* that surrounds-"
"Sacred nothing! He's a grown man who shrieks at a wall for a living!"
"Then how do you explain Abby's suddenly being cured from her brain tumor?"
"Debbie, for the last time, it was allergies. Her headache was allergies related. After I gave her medication, two weeks later she was fine."
"Nuh uh. Xans the Wise said that he healed her from-"
"**Xans the Wise**? Joey Weinstein changed his name to, **Xans The Wise**?"
"Well, yeah! All the cool kids are doing it!"
"What the heck is it with people and giant mystery rocks? If no one knows what the hell it is, it's gotta be sacred? If only the military would allow for a throughout scientific review on the-"
"Oooooh I didn't hear that. My husband is no terrorist, no sir!"
"Debbie! Peer review! At least a seismologist to determine the probability of another tower falling down!"
"Praise be to Jersey."
"Our kid isn't becoming another 'Xans'."
"Of course not honey. But he'll have to take on a mono-syllable name or else the boys at school are all gonna beat him up."
"... 'JUDE' IS A MONO- why am I arguing this..."
"Sweety, a mono-syllable name from the Monolith Alphabet. You know that! Ah, buhby, my sweet Jay-jay. I'm sorry. I know that ten years could fly by so fast. Jude winning that little school debate, Andrea walking, our little Toddy getting blessed, snipped, and branded. It all goes by so fast."
"... what do you mean Toby's been 'branded'... Debbie?"
"You know how progressive Rabbi Moisha, & he's been so helpful for all out school's bake sales-"
"Where's Toby"
"Toby's sleeping in his crib. Well, maybe not now with all your yappady yap yap. Where you going?"
"Debbie, please don't tell me..."
"I can't believe you're more concerned about a little doodle than you are with snipping away at his little captain."
"Debb*ieeee*" *(Checks next room)* ^^***"HOLY*** ^^^***SHIT!"***
*(Baby begins crying)*
"And *now* you woke the baby..."
"ABBY! There's a GIANT TATTOO of a MONOLITH on our INFANT'S BACK!"
"... Surprise!... See I was gonna show you when you said "Yes" to the move, then I was gonna be all like, 'Look who else is excited!' & we we're gonna laugh, & make little Monolith candles before All Mono's Eve... I could never surprise you. I knew I married the world's smartest man!"
"HIS BACK"
"Handsome too."
"IS ONE GIANT"
"Did I mention forgiving?"
**"TATTOO!"**
"Oh Jason! I'm sorry! They made some recent changes at the Temple, they've become really spiritually open these days, you know, & right after you left the Bris, the Rabbi mentioned that everyone was doing this right of passage, & you weren't there, & I was given a very reasonable price, made all my friend's jealous, Sandra's daughter could only afford a tramp stamp Monolith... Jason, Jason I'm so sorry... I don't know what's coming over me. It's like that stupid rock has got some sort of Mind Control over everyone, and now my baby, my baby... BWAAA oh god, my precious child... BWAAA"
"... Sweetheart... Debbie... Baby, come here..."
"BWAAA. You don't want me. You don't love me anymore. I don't love me anymore! Buh, buh... BWAAA."
"... Of course I love you. I'll always love you sweety."
"*(sniffle sniffle snort)* It's not true."
"... *Ohh Debbie*, *Oh Debbie*..."
"Oh Jason... stop..."
" *Ohh Debbie*, *Ohh Debbie*..."
"That's our song..."
"*I had a girl, & Debbie was her name. Since she left me, I never was the same..."
"I don't deserve this..."
"'*Cause I love my girl. Debbie, where can you be? Where can you be?*"
"Oh Jason."
"*Ohh Debbie. Ohh Debbie. Ohh Debbie. Ohh Debbie.*..."
"... I sorry Jason."
"I know... Look, Toby stopped crying."
"Ah, he looks like a little Angel... Ohh, what are we gonna do about that tattoo..."
"You know, maybe the Monolith life won't be so bad...
"Jason?"
"Plus the commute to and from the Hospital would be easier, & I'd always be driving without the light in my eyes."
"You know that you're the best man on Earth, right?"
"I am for having Married the most wonderful woman."
"Oh! I can't wait to tell all my friends! Abby & me will become besties! That Xans kid can show the kids around, he's pretty popular!"
"That's fine, but no kissing that wall. Who know how many strangers have been making out with that stuff"
"Xans only gave it a smooch, & it's not like anyone makes out with the thing morning, noon, & night. Oh honey! We're gonna have to learn how to speak Lithian! How romantic!"
"How would you say, "I love you"?
"You wouldn't. You would just always know."
...
*Television:*
*"Breaking News! Monstrous Alien Creatures have begun spewing out of Monoliths all over the world and have begun consuming everything in sight!"*
...
"Canada?"
"Canada." | "Ash, how many time have I told you? Stop going near them!" Razia scolded.
Ash didn't want to argue with his mother, especially with her waving the kitchen knife around while she cut the vegetables. Lowering the condensation in his voice, he tried to explain.
"Mom. Its nothing to worry about. I was just making a sketch for my paper."
Razia bent towards the window. The distant sunset was blocked by the huge Monolith. It would have been a beautiful scene, but for some reason seemed....darker.
"Bad things happen to people who go near them Ashwin."
Ashwin surreptitiously rolled his eyes. "Its just superstition mom. The government has been analyzing those things for a decade. They are completely inert."
Staring in the distance, he looked at the behemoth structure for the thousandth time. It was afternoon, and yet the thing was pitch black. Almost like it *sucked* in light instead of reflecting it.
Ash shuddered for a moment. *All superstition aside, it is creepy.I wonder if anyone -*
Ashwin blinked. For a second there he had seen....
Moving near the window, he examined the structure. He was sure he saw -
There. Near the base of the monolith. A flash of light.
He was running towards the door the next second.
"Ash where...." his mother asked. No time for her.
Sprinting he crossed the front yard, turning towards the structure. His heart was pounding.Not from exhaustion but rather excitement.
Five mins later Ashwin was standing at the feet of the monolith. Craning his neck, he stared up. Couldn't see the top. The thing was more than 8 km tall and a 500 metres square at the base, yet was built from a single stone. It defied reason.
Breathing heavily,he reached out to feel the rough exterior. He loved this feeling. Alien and comforting at the same time. He looked around trying to find the source-
A current rush up his arm.
Ash jumped back. This hadn't before. Looking down where he had been touching, he saw a symbol carved into the surface. It was pure white, just like the pure black of the monolith. It seemed like a cross between Egyptian and Hindi characters.
"What the hell are you?" he whispered.
Over the years many conspiracy theories had been formed for the strange structure that had sprung in major cities around the world overnight. Aliens, Ghosts, Cultists, Wizards, ie the usual suspects, to the bizarre, like a new form of plant life and stalactites.
But Ash could finally see. These *things* were something else. As he had touched the structure, a bizarre thought had entered his mind. And as he watched the symbols spread over the monolith like dancing spiders, he was hit with the epiphany.
"Oh my god," he gasped.",this, this changes everything. People need to know."
The possibilities danced around his mind. These monoliths could break every human limitation in existence. They would be a god once they could.....
His soaring heart was brought to the ground as he considered humanities's track record.
"With this,We'll probably destroy the planet by next week.No. Humans need to be protected from this power. From themselves. "
He smiled devilishly. In the right hands, his hands,this power would be most pofitable to humanity. Closing his eyes, he began to execute his plan.
------------------
"Good evening and welcome to Radio news at 9. I am your anchor Kiran Bedi welcoming you tonight."
"Our special tonight is the apparent assassination of Six world leaders in various Dictatorships around the world. Catch our later coverage of 'Civil War in North Korea'. "
"Another hot story, is the complete crippling of major Military powers. All around the world, people are unable to deploy a firearm or launch weapons. Intelligence suggest possible interference of nano-bots. Could these stories be related? Lets find out--"
"Umm.... We... are interrupting our regular program to broadcast something extraordinary. I am standing at the roof of my office and I can see...uh, What the hell is that Roy?"
"Aha..pardon my language. But what we are seeing is unbelievable. There is another moon...in the sky. A red object is floating in space right beside our moon.Its..huh..quite belie-"
"Wait. Is it..is it growing bigger? I dont understand. Oh my god! Its coming towards us. Oh god! Its coming fast. This is an emergency . I repeat. Find shelter. Find your families. We are in.."
"Shhhhhhhhhhhh.BZZZZZZZZZ.Shhhhhhhhhhhhh" | |
[WP] Humanity awakens one day to find that large city block size black monoliths have appeared all over the globe. They don't seem to serve any purpose. At first panic ensues but after 10 years of them being there society has come to just accept them. | Mission log entry 1 sun cycle 1: a scout ship detected electromagnetic radiation emanating from the third planet of a nearby solar system. Analysis indicates the indigenous population engaged in suicidal weapons development and war. Dispatch monitor complex to the third planet.
Mission log entry 2 sun cycle 1.5: monitor complex attacked by nuclear weapons crossing the orbit of the moon of the third planet. Collected energy allowed for early deployment of individual cubic monitor segments.
Mission log entry 3 sun cycle 1.55: monitor segments began approach to the planet establishing monitor coverage as a globe of connectivity. Ground approaches were slow to allow evacuation of indigenous personnel prior to landing. Most landings unopposed. Monitor units impervious to local attacks did not respond. Data collection commences.
Mission log entry 4 sun cycle 9.95: monitor segments completed analysis. Implementation phase imminent. Indigenous population currently oblivious to the monitor units.
Mission log entry 5 sun cycle 10: significant preparation of indigenous war fighting capability rising. Analysis indicates possibility of Thermo nuclear war.
Mission log entry 6 sun cycle 10.1: monitor units implemented selective EMP and metallic fusion operations. Indigenous population no longer has a military capability as all metallic parts in selected areas are now fused. Electromagnetic communication systems of indigenous personnel in designated areas of high risk are destroyed. All Thermo nuclear capability rendered inoperable. Significant reaction differs in different zones of occupation. Some populations engaged in worship of monitor units others leaving gifts others engaged in futile attacks.
Mission log entry 7 sun cycle 10.5: monitor units initiated communication with the indigenous population of the planet. Message transmitted "People of the earth the practice of warfare is no longer possible. You are encouraged to participate in the reclamation of your planet and ultimately joining the community of populated stars."
Mission log entry 8 sun cycle 11.0: replenishment of the ozone layer complete. Atmospheric conditions currently nominal. Ocean based monitor units reestablished temperature equilibrium. Violent weather events significantly contained. Telepathic integration of specific members of the indigenous population completed. Estimated pacification completion projected at sun cycle 15.
Mission log entry 9 sun cycle 15.1: planetary peace established. First contact authorized.
| "Ash, how many time have I told you? Stop going near them!" Razia scolded.
Ash didn't want to argue with his mother, especially with her waving the kitchen knife around while she cut the vegetables. Lowering the condensation in his voice, he tried to explain.
"Mom. Its nothing to worry about. I was just making a sketch for my paper."
Razia bent towards the window. The distant sunset was blocked by the huge Monolith. It would have been a beautiful scene, but for some reason seemed....darker.
"Bad things happen to people who go near them Ashwin."
Ashwin surreptitiously rolled his eyes. "Its just superstition mom. The government has been analyzing those things for a decade. They are completely inert."
Staring in the distance, he looked at the behemoth structure for the thousandth time. It was afternoon, and yet the thing was pitch black. Almost like it *sucked* in light instead of reflecting it.
Ash shuddered for a moment. *All superstition aside, it is creepy.I wonder if anyone -*
Ashwin blinked. For a second there he had seen....
Moving near the window, he examined the structure. He was sure he saw -
There. Near the base of the monolith. A flash of light.
He was running towards the door the next second.
"Ash where...." his mother asked. No time for her.
Sprinting he crossed the front yard, turning towards the structure. His heart was pounding.Not from exhaustion but rather excitement.
Five mins later Ashwin was standing at the feet of the monolith. Craning his neck, he stared up. Couldn't see the top. The thing was more than 8 km tall and a 500 metres square at the base, yet was built from a single stone. It defied reason.
Breathing heavily,he reached out to feel the rough exterior. He loved this feeling. Alien and comforting at the same time. He looked around trying to find the source-
A current rush up his arm.
Ash jumped back. This hadn't before. Looking down where he had been touching, he saw a symbol carved into the surface. It was pure white, just like the pure black of the monolith. It seemed like a cross between Egyptian and Hindi characters.
