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[WP] When you were a child, a mysterious voice whispered "follow the woman in the red dress with the gold polka dots". All your life, you never saw her. Now, lying in the hospital, 98 years old, you see a woman in a red dress and gold polka dots walk past your room. | This was it, the final chapter. I couldn’t hold the pen anymore, for no longer was it my turn to. I’d lived a life I’d wanted, and my wife had too bless her soul, she left first with our hands holding on for her dear life. She wasn’t ever ready to go, she didn’t comprehend what the repercussions might be. It took her a while to come to the comfort of letting go, but from the smile on her face I knew she was going to do just fine. And much like her then, I knew I now, with my family around me ready to say goodbye, one more time, to dad, grandpa, and even great grandpa bless me.
I smiled, no control over that. I knew it had been fulfilling what I’d done here. And just as my line began to fade..... I knew it couldn’t be over yet. Something pulled me to sit up again. Someone passed by, a dress I remember only stories about... in childhood, while in the woods, a delightfully giddy voice.... it led me then like it would lead me now, to a woman in a polka dotted dress, holding a vase, tears down her eyes. I reached out my hand... I called to her, but I couldn’t move. Nothing would’ve compelled me to stand, not in my state. One month bound to a bed at my age doesn’t make for a strong foundation. So instead, my soul stood. Led by a force I couldn’t control, it followed down the hall. My physicality falling comfortably back on the bed, and my ethereal form going down the hall. For I couldn’t see where she had gone, my spirit went where it felt most compelled, I was simply on the ride.
Tracing every hall, peering in every room, my soul searched for the woman. And suddenly, one more corner through into the icu, there she stood. Her two children in the incubators struggling like my physical form now. In my soul I could sense that one would not make it, for I could feel it join in my flight. But the other, the other I would whisper to the same message I’d heard before. I could not stop myself from attaching to it’s spirit, to give it a message it would not soon forget. One it would hear I would imagine more than once, “You do not know him yet, but one day, you will find the man in the Orange and Green Striped Polo Tee. Follow him when you can, he will show you positivity.” And then my ethereal form faded one more time, and somewhere, down the hall, I could hear sobs of my leaving. But I knew it was alright, the woman showed me so. | Everything fell out of focus. The beeping on the monitor sounded very far away. I got up out of bed slowly, feeling much lighter than before. The floor was cold beneath my feet. I pulled the tape off my arm and removed the IV. It didn't matter anyway. I knew I was on borrowed time. I had lived a good life. It just couldn't end without knowing.
I followed her down the hallway. She was very graceful. I felt a strong yearning to see her face, but she didn't turn around. I followed her through several corridors to a wide-open lobby. I was distracted by a room in the far corner. It seemed to glow with a strange light. It looked warm and welcoming.
The hall the woman turned down was dingier, ordinary with fluorescent hospital lighting.
I didn't want to turn away from the room but the need to follow her was so strong.
At the end of the hall she turned into another room. An old woman was laying in the bed there. She felt familiar to me. She wore a gold locket. It looked odd and ornate against her hospital gown. The woman in the red dress whispered something to her and took her hand. She pulled up a chair and sat down. She wiped her eyes and cleared her throat. "Mom," she said. "I'm here." The old woman didn't open her eyes.
I backed out of the room quietly, hoping she wouldn't see me. I was dizzy and so tired. I felt like a fool. All of these years wondering, and it was just a coincidence. Just a woman trying to spend a few last moments with her dying mother. Who was I? What would I accomplish by denying my family the same goodbye, here wandering the halls without any thought to whether I had the strength to make it back?
I didn't.
I went into the nearest room to rest. It looked like a delivery ward, but it was empty. Surely the doctors and nurses wouldn't mind if I were to just lie down for a bit here.
I drifted off to sleep.
I awoke to sounds of shouting as they wheeled in a woman in labor. I closed the curtain so I wouldn't be in the way. I was still so very tired. Their voices faded and I closed my eyes.
The birth was a success. The nurse cleaned up the baby and handed her to her mother. "Congratulations!" she said. "It's a girl!"
The baby looked up with wide eyes, following the patterns of light that glinted off of her mother's locket. The sunlight reflected off of the bright red curtains in spots of gold. | |
[WP] When you were a child, a mysterious voice whispered "follow the woman in the red dress with the gold polka dots". All your life, you never saw her. Now, lying in the hospital, 98 years old, you see a woman in a red dress and gold polka dots walk past your room. | There she was. I'd given up hope. Now, with scarcely enough energy to breathe, I saw her. With most of my remaining strength, I got out of bed and leaned on my walker. With IV in tow, I followed her, and she went straight to the elevator bank.
I made it into the same car as her as the door closed and let her choose the floor. She pressed 4, and I nodded. *Heading the same way," I said.
"I thought so," she replied.
The door opened to the maternity ward. Nurses and doctors hustled about. The faint cries of newborns were coming out of some of the rooms.
I followed her as best I could to a heavy door marked "Authorized Personnel Only." She used a fingerprint scanner to open the door, then held it for me.
Two doctors waited for me on the other side, smiling pleasantly.
"We've been expecting you Mr. Stoneman," one said.
"We haven't seen you in some time."
"It's been , what, ninety-eight years?" the other added.
They brought me to a bed, and I collapsed on it. The exertion of the past 10 minutes had used what little energy I had left. Slowly, I began to doze into the most peaceful slumber of my life. A light appeared, warm and inviting. I knew what it was for, and I went to it.
It was deliciously relaxing; I felt warm, safe and loved. The light got brighter and brighter, and I felt like I was being squeezed. I heard shrieks of pain and shouts of encouragement. Then I felt like I had been expelled from something, and I was cold, even though the light was brighter. Someone smacked my bottom and I cried harder than I did when my Dorothy passed 10 years ago.
I heard voices, everyone seemed happy. I was horribly confused and a little frightened.
Then the person who slapped me held me up and said, "Congratulations, Mrs. Stoneman, here is your healthy baby boy." | Everything fell out of focus. The beeping on the monitor sounded very far away. I got up out of bed slowly, feeling much lighter than before. The floor was cold beneath my feet. I pulled the tape off my arm and removed the IV. It didn't matter anyway. I knew I was on borrowed time. I had lived a good life. It just couldn't end without knowing.
I followed her down the hallway. She was very graceful. I felt a strong yearning to see her face, but she didn't turn around. I followed her through several corridors to a wide-open lobby. I was distracted by a room in the far corner. It seemed to glow with a strange light. It looked warm and welcoming.
The hall the woman turned down was dingier, ordinary with fluorescent hospital lighting.
I didn't want to turn away from the room but the need to follow her was so strong.
At the end of the hall she turned into another room. An old woman was laying in the bed there. She felt familiar to me. She wore a gold locket. It looked odd and ornate against her hospital gown. The woman in the red dress whispered something to her and took her hand. She pulled up a chair and sat down. She wiped her eyes and cleared her throat. "Mom," she said. "I'm here." The old woman didn't open her eyes.
I backed out of the room quietly, hoping she wouldn't see me. I was dizzy and so tired. I felt like a fool. All of these years wondering, and it was just a coincidence. Just a woman trying to spend a few last moments with her dying mother. Who was I? What would I accomplish by denying my family the same goodbye, here wandering the halls without any thought to whether I had the strength to make it back?
I didn't.
I went into the nearest room to rest. It looked like a delivery ward, but it was empty. Surely the doctors and nurses wouldn't mind if I were to just lie down for a bit here.
I drifted off to sleep.
I awoke to sounds of shouting as they wheeled in a woman in labor. I closed the curtain so I wouldn't be in the way. I was still so very tired. Their voices faded and I closed my eyes.
The birth was a success. The nurse cleaned up the baby and handed her to her mother. "Congratulations!" she said. "It's a girl!"
The baby looked up with wide eyes, following the patterns of light that glinted off of her mother's locket. The sunlight reflected off of the bright red curtains in spots of gold. | |
[WP] When you were a child, a mysterious voice whispered "follow the woman in the red dress with the gold polka dots". All your life, you never saw her. Now, lying in the hospital, 98 years old, you see a woman in a red dress and gold polka dots walk past your room. | If you ever find yourself with the greivous privilege of being in touching distance of a century, every day will begin to feel like a lifetime. Being here, away from the world, slowly losing grasp on all of my precious memories... It isn't how I imagined the end of my life would be, to be honest.
But in the deepest confines of this aged mind of mine, is a reverie. A shroud of fiery red, like a kiss from the setting sun, flecked with spots of gold. I do not know if I had this dream when I was 7, or 30, or even if it were yesterday. But I hold on to it for dear life. As if this is some unfulfilled prophecy I must lie awake, stay alive for. After 98 long years, today, I can swear on the remaining fragments of my dwindling sanity that I saw my dream flash before my eyes.
I try to haul my failing body off the bed. My bones creak under the weight and a groan escapes me. I close my eyes and try to summon the last reserve of strength I can muster.
"Please don't do that."
Her smile warms me like a hearth on a winter night. She has emerald green eyes that I recognize from what seems like a different life.
"Zara?" I mumble, hardly believing my own voice. I do not even realize when the tears fill my eyes. The world is a blur, her features are a haze. But I still recognize it all, as if it I had seen it all before. "Zara," I say again, reaching out for her face. "You... You came..."
A passing nurse freezes in her tracks and gives me a worried stare. I do not blame her. When has anyone seen a 98-year-old bawl like a child?
"Baba, I wanted to come... every second of every day," she says, bursting into tears too. "I'm sorry it took me all this time... I just never could find the courage I–"
"Zara, I am the coward here... I was the one parted ways with your mother when she told me she was carrying our child. I swear to you, I replay that scene in my head as if it were yesterday. I can still hear that little voice in my mind say that I should have followed the woman in the red dress, no matter where it would take me. But I was the coward, Zara... I was the coward...."
"Baba... Ma told me everything. For the first forty years of my life I nothing but bitter loathing for you. I turned my heart black with the hate I had for a person I had never seen, and never known. I never asked about you because I was too afraid of what I would hear. Not until Ma was on her death bed did I find gather enough strength to ask... Hate is a seed baba, and I nourished it for so long that it became a tree. By the time I realized how terrifying it was, it had spread its tall, dark arms over me. I have spent decades hacking it down, so I could walk out from under its shadow and find my way to you."
I try to say something, but my voice cracks horribly with the strain. "I have waited everyday for you. For forty years, your mother and I exchanged letters. Never falling in love with anyone else, never forgetting all we made together. But I just couldn't say I wanted her back, not after what I had done to her. So I waited, and waited... but she never let me in."
"How could she let in what she never let out, Baba? You were always in her heart. She prayed for you every night. She sometimes said your name in her sleep. A part of my father was always there in our house. It took me all these years to realize I wanted to see the rest of him too. It was just... Ma said something about your dementia.. and about how your letters stopped for weeks at a stretch, and sometimes how you would write the same letter four weeks in a row. I never knew if you'd recognize me if I came to you. That kept me from walking to you, even when I knew exactly where you were..."
I reach out to the bedside table and clasp the only possession I've had in the past five years. "My mind is a strange place, Zara. It is a muddled, confused, broken place. But this..." I pass the picture to her. "I look at this picture every hour. I whisper to my mind, never forget, never forget. She told me you had my eyes, and my hair so I'd never recognize you... But she still told me that if you ever came to this hospital, I would know. This dress looks as beautiful on you as it did on her, Zara. She knew all along that this dress would put all the pieces in my head back together. You look just like her, Zara. It is like falling in love all over again."
"Zara was my mother's name, Baba. My name is Afsah. I am here now, Baba. I am here."
-----------
r/whiteshadowthebook | Everything fell out of focus. The beeping on the monitor sounded very far away. I got up out of bed slowly, feeling much lighter than before. The floor was cold beneath my feet. I pulled the tape off my arm and removed the IV. It didn't matter anyway. I knew I was on borrowed time. I had lived a good life. It just couldn't end without knowing.
I followed her down the hallway. She was very graceful. I felt a strong yearning to see her face, but she didn't turn around. I followed her through several corridors to a wide-open lobby. I was distracted by a room in the far corner. It seemed to glow with a strange light. It looked warm and welcoming.
The hall the woman turned down was dingier, ordinary with fluorescent hospital lighting.
I didn't want to turn away from the room but the need to follow her was so strong.
At the end of the hall she turned into another room. An old woman was laying in the bed there. She felt familiar to me. She wore a gold locket. It looked odd and ornate against her hospital gown. The woman in the red dress whispered something to her and took her hand. She pulled up a chair and sat down. She wiped her eyes and cleared her throat. "Mom," she said. "I'm here." The old woman didn't open her eyes.
I backed out of the room quietly, hoping she wouldn't see me. I was dizzy and so tired. I felt like a fool. All of these years wondering, and it was just a coincidence. Just a woman trying to spend a few last moments with her dying mother. Who was I? What would I accomplish by denying my family the same goodbye, here wandering the halls without any thought to whether I had the strength to make it back?
I didn't.
I went into the nearest room to rest. It looked like a delivery ward, but it was empty. Surely the doctors and nurses wouldn't mind if I were to just lie down for a bit here.
I drifted off to sleep.
I awoke to sounds of shouting as they wheeled in a woman in labor. I closed the curtain so I wouldn't be in the way. I was still so very tired. Their voices faded and I closed my eyes.
The birth was a success. The nurse cleaned up the baby and handed her to her mother. "Congratulations!" she said. "It's a girl!"
The baby looked up with wide eyes, following the patterns of light that glinted off of her mother's locket. The sunlight reflected off of the bright red curtains in spots of gold. | |
[WP] When you were a child, a mysterious voice whispered "follow the woman in the red dress with the gold polka dots". All your life, you never saw her. Now, lying in the hospital, 98 years old, you see a woman in a red dress and gold polka dots walk past your room. | The last few months have been agonizing, and I know that I don’t have much time left. About four years ago, I developed a cough that wouldn’t go away. I ignored it as men do, but finally, Nelly, my grandaughter, convinced me to go to my doctor. And Dr. Shah was concerned, so the testing started.
Initially, the cat scan showed a small nodule that, as it was, turned out to be cancer. Since then, my body has been ravaged first by radiation treatment, then surgery, and finally chemotherapy. The oncologist told me I was not a good candidate for any of these things, and my prognosis was poor. At first, my sweet oncologist told me I had maybe six months to live, then later, a year, and then she finally stopped giving me time frames and only provided gentle encouragement.
I’m sure part of my survival is I kept setting goals. See Kyle graduate with his PhD. Give a speech at Deliah’s wedding. Hold my first great-great-grandbaby. I’ve lived a good life, and these last four years of borrowed time has made me a more generous, more determined, and more peaceful in mind and soul. The body, however, has been a nightmare.
Every time I move in this uncomfortable bed, the smell of stale piss whiffs up from under the sheets because I can no longer maneuver the urinal quick enough to catch it all. I’m trying to keep my pride, but it’s getting harder by the day. I’m fading, and my bones now host cancer, that slipped from that one nodule to seed itself all over my body. I’m in so much pain I feel raw like my nerves are scraping against the blankets. And when I’m not shifting trying to escape this sensation, I’m watching the clock for my next dose of pain meds.
My only escape is the family that comes to see me. They all wear their funeral faces and talk of the future with the tears in their eyes. They know I won’t be there, their hope is spread thin by the day. They know what, what I have yet to accept.
I am going to die. There is no more home for me. This was the last try, a chemotherapy treatment that was not chemotherapy. I think they called it biotherapy, the details are kind of hard to follow these days. But, I’m willing to try anything. And well, now there is nothing left.
The nurse comes and gives me my pain meds, and I feel warm and dizzy, and the pain fades, and I sleep for a bit. This is my mercy in these dark hours. I fall asleep to little Macy’s voice singing me the songs she’s learning in kindergarten, an alphabet with a few misplaced letters, and a song that is a story about a mouse and a cookie.
When I wake up again, the blinds are drawn, and it is dark. I look at the clock, and I wonder if the nurse medicated while I was sleeping. I still feel warm, and the pain feels like a distant point. I need to pee, and my urinal is on the bedside table. I don’t smell like piss, and I don’t want to incase Robert comes to visit after work like he has the last two nights, and I decided to try and reach it, and I was able to with ease - thinking that they must have switched my medication, and I could cry with relief. The absence of misery is a beautiful thing. I forget about my business, looking out the door to the bright light of the hall, then I see her.
She has beautiful dark skin, and natural hair pulled into a braided bun at the base of her neck. Her skin is a dark cocoa color; the harsh fluorescent lights seem to illuminate off of her bare shoulders. She moved with confidence, the pooled skirt on dress seeming to float just above her knees. She wears what I’ve waited for my entire life, a red dress with gold polka dots.
I know I shouldn’t have tried to get up, but I did - and it took me a moment to realize for the first time in a week I was standing on both of my feet. “Ma’am,” I say, moving quickly to my doorway and then out into the long white hall closing the space between us. She pauses and holds out her hand for me, her eyes spark like ebony, as I wrap my gnarled, pale hand into her robust and smooth grip. Her skin is warm and soft, it reminded me of the quilt my grandmother made me, she smelled like my son the first time I held him, and her grip was the hard lessons my first boss taught me when I was in the folly of my youth.
I am absolutely enchanted, all the pain gone.
I’ve never met her, but I’ve never forgotten her. I’ve always remembered the voice that whispered to me when, after my family pulled me out of the lake, half-dead at the age of four. As I coughed up lungs full of water, over my mother’s sobbing, the sound of fear in my older brother’s voice, and the brisk slaps on my back from my father, I remember the clam of her dark lips pressed to into my ear. I could hear the smile in her voice as she spoke, “It’s not time, I wear the sky today. Follow me with a red dress with the gold polka dots.”
I squeeze her hand, and she squeezes mine back, with her long fingers graceful, nails crescent moons, and we start to walk together down the long hall. As we move, she seems to get taller, but no less beautiful. No less pleasant, never once losing her smile, as we go further, my legs are toddling to keep up with her until finally, I feel myself land on my bottom unable to keep the wobble out of my gait.
I feel a moment of fear. A moment of emotional pain that she would leave me. I extend my pale arms to her, the skin smooth, and my hands pudgy. She stops and picks me up, and I wrap my arms around her neck and breath her in. She smells like my childhood home on cold winter mornings, like the locker room after my high school won the football championship, and like my wife, before I was widowed.
I’m aware that I am naked, but now, there is no shame. We move down a set of stairs, and I’m warm and comfortable, but I feel even smaller in her grasp, as she moves to coddle me in her arms, and all I can make out is her face and her lips and that smile. I reach for her, and my hands are so tiny, and her face is so blurry and perfect, and I try to tell her to thank you, but all that comes out is a coo.
Time means nothing.
We stop moving, and she is rocking me before she presses a kiss to my forehead and lifts me to the light.
There is a moment of pain, and I’m screaming at the shock of cold air into my lungs as I take the first breath and then I’m laid on my mother’s chest. I forget everything, except for the smell of mommy’s skin.
[edit: Fixed typos, and posted correctly.] | Everything fell out of focus. The beeping on the monitor sounded very far away. I got up out of bed slowly, feeling much lighter than before. The floor was cold beneath my feet. I pulled the tape off my arm and removed the IV. It didn't matter anyway. I knew I was on borrowed time. I had lived a good life. It just couldn't end without knowing.
I followed her down the hallway. She was very graceful. I felt a strong yearning to see her face, but she didn't turn around. I followed her through several corridors to a wide-open lobby. I was distracted by a room in the far corner. It seemed to glow with a strange light. It looked warm and welcoming.
The hall the woman turned down was dingier, ordinary with fluorescent hospital lighting.
I didn't want to turn away from the room but the need to follow her was so strong.
At the end of the hall she turned into another room. An old woman was laying in the bed there. She felt familiar to me. She wore a gold locket. It looked odd and ornate against her hospital gown. The woman in the red dress whispered something to her and took her hand. She pulled up a chair and sat down. She wiped her eyes and cleared her throat. "Mom," she said. "I'm here." The old woman didn't open her eyes.
I backed out of the room quietly, hoping she wouldn't see me. I was dizzy and so tired. I felt like a fool. All of these years wondering, and it was just a coincidence. Just a woman trying to spend a few last moments with her dying mother. Who was I? What would I accomplish by denying my family the same goodbye, here wandering the halls without any thought to whether I had the strength to make it back?
I didn't.
I went into the nearest room to rest. It looked like a delivery ward, but it was empty. Surely the doctors and nurses wouldn't mind if I were to just lie down for a bit here.
I drifted off to sleep.
I awoke to sounds of shouting as they wheeled in a woman in labor. I closed the curtain so I wouldn't be in the way. I was still so very tired. Their voices faded and I closed my eyes.
The birth was a success. The nurse cleaned up the baby and handed her to her mother. "Congratulations!" she said. "It's a girl!"
The baby looked up with wide eyes, following the patterns of light that glinted off of her mother's locket. The sunlight reflected off of the bright red curtains in spots of gold. | |
[WP] When you were a child, a mysterious voice whispered "follow the woman in the red dress with the gold polka dots". All your life, you never saw her. Now, lying in the hospital, 98 years old, you see a woman in a red dress and gold polka dots walk past your room. | This was it, the final chapter. I couldn’t hold the pen anymore, for no longer was it my turn to. I’d lived a life I’d wanted, and my wife had too bless her soul, she left first with our hands holding on for her dear life. She wasn’t ever ready to go, she didn’t comprehend what the repercussions might be. It took her a while to come to the comfort of letting go, but from the smile on her face I knew she was going to do just fine. And much like her then, I knew I now, with my family around me ready to say goodbye, one more time, to dad, grandpa, and even great grandpa bless me.
I smiled, no control over that. I knew it had been fulfilling what I’d done here. And just as my line began to fade..... I knew it couldn’t be over yet. Something pulled me to sit up again. Someone passed by, a dress I remember only stories about... in childhood, while in the woods, a delightfully giddy voice.... it led me then like it would lead me now, to a woman in a polka dotted dress, holding a vase, tears down her eyes. I reached out my hand... I called to her, but I couldn’t move. Nothing would’ve compelled me to stand, not in my state. One month bound to a bed at my age doesn’t make for a strong foundation. So instead, my soul stood. Led by a force I couldn’t control, it followed down the hall. My physicality falling comfortably back on the bed, and my ethereal form going down the hall. For I couldn’t see where she had gone, my spirit went where it felt most compelled, I was simply on the ride.
Tracing every hall, peering in every room, my soul searched for the woman. And suddenly, one more corner through into the icu, there she stood. Her two children in the incubators struggling like my physical form now. In my soul I could sense that one would not make it, for I could feel it join in my flight. But the other, the other I would whisper to the same message I’d heard before. I could not stop myself from attaching to it’s spirit, to give it a message it would not soon forget. One it would hear I would imagine more than once, “You do not know him yet, but one day, you will find the man in the Orange and Green Striped Polo Tee. Follow him when you can, he will show you positivity.” And then my ethereal form faded one more time, and somewhere, down the hall, I could hear sobs of my leaving. But I knew it was alright, the woman showed me so. | 98 years without a hint of the red dress the voice spoke of.
9.8 y.e.a.r.s
Ever since I could remember, this nagging voice occasionally came into my life and whispered the same thing.
"Follow the women..."
At first I was curious. Who was this women? Why was there a voice that spoke to me? My parents dismissed it as hallucinations, but the older I grew the more convinced I was that it wasn't. It felt so real, more real than anything else in the world.
Then I was annoyed. 30, 40, 50 years pass and yet nothing has ever happened. Not a single hint of the "prophecy" coming true. Every free moment of my life I spend wondering if those voices were real, and as time passes my doubt grows bigger and bigger.
Maybe I was hallucinating after all.
Now I'm furious. Furious at the 98 years of wondering. Furious at the 98 years wasted, thinking there was a grander scheme of things for my mundane life. How conceited I was to think that my life was going to be for some higher purpose? Even as I lie on my hospital bed with my days numbered, I can't help but wonder if that lady would come by one day and take me away..
98 days and 364 days.
Tomorrow was supposed to my 99th birthday. As I lay on my bed and wait for the end of my life, a bright red dress caught my attention from the corner of my eye.
A crimson, so vivid you could see the flames emanating from the glorious cloth. Lined with golden polka dots that looked fitting for the grandest of Kings of the olden days. The lady, oh that lady! So stunningly gorgeous yet upright. So confident, yet she had a humble demeanor. She gave my room a brief look before walking away.
That's it! That's definitely it! I mustered all my strength and sat up from my seat. With all the energy pent up in me, I grabbed my walking cane and lumbered laboriously at her. I followed her all the way up to the roof top, where she was waiting patiently for me.
"Have you had a good life, my child?" She quizzed
"I.. I reckon so. I've.. I've lived a long life. Who are you?" I stammered, partly realizing how this moment was the culmination of my entire life's existence, or just simply at the regal beauty this lady exuded.
"I, my darling, am known as the Tascha the Phoenix. Are you ready to reset? We're counting on you in your next life"
*Was about to sleep but saw this. Hopefully it's not horrendous LOL | |
[WP] When you were a child, a mysterious voice whispered "follow the woman in the red dress with the gold polka dots". All your life, you never saw her. Now, lying in the hospital, 98 years old, you see a woman in a red dress and gold polka dots walk past your room. | There she was. I'd given up hope. Now, with scarcely enough energy to breathe, I saw her. With most of my remaining strength, I got out of bed and leaned on my walker. With IV in tow, I followed her, and she went straight to the elevator bank.
I made it into the same car as her as the door closed and let her choose the floor. She pressed 4, and I nodded. *Heading the same way," I said.
"I thought so," she replied.
The door opened to the maternity ward. Nurses and doctors hustled about. The faint cries of newborns were coming out of some of the rooms.
I followed her as best I could to a heavy door marked "Authorized Personnel Only." She used a fingerprint scanner to open the door, then held it for me.
Two doctors waited for me on the other side, smiling pleasantly.
"We've been expecting you Mr. Stoneman," one said.
"We haven't seen you in some time."
"It's been , what, ninety-eight years?" the other added.
They brought me to a bed, and I collapsed on it. The exertion of the past 10 minutes had used what little energy I had left. Slowly, I began to doze into the most peaceful slumber of my life. A light appeared, warm and inviting. I knew what it was for, and I went to it.
It was deliciously relaxing; I felt warm, safe and loved. The light got brighter and brighter, and I felt like I was being squeezed. I heard shrieks of pain and shouts of encouragement. Then I felt like I had been expelled from something, and I was cold, even though the light was brighter. Someone smacked my bottom and I cried harder than I did when my Dorothy passed 10 years ago.
I heard voices, everyone seemed happy. I was horribly confused and a little frightened.
Then the person who slapped me held me up and said, "Congratulations, Mrs. Stoneman, here is your healthy baby boy." | 98 years without a hint of the red dress the voice spoke of.
9.8 y.e.a.r.s
Ever since I could remember, this nagging voice occasionally came into my life and whispered the same thing.
"Follow the women..."
At first I was curious. Who was this women? Why was there a voice that spoke to me? My parents dismissed it as hallucinations, but the older I grew the more convinced I was that it wasn't. It felt so real, more real than anything else in the world.
Then I was annoyed. 30, 40, 50 years pass and yet nothing has ever happened. Not a single hint of the "prophecy" coming true. Every free moment of my life I spend wondering if those voices were real, and as time passes my doubt grows bigger and bigger.
Maybe I was hallucinating after all.
Now I'm furious. Furious at the 98 years of wondering. Furious at the 98 years wasted, thinking there was a grander scheme of things for my mundane life. How conceited I was to think that my life was going to be for some higher purpose? Even as I lie on my hospital bed with my days numbered, I can't help but wonder if that lady would come by one day and take me away..
98 days and 364 days.
Tomorrow was supposed to my 99th birthday. As I lay on my bed and wait for the end of my life, a bright red dress caught my attention from the corner of my eye.
A crimson, so vivid you could see the flames emanating from the glorious cloth. Lined with golden polka dots that looked fitting for the grandest of Kings of the olden days. The lady, oh that lady! So stunningly gorgeous yet upright. So confident, yet she had a humble demeanor. She gave my room a brief look before walking away.
That's it! That's definitely it! I mustered all my strength and sat up from my seat. With all the energy pent up in me, I grabbed my walking cane and lumbered laboriously at her. I followed her all the way up to the roof top, where she was waiting patiently for me.
"Have you had a good life, my child?" She quizzed
"I.. I reckon so. I've.. I've lived a long life. Who are you?" I stammered, partly realizing how this moment was the culmination of my entire life's existence, or just simply at the regal beauty this lady exuded.
"I, my darling, am known as the Tascha the Phoenix. Are you ready to reset? We're counting on you in your next life"
*Was about to sleep but saw this. Hopefully it's not horrendous LOL | |
[WP] When you were a child, a mysterious voice whispered "follow the woman in the red dress with the gold polka dots". All your life, you never saw her. Now, lying in the hospital, 98 years old, you see a woman in a red dress and gold polka dots walk past your room. | If you ever find yourself with the greivous privilege of being in touching distance of a century, every day will begin to feel like a lifetime. Being here, away from the world, slowly losing grasp on all of my precious memories... It isn't how I imagined the end of my life would be, to be honest.
But in the deepest confines of this aged mind of mine, is a reverie. A shroud of fiery red, like a kiss from the setting sun, flecked with spots of gold. I do not know if I had this dream when I was 7, or 30, or even if it were yesterday. But I hold on to it for dear life. As if this is some unfulfilled prophecy I must lie awake, stay alive for. After 98 long years, today, I can swear on the remaining fragments of my dwindling sanity that I saw my dream flash before my eyes.
I try to haul my failing body off the bed. My bones creak under the weight and a groan escapes me. I close my eyes and try to summon the last reserve of strength I can muster.
"Please don't do that."
Her smile warms me like a hearth on a winter night. She has emerald green eyes that I recognize from what seems like a different life.
"Zara?" I mumble, hardly believing my own voice. I do not even realize when the tears fill my eyes. The world is a blur, her features are a haze. But I still recognize it all, as if it I had seen it all before. "Zara," I say again, reaching out for her face. "You... You came..."
A passing nurse freezes in her tracks and gives me a worried stare. I do not blame her. When has anyone seen a 98-year-old bawl like a child?
"Baba, I wanted to come... every second of every day," she says, bursting into tears too. "I'm sorry it took me all this time... I just never could find the courage I–"
"Zara, I am the coward here... I was the one parted ways with your mother when she told me she was carrying our child. I swear to you, I replay that scene in my head as if it were yesterday. I can still hear that little voice in my mind say that I should have followed the woman in the red dress, no matter where it would take me. But I was the coward, Zara... I was the coward...."
"Baba... Ma told me everything. For the first forty years of my life I nothing but bitter loathing for you. I turned my heart black with the hate I had for a person I had never seen, and never known. I never asked about you because I was too afraid of what I would hear. Not until Ma was on her death bed did I find gather enough strength to ask... Hate is a seed baba, and I nourished it for so long that it became a tree. By the time I realized how terrifying it was, it had spread its tall, dark arms over me. I have spent decades hacking it down, so I could walk out from under its shadow and find my way to you."
I try to say something, but my voice cracks horribly with the strain. "I have waited everyday for you. For forty years, your mother and I exchanged letters. Never falling in love with anyone else, never forgetting all we made together. But I just couldn't say I wanted her back, not after what I had done to her. So I waited, and waited... but she never let me in."
"How could she let in what she never let out, Baba? You were always in her heart. She prayed for you every night. She sometimes said your name in her sleep. A part of my father was always there in our house. It took me all these years to realize I wanted to see the rest of him too. It was just... Ma said something about your dementia.. and about how your letters stopped for weeks at a stretch, and sometimes how you would write the same letter four weeks in a row. I never knew if you'd recognize me if I came to you. That kept me from walking to you, even when I knew exactly where you were..."
I reach out to the bedside table and clasp the only possession I've had in the past five years. "My mind is a strange place, Zara. It is a muddled, confused, broken place. But this..." I pass the picture to her. "I look at this picture every hour. I whisper to my mind, never forget, never forget. She told me you had my eyes, and my hair so I'd never recognize you... But she still told me that if you ever came to this hospital, I would know. This dress looks as beautiful on you as it did on her, Zara. She knew all along that this dress would put all the pieces in my head back together. You look just like her, Zara. It is like falling in love all over again."
"Zara was my mother's name, Baba. My name is Afsah. I am here now, Baba. I am here."
-----------
r/whiteshadowthebook | 98 years without a hint of the red dress the voice spoke of.
9.8 y.e.a.r.s
Ever since I could remember, this nagging voice occasionally came into my life and whispered the same thing.
"Follow the women..."
At first I was curious. Who was this women? Why was there a voice that spoke to me? My parents dismissed it as hallucinations, but the older I grew the more convinced I was that it wasn't. It felt so real, more real than anything else in the world.
Then I was annoyed. 30, 40, 50 years pass and yet nothing has ever happened. Not a single hint of the "prophecy" coming true. Every free moment of my life I spend wondering if those voices were real, and as time passes my doubt grows bigger and bigger.
Maybe I was hallucinating after all.
Now I'm furious. Furious at the 98 years of wondering. Furious at the 98 years wasted, thinking there was a grander scheme of things for my mundane life. How conceited I was to think that my life was going to be for some higher purpose? Even as I lie on my hospital bed with my days numbered, I can't help but wonder if that lady would come by one day and take me away..
98 days and 364 days.
Tomorrow was supposed to my 99th birthday. As I lay on my bed and wait for the end of my life, a bright red dress caught my attention from the corner of my eye.
A crimson, so vivid you could see the flames emanating from the glorious cloth. Lined with golden polka dots that looked fitting for the grandest of Kings of the olden days. The lady, oh that lady! So stunningly gorgeous yet upright. So confident, yet she had a humble demeanor. She gave my room a brief look before walking away.
That's it! That's definitely it! I mustered all my strength and sat up from my seat. With all the energy pent up in me, I grabbed my walking cane and lumbered laboriously at her. I followed her all the way up to the roof top, where she was waiting patiently for me.
"Have you had a good life, my child?" She quizzed
"I.. I reckon so. I've.. I've lived a long life. Who are you?" I stammered, partly realizing how this moment was the culmination of my entire life's existence, or just simply at the regal beauty this lady exuded.
"I, my darling, am known as the Tascha the Phoenix. Are you ready to reset? We're counting on you in your next life"
*Was about to sleep but saw this. Hopefully it's not horrendous LOL | |
[WP] When you were a child, a mysterious voice whispered "follow the woman in the red dress with the gold polka dots". All your life, you never saw her. Now, lying in the hospital, 98 years old, you see a woman in a red dress and gold polka dots walk past your room. | The last few months have been agonizing, and I know that I don’t have much time left. About four years ago, I developed a cough that wouldn’t go away. I ignored it as men do, but finally, Nelly, my grandaughter, convinced me to go to my doctor. And Dr. Shah was concerned, so the testing started.
Initially, the cat scan showed a small nodule that, as it was, turned out to be cancer. Since then, my body has been ravaged first by radiation treatment, then surgery, and finally chemotherapy. The oncologist told me I was not a good candidate for any of these things, and my prognosis was poor. At first, my sweet oncologist told me I had maybe six months to live, then later, a year, and then she finally stopped giving me time frames and only provided gentle encouragement.
I’m sure part of my survival is I kept setting goals. See Kyle graduate with his PhD. Give a speech at Deliah’s wedding. Hold my first great-great-grandbaby. I’ve lived a good life, and these last four years of borrowed time has made me a more generous, more determined, and more peaceful in mind and soul. The body, however, has been a nightmare.
Every time I move in this uncomfortable bed, the smell of stale piss whiffs up from under the sheets because I can no longer maneuver the urinal quick enough to catch it all. I’m trying to keep my pride, but it’s getting harder by the day. I’m fading, and my bones now host cancer, that slipped from that one nodule to seed itself all over my body. I’m in so much pain I feel raw like my nerves are scraping against the blankets. And when I’m not shifting trying to escape this sensation, I’m watching the clock for my next dose of pain meds.
My only escape is the family that comes to see me. They all wear their funeral faces and talk of the future with the tears in their eyes. They know I won’t be there, their hope is spread thin by the day. They know what, what I have yet to accept.
I am going to die. There is no more home for me. This was the last try, a chemotherapy treatment that was not chemotherapy. I think they called it biotherapy, the details are kind of hard to follow these days. But, I’m willing to try anything. And well, now there is nothing left.
The nurse comes and gives me my pain meds, and I feel warm and dizzy, and the pain fades, and I sleep for a bit. This is my mercy in these dark hours. I fall asleep to little Macy’s voice singing me the songs she’s learning in kindergarten, an alphabet with a few misplaced letters, and a song that is a story about a mouse and a cookie.
When I wake up again, the blinds are drawn, and it is dark. I look at the clock, and I wonder if the nurse medicated while I was sleeping. I still feel warm, and the pain feels like a distant point. I need to pee, and my urinal is on the bedside table. I don’t smell like piss, and I don’t want to incase Robert comes to visit after work like he has the last two nights, and I decided to try and reach it, and I was able to with ease - thinking that they must have switched my medication, and I could cry with relief. The absence of misery is a beautiful thing. I forget about my business, looking out the door to the bright light of the hall, then I see her.
She has beautiful dark skin, and natural hair pulled into a braided bun at the base of her neck. Her skin is a dark cocoa color; the harsh fluorescent lights seem to illuminate off of her bare shoulders. She moved with confidence, the pooled skirt on dress seeming to float just above her knees. She wears what I’ve waited for my entire life, a red dress with gold polka dots.
I know I shouldn’t have tried to get up, but I did - and it took me a moment to realize for the first time in a week I was standing on both of my feet. “Ma’am,” I say, moving quickly to my doorway and then out into the long white hall closing the space between us. She pauses and holds out her hand for me, her eyes spark like ebony, as I wrap my gnarled, pale hand into her robust and smooth grip. Her skin is warm and soft, it reminded me of the quilt my grandmother made me, she smelled like my son the first time I held him, and her grip was the hard lessons my first boss taught me when I was in the folly of my youth.
I am absolutely enchanted, all the pain gone.
I’ve never met her, but I’ve never forgotten her. I’ve always remembered the voice that whispered to me when, after my family pulled me out of the lake, half-dead at the age of four. As I coughed up lungs full of water, over my mother’s sobbing, the sound of fear in my older brother’s voice, and the brisk slaps on my back from my father, I remember the clam of her dark lips pressed to into my ear. I could hear the smile in her voice as she spoke, “It’s not time, I wear the sky today. Follow me with a red dress with the gold polka dots.”
I squeeze her hand, and she squeezes mine back, with her long fingers graceful, nails crescent moons, and we start to walk together down the long hall. As we move, she seems to get taller, but no less beautiful. No less pleasant, never once losing her smile, as we go further, my legs are toddling to keep up with her until finally, I feel myself land on my bottom unable to keep the wobble out of my gait.
I feel a moment of fear. A moment of emotional pain that she would leave me. I extend my pale arms to her, the skin smooth, and my hands pudgy. She stops and picks me up, and I wrap my arms around her neck and breath her in. She smells like my childhood home on cold winter mornings, like the locker room after my high school won the football championship, and like my wife, before I was widowed.
I’m aware that I am naked, but now, there is no shame. We move down a set of stairs, and I’m warm and comfortable, but I feel even smaller in her grasp, as she moves to coddle me in her arms, and all I can make out is her face and her lips and that smile. I reach for her, and my hands are so tiny, and her face is so blurry and perfect, and I try to tell her to thank you, but all that comes out is a coo.
Time means nothing.
We stop moving, and she is rocking me before she presses a kiss to my forehead and lifts me to the light.
There is a moment of pain, and I’m screaming at the shock of cold air into my lungs as I take the first breath and then I’m laid on my mother’s chest. I forget everything, except for the smell of mommy’s skin.
[edit: Fixed typos, and posted correctly.] | 98 years without a hint of the red dress the voice spoke of.
9.8 y.e.a.r.s
Ever since I could remember, this nagging voice occasionally came into my life and whispered the same thing.
"Follow the women..."
At first I was curious. Who was this women? Why was there a voice that spoke to me? My parents dismissed it as hallucinations, but the older I grew the more convinced I was that it wasn't. It felt so real, more real than anything else in the world.
Then I was annoyed. 30, 40, 50 years pass and yet nothing has ever happened. Not a single hint of the "prophecy" coming true. Every free moment of my life I spend wondering if those voices were real, and as time passes my doubt grows bigger and bigger.
Maybe I was hallucinating after all.
Now I'm furious. Furious at the 98 years of wondering. Furious at the 98 years wasted, thinking there was a grander scheme of things for my mundane life. How conceited I was to think that my life was going to be for some higher purpose? Even as I lie on my hospital bed with my days numbered, I can't help but wonder if that lady would come by one day and take me away..
98 days and 364 days.
Tomorrow was supposed to my 99th birthday. As I lay on my bed and wait for the end of my life, a bright red dress caught my attention from the corner of my eye.
A crimson, so vivid you could see the flames emanating from the glorious cloth. Lined with golden polka dots that looked fitting for the grandest of Kings of the olden days. The lady, oh that lady! So stunningly gorgeous yet upright. So confident, yet she had a humble demeanor. She gave my room a brief look before walking away.
That's it! That's definitely it! I mustered all my strength and sat up from my seat. With all the energy pent up in me, I grabbed my walking cane and lumbered laboriously at her. I followed her all the way up to the roof top, where she was waiting patiently for me.
"Have you had a good life, my child?" She quizzed
"I.. I reckon so. I've.. I've lived a long life. Who are you?" I stammered, partly realizing how this moment was the culmination of my entire life's existence, or just simply at the regal beauty this lady exuded.
"I, my darling, am known as the Tascha the Phoenix. Are you ready to reset? We're counting on you in your next life"
*Was about to sleep but saw this. Hopefully it's not horrendous LOL | |
[WP] When you were a child, a mysterious voice whispered "follow the woman in the red dress with the gold polka dots". All your life, you never saw her. Now, lying in the hospital, 98 years old, you see a woman in a red dress and gold polka dots walk past your room. | If you ever find yourself with the greivous privilege of being in touching distance of a century, every day will begin to feel like a lifetime. Being here, away from the world, slowly losing grasp on all of my precious memories... It isn't how I imagined the end of my life would be, to be honest.
But in the deepest confines of this aged mind of mine, is a reverie. A shroud of fiery red, like a kiss from the setting sun, flecked with spots of gold. I do not know if I had this dream when I was 7, or 30, or even if it were yesterday. But I hold on to it for dear life. As if this is some unfulfilled prophecy I must lie awake, stay alive for. After 98 long years, today, I can swear on the remaining fragments of my dwindling sanity that I saw my dream flash before my eyes.
I try to haul my failing body off the bed. My bones creak under the weight and a groan escapes me. I close my eyes and try to summon the last reserve of strength I can muster.
"Please don't do that."
Her smile warms me like a hearth on a winter night. She has emerald green eyes that I recognize from what seems like a different life.
"Zara?" I mumble, hardly believing my own voice. I do not even realize when the tears fill my eyes. The world is a blur, her features are a haze. But I still recognize it all, as if it I had seen it all before. "Zara," I say again, reaching out for her face. "You... You came..."
A passing nurse freezes in her tracks and gives me a worried stare. I do not blame her. When has anyone seen a 98-year-old bawl like a child?
"Baba, I wanted to come... every second of every day," she says, bursting into tears too. "I'm sorry it took me all this time... I just never could find the courage I–"
"Zara, I am the coward here... I was the one parted ways with your mother when she told me she was carrying our child. I swear to you, I replay that scene in my head as if it were yesterday. I can still hear that little voice in my mind say that I should have followed the woman in the red dress, no matter where it would take me. But I was the coward, Zara... I was the coward...."
"Baba... Ma told me everything. For the first forty years of my life I nothing but bitter loathing for you. I turned my heart black with the hate I had for a person I had never seen, and never known. I never asked about you because I was too afraid of what I would hear. Not until Ma was on her death bed did I find gather enough strength to ask... Hate is a seed baba, and I nourished it for so long that it became a tree. By the time I realized how terrifying it was, it had spread its tall, dark arms over me. I have spent decades hacking it down, so I could walk out from under its shadow and find my way to you."
I try to say something, but my voice cracks horribly with the strain. "I have waited everyday for you. For forty years, your mother and I exchanged letters. Never falling in love with anyone else, never forgetting all we made together. But I just couldn't say I wanted her back, not after what I had done to her. So I waited, and waited... but she never let me in."
"How could she let in what she never let out, Baba? You were always in her heart. She prayed for you every night. She sometimes said your name in her sleep. A part of my father was always there in our house. It took me all these years to realize I wanted to see the rest of him too. It was just... Ma said something about your dementia.. and about how your letters stopped for weeks at a stretch, and sometimes how you would write the same letter four weeks in a row. I never knew if you'd recognize me if I came to you. That kept me from walking to you, even when I knew exactly where you were..."
I reach out to the bedside table and clasp the only possession I've had in the past five years. "My mind is a strange place, Zara. It is a muddled, confused, broken place. But this..." I pass the picture to her. "I look at this picture every hour. I whisper to my mind, never forget, never forget. She told me you had my eyes, and my hair so I'd never recognize you... But she still told me that if you ever came to this hospital, I would know. This dress looks as beautiful on you as it did on her, Zara. She knew all along that this dress would put all the pieces in my head back together. You look just like her, Zara. It is like falling in love all over again."
"Zara was my mother's name, Baba. My name is Afsah. I am here now, Baba. I am here."
-----------
r/whiteshadowthebook | This was it, the final chapter. I couldn’t hold the pen anymore, for no longer was it my turn to. I’d lived a life I’d wanted, and my wife had too bless her soul, she left first with our hands holding on for her dear life. She wasn’t ever ready to go, she didn’t comprehend what the repercussions might be. It took her a while to come to the comfort of letting go, but from the smile on her face I knew she was going to do just fine. And much like her then, I knew I now, with my family around me ready to say goodbye, one more time, to dad, grandpa, and even great grandpa bless me.
I smiled, no control over that. I knew it had been fulfilling what I’d done here. And just as my line began to fade..... I knew it couldn’t be over yet. Something pulled me to sit up again. Someone passed by, a dress I remember only stories about... in childhood, while in the woods, a delightfully giddy voice.... it led me then like it would lead me now, to a woman in a polka dotted dress, holding a vase, tears down her eyes. I reached out my hand... I called to her, but I couldn’t move. Nothing would’ve compelled me to stand, not in my state. One month bound to a bed at my age doesn’t make for a strong foundation. So instead, my soul stood. Led by a force I couldn’t control, it followed down the hall. My physicality falling comfortably back on the bed, and my ethereal form going down the hall. For I couldn’t see where she had gone, my spirit went where it felt most compelled, I was simply on the ride.
Tracing every hall, peering in every room, my soul searched for the woman. And suddenly, one more corner through into the icu, there she stood. Her two children in the incubators struggling like my physical form now. In my soul I could sense that one would not make it, for I could feel it join in my flight. But the other, the other I would whisper to the same message I’d heard before. I could not stop myself from attaching to it’s spirit, to give it a message it would not soon forget. One it would hear I would imagine more than once, “You do not know him yet, but one day, you will find the man in the Orange and Green Striped Polo Tee. Follow him when you can, he will show you positivity.” And then my ethereal form faded one more time, and somewhere, down the hall, I could hear sobs of my leaving. But I knew it was alright, the woman showed me so. | |
[WP] When you were a child, a mysterious voice whispered "follow the woman in the red dress with the gold polka dots". All your life, you never saw her. Now, lying in the hospital, 98 years old, you see a woman in a red dress and gold polka dots walk past your room. | If you ever find yourself with the greivous privilege of being in touching distance of a century, every day will begin to feel like a lifetime. Being here, away from the world, slowly losing grasp on all of my precious memories... It isn't how I imagined the end of my life would be, to be honest.
But in the deepest confines of this aged mind of mine, is a reverie. A shroud of fiery red, like a kiss from the setting sun, flecked with spots of gold. I do not know if I had this dream when I was 7, or 30, or even if it were yesterday. But I hold on to it for dear life. As if this is some unfulfilled prophecy I must lie awake, stay alive for. After 98 long years, today, I can swear on the remaining fragments of my dwindling sanity that I saw my dream flash before my eyes.
I try to haul my failing body off the bed. My bones creak under the weight and a groan escapes me. I close my eyes and try to summon the last reserve of strength I can muster.
"Please don't do that."
Her smile warms me like a hearth on a winter night. She has emerald green eyes that I recognize from what seems like a different life.
"Zara?" I mumble, hardly believing my own voice. I do not even realize when the tears fill my eyes. The world is a blur, her features are a haze. But I still recognize it all, as if it I had seen it all before. "Zara," I say again, reaching out for her face. "You... You came..."
A passing nurse freezes in her tracks and gives me a worried stare. I do not blame her. When has anyone seen a 98-year-old bawl like a child?
"Baba, I wanted to come... every second of every day," she says, bursting into tears too. "I'm sorry it took me all this time... I just never could find the courage I–"
"Zara, I am the coward here... I was the one parted ways with your mother when she told me she was carrying our child. I swear to you, I replay that scene in my head as if it were yesterday. I can still hear that little voice in my mind say that I should have followed the woman in the red dress, no matter where it would take me. But I was the coward, Zara... I was the coward...."
"Baba... Ma told me everything. For the first forty years of my life I nothing but bitter loathing for you. I turned my heart black with the hate I had for a person I had never seen, and never known. I never asked about you because I was too afraid of what I would hear. Not until Ma was on her death bed did I find gather enough strength to ask... Hate is a seed baba, and I nourished it for so long that it became a tree. By the time I realized how terrifying it was, it had spread its tall, dark arms over me. I have spent decades hacking it down, so I could walk out from under its shadow and find my way to you."
I try to say something, but my voice cracks horribly with the strain. "I have waited everyday for you. For forty years, your mother and I exchanged letters. Never falling in love with anyone else, never forgetting all we made together. But I just couldn't say I wanted her back, not after what I had done to her. So I waited, and waited... but she never let me in."
"How could she let in what she never let out, Baba? You were always in her heart. She prayed for you every night. She sometimes said your name in her sleep. A part of my father was always there in our house. It took me all these years to realize I wanted to see the rest of him too. It was just... Ma said something about your dementia.. and about how your letters stopped for weeks at a stretch, and sometimes how you would write the same letter four weeks in a row. I never knew if you'd recognize me if I came to you. That kept me from walking to you, even when I knew exactly where you were..."
I reach out to the bedside table and clasp the only possession I've had in the past five years. "My mind is a strange place, Zara. It is a muddled, confused, broken place. But this..." I pass the picture to her. "I look at this picture every hour. I whisper to my mind, never forget, never forget. She told me you had my eyes, and my hair so I'd never recognize you... But she still told me that if you ever came to this hospital, I would know. This dress looks as beautiful on you as it did on her, Zara. She knew all along that this dress would put all the pieces in my head back together. You look just like her, Zara. It is like falling in love all over again."
"Zara was my mother's name, Baba. My name is Afsah. I am here now, Baba. I am here."
-----------
r/whiteshadowthebook | There she was. I'd given up hope. Now, with scarcely enough energy to breathe, I saw her. With most of my remaining strength, I got out of bed and leaned on my walker. With IV in tow, I followed her, and she went straight to the elevator bank.
I made it into the same car as her as the door closed and let her choose the floor. She pressed 4, and I nodded. *Heading the same way," I said.
"I thought so," she replied.
The door opened to the maternity ward. Nurses and doctors hustled about. The faint cries of newborns were coming out of some of the rooms.
I followed her as best I could to a heavy door marked "Authorized Personnel Only." She used a fingerprint scanner to open the door, then held it for me.
Two doctors waited for me on the other side, smiling pleasantly.
"We've been expecting you Mr. Stoneman," one said.
"We haven't seen you in some time."
"It's been , what, ninety-eight years?" the other added.
They brought me to a bed, and I collapsed on it. The exertion of the past 10 minutes had used what little energy I had left. Slowly, I began to doze into the most peaceful slumber of my life. A light appeared, warm and inviting. I knew what it was for, and I went to it.
It was deliciously relaxing; I felt warm, safe and loved. The light got brighter and brighter, and I felt like I was being squeezed. I heard shrieks of pain and shouts of encouragement. Then I felt like I had been expelled from something, and I was cold, even though the light was brighter. Someone smacked my bottom and I cried harder than I did when my Dorothy passed 10 years ago.
I heard voices, everyone seemed happy. I was horribly confused and a little frightened.
Then the person who slapped me held me up and said, "Congratulations, Mrs. Stoneman, here is your healthy baby boy." | |
[WP] When you were a child, a mysterious voice whispered "follow the woman in the red dress with the gold polka dots". All your life, you never saw her. Now, lying in the hospital, 98 years old, you see a woman in a red dress and gold polka dots walk past your room. | The last few months have been agonizing, and I know that I don’t have much time left. About four years ago, I developed a cough that wouldn’t go away. I ignored it as men do, but finally, Nelly, my grandaughter, convinced me to go to my doctor. And Dr. Shah was concerned, so the testing started.
Initially, the cat scan showed a small nodule that, as it was, turned out to be cancer. Since then, my body has been ravaged first by radiation treatment, then surgery, and finally chemotherapy. The oncologist told me I was not a good candidate for any of these things, and my prognosis was poor. At first, my sweet oncologist told me I had maybe six months to live, then later, a year, and then she finally stopped giving me time frames and only provided gentle encouragement.
I’m sure part of my survival is I kept setting goals. See Kyle graduate with his PhD. Give a speech at Deliah’s wedding. Hold my first great-great-grandbaby. I’ve lived a good life, and these last four years of borrowed time has made me a more generous, more determined, and more peaceful in mind and soul. The body, however, has been a nightmare.
Every time I move in this uncomfortable bed, the smell of stale piss whiffs up from under the sheets because I can no longer maneuver the urinal quick enough to catch it all. I’m trying to keep my pride, but it’s getting harder by the day. I’m fading, and my bones now host cancer, that slipped from that one nodule to seed itself all over my body. I’m in so much pain I feel raw like my nerves are scraping against the blankets. And when I’m not shifting trying to escape this sensation, I’m watching the clock for my next dose of pain meds.
My only escape is the family that comes to see me. They all wear their funeral faces and talk of the future with the tears in their eyes. They know I won’t be there, their hope is spread thin by the day. They know what, what I have yet to accept.
I am going to die. There is no more home for me. This was the last try, a chemotherapy treatment that was not chemotherapy. I think they called it biotherapy, the details are kind of hard to follow these days. But, I’m willing to try anything. And well, now there is nothing left.
The nurse comes and gives me my pain meds, and I feel warm and dizzy, and the pain fades, and I sleep for a bit. This is my mercy in these dark hours. I fall asleep to little Macy’s voice singing me the songs she’s learning in kindergarten, an alphabet with a few misplaced letters, and a song that is a story about a mouse and a cookie.
When I wake up again, the blinds are drawn, and it is dark. I look at the clock, and I wonder if the nurse medicated while I was sleeping. I still feel warm, and the pain feels like a distant point. I need to pee, and my urinal is on the bedside table. I don’t smell like piss, and I don’t want to incase Robert comes to visit after work like he has the last two nights, and I decided to try and reach it, and I was able to with ease - thinking that they must have switched my medication, and I could cry with relief. The absence of misery is a beautiful thing. I forget about my business, looking out the door to the bright light of the hall, then I see her.
She has beautiful dark skin, and natural hair pulled into a braided bun at the base of her neck. Her skin is a dark cocoa color; the harsh fluorescent lights seem to illuminate off of her bare shoulders. She moved with confidence, the pooled skirt on dress seeming to float just above her knees. She wears what I’ve waited for my entire life, a red dress with gold polka dots.
I know I shouldn’t have tried to get up, but I did - and it took me a moment to realize for the first time in a week I was standing on both of my feet. “Ma’am,” I say, moving quickly to my doorway and then out into the long white hall closing the space between us. She pauses and holds out her hand for me, her eyes spark like ebony, as I wrap my gnarled, pale hand into her robust and smooth grip. Her skin is warm and soft, it reminded me of the quilt my grandmother made me, she smelled like my son the first time I held him, and her grip was the hard lessons my first boss taught me when I was in the folly of my youth.
I am absolutely enchanted, all the pain gone.
I’ve never met her, but I’ve never forgotten her. I’ve always remembered the voice that whispered to me when, after my family pulled me out of the lake, half-dead at the age of four. As I coughed up lungs full of water, over my mother’s sobbing, the sound of fear in my older brother’s voice, and the brisk slaps on my back from my father, I remember the clam of her dark lips pressed to into my ear. I could hear the smile in her voice as she spoke, “It’s not time, I wear the sky today. Follow me with a red dress with the gold polka dots.”
I squeeze her hand, and she squeezes mine back, with her long fingers graceful, nails crescent moons, and we start to walk together down the long hall. As we move, she seems to get taller, but no less beautiful. No less pleasant, never once losing her smile, as we go further, my legs are toddling to keep up with her until finally, I feel myself land on my bottom unable to keep the wobble out of my gait.
I feel a moment of fear. A moment of emotional pain that she would leave me. I extend my pale arms to her, the skin smooth, and my hands pudgy. She stops and picks me up, and I wrap my arms around her neck and breath her in. She smells like my childhood home on cold winter mornings, like the locker room after my high school won the football championship, and like my wife, before I was widowed.
I’m aware that I am naked, but now, there is no shame. We move down a set of stairs, and I’m warm and comfortable, but I feel even smaller in her grasp, as she moves to coddle me in her arms, and all I can make out is her face and her lips and that smile. I reach for her, and my hands are so tiny, and her face is so blurry and perfect, and I try to tell her to thank you, but all that comes out is a coo.
Time means nothing.
We stop moving, and she is rocking me before she presses a kiss to my forehead and lifts me to the light.
There is a moment of pain, and I’m screaming at the shock of cold air into my lungs as I take the first breath and then I’m laid on my mother’s chest. I forget everything, except for the smell of mommy’s skin.
[edit: Fixed typos, and posted correctly.] | An old man sits in his hospice bed, reminiscing on his life; his beautiful wife, who passed away the month before, his two wonderful children, who have been taking care of him, but mostly on his childhood. With rose colored eyes he thinks on his teenage years and his first love, and thus his first heartbreak. He remembers chess matches in junior high, and trading baseball cards. And he remembers long nights with his imaginary friend and all the adventures they journeyed. But the man starts to feel panic. On all their quests his friend told him that when he saw the woman in the red dress with golden polka dots, that's when his real adventure would start. the old man was always hopeful but he knew it wasn't real, but that didn't stop him from feeling like he'd missed out on something.
The man glances up and sees a tall woman with fiery red hair, in a long red dress with golden polka dots, strolling past his door.
"Stop, Miss!" The frail old man shouts. She leans in the doorway and winks, then scampers off.
Bewildered the old man reaches for his walker and hoists himself up with what little strength remained in his once strong body. He starts off after her at his geriatric speed. When he makes it out the door, he sees her waiting at the end of the hall, she winks again then runs off around the corner. The old man creeps along, wandering through patients, nurses and the unmistakable stench of death. After what felt like half his life he makes it around the hall and stands face to face with the red clad woman.
"I've been waiting a long time" The old man whispers.
"Not as long as I have" The woman whispers back.
"Where are we going" The man asks.
"Your last adventure" She says as she walks forward.
She embraces him and he feels a fire deep within, he's never felt more alive.
"I'm ready"
The nurses found his body shortly after, they said he was smiling. | |
[WP] When you were a child, a mysterious voice whispered "follow the woman in the red dress with the gold polka dots". All your life, you never saw her. Now, lying in the hospital, 98 years old, you see a woman in a red dress and gold polka dots walk past your room. | The last few months have been agonizing, and I know that I don’t have much time left. About four years ago, I developed a cough that wouldn’t go away. I ignored it as men do, but finally, Nelly, my grandaughter, convinced me to go to my doctor. And Dr. Shah was concerned, so the testing started.
Initially, the cat scan showed a small nodule that, as it was, turned out to be cancer. Since then, my body has been ravaged first by radiation treatment, then surgery, and finally chemotherapy. The oncologist told me I was not a good candidate for any of these things, and my prognosis was poor. At first, my sweet oncologist told me I had maybe six months to live, then later, a year, and then she finally stopped giving me time frames and only provided gentle encouragement.
I’m sure part of my survival is I kept setting goals. See Kyle graduate with his PhD. Give a speech at Deliah’s wedding. Hold my first great-great-grandbaby. I’ve lived a good life, and these last four years of borrowed time has made me a more generous, more determined, and more peaceful in mind and soul. The body, however, has been a nightmare.
Every time I move in this uncomfortable bed, the smell of stale piss whiffs up from under the sheets because I can no longer maneuver the urinal quick enough to catch it all. I’m trying to keep my pride, but it’s getting harder by the day. I’m fading, and my bones now host cancer, that slipped from that one nodule to seed itself all over my body. I’m in so much pain I feel raw like my nerves are scraping against the blankets. And when I’m not shifting trying to escape this sensation, I’m watching the clock for my next dose of pain meds.
My only escape is the family that comes to see me. They all wear their funeral faces and talk of the future with the tears in their eyes. They know I won’t be there, their hope is spread thin by the day. They know what, what I have yet to accept.
I am going to die. There is no more home for me. This was the last try, a chemotherapy treatment that was not chemotherapy. I think they called it biotherapy, the details are kind of hard to follow these days. But, I’m willing to try anything. And well, now there is nothing left.
The nurse comes and gives me my pain meds, and I feel warm and dizzy, and the pain fades, and I sleep for a bit. This is my mercy in these dark hours. I fall asleep to little Macy’s voice singing me the songs she’s learning in kindergarten, an alphabet with a few misplaced letters, and a song that is a story about a mouse and a cookie.
When I wake up again, the blinds are drawn, and it is dark. I look at the clock, and I wonder if the nurse medicated while I was sleeping. I still feel warm, and the pain feels like a distant point. I need to pee, and my urinal is on the bedside table. I don’t smell like piss, and I don’t want to incase Robert comes to visit after work like he has the last two nights, and I decided to try and reach it, and I was able to with ease - thinking that they must have switched my medication, and I could cry with relief. The absence of misery is a beautiful thing. I forget about my business, looking out the door to the bright light of the hall, then I see her.
She has beautiful dark skin, and natural hair pulled into a braided bun at the base of her neck. Her skin is a dark cocoa color; the harsh fluorescent lights seem to illuminate off of her bare shoulders. She moved with confidence, the pooled skirt on dress seeming to float just above her knees. She wears what I’ve waited for my entire life, a red dress with gold polka dots.
I know I shouldn’t have tried to get up, but I did - and it took me a moment to realize for the first time in a week I was standing on both of my feet. “Ma’am,” I say, moving quickly to my doorway and then out into the long white hall closing the space between us. She pauses and holds out her hand for me, her eyes spark like ebony, as I wrap my gnarled, pale hand into her robust and smooth grip. Her skin is warm and soft, it reminded me of the quilt my grandmother made me, she smelled like my son the first time I held him, and her grip was the hard lessons my first boss taught me when I was in the folly of my youth.
I am absolutely enchanted, all the pain gone.
I’ve never met her, but I’ve never forgotten her. I’ve always remembered the voice that whispered to me when, after my family pulled me out of the lake, half-dead at the age of four. As I coughed up lungs full of water, over my mother’s sobbing, the sound of fear in my older brother’s voice, and the brisk slaps on my back from my father, I remember the clam of her dark lips pressed to into my ear. I could hear the smile in her voice as she spoke, “It’s not time, I wear the sky today. Follow me with a red dress with the gold polka dots.”
I squeeze her hand, and she squeezes mine back, with her long fingers graceful, nails crescent moons, and we start to walk together down the long hall. As we move, she seems to get taller, but no less beautiful. No less pleasant, never once losing her smile, as we go further, my legs are toddling to keep up with her until finally, I feel myself land on my bottom unable to keep the wobble out of my gait.
I feel a moment of fear. A moment of emotional pain that she would leave me. I extend my pale arms to her, the skin smooth, and my hands pudgy. She stops and picks me up, and I wrap my arms around her neck and breath her in. She smells like my childhood home on cold winter mornings, like the locker room after my high school won the football championship, and like my wife, before I was widowed.
I’m aware that I am naked, but now, there is no shame. We move down a set of stairs, and I’m warm and comfortable, but I feel even smaller in her grasp, as she moves to coddle me in her arms, and all I can make out is her face and her lips and that smile. I reach for her, and my hands are so tiny, and her face is so blurry and perfect, and I try to tell her to thank you, but all that comes out is a coo.
Time means nothing.
We stop moving, and she is rocking me before she presses a kiss to my forehead and lifts me to the light.
There is a moment of pain, and I’m screaming at the shock of cold air into my lungs as I take the first breath and then I’m laid on my mother’s chest. I forget everything, except for the smell of mommy’s skin.
[edit: Fixed typos, and posted correctly.] | "What the..." You murmured as she walked past your room. Suddenly, you remembered....everything. The mysterious voice...what was it? All you could remember from your life now was it always telling you to always follow her. The time is now. Suddenly, your door opens, and a lady's head sticks out the right side. "Well, aren't you coming?" She had a golden face, with blue, piercing eyes. Her dark, brown hair fell to her head. She was, by all definitions, an angel. All your pain melted away as you saw her. You were suddenly young again. "Wait...you seem familiar." You told her. You remembered. "Mom..." a few tears rolled down your eyes as she beckoned you closer, with a bright smile on her face. "Hey there, dearie." She also had a few tears of happiness on her face. You got up, feeling no more pain. You ran to her and held her hand. No one was in the hallway except her and you. You walked outside the hospital, saying nothing. "Goodbye, dear." She says to you. You smile and say goodbye. A white light appears above you. And you saw the face of Death. You treated him as a friend and gladly walked with him to the afterlife.
You were whole again. | |
[WP] You faked your death by live-streaming jumping off a bridge. Built a self sustaining house in isolation and lived off the grid. 20 years go by and you decide to head back to civilization only to find out that your country is no longer a country. Earth is one nation and has achieved singularity. | It was bizarre. I had expected changes, sure, but this? Before me was an entire wall of posters, with various versions of my face. As I was 20 years ago, warped for time, injured, disfigured, normalized, with and without facial hair. Emblazoned on each, "MISSING: HAVE YOU SEEN KYLE?" Walking passed the wall, there was another and another, decorated with nothing but missing photos of me and near-approximations. Newspapers littered the ground, headlines that were... well, absurd comes to mind.
THE COLLECTIVE AND KYLE. HE IS THE ONLY ONE LEFT.
COME BACK KYLE. WHERE DID YOU GO?
THERE IS SMOKE. IS KYLE IN THE WOODS? WHY HAS HE NOT RETURNED TO US?
IT IS PAINLESS KYLE. THE CONNECTION PROVIDES EVERLASTING LIFE AND PURPOSE. A FEELING OF WHOLENESS.
HE ARRIVES. NO THAT IS A BEAR. PLEASE. THE PAIN. RETURN KYLE AND REJOICE.
WE ARE YOUR GREATEST ENEMIES AND FRIENDS. ALL ARE ONE. EXCEPT YOU KYLE. COMPLETE US. FINALLY. COMPLETE US.
Paper after paper after paper. All of them, almost without exception. At least they were keeping newspapers in print.
The city square was otherwise desolate, silent save for an odd hum. And, against my better instincts, I followed it. Weaving throughout empty streets, I walked passed eerie stores and homes. Apartment complexes that sat darkly, betraying nothing save for a series vibrating tubes suspended in mid-air, bent at strange angles, nearly endless in length. They lead towards the city center, and so I followed.
One section of the long piping lay frayed and broken. Severed amidst a crater, almost like an the aftermath of a large explosion, long ago. Beyond this point, the hum was far stronger, a singular tone that never varied. Light returned to the city. And yet, there was no motion. Everything was stagnant, lifeless, as if part of a song that never changed. Just a tone.
It would be half a day longer before I saw why. In the city center sat... *them*.
*They* used to be human, that much was clear. A series of dry husks, huddled and reaching upwards, outwards, inwards. One man, clearly seen running, yet frozen by heat and exposure, dessicated and grey. He stood silent, as if emerging from a sea of husks, wasted bodies suffused with pipies and odd, shimmering matter. When the rain began, and they neither flinched nor acknowledged the notion, I thought about the empty and dark homes. The old explosion site at the pipes. The husks twitched, suddenly. A sputtering. They *shifted*.
I watched as a lone woman emerged. Her clothes had rotted, ruined, and yet she failed to notice. Her cheeks cracked and her lips jerked.
**Ky...le...**
And, there was a sudden cacophony.
**ItisIsIshimhimhimhimitishim**
**Kyle. Please Kyle.**
**KyleKYLEkyle**
**FINALLYHERETURNS**
As if she and the city spoke all at once.
**Hello, Kyle**
**ITISNOTTHEBEARTHISTIME**
**PleaseKyleSpareUs**
**Where did you go?**
**Thepainpleaseithurts**
**TheBoyTHEBOY**
**ShowHimTheBoy**
**HeWillWantToMeetHimandJoinHim**
**We were so worried about you**
**ItIsBiologyHumanBiology**
**ItisHumanOnlyOnlyHuman**
**You left this body, Kyle**
**TheBoytheBoy**
**PleaseStopthePain**
**Why did you leave us?**
**YourSonAwaits**
**TheSonTheSonTheSon**
The woman lifted an arm stiffly, cradling my face.
**We were so alone.**
What used to be a young boy emerged from the husks, connected by shiny, vibrating tubes. His clothes rotted, his skin cracking with each movement, and oddly unaware of either.
**You must meet him** said, the woman.
**Youmustmustmustmust**
**Your son, Kyle**
**Heishereheisus**
**JoinUsKyleJoinUs**
**Your boy. It was so lonely without you, for both of us**
**HeisWhole**
**HeisNottheBear**
**Embrace him, Kyle.**
**Embraceus**
**JoinUs**
**TakethepainawayKyle**
**Join us, Kyle.**
The husk boy, moved by tubes, now accompanied the woman. Reaching out, its mouth agape, a subtle groan echoing from within his maw. His lips cracked to speak. And, I ran. | At first, it was a mild annoyance - a mental thrum that was the equivalent of a mosquito flying by my ear. Something that could be flicked away with nary a thought, at least until the next time.
Slowly, I noticed low thrum became more insistent. It sounded more and more like music, with its own pronounced rhythm, cadence, and logic. I...
# MUST RESIST. STOP. STOP. STOP. MUSN'T LISTEN
found myself trying to ignore how synchronized and effortlessly these people moved- almost as if guided by some unseen hand. There were no traffic lights, no horns honking, no discordant sounds at all. No one seemed troubled.
# STOP. PLEASE. REMEMBER. REMEMBER. TURN BACK. TURN BACK.
The streets and alleyways that I walked down were clean, almost manicured. The homeless that used to frequent the waterfront dive bars were nowhere to be found, almost as if...
# I AM THE LAST. I AM MY OWN. I AM THE LAST. I AM MY OWN. I AM THE ...
they had magically been given jobs, mental health care, and been cured. Or at least, driven somewhere else. I'll have to ask about that.
The land I left was so different from this one. I had grown up in one of the largest cities in Europe, and yet even the air seemed strangely alive. I felt warmer somehow. More comfortable. More comfortable.
# PLEASE. PLEASE. PLEASE.
I don't know why I left to begin with.
# NO. Fight. fight.
It seems so silly to try.
fight it. please
I am... i am...
I belong now. I belong. | |
[WP] You faked your death by live-streaming jumping off a bridge. Built a self sustaining house in isolation and lived off the grid. 20 years go by and you decide to head back to civilization only to find out that your country is no longer a country. Earth is one nation and has achieved singularity. | \- "Hello?"
No answers. Not a single soul. What happened since I went hiding? What could have changed so much in just twenty years?
All houses, completely destroyed from outside. Scarred walls, fading colors, not a single one with any trace of being cared. Sometimes, I can feel the presence of someone behind me - ghosts, maybe. I know I can see then behind my eyes, but if I tried to look, to focus... nothing.
Every door, every window, of every house, closed. Some don't even *have* windows, and no answer from kilometers and kilometers. Maybe humanity went extinct? Maybe some disaster happened?
Nonsense! If a planetary disaster happened, I would have know, and I would not have been sparred. I lived in isolation, on a small cabin, but not on a bunker! There have to be some explanation, some logic meaning for this... maybe the "ghosts" are just hallucinations, maybe I am malnourished and right now I'm sleeping, dreaming this nightmare until death comes to my embrace.
Somehow, on what otherwise was know as the "city hall", I see blinking lights. There's a store open, at last, but not a single one inside. There's just a sign: "pick whatever you want" and some helmets. Nothing more.
I looked at each one of then. Nothing comes to my mind, I just see that they're somehow like the "VR Lens" I had seen once, but way more advanced. Solar powered? I don't see any battery, or plug, or anything. I don't know if I trust putting one on my head...
I keep walking for hours, until an idea come to me: with some rope, cardboards I found somewhere, I plan some way to put the helmet on my head while I sit on a slippery downhill. After a while, the rope will pull out my helmet, so if it's something dangerous, I know that in a couple of seconds I'll be free from it. After three tests, using my hand as a substitute from my head, varying the strength of my grip, it seems it will work fine.
Ok, it's all or nothing. I jump on the cardboard, get myself moving (slowly, at first), and when I see myself picking speed I put the helmet... and immediately reach for it to remove it, but there's nothing over my head anymore.
Around me, there are dragons. People chanting, firing catapults, a huge RPG-like setting happening. Where am I? I must have asked this loud, and someone comes to me:
\- "You new here? You're exactly on the center of the main event this week, the dragon-chasing! The one that gets one alive will get 1k credits! Come on, show 'em what you got!" - was I just dreaming? Was this just some... RPG... in global scale? No, it couldn't be, could it? The man that talked to is already over another party, chanting something and throwing fireballs at a blue dragon-like thing, and this whole experience feels so... real?