"What the hell are you?" he whispered.
Over the years many conspiracy theories had been formed for the strange structure that had sprung in major cities around the world overnight. Aliens, Ghosts, Cultists, Wizards, ie the usual suspects, to the bizarre, like a new form of plant life and stalactites.
But Ash could finally see. These *things* were something else. As he had touched the structure, a bizarre thought had entered his mind. And as he watched the symbols spread over the monolith like dancing spiders, he was hit with the epiphany.
"Oh my god," he gasped.",this, this changes everything. People need to know."
The possibilities danced around his mind. These monoliths could break every human limitation in existence. They would be a god once they could.....
His soaring heart was brought to the ground as he considered humanities's track record.
"With this,We'll probably destroy the planet by next week.No. Humans need to be protected from this power. From themselves. "
He smiled devilishly. In the right hands, his hands,this power would be most pofitable to humanity. Closing his eyes, he began to execute his plan.
------------------
"Good evening and welcome to Radio news at 9. I am your anchor Kiran Bedi welcoming you tonight."
"Our special tonight is the apparent assassination of Six world leaders in various Dictatorships around the world. Catch our later coverage of 'Civil War in North Korea'. "
"Another hot story, is the complete crippling of major Military powers. All around the world, people are unable to deploy a firearm or launch weapons. Intelligence suggest possible interference of nano-bots. Could these stories be related? Lets find out--"
"Umm.... We... are interrupting our regular program to broadcast something extraordinary. I am standing at the roof of my office and I can see...uh, What the hell is that Roy?"
"Aha..pardon my language. But what we are seeing is unbelievable. There is another moon...in the sky. A red object is floating in space right beside our moon.Its..huh..quite belie-"
"Wait. Is it..is it growing bigger? I dont understand. Oh my god! Its coming towards us. Oh god! Its coming fast. This is an emergency . I repeat. Find shelter. Find your families. We are in.."
"Shhhhhhhhhhhh.BZZZZZZZZZ.Shhhhhhhhhhhhh" | |
[WP] Humanity awakens one day to find that large city block size black monoliths have appeared all over the globe. They don't seem to serve any purpose. At first panic ensues but after 10 years of them being there society has come to just accept them. | Life on top of a cube was a mark of status. The first crazy millionaire in India had been on the news for close to six months straight when he paid to have his new mansion built on top of the Dehli slums cube, and in the years since then it had become a sort of trend to build on top of them. The Tokyo cube had an alien theme park on it, and the Nevada cube had become an extension of the Trump Hotel.
Lilian lived on the 30th floor of the London cube tower, on the side facing the Thames. They had just finished construction last January. Her father had pre-purchased her unit during the initial fundraising stage, he was an investor. Lilian knew that living on the cube was fashionable, but she missed being closer to the ground. Her room in the old house had been cosy in the summer with trees outside and birds nesting.
She stared out the window, tracing the shadow of the cube with her eye along the city streets below. Far away, the sun neared the horizon, glinting off the river like a glass ribbon.
A tremor shot through the building, and Lilian tumbled to the floor. Plates fell and broke in the kitchen. A window shattered. Lilian scurried back from the wall, and through the window saw a cloud of debris cascading across London below. London was getting smaller. She gasped - the cube was moving. In the distance, a constellation of dark specks were rising into the quickly dimming sky. | I stared at the cold, black pillar.
      They said there was nothing wrong with them. That they were safe. But why then, had the blocked them off? Barricaded them from the public?
      The monoliths had appeared 10 years ago. No one knows how they got here. No one knows why. All over the world, these monuments appeared. On mountains, in forests, admits the vast oceans. They appeared randomly. Scientists could find no pattern discerning their placement. Scientists could find out little about the monoliths at all. All we know is that the government told us not to worry.
      I am not convinced.
      There is something wrong with these pillars. Something unholy. They radiate a black light. An unnatural blackness that is creeping ever closer to the rest of the city.
      No one seems to notice. They all just carry on with their lives, oblivious.
      I turned around. Yes. There was something wrong with those pillars.
      And I am going to find out what. | |
[WP] Humanity awakens one day to find that large city block size black monoliths have appeared all over the globe. They don't seem to serve any purpose. At first panic ensues but after 10 years of them being there society has come to just accept them. | "Debbie, we're not moving near the Monolith!"
"But Jaaaason!"
"I'm not gonna watch my kid grow up to be some Monolith Village Hipster dropout!"
"Abby's kid isn't a dropout! He's become a YouTube spiritualist! There's a *sacred energy* that surrounds-"
"Sacred nothing! He's a grown man who shrieks at a wall for a living!"
"Then how do you explain Abby's suddenly being cured from her brain tumor?"
"Debbie, for the last time, it was allergies. Her headache was allergies related. After I gave her medication, two weeks later she was fine."
"Nuh uh. Xans the Wise said that he healed her from-"
"**Xans the Wise**? Joey Weinstein changed his name to, **Xans The Wise**?"
"Well, yeah! All the cool kids are doing it!"
"What the heck is it with people and giant mystery rocks? If no one knows what the hell it is, it's gotta be sacred? If only the military would allow for a throughout scientific review on the-"
"Oooooh I didn't hear that. My husband is no terrorist, no sir!"
"Debbie! Peer review! At least a seismologist to determine the probability of another tower falling down!"
"Praise be to Jersey."
"Our kid isn't becoming another 'Xans'."
"Of course not honey. But he'll have to take on a mono-syllable name or else the boys at school are all gonna beat him up."
"... 'JUDE' IS A MONO- why am I arguing this..."
"Sweety, a mono-syllable name from the Monolith Alphabet. You know that! Ah, buhby, my sweet Jay-jay. I'm sorry. I know that ten years could fly by so fast. Jude winning that little school debate, Andrea walking, our little Toddy getting blessed, snipped, and branded. It all goes by so fast."
"... what do you mean Toby's been 'branded'... Debbie?"
"You know how progressive Rabbi Moisha, & he's been so helpful for all out school's bake sales-"
"Where's Toby"
"Toby's sleeping in his crib. Well, maybe not now with all your yappady yap yap. Where you going?"
"Debbie, please don't tell me..."
"I can't believe you're more concerned about a little doodle than you are with snipping away at his little captain."
"Debb*ieeee*" *(Checks next room)* ^^***"HOLY*** ^^^***SHIT!"***
*(Baby begins crying)*
"And *now* you woke the baby..."
"ABBY! There's a GIANT TATTOO of a MONOLITH on our INFANT'S BACK!"
"... Surprise!... See I was gonna show you when you said "Yes" to the move, then I was gonna be all like, 'Look who else is excited!' & we we're gonna laugh, & make little Monolith candles before All Mono's Eve... I could never surprise you. I knew I married the world's smartest man!"
"HIS BACK"
"Handsome too."
"IS ONE GIANT"
"Did I mention forgiving?"
**"TATTOO!"**
"Oh Jason! I'm sorry! They made some recent changes at the Temple, they've become really spiritually open these days, you know, & right after you left the Bris, the Rabbi mentioned that everyone was doing this right of passage, & you weren't there, & I was given a very reasonable price, made all my friend's jealous, Sandra's daughter could only afford a tramp stamp Monolith... Jason, Jason I'm so sorry... I don't know what's coming over me. It's like that stupid rock has got some sort of Mind Control over everyone, and now my baby, my baby... BWAAA oh god, my precious child... BWAAA"
"... Sweetheart... Debbie... Baby, come here..."
"BWAAA. You don't want me. You don't love me anymore. I don't love me anymore! Buh, buh... BWAAA."
"... Of course I love you. I'll always love you sweety."
"*(sniffle sniffle snort)* It's not true."
"... *Ohh Debbie*, *Oh Debbie*..."
"Oh Jason... stop..."
" *Ohh Debbie*, *Ohh Debbie*..."
"That's our song..."
"*I had a girl, & Debbie was her name. Since she left me, I never was the same..."
"I don't deserve this..."
"'*Cause I love my girl. Debbie, where can you be? Where can you be?*"
"Oh Jason."
"*Ohh Debbie. Ohh Debbie. Ohh Debbie. Ohh Debbie.*..."
"... I sorry Jason."
"I know... Look, Toby stopped crying."
"Ah, he looks like a little Angel... Ohh, what are we gonna do about that tattoo..."
"You know, maybe the Monolith life won't be so bad...
"Jason?"
"Plus the commute to and from the Hospital would be easier, & I'd always be driving without the light in my eyes."
"You know that you're the best man on Earth, right?"
"I am for having Married the most wonderful woman."
"Oh! I can't wait to tell all my friends! Abby & me will become besties! That Xans kid can show the kids around, he's pretty popular!"
"That's fine, but no kissing that wall. Who know how many strangers have been making out with that stuff"
"Xans only gave it a smooch, & it's not like anyone makes out with the thing morning, noon, & night. Oh honey! We're gonna have to learn how to speak Lithian! How romantic!"
"How would you say, "I love you"?
"You wouldn't. You would just always know."
...
*Television:*
*"Breaking News! Monstrous Alien Creatures have begun spewing out of Monoliths all over the world and have begun consuming everything in sight!"*
...
"Canada?"
"Canada." | I stared at the cold, black pillar.
      They said there was nothing wrong with them. That they were safe. But why then, had the blocked them off? Barricaded them from the public?
      The monoliths had appeared 10 years ago. No one knows how they got here. No one knows why. All over the world, these monuments appeared. On mountains, in forests, admits the vast oceans. They appeared randomly. Scientists could find no pattern discerning their placement. Scientists could find out little about the monoliths at all. All we know is that the government told us not to worry.
      I am not convinced.
      There is something wrong with these pillars. Something unholy. They radiate a black light. An unnatural blackness that is creeping ever closer to the rest of the city.
      No one seems to notice. They all just carry on with their lives, oblivious.
      I turned around. Yes. There was something wrong with those pillars.
      And I am going to find out what. | |
[WP] In a world where superpowers exist, emotions are key to unlocking one's true potential. However, contrary to the common trope, heightened emotions weaken powers, and the strongest manifestation of power is only possible at a completely Zen state. | I don’t have much to thank my parents for. As soon as I could leave the home behind I could, and though I couldn’t leave the scars that crawled across my body I could at least leave the house behind. There wasn’t any reason for me to stay after I was accepted into the school for the Empowered. So I left.
See, like the other students attending The University, I had a power. I could move things with my mind. Telekinesis they call it, or more commonly being a Telk. Not exactly common, but exactly rare either. Regardless I was accepted in and my classes started.
The others were all right. A loner, I didn’t socialize much. I always did the bare minimum in class, and tried to get by unnoticed. And although I stuck to myself I came to know some other student fairly well. There was Jarod the speedster. Running relaxed him and so the more he ran the faster he got. It was a useful skill to have, though it took a bit for the effect to kick in. Then there was molly, a pyro. She was fairly skilled, although she was also very emotional, prone to violent outbursts where she was less than concerned with what she burnt down. Thankfully, she couldn’t burn much when she was in one of her moods. And lastly there was Tom. He was the calmest of the trio, always focusing on his Zen and taking an air of disinterest in everything around him. He was a jumper, able to teleport at will. His range was dictated by his emotional blankness, so his attempts of lack of emotion made sense.
And then there was Kevin, another Telk. For reasons I never could figure out, he enjoyed giving me problems. I didn’t bother me, but I knew it made the others uneasy. So I decided I would make an example.
The four of us were in a courtyard studying. I knew the lesson by heart, but I needed to keep up appearances and they seemed to enjoy my company. We were half way through going over the day’s homework when Kevin spotted us.
“Hey Telky! What are you and your pathetic rejects doing out here?” He said, a cruel grin on his as he walked over. The book in my hand slammed shut, and judging by the widening of Kevins face I knew why.
Tom disappeared, most likely getting the nearest Professor before Molly got annoyed and burnt all our books again.
I turned back to kevin. “Go away kevin” I said, rising to my feet. “We don’t want to make a scene and we both know you’re all talk.” Flames began leaking from Molly’s hands, dripping in drops of living fire right onto my book for a few seconds before her rage smothered her flames.
I sighed, and though Jarod snatched the book away in a blur, a few pages were already burnt.
I felt a force shove me back a step. “Oh, just talk, huh?” Kevin raised a hand and a concussion nocked me off my feet and into the dirt. Enough.
I rose to my feet, my mind a sea of emptiness. “Enough Kevin.”