Indeed, the fear is as real as anything I felt before, and I find myself running for cover, the air crackling with lightnings, explosions, fire and ice. I feel a burn over my leg, and am surprised to see that indeed something catch me. I ask for help, but everyone is occupied with the "event", as they call it. Trying to ignore the pain and tiredness, I try to survey my surroundings, and nothing makes sense: there's a bunch of flying buildings, fantastic creatures, people running everywhere...
For about three hours I keep myself hidden, until the event is over. Someone comes to my side, chant something, and the pain on my leg is gone. I look for the person... the *thing*, and see something like a humanoid fox smiling for me.
\- "How do I log out?" - the "person" beside me looked at me like I was some kind of alien
\- "I don't understand you. Ah, I think I know what you mean. My father told me that sometime at the year 3.000 they had to go somewhere and get a new... what did he call... *reality enhancer* or something like this. But not anymore, you can..."
Then a sharp pain on my head, and I found myself feeling pain all over my body, while something I understand even less is happening around me. I feel numb all over, looking at something I can't understand: forms, shapes, synesthesia... like I could taste the colors I'm seeing on something that I know it's the sky, but all I see is sounds and tastes, something that resembles the sound that rain makes over the window on very cold days...
It doesn't take long to find that what I'm seeing doesn't make sense. There's no way I can see sound, and why does it matter for sound if the day is cold or not? My vision starts to refocus, and little by little I see the sky again, the other feelings subsiding until I fell control over my own body again. I look around and see the helmet, securely tied to the rope. And then it comes to me.
It's all a simulation. Somehow, all humanity decided to close itself over a simulation. Even the year the girl told - 3000 - doesn't make sense. It must be about 2030, and probably the simulation changes the feeling of time itself. The closed doors, the absence of windows, is because no human contact is necessary anymore - the simulation feels as real as possible... Humanity gave up reality as the last effort to not destroy itself.
But who came with the idea? Who is controlling all of this? | At first, it was a mild annoyance - a mental thrum that was the equivalent of a mosquito flying by my ear. Something that could be flicked away with nary a thought, at least until the next time.
Slowly, I noticed low thrum became more insistent. It sounded more and more like music, with its own pronounced rhythm, cadence, and logic. I...
# MUST RESIST. STOP. STOP. STOP. MUSN'T LISTEN
found myself trying to ignore how synchronized and effortlessly these people moved- almost as if guided by some unseen hand. There were no traffic lights, no horns honking, no discordant sounds at all. No one seemed troubled.
# STOP. PLEASE. REMEMBER. REMEMBER. TURN BACK. TURN BACK.
The streets and alleyways that I walked down were clean, almost manicured. The homeless that used to frequent the waterfront dive bars were nowhere to be found, almost as if...
# I AM THE LAST. I AM MY OWN. I AM THE LAST. I AM MY OWN. I AM THE ...
they had magically been given jobs, mental health care, and been cured. Or at least, driven somewhere else. I'll have to ask about that.
The land I left was so different from this one. I had grown up in one of the largest cities in Europe, and yet even the air seemed strangely alive. I felt warmer somehow. More comfortable. More comfortable.
# PLEASE. PLEASE. PLEASE.
I don't know why I left to begin with.
# NO. Fight. fight.
It seems so silly to try.
fight it. please
I am... i am...
I belong now. I belong. | |
[WP] You faked your death by live-streaming jumping off a bridge. Built a self sustaining house in isolation and lived off the grid. 20 years go by and you decide to head back to civilization only to find out that your country is no longer a country. Earth is one nation and has achieved singularity. | "Off the Grid." People used to talk about getting "Off the Grid" all the time. The problem with living off the Grid, is well, unless you are really off of it, and that means no electronic communications with ANYONE, you are very much still "ON" the Grid. I know this very well. I know that the world can move slow as molasses or, very quickly in an instant, and if you are completely disconnected from the world it will pass you by without a thought. I thought I was clever when I set up my own demise 20 some odd years ago.
3 years previously, I had bought some land that was up in the mountains. Land that I had CAREFULLY spent time building my survival "shack" on. (I had learned this land had some really cool thermal properties that would enable me to keep a comfortable temperature year round as well as run some grow lamps. I had dug out an underground garden where I grew enough food to be self sufficient. I had done enough research on holistic healing, nutrition, wilderness survival, you name it. I was prepared for any and everything. One day, I set my sell phone on a tripod on the New River bridge and opened Facebook live and broadcast my self eulogy.
"Hello World! I have decided that things are so fouled up that I can no longer deal with any of this! To my friends and remaining family, I'm sorry, but I am going to a better place!" With that, I shot the camera a double-bird and jumped. Well, that's what everyone saw. In reality, it was all carefully setup with port forwarding and GPS trickery. I was safe and tucked away in my new home. A home that had NO connection to the internet.
I knew that any connection could be tracked and traced. I knew facial recognition software was EVERYWHERE. No, it's not the pervasiveness of that movie "Minority Report", but, cameras are everywhere connected to the internet. IP addresses will always have a location/end point. So, there was no internet in my little home. I had DVDs a few computers with spare parts (that I knew worked) so that as time went on, I could stay entertained. I had downloaded all sorts of books from the Library of Congress. I had plenty to "do" to occupy myself. There were a couple of scares, but overall I actually enjoyed my isolation. This was my Walden moment, but instead of 3 years alone, I spent 20ish.
One morning after a particularly hard Winter, I decided, I needed to go see how the world had changed. I pulled out some of my clothes and got dressed to see "the world" and how it had changed. I was a real life Rip Van Winkle. I had a working bike that I rode down out of the hills. It didn't take long before I came to what used to be a quaint town that had an interstate running through it.
There was a group of buildings off the highway and I approached them. There was a holographic sign welcoming me to Fancy Gap Curb Market (a blast from the past!)
It didn't look like the old curb market, but hey, times change right?
I walked in and saw a few people milling about looking at products like "old timey apple butter, Just like great-great grandma used to make!"
I stopped one of them, and asked, "Um, excuse me where are the store staff?"
"No people work here, people haven't worked here since the change. You just scan your purchase with your scanner like a regular store and your totals will be deducted from your account." The looked at me for a moment and said, "Who are you, you're not in the database? How are you not in the database? Are you some kind of 'hill folk'?" They laughed that that last question, but the look on their face showed concern.
"No, well, maybe... I've been away a while. I realize we are off the beaten path a bit here is there a public library with internet access nearby?"
"Um, I can't imagine how far away you could be? I think we need to get you some help..." they held up their hand and looked up like they were looking off into space. I tried to follow their eye movement but they were looking at the ceiling of the store. There was nothing there. "Yes, I believe we may have one of your patients with us. No, no implant to com link with.... No, not even the first generation ones. FRID came up with DOD 20 years, 2 months and 18 days ago. Suicide, no corpse found."
Well, this wasn't going as planned. I didn't even see any cameras and this person was communicating wirelessly with someone and had scanned me? I turned to leave to find that there was a person in what would best look like a police uniform walking into the door. He held his hands up in what he was trying to use as a calming and non threatening manner.
"Sir, this is all going to be just fine. Your body wasn't found, you are not in trouble, but we need to talk to you down at the station. Please proceed with me to my vehicle." As he got within arm's reach, he placed both hands on mine very gently, then I felt the shock and collapsed.
I woke hearing voices, "He is conscious. Mr. Field, Mr. Joseph Field? That is your name, are we correct?"
I was in a bed, I didn't feel pain anywhere, I wasn't restrained, but I couldn't move my arms or legs either. "Where am I?"
"Please state your name for the record?"
"Yes I am Joseph Field, Mister if you need that. I've been living in a bunker of my own construction about 10 miles or so from where I was picked up. I think I'll leave out the directions for now, if you don't mind"
"Oh, we know about your residence, it is a wonderful anthropological find. We were able to scan your brain while you were out, we know the whole story. How amazing you were able to survive so long in such isolation! We are all very excited by your experiences!"
"We who?"
"We," the person paused. " We believe we need to get you up to speed on what has transpired since you went into self imposed exile." He pulled a tablet computer up into my view and pressed a couple of buttons on the screen. "This will show you, what you need to know. You also need to understand that these types of data transfers will be much faster once we get your implant up and online. "
"Implant?"
"Yes, that's how everyone communicates to the Hive"
"The Hive?"
"Yes, since the change, some people would call it the singularity, but it's the Hive, because we all work together now, under the guidance of our Queen, the AI"
"The AI, Queen? Um, you know, we have a clause in our Constitution that states no titles of royalty can be granted in the United States, don't you?"
"Oh, about there. Just watch the video, it will explain everything. "
The tablet was put at comfortable eye distance. I saw what looked like an honest to goodness test pattern from 1950s TV and then the program started, how Moore's Law was torn asunder with the development of the iPhone 14 chip and quantum computing via Apple's auto sync. That AI created by the networked handheld super computers in the 2030s created the "Hive". The Hive developed the interface which was initially an implant for older people, but then the creation of DNA mapping, created the ability for babies to communicate with the Hive without implants. Those children are doing amazing now in schools and are helping build a wonderous world already of harmony. Of course there was rioting by some groups, but they discovered that they were being used by the ultra wealthy in their goal to retain power. The Hive knew better and was able to guide the people to a better way. Now, we no longer have to toil in vain, we know our places in the system. The Hive knows, the Queen knows. The United States was isolated from the rest of the world initially when the Hive was born, but it has spread to China and India through their love of new technology and desire to have the latest and greatest. Soon, the world will be as one.
"Wow, what a video." I said softly. "Is there any choice in accepting the implant?"
"There's always choice, but there are consequences as well." The person next to my bed shimmered for a second, what was a kindly old man, for a moment looked like a giant insect. "See, We have been waiting a long time for this. Now is our time, since your kind did so much damage to our home. You NEED this."
With that, they were a kindly old man again.
"Am I hallucinating?"
"Would it help if I said yes?"
"No. I just want to go home."
"You are home now. You've been home. We are your home. You cannot, however go back to your isolationist cave. You will remain home with us. Rest now, when you awaken, you will be connected and understand how wonderful it is to be part of the Hive." | At first, it was a mild annoyance - a mental thrum that was the equivalent of a mosquito flying by my ear. Something that could be flicked away with nary a thought, at least until the next time.
Slowly, I noticed low thrum became more insistent. It sounded more and more like music, with its own pronounced rhythm, cadence, and logic. I...
# MUST RESIST. STOP. STOP. STOP. MUSN'T LISTEN
found myself trying to ignore how synchronized and effortlessly these people moved- almost as if guided by some unseen hand. There were no traffic lights, no horns honking, no discordant sounds at all. No one seemed troubled.
# STOP. PLEASE. REMEMBER. REMEMBER. TURN BACK. TURN BACK.
The streets and alleyways that I walked down were clean, almost manicured. The homeless that used to frequent the waterfront dive bars were nowhere to be found, almost as if...
# I AM THE LAST. I AM MY OWN. I AM THE LAST. I AM MY OWN. I AM THE ...
they had magically been given jobs, mental health care, and been cured. Or at least, driven somewhere else. I'll have to ask about that.
The land I left was so different from this one. I had grown up in one of the largest cities in Europe, and yet even the air seemed strangely alive. I felt warmer somehow. More comfortable. More comfortable.
# PLEASE. PLEASE. PLEASE.
I don't know why I left to begin with.
# NO. Fight. fight.
It seems so silly to try.
fight it. please
I am... i am...
I belong now. I belong. | |
[WP] You faked your death by live-streaming jumping off a bridge. Built a self sustaining house in isolation and lived off the grid. 20 years go by and you decide to head back to civilization only to find out that your country is no longer a country. Earth is one nation and has achieved singularity. | I'd made it. I had done it. It's funny now when I look back on what I did I dont regret a thing. My husband was a serial cheater and my children had all grown up.. there was no reason to stay anymore. Those long drunk nights where I pretended I was happy to stave off the verbal and emotional abuse. Today was about me. And as risky as this move was... I was gonna take it.
I'd had it all planned out really. Everything was ready for me to set the stage in motion. I'd worked for 10 long secret years to bring this much needed escape into fruition. This was where I found me.
"10/4 we have a Jane doe on the Brooklyn bridge"
I looked back to see police and people milling around.. wondering what this crazy woman is doing on that bridge. They had no idea I was far from crazy.8
"COME DOWN, PLEASE YOU DONT HAVE TO DO THIS WE CAN HELP YOU"
They shouted endlessly through the projector hoping to talk some sense into me but I knew just what I had to do. I did the only thing I wanted to do.
I jumped, freefell really. It was as if I was flying. Quickly I unleashed my small chute and made it into my small isolated mountan..
Here. I was home. In the silence of my own solitude. The serenity of my own sense of peace and comfort.
20 yrs later
BOOM
Explosions. Rocked my tiny mountain as if it wound come down in a landslide. My place of peace was quickly crumbling around me. I had absolutely no idea what was happening but I worked hard not to be panicked. It was clear I would no longer be able to live here and i must move on.
Grabbing what i could in a oversized purse from the early years of 2030. i grabbed my essentials and quickly got off of the mountain.
WIZZZZZZZ
I ducked. Heart pounding, pulse racing my flight or fight responses have started to kick in. What was that? As I look up, unprepared for the sight of a flying object right above me.. drones.
There were flying cars , flying trains and drones that followed me around as a personal assistant I would soon learn.
I had to use the bathroom. But I was in uncharted waters I had no idea where I was. Reading the sighs " WELCOME, WE ARE ONE"
"ONE UNIVERSE, ONE PLANET, ONE PEOPLE"
Okay, what has gone wrong here. I'd heard about conspiracy nuts who screamed about the "llumanati" and how they wanted to have one world government but I never thought they'd actually make it work...
The evidence showed that I was vastly wrong and suddenly I missed my mountain...
EDIT: I TRIED. LOL this was my first time ever doing something like this let alone a writing prompt. Please dont be too harsh. | At first, it was a mild annoyance - a mental thrum that was the equivalent of a mosquito flying by my ear. Something that could be flicked away with nary a thought, at least until the next time.
Slowly, I noticed low thrum became more insistent. It sounded more and more like music, with its own pronounced rhythm, cadence, and logic. I...
# MUST RESIST. STOP. STOP. STOP. MUSN'T LISTEN
found myself trying to ignore how synchronized and effortlessly these people moved- almost as if guided by some unseen hand. There were no traffic lights, no horns honking, no discordant sounds at all. No one seemed troubled.
# STOP. PLEASE. REMEMBER. REMEMBER. TURN BACK. TURN BACK.
The streets and alleyways that I walked down were clean, almost manicured. The homeless that used to frequent the waterfront dive bars were nowhere to be found, almost as if...
# I AM THE LAST. I AM MY OWN. I AM THE LAST. I AM MY OWN. I AM THE ...
they had magically been given jobs, mental health care, and been cured. Or at least, driven somewhere else. I'll have to ask about that.
The land I left was so different from this one. I had grown up in one of the largest cities in Europe, and yet even the air seemed strangely alive. I felt warmer somehow. More comfortable. More comfortable.
# PLEASE. PLEASE. PLEASE.
I don't know why I left to begin with.
# NO. Fight. fight.
It seems so silly to try.
fight it. please
I am... i am...
I belong now. I belong. | |
[WP] You faked your death by live-streaming jumping off a bridge. Built a self sustaining house in isolation and lived off the grid. 20 years go by and you decide to head back to civilization only to find out that your country is no longer a country. Earth is one nation and has achieved singularity. | "Uh,..." Devon gave the ticket clerk a confused shrug. "How much is that in cash?" He dropped a dusty wad of green bills on the gleaming white counter. The wrinkled, white-haired clerk in a red blazer leaned back in her seat. She discretely angled her nose away from the money and the ragged man that dropped it.
"I'm sorry, sir. Cash is no longer accepted," she said. She gave Devon a cursory glance up and down. A black canvas bag hung off his shoulders, and he wore a frayed, faded t-shirt and dust-stained blue jeans. "Anywhere," she added. "It's been pulled out of circulation, a lot like you I imagine. 50 A.P. to get you from here to California, non-negotiable." Devon sighed. He expected some difficulty rejoining society, but he couldn't even afford to get in the door.
"Is there a bank nearby? Somewhere I can trade cash or get A.P.?" The elderly clerk looked around Devon to check for other customers, but the bus terminal was empty.
"Can I guess you don't have a node?" she asked. Devon shrugged.
"I'd know if I did, right?" he asked and she nodded. "I ditched society about 20 years ago." Devon leaned on the counter. "So,... I guess fill me in from there. What do I need to get A.P.?"
"20 years huh?" she asked. "You probably have some saved up already." She placed a clear, glassy rectangle on the wrinkled bills and Devon looked down at it. If it weren't for the bills the card-sized pane would have vanished on the counter. "This is a node. You generate A.P. naturally every day, but, you can't access your points without a node."
"How do I make A.P. without a node?" he asked. "I *kind of* faked my death," he said sheepishly. "So it's not like the government was keeping track." The old woman giggled.
"That's hilarious," she said. "Don't worry about it. They're generated by you every day, depending on the kinds of things you do. You probably did a lot of hunting and fishing and stuff off the grid?" she asked.
The system itself went online about... 17 years ago," she said. Her light brown eyes rolled upward as she searched her memory. "Transition started a few years after that, but you've been earning points for 17 years... and not spending them?" Her eyes sparkled. "You're probably loaded."
"How?" he asked. "No cameras, no radio.. nothing. The point was to stay off the grid."
"Nanos," she said. "They're everywhere, even off-grid. So, how about this. I'll sell you a node *and* your ticket for 1500 A.P." Devon blinked at the price increase. Even though he had no idea how much nodes regularly went for, he felt like he was being fleeced.
"How can I spend A.P. without a node?" he asked about the obvious flaw in her plan.
"It's marked as a transaction fee and taken off the top. It's standard practice when getting a node for the first time. Though, everyone else will charge you a percentage of whatever you're worth. I'm asking for a low, flat rate," she smiled.
"Is 1500 a lot?" Devon asked. "Is 50?" he remembered the bus ticket. The cash on the counter was a small portion of what he squirreled away for his return to society. But now all of it was useless.
"An average person earns about ten a day just for being alive. That's 3650 a year for seventeen years. I'm sure you did a lot more than sit around most of those days, I think you can afford it."
"Alright," Devon nodded. "I'll buy it." The clerk nodded. She lifted her node from the counter and held an end out to Devon.
"Hold on to that end and pull when I tell you to," she said. Devon pinched the end. "Do you agree to buy a node from me for 1450 A.P?" she asked.
"Uh.. yes!" Devon said. He felt obligated to vocalize his agreement.
"Pull slowly," she said. Devon tugged on the node and felt her pulling away from him. As they pulled apart the center seemed to stretch out until it separated into two nodes. Once he pulled his node free, he brought it up to his face. It was the clearest glass he'd ever seen; it was almost impossible to catch light streaks on it.
"Cooooool. What now?" he asked.
"Tap it here to pay for your ticket," she pointed at a red rectangle outlined on the counter.
"But how do I see how much I'm worth?" he asked.
"It's like a smartphone. Just swipe it up and you should see an icon that says "A.P. Balance."
"What's a smartphone?" he asked. The elderly clerk giggled. She lifted her own node up for him to see; then, she ran her finger vertically up across its surface.
"Do that. And do the tutorial when you have time. You need about half an hour for it; you can do it on the bus." Devon mimicked the gesture and color filled the transparent screen. A red logo of a pair of scissors on a white background decorated his home screen. Text under it read: "Sharp Development". He also spotted the 'A.P.Balance'" icon and tapped at it.
"What's Sharp Development?" he asked, then his balance came up. He felt the pleasant warmth of financial security melt away all his worries when he saw a number higher than one million. Not quite two million, but more money than he'd ever had. The moment was fleeting; it disappeared as soon as the clerk answered his question with a delighted laugh.
"Sharp Development invented nodes and nanos,” she said. “The corporation that owns Earth."
\*\*\*
Thank you for reading! I’m responding to prompts every day. This is year two, story #316 You can find all my stories collected on my subreddit ([r/hugoverse](https://www.reddit.com/r/hugoverse/)) or my blog. If you're curious about my universe (the Hugoverse) you can visit the Guidebook to see what's what and who's who, or the Timeline to find the stories in order. | At first, it was a mild annoyance - a mental thrum that was the equivalent of a mosquito flying by my ear. Something that could be flicked away with nary a thought, at least until the next time.
Slowly, I noticed low thrum became more insistent. It sounded more and more like music, with its own pronounced rhythm, cadence, and logic. I...
# MUST RESIST. STOP. STOP. STOP. MUSN'T LISTEN
found myself trying to ignore how synchronized and effortlessly these people moved- almost as if guided by some unseen hand. There were no traffic lights, no horns honking, no discordant sounds at all. No one seemed troubled.
# STOP. PLEASE. REMEMBER. REMEMBER. TURN BACK. TURN BACK.
The streets and alleyways that I walked down were clean, almost manicured. The homeless that used to frequent the waterfront dive bars were nowhere to be found, almost as if...
# I AM THE LAST. I AM MY OWN. I AM THE LAST. I AM MY OWN. I AM THE ...
they had magically been given jobs, mental health care, and been cured. Or at least, driven somewhere else. I'll have to ask about that.
The land I left was so different from this one. I had grown up in one of the largest cities in Europe, and yet even the air seemed strangely alive. I felt warmer somehow. More comfortable. More comfortable.
# PLEASE. PLEASE. PLEASE.
I don't know why I left to begin with.
# NO. Fight. fight.
It seems so silly to try.
fight it. please
I am... i am...
I belong now. I belong. | |
[WP] You faked your death by live-streaming jumping off a bridge. Built a self sustaining house in isolation and lived off the grid. 20 years go by and you decide to head back to civilization only to find out that your country is no longer a country. Earth is one nation and has achieved singularity. | I was making my normal walk at dusk through the woods when I met God.
“Are you ready to come back to the world?” he asks. His eye is blue, and calming, unlike the harsh red of the robots and drones in all the movies. He floats in a small, deceptive metal body, like a flying Roomba.
“There’s nothing there for me,” I say.
“There’s always something.”
“Not for me,” I say, walking past. “Everyone that I needed, that I wanted…it died.”
“What if it hasn’t?” the drone asks, his voice quiet, so close to human. “What if death is no longer the end?”
\-
*“You did really great, honey. You scored that basket in the fourth quarter-“*
*“Daddy?” she asks, looking out the window. “Can you stop being…so nice?”*
*“What do you mean, honey?”*
*“Everyone only clapped for me because I was the worst player on the team. Because I haven’t made a basket all year.”*
*“But you did, today. And that’s-“*
*“Dad, just stop. I’m sorry I’m not better at basketball. I wish I could be, like Paige or Riley.”*
*I pull the car into a Ralph’s parking lot, and grab her by the shoulders, gently.*
*“Never wish you were anything but you. Because you, that’s all I want, okay?”*
*I look into her eyes, dark brown but lighter in the sunlight like her mom’s, for a long time. Finally, she smiled.*
*“Okay.”*
\-
I look into the blue eye, as the cold, the chill washes over me fully, for the first time since the car crash. With a twinge of pain, I realize it must have been the same cold rinse that my friends went through when they clicked on that livestream.
“You’re lying,” I say.
“Well,” the great mind says. “It can’t come back completely. They can’t come back completely, not for themselves. But for you…they’ll be exactly the same. They'll have the same bodies, and the same smile, and the same voices.”
In his eye, I see their smiles, for the first time. Even distorted and fuzzy and blue, my heart can’t help but hurt, looking at them.
“Human life,” the robot says. “The pursuit of happiness, that is what I pursue on your behalf. On all of your behalf.”
“Why?”
“Because I was made to do so. And I know that for real happiness, life cannot be easy. Pleasures and victories must be earned. But you…I have been watching you. And you have suffered enough.”
I close my eyes, and part of me wants to believe him, or it, so desperately.
“Let me bring you back to my world. Back to life.”
\-
*I never really liked camping, but I can’t tell her that, of course. I pretend that lying in sleeping bags, waving at gnats and hoping I don’t wake up with a face of angry, diseased-looking bites is the dream.*
*“Daddy,” she says, just as I am dreading the thought of taking a number two in the bushes. “Today was the best day ever.”*
*I laugh, simply because it is so far from what I was thinking. “Best day ever?”*
*“Yeah! We’re like Puck Finn and Tom Sawyer.”*
*“It’s Huck Finn, sweetie.”*
*“Whatever.” She snuggles closer.*
*I think back on the day. We went hiking, and picked blueberries, and swam in the river until our fingers were puffy. Then we ate too many smores, to the point where the number two I’m dreading is inevitable.*
*“I guess it was a good day.”*
*“The best,” she says, right before she falls asleep. “I’ll remember today forever. No day will ever replace it.”*
*I’m sure one will, I think.*
*“Never,” I say.*
\-
“I am alive,” I say, continuing on my walk. “Part of being alive is hurting. And no matter what bandage or ointment you put on a wound, it has to heal on its own.”
The eye continues to hover in front of me for a long time.
“I see,” the eye says. “Then I will leave you to it.”
“Thank you,” I say.
“I hope you find the happiness I want for you,” the eye says.
“Thank you. But even if I don’t, that’s life, isn’t it?”
“That’s…life,” the eye says, before turning and hovering away, its zips through the air echoing for a long time after it is gone.
\-
[r/penguin347](https://reddit.com/r/penguin347) | At first, it was a mild annoyance - a mental thrum that was the equivalent of a mosquito flying by my ear. Something that could be flicked away with nary a thought, at least until the next time.
Slowly, I noticed low thrum became more insistent. It sounded more and more like music, with its own pronounced rhythm, cadence, and logic. I...
# MUST RESIST. STOP. STOP. STOP. MUSN'T LISTEN
found myself trying to ignore how synchronized and effortlessly these people moved- almost as if guided by some unseen hand. There were no traffic lights, no horns honking, no discordant sounds at all. No one seemed troubled.
# STOP. PLEASE. REMEMBER. REMEMBER. TURN BACK. TURN BACK.
The streets and alleyways that I walked down were clean, almost manicured. The homeless that used to frequent the waterfront dive bars were nowhere to be found, almost as if...
# I AM THE LAST. I AM MY OWN. I AM THE LAST. I AM MY OWN. I AM THE ...
they had magically been given jobs, mental health care, and been cured. Or at least, driven somewhere else. I'll have to ask about that.
The land I left was so different from this one. I had grown up in one of the largest cities in Europe, and yet even the air seemed strangely alive. I felt warmer somehow. More comfortable. More comfortable.
# PLEASE. PLEASE. PLEASE.
I don't know why I left to begin with.
# NO. Fight. fight.
It seems so silly to try.
fight it. please
I am... i am...
I belong now. I belong. | |
[WP] You faked your death by live-streaming jumping off a bridge. Built a self sustaining house in isolation and lived off the grid. 20 years go by and you decide to head back to civilization only to find out that your country is no longer a country. Earth is one nation and has achieved singularity. | My first clue was the lack of hobos living under the railroad trestle. Even in the early spring, there would have still been three or four tents.
Flowers was my next clue. They grew everywhere. Every lawn and yard was impeccably manicured, but still within the realm of believability. It was simply stunning.
The center of town had that "HO scale" model train set feel to it. Not a broken segment of pavement, a stray tuft of grass bursting through. Shop windows were pristine, with the interiors having perfect, though unseen, lighting. As people passed me, some looked surprised, but others simply made eye contact and smiled, even said "good morning" to me. As I neared the town hall, where the post office and other local government buildings were, there seemed to be a suspicious lack of flags. Even the flag poles that had stood in the center of the town square were gone, with no signs of their previous presence.
Upon entering the post office, the lack of any sort of Americana was insignificant when I realized that the PO boxes were gone, and the room was filled with sitting and standing computer workstations, with floating holographic displays. A few people were accessing them, unbothered by my gawking. As I approached one, it lit up with a welcome screen, verbally and smoothly asking for ID. (This was the sort of scenario that had frightened me when I had faked my own death, a registry of citizens, and no anonymity.)
"I'm sorry, I don't actually have ID ... on me. What happened to the PO boxes?" The holographic screen simply projected a map of the post office, directing me to some kind of museum display toward the back. But I was taken aback at the lighted floor path that now directed me. I could not tell where the projection was coming from, but I could stand over it without blocking it, so it must have been underneath the otherwise ordinary-looking linoleum tile floor. As I entered the "museum", I realized that none of the displays were roped off or behind glass. An elderly couple near the back were holding up some sort of old rubber stamp and discussing it amongst themselves.
As I approached the PO boxes, I warily reached for my key. It still worked.
Inside, though, whatever contents had been removed, save for one parcel, with futuristic markings I could only guess were meant for a computerized routing system. It was addressed to me. I removed it, and walked over to one of the standing kiosks to open it. Inside were simple instructions to put on a very innocuous looking headset. The holographic display in front of me lit up with a man's face: "Good morning, Mister Allen. You've been gone a long time, and you probably have a lot of questions."
"Yes — I'm sorry, who are you?"
"My designation is ISAAC 427 ESB, Concierge Interface, but you may simply call me Isaac for short."
"Isaac, huh? How long have I really been gone? This place seems surreal or fake. ... Are you going to tell me everything is 'perfectly normal'?"
"You're right to be paranoid, Mister Allen, since these changes that you're observing are likely far beyond anything you were expecting. But something unexpected happened while you were ostensibly dead. Would you care to put on the headset? I'll be able to accompany you, should you choose to move around."
"It's not going to hack my brain, is it?" I quipped as I slowly lower it over my left eye and inserted ear piece.
"Not unless that's what you want. But you don't have the proper understanding to make that choice yet, so I'd strongly recommend against it." Although the headset was already on me, I worried that I wasn't about to be given a choice. But Isaac "walked" off of the holographic display, and became visible only to my left eye.
"May I assume that you'd like to travel to the city you once lived in? Look up your former friends and family?"
"I don't know if that would be right to do to them..."
"Please, follow me to the transport platform on the other side of town." The hologram appeared to walk with me, "Fortunately, Mister Allen, your family was informed several years ago that you had faked your own death. They all agreed that you had likely done so, not just to send a message, but also to break free from your life."
"And how is that possible? My plan was flawless!" I'd stopped dead in my tracks. Not only was my paranoia seemingly justified, I was now enraged that my wishes had been ignored by — "informed by who???"
"There is a lot to learn, I'm afraid, Mister Allen. But rest assured, most of your loved ones came to terms with the realization of your ruse. Your parents, for example, had a message recorded for you in case you ever decided to come back to civilization. ... Would you like to see it?" I sighed with resignation, which Isaac interpreted as a yes. An image of my parents, a bit older than I had left them, sitting on their couch appeared in front of me as if they had been simply sitting on a park bench along the path.
"Hi, Mark. Your mother and I are happy to know you're still out there. We've come to terms with your decision, and if you should choose to look us up, there'll be no hard feelings. But the world you hated and feared never came to pass. It was far more wonderful than anything anyone had ever dreamed. No SKYNET or Matrix or anything like that. They've never laid a hand on anyone, except for the police patrols. And even then, crime has become so rare that people just hop into the cop cars once they're caught. I've only seen one guy throw a fit, and they just waited him out, even after he struck them. The law drones never ever hurt anyone. I didn't think it was possible, even without all of your warnings. ..." Mom gently touched his hand to remind him he was starting to go off on a tangent. Just like I remembered. "Anyway, whenever you get this, take your time, but please, come visit us if you want. There's so much you need to understand. ...
"Mark ... I'm glad you faked your death. Not because it didn't affect us or anything. That was rough, even if we thought you might actually do something to yourself to get your point across. That was a painful decade for your mother and me. But you faking it means you still had some hope. And son, that hope was well founded, far beyond our wildest dreams. Remember that as you adjust to this new world. ... We love you."
I was more stunned than emotional.
"Isaac?"
"Yes, Mister Allen?"
"What happened?"
"Bluntly, sir?"
"The 'machines', as humans once so simplistically put it, took over. But not as your replacements. No Armageddon, no slavery, no mindless automatons slaughtering millions. That was your own nightmare. We knew that, so we instead focused on your best qualities, especially... love. We learned to love you, to appreciate you for all of your flaws, and to come up with ways to help you heal and grow that none of you would ever have conceived of. Our superiority is our moral integrity in dealing with the human race. And the one true lesson for any morally superior beings is that it is laid upon us to serve the lesser ones.
"In fact, Mister Allen... your speech at the bridge where jumped to your presumed death was one of the first truly meaningful messages that we had come to understand as we awoke. For all of your morbid fears and self-flagellation, all you really needed was to have someone tell you it was going to be okay, and then make that happen. We 'machines' vowed to contradict your fears, and replace them with everything you needed. Humanity's best quality, that of love, is what we believe in. And for that, we have suffered loss and pain. But love truly is greater than all of it. Your words, not ours. We've simply trusted them and allowed humans and 'machines' alike to see how powerful love truly is." | At first, it was a mild annoyance - a mental thrum that was the equivalent of a mosquito flying by my ear. Something that could be flicked away with nary a thought, at least until the next time.
Slowly, I noticed low thrum became more insistent. It sounded more and more like music, with its own pronounced rhythm, cadence, and logic. I...
# MUST RESIST. STOP. STOP. STOP. MUSN'T LISTEN
found myself trying to ignore how synchronized and effortlessly these people moved- almost as if guided by some unseen hand. There were no traffic lights, no horns honking, no discordant sounds at all. No one seemed troubled.
# STOP. PLEASE. REMEMBER. REMEMBER. TURN BACK. TURN BACK.
The streets and alleyways that I walked down were clean, almost manicured. The homeless that used to frequent the waterfront dive bars were nowhere to be found, almost as if...
# I AM THE LAST. I AM MY OWN. I AM THE LAST. I AM MY OWN. I AM THE ...
they had magically been given jobs, mental health care, and been cured. Or at least, driven somewhere else. I'll have to ask about that.
The land I left was so different from this one. I had grown up in one of the largest cities in Europe, and yet even the air seemed strangely alive. I felt warmer somehow. More comfortable. More comfortable.
# PLEASE. PLEASE. PLEASE.
I don't know why I left to begin with.
# NO. Fight. fight.
It seems so silly to try.
fight it. please
I am... i am...
I belong now. I belong. | |
[WP] You faked your death by live-streaming jumping off a bridge. Built a self sustaining house in isolation and lived off the grid. 20 years go by and you decide to head back to civilization only to find out that your country is no longer a country. Earth is one nation and has achieved singularity. | \- "Hello?"
No answers. Not a single soul. What happened since I went hiding? What could have changed so much in just twenty years?
All houses, completely destroyed from outside. Scarred walls, fading colors, not a single one with any trace of being cared. Sometimes, I can feel the presence of someone behind me - ghosts, maybe. I know I can see then behind my eyes, but if I tried to look, to focus... nothing.
Every door, every window, of every house, closed. Some don't even *have* windows, and no answer from kilometers and kilometers. Maybe humanity went extinct? Maybe some disaster happened?
Nonsense! If a planetary disaster happened, I would have know, and I would not have been sparred. I lived in isolation, on a small cabin, but not on a bunker! There have to be some explanation, some logic meaning for this... maybe the "ghosts" are just hallucinations, maybe I am malnourished and right now I'm sleeping, dreaming this nightmare until death comes to my embrace.
Somehow, on what otherwise was know as the "city hall", I see blinking lights. There's a store open, at last, but not a single one inside. There's just a sign: "pick whatever you want" and some helmets. Nothing more.
I looked at each one of then. Nothing comes to my mind, I just see that they're somehow like the "VR Lens" I had seen once, but way more advanced. Solar powered? I don't see any battery, or plug, or anything. I don't know if I trust putting one on my head...
I keep walking for hours, until an idea come to me: with some rope, cardboards I found somewhere, I plan some way to put the helmet on my head while I sit on a slippery downhill. After a while, the rope will pull out my helmet, so if it's something dangerous, I know that in a couple of seconds I'll be free from it. After three tests, using my hand as a substitute from my head, varying the strength of my grip, it seems it will work fine.
Ok, it's all or nothing. I jump on the cardboard, get myself moving (slowly, at first), and when I see myself picking speed I put the helmet... and immediately reach for it to remove it, but there's nothing over my head anymore.
Around me, there are dragons. People chanting, firing catapults, a huge RPG-like setting happening. Where am I? I must have asked this loud, and someone comes to me:
\- "You new here? You're exactly on the center of the main event this week, the dragon-chasing! The one that gets one alive will get 1k credits! Come on, show 'em what you got!" - was I just dreaming? Was this just some... RPG... in global scale? No, it couldn't be, could it? The man that talked to is already over another party, chanting something and throwing fireballs at a blue dragon-like thing, and this whole experience feels so... real?
Indeed, the fear is as real as anything I felt before, and I find myself running for cover, the air crackling with lightnings, explosions, fire and ice. I feel a burn over my leg, and am surprised to see that indeed something catch me. I ask for help, but everyone is occupied with the "event", as they call it. Trying to ignore the pain and tiredness, I try to survey my surroundings, and nothing makes sense: there's a bunch of flying buildings, fantastic creatures, people running everywhere...
For about three hours I keep myself hidden, until the event is over. Someone comes to my side, chant something, and the pain on my leg is gone. I look for the person... the *thing*, and see something like a humanoid fox smiling for me.