“Enough Kevin!” He mimicked me, chuckling then releasing another blast of energy.
I caught it in my own, and squashed it like a bug. Kevin recoiled as if slapped, and with the force of pure will I slammed him into the ground.
“Holy shit…” I heard behind me, a whisper that hardly entered the barren wasteland my mind had become. That I had released.
As I stood there over the enemy, I released my strength. The ground beneath my crumbled to dust, though I didn’t fall. A gesture, and it was held before me. A thought and I broke it in two. A moment of concentration and it was torn to pieces, and cast to the wind.
I lowered to the ground, reigned in the power, and collected my things. Tom was still missing, so I couldn’t return his pencil. I shrugged and left it on the ground. And then I left, ignoring the horrified whimpers and the shocked faces of those I studied with.
I don’t have much to thank my parents for, but in a world where emotions weakens powers, sometimes it pays to be a sociopath.
| "Are you sure you want to carry through with this? You'd gain powers, but at the expense of what? Your humanity? Your conscience?"
"Whatever, shooting laser beams out of my eyes seems pretty cool."
Shaking his head, the surgeon proceeded with the lobotomy. | |
^^^Similar ^^^to ^^^the ^^^endless ^^^map ^^^in ^^^minecraft ^^^with ^^^earth ^^^at ^^^the ^^^centre ^^^\(no ^^^need ^^^to ^^^restrict ^^^yourself ^^^to ^^^the ^^^game)
^^^Nothing-so-far-about-endless-resources?-:(
| [WP] An event causes the earth to become flat, seemingly endless in every direction. | The sky suddenly went dark, as if God had turned out the lights. The actual lights began to flicker on, before the unexpected drain exeded the capacity of the national grid, and everything returned to dark.
The people slowly ventured outside, lighting the way with their phones. The soft glow of the galaxy was interrupted by the flashes of crashing satalites.
Soon, there was another light source; the distant orange glow of cool plasma, punctuated by the occasional flashing blue light.
By the time the artificial star pushed its way through the southern planes, it was obscured by smoke. Small bright flashes illuminated Europe, as guns fired, and nuclear missiles fell short of their target, doomed by the infinite horizon.
But, in time, the health glow of life would return. Spreading across the new seas and planes, building and advancing.
Even as the artifical star burns down they continue. Working their way through an infinite supply of resources, as they expand into ever further lands. | "What do you mean I get my job back?" I ask my old supervisor warily. The layoff was three weeks ago and I'm still a bit groggy from ringing in the new year, but this is one awkward wakeup call.
"We need you. Your replacements... they're all gone. Haven't you heard the news?" He sounds frightened. I turn on CNN.
"Breaking news: Billions of people are presumed dead as the entire continent of Asia vanished overnight when the planet became flat. We're talking live with geologist Randy Marsh and political consultant George Snuffleupagus about the phenomenon. Randy, what can you tell us about how this happened?"
"Well Anderson, it appears the earth's magnetic poles became depolarized and the tectonic plates supporting everything from the Middle East to the Marianas Trench went floating off into space. The rest of the planet suffered massive earthquakes before realigning into a shape that could be described as flat, if you didn't consider all the mountains, oceans, and newly formed gaping chasms."
"I see, and how do you expect this to affect the weather?"
"Hard to say. We still seem to be orbiting the sun, but day and night are going to be a lot more extreme with temperature differences. This could result in more frequent storms."
"George, what are the implications of this development on the economy? Global politics? Human civilization in general?"
"Humanitarian aid camps are being set up everywhere the earthquakes hit. Travellers are stranded in places they had only expected to visit, and are left with no way to get back home. As the fate of our eastern counterparts is still unknown, SpaceX CEO Elon Musk has abandoned his Martian ambition in favor of reconnecting with the other half of our divided planet. Every company that outsourced jobs is watching their stock plummet and some are expected to go bankrupt within a week. Canadian oil companies are raising prices as their competitors aren't around anymore. The Trans-Pacific Partnership is dead in the water for obvious reasons. Ukrainian separatists are abandonning the cause in Russia's absence. The Islamic State will be a lot easier to handle now that only their African splinter cells remain. As far as civilization in general, I expect that over the next century we will lose touch with eastern culture. If the east survived and is in a similar condition, the growing cultural differences could have unpredictable results if we ever regain contact with them."
I turn off the TV and take a deep breath before speaking slowly and clearly into the phone. "Fuck off, you corporate tool. I am NOT coming back." Then I hang up and apply for a job at SpaceX. |
[WP] In a fantasy land of kingdoms and all-pervasive magic, the almighty Dark Lord has conquered a great kingdom, having its ruler swear fealty to him. Under the Dark Lord's rule, education is at an all-time high, healthcare and life expectancy are tremendous, and discrimination is a distant memory. | "Nul'Karnis! Show yourself!" The paladin's voice echoed off of the barren walls of the dilapidated castle, breaking a silence that had been held for thirty years. Only the prevailing sound of wind whistling through the cracks and shattered windows answered him at first, but as the bringer of light stepped into the center of the keep's enormous court room, he set foot unknowingly inside the center of the summoning circle. Ethereal flames of purple, green, and gold erupted from the long-dead torches and dried oil-lamps that lined the room, casting an otherworldly pallor across the paladin's face. An arcane rune activated, whirling smoke and cracks of lightning spiraling into an enormous pillar that grew in height and intensity until at last it reached the ceiling. With a blast which tore the concentrated nexus of magic asunder, Nul'Karnis stepped through the void in all his glory.
The lich stood to full height before the paladin, his face warped in an ugly sneer wherever the flesh still held taut to his bones. Robes of black, purple, and gold concealed what was doubtless a grisly sight of decay and desiccation, and while one human eye shone grey from under his cowl, the red point of light burning deep within his skull betrayed his true nature. A hand, skin pulled over it like an ill-fitting glove, snaked from his robes to gesture around the room, and the multicolored flames burned brighter, filling the room with a heat that stifled the paladin in his glittering full plate. The lich's jaw audibly creaked as his voice boomed around the room, dwarfing the adventurer's earlier summons as he bellowed:
**"IT IS TWO O' CLOCK IN THE MORNING ON A TUESDAY, WHAT IN MARAE'S WIDE EARTH DO YOU WANT?!"**
The question hung in the air, the crackling of the torches and lamps his only answer. Shifting his stance slightly, the undead sorcerer placed one bony hand on his hip expectantly. "I-- er... I have come to slay you! No more shall the pallor of your corruption blight this land!" the paladin managed to stammer out, understandably somewhat off-put.
**"RIGHT, BUT AT TWO IN THE MORNING?"** The bones in the dark lord's jaw clacked as he talked. **"DON'T YOU NEED TO SLEEP? BESIDES, ALL POLITICAL COMPLAINTS ARE SUPPOSED TO BE FILED IN ADVANCE SO WE CAN DISCUSS THEM ON THURSDAYS AT THE MEETING, YOU CAN'T JUST BARGE INTO MY HOUSE AND DEMAND I MEET MY END!"**
"I can and I shall, foul-- wait, what?" The paladin stumbled slightly, his brain finally catching up to his body as his valiant charge stopped short. "Er... you... *are* Nul'Karnis, right? Dark Lord of the Undead? Conqueror of the Kingdom of Silvariana? ...The Zombie King?"
**"YES YES, I HAVE LOTS OF TITLES."** The irate mage gestured impatiently, **"NUL'KARNIS THE BLACK, HE OF FORBIDDEN KNOWLEDGE, THE WAR-BREAKER, THE GREAT EQUALIZER, WHAT OF IT?"** He gestured around the enormous room, an edge coming into his voice. **"DID YOU TRULY NEED TO BREAK INTO MY HOUSE TO ASK ME WHICH HONORIFICS I'VE BEEN GIVEN? EVEN THE UNDEAD HAVE A RIGHT TO PRIVACY YOU KNOW."**
"Do not get fresh with me!" The paladin roared, hefting his sword once more. "You have ruined this land for too long! No more shall your pox of ever-present zombies roam the fields of farming towns! No more shall your profane books poison scholars' minds with evil thoughts! No more shall innocents pray for release from the plagues and epidemics of your ilk's creation! I end all this here, tonight!"
**"..."** The lich's jaw creaked as it slowly hung open in shock. Then all at once, his entire face lit up, eyes sparkling as he realized what had happened. **"PFFFFFFFFTTT! HAHAHAHAHAAAAA! OH WOW, YOU'RE NOT KIDDING! YOU-- HA! YOU SERIOUSLY WANT TO KILL ME!"** He devolved into giggle fits, the paladin's eye twitching in rage and confusion. This was NOT how fighting a lich was supposed to go!
**"LOOK, DID YOU GET IN HERE BY YOURSELF, OR DID YOU HAVE SOME SMART-ASS ROGUE PICK THE LOCKS FOR YOU?"** He looked around the room, red pinprick eye scanning for any traces of concealment magic amidst the shadows his torches cast. **"BECAUSE I HID THE KEYS TO THIS ROOM WHERE I DID FOR A REASON."** He gestured, colored cinders swirling in the air as he mentioned each one in turn.
**"WHERE, O PALADIN, DID YOU FIND THE PURPLE KEY?"** He asked, now sounding almost smug as he waited for the response.
"At the head of an assembly location, doubtless where you or your followers hold dark sermons to those who follow you." The godly sword-wielder spat.
**"IT WAS HIDDEN IN THE PODIUM IN AN AMPHITHEATER, WHERE WE HEAR ALL PROPOSALS OF LAW AND DEMANDS AGAINST THOSE WHO ENFORCE SUCH LAWS. ONE OF MY FIRST DECREES AS THE UNDISPUTED RULER OF THIS LAND WAS THAT THE KINGDOM SHALL PASS NO LAW UNLESS IT HAS APPROVAL BY THE PEOPLES WITHIN THAT KINGDOM."** The rotting lich shrugged and gestured around the court room. **"IT'S WHY THIS CASTLE'S FALLING APART, OTHER THAN THE RARE MILITARY KERFUFFLE NOBODY USES IT SINCE THE ASSEMBLIES TAKE PLACE WITHIN EACH TOWN. NOW, WHAT OF THE GREEN KEY?"**
"It was split into two... One half hidden in a dilapidated farmhouse, the other in the cellar of a house packed with corpses."
**"DILAPIDATED? UGH, I THOUGHT I TOLD THE REVANENTS TO REPAIR THE STOREHOUSE. IN ANY CASE, YES, I MEANT TO HAVE VISITORS SEE THE BENEFITS OF HAVING THE UNDEAD PERFORM MANUAL LABOR, FREEING THEM TO PERFORM MORE VALUABLE TASKS. HAND IN HAND WITH THAT IS THE CARE FOR BOTH THE LIVING AND THE DEAD, A CLINIC WHICH SPECIALIZES IN CURING DISEASE AND POISON, AND WHICH ALSO STAVES OFF THE RAVAGES OF TIME FROM AFFECTING THOSE WHO HAVE PASSED. NOW, TELL ME ABOUT THE GOLD KEY."**
The paladin shifts his stance, looking somewhat uncomfortable as he recounts. "It was found in the library, where your tomes are kept."
**"TECHNICALLY THEY'RE THE KINGDOM'S TOMES,"** the lich corrected him, **"BUT YES. RESEARCH INTO SCHOOLS OF MAGIC AND MECHANICS SEEM TO BE THE PEOPLES' CHOICE RIGHT NOW, THOUGH TWO WEEKS AGO THERE WERE TALKS ABOUT POSSIBLY INSTITUTING A BARD'S COLLEGE. I'M NOT AGAINST IT IN PRINCIPLE, THOUGH THE ACCREDITATION PROCESS REALLY DOES NEED SOME WORK BEFORE ANYONE'S GOING TO SIGN OFF ON IT, I THINK."** He rambled, skeletal fingers tapping his chin as he pondered the idea.
"You... are undead. You COMMAND undead. You cast necromantic spells. Everything you do..." the paladin frowned at Nul'Karnis, his eyes seeing into a world beyond the material. "Everything you do is evil. That is indisputable."
**"YES."** The lich nodded, not bothering to argue what he knew to be the truth. **"THE GODS HAVE DECREED THAT MY CRAFT IS ANATHEMA TO THEM, AND I WON'T DISPUTE IT."**
"It is my task to end evil. It is my charge, as given to me by my god." The paladin continued.