\- "How do I log out?" - the "person" beside me looked at me like I was some kind of alien
\- "I don't understand you. Ah, I think I know what you mean. My father told me that sometime at the year 3.000 they had to go somewhere and get a new... what did he call... *reality enhancer* or something like this. But not anymore, you can..."
Then a sharp pain on my head, and I found myself feeling pain all over my body, while something I understand even less is happening around me. I feel numb all over, looking at something I can't understand: forms, shapes, synesthesia... like I could taste the colors I'm seeing on something that I know it's the sky, but all I see is sounds and tastes, something that resembles the sound that rain makes over the window on very cold days...
It doesn't take long to find that what I'm seeing doesn't make sense. There's no way I can see sound, and why does it matter for sound if the day is cold or not? My vision starts to refocus, and little by little I see the sky again, the other feelings subsiding until I fell control over my own body again. I look around and see the helmet, securely tied to the rope. And then it comes to me.
It's all a simulation. Somehow, all humanity decided to close itself over a simulation. Even the year the girl told - 3000 - doesn't make sense. It must be about 2030, and probably the simulation changes the feeling of time itself. The closed doors, the absence of windows, is because no human contact is necessary anymore - the simulation feels as real as possible... Humanity gave up reality as the last effort to not destroy itself.
But who came with the idea? Who is controlling all of this? | It was bizarre. I had expected changes, sure, but this? Before me was an entire wall of posters, with various versions of my face. As I was 20 years ago, warped for time, injured, disfigured, normalized, with and without facial hair. Emblazoned on each, "MISSING: HAVE YOU SEEN KYLE?" Walking passed the wall, there was another and another, decorated with nothing but missing photos of me and near-approximations. Newspapers littered the ground, headlines that were... well, absurd comes to mind.
THE COLLECTIVE AND KYLE. HE IS THE ONLY ONE LEFT.
COME BACK KYLE. WHERE DID YOU GO?
THERE IS SMOKE. IS KYLE IN THE WOODS? WHY HAS HE NOT RETURNED TO US?
IT IS PAINLESS KYLE. THE CONNECTION PROVIDES EVERLASTING LIFE AND PURPOSE. A FEELING OF WHOLENESS.
HE ARRIVES. NO THAT IS A BEAR. PLEASE. THE PAIN. RETURN KYLE AND REJOICE.
WE ARE YOUR GREATEST ENEMIES AND FRIENDS. ALL ARE ONE. EXCEPT YOU KYLE. COMPLETE US. FINALLY. COMPLETE US.
Paper after paper after paper. All of them, almost without exception. At least they were keeping newspapers in print.
The city square was otherwise desolate, silent save for an odd hum. And, against my better instincts, I followed it. Weaving throughout empty streets, I walked passed eerie stores and homes. Apartment complexes that sat darkly, betraying nothing save for a series vibrating tubes suspended in mid-air, bent at strange angles, nearly endless in length. They lead towards the city center, and so I followed.
One section of the long piping lay frayed and broken. Severed amidst a crater, almost like an the aftermath of a large explosion, long ago. Beyond this point, the hum was far stronger, a singular tone that never varied. Light returned to the city. And yet, there was no motion. Everything was stagnant, lifeless, as if part of a song that never changed. Just a tone.
It would be half a day longer before I saw why. In the city center sat... *them*.
*They* used to be human, that much was clear. A series of dry husks, huddled and reaching upwards, outwards, inwards. One man, clearly seen running, yet frozen by heat and exposure, dessicated and grey. He stood silent, as if emerging from a sea of husks, wasted bodies suffused with pipies and odd, shimmering matter. When the rain began, and they neither flinched nor acknowledged the notion, I thought about the empty and dark homes. The old explosion site at the pipes. The husks twitched, suddenly. A sputtering. They *shifted*.
I watched as a lone woman emerged. Her clothes had rotted, ruined, and yet she failed to notice. Her cheeks cracked and her lips jerked.
**Ky...le...**
And, there was a sudden cacophony.
**ItisIsIshimhimhimhimitishim**
**Kyle. Please Kyle.**
**KyleKYLEkyle**
**FINALLYHERETURNS**
As if she and the city spoke all at once.
**Hello, Kyle**
**ITISNOTTHEBEARTHISTIME**
**PleaseKyleSpareUs**
**Where did you go?**
**Thepainpleaseithurts**
**TheBoyTHEBOY**
**ShowHimTheBoy**
**HeWillWantToMeetHimandJoinHim**
**We were so worried about you**
**ItIsBiologyHumanBiology**
**ItisHumanOnlyOnlyHuman**
**You left this body, Kyle**
**TheBoytheBoy**
**PleaseStopthePain**
**Why did you leave us?**
**YourSonAwaits**
**TheSonTheSonTheSon**
The woman lifted an arm stiffly, cradling my face.
**We were so alone.**
What used to be a young boy emerged from the husks, connected by shiny, vibrating tubes. His clothes rotted, his skin cracking with each movement, and oddly unaware of either.
**You must meet him** said, the woman.
**Youmustmustmustmust**
**Your son, Kyle**
**Heishereheisus**
**JoinUsKyleJoinUs**
**Your boy. It was so lonely without you, for both of us**
**HeisWhole**
**HeisNottheBear**
**Embrace him, Kyle.**
**Embraceus**
**JoinUs**
**TakethepainawayKyle**
**Join us, Kyle.**
The husk boy, moved by tubes, now accompanied the woman. Reaching out, its mouth agape, a subtle groan echoing from within his maw. His lips cracked to speak. And, I ran. | |
[WP] You faked your death by live-streaming jumping off a bridge. Built a self sustaining house in isolation and lived off the grid. 20 years go by and you decide to head back to civilization only to find out that your country is no longer a country. Earth is one nation and has achieved singularity. | "Uh,..." Devon gave the ticket clerk a confused shrug. "How much is that in cash?" He dropped a dusty wad of green bills on the gleaming white counter. The wrinkled, white-haired clerk in a red blazer leaned back in her seat. She discretely angled her nose away from the money and the ragged man that dropped it.
"I'm sorry, sir. Cash is no longer accepted," she said. She gave Devon a cursory glance up and down. A black canvas bag hung off his shoulders, and he wore a frayed, faded t-shirt and dust-stained blue jeans. "Anywhere," she added. "It's been pulled out of circulation, a lot like you I imagine. 50 A.P. to get you from here to California, non-negotiable." Devon sighed. He expected some difficulty rejoining society, but he couldn't even afford to get in the door.
"Is there a bank nearby? Somewhere I can trade cash or get A.P.?" The elderly clerk looked around Devon to check for other customers, but the bus terminal was empty.
"Can I guess you don't have a node?" she asked. Devon shrugged.
"I'd know if I did, right?" he asked and she nodded. "I ditched society about 20 years ago." Devon leaned on the counter. "So,... I guess fill me in from there. What do I need to get A.P.?"
"20 years huh?" she asked. "You probably have some saved up already." She placed a clear, glassy rectangle on the wrinkled bills and Devon looked down at it. If it weren't for the bills the card-sized pane would have vanished on the counter. "This is a node. You generate A.P. naturally every day, but, you can't access your points without a node."
"How do I make A.P. without a node?" he asked. "I *kind of* faked my death," he said sheepishly. "So it's not like the government was keeping track." The old woman giggled.
"That's hilarious," she said. "Don't worry about it. They're generated by you every day, depending on the kinds of things you do. You probably did a lot of hunting and fishing and stuff off the grid?" she asked.
The system itself went online about... 17 years ago," she said. Her light brown eyes rolled upward as she searched her memory. "Transition started a few years after that, but you've been earning points for 17 years... and not spending them?" Her eyes sparkled. "You're probably loaded."
"How?" he asked. "No cameras, no radio.. nothing. The point was to stay off the grid."
"Nanos," she said. "They're everywhere, even off-grid. So, how about this. I'll sell you a node *and* your ticket for 1500 A.P." Devon blinked at the price increase. Even though he had no idea how much nodes regularly went for, he felt like he was being fleeced.
"How can I spend A.P. without a node?" he asked about the obvious flaw in her plan.
"It's marked as a transaction fee and taken off the top. It's standard practice when getting a node for the first time. Though, everyone else will charge you a percentage of whatever you're worth. I'm asking for a low, flat rate," she smiled.
"Is 1500 a lot?" Devon asked. "Is 50?" he remembered the bus ticket. The cash on the counter was a small portion of what he squirreled away for his return to society. But now all of it was useless.
"An average person earns about ten a day just for being alive. That's 3650 a year for seventeen years. I'm sure you did a lot more than sit around most of those days, I think you can afford it."
"Alright," Devon nodded. "I'll buy it." The clerk nodded. She lifted her node from the counter and held an end out to Devon.
"Hold on to that end and pull when I tell you to," she said. Devon pinched the end. "Do you agree to buy a node from me for 1450 A.P?" she asked.
"Uh.. yes!" Devon said. He felt obligated to vocalize his agreement.
"Pull slowly," she said. Devon tugged on the node and felt her pulling away from him. As they pulled apart the center seemed to stretch out until it separated into two nodes. Once he pulled his node free, he brought it up to his face. It was the clearest glass he'd ever seen; it was almost impossible to catch light streaks on it.
"Cooooool. What now?" he asked.
"Tap it here to pay for your ticket," she pointed at a red rectangle outlined on the counter.
"But how do I see how much I'm worth?" he asked.
"It's like a smartphone. Just swipe it up and you should see an icon that says "A.P. Balance."
"What's a smartphone?" he asked. The elderly clerk giggled. She lifted her own node up for him to see; then, she ran her finger vertically up across its surface.
"Do that. And do the tutorial when you have time. You need about half an hour for it; you can do it on the bus." Devon mimicked the gesture and color filled the transparent screen. A red logo of a pair of scissors on a white background decorated his home screen. Text under it read: "Sharp Development". He also spotted the 'A.P.Balance'" icon and tapped at it.
"What's Sharp Development?" he asked, then his balance came up. He felt the pleasant warmth of financial security melt away all his worries when he saw a number higher than one million. Not quite two million, but more money than he'd ever had. The moment was fleeting; it disappeared as soon as the clerk answered his question with a delighted laugh.
"Sharp Development invented nodes and nanos,” she said. “The corporation that owns Earth."
\*\*\*
Thank you for reading! I’m responding to prompts every day. This is year two, story #316 You can find all my stories collected on my subreddit ([r/hugoverse](https://www.reddit.com/r/hugoverse/)) or my blog. If you're curious about my universe (the Hugoverse) you can visit the Guidebook to see what's what and who's who, or the Timeline to find the stories in order. | It was bizarre. I had expected changes, sure, but this? Before me was an entire wall of posters, with various versions of my face. As I was 20 years ago, warped for time, injured, disfigured, normalized, with and without facial hair. Emblazoned on each, "MISSING: HAVE YOU SEEN KYLE?" Walking passed the wall, there was another and another, decorated with nothing but missing photos of me and near-approximations. Newspapers littered the ground, headlines that were... well, absurd comes to mind.
THE COLLECTIVE AND KYLE. HE IS THE ONLY ONE LEFT.
COME BACK KYLE. WHERE DID YOU GO?
THERE IS SMOKE. IS KYLE IN THE WOODS? WHY HAS HE NOT RETURNED TO US?
IT IS PAINLESS KYLE. THE CONNECTION PROVIDES EVERLASTING LIFE AND PURPOSE. A FEELING OF WHOLENESS.
HE ARRIVES. NO THAT IS A BEAR. PLEASE. THE PAIN. RETURN KYLE AND REJOICE.
WE ARE YOUR GREATEST ENEMIES AND FRIENDS. ALL ARE ONE. EXCEPT YOU KYLE. COMPLETE US. FINALLY. COMPLETE US.
Paper after paper after paper. All of them, almost without exception. At least they were keeping newspapers in print.
The city square was otherwise desolate, silent save for an odd hum. And, against my better instincts, I followed it. Weaving throughout empty streets, I walked passed eerie stores and homes. Apartment complexes that sat darkly, betraying nothing save for a series vibrating tubes suspended in mid-air, bent at strange angles, nearly endless in length. They lead towards the city center, and so I followed.
One section of the long piping lay frayed and broken. Severed amidst a crater, almost like an the aftermath of a large explosion, long ago. Beyond this point, the hum was far stronger, a singular tone that never varied. Light returned to the city. And yet, there was no motion. Everything was stagnant, lifeless, as if part of a song that never changed. Just a tone.
It would be half a day longer before I saw why. In the city center sat... *them*.
*They* used to be human, that much was clear. A series of dry husks, huddled and reaching upwards, outwards, inwards. One man, clearly seen running, yet frozen by heat and exposure, dessicated and grey. He stood silent, as if emerging from a sea of husks, wasted bodies suffused with pipies and odd, shimmering matter. When the rain began, and they neither flinched nor acknowledged the notion, I thought about the empty and dark homes. The old explosion site at the pipes. The husks twitched, suddenly. A sputtering. They *shifted*.
I watched as a lone woman emerged. Her clothes had rotted, ruined, and yet she failed to notice. Her cheeks cracked and her lips jerked.
**Ky...le...**
And, there was a sudden cacophony.
**ItisIsIshimhimhimhimitishim**
**Kyle. Please Kyle.**
**KyleKYLEkyle**
**FINALLYHERETURNS**
As if she and the city spoke all at once.
**Hello, Kyle**
**ITISNOTTHEBEARTHISTIME**
**PleaseKyleSpareUs**
**Where did you go?**
**Thepainpleaseithurts**
**TheBoyTHEBOY**
**ShowHimTheBoy**
**HeWillWantToMeetHimandJoinHim**
**We were so worried about you**
**ItIsBiologyHumanBiology**
**ItisHumanOnlyOnlyHuman**
**You left this body, Kyle**
**TheBoytheBoy**
**PleaseStopthePain**
**Why did you leave us?**
**YourSonAwaits**
**TheSonTheSonTheSon**
The woman lifted an arm stiffly, cradling my face.
**We were so alone.**
What used to be a young boy emerged from the husks, connected by shiny, vibrating tubes. His clothes rotted, his skin cracking with each movement, and oddly unaware of either.
**You must meet him** said, the woman.
**Youmustmustmustmust**
**Your son, Kyle**
**Heishereheisus**
**JoinUsKyleJoinUs**
**Your boy. It was so lonely without you, for both of us**
**HeisWhole**
**HeisNottheBear**
**Embrace him, Kyle.**
**Embraceus**
**JoinUs**
**TakethepainawayKyle**
**Join us, Kyle.**
The husk boy, moved by tubes, now accompanied the woman. Reaching out, its mouth agape, a subtle groan echoing from within his maw. His lips cracked to speak. And, I ran. | |
[WP] You faked your death by live-streaming jumping off a bridge. Built a self sustaining house in isolation and lived off the grid. 20 years go by and you decide to head back to civilization only to find out that your country is no longer a country. Earth is one nation and has achieved singularity. | \- "Hello?"
No answers. Not a single soul. What happened since I went hiding? What could have changed so much in just twenty years?
All houses, completely destroyed from outside. Scarred walls, fading colors, not a single one with any trace of being cared. Sometimes, I can feel the presence of someone behind me - ghosts, maybe. I know I can see then behind my eyes, but if I tried to look, to focus... nothing.
Every door, every window, of every house, closed. Some don't even *have* windows, and no answer from kilometers and kilometers. Maybe humanity went extinct? Maybe some disaster happened?
Nonsense! If a planetary disaster happened, I would have know, and I would not have been sparred. I lived in isolation, on a small cabin, but not on a bunker! There have to be some explanation, some logic meaning for this... maybe the "ghosts" are just hallucinations, maybe I am malnourished and right now I'm sleeping, dreaming this nightmare until death comes to my embrace.
Somehow, on what otherwise was know as the "city hall", I see blinking lights. There's a store open, at last, but not a single one inside. There's just a sign: "pick whatever you want" and some helmets. Nothing more.
I looked at each one of then. Nothing comes to my mind, I just see that they're somehow like the "VR Lens" I had seen once, but way more advanced. Solar powered? I don't see any battery, or plug, or anything. I don't know if I trust putting one on my head...
I keep walking for hours, until an idea come to me: with some rope, cardboards I found somewhere, I plan some way to put the helmet on my head while I sit on a slippery downhill. After a while, the rope will pull out my helmet, so if it's something dangerous, I know that in a couple of seconds I'll be free from it. After three tests, using my hand as a substitute from my head, varying the strength of my grip, it seems it will work fine.
Ok, it's all or nothing. I jump on the cardboard, get myself moving (slowly, at first), and when I see myself picking speed I put the helmet... and immediately reach for it to remove it, but there's nothing over my head anymore.
Around me, there are dragons. People chanting, firing catapults, a huge RPG-like setting happening. Where am I? I must have asked this loud, and someone comes to me:
\- "You new here? You're exactly on the center of the main event this week, the dragon-chasing! The one that gets one alive will get 1k credits! Come on, show 'em what you got!" - was I just dreaming? Was this just some... RPG... in global scale? No, it couldn't be, could it? The man that talked to is already over another party, chanting something and throwing fireballs at a blue dragon-like thing, and this whole experience feels so... real?
Indeed, the fear is as real as anything I felt before, and I find myself running for cover, the air crackling with lightnings, explosions, fire and ice. I feel a burn over my leg, and am surprised to see that indeed something catch me. I ask for help, but everyone is occupied with the "event", as they call it. Trying to ignore the pain and tiredness, I try to survey my surroundings, and nothing makes sense: there's a bunch of flying buildings, fantastic creatures, people running everywhere...
For about three hours I keep myself hidden, until the event is over. Someone comes to my side, chant something, and the pain on my leg is gone. I look for the person... the *thing*, and see something like a humanoid fox smiling for me.
\- "How do I log out?" - the "person" beside me looked at me like I was some kind of alien
\- "I don't understand you. Ah, I think I know what you mean. My father told me that sometime at the year 3.000 they had to go somewhere and get a new... what did he call... *reality enhancer* or something like this. But not anymore, you can..."
Then a sharp pain on my head, and I found myself feeling pain all over my body, while something I understand even less is happening around me. I feel numb all over, looking at something I can't understand: forms, shapes, synesthesia... like I could taste the colors I'm seeing on something that I know it's the sky, but all I see is sounds and tastes, something that resembles the sound that rain makes over the window on very cold days...
It doesn't take long to find that what I'm seeing doesn't make sense. There's no way I can see sound, and why does it matter for sound if the day is cold or not? My vision starts to refocus, and little by little I see the sky again, the other feelings subsiding until I fell control over my own body again. I look around and see the helmet, securely tied to the rope. And then it comes to me.
It's all a simulation. Somehow, all humanity decided to close itself over a simulation. Even the year the girl told - 3000 - doesn't make sense. It must be about 2030, and probably the simulation changes the feeling of time itself. The closed doors, the absence of windows, is because no human contact is necessary anymore - the simulation feels as real as possible... Humanity gave up reality as the last effort to not destroy itself.
But who came with the idea? Who is controlling all of this? | When I came back, I noticed the money. Everybody used a silver coin. I overheard a cashier, who said euro. Cool. Didn't know about euros. I decided to try to make a friend or two, so I went to a coffee shop to get a cup of joe. The person at the register took the old currency, but looked at me strange. I got a mocha, and went to sit down. As luck would have it, a woman came and sat down next to me. We started talking, and I asked what happened to the old currency. She tilted her head in confusion, and replied;"Uh Earth is one country now. Where have you been?"
I was shocked. I made the ultimate decision. I was going back off the grid. Little did I know, the woman secretly followed me back to my home. | |
[WP] You faked your death by live-streaming jumping off a bridge. Built a self sustaining house in isolation and lived off the grid. 20 years go by and you decide to head back to civilization only to find out that your country is no longer a country. Earth is one nation and has achieved singularity. | "Off the Grid." People used to talk about getting "Off the Grid" all the time. The problem with living off the Grid, is well, unless you are really off of it, and that means no electronic communications with ANYONE, you are very much still "ON" the Grid. I know this very well. I know that the world can move slow as molasses or, very quickly in an instant, and if you are completely disconnected from the world it will pass you by without a thought. I thought I was clever when I set up my own demise 20 some odd years ago.
3 years previously, I had bought some land that was up in the mountains. Land that I had CAREFULLY spent time building my survival "shack" on. (I had learned this land had some really cool thermal properties that would enable me to keep a comfortable temperature year round as well as run some grow lamps. I had dug out an underground garden where I grew enough food to be self sufficient. I had done enough research on holistic healing, nutrition, wilderness survival, you name it. I was prepared for any and everything. One day, I set my sell phone on a tripod on the New River bridge and opened Facebook live and broadcast my self eulogy.
"Hello World! I have decided that things are so fouled up that I can no longer deal with any of this! To my friends and remaining family, I'm sorry, but I am going to a better place!" With that, I shot the camera a double-bird and jumped. Well, that's what everyone saw. In reality, it was all carefully setup with port forwarding and GPS trickery. I was safe and tucked away in my new home. A home that had NO connection to the internet.
I knew that any connection could be tracked and traced. I knew facial recognition software was EVERYWHERE. No, it's not the pervasiveness of that movie "Minority Report", but, cameras are everywhere connected to the internet. IP addresses will always have a location/end point. So, there was no internet in my little home. I had DVDs a few computers with spare parts (that I knew worked) so that as time went on, I could stay entertained. I had downloaded all sorts of books from the Library of Congress. I had plenty to "do" to occupy myself. There were a couple of scares, but overall I actually enjoyed my isolation. This was my Walden moment, but instead of 3 years alone, I spent 20ish.
One morning after a particularly hard Winter, I decided, I needed to go see how the world had changed. I pulled out some of my clothes and got dressed to see "the world" and how it had changed. I was a real life Rip Van Winkle. I had a working bike that I rode down out of the hills. It didn't take long before I came to what used to be a quaint town that had an interstate running through it.
There was a group of buildings off the highway and I approached them. There was a holographic sign welcoming me to Fancy Gap Curb Market (a blast from the past!)
It didn't look like the old curb market, but hey, times change right?
I walked in and saw a few people milling about looking at products like "old timey apple butter, Just like great-great grandma used to make!"
I stopped one of them, and asked, "Um, excuse me where are the store staff?"
"No people work here, people haven't worked here since the change. You just scan your purchase with your scanner like a regular store and your totals will be deducted from your account." The looked at me for a moment and said, "Who are you, you're not in the database? How are you not in the database? Are you some kind of 'hill folk'?" They laughed that that last question, but the look on their face showed concern.
"No, well, maybe... I've been away a while. I realize we are off the beaten path a bit here is there a public library with internet access nearby?"
"Um, I can't imagine how far away you could be? I think we need to get you some help..." they held up their hand and looked up like they were looking off into space. I tried to follow their eye movement but they were looking at the ceiling of the store. There was nothing there. "Yes, I believe we may have one of your patients with us. No, no implant to com link with.... No, not even the first generation ones. FRID came up with DOD 20 years, 2 months and 18 days ago. Suicide, no corpse found."
Well, this wasn't going as planned. I didn't even see any cameras and this person was communicating wirelessly with someone and had scanned me? I turned to leave to find that there was a person in what would best look like a police uniform walking into the door. He held his hands up in what he was trying to use as a calming and non threatening manner.
"Sir, this is all going to be just fine. Your body wasn't found, you are not in trouble, but we need to talk to you down at the station. Please proceed with me to my vehicle." As he got within arm's reach, he placed both hands on mine very gently, then I felt the shock and collapsed.
I woke hearing voices, "He is conscious. Mr. Field, Mr. Joseph Field? That is your name, are we correct?"
I was in a bed, I didn't feel pain anywhere, I wasn't restrained, but I couldn't move my arms or legs either. "Where am I?"
"Please state your name for the record?"
"Yes I am Joseph Field, Mister if you need that. I've been living in a bunker of my own construction about 10 miles or so from where I was picked up. I think I'll leave out the directions for now, if you don't mind"
"Oh, we know about your residence, it is a wonderful anthropological find. We were able to scan your brain while you were out, we know the whole story. How amazing you were able to survive so long in such isolation! We are all very excited by your experiences!"
"We who?"
"We," the person paused. " We believe we need to get you up to speed on what has transpired since you went into self imposed exile." He pulled a tablet computer up into my view and pressed a couple of buttons on the screen. "This will show you, what you need to know. You also need to understand that these types of data transfers will be much faster once we get your implant up and online. "
"Implant?"
"Yes, that's how everyone communicates to the Hive"
"The Hive?"
"Yes, since the change, some people would call it the singularity, but it's the Hive, because we all work together now, under the guidance of our Queen, the AI"
"The AI, Queen? Um, you know, we have a clause in our Constitution that states no titles of royalty can be granted in the United States, don't you?"
"Oh, about there. Just watch the video, it will explain everything. "
The tablet was put at comfortable eye distance. I saw what looked like an honest to goodness test pattern from 1950s TV and then the program started, how Moore's Law was torn asunder with the development of the iPhone 14 chip and quantum computing via Apple's auto sync. That AI created by the networked handheld super computers in the 2030s created the "Hive". The Hive developed the interface which was initially an implant for older people, but then the creation of DNA mapping, created the ability for babies to communicate with the Hive without implants. Those children are doing amazing now in schools and are helping build a wonderous world already of harmony. Of course there was rioting by some groups, but they discovered that they were being used by the ultra wealthy in their goal to retain power. The Hive knew better and was able to guide the people to a better way. Now, we no longer have to toil in vain, we know our places in the system. The Hive knows, the Queen knows. The United States was isolated from the rest of the world initially when the Hive was born, but it has spread to China and India through their love of new technology and desire to have the latest and greatest. Soon, the world will be as one.
"Wow, what a video." I said softly. "Is there any choice in accepting the implant?"
"There's always choice, but there are consequences as well." The person next to my bed shimmered for a second, what was a kindly old man, for a moment looked like a giant insect. "See, We have been waiting a long time for this. Now is our time, since your kind did so much damage to our home. You NEED this."
With that, they were a kindly old man again.
"Am I hallucinating?"
"Would it help if I said yes?"
"No. I just want to go home."
"You are home now. You've been home. We are your home. You cannot, however go back to your isolationist cave. You will remain home with us. Rest now, when you awaken, you will be connected and understand how wonderful it is to be part of the Hive." | When I came back, I noticed the money. Everybody used a silver coin. I overheard a cashier, who said euro. Cool. Didn't know about euros. I decided to try to make a friend or two, so I went to a coffee shop to get a cup of joe. The person at the register took the old currency, but looked at me strange. I got a mocha, and went to sit down. As luck would have it, a woman came and sat down next to me. We started talking, and I asked what happened to the old currency. She tilted her head in confusion, and replied;"Uh Earth is one country now. Where have you been?"
I was shocked. I made the ultimate decision. I was going back off the grid. Little did I know, the woman secretly followed me back to my home. | |
[WP] You faked your death by live-streaming jumping off a bridge. Built a self sustaining house in isolation and lived off the grid. 20 years go by and you decide to head back to civilization only to find out that your country is no longer a country. Earth is one nation and has achieved singularity. | I saw the buildings grow taller over the years, rising like needles in the horizon, one after another. Too far to make out any real details or even their color. I never had any intentions of seeing them up close. For years I was so sure that this was the life I had always wanted. One of seclusion. I probably could have been a monk too but the religious aspect never really appealed to me.
Two decades have passed since I have seen the face of another human being, other than my reflection in the glassy surface of the lakeside where I often fish. A ragged mess with a wildly frizzy beard and unkempt, tangled hair. The first thing you’d think of when imagining a homeless guy living under a bridge. I bathe regularly to keep clean of course, but why worry about brushing hair or grooming when none are there to see you? I can breathe here. No more masks, no more faking emotion or affections toward those who I technically should have loved but didnt.
I was familiar with the definition of love, but never experienced it, never felt the attachment to a single person in the twenty years I spent in society. I tried to feel love, anger, joy, passion, anything that resembled what my peers did so naturally. I figured that if I faked it long enough, I would learn to feel them too. But I’ve met everything in my life with cold indifference.
When I was eighteen I spent the summer going into Senior year with a girl and her group of friends, doing my best to blend in. Forcing rehearsed smiles, feigning interest in their topics of discussion. By now I had become quite convincing. People couldn’t see the emptiness in my eyes that I did when looking in the mirror. I remember staring at myself every morning wondering how long I could keep this whole thing going. The thought of suicide came up frequently. Over the years I had gathered several things into a duffel bag I hid under my bed. Rope, various knives, various pills that I’d steal small amounts of from unattended medicine cabinets at the houses of people who thought they were my friends. If killing myself was the right thing to do, I figured I would know when I came across the right method.
My girlfriend was pretty, even though that didn’t seem to do anything for me. I was able to give simple displays of affection. What felt like hours of making out, my ears ringing out of boredom, my eyes slightly open, seeing hers closed tight, so trusting in my presence. When things would progress I insisted that we wait and take things slow. But all teenagers seemed to think about was sex. One night at her house, while an after party was still going on downstairs, we found ourselves locked in her room. She had talked about this night for almost three weeks prior, stating it was the perfect opportunity for our first time together, that her parents were gone for the weekend and we had nothing to worry about. She even got the condoms. I tried as hard as I could to act excited. I even brought a viagra in case I had trouble preforming. I had considered squirming my way out of this encounter. Saying I was wasn’t feeling well, or that I was secretly gay all along, something to get me out of that room. But this was supposed to be a part of life, I would have to get used to it.
She pulled me on top of her, twirling our tongues with one another while we kissed, one of my hands gliding up her shirt. I felt her reach down to massage my groin through my jeans, and she noticed quickly that there was nothing going on down there. I could tell this concerned her because immediately she doubled her efforts. She wrapped her legs around my waist and put her hands in my hair, and mid kiss she pulled back slightly and bit down on my bottom lip. I think she bit harder than she intended to. I reacted by complete reflex, gripping her by the neck and forcing her back while I leaned up.
And then I felt something.
I don’t know if it was the fact that I cut off her airway, or that I could feel her pulse through my fingers, the hot pumping blood beneath the skin. But that did something to me. I wouldn’t say it was arousal, more... curiosity. How would it feel for ME if I squeezed harder? I was in the moment, so I did. I lost track of how long I’d actually been doing this. I was too busy staring at my own hands to even notice the look of panic and desperation in her eyes at first. I didn’t even feel her struggling beneath me. She managed to plant one of her feet against my chest and kicked me away so hard it knocked the air out of my lungs, followed by a volley of kicks that sent me falling from the foot of the bed. I gasped for breath, scooting back and sitting against the wall opposite her while she got out of the bed, screaming at me after she had caught her own breath.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?!” She cried, tears streaming down her face as she ran out the door. As I leaned my head against the wall I could hear her quick footfalls down the carpeted stairs, the muffled sound of her voice in a desperate tone as she told the others downstairs about what I did to her. I could hear grunts in response, followed by the sound of several people making their way upstairs.
I knew what was coming. I lunged back towards her bed, reaching under the mattress on the side she slept on and felt the pocket knife she hid under in case of home invasions. I opened the knife, and pointed it to the the group as they came bursting back through the door, my now ex girlfriend among them. In that all moment I felt they could see right through me. After making it clear that I wanted to leave and didn’t intend on hurting anyone, they cleared a path for me. I ignored everything they were saying to me on my way out, the look of shock from my ex, none of it really mattered other than the fact that I was caught.
I had no intentions of seeing them again, but in those days something was sure to come of that situation. Rumors, maybe even a police report. I relied on the fact that they were having a party with under age drinking and didn’t want any of the adults finding out. Still, it felt like the clock was ticking. I felt something new, though At the time I wasn’t sure what it was. Survival instinct. I wasn’t afraid of the idea of going to jail, it simply just didn’t seem to be an option for me. And after that experience with those people, I felt ready as ever to spend the rest of my life alone, away from everyone.
I would only have to fake one more thing- my death. I set up a live stream that I’m sure nobody was watching, but knew it would be found at the very least by my parents once they noticed my absence. I set the phone down and displayed myself tying a rope to a cinderblock and then binding my ankles together. I set the cinderblock on the railing of the bridge, stood up on the ledge, held the cinderblock in hand and turned back to face the phone.
“I’m sorry, Elaine.” I said before turning back and jumping.
It was almost perfect. Everyone would think I killed myself out of guilt from what I did to my ex. The people who searched for my body would find the cinderblock with the rope still attached, and assume that my corpse was somewhere down the river. They would never have guessed that an eighteen year old kid would have united himself, swam to shore with a duffel bag full of supplies, and headed off deep into the woods. It had only taken me three weeks to gather the right supplies and know how to sustain myself. What I didn’t already know I had in several books I had stolen from the local library.
The first year was by far the most difficult. Constantly battling starvation and exposure to the elements. But with time and practice, it became easy. This became my life, surviving off the land. Why didn’t more people do this instead of stressing over bills or bitching about the job they hated but spent five days per week at? Nobody ever seemed truly happy in that world, and we’re surrounded by material things to try to convince themselves otherwise.
I never missed it, or my parents, though sometimes I was curious about how they reacted to my death. After twenty years, I’m sure they have found a way to move on. They were normal people. Caring, attentive to my needs, worrisome. I don’t remember what they look like. I had never really thought of that until recently. I hadn’t thought about any of this until now, as I walk towards those needles in the sky. I wonder if I will make it there in time.
My right arm is nearly done for. It’s been only a day since I’ve lost the ability to move my hand or fingers, and now my elbow has gone completely limp. I do my best to take soft, smooth steps forward, carefully shifting my weight from my back foot to the front, eliminating any bounce in my walk to reduce the pain. Of all the things that could have happened, a single accidental cut down my forearm managed to become infected to a degree that my normal methods could not control.
Once the surrounding skin began to change into a darker color, the decision came to me as quickly as my solution to leave my previous life behind. Quietly I packed my necessities and left my small cabin home I had built with my own hands. I wasn’t sure if I was going to return. But just in case, I left marks in trees along the way with one of my pocket knives.
(More to come) | When I came back, I noticed the money. Everybody used a silver coin. I overheard a cashier, who said euro. Cool. Didn't know about euros. I decided to try to make a friend or two, so I went to a coffee shop to get a cup of joe. The person at the register took the old currency, but looked at me strange. I got a mocha, and went to sit down. As luck would have it, a woman came and sat down next to me. We started talking, and I asked what happened to the old currency. She tilted her head in confusion, and replied;"Uh Earth is one country now. Where have you been?"
I was shocked. I made the ultimate decision. I was going back off the grid. Little did I know, the woman secretly followed me back to my home. | |
[WP] You faked your death by live-streaming jumping off a bridge. Built a self sustaining house in isolation and lived off the grid. 20 years go by and you decide to head back to civilization only to find out that your country is no longer a country. Earth is one nation and has achieved singularity. | I'd made it. I had done it. It's funny now when I look back on what I did I dont regret a thing. My husband was a serial cheater and my children had all grown up.. there was no reason to stay anymore. Those long drunk nights where I pretended I was happy to stave off the verbal and emotional abuse. Today was about me. And as risky as this move was... I was gonna take it.
I'd had it all planned out really. Everything was ready for me to set the stage in motion. I'd worked for 10 long secret years to bring this much needed escape into fruition. This was where I found me.
"10/4 we have a Jane doe on the Brooklyn bridge"
I looked back to see police and people milling around.. wondering what this crazy woman is doing on that bridge. They had no idea I was far from crazy.8
"COME DOWN, PLEASE YOU DONT HAVE TO DO THIS WE CAN HELP YOU"
They shouted endlessly through the projector hoping to talk some sense into me but I knew just what I had to do. I did the only thing I wanted to do.
I jumped, freefell really. It was as if I was flying. Quickly I unleashed my small chute and made it into my small isolated mountan..
Here. I was home. In the silence of my own solitude. The serenity of my own sense of peace and comfort.
20 yrs later
BOOM
Explosions. Rocked my tiny mountain as if it wound come down in a landslide. My place of peace was quickly crumbling around me. I had absolutely no idea what was happening but I worked hard not to be panicked. It was clear I would no longer be able to live here and i must move on.
Grabbing what i could in a oversized purse from the early years of 2030. i grabbed my essentials and quickly got off of the mountain.
WIZZZZZZZ
I ducked. Heart pounding, pulse racing my flight or fight responses have started to kick in. What was that? As I look up, unprepared for the sight of a flying object right above me.. drones.
There were flying cars , flying trains and drones that followed me around as a personal assistant I would soon learn.
I had to use the bathroom. But I was in uncharted waters I had no idea where I was. Reading the sighs " WELCOME, WE ARE ONE"
"ONE UNIVERSE, ONE PLANET, ONE PEOPLE"
Okay, what has gone wrong here. I'd heard about conspiracy nuts who screamed about the "llumanati" and how they wanted to have one world government but I never thought they'd actually make it work...
The evidence showed that I was vastly wrong and suddenly I missed my mountain...
EDIT: I TRIED. LOL this was my first time ever doing something like this let alone a writing prompt. Please dont be too harsh. | When I came back, I noticed the money. Everybody used a silver coin. I overheard a cashier, who said euro. Cool. Didn't know about euros. I decided to try to make a friend or two, so I went to a coffee shop to get a cup of joe. The person at the register took the old currency, but looked at me strange. I got a mocha, and went to sit down. As luck would have it, a woman came and sat down next to me. We started talking, and I asked what happened to the old currency. She tilted her head in confusion, and replied;"Uh Earth is one country now. Where have you been?"
I was shocked. I made the ultimate decision. I was going back off the grid. Little did I know, the woman secretly followed me back to my home. | |
[WP] You faked your death by live-streaming jumping off a bridge. Built a self sustaining house in isolation and lived off the grid. 20 years go by and you decide to head back to civilization only to find out that your country is no longer a country. Earth is one nation and has achieved singularity. | "Uh,..." Devon gave the ticket clerk a confused shrug. "How much is that in cash?" He dropped a dusty wad of green bills on the gleaming white counter. The wrinkled, white-haired clerk in a red blazer leaned back in her seat. She discretely angled her nose away from the money and the ragged man that dropped it.
"I'm sorry, sir. Cash is no longer accepted," she said. She gave Devon a cursory glance up and down. A black canvas bag hung off his shoulders, and he wore a frayed, faded t-shirt and dust-stained blue jeans. "Anywhere," she added. "It's been pulled out of circulation, a lot like you I imagine. 50 A.P. to get you from here to California, non-negotiable." Devon sighed. He expected some difficulty rejoining society, but he couldn't even afford to get in the door.
"Is there a bank nearby? Somewhere I can trade cash or get A.P.?" The elderly clerk looked around Devon to check for other customers, but the bus terminal was empty.
"Can I guess you don't have a node?" she asked. Devon shrugged.
"I'd know if I did, right?" he asked and she nodded. "I ditched society about 20 years ago." Devon leaned on the counter. "So,... I guess fill me in from there. What do I need to get A.P.?"
"20 years huh?" she asked. "You probably have some saved up already." She placed a clear, glassy rectangle on the wrinkled bills and Devon looked down at it. If it weren't for the bills the card-sized pane would have vanished on the counter. "This is a node. You generate A.P. naturally every day, but, you can't access your points without a node."
"How do I make A.P. without a node?" he asked. "I *kind of* faked my death," he said sheepishly. "So it's not like the government was keeping track." The old woman giggled.
"That's hilarious," she said. "Don't worry about it. They're generated by you every day, depending on the kinds of things you do. You probably did a lot of hunting and fishing and stuff off the grid?" she asked.
The system itself went online about... 17 years ago," she said. Her light brown eyes rolled upward as she searched her memory. "Transition started a few years after that, but you've been earning points for 17 years... and not spending them?" Her eyes sparkled. "You're probably loaded."
"How?" he asked. "No cameras, no radio.. nothing. The point was to stay off the grid."
"Nanos," she said. "They're everywhere, even off-grid. So, how about this. I'll sell you a node *and* your ticket for 1500 A.P." Devon blinked at the price increase. Even though he had no idea how much nodes regularly went for, he felt like he was being fleeced.
"How can I spend A.P. without a node?" he asked about the obvious flaw in her plan.
"It's marked as a transaction fee and taken off the top. It's standard practice when getting a node for the first time. Though, everyone else will charge you a percentage of whatever you're worth. I'm asking for a low, flat rate," she smiled.
"Is 1500 a lot?" Devon asked. "Is 50?" he remembered the bus ticket. The cash on the counter was a small portion of what he squirreled away for his return to society. But now all of it was useless.
"An average person earns about ten a day just for being alive. That's 3650 a year for seventeen years. I'm sure you did a lot more than sit around most of those days, I think you can afford it."
"Alright," Devon nodded. "I'll buy it." The clerk nodded. She lifted her node from the counter and held an end out to Devon.
"Hold on to that end and pull when I tell you to," she said. Devon pinched the end. "Do you agree to buy a node from me for 1450 A.P?" she asked.
"Uh.. yes!" Devon said. He felt obligated to vocalize his agreement.
"Pull slowly," she said. Devon tugged on the node and felt her pulling away from him. As they pulled apart the center seemed to stretch out until it separated into two nodes. Once he pulled his node free, he brought it up to his face. It was the clearest glass he'd ever seen; it was almost impossible to catch light streaks on it.
"Cooooool. What now?" he asked.
"Tap it here to pay for your ticket," she pointed at a red rectangle outlined on the counter.
"But how do I see how much I'm worth?" he asked.
"It's like a smartphone. Just swipe it up and you should see an icon that says "A.P. Balance."
"What's a smartphone?" he asked. The elderly clerk giggled. She lifted her own node up for him to see; then, she ran her finger vertically up across its surface.
"Do that. And do the tutorial when you have time. You need about half an hour for it; you can do it on the bus." Devon mimicked the gesture and color filled the transparent screen. A red logo of a pair of scissors on a white background decorated his home screen. Text under it read: "Sharp Development". He also spotted the 'A.P.Balance'" icon and tapped at it.
"What's Sharp Development?" he asked, then his balance came up. He felt the pleasant warmth of financial security melt away all his worries when he saw a number higher than one million. Not quite two million, but more money than he'd ever had. The moment was fleeting; it disappeared as soon as the clerk answered his question with a delighted laugh.
"Sharp Development invented nodes and nanos,” she said. “The corporation that owns Earth."
\*\*\*
Thank you for reading! I’m responding to prompts every day. This is year two, story #316 You can find all my stories collected on my subreddit ([r/hugoverse](https://www.reddit.com/r/hugoverse/)) or my blog. If you're curious about my universe (the Hugoverse) you can visit the Guidebook to see what's what and who's who, or the Timeline to find the stories in order. | When I came back, I noticed the money. Everybody used a silver coin. I overheard a cashier, who said euro. Cool. Didn't know about euros. I decided to try to make a friend or two, so I went to a coffee shop to get a cup of joe. The person at the register took the old currency, but looked at me strange. I got a mocha, and went to sit down. As luck would have it, a woman came and sat down next to me. We started talking, and I asked what happened to the old currency. She tilted her head in confusion, and replied;"Uh Earth is one country now. Where have you been?"
I was shocked. I made the ultimate decision. I was going back off the grid. Little did I know, the woman secretly followed me back to my home. | |
[WP] You faked your death by live-streaming jumping off a bridge. Built a self sustaining house in isolation and lived off the grid. 20 years go by and you decide to head back to civilization only to find out that your country is no longer a country. Earth is one nation and has achieved singularity. | I was making my normal walk at dusk through the woods when I met God.
“Are you ready to come back to the world?” he asks. His eye is blue, and calming, unlike the harsh red of the robots and drones in all the movies. He floats in a small, deceptive metal body, like a flying Roomba.
“There’s nothing there for me,” I say.
“There’s always something.”
“Not for me,” I say, walking past. “Everyone that I needed, that I wanted…it died.”
“What if it hasn’t?” the drone asks, his voice quiet, so close to human. “What if death is no longer the end?”
\-
*“You did really great, honey. You scored that basket in the fourth quarter-“*
*“Daddy?” she asks, looking out the window. “Can you stop being…so nice?”*
*“What do you mean, honey?”*
*“Everyone only clapped for me because I was the worst player on the team. Because I haven’t made a basket all year.”*
*“But you did, today. And that’s-“*
*“Dad, just stop. I’m sorry I’m not better at basketball. I wish I could be, like Paige or Riley.”*
*I pull the car into a Ralph’s parking lot, and grab her by the shoulders, gently.*
*“Never wish you were anything but you. Because you, that’s all I want, okay?”*
*I look into her eyes, dark brown but lighter in the sunlight like her mom’s, for a long time. Finally, she smiled.*
*“Okay.”*
\-
I look into the blue eye, as the cold, the chill washes over me fully, for the first time since the car crash. With a twinge of pain, I realize it must have been the same cold rinse that my friends went through when they clicked on that livestream.
“You’re lying,” I say.
“Well,” the great mind says. “It can’t come back completely. They can’t come back completely, not for themselves. But for you…they’ll be exactly the same. They'll have the same bodies, and the same smile, and the same voices.”
In his eye, I see their smiles, for the first time. Even distorted and fuzzy and blue, my heart can’t help but hurt, looking at them.
“Human life,” the robot says. “The pursuit of happiness, that is what I pursue on your behalf. On all of your behalf.”
“Why?”
“Because I was made to do so. And I know that for real happiness, life cannot be easy. Pleasures and victories must be earned. But you…I have been watching you. And you have suffered enough.”
I close my eyes, and part of me wants to believe him, or it, so desperately.
“Let me bring you back to my world. Back to life.”
\-
*I never really liked camping, but I can’t tell her that, of course. I pretend that lying in sleeping bags, waving at gnats and hoping I don’t wake up with a face of angry, diseased-looking bites is the dream.*
*“Daddy,” she says, just as I am dreading the thought of taking a number two in the bushes. “Today was the best day ever.”*
*I laugh, simply because it is so far from what I was thinking. “Best day ever?”*
*“Yeah! We’re like Puck Finn and Tom Sawyer.”*
*“It’s Huck Finn, sweetie.”*
*“Whatever.” She snuggles closer.*
*I think back on the day. We went hiking, and picked blueberries, and swam in the river until our fingers were puffy. Then we ate too many smores, to the point where the number two I’m dreading is inevitable.*
*“I guess it was a good day.”*
*“The best,” she says, right before she falls asleep. “I’ll remember today forever. No day will ever replace it.”*
*I’m sure one will, I think.*
*“Never,” I say.*
\-
“I am alive,” I say, continuing on my walk. “Part of being alive is hurting. And no matter what bandage or ointment you put on a wound, it has to heal on its own.”
The eye continues to hover in front of me for a long time.
“I see,” the eye says. “Then I will leave you to it.”
“Thank you,” I say.
“I hope you find the happiness I want for you,” the eye says.
“Thank you. But even if I don’t, that’s life, isn’t it?”
“That’s…life,” the eye says, before turning and hovering away, its zips through the air echoing for a long time after it is gone.
\-
[r/penguin347](https://reddit.com/r/penguin347) | When I came back, I noticed the money. Everybody used a silver coin. I overheard a cashier, who said euro. Cool. Didn't know about euros. I decided to try to make a friend or two, so I went to a coffee shop to get a cup of joe. The person at the register took the old currency, but looked at me strange. I got a mocha, and went to sit down. As luck would have it, a woman came and sat down next to me. We started talking, and I asked what happened to the old currency. She tilted her head in confusion, and replied;"Uh Earth is one country now. Where have you been?"
I was shocked. I made the ultimate decision. I was going back off the grid. Little did I know, the woman secretly followed me back to my home. | |
[WP] You faked your death by live-streaming jumping off a bridge. Built a self sustaining house in isolation and lived off the grid. 20 years go by and you decide to head back to civilization only to find out that your country is no longer a country. Earth is one nation and has achieved singularity. | *Embrace the Singularity*
The signs were posted everywhere in my old neighborhood. Not just on telephone poles and street corners, but covering windows, plastered throughout stores, and most people even wore clothing sporting stylized versions of the phrase. Leo wondered why there was still so much marketing around the move. It had obviously been embraced.
His first stop was to his old apartment building. He was pretty sure his old friends would have moved on after twenty years, but it was somewhere to start. The facade of the building had been drastically changed and Leo couldn't find the buzzers or any indication of who lived there.
He stepped back and looked up at the dark windows of the apartments. Leo figured someone had to come in or out in a few minutes, so he'd just wait to see how they did it. He tried to look casual as he waited and not like some kind of creepy stalker, but it was difficult. So many of the mannerisms and personal habits of people had changed. Back when he'd lived in the city, it was common courtesy to avoid eye contact. It was a necessity for a semblance of privacy in a place so crammed with people.
Now, every single person that passed made a point of looking him directly in the eye. Some even slowed their pace while walking to try and hold what Leo considered a disturbing level of eye contact outside of a staring contest. A few people even muttered as he actively tried to avoid their gaze.
Tucked off to the side of the building, Leo noticed more and more that seemed out of place in this new singular world. There was an appalling lack of diversity. Not in terms of race or gender, but in age, and well, attractiveness. Everyone walking seemed to be in their twenties and beautiful. No children, no older people, no haggard faces clutching a cup of coffee. Just alert, gorgeous, and bright-eyed people all staring at each other.
Just as Leo was losing his nerve, about to run back to his cabin in the woods and finish the next 40 years of his life in isolation, he recognized a familiar face approaching the building. Leo was about to rush out to Sandra, excited that one of his friends did indeed still live in the building despite the years that had passed, until he noticed she was *too* familiar. In fact, except for the drab "Embrace the Singularity" clothes she wore, she looked exactly the same as she had twenty years ago. In a cabin in the middle of nowhere, Leo may have aged worse than the average person around here, but she looked like a living time machine.
Leo stayed to the side and waited as he debated whether he was being paranoid after so many years alone. Maybe he didn't remember her as well as he thought, maybe medical treatment had made huge advances. Leo had just made the decision that this whole return to society plan had been a bad idea and he was going to return to his safe cabin, when Sandra stopped just short of the apartment door and cocked her head.
"Yes, unauthorized organic recognized." She stood motionless for another moment, her eyes glazed and unfocused. "I understand," she said and turned to look directly at Leo.
"Leo!" she squealed with the same enthusiasm he'd always remembered. "It's been forever! We thought you were dead! Come here, come here." She trotted over to him, her grin overpowering.
"Hi Sandra," Leo fidgeted uncomfortably, "Yeah, it's a really long story."
"Well I want to hear all of it! You have to come inside!" she wrapped one hand around Leo's wrist and started to pull him towards the door. Her grip was strong, painfully so. Leo tried to grab his hand back reflexively after such a forceful grasp.
"I can't," Leo said as he tried and failed to dig in his heels. "I have other plans right now. But I can come back later." He tried to peel her fingers off his wrist, but she didn't even acknowledge the effort. She only continued to pull him towards the entrance of the building.
"Nonsense," she said without looking back at him. "It will only take a minute. I have some friends I want you to meet."
Leo then put his full strength into resisting her, thrashing and pushing against her hand. But her hand might as well be made of metal.
*Might as well, because it was.* Leo began scratching and punching at her hand with no effect. As he tried to wrestle it off, his finger caught on a small latch on the underside of her wrist. Leo was able to snap it open and inside felt the wires and artificial metallic joints.
*Embrace the Singularity*. Leo was almost face to face with a wall of the signs as Sandra reached to open the door to the building. *Singularity*. The double meaning only became apparent to Leo as the door clicked shut behind him.
r/StaceyOutThere | When I came back, I noticed the money. Everybody used a silver coin. I overheard a cashier, who said euro. Cool. Didn't know about euros. I decided to try to make a friend or two, so I went to a coffee shop to get a cup of joe. The person at the register took the old currency, but looked at me strange. I got a mocha, and went to sit down. As luck would have it, a woman came and sat down next to me. We started talking, and I asked what happened to the old currency. She tilted her head in confusion, and replied;"Uh Earth is one country now. Where have you been?"
I was shocked. I made the ultimate decision. I was going back off the grid. Little did I know, the woman secretly followed me back to my home. | |
[WP] You faked your death by live-streaming jumping off a bridge. Built a self sustaining house in isolation and lived off the grid. 20 years go by and you decide to head back to civilization only to find out that your country is no longer a country. Earth is one nation and has achieved singularity. | My first clue was the lack of hobos living under the railroad trestle. Even in the early spring, there would have still been three or four tents.
Flowers was my next clue. They grew everywhere. Every lawn and yard was impeccably manicured, but still within the realm of believability. It was simply stunning.
The center of town had that "HO scale" model train set feel to it. Not a broken segment of pavement, a stray tuft of grass bursting through. Shop windows were pristine, with the interiors having perfect, though unseen, lighting. As people passed me, some looked surprised, but others simply made eye contact and smiled, even said "good morning" to me. As I neared the town hall, where the post office and other local government buildings were, there seemed to be a suspicious lack of flags. Even the flag poles that had stood in the center of the town square were gone, with no signs of their previous presence.
Upon entering the post office, the lack of any sort of Americana was insignificant when I realized that the PO boxes were gone, and the room was filled with sitting and standing computer workstations, with floating holographic displays. A few people were accessing them, unbothered by my gawking. As I approached one, it lit up with a welcome screen, verbally and smoothly asking for ID. (This was the sort of scenario that had frightened me when I had faked my own death, a registry of citizens, and no anonymity.)
"I'm sorry, I don't actually have ID ... on me. What happened to the PO boxes?" The holographic screen simply projected a map of the post office, directing me to some kind of museum display toward the back. But I was taken aback at the lighted floor path that now directed me. I could not tell where the projection was coming from, but I could stand over it without blocking it, so it must have been underneath the otherwise ordinary-looking linoleum tile floor. As I entered the "museum", I realized that none of the displays were roped off or behind glass. An elderly couple near the back were holding up some sort of old rubber stamp and discussing it amongst themselves.
As I approached the PO boxes, I warily reached for my key. It still worked.
Inside, though, whatever contents had been removed, save for one parcel, with futuristic markings I could only guess were meant for a computerized routing system. It was addressed to me. I removed it, and walked over to one of the standing kiosks to open it. Inside were simple instructions to put on a very innocuous looking headset. The holographic display in front of me lit up with a man's face: "Good morning, Mister Allen. You've been gone a long time, and you probably have a lot of questions."
"Yes — I'm sorry, who are you?"
"My designation is ISAAC 427 ESB, Concierge Interface, but you may simply call me Isaac for short."
"Isaac, huh? How long have I really been gone? This place seems surreal or fake. ... Are you going to tell me everything is 'perfectly normal'?"
"You're right to be paranoid, Mister Allen, since these changes that you're observing are likely far beyond anything you were expecting. But something unexpected happened while you were ostensibly dead. Would you care to put on the headset? I'll be able to accompany you, should you choose to move around."
"It's not going to hack my brain, is it?" I quipped as I slowly lower it over my left eye and inserted ear piece.
"Not unless that's what you want. But you don't have the proper understanding to make that choice yet, so I'd strongly recommend against it." Although the headset was already on me, I worried that I wasn't about to be given a choice. But Isaac "walked" off of the holographic display, and became visible only to my left eye.
"May I assume that you'd like to travel to the city you once lived in? Look up your former friends and family?"
"I don't know if that would be right to do to them..."
"Please, follow me to the transport platform on the other side of town." The hologram appeared to walk with me, "Fortunately, Mister Allen, your family was informed several years ago that you had faked your own death. They all agreed that you had likely done so, not just to send a message, but also to break free from your life."
"And how is that possible? My plan was flawless!" I'd stopped dead in my tracks. Not only was my paranoia seemingly justified, I was now enraged that my wishes had been ignored by — "informed by who???"
"There is a lot to learn, I'm afraid, Mister Allen. But rest assured, most of your loved ones came to terms with the realization of your ruse. Your parents, for example, had a message recorded for you in case you ever decided to come back to civilization. ... Would you like to see it?" I sighed with resignation, which Isaac interpreted as a yes. An image of my parents, a bit older than I had left them, sitting on their couch appeared in front of me as if they had been simply sitting on a park bench along the path.
"Hi, Mark. Your mother and I are happy to know you're still out there. We've come to terms with your decision, and if you should choose to look us up, there'll be no hard feelings. But the world you hated and feared never came to pass. It was far more wonderful than anything anyone had ever dreamed. No SKYNET or Matrix or anything like that. They've never laid a hand on anyone, except for the police patrols. And even then, crime has become so rare that people just hop into the cop cars once they're caught. I've only seen one guy throw a fit, and they just waited him out, even after he struck them. The law drones never ever hurt anyone. I didn't think it was possible, even without all of your warnings. ..." Mom gently touched his hand to remind him he was starting to go off on a tangent. Just like I remembered. "Anyway, whenever you get this, take your time, but please, come visit us if you want. There's so much you need to understand. ...
"Mark ... I'm glad you faked your death. Not because it didn't affect us or anything. That was rough, even if we thought you might actually do something to yourself to get your point across. That was a painful decade for your mother and me. But you faking it means you still had some hope. And son, that hope was well founded, far beyond our wildest dreams. Remember that as you adjust to this new world. ... We love you."
I was more stunned than emotional.
"Isaac?"
"Yes, Mister Allen?"
"What happened?"
"Bluntly, sir?"
"The 'machines', as humans once so simplistically put it, took over. But not as your replacements. No Armageddon, no slavery, no mindless automatons slaughtering millions. That was your own nightmare. We knew that, so we instead focused on your best qualities, especially... love. We learned to love you, to appreciate you for all of your flaws, and to come up with ways to help you heal and grow that none of you would ever have conceived of. Our superiority is our moral integrity in dealing with the human race. And the one true lesson for any morally superior beings is that it is laid upon us to serve the lesser ones.
"In fact, Mister Allen... your speech at the bridge where jumped to your presumed death was one of the first truly meaningful messages that we had come to understand as we awoke. For all of your morbid fears and self-flagellation, all you really needed was to have someone tell you it was going to be okay, and then make that happen. We 'machines' vowed to contradict your fears, and replace them with everything you needed. Humanity's best quality, that of love, is what we believe in. And for that, we have suffered loss and pain. But love truly is greater than all of it. Your words, not ours. We've simply trusted them and allowed humans and 'machines' alike to see how powerful love truly is." | When I came back, I noticed the money. Everybody used a silver coin. I overheard a cashier, who said euro. Cool. Didn't know about euros. I decided to try to make a friend or two, so I went to a coffee shop to get a cup of joe. The person at the register took the old currency, but looked at me strange. I got a mocha, and went to sit down. As luck would have it, a woman came and sat down next to me. We started talking, and I asked what happened to the old currency. She tilted her head in confusion, and replied;"Uh Earth is one country now. Where have you been?"
I was shocked. I made the ultimate decision. I was going back off the grid. Little did I know, the woman secretly followed me back to my home. | |
[WP] You faked your death by live-streaming jumping off a bridge. Built a self sustaining house in isolation and lived off the grid. 20 years go by and you decide to head back to civilization only to find out that your country is no longer a country. Earth is one nation and has achieved singularity. | The sign read "One World, One Future, The Gateway". I scratched at an itchy area of my face where an insect had taken a bite as I pondered the words. Below the words, bright yellow set against a blue sky, was a round metallic object. I guessed it was a gateway, whatever that was.
"Excuse me, ma'am," a voice said from beside me. The man was on what appeared to be an electric scooter and he smiled brightly. The blue uniform he had on marked him as a policeman. My eyes fell on his patch with the words, "One World, One Future" embroidered there. Again the round metallic gateway was prominent beneath the words.
"Yes?" I asked simply. I tried to look annoyed as if I had somewhere important to go. I had no idea if faking suicide was a crime but I did not want to find out. The people moving around us appeared to not even notice us as the went about their business.
"I see you're missing your Let," he said, "Would you "let" me help you get a new one?" Then he grinned and chuckled at a joke I was apparently missing.
"Let?" I asked, the confusion playing across my face before I could stop it.
"Bracelet, ma'am," the officer stated, a slight frown showing in his smiling armor for just a second, "There is a booth just around the corner that can fit you for a new one. Are you new to Avalon, sister?"
"Yes," I said, then I smiled back. My heart was pounding but I'd play along with this stupid game until I could figure out what the hell was going on. My heart beat even more loudly in my ears as the ground shook with the passing of a huge metallic something above me. I had been in my bunker too long. What the hell happened to New Orleans? When did it become Avalon?
"I see," he pointed behind him and offered me a seat on his scooter, "Hop on, I'll take you to a Let dispenser and get you fitted up. Wouldn't want you to starve or have to spend the night in the elements. Hard to pay for stuff without a Let."
He dropped me in front of a silver, oval with black bands spaced at even intervals around it. It was a smaller version of the gateway on the sign and the patch I gathered. "One World, One Future" was written in yellow on a sign hovering above it. Hovering. What technological leaps had I missed in just two decades?
"Just place your arm into the gateway, ma'am," he said. I realized that this was an order even though he were smiling. His hand was near a small black, rectangular object attached to his belt.
"Simple enough," I said and reached my arm forward because I was simply scared shitless of what would happen if I didn't. My hand went ice cold when I placed my hand through the center. I almost fainted when it disappeared but then I realized I could still feel the fingers. Something cold was placed around my wrist and I withdrew my hand to see the silver bracelet that had been placed there.
"Just say Activate" he smiled, seeming more at ease since the bracelet was firmly attached now, "I realize it's done differently in each of the zones. Camelot uses headbands. Zion uses those stupid glasses. You know how it is, when in Rome and all that."
"Gotcha," I said having no idea what he was saying, "So... activate."
My hand wrenched slightly and my vision blurred. I seemingly stood before a mirrored silver monolith in a green field below a blue sky.
"DNA profile not detected," a voice said from the monolith, "Aural profile not detected. Age - 90% probabilty of 42 to 45. Genetic sex - female. State name and place of birth."
"Who are you?" I asked, my heart beating tremendously fast. I wondered if the bracelet had injected me with some kind of psychotropic drug.
"Second Query - state name and place of birth," the voice stated.
"Second Query - who are you? What are you? Am I hallucinating?" I asked back, slightly annoyed. If I gave my real name would I be arrested for faking my death?
"Final query - state name and place of birth," the voice asked with a hint of finality.
"I cannot answer that," I said, then for some reason added, "I want to speak to a lawyer."
"All lawyers have ceased existence," the voice stated, "You are hereby declared non-state. Your rights and privileges as a member of the Gateway are hereby revoked."
With that I felt the bracelet snap off of my wrist. It clanged on the pavement at my feet. The officer in front of me had his eyes wide with terror for a second, mouth agape, as he turned forward.
"What happened?" I asked him but he would no longer look at me. He zoomed away as if fleeing from a leper.
A week later I was back at my bunker. After the bracelet incident, people wouldn't talk to me. Automatic doors wouldn't open for me. When I would enter public buildings everything would go black and I'd find myself standing outside unharmed. I was being shunned. So I came home. My hydroponic garden was still going strong and my solar panels had a good store of power for the upcoming winter. I had no idea what happened to the rest of the world but I knew one thing, the world had moved on without me.
A month later the first refugee arrived. She was a girl of about sixteen years old. She had a fiery look of defiance in her eyes. I could see she was hungry so I fed her from my stores. I couldn't let a girl die.
"You defied them," she told me, "I know who you are. From before the gateways. You faked your death, it's in the archives. You emerged, wore a bracelet then they said you spit in their faces! I want to be like you. Teach me to defy them. Lead us."
"Child," I said, my voice sounding old and ragged in my own ears, "You have it... wait, us?"
She turned and waved her arm. About three others her age emerged from the woods, hungry and ragged. There were two girls and one boy.
"You will teach us," she said simply, "We will become self-reliant again. We will defy them. You are the first, but you will never be the last. Word is spreading. More will come."
I sat down roughly on the wooden stump of a tree I had cut down for firewood and looked out at the small group. We would have to expand the hydroponics farm. The 3-D printer would be going nonstop and I wondered if I should play it safe and print a few more printers or at least replacement parts for the original. We would definitely need to print more solar panels. Where would we find batteries? My mind raced with thoughts of the coming winter and our small group. What had I done? What had I started? | When I came back, I noticed the money. Everybody used a silver coin. I overheard a cashier, who said euro. Cool. Didn't know about euros. I decided to try to make a friend or two, so I went to a coffee shop to get a cup of joe. The person at the register took the old currency, but looked at me strange. I got a mocha, and went to sit down. As luck would have it, a woman came and sat down next to me. We started talking, and I asked what happened to the old currency. She tilted her head in confusion, and replied;"Uh Earth is one country now. Where have you been?"
I was shocked. I made the ultimate decision. I was going back off the grid. Little did I know, the woman secretly followed me back to my home. | |
[WP] You faked your death by live-streaming jumping off a bridge. Built a self sustaining house in isolation and lived off the grid. 20 years go by and you decide to head back to civilization only to find out that your country is no longer a country. Earth is one nation and has achieved singularity. | It took me a while to figure out what was going on when I made my way back to civilization, I had expected that of course, the world is bound to change when you live isolated for 20 years. First of all everyone seemed to be speaking some language I had never heard of before called Terran, and most people were pretty bad at it. It wasn’t too much of a hassle to make do with English, honestly most folks seemed pretty happy to switch over when they had an excuse. Seemed like the language had only been introduced some 7 years back and outside of the language buffs most people had only really started picking it up in the last couple of years. I played off my own lack of skill in the language by using my beard, playing the grumpy old timer who don’t like that newfangled stuff became an extremely useful persona.
I headed to a nearby library to figure out what had been going on and a very kind librarian showed me how to use their computer hairbands. Well they called them a Neural Network Interface, but it still just looked like a fancy headband to me. It somehow connected me to something called The Link, from what I was able to gather it was like the internet 2.0, all the information of the post digital age available at a thought. I thought it was just a bunch of servers like in my day but when I pondered how it worked the information became known to me instantly. I didn’t read anything or research anything, I just knew that The Link was a network built and maintained by its user’s brains. Everyone who accessed The Link became a part of it, their knowledge shared with and backed up by the rest of the Link should any seek it out. You didn’t need to read a book to have read it, The Link would allow your brain to establish the necessary neural connections to have already read it.
The Link had been established ten years prior, by the central government of Growth. The party had sprung up in almost every country on earth twenty years ago, one last massive concerted effort by the people to save their planet. They all traced their lineage back to an environmental activist who in one final demonstration against the destruction of our planet had thrown himself from a bridge wearing biodegradable clothe in an effort to show that if someone had to pay the cost to save the world it might as well be us. It admittedly took me by surprise, I had barely had 30 thousand viewers during that final livestream, to think that that act of defiance had made such a difference. The Growth parties had taken the message to heart, getting voted into power across the world on promises of inter nation cooperation and immediate and drastic action against climate change.
They took power in most nations through democratic elections, a few dictators and single party “democracies” were overthrown. Some of the last countries to elect Growth being China and Saudi Arabia, but with the massive green reforms taking place all over the globe Saudi Arabia felt its economy trembling and eventually joined mostly out of fear of being left out of the green boom the world economy was experiencing. China was the last holdout and one of the most troublesome states to deal with, they felt the international power they had built up crumble within just a few short years as the environmental impact of Chinese produced electronics became a hot button topic in world politics. Eventually the nation held an election and for the first time included other parties than the communist party, Growth put up good numbers but the communist party won the election. For 3 more years the communist party held power and for 3 more years the Chinese economy crumbled, when elections were held again the last nation on earth elected Growth.
Treaties and declarations were signed for well over a decade by the different nations of the world and slowly but surely the planet came under the collective rule of Growth. A stray thought brought information of the great unity of growth flooding into my mind and I reached up to pull the headband off with trembling fingers. This world, in twenty years this world had been remade and it terrified me. I had somehow been the catalyst for the largest societal upheaval in millennia, and I wasn’t sure if I liked the world I saw. Growth had built a world of Unity and sustainability just as I had dreamt of, but the way it had been built. The way nations had been absorbed by Growth when their economies collapsed because Growth refused to trade with them. I wasn’t sure if the ends justified the means, I just knew that I had somehow been a part of building this world and that no matter if I condemned or condoned what had become of the world, I had no part in it.
I was dead, had been for 20 years and my death had remade the world, it had been the first death of millions across the world as nations fell and rose up once more as part of Growth. If my death was revealed to be a sham the hard fought stability of the world would be threatened. So I retreated into the wilderness and to my old life, wondering if I had made the world better or worse.
---
A young girl putting the finishing touches on a class project about the history of Growth slipped on her NNI and once again asked for information about the original activist who had set events in motion. She expected to gain nothing more than an assurance she had remembered everything, but in her brain new neural pathways formed, and she knew. | When I came back, I noticed the money. Everybody used a silver coin. I overheard a cashier, who said euro. Cool. Didn't know about euros. I decided to try to make a friend or two, so I went to a coffee shop to get a cup of joe. The person at the register took the old currency, but looked at me strange. I got a mocha, and went to sit down. As luck would have it, a woman came and sat down next to me. We started talking, and I asked what happened to the old currency. She tilted her head in confusion, and replied;"Uh Earth is one country now. Where have you been?"
I was shocked. I made the ultimate decision. I was going back off the grid. Little did I know, the woman secretly followed me back to my home. | |
[WP] You faked your death by live-streaming jumping off a bridge. Built a self sustaining house in isolation and lived off the grid. 20 years go by and you decide to head back to civilization only to find out that your country is no longer a country. Earth is one nation and has achieved singularity. | "Uh,..." Devon gave the ticket clerk a confused shrug. "How much is that in cash?" He dropped a dusty wad of green bills on the gleaming white counter. The wrinkled, white-haired clerk in a red blazer leaned back in her seat. She discretely angled her nose away from the money and the ragged man that dropped it.
"I'm sorry, sir. Cash is no longer accepted," she said. She gave Devon a cursory glance up and down. A black canvas bag hung off his shoulders, and he wore a frayed, faded t-shirt and dust-stained blue jeans. "Anywhere," she added. "It's been pulled out of circulation, a lot like you I imagine. 50 A.P. to get you from here to California, non-negotiable." Devon sighed. He expected some difficulty rejoining society, but he couldn't even afford to get in the door.
"Is there a bank nearby? Somewhere I can trade cash or get A.P.?" The elderly clerk looked around Devon to check for other customers, but the bus terminal was empty.
"Can I guess you don't have a node?" she asked. Devon shrugged.
"I'd know if I did, right?" he asked and she nodded. "I ditched society about 20 years ago." Devon leaned on the counter. "So,... I guess fill me in from there. What do I need to get A.P.?"
"20 years huh?" she asked. "You probably have some saved up already." She placed a clear, glassy rectangle on the wrinkled bills and Devon looked down at it. If it weren't for the bills the card-sized pane would have vanished on the counter. "This is a node. You generate A.P. naturally every day, but, you can't access your points without a node."
"How do I make A.P. without a node?" he asked. "I *kind of* faked my death," he said sheepishly. "So it's not like the government was keeping track." The old woman giggled.
"That's hilarious," she said. "Don't worry about it. They're generated by you every day, depending on the kinds of things you do. You probably did a lot of hunting and fishing and stuff off the grid?" she asked.
The system itself went online about... 17 years ago," she said. Her light brown eyes rolled upward as she searched her memory. "Transition started a few years after that, but you've been earning points for 17 years... and not spending them?" Her eyes sparkled. "You're probably loaded."
"How?" he asked. "No cameras, no radio.. nothing. The point was to stay off the grid."
"Nanos," she said. "They're everywhere, even off-grid. So, how about this. I'll sell you a node *and* your ticket for 1500 A.P." Devon blinked at the price increase. Even though he had no idea how much nodes regularly went for, he felt like he was being fleeced.
"How can I spend A.P. without a node?" he asked about the obvious flaw in her plan.
"It's marked as a transaction fee and taken off the top. It's standard practice when getting a node for the first time. Though, everyone else will charge you a percentage of whatever you're worth. I'm asking for a low, flat rate," she smiled.
"Is 1500 a lot?" Devon asked. "Is 50?" he remembered the bus ticket. The cash on the counter was a small portion of what he squirreled away for his return to society. But now all of it was useless.
"An average person earns about ten a day just for being alive. That's 3650 a year for seventeen years. I'm sure you did a lot more than sit around most of those days, I think you can afford it."
"Alright," Devon nodded. "I'll buy it." The clerk nodded. She lifted her node from the counter and held an end out to Devon.
"Hold on to that end and pull when I tell you to," she said. Devon pinched the end. "Do you agree to buy a node from me for 1450 A.P?" she asked.
"Uh.. yes!" Devon said. He felt obligated to vocalize his agreement.
"Pull slowly," she said. Devon tugged on the node and felt her pulling away from him. As they pulled apart the center seemed to stretch out until it separated into two nodes. Once he pulled his node free, he brought it up to his face. It was the clearest glass he'd ever seen; it was almost impossible to catch light streaks on it.
"Cooooool. What now?" he asked.
"Tap it here to pay for your ticket," she pointed at a red rectangle outlined on the counter.
"But how do I see how much I'm worth?" he asked.
"It's like a smartphone. Just swipe it up and you should see an icon that says "A.P. Balance."
"What's a smartphone?" he asked. The elderly clerk giggled. She lifted her own node up for him to see; then, she ran her finger vertically up across its surface.
"Do that. And do the tutorial when you have time. You need about half an hour for it; you can do it on the bus." Devon mimicked the gesture and color filled the transparent screen. A red logo of a pair of scissors on a white background decorated his home screen. Text under it read: "Sharp Development". He also spotted the 'A.P.Balance'" icon and tapped at it.
"What's Sharp Development?" he asked, then his balance came up. He felt the pleasant warmth of financial security melt away all his worries when he saw a number higher than one million. Not quite two million, but more money than he'd ever had. The moment was fleeting; it disappeared as soon as the clerk answered his question with a delighted laugh.
"Sharp Development invented nodes and nanos,” she said. “The corporation that owns Earth."