**"SO LONG AS YOU'RE A PALADIN, YES."**
"Why...? Why are you doing all this? Why conquer a kingdom just to surrender all power from the conquest? Why go against the gods to accomplish so noble a goal?"
**"BECAUSE..."** the lich pulled back his cowl, letting the moon and flames light his grotesque face, "I took a terrible oath once, to help those in need, in order to change the world for the better, and it meant I must sacrifice myself if need be for the good of mankind. In return, I got the power I needed to make that change possible."
The silence this time was much more solemn, but it was the lich who broke it first.
"If you want to destroy me, you should know that breaking this body won't do anything. You'll have to destroy my phylactery." He gestured behind him to the double doors, an ornate inscription around the doorframe marking it as the entrance to the throne room. "I will make no move to stop you." The paladin's face hardened at this, hand on his sword once more as he strode past the undead ruler to investigate. The door opened with surprising ease, swinging wide as he approached the throne. Sitting on the rotting seat was an ornate golden crown, one he knew must have once belonged to the ruler of Silvariana. But what caught his attention was not the crown; instead, a glint of simple steel shone in the pale moonlight, resting against the side of the throne. The evil pouring off of it was unmistakable, and he approached with trepidation. But what he saw when he drew near sucked the breath out of him, as though the icy hand of Death itself was on his shoulder.
*Kindle the Light*, read the inscription hewn into the flat of the blade. It was a reminder that through acts of mercy, kindness, and forgiveness, the best traits of humanity could be brought out in the world, beating back despair.
...
Somewhere in Silvariana, it is rumored, you can see foul creatures plowing and tilling the fields. In certain places at certain times, you can find a black mass being held to discuss how the evil kingdom is governed. Secreted away in forlorn towers you can meet mages and alchemists of a strange and terrifying breed, crafting nightmarish spells and drafts that keep the undead in peak form. If you are cautious, you can spy a death knight patrolling among the towns, ensuring the Dark Lord Nul'Karnis' rule is undisputed. And if you collect the Keys to the Kingdom and approach the Dilapidated Keep, you might just gain entrance to the throne room. But inside are no riches, no wealth, no great and magical items. Just a crown and two swords, reminders of past lives.
*Kindle the Light*, professes one.
*Shelter the Light*, reads the other. | When Lord Altair knelt to Alak-Zhul, the Dark Lord we thought that everything would end, but sages say that all ends are beginnings, and that is exactly what happened. Alak-Zhul and his undead army captured the city of Umogria, where the last human survivors waited for their deaths at hands of the dark soldiers. The Dark Lord rushed through the royal palace, where the Praetorians protected Lord Altair, the Last Ruler of the Last City. Alak-Zhul devoured the souls of the guards and shot a bolt of darkness at the throne room's door. Lord Altair wielded the might Sol Blade, heirloom of his family, the one that had banished the original Dark Lord from our world, but Alak was prepared for this trick. Alak-Zhul teared through existence planes and created a new dimension at the throne room, what happened there, only Lord Altair and Alak-Zhul know, but what everybody saw next was the surrender of Lord Altair, to the Dark Lord.
Alak-Zhul reunited all of the townsfolk at the ruins of the royal palace, the ones who refused to go were devoured by the Dark Lord. What the Dark Lord did was totally unexpected, but I knew that he wasn't too bad at all after all of this. With His Right Hand he rebuilt the Royal Palace, and all of what he had destroyed in the Siege of Umogria, after that with His Left Hand he opened a dark portal, from where the dead soldiers and peasants walked out. Alak-Zhul declared the end of the monarchy in Umogria without anybody noticing it.
Alak-Zhul then called out His Wizard Council, the most dreaded mages that this country had known, to create a huge orb of pure dark power over Umogria. Then He did what changed all of our lives, the Dark Orb began to transmit dark power to all of the city, killing all plagues and erradicating all disease of the city. Then the Orb sent his Seekers after our sages, the Seekers ate the sages and after a while, they retuned, blighted with all the knowledge of the dark arts and other stuff.
The Blighted Sages created new health, education, and other laws, and with the dark powers of the Orb, all of our peasants were blighted also, to become filled with pure dark power, which made our lifespan to triple.
The Dark Lord, Alak-Zhul, was not dark, he only needed some friends. | |
[WP] In a fantasy land of kingdoms and all-pervasive magic, the almighty Dark Lord has conquered a great kingdom, having its ruler swear fealty to him. Under the Dark Lord's rule, education is at an all-time high, healthcare and life expectancy are tremendous, and discrimination is a distant memory. | He grew up on a farm. Few souls speak of that now but it remains the truth, one supposes that for so grand a leader it is considered uncouth or indeed unwise to mention it. Yet I believe this is the key to understanding him.
I spoke to many people who saw the Fall of the D'Arnouths. What struck many of them was the speed, but every single person who was alive that day remembers the silence. The normal state of any conflict in this world is one of siege and pitched battle. Mages attempting spell and counter-spell as armies sit and camp and disease festers. Otherwise two forces will meet upon some open plain and if no parley can be made then they will engage and retreat once exhausted.
The Fall of the D'Arnouths was not like this. When a force is so vast it blocks out the sun itself, what can mere fireballs and city walls do to stop it? When a guardsman destroys an enemy only for ten more to take their place? And that those ten ignore the guardsmen and continue past him regardless of his strikes? They marched straight to the White Keep and demanded Lord D'Arnouth approach. It says much of of D'Arnouth's character that he queried upon what basis was their claim to the throne of Arkastria. It is then the Dark Lord spoke the words that are inscribed to this day below his statue at that very spot.
"My claim is my army. My army is this land."
And no soul there could deny that this was true. What is a land and a people if not their past? And life continued for many as it had before, at least to begin with. But once the borders were secure, and it was made clear that any attempt by a foreign power to capitalise on the situation would be met with immediate retribution, then things started to change.
The earliest mention I could find was a harvester in North Orlia. She had gone out early one morning (given the heat of that dry land) to find her sickle missing. As she looked out into the fields a figure was there, dry and desiccated, silently moving the sickle back and forth as the wheat fell in neat rows. The figure continued all day, even as the midday sun blazed down upon him, then moved onto the neighboring farm. The next day, a different figure arrived and stored the wheat in the barn.
Soon, there was no need to shear sheep, or mill grain, or weave cloth. And then the merchants found figures appearing who would carry their loads on cracked and fossilised hooves. They would never enter a home. You could spend a week and a winter's firewood destroying one and another would arrive. The Mage's Guild took them apart and found nothing but bones, but then that's all they are.
My doctor gave me something that he said would help stop the pox when it came next season. He still has a rough Orlian accent. I often wonder what his life would have been otherwise, dead at forty five with joints chipped and worn from walking the corn each day. I myself have the time to write this. Would my parents have had the time to teach me to write without the Dark Lord?
He grew up on a farm. He must have seen the constant cycle of life and death and asked why. No other soul has emerged with his talents. No one goes to the temples now, the Gods are as silent as his army. I wonder what he intends for us. Are we his children, or his harvest? | When Lord Altair knelt to Alak-Zhul, the Dark Lord we thought that everything would end, but sages say that all ends are beginnings, and that is exactly what happened. Alak-Zhul and his undead army captured the city of Umogria, where the last human survivors waited for their deaths at hands of the dark soldiers. The Dark Lord rushed through the royal palace, where the Praetorians protected Lord Altair, the Last Ruler of the Last City. Alak-Zhul devoured the souls of the guards and shot a bolt of darkness at the throne room's door. Lord Altair wielded the might Sol Blade, heirloom of his family, the one that had banished the original Dark Lord from our world, but Alak was prepared for this trick. Alak-Zhul teared through existence planes and created a new dimension at the throne room, what happened there, only Lord Altair and Alak-Zhul know, but what everybody saw next was the surrender of Lord Altair, to the Dark Lord.
Alak-Zhul reunited all of the townsfolk at the ruins of the royal palace, the ones who refused to go were devoured by the Dark Lord. What the Dark Lord did was totally unexpected, but I knew that he wasn't too bad at all after all of this. With His Right Hand he rebuilt the Royal Palace, and all of what he had destroyed in the Siege of Umogria, after that with His Left Hand he opened a dark portal, from where the dead soldiers and peasants walked out. Alak-Zhul declared the end of the monarchy in Umogria without anybody noticing it.
Alak-Zhul then called out His Wizard Council, the most dreaded mages that this country had known, to create a huge orb of pure dark power over Umogria. Then He did what changed all of our lives, the Dark Orb began to transmit dark power to all of the city, killing all plagues and erradicating all disease of the city. Then the Orb sent his Seekers after our sages, the Seekers ate the sages and after a while, they retuned, blighted with all the knowledge of the dark arts and other stuff.
The Blighted Sages created new health, education, and other laws, and with the dark powers of the Orb, all of our peasants were blighted also, to become filled with pure dark power, which made our lifespan to triple.
The Dark Lord, Alak-Zhul, was not dark, he only needed some friends. | |
[WP] Education now consists of uploading the human knowledge base into your brain at birth. Describe the life of a person who has received a corrupt upload. | I could hear the muffled screams through the walls. This happened every so often after they were switched on, I just hated that it was the children that it happened to.
Sometime in the 21st century they figured out that our evolution had peaked because after the physical stopped, there wasn't enough time to learn the sum of human experience. Distracted by the great meme, children fell behind and we began to devolve so to speak.
A solution was found with inserting a small computer into children's brains that could accept the data and allow them to access as they needed. But they soon found out that not all data was important or beneficial, worse yet was when the child would fidget turning the insertion process. Complications arouse.
I entered the holding room to the usual, blue walls, cabinets, two nervous parents in chairs, and the holding table in the center.
"CLICK HERE IF YOU HAVE A SMALL PENIS"
This was a rarer case. Generally when the advertisements take over they're positive, like that nice Nigerian Prince. It's just odd to have a five year old insulting me in such a way that medical downloads can never prepare you for without paying for the extra content. At least he was strapped to the table.
"Specialist," the mother sobbed, "can you-"
"SEXY LOCAL SHOVELS 5.37 MILES FROM YOU, INCLUDING OP'S BACKHO"
"-fix my baby boy?"
This was certainly an unusual case. | Everything was wrong. Or at least that's what I knew. Technology has come a long way in the last century or so. Human have found ways to upload knowledge directly to the brain. Basic knowledge from the old K-12 system is uploaded at birth and school only lasts until children turn about 10. After that they were free to pursue their passions, learn their trade, etc. College was now incredibly affordable. All you had to do was buy the courses you wanted and have a doctor upload them for you. Certification only took 3 minutes. Most people found a cool career they liked around 16 and worked to raise money to buy those courses. I unfortunately didn'y have it so easy. My upload was different. I was intentionally bred to be a soldier. Knowledge of firearms, war tactics, and martial arts all known to me as far back as I could remember. But something had gone wrong. Perhaps a glitch, a corrupted file, or a military doctor trying to warn the general population through me. A file enclosed with every conspiracy our country ever took part in. Things so far back the history books don't even bother anymore. Presidential assassinations, terrorist attacks, rigged elections, fake wars. I knew it all. But I also knew how classified most of this stuff was, and if I told anyone, I could be killed, then discredited as a psycho who spends too much time on the net. So I left the army. I couldn't justify killing people who didn't really know what they were fighting for. I decided to become a doctor and try to help the world. And hopefully, spread this knowledge to others as well | |
[WP] There were Heroes when I was a boy. | There were Heroes when I was a boy, but I looked away from them. I looked east to the rising sun and said, "I will know no cold in my life, no gray-faced hardness but kindness, no needing my neighbor like another leg or arm. I'm a child of the sun."
And they went out with their axes and their hard weathered hands, and they shouldered the firewood from the grinding North Dakota snow, and they shouldered each other, and they shouldered the world, but I looked away from them to the fire and said, "I will know no wearing on my life, no stooping grimness but sureness, no needing my neighbor like a pillar for my roof. I'm a child of the fire."
And the war-pictures came and I puffed with the blood and the color and the songs. I huffed at Germany. And the Heroes sat low in the fields with their backs to the rows of wheat and corn, and they looked at the world that was killing them, and they remembered the trenches and the bullets and the millions all holding frozen together like tin-men to keep a line, to keep a road, to keep a bridge, to keep a nothing patch of earth that was not alive but was life itself to the gray men hanging onto it. But I looked away from them to the war, and I said, "I will know no doubt of life, no awesome meekness but happiness, no needing my neighbor like a rampart. I'm a child of glory."