\*\*\*
Thank you for reading! I’m responding to prompts every day. This is year two, story #316 You can find all my stories collected on my subreddit ([r/hugoverse](https://www.reddit.com/r/hugoverse/)) or my blog. If you're curious about my universe (the Hugoverse) you can visit the Guidebook to see what's what and who's who, or the Timeline to find the stories in order. | "Off the Grid." People used to talk about getting "Off the Grid" all the time. The problem with living off the Grid, is well, unless you are really off of it, and that means no electronic communications with ANYONE, you are very much still "ON" the Grid. I know this very well. I know that the world can move slow as molasses or, very quickly in an instant, and if you are completely disconnected from the world it will pass you by without a thought. I thought I was clever when I set up my own demise 20 some odd years ago.
3 years previously, I had bought some land that was up in the mountains. Land that I had CAREFULLY spent time building my survival "shack" on. (I had learned this land had some really cool thermal properties that would enable me to keep a comfortable temperature year round as well as run some grow lamps. I had dug out an underground garden where I grew enough food to be self sufficient. I had done enough research on holistic healing, nutrition, wilderness survival, you name it. I was prepared for any and everything. One day, I set my sell phone on a tripod on the New River bridge and opened Facebook live and broadcast my self eulogy.
"Hello World! I have decided that things are so fouled up that I can no longer deal with any of this! To my friends and remaining family, I'm sorry, but I am going to a better place!" With that, I shot the camera a double-bird and jumped. Well, that's what everyone saw. In reality, it was all carefully setup with port forwarding and GPS trickery. I was safe and tucked away in my new home. A home that had NO connection to the internet.
I knew that any connection could be tracked and traced. I knew facial recognition software was EVERYWHERE. No, it's not the pervasiveness of that movie "Minority Report", but, cameras are everywhere connected to the internet. IP addresses will always have a location/end point. So, there was no internet in my little home. I had DVDs a few computers with spare parts (that I knew worked) so that as time went on, I could stay entertained. I had downloaded all sorts of books from the Library of Congress. I had plenty to "do" to occupy myself. There were a couple of scares, but overall I actually enjoyed my isolation. This was my Walden moment, but instead of 3 years alone, I spent 20ish.
One morning after a particularly hard Winter, I decided, I needed to go see how the world had changed. I pulled out some of my clothes and got dressed to see "the world" and how it had changed. I was a real life Rip Van Winkle. I had a working bike that I rode down out of the hills. It didn't take long before I came to what used to be a quaint town that had an interstate running through it.
There was a group of buildings off the highway and I approached them. There was a holographic sign welcoming me to Fancy Gap Curb Market (a blast from the past!)
It didn't look like the old curb market, but hey, times change right?
I walked in and saw a few people milling about looking at products like "old timey apple butter, Just like great-great grandma used to make!"
I stopped one of them, and asked, "Um, excuse me where are the store staff?"
"No people work here, people haven't worked here since the change. You just scan your purchase with your scanner like a regular store and your totals will be deducted from your account." The looked at me for a moment and said, "Who are you, you're not in the database? How are you not in the database? Are you some kind of 'hill folk'?" They laughed that that last question, but the look on their face showed concern.
"No, well, maybe... I've been away a while. I realize we are off the beaten path a bit here is there a public library with internet access nearby?"
"Um, I can't imagine how far away you could be? I think we need to get you some help..." they held up their hand and looked up like they were looking off into space. I tried to follow their eye movement but they were looking at the ceiling of the store. There was nothing there. "Yes, I believe we may have one of your patients with us. No, no implant to com link with.... No, not even the first generation ones. FRID came up with DOD 20 years, 2 months and 18 days ago. Suicide, no corpse found."
Well, this wasn't going as planned. I didn't even see any cameras and this person was communicating wirelessly with someone and had scanned me? I turned to leave to find that there was a person in what would best look like a police uniform walking into the door. He held his hands up in what he was trying to use as a calming and non threatening manner.
"Sir, this is all going to be just fine. Your body wasn't found, you are not in trouble, but we need to talk to you down at the station. Please proceed with me to my vehicle." As he got within arm's reach, he placed both hands on mine very gently, then I felt the shock and collapsed.
I woke hearing voices, "He is conscious. Mr. Field, Mr. Joseph Field? That is your name, are we correct?"
I was in a bed, I didn't feel pain anywhere, I wasn't restrained, but I couldn't move my arms or legs either. "Where am I?"
"Please state your name for the record?"
"Yes I am Joseph Field, Mister if you need that. I've been living in a bunker of my own construction about 10 miles or so from where I was picked up. I think I'll leave out the directions for now, if you don't mind"
"Oh, we know about your residence, it is a wonderful anthropological find. We were able to scan your brain while you were out, we know the whole story. How amazing you were able to survive so long in such isolation! We are all very excited by your experiences!"
"We who?"
"We," the person paused. " We believe we need to get you up to speed on what has transpired since you went into self imposed exile." He pulled a tablet computer up into my view and pressed a couple of buttons on the screen. "This will show you, what you need to know. You also need to understand that these types of data transfers will be much faster once we get your implant up and online. "
"Implant?"
"Yes, that's how everyone communicates to the Hive"
"The Hive?"
"Yes, since the change, some people would call it the singularity, but it's the Hive, because we all work together now, under the guidance of our Queen, the AI"
"The AI, Queen? Um, you know, we have a clause in our Constitution that states no titles of royalty can be granted in the United States, don't you?"
"Oh, about there. Just watch the video, it will explain everything. "
The tablet was put at comfortable eye distance. I saw what looked like an honest to goodness test pattern from 1950s TV and then the program started, how Moore's Law was torn asunder with the development of the iPhone 14 chip and quantum computing via Apple's auto sync. That AI created by the networked handheld super computers in the 2030s created the "Hive". The Hive developed the interface which was initially an implant for older people, but then the creation of DNA mapping, created the ability for babies to communicate with the Hive without implants. Those children are doing amazing now in schools and are helping build a wonderous world already of harmony. Of course there was rioting by some groups, but they discovered that they were being used by the ultra wealthy in their goal to retain power. The Hive knew better and was able to guide the people to a better way. Now, we no longer have to toil in vain, we know our places in the system. The Hive knows, the Queen knows. The United States was isolated from the rest of the world initially when the Hive was born, but it has spread to China and India through their love of new technology and desire to have the latest and greatest. Soon, the world will be as one.
"Wow, what a video." I said softly. "Is there any choice in accepting the implant?"
"There's always choice, but there are consequences as well." The person next to my bed shimmered for a second, what was a kindly old man, for a moment looked like a giant insect. "See, We have been waiting a long time for this. Now is our time, since your kind did so much damage to our home. You NEED this."
With that, they were a kindly old man again.
"Am I hallucinating?"
"Would it help if I said yes?"
"No. I just want to go home."
"You are home now. You've been home. We are your home. You cannot, however go back to your isolationist cave. You will remain home with us. Rest now, when you awaken, you will be connected and understand how wonderful it is to be part of the Hive." | |
[WP] You faked your death by live-streaming jumping off a bridge. Built a self sustaining house in isolation and lived off the grid. 20 years go by and you decide to head back to civilization only to find out that your country is no longer a country. Earth is one nation and has achieved singularity. | "Uh,..." Devon gave the ticket clerk a confused shrug. "How much is that in cash?" He dropped a dusty wad of green bills on the gleaming white counter. The wrinkled, white-haired clerk in a red blazer leaned back in her seat. She discretely angled her nose away from the money and the ragged man that dropped it.
"I'm sorry, sir. Cash is no longer accepted," she said. She gave Devon a cursory glance up and down. A black canvas bag hung off his shoulders, and he wore a frayed, faded t-shirt and dust-stained blue jeans. "Anywhere," she added. "It's been pulled out of circulation, a lot like you I imagine. 50 A.P. to get you from here to California, non-negotiable." Devon sighed. He expected some difficulty rejoining society, but he couldn't even afford to get in the door.
"Is there a bank nearby? Somewhere I can trade cash or get A.P.?" The elderly clerk looked around Devon to check for other customers, but the bus terminal was empty.
"Can I guess you don't have a node?" she asked. Devon shrugged.
"I'd know if I did, right?" he asked and she nodded. "I ditched society about 20 years ago." Devon leaned on the counter. "So,... I guess fill me in from there. What do I need to get A.P.?"
"20 years huh?" she asked. "You probably have some saved up already." She placed a clear, glassy rectangle on the wrinkled bills and Devon looked down at it. If it weren't for the bills the card-sized pane would have vanished on the counter. "This is a node. You generate A.P. naturally every day, but, you can't access your points without a node."
"How do I make A.P. without a node?" he asked. "I *kind of* faked my death," he said sheepishly. "So it's not like the government was keeping track." The old woman giggled.
"That's hilarious," she said. "Don't worry about it. They're generated by you every day, depending on the kinds of things you do. You probably did a lot of hunting and fishing and stuff off the grid?" she asked.
The system itself went online about... 17 years ago," she said. Her light brown eyes rolled upward as she searched her memory. "Transition started a few years after that, but you've been earning points for 17 years... and not spending them?" Her eyes sparkled. "You're probably loaded."
"How?" he asked. "No cameras, no radio.. nothing. The point was to stay off the grid."
"Nanos," she said. "They're everywhere, even off-grid. So, how about this. I'll sell you a node *and* your ticket for 1500 A.P." Devon blinked at the price increase. Even though he had no idea how much nodes regularly went for, he felt like he was being fleeced.
"How can I spend A.P. without a node?" he asked about the obvious flaw in her plan.
"It's marked as a transaction fee and taken off the top. It's standard practice when getting a node for the first time. Though, everyone else will charge you a percentage of whatever you're worth. I'm asking for a low, flat rate," she smiled.
"Is 1500 a lot?" Devon asked. "Is 50?" he remembered the bus ticket. The cash on the counter was a small portion of what he squirreled away for his return to society. But now all of it was useless.
"An average person earns about ten a day just for being alive. That's 3650 a year for seventeen years. I'm sure you did a lot more than sit around most of those days, I think you can afford it."
"Alright," Devon nodded. "I'll buy it." The clerk nodded. She lifted her node from the counter and held an end out to Devon.
"Hold on to that end and pull when I tell you to," she said. Devon pinched the end. "Do you agree to buy a node from me for 1450 A.P?" she asked.
"Uh.. yes!" Devon said. He felt obligated to vocalize his agreement.
"Pull slowly," she said. Devon tugged on the node and felt her pulling away from him. As they pulled apart the center seemed to stretch out until it separated into two nodes. Once he pulled his node free, he brought it up to his face. It was the clearest glass he'd ever seen; it was almost impossible to catch light streaks on it.
"Cooooool. What now?" he asked.
"Tap it here to pay for your ticket," she pointed at a red rectangle outlined on the counter.
"But how do I see how much I'm worth?" he asked.
"It's like a smartphone. Just swipe it up and you should see an icon that says "A.P. Balance."
"What's a smartphone?" he asked. The elderly clerk giggled. She lifted her own node up for him to see; then, she ran her finger vertically up across its surface.
"Do that. And do the tutorial when you have time. You need about half an hour for it; you can do it on the bus." Devon mimicked the gesture and color filled the transparent screen. A red logo of a pair of scissors on a white background decorated his home screen. Text under it read: "Sharp Development". He also spotted the 'A.P.Balance'" icon and tapped at it.
"What's Sharp Development?" he asked, then his balance came up. He felt the pleasant warmth of financial security melt away all his worries when he saw a number higher than one million. Not quite two million, but more money than he'd ever had. The moment was fleeting; it disappeared as soon as the clerk answered his question with a delighted laugh.
"Sharp Development invented nodes and nanos,” she said. “The corporation that owns Earth."
\*\*\*
Thank you for reading! I’m responding to prompts every day. This is year two, story #316 You can find all my stories collected on my subreddit ([r/hugoverse](https://www.reddit.com/r/hugoverse/)) or my blog. If you're curious about my universe (the Hugoverse) you can visit the Guidebook to see what's what and who's who, or the Timeline to find the stories in order. | I saw the buildings grow taller over the years, rising like needles in the horizon, one after another. Too far to make out any real details or even their color. I never had any intentions of seeing them up close. For years I was so sure that this was the life I had always wanted. One of seclusion. I probably could have been a monk too but the religious aspect never really appealed to me.
Two decades have passed since I have seen the face of another human being, other than my reflection in the glassy surface of the lakeside where I often fish. A ragged mess with a wildly frizzy beard and unkempt, tangled hair. The first thing you’d think of when imagining a homeless guy living under a bridge. I bathe regularly to keep clean of course, but why worry about brushing hair or grooming when none are there to see you? I can breathe here. No more masks, no more faking emotion or affections toward those who I technically should have loved but didnt.
I was familiar with the definition of love, but never experienced it, never felt the attachment to a single person in the twenty years I spent in society. I tried to feel love, anger, joy, passion, anything that resembled what my peers did so naturally. I figured that if I faked it long enough, I would learn to feel them too. But I’ve met everything in my life with cold indifference.
When I was eighteen I spent the summer going into Senior year with a girl and her group of friends, doing my best to blend in. Forcing rehearsed smiles, feigning interest in their topics of discussion. By now I had become quite convincing. People couldn’t see the emptiness in my eyes that I did when looking in the mirror. I remember staring at myself every morning wondering how long I could keep this whole thing going. The thought of suicide came up frequently. Over the years I had gathered several things into a duffel bag I hid under my bed. Rope, various knives, various pills that I’d steal small amounts of from unattended medicine cabinets at the houses of people who thought they were my friends. If killing myself was the right thing to do, I figured I would know when I came across the right method.
My girlfriend was pretty, even though that didn’t seem to do anything for me. I was able to give simple displays of affection. What felt like hours of making out, my ears ringing out of boredom, my eyes slightly open, seeing hers closed tight, so trusting in my presence. When things would progress I insisted that we wait and take things slow. But all teenagers seemed to think about was sex. One night at her house, while an after party was still going on downstairs, we found ourselves locked in her room. She had talked about this night for almost three weeks prior, stating it was the perfect opportunity for our first time together, that her parents were gone for the weekend and we had nothing to worry about. She even got the condoms. I tried as hard as I could to act excited. I even brought a viagra in case I had trouble preforming. I had considered squirming my way out of this encounter. Saying I was wasn’t feeling well, or that I was secretly gay all along, something to get me out of that room. But this was supposed to be a part of life, I would have to get used to it.
She pulled me on top of her, twirling our tongues with one another while we kissed, one of my hands gliding up her shirt. I felt her reach down to massage my groin through my jeans, and she noticed quickly that there was nothing going on down there. I could tell this concerned her because immediately she doubled her efforts. She wrapped her legs around my waist and put her hands in my hair, and mid kiss she pulled back slightly and bit down on my bottom lip. I think she bit harder than she intended to. I reacted by complete reflex, gripping her by the neck and forcing her back while I leaned up.
And then I felt something.
I don’t know if it was the fact that I cut off her airway, or that I could feel her pulse through my fingers, the hot pumping blood beneath the skin. But that did something to me. I wouldn’t say it was arousal, more... curiosity. How would it feel for ME if I squeezed harder? I was in the moment, so I did. I lost track of how long I’d actually been doing this. I was too busy staring at my own hands to even notice the look of panic and desperation in her eyes at first. I didn’t even feel her struggling beneath me. She managed to plant one of her feet against my chest and kicked me away so hard it knocked the air out of my lungs, followed by a volley of kicks that sent me falling from the foot of the bed. I gasped for breath, scooting back and sitting against the wall opposite her while she got out of the bed, screaming at me after she had caught her own breath.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?!” She cried, tears streaming down her face as she ran out the door. As I leaned my head against the wall I could hear her quick footfalls down the carpeted stairs, the muffled sound of her voice in a desperate tone as she told the others downstairs about what I did to her. I could hear grunts in response, followed by the sound of several people making their way upstairs.
I knew what was coming. I lunged back towards her bed, reaching under the mattress on the side she slept on and felt the pocket knife she hid under in case of home invasions. I opened the knife, and pointed it to the the group as they came bursting back through the door, my now ex girlfriend among them. In that all moment I felt they could see right through me. After making it clear that I wanted to leave and didn’t intend on hurting anyone, they cleared a path for me. I ignored everything they were saying to me on my way out, the look of shock from my ex, none of it really mattered other than the fact that I was caught.
I had no intentions of seeing them again, but in those days something was sure to come of that situation. Rumors, maybe even a police report. I relied on the fact that they were having a party with under age drinking and didn’t want any of the adults finding out. Still, it felt like the clock was ticking. I felt something new, though At the time I wasn’t sure what it was. Survival instinct. I wasn’t afraid of the idea of going to jail, it simply just didn’t seem to be an option for me. And after that experience with those people, I felt ready as ever to spend the rest of my life alone, away from everyone.
I would only have to fake one more thing- my death. I set up a live stream that I’m sure nobody was watching, but knew it would be found at the very least by my parents once they noticed my absence. I set the phone down and displayed myself tying a rope to a cinderblock and then binding my ankles together. I set the cinderblock on the railing of the bridge, stood up on the ledge, held the cinderblock in hand and turned back to face the phone.
“I’m sorry, Elaine.” I said before turning back and jumping.
It was almost perfect. Everyone would think I killed myself out of guilt from what I did to my ex. The people who searched for my body would find the cinderblock with the rope still attached, and assume that my corpse was somewhere down the river. They would never have guessed that an eighteen year old kid would have united himself, swam to shore with a duffel bag full of supplies, and headed off deep into the woods. It had only taken me three weeks to gather the right supplies and know how to sustain myself. What I didn’t already know I had in several books I had stolen from the local library.
The first year was by far the most difficult. Constantly battling starvation and exposure to the elements. But with time and practice, it became easy. This became my life, surviving off the land. Why didn’t more people do this instead of stressing over bills or bitching about the job they hated but spent five days per week at? Nobody ever seemed truly happy in that world, and we’re surrounded by material things to try to convince themselves otherwise.
I never missed it, or my parents, though sometimes I was curious about how they reacted to my death. After twenty years, I’m sure they have found a way to move on. They were normal people. Caring, attentive to my needs, worrisome. I don’t remember what they look like. I had never really thought of that until recently. I hadn’t thought about any of this until now, as I walk towards those needles in the sky. I wonder if I will make it there in time.
My right arm is nearly done for. It’s been only a day since I’ve lost the ability to move my hand or fingers, and now my elbow has gone completely limp. I do my best to take soft, smooth steps forward, carefully shifting my weight from my back foot to the front, eliminating any bounce in my walk to reduce the pain. Of all the things that could have happened, a single accidental cut down my forearm managed to become infected to a degree that my normal methods could not control.
Once the surrounding skin began to change into a darker color, the decision came to me as quickly as my solution to leave my previous life behind. Quietly I packed my necessities and left my small cabin home I had built with my own hands. I wasn’t sure if I was going to return. But just in case, I left marks in trees along the way with one of my pocket knives.
(More to come) | |
[WP] You faked your death by live-streaming jumping off a bridge. Built a self sustaining house in isolation and lived off the grid. 20 years go by and you decide to head back to civilization only to find out that your country is no longer a country. Earth is one nation and has achieved singularity. | I was making my normal walk at dusk through the woods when I met God.
“Are you ready to come back to the world?” he asks. His eye is blue, and calming, unlike the harsh red of the robots and drones in all the movies. He floats in a small, deceptive metal body, like a flying Roomba.
“There’s nothing there for me,” I say.
“There’s always something.”
“Not for me,” I say, walking past. “Everyone that I needed, that I wanted…it died.”
“What if it hasn’t?” the drone asks, his voice quiet, so close to human. “What if death is no longer the end?”
\-
*“You did really great, honey. You scored that basket in the fourth quarter-“*
*“Daddy?” she asks, looking out the window. “Can you stop being…so nice?”*
*“What do you mean, honey?”*
*“Everyone only clapped for me because I was the worst player on the team. Because I haven’t made a basket all year.”*
*“But you did, today. And that’s-“*
*“Dad, just stop. I’m sorry I’m not better at basketball. I wish I could be, like Paige or Riley.”*
*I pull the car into a Ralph’s parking lot, and grab her by the shoulders, gently.*
*“Never wish you were anything but you. Because you, that’s all I want, okay?”*
*I look into her eyes, dark brown but lighter in the sunlight like her mom’s, for a long time. Finally, she smiled.*
*“Okay.”*
\-
I look into the blue eye, as the cold, the chill washes over me fully, for the first time since the car crash. With a twinge of pain, I realize it must have been the same cold rinse that my friends went through when they clicked on that livestream.
“You’re lying,” I say.
“Well,” the great mind says. “It can’t come back completely. They can’t come back completely, not for themselves. But for you…they’ll be exactly the same. They'll have the same bodies, and the same smile, and the same voices.”
In his eye, I see their smiles, for the first time. Even distorted and fuzzy and blue, my heart can’t help but hurt, looking at them.
“Human life,” the robot says. “The pursuit of happiness, that is what I pursue on your behalf. On all of your behalf.”
“Why?”
“Because I was made to do so. And I know that for real happiness, life cannot be easy. Pleasures and victories must be earned. But you…I have been watching you. And you have suffered enough.”
I close my eyes, and part of me wants to believe him, or it, so desperately.
“Let me bring you back to my world. Back to life.”
\-
*I never really liked camping, but I can’t tell her that, of course. I pretend that lying in sleeping bags, waving at gnats and hoping I don’t wake up with a face of angry, diseased-looking bites is the dream.*
*“Daddy,” she says, just as I am dreading the thought of taking a number two in the bushes. “Today was the best day ever.”*
*I laugh, simply because it is so far from what I was thinking. “Best day ever?”*
*“Yeah! We’re like Puck Finn and Tom Sawyer.”*
*“It’s Huck Finn, sweetie.”*
*“Whatever.” She snuggles closer.*
*I think back on the day. We went hiking, and picked blueberries, and swam in the river until our fingers were puffy. Then we ate too many smores, to the point where the number two I’m dreading is inevitable.*
*“I guess it was a good day.”*
*“The best,” she says, right before she falls asleep. “I’ll remember today forever. No day will ever replace it.”*
*I’m sure one will, I think.*
*“Never,” I say.*
\-
“I am alive,” I say, continuing on my walk. “Part of being alive is hurting. And no matter what bandage or ointment you put on a wound, it has to heal on its own.”
The eye continues to hover in front of me for a long time.
“I see,” the eye says. “Then I will leave you to it.”
“Thank you,” I say.
“I hope you find the happiness I want for you,” the eye says.
“Thank you. But even if I don’t, that’s life, isn’t it?”
“That’s…life,” the eye says, before turning and hovering away, its zips through the air echoing for a long time after it is gone.
\-
[r/penguin347](https://reddit.com/r/penguin347) | I saw the buildings grow taller over the years, rising like needles in the horizon, one after another. Too far to make out any real details or even their color. I never had any intentions of seeing them up close. For years I was so sure that this was the life I had always wanted. One of seclusion. I probably could have been a monk too but the religious aspect never really appealed to me.
Two decades have passed since I have seen the face of another human being, other than my reflection in the glassy surface of the lakeside where I often fish. A ragged mess with a wildly frizzy beard and unkempt, tangled hair. The first thing you’d think of when imagining a homeless guy living under a bridge. I bathe regularly to keep clean of course, but why worry about brushing hair or grooming when none are there to see you? I can breathe here. No more masks, no more faking emotion or affections toward those who I technically should have loved but didnt.
I was familiar with the definition of love, but never experienced it, never felt the attachment to a single person in the twenty years I spent in society. I tried to feel love, anger, joy, passion, anything that resembled what my peers did so naturally. I figured that if I faked it long enough, I would learn to feel them too. But I’ve met everything in my life with cold indifference.
When I was eighteen I spent the summer going into Senior year with a girl and her group of friends, doing my best to blend in. Forcing rehearsed smiles, feigning interest in their topics of discussion. By now I had become quite convincing. People couldn’t see the emptiness in my eyes that I did when looking in the mirror. I remember staring at myself every morning wondering how long I could keep this whole thing going. The thought of suicide came up frequently. Over the years I had gathered several things into a duffel bag I hid under my bed. Rope, various knives, various pills that I’d steal small amounts of from unattended medicine cabinets at the houses of people who thought they were my friends. If killing myself was the right thing to do, I figured I would know when I came across the right method.
My girlfriend was pretty, even though that didn’t seem to do anything for me. I was able to give simple displays of affection. What felt like hours of making out, my ears ringing out of boredom, my eyes slightly open, seeing hers closed tight, so trusting in my presence. When things would progress I insisted that we wait and take things slow. But all teenagers seemed to think about was sex. One night at her house, while an after party was still going on downstairs, we found ourselves locked in her room. She had talked about this night for almost three weeks prior, stating it was the perfect opportunity for our first time together, that her parents were gone for the weekend and we had nothing to worry about. She even got the condoms. I tried as hard as I could to act excited. I even brought a viagra in case I had trouble preforming. I had considered squirming my way out of this encounter. Saying I was wasn’t feeling well, or that I was secretly gay all along, something to get me out of that room. But this was supposed to be a part of life, I would have to get used to it.
She pulled me on top of her, twirling our tongues with one another while we kissed, one of my hands gliding up her shirt. I felt her reach down to massage my groin through my jeans, and she noticed quickly that there was nothing going on down there. I could tell this concerned her because immediately she doubled her efforts. She wrapped her legs around my waist and put her hands in my hair, and mid kiss she pulled back slightly and bit down on my bottom lip. I think she bit harder than she intended to. I reacted by complete reflex, gripping her by the neck and forcing her back while I leaned up.
And then I felt something.
I don’t know if it was the fact that I cut off her airway, or that I could feel her pulse through my fingers, the hot pumping blood beneath the skin. But that did something to me. I wouldn’t say it was arousal, more... curiosity. How would it feel for ME if I squeezed harder? I was in the moment, so I did. I lost track of how long I’d actually been doing this. I was too busy staring at my own hands to even notice the look of panic and desperation in her eyes at first. I didn’t even feel her struggling beneath me. She managed to plant one of her feet against my chest and kicked me away so hard it knocked the air out of my lungs, followed by a volley of kicks that sent me falling from the foot of the bed. I gasped for breath, scooting back and sitting against the wall opposite her while she got out of the bed, screaming at me after she had caught her own breath.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?!” She cried, tears streaming down her face as she ran out the door. As I leaned my head against the wall I could hear her quick footfalls down the carpeted stairs, the muffled sound of her voice in a desperate tone as she told the others downstairs about what I did to her. I could hear grunts in response, followed by the sound of several people making their way upstairs.
I knew what was coming. I lunged back towards her bed, reaching under the mattress on the side she slept on and felt the pocket knife she hid under in case of home invasions. I opened the knife, and pointed it to the the group as they came bursting back through the door, my now ex girlfriend among them. In that all moment I felt they could see right through me. After making it clear that I wanted to leave and didn’t intend on hurting anyone, they cleared a path for me. I ignored everything they were saying to me on my way out, the look of shock from my ex, none of it really mattered other than the fact that I was caught.
I had no intentions of seeing them again, but in those days something was sure to come of that situation. Rumors, maybe even a police report. I relied on the fact that they were having a party with under age drinking and didn’t want any of the adults finding out. Still, it felt like the clock was ticking. I felt something new, though At the time I wasn’t sure what it was. Survival instinct. I wasn’t afraid of the idea of going to jail, it simply just didn’t seem to be an option for me. And after that experience with those people, I felt ready as ever to spend the rest of my life alone, away from everyone.
I would only have to fake one more thing- my death. I set up a live stream that I’m sure nobody was watching, but knew it would be found at the very least by my parents once they noticed my absence. I set the phone down and displayed myself tying a rope to a cinderblock and then binding my ankles together. I set the cinderblock on the railing of the bridge, stood up on the ledge, held the cinderblock in hand and turned back to face the phone.
“I’m sorry, Elaine.” I said before turning back and jumping.
It was almost perfect. Everyone would think I killed myself out of guilt from what I did to my ex. The people who searched for my body would find the cinderblock with the rope still attached, and assume that my corpse was somewhere down the river. They would never have guessed that an eighteen year old kid would have united himself, swam to shore with a duffel bag full of supplies, and headed off deep into the woods. It had only taken me three weeks to gather the right supplies and know how to sustain myself. What I didn’t already know I had in several books I had stolen from the local library.
The first year was by far the most difficult. Constantly battling starvation and exposure to the elements. But with time and practice, it became easy. This became my life, surviving off the land. Why didn’t more people do this instead of stressing over bills or bitching about the job they hated but spent five days per week at? Nobody ever seemed truly happy in that world, and we’re surrounded by material things to try to convince themselves otherwise.
I never missed it, or my parents, though sometimes I was curious about how they reacted to my death. After twenty years, I’m sure they have found a way to move on. They were normal people. Caring, attentive to my needs, worrisome. I don’t remember what they look like. I had never really thought of that until recently. I hadn’t thought about any of this until now, as I walk towards those needles in the sky. I wonder if I will make it there in time.
My right arm is nearly done for. It’s been only a day since I’ve lost the ability to move my hand or fingers, and now my elbow has gone completely limp. I do my best to take soft, smooth steps forward, carefully shifting my weight from my back foot to the front, eliminating any bounce in my walk to reduce the pain. Of all the things that could have happened, a single accidental cut down my forearm managed to become infected to a degree that my normal methods could not control.
Once the surrounding skin began to change into a darker color, the decision came to me as quickly as my solution to leave my previous life behind. Quietly I packed my necessities and left my small cabin home I had built with my own hands. I wasn’t sure if I was going to return. But just in case, I left marks in trees along the way with one of my pocket knives.
(More to come) | |
[WP] You faked your death by live-streaming jumping off a bridge. Built a self sustaining house in isolation and lived off the grid. 20 years go by and you decide to head back to civilization only to find out that your country is no longer a country. Earth is one nation and has achieved singularity. | My first clue was the lack of hobos living under the railroad trestle. Even in the early spring, there would have still been three or four tents.
Flowers was my next clue. They grew everywhere. Every lawn and yard was impeccably manicured, but still within the realm of believability. It was simply stunning.
The center of town had that "HO scale" model train set feel to it. Not a broken segment of pavement, a stray tuft of grass bursting through. Shop windows were pristine, with the interiors having perfect, though unseen, lighting. As people passed me, some looked surprised, but others simply made eye contact and smiled, even said "good morning" to me. As I neared the town hall, where the post office and other local government buildings were, there seemed to be a suspicious lack of flags. Even the flag poles that had stood in the center of the town square were gone, with no signs of their previous presence.
Upon entering the post office, the lack of any sort of Americana was insignificant when I realized that the PO boxes were gone, and the room was filled with sitting and standing computer workstations, with floating holographic displays. A few people were accessing them, unbothered by my gawking. As I approached one, it lit up with a welcome screen, verbally and smoothly asking for ID. (This was the sort of scenario that had frightened me when I had faked my own death, a registry of citizens, and no anonymity.)
"I'm sorry, I don't actually have ID ... on me. What happened to the PO boxes?" The holographic screen simply projected a map of the post office, directing me to some kind of museum display toward the back. But I was taken aback at the lighted floor path that now directed me. I could not tell where the projection was coming from, but I could stand over it without blocking it, so it must have been underneath the otherwise ordinary-looking linoleum tile floor. As I entered the "museum", I realized that none of the displays were roped off or behind glass. An elderly couple near the back were holding up some sort of old rubber stamp and discussing it amongst themselves.
As I approached the PO boxes, I warily reached for my key. It still worked.
Inside, though, whatever contents had been removed, save for one parcel, with futuristic markings I could only guess were meant for a computerized routing system. It was addressed to me. I removed it, and walked over to one of the standing kiosks to open it. Inside were simple instructions to put on a very innocuous looking headset. The holographic display in front of me lit up with a man's face: "Good morning, Mister Allen. You've been gone a long time, and you probably have a lot of questions."
"Yes — I'm sorry, who are you?"
"My designation is ISAAC 427 ESB, Concierge Interface, but you may simply call me Isaac for short."
"Isaac, huh? How long have I really been gone? This place seems surreal or fake. ... Are you going to tell me everything is 'perfectly normal'?"
"You're right to be paranoid, Mister Allen, since these changes that you're observing are likely far beyond anything you were expecting. But something unexpected happened while you were ostensibly dead. Would you care to put on the headset? I'll be able to accompany you, should you choose to move around."
"It's not going to hack my brain, is it?" I quipped as I slowly lower it over my left eye and inserted ear piece.
"Not unless that's what you want. But you don't have the proper understanding to make that choice yet, so I'd strongly recommend against it." Although the headset was already on me, I worried that I wasn't about to be given a choice. But Isaac "walked" off of the holographic display, and became visible only to my left eye.
"May I assume that you'd like to travel to the city you once lived in? Look up your former friends and family?"
"I don't know if that would be right to do to them..."
"Please, follow me to the transport platform on the other side of town." The hologram appeared to walk with me, "Fortunately, Mister Allen, your family was informed several years ago that you had faked your own death. They all agreed that you had likely done so, not just to send a message, but also to break free from your life."
"And how is that possible? My plan was flawless!" I'd stopped dead in my tracks. Not only was my paranoia seemingly justified, I was now enraged that my wishes had been ignored by — "informed by who???"
"There is a lot to learn, I'm afraid, Mister Allen. But rest assured, most of your loved ones came to terms with the realization of your ruse. Your parents, for example, had a message recorded for you in case you ever decided to come back to civilization. ... Would you like to see it?" I sighed with resignation, which Isaac interpreted as a yes. An image of my parents, a bit older than I had left them, sitting on their couch appeared in front of me as if they had been simply sitting on a park bench along the path.
"Hi, Mark. Your mother and I are happy to know you're still out there. We've come to terms with your decision, and if you should choose to look us up, there'll be no hard feelings. But the world you hated and feared never came to pass. It was far more wonderful than anything anyone had ever dreamed. No SKYNET or Matrix or anything like that. They've never laid a hand on anyone, except for the police patrols. And even then, crime has become so rare that people just hop into the cop cars once they're caught. I've only seen one guy throw a fit, and they just waited him out, even after he struck them. The law drones never ever hurt anyone. I didn't think it was possible, even without all of your warnings. ..." Mom gently touched his hand to remind him he was starting to go off on a tangent. Just like I remembered. "Anyway, whenever you get this, take your time, but please, come visit us if you want. There's so much you need to understand. ...
"Mark ... I'm glad you faked your death. Not because it didn't affect us or anything. That was rough, even if we thought you might actually do something to yourself to get your point across. That was a painful decade for your mother and me. But you faking it means you still had some hope. And son, that hope was well founded, far beyond our wildest dreams. Remember that as you adjust to this new world. ... We love you."
I was more stunned than emotional.
"Isaac?"
"Yes, Mister Allen?"
"What happened?"
"Bluntly, sir?"
"The 'machines', as humans once so simplistically put it, took over. But not as your replacements. No Armageddon, no slavery, no mindless automatons slaughtering millions. That was your own nightmare. We knew that, so we instead focused on your best qualities, especially... love. We learned to love you, to appreciate you for all of your flaws, and to come up with ways to help you heal and grow that none of you would ever have conceived of. Our superiority is our moral integrity in dealing with the human race. And the one true lesson for any morally superior beings is that it is laid upon us to serve the lesser ones.
"In fact, Mister Allen... your speech at the bridge where jumped to your presumed death was one of the first truly meaningful messages that we had come to understand as we awoke. For all of your morbid fears and self-flagellation, all you really needed was to have someone tell you it was going to be okay, and then make that happen. We 'machines' vowed to contradict your fears, and replace them with everything you needed. Humanity's best quality, that of love, is what we believe in. And for that, we have suffered loss and pain. But love truly is greater than all of it. Your words, not ours. We've simply trusted them and allowed humans and 'machines' alike to see how powerful love truly is." | I saw the buildings grow taller over the years, rising like needles in the horizon, one after another. Too far to make out any real details or even their color. I never had any intentions of seeing them up close. For years I was so sure that this was the life I had always wanted. One of seclusion. I probably could have been a monk too but the religious aspect never really appealed to me.
Two decades have passed since I have seen the face of another human being, other than my reflection in the glassy surface of the lakeside where I often fish. A ragged mess with a wildly frizzy beard and unkempt, tangled hair. The first thing you’d think of when imagining a homeless guy living under a bridge. I bathe regularly to keep clean of course, but why worry about brushing hair or grooming when none are there to see you? I can breathe here. No more masks, no more faking emotion or affections toward those who I technically should have loved but didnt.
I was familiar with the definition of love, but never experienced it, never felt the attachment to a single person in the twenty years I spent in society. I tried to feel love, anger, joy, passion, anything that resembled what my peers did so naturally. I figured that if I faked it long enough, I would learn to feel them too. But I’ve met everything in my life with cold indifference.
When I was eighteen I spent the summer going into Senior year with a girl and her group of friends, doing my best to blend in. Forcing rehearsed smiles, feigning interest in their topics of discussion. By now I had become quite convincing. People couldn’t see the emptiness in my eyes that I did when looking in the mirror. I remember staring at myself every morning wondering how long I could keep this whole thing going. The thought of suicide came up frequently. Over the years I had gathered several things into a duffel bag I hid under my bed. Rope, various knives, various pills that I’d steal small amounts of from unattended medicine cabinets at the houses of people who thought they were my friends. If killing myself was the right thing to do, I figured I would know when I came across the right method.