And when I came back broken, shaken, shattered, Ally, Nazi, Jewish, hungry, killer, killed, and killing, everything now part of me, now gone from me, but North Dakota's soil working up my feet and hands and arms into my blood an earthen miracle, not redemption, but of mending - then I sat there with the others and we ate and drank and needed, for there were never any Heroes, and the corn-crop is Valhalla, and God is just the sky.
-----
EDIT: Thank you all so much for the comments! More stuff at r/droptoprocket | There were Heroes, when I was a boy.
Now, we only have the self-interested. The survivors. Those who will do what they can do put another day on the tally of their lives. No greater schemes; no grander plans. Nothing for others. Nothing for our people.
But when I was a boy, there were Heroes.
What's that, lad?
Ah, bless your heart. I'll tell you. A Hero is one who fights for others. Who stands up for what is right. Who does what needs to be done to protect. For all of us, lad. You understand that? For *all* of us.
Like what? What do you mean?
Like who?
Like, specific stories? I can do that.
Well, first, there were the Men who Went to War. They took their lives in their hands and killed other men to protect us.
Well, no. Nobody was actually coming to *kill us.*
Well, they were protecting our... I guess you don't have a word for it now, but we used to call it 'economic interests'. They basically let us continue to live the way we were living.
Of course to the detriment of others. How else would you sustain something like that, you little scamp? They fought for our... well, not safety. But certainly for the safety of our many comforts.
Well, yeah. If you want to look at it that way. There were certain - individuals, I guess - who would do stuff like that. They shot people who didn't deserve it. Raped anyone who wouldn't stab them. Bombed the shit out of civilians who had no idea what was going on. But they weren't the *heroes*, you know. The heroes were the ones who didn't do that.
Come on, lad. Come on. Don't be like that. What sense does that make? A claim like that? That our soldiers were heroes by default unless they committed heinous acts that by all logic shouldn't be committed by moral human beings anyway?
Well, what about the philanthropists? Those that dedicated their lives to causes? Like sheltering the homeless?
What? No. There were still *loads* of homeless. But they -
Well, all the ones I *know* about were really rich, yeah.
No, *huge* houses. But there were those that cured disease. They -
Well, no, there wasn't any *real* progress in that regard, no. I mean there was this guy who dedicated billions to getting rid of malaria, and he...
Yeah, I know what you're going to say.
No, *millions* died from malaria. Horrible, horrible, deaths. But that's not the mark of a hero. A hero *tries.*
I guess, technically, you could describe people who tried and didn't succeed to be 'failures', yeah.
I guess you could say that 'failures' can't be considered heroes. But they -
Oh, what about the everyday heroes? The people that saved a cat from being crushed by a train, or pulled an orphan from a burning building?
Name one? Really? Well...
I don't agree with your logic. I don't believe that if someone is a hero you should be able to name them.
Well it did make an impact. To the person who was saved. I know that's not the same as what you're talking about, but that doesn't make it less heroic.
OK, OK. I see your point. There's a division between 'noble' and 'hero'. I'm glad you agree there are many acts of nobility. Kindness. Grace.
So a *hero?*
What about the actors who... no, forget that.
What about the...
Look, lad. You'll just have to take it from me. There were *thousands* of heroes in the time that i lived. We just didn't know what the word meant until there weren't any left.
_______________________
Edit: Rampant italics
| |
[WP] James Bond (MI5) was suave, Jason Bourne (CIA) was professional, and Jack Bauer (FBI) was aggressive. Describe the 4th JB. | The cool James Bond never missed an opportunity with the ladies. The Sly Jason Bourne was efficient and calculated with his objectives. And the rough and tough Jack Bauer knew how to crack some heads when he needed to.
But Jack Black took to music instead of his guns, and sang sweet melodies to soothe even his greatest foes. Music was his weapon. |
The suave James Bond foiled criminals and evildoers worldwide.
The professional Jason Bourne struggled as an amnesiac rogue.
The aggressive Jack Bauer prevented terrorists from destroying the world in short time frames.
The foremost and fourth JB hynoptizes teenage girls and gathers a large following who obsess over his saggy pants and skeptically-procured nudes. His mediocre music is culturally sensational and he fades in and out of public attention.
His name is Justin Bieber.
----
*Read my novel at /r/penofigilix* | |
[WP] It suddenly becomes possible to gain XP and level up in the real world, but you can only do so by getting kills. | ...The world changed. Some claimed a higher power had the system in place, others believed it was a plague, to me it was an opportunity. "Adam?...Are you pleased with this years yield?" John said. John was my most trusted advisory and Chief Operations Officer. As for me, my name is Adam West, founder and Chief Executive Officer of the worlds largest experience farm, 'Experiance'.
On March 15th the world found out it had the ability to gain experience with killing humans. Random killings were rampant at first and some thought chaos would consume the world. John and I saw opportunity in the chaos and began what most believe to be the most controversial but best alternative to end the chaos. Experiance began growing humans for slaughter to gain experience. In the early years people found out that without gaining experience you would slowly begin to die, the worlds population went from seven billion to a mere two billion that first year.
Experiance engineers came up with a way to grow humans at nearly five times the rate of a standard birth. Our first year in business we were able to meet the demand of the entire western hemispere. With over four thousand facilities we have become the worlds provider of cheap and easy experience. | 4 years had passed. That is how long it has been since I have been fighting this one mother fucker. It has been 4 years since the 3rd last human has died. And now all that is left is this ONE guy by the name of Ted.
I have killed billions. The powers I have attained are immense. My skin is 2 inches thick titanium alloy, I can move almost anything with only my mind, I have the strength of 2000 elephants, I can read my opponents mind, I can fly at near the speed of light, I stand 12 feet tall... this list goes on and on.
But this last guy Ted, he is one level above me and I just can't seem to win. It has been 4 years we have fought on this desolate wasteland. We can both output enough destruction that equates to the power of 1000 suns, but we also absorb that same amount.
He refuses to accept my truce. Right now he is on the other side of the Earth taking a rest.
I am lonely. | |
[WP] It suddenly becomes possible to gain XP and level up in the real world, but you can only do so by getting kills. | You understood.
After weeks spent in your dorm room watching late night documentaries on Yang Xinhai, Gary Ridgway, and Ted Bundy, and burying your nose into books on the Zodiac killer, on Son of Sam, and BTK, you understood.
After seeing your roommates’ quiet, brooding stares from the corner of your eye every so often, hearing her drop her medical tools down on her desk and work on sharpening scalpels with a new attention draw to the blades that replaced her carefree attitude, you understood.
After noticing the quiet, muffled conversations she and her boyfriend had while you slept, and hearing the mentions of more and more bodies at their morgue followed by FBI agents, you understood.
After glancing over their shiny new phones and computers and reading emails with CLASSIFIED screaming all over them, no worry about security or about you, you understood.
After hearing one of them behind you while you showered, his hot breath steaming across the cold water, his hand sliding down your back to find your spine while you hid behind carefree singing of a song to make him think you couldn’t feel those fingertips, you understood.
After silencing him with an elbow jab and a switch of who held the knife, you understood.
After you stepped out covered in a mix of his blood and the water, and seeing the shocked look stain her prideful, snarky face, and her eyes glance down to his head in your hands with a beginner’s realization, you understood.
After you quieted her with a towel to keep the neighbors from hearing, and bashed her face into the sink until it broke and she stopped squirming, you understood.
You understood the smile on your face when you looked in the mirror and ran your bloody hands over your cheekbones.You understood the warm, trickling feeling inside of your stomach that traveled up your chest and hugged your heart in comfort. You understood the indulges you shared with your father that he never explained and just silently ordered you to follow by his example. You understood the glint in your eye and the evolutionary trait that you unlocked deep within your primal instincts.
Your peaceful bliss was interrupted by one of their shiny phones. You smiled and plucked it up with your fingers, and answered the RESTRICTED number with a satisfied coo that melted into your voice and words.
“I’m sorry, but the person you have called is now dead, thanks to Ripper.” | 4 years had passed. That is how long it has been since I have been fighting this one mother fucker. It has been 4 years since the 3rd last human has died. And now all that is left is this ONE guy by the name of Ted.
I have killed billions. The powers I have attained are immense. My skin is 2 inches thick titanium alloy, I can move almost anything with only my mind, I have the strength of 2000 elephants, I can read my opponents mind, I can fly at near the speed of light, I stand 12 feet tall... this list goes on and on.
But this last guy Ted, he is one level above me and I just can't seem to win. It has been 4 years we have fought on this desolate wasteland. We can both output enough destruction that equates to the power of 1000 suns, but we also absorb that same amount.
He refuses to accept my truce. Right now he is on the other side of the Earth taking a rest.
I am lonely. | |
[WP] It suddenly becomes possible to gain XP and level up in the real world, but you can only do so by getting kills. | "Hold on, I've gotta do my pre-homework before we go," Keisha says. Your girlfriend walks into her bedroom, the glow of a shop light over a tank silhouetting her.
"Keisha, we're gonna be late," you complain.
Her voice is muffled by the wall between you. "I just want to make sure I do well on this test. I need at least 300 hp before I even begin studying."
You can see her hand poised above the huge ant farm, ready to smash down on top of millions of ants on a slice of apple.
"Keisha, stop! That's too intimate! It's like you're peeing in front of me!" you say, covering your eyes. She turns around, flashing a flirty smile.
"At least I use ants like a normal person. Close the door if you're so grossed out!"
You close the door and sink into the living room couch. A couple minutes go by, and Keisha leaves the bedroom.
"Have you ever known someone that didn't use ants?" you ask.
"No. I heard there's this really weird physics major who uses chipmunks and mice and stuff before tests so he can max out. With a knife! I don't think it's true though."
"I know some vegans who use vegetables. It's worth like, a quarter point for every plant. They seem happy though, so that's cool," you say. You both stand and begin walking out of the apartment and towards the car.
"That's just way too extreme for me. Why not just use invasive ants?" she asks. "They're just so convenient. Sure, you have to kill a lot of them, but their plentiful and easy to kill. I can't imagine ever using something you couldn't breed in your own home."
"Now that we have the HP Cap Laws, I don't really care what people use," you say. "It's just not fair that people would use cows and elephants and stuff in the past. Although, I've heard the president still dips into endangered species every once in a while."
"Oh, that old conspiracy theory? You know you can access his HP logs online, right? It's all made up," Keisha says. "Oh my god, did you hear about Ryan?"
This was shocking. Ryan is a close friend of yours, but you haven't heard from him in a couple days.
"I meant to tell you right when you came over, but it slipped my mind!" Keisha explains.
"What happened?"
"He was caught killing twice as many ants as his allowance trying to double major without permission. Apparently he didn't want to choose between biology and chemistry by the end of sophomore year, but he missed the deadline to declare. So he forged the papers to each department, used a shit ton of ants, maxed out on the categories he needed to, and aced the tests."
"Fuck... fuck, that's so bad. Was he expelled?" you ask.
"It's still under investigation, but the police got in on it too. No one has really talked to him since it all went down. He got a penalty of -5 levels in each category though."
"That's terrible. Let's try go visit him!"
--------
Couldn't think how to wrap this up shortly, but here are ideas that could make this a much longer story:
-Serial killers get really powerful really quickly, which means policemen/military have to be maxed out completely in every level in order to deal with someone that gets out of control. Which is good/ absolutely terrible depending on the situation.
-People in power get to attain more XP secretly, meaning they are stronger and smarter than everyone, making citizens easy to oppress and suppress.
-No one can truly obtain their potential without very carefully selecting what category they want to spend their XP in. This means people are either experts in only one field, or people are jacks of all trades but best at none, depending on what kind of gamer they would be. | 4 years had passed. That is how long it has been since I have been fighting this one mother fucker. It has been 4 years since the 3rd last human has died. And now all that is left is this ONE guy by the name of Ted.
I have killed billions. The powers I have attained are immense. My skin is 2 inches thick titanium alloy, I can move almost anything with only my mind, I have the strength of 2000 elephants, I can read my opponents mind, I can fly at near the speed of light, I stand 12 feet tall... this list goes on and on.
But this last guy Ted, he is one level above me and I just can't seem to win. It has been 4 years we have fought on this desolate wasteland. We can both output enough destruction that equates to the power of 1000 suns, but we also absorb that same amount.
He refuses to accept my truce. Right now he is on the other side of the Earth taking a rest.