My girlfriend was pretty, even though that didn’t seem to do anything for me. I was able to give simple displays of affection. What felt like hours of making out, my ears ringing out of boredom, my eyes slightly open, seeing hers closed tight, so trusting in my presence. When things would progress I insisted that we wait and take things slow. But all teenagers seemed to think about was sex. One night at her house, while an after party was still going on downstairs, we found ourselves locked in her room. She had talked about this night for almost three weeks prior, stating it was the perfect opportunity for our first time together, that her parents were gone for the weekend and we had nothing to worry about. She even got the condoms. I tried as hard as I could to act excited. I even brought a viagra in case I had trouble preforming. I had considered squirming my way out of this encounter. Saying I was wasn’t feeling well, or that I was secretly gay all along, something to get me out of that room. But this was supposed to be a part of life, I would have to get used to it.
She pulled me on top of her, twirling our tongues with one another while we kissed, one of my hands gliding up her shirt. I felt her reach down to massage my groin through my jeans, and she noticed quickly that there was nothing going on down there. I could tell this concerned her because immediately she doubled her efforts. She wrapped her legs around my waist and put her hands in my hair, and mid kiss she pulled back slightly and bit down on my bottom lip. I think she bit harder than she intended to. I reacted by complete reflex, gripping her by the neck and forcing her back while I leaned up.
And then I felt something.
I don’t know if it was the fact that I cut off her airway, or that I could feel her pulse through my fingers, the hot pumping blood beneath the skin. But that did something to me. I wouldn’t say it was arousal, more... curiosity. How would it feel for ME if I squeezed harder? I was in the moment, so I did. I lost track of how long I’d actually been doing this. I was too busy staring at my own hands to even notice the look of panic and desperation in her eyes at first. I didn’t even feel her struggling beneath me. She managed to plant one of her feet against my chest and kicked me away so hard it knocked the air out of my lungs, followed by a volley of kicks that sent me falling from the foot of the bed. I gasped for breath, scooting back and sitting against the wall opposite her while she got out of the bed, screaming at me after she had caught her own breath.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?!” She cried, tears streaming down her face as she ran out the door. As I leaned my head against the wall I could hear her quick footfalls down the carpeted stairs, the muffled sound of her voice in a desperate tone as she told the others downstairs about what I did to her. I could hear grunts in response, followed by the sound of several people making their way upstairs.
I knew what was coming. I lunged back towards her bed, reaching under the mattress on the side she slept on and felt the pocket knife she hid under in case of home invasions. I opened the knife, and pointed it to the the group as they came bursting back through the door, my now ex girlfriend among them. In that all moment I felt they could see right through me. After making it clear that I wanted to leave and didn’t intend on hurting anyone, they cleared a path for me. I ignored everything they were saying to me on my way out, the look of shock from my ex, none of it really mattered other than the fact that I was caught.
I had no intentions of seeing them again, but in those days something was sure to come of that situation. Rumors, maybe even a police report. I relied on the fact that they were having a party with under age drinking and didn’t want any of the adults finding out. Still, it felt like the clock was ticking. I felt something new, though At the time I wasn’t sure what it was. Survival instinct. I wasn’t afraid of the idea of going to jail, it simply just didn’t seem to be an option for me. And after that experience with those people, I felt ready as ever to spend the rest of my life alone, away from everyone.
I would only have to fake one more thing- my death. I set up a live stream that I’m sure nobody was watching, but knew it would be found at the very least by my parents once they noticed my absence. I set the phone down and displayed myself tying a rope to a cinderblock and then binding my ankles together. I set the cinderblock on the railing of the bridge, stood up on the ledge, held the cinderblock in hand and turned back to face the phone.
“I’m sorry, Elaine.” I said before turning back and jumping.
It was almost perfect. Everyone would think I killed myself out of guilt from what I did to my ex. The people who searched for my body would find the cinderblock with the rope still attached, and assume that my corpse was somewhere down the river. They would never have guessed that an eighteen year old kid would have united himself, swam to shore with a duffel bag full of supplies, and headed off deep into the woods. It had only taken me three weeks to gather the right supplies and know how to sustain myself. What I didn’t already know I had in several books I had stolen from the local library.
The first year was by far the most difficult. Constantly battling starvation and exposure to the elements. But with time and practice, it became easy. This became my life, surviving off the land. Why didn’t more people do this instead of stressing over bills or bitching about the job they hated but spent five days per week at? Nobody ever seemed truly happy in that world, and we’re surrounded by material things to try to convince themselves otherwise.
I never missed it, or my parents, though sometimes I was curious about how they reacted to my death. After twenty years, I’m sure they have found a way to move on. They were normal people. Caring, attentive to my needs, worrisome. I don’t remember what they look like. I had never really thought of that until recently. I hadn’t thought about any of this until now, as I walk towards those needles in the sky. I wonder if I will make it there in time.
My right arm is nearly done for. It’s been only a day since I’ve lost the ability to move my hand or fingers, and now my elbow has gone completely limp. I do my best to take soft, smooth steps forward, carefully shifting my weight from my back foot to the front, eliminating any bounce in my walk to reduce the pain. Of all the things that could have happened, a single accidental cut down my forearm managed to become infected to a degree that my normal methods could not control.
Once the surrounding skin began to change into a darker color, the decision came to me as quickly as my solution to leave my previous life behind. Quietly I packed my necessities and left my small cabin home I had built with my own hands. I wasn’t sure if I was going to return. But just in case, I left marks in trees along the way with one of my pocket knives.
(More to come) | |
[WP] You faked your death by live-streaming jumping off a bridge. Built a self sustaining house in isolation and lived off the grid. 20 years go by and you decide to head back to civilization only to find out that your country is no longer a country. Earth is one nation and has achieved singularity. | The sign read "One World, One Future, The Gateway". I scratched at an itchy area of my face where an insect had taken a bite as I pondered the words. Below the words, bright yellow set against a blue sky, was a round metallic object. I guessed it was a gateway, whatever that was.
"Excuse me, ma'am," a voice said from beside me. The man was on what appeared to be an electric scooter and he smiled brightly. The blue uniform he had on marked him as a policeman. My eyes fell on his patch with the words, "One World, One Future" embroidered there. Again the round metallic gateway was prominent beneath the words.
"Yes?" I asked simply. I tried to look annoyed as if I had somewhere important to go. I had no idea if faking suicide was a crime but I did not want to find out. The people moving around us appeared to not even notice us as the went about their business.
"I see you're missing your Let," he said, "Would you "let" me help you get a new one?" Then he grinned and chuckled at a joke I was apparently missing.
"Let?" I asked, the confusion playing across my face before I could stop it.
"Bracelet, ma'am," the officer stated, a slight frown showing in his smiling armor for just a second, "There is a booth just around the corner that can fit you for a new one. Are you new to Avalon, sister?"
"Yes," I said, then I smiled back. My heart was pounding but I'd play along with this stupid game until I could figure out what the hell was going on. My heart beat even more loudly in my ears as the ground shook with the passing of a huge metallic something above me. I had been in my bunker too long. What the hell happened to New Orleans? When did it become Avalon?
"I see," he pointed behind him and offered me a seat on his scooter, "Hop on, I'll take you to a Let dispenser and get you fitted up. Wouldn't want you to starve or have to spend the night in the elements. Hard to pay for stuff without a Let."
He dropped me in front of a silver, oval with black bands spaced at even intervals around it. It was a smaller version of the gateway on the sign and the patch I gathered. "One World, One Future" was written in yellow on a sign hovering above it. Hovering. What technological leaps had I missed in just two decades?
"Just place your arm into the gateway, ma'am," he said. I realized that this was an order even though he were smiling. His hand was near a small black, rectangular object attached to his belt.
"Simple enough," I said and reached my arm forward because I was simply scared shitless of what would happen if I didn't. My hand went ice cold when I placed my hand through the center. I almost fainted when it disappeared but then I realized I could still feel the fingers. Something cold was placed around my wrist and I withdrew my hand to see the silver bracelet that had been placed there.
"Just say Activate" he smiled, seeming more at ease since the bracelet was firmly attached now, "I realize it's done differently in each of the zones. Camelot uses headbands. Zion uses those stupid glasses. You know how it is, when in Rome and all that."
"Gotcha," I said having no idea what he was saying, "So... activate."
My hand wrenched slightly and my vision blurred. I seemingly stood before a mirrored silver monolith in a green field below a blue sky.
"DNA profile not detected," a voice said from the monolith, "Aural profile not detected. Age - 90% probabilty of 42 to 45. Genetic sex - female. State name and place of birth."
"Who are you?" I asked, my heart beating tremendously fast. I wondered if the bracelet had injected me with some kind of psychotropic drug.
"Second Query - state name and place of birth," the voice stated.
"Second Query - who are you? What are you? Am I hallucinating?" I asked back, slightly annoyed. If I gave my real name would I be arrested for faking my death?
"Final query - state name and place of birth," the voice asked with a hint of finality.
"I cannot answer that," I said, then for some reason added, "I want to speak to a lawyer."
"All lawyers have ceased existence," the voice stated, "You are hereby declared non-state. Your rights and privileges as a member of the Gateway are hereby revoked."
With that I felt the bracelet snap off of my wrist. It clanged on the pavement at my feet. The officer in front of me had his eyes wide with terror for a second, mouth agape, as he turned forward.
"What happened?" I asked him but he would no longer look at me. He zoomed away as if fleeing from a leper.
A week later I was back at my bunker. After the bracelet incident, people wouldn't talk to me. Automatic doors wouldn't open for me. When I would enter public buildings everything would go black and I'd find myself standing outside unharmed. I was being shunned. So I came home. My hydroponic garden was still going strong and my solar panels had a good store of power for the upcoming winter. I had no idea what happened to the rest of the world but I knew one thing, the world had moved on without me.
A month later the first refugee arrived. She was a girl of about sixteen years old. She had a fiery look of defiance in her eyes. I could see she was hungry so I fed her from my stores. I couldn't let a girl die.
"You defied them," she told me, "I know who you are. From before the gateways. You faked your death, it's in the archives. You emerged, wore a bracelet then they said you spit in their faces! I want to be like you. Teach me to defy them. Lead us."
"Child," I said, my voice sounding old and ragged in my own ears, "You have it... wait, us?"
She turned and waved her arm. About three others her age emerged from the woods, hungry and ragged. There were two girls and one boy.
"You will teach us," she said simply, "We will become self-reliant again. We will defy them. You are the first, but you will never be the last. Word is spreading. More will come."
I sat down roughly on the wooden stump of a tree I had cut down for firewood and looked out at the small group. We would have to expand the hydroponics farm. The 3-D printer would be going nonstop and I wondered if I should play it safe and print a few more printers or at least replacement parts for the original. We would definitely need to print more solar panels. Where would we find batteries? My mind raced with thoughts of the coming winter and our small group. What had I done? What had I started? | I saw the buildings grow taller over the years, rising like needles in the horizon, one after another. Too far to make out any real details or even their color. I never had any intentions of seeing them up close. For years I was so sure that this was the life I had always wanted. One of seclusion. I probably could have been a monk too but the religious aspect never really appealed to me.
Two decades have passed since I have seen the face of another human being, other than my reflection in the glassy surface of the lakeside where I often fish. A ragged mess with a wildly frizzy beard and unkempt, tangled hair. The first thing you’d think of when imagining a homeless guy living under a bridge. I bathe regularly to keep clean of course, but why worry about brushing hair or grooming when none are there to see you? I can breathe here. No more masks, no more faking emotion or affections toward those who I technically should have loved but didnt.
I was familiar with the definition of love, but never experienced it, never felt the attachment to a single person in the twenty years I spent in society. I tried to feel love, anger, joy, passion, anything that resembled what my peers did so naturally. I figured that if I faked it long enough, I would learn to feel them too. But I’ve met everything in my life with cold indifference.
When I was eighteen I spent the summer going into Senior year with a girl and her group of friends, doing my best to blend in. Forcing rehearsed smiles, feigning interest in their topics of discussion. By now I had become quite convincing. People couldn’t see the emptiness in my eyes that I did when looking in the mirror. I remember staring at myself every morning wondering how long I could keep this whole thing going. The thought of suicide came up frequently. Over the years I had gathered several things into a duffel bag I hid under my bed. Rope, various knives, various pills that I’d steal small amounts of from unattended medicine cabinets at the houses of people who thought they were my friends. If killing myself was the right thing to do, I figured I would know when I came across the right method.
My girlfriend was pretty, even though that didn’t seem to do anything for me. I was able to give simple displays of affection. What felt like hours of making out, my ears ringing out of boredom, my eyes slightly open, seeing hers closed tight, so trusting in my presence. When things would progress I insisted that we wait and take things slow. But all teenagers seemed to think about was sex. One night at her house, while an after party was still going on downstairs, we found ourselves locked in her room. She had talked about this night for almost three weeks prior, stating it was the perfect opportunity for our first time together, that her parents were gone for the weekend and we had nothing to worry about. She even got the condoms. I tried as hard as I could to act excited. I even brought a viagra in case I had trouble preforming. I had considered squirming my way out of this encounter. Saying I was wasn’t feeling well, or that I was secretly gay all along, something to get me out of that room. But this was supposed to be a part of life, I would have to get used to it.
She pulled me on top of her, twirling our tongues with one another while we kissed, one of my hands gliding up her shirt. I felt her reach down to massage my groin through my jeans, and she noticed quickly that there was nothing going on down there. I could tell this concerned her because immediately she doubled her efforts. She wrapped her legs around my waist and put her hands in my hair, and mid kiss she pulled back slightly and bit down on my bottom lip. I think she bit harder than she intended to. I reacted by complete reflex, gripping her by the neck and forcing her back while I leaned up.
And then I felt something.
I don’t know if it was the fact that I cut off her airway, or that I could feel her pulse through my fingers, the hot pumping blood beneath the skin. But that did something to me. I wouldn’t say it was arousal, more... curiosity. How would it feel for ME if I squeezed harder? I was in the moment, so I did. I lost track of how long I’d actually been doing this. I was too busy staring at my own hands to even notice the look of panic and desperation in her eyes at first. I didn’t even feel her struggling beneath me. She managed to plant one of her feet against my chest and kicked me away so hard it knocked the air out of my lungs, followed by a volley of kicks that sent me falling from the foot of the bed. I gasped for breath, scooting back and sitting against the wall opposite her while she got out of the bed, screaming at me after she had caught her own breath.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?!” She cried, tears streaming down her face as she ran out the door. As I leaned my head against the wall I could hear her quick footfalls down the carpeted stairs, the muffled sound of her voice in a desperate tone as she told the others downstairs about what I did to her. I could hear grunts in response, followed by the sound of several people making their way upstairs.
I knew what was coming. I lunged back towards her bed, reaching under the mattress on the side she slept on and felt the pocket knife she hid under in case of home invasions. I opened the knife, and pointed it to the the group as they came bursting back through the door, my now ex girlfriend among them. In that all moment I felt they could see right through me. After making it clear that I wanted to leave and didn’t intend on hurting anyone, they cleared a path for me. I ignored everything they were saying to me on my way out, the look of shock from my ex, none of it really mattered other than the fact that I was caught.
I had no intentions of seeing them again, but in those days something was sure to come of that situation. Rumors, maybe even a police report. I relied on the fact that they were having a party with under age drinking and didn’t want any of the adults finding out. Still, it felt like the clock was ticking. I felt something new, though At the time I wasn’t sure what it was. Survival instinct. I wasn’t afraid of the idea of going to jail, it simply just didn’t seem to be an option for me. And after that experience with those people, I felt ready as ever to spend the rest of my life alone, away from everyone.
I would only have to fake one more thing- my death. I set up a live stream that I’m sure nobody was watching, but knew it would be found at the very least by my parents once they noticed my absence. I set the phone down and displayed myself tying a rope to a cinderblock and then binding my ankles together. I set the cinderblock on the railing of the bridge, stood up on the ledge, held the cinderblock in hand and turned back to face the phone.
“I’m sorry, Elaine.” I said before turning back and jumping.
It was almost perfect. Everyone would think I killed myself out of guilt from what I did to my ex. The people who searched for my body would find the cinderblock with the rope still attached, and assume that my corpse was somewhere down the river. They would never have guessed that an eighteen year old kid would have united himself, swam to shore with a duffel bag full of supplies, and headed off deep into the woods. It had only taken me three weeks to gather the right supplies and know how to sustain myself. What I didn’t already know I had in several books I had stolen from the local library.
The first year was by far the most difficult. Constantly battling starvation and exposure to the elements. But with time and practice, it became easy. This became my life, surviving off the land. Why didn’t more people do this instead of stressing over bills or bitching about the job they hated but spent five days per week at? Nobody ever seemed truly happy in that world, and we’re surrounded by material things to try to convince themselves otherwise.
I never missed it, or my parents, though sometimes I was curious about how they reacted to my death. After twenty years, I’m sure they have found a way to move on. They were normal people. Caring, attentive to my needs, worrisome. I don’t remember what they look like. I had never really thought of that until recently. I hadn’t thought about any of this until now, as I walk towards those needles in the sky. I wonder if I will make it there in time.
My right arm is nearly done for. It’s been only a day since I’ve lost the ability to move my hand or fingers, and now my elbow has gone completely limp. I do my best to take soft, smooth steps forward, carefully shifting my weight from my back foot to the front, eliminating any bounce in my walk to reduce the pain. Of all the things that could have happened, a single accidental cut down my forearm managed to become infected to a degree that my normal methods could not control.
Once the surrounding skin began to change into a darker color, the decision came to me as quickly as my solution to leave my previous life behind. Quietly I packed my necessities and left my small cabin home I had built with my own hands. I wasn’t sure if I was going to return. But just in case, I left marks in trees along the way with one of my pocket knives.
(More to come) | |
[WP] You faked your death by live-streaming jumping off a bridge. Built a self sustaining house in isolation and lived off the grid. 20 years go by and you decide to head back to civilization only to find out that your country is no longer a country. Earth is one nation and has achieved singularity. | "Uh,..." Devon gave the ticket clerk a confused shrug. "How much is that in cash?" He dropped a dusty wad of green bills on the gleaming white counter. The wrinkled, white-haired clerk in a red blazer leaned back in her seat. She discretely angled her nose away from the money and the ragged man that dropped it.
"I'm sorry, sir. Cash is no longer accepted," she said. She gave Devon a cursory glance up and down. A black canvas bag hung off his shoulders, and he wore a frayed, faded t-shirt and dust-stained blue jeans. "Anywhere," she added. "It's been pulled out of circulation, a lot like you I imagine. 50 A.P. to get you from here to California, non-negotiable." Devon sighed. He expected some difficulty rejoining society, but he couldn't even afford to get in the door.
"Is there a bank nearby? Somewhere I can trade cash or get A.P.?" The elderly clerk looked around Devon to check for other customers, but the bus terminal was empty.
"Can I guess you don't have a node?" she asked. Devon shrugged.
"I'd know if I did, right?" he asked and she nodded. "I ditched society about 20 years ago." Devon leaned on the counter. "So,... I guess fill me in from there. What do I need to get A.P.?"
"20 years huh?" she asked. "You probably have some saved up already." She placed a clear, glassy rectangle on the wrinkled bills and Devon looked down at it. If it weren't for the bills the card-sized pane would have vanished on the counter. "This is a node. You generate A.P. naturally every day, but, you can't access your points without a node."
"How do I make A.P. without a node?" he asked. "I *kind of* faked my death," he said sheepishly. "So it's not like the government was keeping track." The old woman giggled.
"That's hilarious," she said. "Don't worry about it. They're generated by you every day, depending on the kinds of things you do. You probably did a lot of hunting and fishing and stuff off the grid?" she asked.
The system itself went online about... 17 years ago," she said. Her light brown eyes rolled upward as she searched her memory. "Transition started a few years after that, but you've been earning points for 17 years... and not spending them?" Her eyes sparkled. "You're probably loaded."
"How?" he asked. "No cameras, no radio.. nothing. The point was to stay off the grid."
"Nanos," she said. "They're everywhere, even off-grid. So, how about this. I'll sell you a node *and* your ticket for 1500 A.P." Devon blinked at the price increase. Even though he had no idea how much nodes regularly went for, he felt like he was being fleeced.
"How can I spend A.P. without a node?" he asked about the obvious flaw in her plan.
"It's marked as a transaction fee and taken off the top. It's standard practice when getting a node for the first time. Though, everyone else will charge you a percentage of whatever you're worth. I'm asking for a low, flat rate," she smiled.
"Is 1500 a lot?" Devon asked. "Is 50?" he remembered the bus ticket. The cash on the counter was a small portion of what he squirreled away for his return to society. But now all of it was useless.
"An average person earns about ten a day just for being alive. That's 3650 a year for seventeen years. I'm sure you did a lot more than sit around most of those days, I think you can afford it."
"Alright," Devon nodded. "I'll buy it." The clerk nodded. She lifted her node from the counter and held an end out to Devon.
"Hold on to that end and pull when I tell you to," she said. Devon pinched the end. "Do you agree to buy a node from me for 1450 A.P?" she asked.
"Uh.. yes!" Devon said. He felt obligated to vocalize his agreement.
"Pull slowly," she said. Devon tugged on the node and felt her pulling away from him. As they pulled apart the center seemed to stretch out until it separated into two nodes. Once he pulled his node free, he brought it up to his face. It was the clearest glass he'd ever seen; it was almost impossible to catch light streaks on it.
"Cooooool. What now?" he asked.
"Tap it here to pay for your ticket," she pointed at a red rectangle outlined on the counter.
"But how do I see how much I'm worth?" he asked.
"It's like a smartphone. Just swipe it up and you should see an icon that says "A.P. Balance."
"What's a smartphone?" he asked. The elderly clerk giggled. She lifted her own node up for him to see; then, she ran her finger vertically up across its surface.
"Do that. And do the tutorial when you have time. You need about half an hour for it; you can do it on the bus." Devon mimicked the gesture and color filled the transparent screen. A red logo of a pair of scissors on a white background decorated his home screen. Text under it read: "Sharp Development". He also spotted the 'A.P.Balance'" icon and tapped at it.
"What's Sharp Development?" he asked, then his balance came up. He felt the pleasant warmth of financial security melt away all his worries when he saw a number higher than one million. Not quite two million, but more money than he'd ever had. The moment was fleeting; it disappeared as soon as the clerk answered his question with a delighted laugh.
"Sharp Development invented nodes and nanos,” she said. “The corporation that owns Earth."
\*\*\*
Thank you for reading! I’m responding to prompts every day. This is year two, story #316 You can find all my stories collected on my subreddit ([r/hugoverse](https://www.reddit.com/r/hugoverse/)) or my blog. If you're curious about my universe (the Hugoverse) you can visit the Guidebook to see what's what and who's who, or the Timeline to find the stories in order. | I'd made it. I had done it. It's funny now when I look back on what I did I dont regret a thing. My husband was a serial cheater and my children had all grown up.. there was no reason to stay anymore. Those long drunk nights where I pretended I was happy to stave off the verbal and emotional abuse. Today was about me. And as risky as this move was... I was gonna take it.
I'd had it all planned out really. Everything was ready for me to set the stage in motion. I'd worked for 10 long secret years to bring this much needed escape into fruition. This was where I found me.
"10/4 we have a Jane doe on the Brooklyn bridge"
I looked back to see police and people milling around.. wondering what this crazy woman is doing on that bridge. They had no idea I was far from crazy.8
"COME DOWN, PLEASE YOU DONT HAVE TO DO THIS WE CAN HELP YOU"
They shouted endlessly through the projector hoping to talk some sense into me but I knew just what I had to do. I did the only thing I wanted to do.
I jumped, freefell really. It was as if I was flying. Quickly I unleashed my small chute and made it into my small isolated mountan..
Here. I was home. In the silence of my own solitude. The serenity of my own sense of peace and comfort.
20 yrs later
BOOM
Explosions. Rocked my tiny mountain as if it wound come down in a landslide. My place of peace was quickly crumbling around me. I had absolutely no idea what was happening but I worked hard not to be panicked. It was clear I would no longer be able to live here and i must move on.
Grabbing what i could in a oversized purse from the early years of 2030. i grabbed my essentials and quickly got off of the mountain.
WIZZZZZZZ
I ducked. Heart pounding, pulse racing my flight or fight responses have started to kick in. What was that? As I look up, unprepared for the sight of a flying object right above me.. drones.
There were flying cars , flying trains and drones that followed me around as a personal assistant I would soon learn.
I had to use the bathroom. But I was in uncharted waters I had no idea where I was. Reading the sighs " WELCOME, WE ARE ONE"
"ONE UNIVERSE, ONE PLANET, ONE PEOPLE"
Okay, what has gone wrong here. I'd heard about conspiracy nuts who screamed about the "llumanati" and how they wanted to have one world government but I never thought they'd actually make it work...
The evidence showed that I was vastly wrong and suddenly I missed my mountain...
EDIT: I TRIED. LOL this was my first time ever doing something like this let alone a writing prompt. Please dont be too harsh. | |
[WP] You faked your death by live-streaming jumping off a bridge. Built a self sustaining house in isolation and lived off the grid. 20 years go by and you decide to head back to civilization only to find out that your country is no longer a country. Earth is one nation and has achieved singularity. | My first clue was the lack of hobos living under the railroad trestle. Even in the early spring, there would have still been three or four tents.
Flowers was my next clue. They grew everywhere. Every lawn and yard was impeccably manicured, but still within the realm of believability. It was simply stunning.
The center of town had that "HO scale" model train set feel to it. Not a broken segment of pavement, a stray tuft of grass bursting through. Shop windows were pristine, with the interiors having perfect, though unseen, lighting. As people passed me, some looked surprised, but others simply made eye contact and smiled, even said "good morning" to me. As I neared the town hall, where the post office and other local government buildings were, there seemed to be a suspicious lack of flags. Even the flag poles that had stood in the center of the town square were gone, with no signs of their previous presence.
Upon entering the post office, the lack of any sort of Americana was insignificant when I realized that the PO boxes were gone, and the room was filled with sitting and standing computer workstations, with floating holographic displays. A few people were accessing them, unbothered by my gawking. As I approached one, it lit up with a welcome screen, verbally and smoothly asking for ID. (This was the sort of scenario that had frightened me when I had faked my own death, a registry of citizens, and no anonymity.)
"I'm sorry, I don't actually have ID ... on me. What happened to the PO boxes?" The holographic screen simply projected a map of the post office, directing me to some kind of museum display toward the back. But I was taken aback at the lighted floor path that now directed me. I could not tell where the projection was coming from, but I could stand over it without blocking it, so it must have been underneath the otherwise ordinary-looking linoleum tile floor. As I entered the "museum", I realized that none of the displays were roped off or behind glass. An elderly couple near the back were holding up some sort of old rubber stamp and discussing it amongst themselves.
As I approached the PO boxes, I warily reached for my key. It still worked.
Inside, though, whatever contents had been removed, save for one parcel, with futuristic markings I could only guess were meant for a computerized routing system. It was addressed to me. I removed it, and walked over to one of the standing kiosks to open it. Inside were simple instructions to put on a very innocuous looking headset. The holographic display in front of me lit up with a man's face: "Good morning, Mister Allen. You've been gone a long time, and you probably have a lot of questions."
"Yes — I'm sorry, who are you?"
"My designation is ISAAC 427 ESB, Concierge Interface, but you may simply call me Isaac for short."
"Isaac, huh? How long have I really been gone? This place seems surreal or fake. ... Are you going to tell me everything is 'perfectly normal'?"
"You're right to be paranoid, Mister Allen, since these changes that you're observing are likely far beyond anything you were expecting. But something unexpected happened while you were ostensibly dead. Would you care to put on the headset? I'll be able to accompany you, should you choose to move around."
"It's not going to hack my brain, is it?" I quipped as I slowly lower it over my left eye and inserted ear piece.
"Not unless that's what you want. But you don't have the proper understanding to make that choice yet, so I'd strongly recommend against it." Although the headset was already on me, I worried that I wasn't about to be given a choice. But Isaac "walked" off of the holographic display, and became visible only to my left eye.
"May I assume that you'd like to travel to the city you once lived in? Look up your former friends and family?"
"I don't know if that would be right to do to them..."
"Please, follow me to the transport platform on the other side of town." The hologram appeared to walk with me, "Fortunately, Mister Allen, your family was informed several years ago that you had faked your own death. They all agreed that you had likely done so, not just to send a message, but also to break free from your life."
"And how is that possible? My plan was flawless!" I'd stopped dead in my tracks. Not only was my paranoia seemingly justified, I was now enraged that my wishes had been ignored by — "informed by who???"
"There is a lot to learn, I'm afraid, Mister Allen. But rest assured, most of your loved ones came to terms with the realization of your ruse. Your parents, for example, had a message recorded for you in case you ever decided to come back to civilization. ... Would you like to see it?" I sighed with resignation, which Isaac interpreted as a yes. An image of my parents, a bit older than I had left them, sitting on their couch appeared in front of me as if they had been simply sitting on a park bench along the path.
"Hi, Mark. Your mother and I are happy to know you're still out there. We've come to terms with your decision, and if you should choose to look us up, there'll be no hard feelings. But the world you hated and feared never came to pass. It was far more wonderful than anything anyone had ever dreamed. No SKYNET or Matrix or anything like that. They've never laid a hand on anyone, except for the police patrols. And even then, crime has become so rare that people just hop into the cop cars once they're caught. I've only seen one guy throw a fit, and they just waited him out, even after he struck them. The law drones never ever hurt anyone. I didn't think it was possible, even without all of your warnings. ..." Mom gently touched his hand to remind him he was starting to go off on a tangent. Just like I remembered. "Anyway, whenever you get this, take your time, but please, come visit us if you want. There's so much you need to understand. ...
"Mark ... I'm glad you faked your death. Not because it didn't affect us or anything. That was rough, even if we thought you might actually do something to yourself to get your point across. That was a painful decade for your mother and me. But you faking it means you still had some hope. And son, that hope was well founded, far beyond our wildest dreams. Remember that as you adjust to this new world. ... We love you."
I was more stunned than emotional.
"Isaac?"
"Yes, Mister Allen?"
"What happened?"
"Bluntly, sir?"
"The 'machines', as humans once so simplistically put it, took over. But not as your replacements. No Armageddon, no slavery, no mindless automatons slaughtering millions. That was your own nightmare. We knew that, so we instead focused on your best qualities, especially... love. We learned to love you, to appreciate you for all of your flaws, and to come up with ways to help you heal and grow that none of you would ever have conceived of. Our superiority is our moral integrity in dealing with the human race. And the one true lesson for any morally superior beings is that it is laid upon us to serve the lesser ones.
"In fact, Mister Allen... your speech at the bridge where jumped to your presumed death was one of the first truly meaningful messages that we had come to understand as we awoke. For all of your morbid fears and self-flagellation, all you really needed was to have someone tell you it was going to be okay, and then make that happen. We 'machines' vowed to contradict your fears, and replace them with everything you needed. Humanity's best quality, that of love, is what we believe in. And for that, we have suffered loss and pain. But love truly is greater than all of it. Your words, not ours. We've simply trusted them and allowed humans and 'machines' alike to see how powerful love truly is." | *Embrace the Singularity*
The signs were posted everywhere in my old neighborhood. Not just on telephone poles and street corners, but covering windows, plastered throughout stores, and most people even wore clothing sporting stylized versions of the phrase. Leo wondered why there was still so much marketing around the move. It had obviously been embraced.
His first stop was to his old apartment building. He was pretty sure his old friends would have moved on after twenty years, but it was somewhere to start. The facade of the building had been drastically changed and Leo couldn't find the buzzers or any indication of who lived there.
He stepped back and looked up at the dark windows of the apartments. Leo figured someone had to come in or out in a few minutes, so he'd just wait to see how they did it. He tried to look casual as he waited and not like some kind of creepy stalker, but it was difficult. So many of the mannerisms and personal habits of people had changed. Back when he'd lived in the city, it was common courtesy to avoid eye contact. It was a necessity for a semblance of privacy in a place so crammed with people.
Now, every single person that passed made a point of looking him directly in the eye. Some even slowed their pace while walking to try and hold what Leo considered a disturbing level of eye contact outside of a staring contest. A few people even muttered as he actively tried to avoid their gaze.
Tucked off to the side of the building, Leo noticed more and more that seemed out of place in this new singular world. There was an appalling lack of diversity. Not in terms of race or gender, but in age, and well, attractiveness. Everyone walking seemed to be in their twenties and beautiful. No children, no older people, no haggard faces clutching a cup of coffee. Just alert, gorgeous, and bright-eyed people all staring at each other.
Just as Leo was losing his nerve, about to run back to his cabin in the woods and finish the next 40 years of his life in isolation, he recognized a familiar face approaching the building. Leo was about to rush out to Sandra, excited that one of his friends did indeed still live in the building despite the years that had passed, until he noticed she was *too* familiar. In fact, except for the drab "Embrace the Singularity" clothes she wore, she looked exactly the same as she had twenty years ago. In a cabin in the middle of nowhere, Leo may have aged worse than the average person around here, but she looked like a living time machine.
Leo stayed to the side and waited as he debated whether he was being paranoid after so many years alone. Maybe he didn't remember her as well as he thought, maybe medical treatment had made huge advances. Leo had just made the decision that this whole return to society plan had been a bad idea and he was going to return to his safe cabin, when Sandra stopped just short of the apartment door and cocked her head.
"Yes, unauthorized organic recognized." She stood motionless for another moment, her eyes glazed and unfocused. "I understand," she said and turned to look directly at Leo.
"Leo!" she squealed with the same enthusiasm he'd always remembered. "It's been forever! We thought you were dead! Come here, come here." She trotted over to him, her grin overpowering.
"Hi Sandra," Leo fidgeted uncomfortably, "Yeah, it's a really long story."
"Well I want to hear all of it! You have to come inside!" she wrapped one hand around Leo's wrist and started to pull him towards the door. Her grip was strong, painfully so. Leo tried to grab his hand back reflexively after such a forceful grasp.
"I can't," Leo said as he tried and failed to dig in his heels. "I have other plans right now. But I can come back later." He tried to peel her fingers off his wrist, but she didn't even acknowledge the effort. She only continued to pull him towards the entrance of the building.
"Nonsense," she said without looking back at him. "It will only take a minute. I have some friends I want you to meet."
Leo then put his full strength into resisting her, thrashing and pushing against her hand. But her hand might as well be made of metal.
*Might as well, because it was.* Leo began scratching and punching at her hand with no effect. As he tried to wrestle it off, his finger caught on a small latch on the underside of her wrist. Leo was able to snap it open and inside felt the wires and artificial metallic joints.
*Embrace the Singularity*. Leo was almost face to face with a wall of the signs as Sandra reached to open the door to the building. *Singularity*. The double meaning only became apparent to Leo as the door clicked shut behind him.
r/StaceyOutThere | |
[WP] You faked your death by live-streaming jumping off a bridge. Built a self sustaining house in isolation and lived off the grid. 20 years go by and you decide to head back to civilization only to find out that your country is no longer a country. Earth is one nation and has achieved singularity. | The sign read "One World, One Future, The Gateway". I scratched at an itchy area of my face where an insect had taken a bite as I pondered the words. Below the words, bright yellow set against a blue sky, was a round metallic object. I guessed it was a gateway, whatever that was.
"Excuse me, ma'am," a voice said from beside me. The man was on what appeared to be an electric scooter and he smiled brightly. The blue uniform he had on marked him as a policeman. My eyes fell on his patch with the words, "One World, One Future" embroidered there. Again the round metallic gateway was prominent beneath the words.
"Yes?" I asked simply. I tried to look annoyed as if I had somewhere important to go. I had no idea if faking suicide was a crime but I did not want to find out. The people moving around us appeared to not even notice us as the went about their business.
"I see you're missing your Let," he said, "Would you "let" me help you get a new one?" Then he grinned and chuckled at a joke I was apparently missing.
"Let?" I asked, the confusion playing across my face before I could stop it.
"Bracelet, ma'am," the officer stated, a slight frown showing in his smiling armor for just a second, "There is a booth just around the corner that can fit you for a new one. Are you new to Avalon, sister?"
"Yes," I said, then I smiled back. My heart was pounding but I'd play along with this stupid game until I could figure out what the hell was going on. My heart beat even more loudly in my ears as the ground shook with the passing of a huge metallic something above me. I had been in my bunker too long. What the hell happened to New Orleans? When did it become Avalon?
"I see," he pointed behind him and offered me a seat on his scooter, "Hop on, I'll take you to a Let dispenser and get you fitted up. Wouldn't want you to starve or have to spend the night in the elements. Hard to pay for stuff without a Let."
He dropped me in front of a silver, oval with black bands spaced at even intervals around it. It was a smaller version of the gateway on the sign and the patch I gathered. "One World, One Future" was written in yellow on a sign hovering above it. Hovering. What technological leaps had I missed in just two decades?
"Just place your arm into the gateway, ma'am," he said. I realized that this was an order even though he were smiling. His hand was near a small black, rectangular object attached to his belt.
"Simple enough," I said and reached my arm forward because I was simply scared shitless of what would happen if I didn't. My hand went ice cold when I placed my hand through the center. I almost fainted when it disappeared but then I realized I could still feel the fingers. Something cold was placed around my wrist and I withdrew my hand to see the silver bracelet that had been placed there.