I am lonely. | |
[WP] It suddenly becomes possible to gain XP and level up in the real world, but you can only do so by getting kills. | The sound of tires screeching came from above. I looked up to see a convertible shoot off the overpass. It sailed overhead and into the ditch of the road below. Fumbling with my cell as I rushed from the sidewalk across the street when I was hit by a blast of heat as the car exploded. Standing in the median on the phone "There's just been an accident by the overpass outside of town. The car broke through the railing and exploded..." I hear the sound of banging on metal from the wreckage. "Oh god, they're still alive I hear movement inside there, please send someone quickly." A loud bang, followed by another that causes the half crumpled car door to fly open. A man with a soot stained long white long coat and a hair net crawls out the door of the upside down car. He throws his smouldering hair net from his head and idly picks a bit of melted dashboard plastic off of his hands, completely unconcerned with the inferno raging a few feet away. Baffled and ignoring the 911 operator on the phone I stammer "Are you OK?"
"Yeah, just fine. Shame about the car though." He says, walking closer so he doesn't have to shout over the sound of roaring flames, completely ignoring the vehicle changing lanes to avoid his burning car.
"How did you survive that? You aren't even hurt!"
"Its fine. I work at the chicken factory down the road. I'm level 220. 1 XP each really adds up." Another truck slowing down and changing lanes to avoid the smokey wreckage. "I better get going, thanks for coming to help." He nimbly jumps into the back of the moving pickup and waves goodbye as the oblivious driver passes the accident and starts to pick up speed again. | 4 years had passed. That is how long it has been since I have been fighting this one mother fucker. It has been 4 years since the 3rd last human has died. And now all that is left is this ONE guy by the name of Ted.
I have killed billions. The powers I have attained are immense. My skin is 2 inches thick titanium alloy, I can move almost anything with only my mind, I have the strength of 2000 elephants, I can read my opponents mind, I can fly at near the speed of light, I stand 12 feet tall... this list goes on and on.
But this last guy Ted, he is one level above me and I just can't seem to win. It has been 4 years we have fought on this desolate wasteland. We can both output enough destruction that equates to the power of 1000 suns, but we also absorb that same amount.
He refuses to accept my truce. Right now he is on the other side of the Earth taking a rest.
I am lonely. | |
[WP] It suddenly becomes possible to gain XP and level up in the real world, but you can only do so by getting kills. | The room was filled with so many different people. Most of them were frail, older ones who had no family, but there were also younger ones who were sick and had no hope in life. There were a handful of ones in jumpsuits, obviously hardened criminals who were there against their will. But what made me hesitate was seeing the young, healthy ones. They had no business being here. Who let them in here?
"You need to do this. There's no other way! "
"But some of them shouldn't be here!"
"We don't have much time. There's no time for debate"
He was right.
Every since the one that we call "The Stranger" decided to go on a shooting rampage, nobody has been able to take him down. The Stranger started his rampage at a crowded mall, leveling up faster than anyone has known. Swat couldn't take him down. He was too high of a level. Before we knew it, he wiped out so many that even the military couldn't take him. His level has gotten so high, we had no choice but to acquiesce to his demands. That was 2 years ago. Today, we all live under his control.
There had been assassination attempts by many, but none had even come close to making him bleed. The only way would be for someone of an equally high level to kill him. I was the unfortunate one nominated to do the deed.
Though there was an initial hesitation, I pulled the trigger. Within seconds, the entire room had been wiped out. All gunned down. I felt stronger.
This was the last one. How many times have I done this? I've lost count. But I had a feeling this was enough.
Rooms and rooms filled with men, women, and children, most of them volunteering for the greater good, all gunned down in the past 24 hours.
It's finally over.
"Good job".
I was handed a gun.
"You are strong enough to take out The Stranger with just one bullet."
I'm a little relieved. It's almost over.
I could hear my sister cry out, "why do we have to do it this way? Please come back. Please."
I looked at her and said, "even good people will become corrupt when they possess too much power. Maybe it won't happen today, or tomorrow, but one day it will. I can't take those chances".
I checked the gun. Two bullets. Good.
| 4 years had passed. That is how long it has been since I have been fighting this one mother fucker. It has been 4 years since the 3rd last human has died. And now all that is left is this ONE guy by the name of Ted.
I have killed billions. The powers I have attained are immense. My skin is 2 inches thick titanium alloy, I can move almost anything with only my mind, I have the strength of 2000 elephants, I can read my opponents mind, I can fly at near the speed of light, I stand 12 feet tall... this list goes on and on.
But this last guy Ted, he is one level above me and I just can't seem to win. It has been 4 years we have fought on this desolate wasteland. We can both output enough destruction that equates to the power of 1000 suns, but we also absorb that same amount.
He refuses to accept my truce. Right now he is on the other side of the Earth taking a rest.
I am lonely. | |
[WP] It suddenly becomes possible to gain XP and level up in the real world, but you can only do so by getting kills. | I love my job. I really do. I work in a kitchen. Oh, no, not as a cook. I am way to high level to be a freaking dish-maker. With a grin, I ready my weapon. Soon after we found out that people could level up and you need to kill in order to get XP, my hour came.
My level surpasses everyone elses. I have hoarded so many Points that I could learn any skill in a blink of an eye.
Because I kill so much. Movement. We opened again. I am able to hunt again. With only one hit, I see the body vaporize, liquids flying everywhere. And I already focus on my next victim...
"Danny?" I miss the hit, glare up to know who dares to interrupt me. It's the chief.
"Look Danny, I thank you for swatting all the flies, but we have those sticky things to get them. We really need you to wash the dishes or we have to let you go."
I sigh, put away my ultimate weapon and wander into the kitchen. They just want to stop me from becoming too powerful. Maybe I should show them their place... | 4 years had passed. That is how long it has been since I have been fighting this one mother fucker. It has been 4 years since the 3rd last human has died. And now all that is left is this ONE guy by the name of Ted.
I have killed billions. The powers I have attained are immense. My skin is 2 inches thick titanium alloy, I can move almost anything with only my mind, I have the strength of 2000 elephants, I can read my opponents mind, I can fly at near the speed of light, I stand 12 feet tall... this list goes on and on.
But this last guy Ted, he is one level above me and I just can't seem to win. It has been 4 years we have fought on this desolate wasteland. We can both output enough destruction that equates to the power of 1000 suns, but we also absorb that same amount.
He refuses to accept my truce. Right now he is on the other side of the Earth taking a rest.
I am lonely. | |
[WP] It suddenly becomes possible to gain XP and level up in the real world, but you can only do so by getting kills. | **Adam**: "Please, don't try anything you're about to see us do, at home."
**Jaimie**: "Ever!"
\**Intro starts*\*
**Today on Mythbusters, Adam and Jaimie will experience, just how experience works. They'll settle the score with a controversial issue, and... get a little philosophical. Adam Savage, Jaimie Hyneman, between them more than 40 years of special effects experience... etc. etc.**
*Adam is busy cleaning his hands. Jaimie comes into focus.*
**Jaimie speaks up**: "So what do the fans want this time?"
**Adam turns**: "Glad, you asked! Right now, everyone is still getting used to this whole "video-gamey" system with its up and downs and beeps and boops. This wasn't exactly a myth per say, but people wanted us to find out how it all works."
**Jaimie**: "Well seems pretty straightforward to me. You kill something and it makes you stronger; it's survival of the fittest in a way... So are you still washing your hands?"
**Adam**: "That's just it! We know the basics, but want to know the details, like... how much experience, if any, do we get from killing germs? Do different things give different amounts? And how can we use explosions to get exciting results?"
**Jaimie**: "I can think of a few ways we can setup this experiment and get those results."
**Adam**: "As can I. Let's get to work!"
-----
**While Adam and Jaimie get all the mechanics of their experiment in order, Kari, Grant, and Tory tackle something bigger.**
*The Build Team stand in the workshop building.*
**Kari**: "So now that life is a bit different and exciting in many ways, our fans wanted us to settle a pretty heavy issue."
**Tory**: "What kind of issue?"
**Kari**: "They want to know... when does life begin? Is abortion killing a life, or removing a fetus?"
**Tory and Grant**: "Woah."
**Tory**: "I'm surprised we're allowed to tackle this... but I guess no one else is willing to."
**Grant**: "Who even decided to turn to us for something this big?"
**Kari**: "I'm actually pretty excited about this! In fact, I know just how to start this off! We're going to first test the myth that inanimate objects *can* gain experience and level up."
**Tory**: "You mean like a chair or a book; well, both of those were made up of living things once.
**Kari**: "Right. If we find out if inanimate objects can get experience or not, then we can then see how to determine that hard-to-find moment of conception and life."
**Tory**: "Oh! How about using Buster?"
**Grant**: "I can do you even better! I'll design a machine that'll have him leveling up in no time!"
**Kari**: "Well... I guess I'm left with finding things to get experience from."
-----
**Coming up... Will Adam and Jaimie find the perfect build? Can Buster gain a few levels?... etc. etc. **
\**Commercial about Chasing Storms or Selling Stuff at Auctions*\*
-----
(To be continued) | 4 years had passed. That is how long it has been since I have been fighting this one mother fucker. It has been 4 years since the 3rd last human has died. And now all that is left is this ONE guy by the name of Ted.
I have killed billions. The powers I have attained are immense. My skin is 2 inches thick titanium alloy, I can move almost anything with only my mind, I have the strength of 2000 elephants, I can read my opponents mind, I can fly at near the speed of light, I stand 12 feet tall... this list goes on and on.
But this last guy Ted, he is one level above me and I just can't seem to win. It has been 4 years we have fought on this desolate wasteland. We can both output enough destruction that equates to the power of 1000 suns, but we also absorb that same amount.
He refuses to accept my truce. Right now he is on the other side of the Earth taking a rest.
I am lonely. | |
[WP] It suddenly becomes possible to gain XP and level up in the real world, but you can only do so by getting kills. | The man sat behind a desk alone before me. He looked at me through tired eyes before speaking.
"I have to tell someone. You're the only one strong enough and trustworthy enough for me to tell.
I'm benevolent to all who come peacefully. I heal their injuries, cure their diseases, help them forget their pain. Those who come to take what I have? They die, and add their power to mine. No one can challenge me, not as I am today. Anyone who would have the power to do so would not risk their own lives with so many others still there to reap.
When the Changing happened, the world was plunged into chaos. Those who killed became stronger and unlocked new powers and abilities. These powers came in clusters; one type could summon the elements. Another could augment their strength and speed to superhuman levels. Another could mesmerize and control the minds of the weak.
I was a prison guard, a sharpshooter on the watchtowers. It wasn't long before the first set of Leveled came for the criminals locked in my facility. Unarmed and locked in cells, the prisoners would be easy prey. But I had my orders - prisoners were to be kept in, and the Leveled kept out. They were weak - no more than level 3 or 4. They died one after the other as my bullets entered their skulls. I gained 5 levels that day.
Most really powerful leveled folks were one of the destructive types. Me? I had healing. A little bit of radiant infusion to weapons, quite a bit of increased strength and endurance, but mostly healing. Wounds closed, infections just cleared up. Eventually the prisoners figured out what was going on with the Change and turned on each other, and we had to put them down to prevent them from killing each other and escaping. After the prisoners were gone, the other guards left - either to hide or seek their own strength. I stayed though. I opened the place up to the weak and infirm as a refuge. Became a bit of a leader or father to them. Every time we were assaulted, our foes were captured and brought before me. I served as judge, jury, and executioner. I protect my own, and I don't brook violence against them.
And so I grew stronger. The world has thinned out now - fewer and fewer people. Those who have survived have joined clans and gangs. I heard a rumor that out west someone's even trying to get a real city-state going. Killing doesn't happen much these days. But I just keep Leveling. Lost track of how many times now - hundreds, more than anyone I've ever heard of. My flock thinks I'm a gift from God, a holy prophet, their righteous protector. I'm not about to dispel that notion.
My quarters in this prison turned sanctuary are in the old solitary confinement area. No one is allowed back here but me, not since I consigned myself to my plan. You see, after a couple years of Leveling my healing got stronger and stronger. I could cure cancer, bring people back from mortal wounds. Then one day a stranger showed up. He was off in the head, wouldn't let me examine or try to heal him. That night he killed an old lady and the next morning we did what we had to. I put a bullet in his head and his light went out forever. I felt the now-familiar surge of power as I leveled up yet again. But this time it was a little different. I felt a compulsion... I walked up to the corpse of the man I'd just killed and laid my hand on his chest. Power surged through me and light surrounded me and the killer opened his eyes. *Resurrection*. I'd raised him from the dead.
I let someone else put him down after that. I retreated to my quarters, mind reeling. I felt a sense of honor and duty to my flock, but this gift... this new gift was amazing! What could I do with it? It was then that I knew how I would proceed.
No one's left to challenge me. But I keep getting stronger. No one sees me kill new victims - I even stepped down as executioner, allowing those I trust to take the lives that need to be taken. That's why you're my executioner, and you're the most powerful one in this place save myself. No one knows how I keep getting stronger and stronger. But I do. And now it's time once again."
The man, my leader, my prophet stood from his desk and walked to the walls. He pressed a button and a buzzer sounded throughout the solitary confinement area. 20 doors opened and the faint smell of death wafted out. The bodies were tied to chairs securely, their mouths gagged and their throats slit. Layer upon layer of dried blood covered their bindings, laps and the floor around them.
White light surrounded him as he raised his hands, looking as much like an angel as the man I knew. 20 lolling heads snapped up, screaming into the gags. Their eyes bulged wide and they strained against their bindings.
"They're criminals, the worst kind of men. Doomed to die. Still I don't know if anyone deserves this, day in, day out. But I do what I must." My prophet drew a long, sharp blade from his boot and advanced toward the first cell. | 4 years had passed. That is how long it has been since I have been fighting this one mother fucker. It has been 4 years since the 3rd last human has died. And now all that is left is this ONE guy by the name of Ted.
I have killed billions. The powers I have attained are immense. My skin is 2 inches thick titanium alloy, I can move almost anything with only my mind, I have the strength of 2000 elephants, I can read my opponents mind, I can fly at near the speed of light, I stand 12 feet tall... this list goes on and on.
But this last guy Ted, he is one level above me and I just can't seem to win. It has been 4 years we have fought on this desolate wasteland. We can both output enough destruction that equates to the power of 1000 suns, but we also absorb that same amount.
He refuses to accept my truce. Right now he is on the other side of the Earth taking a rest.
I am lonely. | |
[WP] It suddenly becomes possible to gain XP and level up in the real world, but you can only do so by getting kills. | No one really understood how it happened, but the leading theory was that a new sort of virus, One that interfaced perfectly between our cognitive implants and the actual biology of the brain had been unnaturally created, possibly as a weapon, and infected the population.
Social institutions declined slowly at first, then at an increasingly apocolyptic rate. Things held together for the first month or so, but after a lone bomber boosted himself to level 40 by killing hundreds in a single strike, and then evaded capture using his newfound super-abilities, shit hit the fan. Cities are now flaming warzones. Suburbia is a blood-soaked no man's land. Until there is a winner, no civilization will function again.
The funniest thing about the entire clusterfuck was the enormous advantage gamers held. We understood how to farm. My physically inept group of friends and I took the first opportunity we could to head to a slaughterhouse. Granted, a pig gives you less EXP than a person, but it's a hell of a lot easier and less dangerous to kill 5 pigs than 1 person. The results were astounding. Leveling up was natural selection on insanely powerful steroids. The virus mutated to each individual's strengths and weaknesses. My friend Alvin with diabetes and asthma, who turned out to be dynamite with a shotgun, immediately leveled out of both. By level 5 he looked more like The Terminator than the pasty kid who liked 40K I had known him to be. To watch someone level up is to witness instantaneous euphoric mutation. By the time Alvin died he could have been a space marine. I like to think that made him very happy, even as I ripped out his throat.
I was always a quiet kid. Before the game I had made it my business to avoid any trouble or negative attention. These days I can turn entirely invisible, and no, I don't have to "reveal myself" to attack. The last thing my victims see is a slight shimmer in the air if the sun shines brightly, or nothing at all if it is dark. My shape has become more lupine , my teeth are now fangs, and my knuckles hide retractable claws. My wounds heal faster than physically possible, and I can go for extended periods without eating, drinking, or sleeping. I spend my my days far out in the wilderness. Places man never really touched before the game, and have since been long forgotten. I hunt. I eat. I level once in a great while, but my life is lonely, and devoid of much of what you might call "living". In the end though, it is better than death. | 4 years had passed. That is how long it has been since I have been fighting this one mother fucker. It has been 4 years since the 3rd last human has died. And now all that is left is this ONE guy by the name of Ted.
I have killed billions. The powers I have attained are immense. My skin is 2 inches thick titanium alloy, I can move almost anything with only my mind, I have the strength of 2000 elephants, I can read my opponents mind, I can fly at near the speed of light, I stand 12 feet tall... this list goes on and on.
But this last guy Ted, he is one level above me and I just can't seem to win. It has been 4 years we have fought on this desolate wasteland. We can both output enough destruction that equates to the power of 1000 suns, but we also absorb that same amount.
He refuses to accept my truce. Right now he is on the other side of the Earth taking a rest.
I am lonely. | |
[WP] It suddenly becomes possible to gain XP and level up in the real world, but you can only do so by getting kills. | *Kill one man, and you are a murderer.*
I got my first set of kills fighting terrorists in a god forsaken hellhole. Most people feel that surge of power, when they take another life, but so few understand what they have gained. Of those who do, most put their skill points into strength, accuracy and the such, and are inevitably felled one by one on the battlefield. Fools.
*Kill millions of men, and you are a conqueror.*
I understand now, what drove the truly great and evil ones, the Hitlers, Stalins and Khans of history. Driving their forces forever forward into the destructive light, everyday a bit stronger. They lacked the technology that they needed, but they drove towards that same goal nonetheless. Charisma and intelligence were the true keys, allowing you to move onwards.
*Kill them all, and you are a god.*
Will it turn out that way? Only one way to find out.
"Mr. President. We are at DEFCON 1. Your orders, sir?" | 4 years had passed. That is how long it has been since I have been fighting this one mother fucker. It has been 4 years since the 3rd last human has died. And now all that is left is this ONE guy by the name of Ted.
I have killed billions. The powers I have attained are immense. My skin is 2 inches thick titanium alloy, I can move almost anything with only my mind, I have the strength of 2000 elephants, I can read my opponents mind, I can fly at near the speed of light, I stand 12 feet tall... this list goes on and on.
But this last guy Ted, he is one level above me and I just can't seem to win. It has been 4 years we have fought on this desolate wasteland. We can both output enough destruction that equates to the power of 1000 suns, but we also absorb that same amount.
He refuses to accept my truce. Right now he is on the other side of the Earth taking a rest.
I am lonely. | |
[WP] It suddenly becomes possible to gain XP and level up in the real world, but you can only do so by getting kills. | It was a harsh world.
My father was one of the first to level up. He killed my mother and my brother to gain power. He only left me alive to raise a daughter.
Laws didn't apply to anyone. It was every man for himself.
But the stronger you are, the more EXP you're worth. Rankings never stayed constant, beyond the top five people. My father was one of them.
To kill them would raise you to the top, but they were experts at killing. It was a death wish to try and take them out.
I could never kill. I was scared of even harming bugs. I was a disappointment to my father, and sometimes I wondered why he never killed me.
He never showed me much love, as expected from a serial killer. I was just a tool for him to use. I would throw out the dead bodies for him, or scout for potential victims.
He never once feared me.
I remember when the game was first revealed. A broadcast to every nation in the world.
People killed for the dream - to be level 100. The first person to reach level 100 could become a god.
It was too good to be true.
Every level presented upgrades - enhancing your strength, your agility, your stamina. The first few murderers suddenly became more powerful. It didn't take long for people to believe the game was real. Governments fell. Nothing was there to keep order, and cooperations began to exploit their workers even more.
Everyone was determined to become a god.
My father was close to becoming level 100, but the higher you got the more kills it took. Soon, competition between the highest ranking players got rough.
They started to take each other out.
My father started first, taking someone the same level as him out. It was a tough battle, and he nearly lost an eye. But he watched his level finally go up, to 95.
I wondered a lot at times, what would my father do if he became a god?
Would he become a world leader? Would he bring my mother and brother back?
Or would he continue this sick game?
I lost hope in everyone. It felt like a nightmare I couldn't escape. I had two options to end this dream.
To kill myself, or to kill others.
I thought about it for a while - I wanted to die. My family was dead and my father was a serial killer.
I could never kill people. Never. But after years of taking out literal corpses, and after years of witnessing this world, I realized something.
The only way to escape this hell is to create the world anew.
I don't know how I got the courage, but I did. My father slept peacefully, and never had his guard up with me. He knew I would never hurt him. I was too weak.
I gave him a quick death, slicing his throat. He woke up right when it sliced his throat, and he only had a few seconds to react. He looked at me with surprise, but I stabbed directly into his heart.
I watched a bar appear over my head, quickly bringing me to level 80. He was worth that much.
Blood was all over my clothes, and I cried for a bit. I couldn't believe I could have really killed him.
But this wasn't enough. I needed more. I needed to become a God.
I decided I would only target the highest ranking players - the worst offenders of this game. If I had to kill, I would kill the scum first.
I will become a God, and I will clean this world. I will stop this madness.
If I don't fall into madness first, that is.
| 4 years had passed. That is how long it has been since I have been fighting this one mother fucker. It has been 4 years since the 3rd last human has died. And now all that is left is this ONE guy by the name of Ted.
I have killed billions. The powers I have attained are immense. My skin is 2 inches thick titanium alloy, I can move almost anything with only my mind, I have the strength of 2000 elephants, I can read my opponents mind, I can fly at near the speed of light, I stand 12 feet tall... this list goes on and on.
But this last guy Ted, he is one level above me and I just can't seem to win. It has been 4 years we have fought on this desolate wasteland. We can both output enough destruction that equates to the power of 1000 suns, but we also absorb that same amount.
He refuses to accept my truce. Right now he is on the other side of the Earth taking a rest.
I am lonely. | |
[WP] It suddenly becomes possible to gain XP and level up in the real world, but you can only do so by getting kills. | ...The world changed. Some claimed a higher power had the system in place, others believed it was a plague, to me it was an opportunity. "Adam?...Are you pleased with this years yield?" John said. John was my most trusted advisory and Chief Operations Officer. As for me, my name is Adam West, founder and Chief Executive Officer of the worlds largest experience farm, 'Experiance'.
On March 15th the world found out it had the ability to gain experience with killing humans. Random killings were rampant at first and some thought chaos would consume the world. John and I saw opportunity in the chaos and began what most believe to be the most controversial but best alternative to end the chaos. Experiance began growing humans for slaughter to gain experience. In the early years people found out that without gaining experience you would slowly begin to die, the worlds population went from seven billion to a mere two billion that first year.
Experiance engineers came up with a way to grow humans at nearly five times the rate of a standard birth. Our first year in business we were able to meet the demand of the entire western hemispere. With over four thousand facilities we have become the worlds provider of cheap and easy experience. | She had returned from her latest deployment. The military had changed recently. Soldiers were recycled out and placed into non combat positions as a precaution. However the legends still stalked the battle fields, those who were out there before the terrible revelation was finally accepted.
She would be an alien, if pain staking effort was given to wipe away her identity and give a new one. Super human - all the comic book milestones. War was waged much differently now. The very act excites an immediate arms race ascribing near god like powers to anyone lucky enough, brutal enough or well trained enough to kill.
The new cold war raged quietly, as each nation assembled a pantheon of super soldiers.
She had returned home to her family. Her secret quiet and her mission to hide her awesome power. If she were to slip, he entire life would come crashing down - but what of her husband and 6 year old daughter? She did this for them. She did this keep them out of a world where murder awards obscene power.
Out there, on the battlefied, she was unstoppable. Simply wearing her mask and walking into the field of open artillery fire was enough to silence both sides. They've seen her regenerate limbs before their eyes, they've seen her crush men and armor with a psychic grasp, they've seen her inspire men into berzerker demons.
However here at home, she went grocer shopping and did laundry. Such as today, as dinner simmered and her daughter played outside.
"Sweetie, dinner's on the table! Come in!"
Ignoring her summons, the daughter continued to stomp around in the yard and play. How funny, she thought, that the world bends on my call but I cant get a six year old girl to come inside for mac'n'cheese.
"Now sweetie, this is the last call or else no dessert", she warned as she walked barefoot into the yard toward her daughter.
"No! No no no no!," and a sudden crash of twisting metal, a snap of thunder and lingering gnarled cacophony of destruction erupted as her daughter tantrumed in the yard.
"Oh god," what she had thought was a car accident was instead something much more terrible. Her daughter had spent the day - and untold others - squishing, burning, drowning and otherwise murdering a colony of ants.
Picking her daughter up, she thought of how to explain this to her superiors - they cant know of her daughter's power.
"Sweetie how about some ice cream instead?"
| |
[WP] It suddenly becomes possible to gain XP and level up in the real world, but you can only do so by getting kills. | You understood.
After weeks spent in your dorm room watching late night documentaries on Yang Xinhai, Gary Ridgway, and Ted Bundy, and burying your nose into books on the Zodiac killer, on Son of Sam, and BTK, you understood.
After seeing your roommates’ quiet, brooding stares from the corner of your eye every so often, hearing her drop her medical tools down on her desk and work on sharpening scalpels with a new attention draw to the blades that replaced her carefree attitude, you understood.
After noticing the quiet, muffled conversations she and her boyfriend had while you slept, and hearing the mentions of more and more bodies at their morgue followed by FBI agents, you understood.
After glancing over their shiny new phones and computers and reading emails with CLASSIFIED screaming all over them, no worry about security or about you, you understood.
After hearing one of them behind you while you showered, his hot breath steaming across the cold water, his hand sliding down your back to find your spine while you hid behind carefree singing of a song to make him think you couldn’t feel those fingertips, you understood.
After silencing him with an elbow jab and a switch of who held the knife, you understood.
After you stepped out covered in a mix of his blood and the water, and seeing the shocked look stain her prideful, snarky face, and her eyes glance down to his head in your hands with a beginner’s realization, you understood.
After you quieted her with a towel to keep the neighbors from hearing, and bashed her face into the sink until it broke and she stopped squirming, you understood.
You understood the smile on your face when you looked in the mirror and ran your bloody hands over your cheekbones.You understood the warm, trickling feeling inside of your stomach that traveled up your chest and hugged your heart in comfort. You understood the indulges you shared with your father that he never explained and just silently ordered you to follow by his example. You understood the glint in your eye and the evolutionary trait that you unlocked deep within your primal instincts.
Your peaceful bliss was interrupted by one of their shiny phones. You smiled and plucked it up with your fingers, and answered the RESTRICTED number with a satisfied coo that melted into your voice and words.
“I’m sorry, but the person you have called is now dead, thanks to Ripper.” | She had returned from her latest deployment. The military had changed recently. Soldiers were recycled out and placed into non combat positions as a precaution. However the legends still stalked the battle fields, those who were out there before the terrible revelation was finally accepted.
She would be an alien, if pain staking effort was given to wipe away her identity and give a new one. Super human - all the comic book milestones. War was waged much differently now. The very act excites an immediate arms race ascribing near god like powers to anyone lucky enough, brutal enough or well trained enough to kill.
The new cold war raged quietly, as each nation assembled a pantheon of super soldiers.
She had returned home to her family. Her secret quiet and her mission to hide her awesome power. If she were to slip, he entire life would come crashing down - but what of her husband and 6 year old daughter? She did this for them. She did this keep them out of a world where murder awards obscene power.
Out there, on the battlefied, she was unstoppable. Simply wearing her mask and walking into the field of open artillery fire was enough to silence both sides. They've seen her regenerate limbs before their eyes, they've seen her crush men and armor with a psychic grasp, they've seen her inspire men into berzerker demons.
However here at home, she went grocer shopping and did laundry. Such as today, as dinner simmered and her daughter played outside.
"Sweetie, dinner's on the table! Come in!"
Ignoring her summons, the daughter continued to stomp around in the yard and play. How funny, she thought, that the world bends on my call but I cant get a six year old girl to come inside for mac'n'cheese.
"Now sweetie, this is the last call or else no dessert", she warned as she walked barefoot into the yard toward her daughter.
"No! No no no no!," and a sudden crash of twisting metal, a snap of thunder and lingering gnarled cacophony of destruction erupted as her daughter tantrumed in the yard.
"Oh god," what she had thought was a car accident was instead something much more terrible. Her daughter had spent the day - and untold others - squishing, burning, drowning and otherwise murdering a colony of ants.
Picking her daughter up, she thought of how to explain this to her superiors - they cant know of her daughter's power.
"Sweetie how about some ice cream instead?"
| |
[WP] It suddenly becomes possible to gain XP and level up in the real world, but you can only do so by getting kills. | "Hold on, I've gotta do my pre-homework before we go," Keisha says. Your girlfriend walks into her bedroom, the glow of a shop light over a tank silhouetting her.
"Keisha, we're gonna be late," you complain.
Her voice is muffled by the wall between you. "I just want to make sure I do well on this test. I need at least 300 hp before I even begin studying."
You can see her hand poised above the huge ant farm, ready to smash down on top of millions of ants on a slice of apple.
"Keisha, stop! That's too intimate! It's like you're peeing in front of me!" you say, covering your eyes. She turns around, flashing a flirty smile.
"At least I use ants like a normal person. Close the door if you're so grossed out!"
You close the door and sink into the living room couch. A couple minutes go by, and Keisha leaves the bedroom.
"Have you ever known someone that didn't use ants?" you ask.
"No. I heard there's this really weird physics major who uses chipmunks and mice and stuff before tests so he can max out. With a knife! I don't think it's true though."
"I know some vegans who use vegetables. It's worth like, a quarter point for every plant. They seem happy though, so that's cool," you say. You both stand and begin walking out of the apartment and towards the car.
"That's just way too extreme for me. Why not just use invasive ants?" she asks. "They're just so convenient. Sure, you have to kill a lot of them, but their plentiful and easy to kill. I can't imagine ever using something you couldn't breed in your own home."
"Now that we have the HP Cap Laws, I don't really care what people use," you say. "It's just not fair that people would use cows and elephants and stuff in the past. Although, I've heard the president still dips into endangered species every once in a while."
"Oh, that old conspiracy theory? You know you can access his HP logs online, right? It's all made up," Keisha says. "Oh my god, did you hear about Ryan?"
This was shocking. Ryan is a close friend of yours, but you haven't heard from him in a couple days.
"I meant to tell you right when you came over, but it slipped my mind!" Keisha explains.
"What happened?"
"He was caught killing twice as many ants as his allowance trying to double major without permission. Apparently he didn't want to choose between biology and chemistry by the end of sophomore year, but he missed the deadline to declare. So he forged the papers to each department, used a shit ton of ants, maxed out on the categories he needed to, and aced the tests."
"Fuck... fuck, that's so bad. Was he expelled?" you ask.
"It's still under investigation, but the police got in on it too. No one has really talked to him since it all went down. He got a penalty of -5 levels in each category though."
"That's terrible. Let's try go visit him!"
--------
Couldn't think how to wrap this up shortly, but here are ideas that could make this a much longer story:
-Serial killers get really powerful really quickly, which means policemen/military have to be maxed out completely in every level in order to deal with someone that gets out of control. Which is good/ absolutely terrible depending on the situation.
-People in power get to attain more XP secretly, meaning they are stronger and smarter than everyone, making citizens easy to oppress and suppress.
-No one can truly obtain their potential without very carefully selecting what category they want to spend their XP in. This means people are either experts in only one field, or people are jacks of all trades but best at none, depending on what kind of gamer they would be. | She had returned from her latest deployment. The military had changed recently. Soldiers were recycled out and placed into non combat positions as a precaution. However the legends still stalked the battle fields, those who were out there before the terrible revelation was finally accepted.
She would be an alien, if pain staking effort was given to wipe away her identity and give a new one. Super human - all the comic book milestones. War was waged much differently now. The very act excites an immediate arms race ascribing near god like powers to anyone lucky enough, brutal enough or well trained enough to kill.
The new cold war raged quietly, as each nation assembled a pantheon of super soldiers.
She had returned home to her family. Her secret quiet and her mission to hide her awesome power. If she were to slip, he entire life would come crashing down - but what of her husband and 6 year old daughter? She did this for them. She did this keep them out of a world where murder awards obscene power.
Out there, on the battlefied, she was unstoppable. Simply wearing her mask and walking into the field of open artillery fire was enough to silence both sides. They've seen her regenerate limbs before their eyes, they've seen her crush men and armor with a psychic grasp, they've seen her inspire men into berzerker demons.
However here at home, she went grocer shopping and did laundry. Such as today, as dinner simmered and her daughter played outside.
"Sweetie, dinner's on the table! Come in!"
Ignoring her summons, the daughter continued to stomp around in the yard and play. How funny, she thought, that the world bends on my call but I cant get a six year old girl to come inside for mac'n'cheese.
"Now sweetie, this is the last call or else no dessert", she warned as she walked barefoot into the yard toward her daughter.
"No! No no no no!," and a sudden crash of twisting metal, a snap of thunder and lingering gnarled cacophony of destruction erupted as her daughter tantrumed in the yard.
"Oh god," what she had thought was a car accident was instead something much more terrible. Her daughter had spent the day - and untold others - squishing, burning, drowning and otherwise murdering a colony of ants.
Picking her daughter up, she thought of how to explain this to her superiors - they cant know of her daughter's power.
"Sweetie how about some ice cream instead?"
| |
[WP] It suddenly becomes possible to gain XP and level up in the real world, but you can only do so by getting kills. | The sound of tires screeching came from above. I looked up to see a convertible shoot off the overpass. It sailed overhead and into the ditch of the road below. Fumbling with my cell as I rushed from the sidewalk across the street when I was hit by a blast of heat as the car exploded. Standing in the median on the phone "There's just been an accident by the overpass outside of town. The car broke through the railing and exploded..." I hear the sound of banging on metal from the wreckage. "Oh god, they're still alive I hear movement inside there, please send someone quickly." A loud bang, followed by another that causes the half crumpled car door to fly open. A man with a soot stained long white long coat and a hair net crawls out the door of the upside down car. He throws his smouldering hair net from his head and idly picks a bit of melted dashboard plastic off of his hands, completely unconcerned with the inferno raging a few feet away. Baffled and ignoring the 911 operator on the phone I stammer "Are you OK?"
"Yeah, just fine. Shame about the car though." He says, walking closer so he doesn't have to shout over the sound of roaring flames, completely ignoring the vehicle changing lanes to avoid his burning car.
"How did you survive that? You aren't even hurt!"
"Its fine. I work at the chicken factory down the road. I'm level 220. 1 XP each really adds up." Another truck slowing down and changing lanes to avoid the smokey wreckage. "I better get going, thanks for coming to help." He nimbly jumps into the back of the moving pickup and waves goodbye as the oblivious driver passes the accident and starts to pick up speed again. | She had returned from her latest deployment. The military had changed recently. Soldiers were recycled out and placed into non combat positions as a precaution. However the legends still stalked the battle fields, those who were out there before the terrible revelation was finally accepted.
She would be an alien, if pain staking effort was given to wipe away her identity and give a new one. Super human - all the comic book milestones. War was waged much differently now. The very act excites an immediate arms race ascribing near god like powers to anyone lucky enough, brutal enough or well trained enough to kill.
The new cold war raged quietly, as each nation assembled a pantheon of super soldiers.
She had returned home to her family. Her secret quiet and her mission to hide her awesome power. If she were to slip, he entire life would come crashing down - but what of her husband and 6 year old daughter? She did this for them. She did this keep them out of a world where murder awards obscene power.
Out there, on the battlefied, she was unstoppable. Simply wearing her mask and walking into the field of open artillery fire was enough to silence both sides. They've seen her regenerate limbs before their eyes, they've seen her crush men and armor with a psychic grasp, they've seen her inspire men into berzerker demons.
However here at home, she went grocer shopping and did laundry. Such as today, as dinner simmered and her daughter played outside.
"Sweetie, dinner's on the table! Come in!"
Ignoring her summons, the daughter continued to stomp around in the yard and play. How funny, she thought, that the world bends on my call but I cant get a six year old girl to come inside for mac'n'cheese.
"Now sweetie, this is the last call or else no dessert", she warned as she walked barefoot into the yard toward her daughter.
"No! No no no no!," and a sudden crash of twisting metal, a snap of thunder and lingering gnarled cacophony of destruction erupted as her daughter tantrumed in the yard.
"Oh god," what she had thought was a car accident was instead something much more terrible. Her daughter had spent the day - and untold others - squishing, burning, drowning and otherwise murdering a colony of ants.
Picking her daughter up, she thought of how to explain this to her superiors - they cant know of her daughter's power.
"Sweetie how about some ice cream instead?"
|
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