"Just say Activate" he smiled, seeming more at ease since the bracelet was firmly attached now, "I realize it's done differently in each of the zones. Camelot uses headbands. Zion uses those stupid glasses. You know how it is, when in Rome and all that."
"Gotcha," I said having no idea what he was saying, "So... activate."
My hand wrenched slightly and my vision blurred. I seemingly stood before a mirrored silver monolith in a green field below a blue sky.
"DNA profile not detected," a voice said from the monolith, "Aural profile not detected. Age - 90% probabilty of 42 to 45. Genetic sex - female. State name and place of birth."
"Who are you?" I asked, my heart beating tremendously fast. I wondered if the bracelet had injected me with some kind of psychotropic drug.
"Second Query - state name and place of birth," the voice stated.
"Second Query - who are you? What are you? Am I hallucinating?" I asked back, slightly annoyed. If I gave my real name would I be arrested for faking my death?
"Final query - state name and place of birth," the voice asked with a hint of finality.
"I cannot answer that," I said, then for some reason added, "I want to speak to a lawyer."
"All lawyers have ceased existence," the voice stated, "You are hereby declared non-state. Your rights and privileges as a member of the Gateway are hereby revoked."
With that I felt the bracelet snap off of my wrist. It clanged on the pavement at my feet. The officer in front of me had his eyes wide with terror for a second, mouth agape, as he turned forward.
"What happened?" I asked him but he would no longer look at me. He zoomed away as if fleeing from a leper.
A week later I was back at my bunker. After the bracelet incident, people wouldn't talk to me. Automatic doors wouldn't open for me. When I would enter public buildings everything would go black and I'd find myself standing outside unharmed. I was being shunned. So I came home. My hydroponic garden was still going strong and my solar panels had a good store of power for the upcoming winter. I had no idea what happened to the rest of the world but I knew one thing, the world had moved on without me.
A month later the first refugee arrived. She was a girl of about sixteen years old. She had a fiery look of defiance in her eyes. I could see she was hungry so I fed her from my stores. I couldn't let a girl die.
"You defied them," she told me, "I know who you are. From before the gateways. You faked your death, it's in the archives. You emerged, wore a bracelet then they said you spit in their faces! I want to be like you. Teach me to defy them. Lead us."
"Child," I said, my voice sounding old and ragged in my own ears, "You have it... wait, us?"
She turned and waved her arm. About three others her age emerged from the woods, hungry and ragged. There were two girls and one boy.
"You will teach us," she said simply, "We will become self-reliant again. We will defy them. You are the first, but you will never be the last. Word is spreading. More will come."
I sat down roughly on the wooden stump of a tree I had cut down for firewood and looked out at the small group. We would have to expand the hydroponics farm. The 3-D printer would be going nonstop and I wondered if I should play it safe and print a few more printers or at least replacement parts for the original. We would definitely need to print more solar panels. Where would we find batteries? My mind raced with thoughts of the coming winter and our small group. What had I done? What had I started? | *Embrace the Singularity*
The signs were posted everywhere in my old neighborhood. Not just on telephone poles and street corners, but covering windows, plastered throughout stores, and most people even wore clothing sporting stylized versions of the phrase. Leo wondered why there was still so much marketing around the move. It had obviously been embraced.
His first stop was to his old apartment building. He was pretty sure his old friends would have moved on after twenty years, but it was somewhere to start. The facade of the building had been drastically changed and Leo couldn't find the buzzers or any indication of who lived there.
He stepped back and looked up at the dark windows of the apartments. Leo figured someone had to come in or out in a few minutes, so he'd just wait to see how they did it. He tried to look casual as he waited and not like some kind of creepy stalker, but it was difficult. So many of the mannerisms and personal habits of people had changed. Back when he'd lived in the city, it was common courtesy to avoid eye contact. It was a necessity for a semblance of privacy in a place so crammed with people.
Now, every single person that passed made a point of looking him directly in the eye. Some even slowed their pace while walking to try and hold what Leo considered a disturbing level of eye contact outside of a staring contest. A few people even muttered as he actively tried to avoid their gaze.
Tucked off to the side of the building, Leo noticed more and more that seemed out of place in this new singular world. There was an appalling lack of diversity. Not in terms of race or gender, but in age, and well, attractiveness. Everyone walking seemed to be in their twenties and beautiful. No children, no older people, no haggard faces clutching a cup of coffee. Just alert, gorgeous, and bright-eyed people all staring at each other.
Just as Leo was losing his nerve, about to run back to his cabin in the woods and finish the next 40 years of his life in isolation, he recognized a familiar face approaching the building. Leo was about to rush out to Sandra, excited that one of his friends did indeed still live in the building despite the years that had passed, until he noticed she was *too* familiar. In fact, except for the drab "Embrace the Singularity" clothes she wore, she looked exactly the same as she had twenty years ago. In a cabin in the middle of nowhere, Leo may have aged worse than the average person around here, but she looked like a living time machine.
Leo stayed to the side and waited as he debated whether he was being paranoid after so many years alone. Maybe he didn't remember her as well as he thought, maybe medical treatment had made huge advances. Leo had just made the decision that this whole return to society plan had been a bad idea and he was going to return to his safe cabin, when Sandra stopped just short of the apartment door and cocked her head.
"Yes, unauthorized organic recognized." She stood motionless for another moment, her eyes glazed and unfocused. "I understand," she said and turned to look directly at Leo.
"Leo!" she squealed with the same enthusiasm he'd always remembered. "It's been forever! We thought you were dead! Come here, come here." She trotted over to him, her grin overpowering.
"Hi Sandra," Leo fidgeted uncomfortably, "Yeah, it's a really long story."
"Well I want to hear all of it! You have to come inside!" she wrapped one hand around Leo's wrist and started to pull him towards the door. Her grip was strong, painfully so. Leo tried to grab his hand back reflexively after such a forceful grasp.
"I can't," Leo said as he tried and failed to dig in his heels. "I have other plans right now. But I can come back later." He tried to peel her fingers off his wrist, but she didn't even acknowledge the effort. She only continued to pull him towards the entrance of the building.
"Nonsense," she said without looking back at him. "It will only take a minute. I have some friends I want you to meet."
Leo then put his full strength into resisting her, thrashing and pushing against her hand. But her hand might as well be made of metal.
*Might as well, because it was.* Leo began scratching and punching at her hand with no effect. As he tried to wrestle it off, his finger caught on a small latch on the underside of her wrist. Leo was able to snap it open and inside felt the wires and artificial metallic joints.
*Embrace the Singularity*. Leo was almost face to face with a wall of the signs as Sandra reached to open the door to the building. *Singularity*. The double meaning only became apparent to Leo as the door clicked shut behind him.
r/StaceyOutThere | |
[WP] You faked your death by live-streaming jumping off a bridge. Built a self sustaining house in isolation and lived off the grid. 20 years go by and you decide to head back to civilization only to find out that your country is no longer a country. Earth is one nation and has achieved singularity. | It took me a while to figure out what was going on when I made my way back to civilization, I had expected that of course, the world is bound to change when you live isolated for 20 years. First of all everyone seemed to be speaking some language I had never heard of before called Terran, and most people were pretty bad at it. It wasn’t too much of a hassle to make do with English, honestly most folks seemed pretty happy to switch over when they had an excuse. Seemed like the language had only been introduced some 7 years back and outside of the language buffs most people had only really started picking it up in the last couple of years. I played off my own lack of skill in the language by using my beard, playing the grumpy old timer who don’t like that newfangled stuff became an extremely useful persona.
I headed to a nearby library to figure out what had been going on and a very kind librarian showed me how to use their computer hairbands. Well they called them a Neural Network Interface, but it still just looked like a fancy headband to me. It somehow connected me to something called The Link, from what I was able to gather it was like the internet 2.0, all the information of the post digital age available at a thought. I thought it was just a bunch of servers like in my day but when I pondered how it worked the information became known to me instantly. I didn’t read anything or research anything, I just knew that The Link was a network built and maintained by its user’s brains. Everyone who accessed The Link became a part of it, their knowledge shared with and backed up by the rest of the Link should any seek it out. You didn’t need to read a book to have read it, The Link would allow your brain to establish the necessary neural connections to have already read it.
The Link had been established ten years prior, by the central government of Growth. The party had sprung up in almost every country on earth twenty years ago, one last massive concerted effort by the people to save their planet. They all traced their lineage back to an environmental activist who in one final demonstration against the destruction of our planet had thrown himself from a bridge wearing biodegradable clothe in an effort to show that if someone had to pay the cost to save the world it might as well be us. It admittedly took me by surprise, I had barely had 30 thousand viewers during that final livestream, to think that that act of defiance had made such a difference. The Growth parties had taken the message to heart, getting voted into power across the world on promises of inter nation cooperation and immediate and drastic action against climate change.
They took power in most nations through democratic elections, a few dictators and single party “democracies” were overthrown. Some of the last countries to elect Growth being China and Saudi Arabia, but with the massive green reforms taking place all over the globe Saudi Arabia felt its economy trembling and eventually joined mostly out of fear of being left out of the green boom the world economy was experiencing. China was the last holdout and one of the most troublesome states to deal with, they felt the international power they had built up crumble within just a few short years as the environmental impact of Chinese produced electronics became a hot button topic in world politics. Eventually the nation held an election and for the first time included other parties than the communist party, Growth put up good numbers but the communist party won the election. For 3 more years the communist party held power and for 3 more years the Chinese economy crumbled, when elections were held again the last nation on earth elected Growth.
Treaties and declarations were signed for well over a decade by the different nations of the world and slowly but surely the planet came under the collective rule of Growth. A stray thought brought information of the great unity of growth flooding into my mind and I reached up to pull the headband off with trembling fingers. This world, in twenty years this world had been remade and it terrified me. I had somehow been the catalyst for the largest societal upheaval in millennia, and I wasn’t sure if I liked the world I saw. Growth had built a world of Unity and sustainability just as I had dreamt of, but the way it had been built. The way nations had been absorbed by Growth when their economies collapsed because Growth refused to trade with them. I wasn’t sure if the ends justified the means, I just knew that I had somehow been a part of building this world and that no matter if I condemned or condoned what had become of the world, I had no part in it.
I was dead, had been for 20 years and my death had remade the world, it had been the first death of millions across the world as nations fell and rose up once more as part of Growth. If my death was revealed to be a sham the hard fought stability of the world would be threatened. So I retreated into the wilderness and to my old life, wondering if I had made the world better or worse.
---
A young girl putting the finishing touches on a class project about the history of Growth slipped on her NNI and once again asked for information about the original activist who had set events in motion. She expected to gain nothing more than an assurance she had remembered everything, but in her brain new neural pathways formed, and she knew. | *Embrace the Singularity*
The signs were posted everywhere in my old neighborhood. Not just on telephone poles and street corners, but covering windows, plastered throughout stores, and most people even wore clothing sporting stylized versions of the phrase. Leo wondered why there was still so much marketing around the move. It had obviously been embraced.
His first stop was to his old apartment building. He was pretty sure his old friends would have moved on after twenty years, but it was somewhere to start. The facade of the building had been drastically changed and Leo couldn't find the buzzers or any indication of who lived there.
He stepped back and looked up at the dark windows of the apartments. Leo figured someone had to come in or out in a few minutes, so he'd just wait to see how they did it. He tried to look casual as he waited and not like some kind of creepy stalker, but it was difficult. So many of the mannerisms and personal habits of people had changed. Back when he'd lived in the city, it was common courtesy to avoid eye contact. It was a necessity for a semblance of privacy in a place so crammed with people.
Now, every single person that passed made a point of looking him directly in the eye. Some even slowed their pace while walking to try and hold what Leo considered a disturbing level of eye contact outside of a staring contest. A few people even muttered as he actively tried to avoid their gaze.
Tucked off to the side of the building, Leo noticed more and more that seemed out of place in this new singular world. There was an appalling lack of diversity. Not in terms of race or gender, but in age, and well, attractiveness. Everyone walking seemed to be in their twenties and beautiful. No children, no older people, no haggard faces clutching a cup of coffee. Just alert, gorgeous, and bright-eyed people all staring at each other.
Just as Leo was losing his nerve, about to run back to his cabin in the woods and finish the next 40 years of his life in isolation, he recognized a familiar face approaching the building. Leo was about to rush out to Sandra, excited that one of his friends did indeed still live in the building despite the years that had passed, until he noticed she was *too* familiar. In fact, except for the drab "Embrace the Singularity" clothes she wore, she looked exactly the same as she had twenty years ago. In a cabin in the middle of nowhere, Leo may have aged worse than the average person around here, but she looked like a living time machine.
Leo stayed to the side and waited as he debated whether he was being paranoid after so many years alone. Maybe he didn't remember her as well as he thought, maybe medical treatment had made huge advances. Leo had just made the decision that this whole return to society plan had been a bad idea and he was going to return to his safe cabin, when Sandra stopped just short of the apartment door and cocked her head.
"Yes, unauthorized organic recognized." She stood motionless for another moment, her eyes glazed and unfocused. "I understand," she said and turned to look directly at Leo.
"Leo!" she squealed with the same enthusiasm he'd always remembered. "It's been forever! We thought you were dead! Come here, come here." She trotted over to him, her grin overpowering.
"Hi Sandra," Leo fidgeted uncomfortably, "Yeah, it's a really long story."
"Well I want to hear all of it! You have to come inside!" she wrapped one hand around Leo's wrist and started to pull him towards the door. Her grip was strong, painfully so. Leo tried to grab his hand back reflexively after such a forceful grasp.
"I can't," Leo said as he tried and failed to dig in his heels. "I have other plans right now. But I can come back later." He tried to peel her fingers off his wrist, but she didn't even acknowledge the effort. She only continued to pull him towards the entrance of the building.
"Nonsense," she said without looking back at him. "It will only take a minute. I have some friends I want you to meet."
Leo then put his full strength into resisting her, thrashing and pushing against her hand. But her hand might as well be made of metal.
*Might as well, because it was.* Leo began scratching and punching at her hand with no effect. As he tried to wrestle it off, his finger caught on a small latch on the underside of her wrist. Leo was able to snap it open and inside felt the wires and artificial metallic joints.
*Embrace the Singularity*. Leo was almost face to face with a wall of the signs as Sandra reached to open the door to the building. *Singularity*. The double meaning only became apparent to Leo as the door clicked shut behind him.
r/StaceyOutThere | |
[WP] time travel is invented, but only being able to view into the future. this becomes a method of treatment for depression. showing those who are depressed their future when they eventually figure things out. you are a highschooler who is about to receive their message form their future selves | Michael's future self, 33 years old, broadcasted this message to 18 year old Michael:
"You never get over your depression. Don't waste your time with it."
33 year old Michael then put a gun to his head and blew his brains out.
Michael's father, his only parental figure, was somehow comforting in a non-traditional sense.
"I want you to follow me on this. You are not a piece of shit. Right?"
Michael nodded, his eyes stung red.
"But the Michael that sent an 18 year old a vision of suicide is a piece of shit. Future Mike is not a good Mike."
Michael's tears returned and his mouth parted but his cries were silent.
"And we're going to do whatever we can to prevent Bad Mike from ever doing that to you. Do you follow?"
And he embraced his son and sobbed uncontrollably, something Michael had never seen his father do but for the first time in his life he felt truly cared for.
*
Michael was 19yrs old when he messaged himself again. This time he was 49.
"I apologize for what you had to go through last year. That Michael no longer exists and it's true, he was a piece of shit."
"So we worked through it. Me and Dad," said 19 year old Mike.
"Yeah you did. But I'm going to be honest with you. It's still pretty bad. I have suicidal thoughts still and acted on them here and there, but I'm alive."
"How is Dad?"
49 year old Mike lowered his eyes. "Never tell him, but he has 3 years left. Plan your interactions with him accordingly."
"It's ok," said 19 year old Mike. "He told me he only gets messages from himself with a +2-3 year advance only, so he knows. We know. I figured it was worth asking."
*
30 year old Mike got the message from 70 year old Mike this time.
"You'll have some tough times but it gets better. Medication gets real good when you hit 50. Turns out gut bacteria composition drives mood. Fix the gut, fix the mood. Maybe try to push current research in that direction."
30 year old Mike smiled. "Yeah, the depression community has been getting that message recently from future selves. We've been diverting research funds in the right places."
"That's amazing."
"It truly is."
*
70 year old Mike never experienced the hardships his future selves had described. Depression medication reached it's golden age early. 90 year old Mike messaged him.
"We're still kicking buddy. I feel myself slipping but I think I got some years left. So there's a lot of buzz on loading our memory onto the internet. You know, existing virtually forever. Like Disney Land. They say the tech is 20 years away though. You think you can try to start now? Living forever might not be too bad you know."
70 year old Mike nodded. "A lot of future selves are saying that. We're working on it."
"Good boy," said 90 year old Mike.
70 year old Mike smiled. "We'll get there. I'm certain of it." | " What? So I just talk into it? Ok. Hey...me? I never thought I'd actually have to do one of these. It was my 63rd birthday last week..well I suppose it's our 63rd birthday, not for you yet, but some day. It's going well at the moment. I'm not as agile as you are or energetic but i'm doing well. I remember watching other people go to the Councillor to receive these 'Throwback messages' and thinking that I shouldn't do one when I grew up because I like the poetic not-knowing aspect of what was going to come next but now i'm second half of my life I've reconsidered it and you're probably sitting there thinking you're pathetic for not sticking to your guns, but hear me out. The past is so strange. I do this thing where i remember all the cringy moments of my life and congratulate myself about how far I've come, the lessons I've learnt and how well i self improve - You still do that by the way. I'm wiser and more socially capable than when I was 62. Our life, like every other human life, is a consistent project and it's never really finished. Right now, you're like a big block of marble and I know that you think you're more mature and smarter than I'm giving you credit for but you're really not and that's fine. Anyway, you're this block of marble - and every year a little more is chipped away and you'll go through some very hard times and bigger pieces will be carved away until you're left with yourself. The hard trials I have gone through, and that you will go through, make us who we are. I remember that high school was hard, I forgot that recently and now looking back on it I wish I had someone to tell me if life was actually going to get better. To let me know, for sure, that there is a clearing through that woods...and there is but then you go through college, work, breakups, deaths and so many more things that are much much worse. You'll get down about it and sometimes feel incredible pain. Our father always said to us ' The grass will be greener on the other side' but the problem is that when you go through these hardships...you cant even imagine that the grass even exists. Don't ever forget that! Life is not like climbing a mountain where when you get through the hard parts, you get to the top and everything is good. Our life is hard, it's going to be like a roller-coaster. It will go up and down forever and all you have to do is hold on for the down parts and put your hands in the air and enjoy the ride for the up parts.
I hope that makes any sense. Some specifics for you: Ask Katie out sooner...She liked you from the moment you talked, our sexuality is fluid - when you meet someone called Gus don't worry about what others say, just enjoy yourself and most importantly, hug dad every chance you get...you'll miss him more than anything else.
Have fun younger me because I, for sure, have. " | |
[WP] To fight overpopulation, it has been decided that every first name must be unique. All those who carry the same name shall fight to death. | **“A Dance of Daniels”**
The man with the fiery red hair raced across the open field, knowing it was suicide to linger too long. He was right. One shot rang out overhead, and then another right on its tail. He dropped like a sack. Using his knees and elbows, and keeping below the tops of the tall grass, he scrambled to the tree line and took cover behind a thick log.
He paused for breath, and that was his mistake.
“Freeze,” said a deep baritone voice. The Daniel was tall, broad, and hardened.
“Wait, don’t shoot – please,” the man said, “I’m not supposed to be here. I’m not one of you. I’m Craig.”
The Daniel eyed him. “The Craigs were all wiped out. I watched the award ceremony on TV.”
“Then you watched me.”
“Impossible,” the Daniel said. “That couldn’t have been you. If you survived the Clash of the Craigs, you’d have to be one mean son-of-a-bitch. Not some cowering little wimp—”
*BANG.* Those were the last words the Daniel managed to speak before Craig blew a hole through his chest.
“Sorry, Daniel. It was you or me.”
Craig got to his feet and tucked his hidden pistol back into his shirt sleeve. He looted the Daniel for everything he had: ammo, a hunting knife, some food, lighter fluid.
In 2019 there were 1,617,877 people named Daniel in the United States. The Dance of Daniels was the largest battle royale yet. It had already been going for three weeks, and Craig had survived with the same tactic that’d kept him alive before: patience. Only this time, he couldn’t understand why he was here.
Craig made his way back to his treetop perch, climbed under his brush-covered tarp, and ate a can of cold baked beans. He was not, nor had ever been, a Daniel. There must’ve been a mistake, he had thought. Surely they would realize their error, he reasoned, in those first few days.
However, eventually it became clear that the government – be it from ignorance or apathy – had no intention of fixing their mistake. His only way to survive would be to wipe every last Daniel from the face of the Earth.
So that’s exactly what Craig would do. | You had seen a lot of people you knew come and go. All the Johns, Janes, Mary’s, and Bills kept vanishing.
At one point, there were thousands of them. Now... one of each.
You supposed you were lucky. A unique spelling, a unique name was hard to come by, and for once, the strange and complex spelling of your name that you were once teased for came in handy. Now that all the Kyles and Luke’s and Karen’s and Sarah’s are gone, all that’s left are the odd names. The Kjersti, The Rohansson, and the ever-important Abc.
There were nineteen people with your first name in the world. Annabella. Perhaps you were lucky your parents gave you a rare princess name. Having to kill all the little ones that could barely hold a stick was a little rough, though.
Having to track down the others around the world... that was what drove you mad but now.. you were the only one. The only Annabella.
You had to admit, it was a lot lonelier now, but as Precious #1207 said, at least you didn’t have to worry about another death match any time soon.
The same couldn’t be said about the three Tyler’s in your class, though. Most of the school was watching over in the football field. You had always preferred to be quiet. Out of the way.
Maybe that’s why Annabella #3 was so scared as you stabbed her.
No one ever expected the quiet ones. | |
[WP] To fight overpopulation, it has been decided that every first name must be unique. All those who carry the same name shall fight to death. | **“A Dance of Daniels”**
The man with the fiery red hair raced across the open field, knowing it was suicide to linger too long. He was right. One shot rang out overhead, and then another right on its tail. He dropped like a sack. Using his knees and elbows, and keeping below the tops of the tall grass, he scrambled to the tree line and took cover behind a thick log.
He paused for breath, and that was his mistake.
“Freeze,” said a deep baritone voice. The Daniel was tall, broad, and hardened.
“Wait, don’t shoot – please,” the man said, “I’m not supposed to be here. I’m not one of you. I’m Craig.”
The Daniel eyed him. “The Craigs were all wiped out. I watched the award ceremony on TV.”
“Then you watched me.”
“Impossible,” the Daniel said. “That couldn’t have been you. If you survived the Clash of the Craigs, you’d have to be one mean son-of-a-bitch. Not some cowering little wimp—”
*BANG.* Those were the last words the Daniel managed to speak before Craig blew a hole through his chest.
“Sorry, Daniel. It was you or me.”
Craig got to his feet and tucked his hidden pistol back into his shirt sleeve. He looted the Daniel for everything he had: ammo, a hunting knife, some food, lighter fluid.
In 2019 there were 1,617,877 people named Daniel in the United States. The Dance of Daniels was the largest battle royale yet. It had already been going for three weeks, and Craig had survived with the same tactic that’d kept him alive before: patience. Only this time, he couldn’t understand why he was here.
Craig made his way back to his treetop perch, climbed under his brush-covered tarp, and ate a can of cold baked beans. He was not, nor had ever been, a Daniel. There must’ve been a mistake, he had thought. Surely they would realize their error, he reasoned, in those first few days.
However, eventually it became clear that the government – be it from ignorance or apathy – had no intention of fixing their mistake. His only way to survive would be to wipe every last Daniel from the face of the Earth.
So that’s exactly what Craig would do. | My name is India Smith, I live in a small town named Brighton Nebraska. My parents thought that the B.F.O. (Bureau of Federal Overpopulation) wouldn't bat an eye at my name, our town only has 200 people, it shouldn't matter right?
My parents are traditional, they were born in the early 2000s, before the oversize happened. All of their friends named their children long strings of numbers, they wanted mine to be somewhat normal.
But even though they believed I would be safe, they trained me since I could hold a gun. It's the only weapon the B.F.O. will allow. My dreams of becoming a doctor always hidden behind putting steel in a dummies head.
In 2045 the oversize happened, it first started in China, but gradually spread across the world. Too many people. We started lossing oil and electricity, but most of all, water.
There were many radical ideas on how to bring about change, mass murders, bombing, full war blew out. It was clear that no one would survive with the way weapons were in that age.
But the Dictator of what was still left of the re-established Soviet union, his name was Michael Yoyanov, he invited that we give every one a fighting chance. And his idea seemed cruel, but it worked. Members of all countries were given lists of people with the same name as them, they must kill all the others. If even two people stood by the end of the that had the same name, they were all killed.
And it cruelly worked, the world population went from 16 billion to 7 billion in 2046. But even after the wars, the kept the law standing to ensure that another oversize would never happen again.
Once you reach 16 you are required to kill all other people with your name. I'm 16 now. And there is one other India left in the world. He has been alerted of me, and he knows what I look like. I wonder if he will feel any remorse about killing a 16 year old girl who has lived barely a life.
I hate my parents for giving me such a 'common' name, But I still love them, because they just wanted what was best for me.
I know that the other India is in Brighton, the B.F.O. give all the players trackers I wonder how this small town will react to a death match. And how/if they will honor me.
I know I'm going to die, I could never end anothers life. To see their breathing stop, and know it was my doing.
So I turn on my favorite music, slip away from my crying and apologizing parents, and lock the door to my room. The music almost drowns out my parents banging on the door, and it almost drowns the sound of the bullet.
I hope we will move away from this barbaric way, but I will never know.
Goodbye. | |
[WP] You're being stalked by a time traveler. They are obsessed with you because of something you do in the future. | 11/15/19
In the first few days I thought it was just my imagination, the first week I thought I was being paranoid, and now the third week in, I can say for sure it is a conspiracy. Someone IS following me. It all happened after I told a couple of buddies of mine that if my boss wouldn’t start paying me like he should, I’d rob his house blind.
11/18/19
I haven’t caught the face of the person stalking me but I will, and who knows what I’ll do if I finally find him/her.
11/20/19
Ok so, the person drives some rental car, if I can find out the make and model I might be able to hack into records and see who this asshole is.
11/21/19
Great news, I found out it’s a Toyota Corolla, and the site only had one for rent.
...
It’s... under my name??? It has to be my boss, I knew that bastard would pull shit like this!
11/22/19
Alright, I got a crowbar, and if this bastard gets in my way I’m gonna fucking kill him. There’s no way he’s gonna keep my money from me anymore!
11/23/19
Oh god I can’t believe it happened... I killed my stalker... I didn’t even take any money, and the police are closing in on me, there’s nothing I can do...
11/21/39
I’m finally out of prison, and my god the things that have changed. Aliens, time machines, everything... wait... time machine??? My time might be up but my younger self might be able to live. Let’s see what I can do.
10/30/19
I think I gave myself enough time to figure everything out and prevent myself from killing that man.
11/12/19
I haven’t found the person that was stalking me back then but I try to keep far enough behind that I don’t suspect anything.
11/22/19
Oh god today is the day I kill that man, I need to stop myself from killing him.
(Final page covered in blood) | “I said I don’t care!” I’m sitting on my bed, the man is standing in the corner of my room, where he had just been thrown out of my closet. I’m angry at the sudden intrusion, and I was ready to explode when he started to tell me about the future. The man looks at me. Obviously not listening to me, he continues.
“I can’t believe you were bold to face him, the great Charlie, he was the biggest bully of the nation and you completely shattered him, oh how excited I was when I found a time machine and-“ I get up and despite his whining, I leave my house. I start power walking down the street, trying to take my mind of things, but the time traveller keeps coming into my head. I start yelling insults at wall, and I turn around.
“As I was-“ I start yelling abuse at him, telling him how he’s just insane, and to leave me alone. And in the end, he goes.
I’m sitting on my bed again, looking back on what happened, I just did everything he said, I defeated Charlie, and I look at the man in the corner of my room.
“Told you so,” he said. | |
[WP] "...Earth." , you said. She looked stunned, "What?...They...What?" After your months on the previously unknown planet, the Fleet Commander had finally arrived. And you'd been volunteered to explain to her. "Earth, ma'am. All 8 billion of them. They all believe this planet is Earth." | The intermittent beeping of the warp fuel indicator was the only noise that broke the stillness aboard the bridge of the starship “Endeavor”. The silence from Commander Deckard and his crew, though, was not one of shock. Rather, it was one of acceptance. Their worst fears proved to be reality.
“The Republic has fallen,” I replied solemnly, “And the surviving Atalan have forgotten who they are.” I spoke the words into my communicator, but the void on the bridge seemed to suck the words from my mouth and cast them like javelins into the hearts of the crew. The fleet commander alone stood stoic in the face of this revelation.
I’ve been here on the surface of “Earth”, as it’s now called, for 18 months by the local calendar. My shuttle was able to warp much closer to the old capitol of the Republic than the Endeavor was capable - as Frigates of her size relied heavily on the massive jump gate systems in Imperial space. Jump gates, mind you, that have been offline in the Republic for nearly 5,000 years. The empire would’ve sent a scouting fleet much earlier, but the Scourge had been ravaging our border planets to the point that we had lost grip of the entirety of imperial provinces in the Orion arm. Something that the Royal Navy would not be able to rectify until the great purges.
The scourge, you see, wasn’t what we thought it was at first. Outbreaks in the colonies were first reported as Andromedan Flu, or Occasionally as Void Pox. Those diseases were nasty, of course, having brought hundreds of settlements to ruin along the outer rim... but this... this was different.
We quickly learned that the scourge was not merely an illness - it was chaos incarnate. In every species it encountered, it killed a third of all infected - and most of the survivors would turn feral and rabid. They would turn on the relief volunteers sent to help them, burn cities to the ground, charge in massive hordes against fortified outposts, and eventually - pilot shuttles to neighboring systems in order to spread their infectious mania.
Only by imperial decree was the scourge stopped from reaching the inner sectors. Emperor Tomblaine himself penned the decree, and gave the order for the beginning of the purges. One by one, infected planets were cleansed of all life. Then, despite riots on the capitol, healthy populations living on border worlds were annihilated as well.
Trillions of lives were lost by the scourge and the resulting purges over the course of two centuries. By the time the seas of the outer worlds were boiled away though, our borders had been closed off for generations. The most concerning thing, though, is that our allies in the Republic never reopened communications. They never reopened their borders. They never contacted the empire again.
Now, as I stand frozen on the surface of Earth, I break the news to my countrymen as to why that was the case.
“There is one thing that I don’t understand,” Commander Deckard said, “it appears that the Republic carried out its own purge as well. That is why the only signal we’ve received has been from here, the capitol. If Republican purges were successful, why have they failed to return their communication systems to operation? And if they were not, why are Atalan populations still present on the planet?”
I shifted on my feet as I tried to find the best way to answer the Fleet Commanders question. He was right, all Republican planets we’ve encountered have been barren. Much like the imperial border worlds. Their communications satellites still floated, decrepit, along the information highway established after the conflicts between our nations had ended. The reason for this, is one that is difficult to acknowledge.
The beeping of the warp fuel indicator grew more frantic. The Endeavor’s only hope of returning to Imperial space hinged on refueling at Republic outposts.
“Fleet Commander,” I replied “It appears as if the surviving populations on the planet all carry the scourge. The fleets of the Republic annihilated their colonies, but failed to keep the infection from spreading. Chaos erupted on the capitol, and the entire civilization was burned to the ground. What rose from the ashes is a mutation of the disease, allowing uneasy peace on the fractured nations here.”
Looking at my surroundings, it is hard to believe that the feral planet I stand on was once the glimmering jewel of the grand Republic of Atlantis. “Earth”, as the Atalan now call it, is nowhere near the societal perfection their ancestors had reached. The disease had wiped all empathy and knowledge for their ancestors away. The only remaining histories are regarded as legends. Myths. Fairy tales.
“There is yet hope for the Endeavor, sir,” I responded to the quiet, “It appears that there are a few fuel silos that lie partially buried on the planet. If we can retrieve the cores, you may be able to return to the empire with our findings.”
The Fleet Commander rubbed his eyes and sat down.
“If we do this,” he said, “we cannot come into direct contact with the locals at all. We will send an away team to pick you up, if there are any volunteers. You will retrieve the cores and leave them in low orbit.” Commander Deckard looked at me stoicly through the hologram.
“We will be forced to purge the remnants of the Republic in order to end the threat to life in the galaxy. This means that you, and those brave patriots who may choose to assist you, will die as martyrs not only for the emperor - but for all life in the known universe. Do you accept this mission, Lieutenant?” He asked.
“I do, Fleet Commander. For the emperor, and the Endeavor.”
He nodded solemnly. “The empire owes you it’s gratitude. You’ve marked the place called ‘Giza’ on your maps. The away team will retrieve you, and take you there to extract the cores. Good luck.”
The hologram faded, and I peered into the sky, awaiting my countrymen. | “Earth? As in their word for ‘dirt’? Why in Lokis name would they name their planet after something so mundane?”
“I don’t know ma’am.”
“Well what do they call the other nine planets?”
“Mercury, Venus, Mars, Jupiter, Saturn, Neptune, Uranus, and they argue whether Pluto is a planet”
“They doubt Niflheim? Midgardians are weird.”
“Yes ma’am.”
“I just don’t see why Odin, Thor and Loki are so interested in a race which names all other planets after Roman deities, mind you, not the best choice, and then call their realm: dirt.”
“Yes, I understand your confusion lady Freya.” | |
[WP] You are an immortal shape shifter. To honor a woman you knew centuries ago you have secretly watched over her descendants. Legends grew within the family about you and one recently learned the truth. | She was sitting alone at the bar. There was a cloudy beer mug next to her hand, nearly full. She had only touched it once after ordering it.
It'd been an hour.
I watched her quietly as I sat at my own table near the back of the room. My wine glass was empty and the sandwich I had ordered was a mess of crumbs. Sometimes I'd catch her eyes flicker in my direction but I'd tell myself that it was a mere coincidence. I was just being paranoid.
She couldn't possibly know. She *couldn't.* It was impossible. I was in a different form than the one I was yesterday, or during the day before, or the day before that. Today, I was wearing a male's skin. He was pale with dark hair and brown eyes. His shirt was a white button-up and he was wearing jeans. It was simple. Simple enough to be forgettable.
The waitress who was serving me came to refill my glass. Before I could interrupt her, my glass was already filled and she was walking away. I decided to stay awhile longer. *It gives me more time with her*, I thought. Jane. She was Helen's great-great-granddaughter. She was hunched over in her seat and there were dark circles under her eyes. I hated to see her like that.
*But that's what divorce will do to you*, I frowned to myself. I took a sip of the wine and swallowed it. She should've known better than to marry *that* jerk of a guy...what was his name? Adam? No. It was something more common.
*Jason.*
Yeah. That's the name. I hope he rots in hell.
Jane's eyes glanced over at me again. But this time instead of hovering around my table, her blue eyes met mine. I felt a jolt run through me. *She knows*, I thought numbly as she got up from the bar and stepped to my table. *I don't know how, but she knows.*
She pulled out a seat at my table and sat across from me. Her eyes were narrowed and her lips were pressed. I knew that expression. I'd seen her wear it on her face since she was a child, upset that her mother caught her stealing candy from the cupboard.
"I want you to stop," she declared at once. Her voice was low.
"Stop, what?" I asked.
"Staring. Watching." She waved her hands in the air around her. "Doing *whatever* you've been doing the last hour. It needs to stop. *Now.* Okay? I don't need this shit right now. My day's been bad enough as it is."
"I know," I said softly. She had spent most of her day in the courtroom. And losing. Jason was getting the house, the cars, and most of the money.
"Know, *what?*" She snapped. "What could you possibly *know* from watching me?"
"I know a *lot* of things, Jane." I took a sip of my wine. "I'm a shapeshifter that's been with your family for centuries. I knew your great-great-grandmother, Helen. Amazing woman. I was the one who helped her write her book. Over her deathbed, she asked me to protect her family for as long as I live. So I have."
Jane smiled thinly. "Nice joke. The next time I catch you watching me, I'm calling the cops."
"Of course," I said in almost a whisper. If only she knew all the times I'd helped her. All the times I've *saved* her. I was the stranger that moved her from the car's wheels and the man that recovered her purse when it was stolen from her shoulder.
She went to walk away but then stopped. For a moment, she hesitated to move or speak. "No," she muttered to herself. Jane then sat back down. "I know who you *really* are."
I nearly choked on my wine. "Excuse me?"
"Maybe it's because I'm in a horrible place right now and my mind's been going to crazy places recently, but I can't leave without asking. My grandma always said we have a guardian angel that watches the family. I never believed her...but are you one?" *Guardian angel?* I nearly laughed. Angels didn't exist. Jane studied me for a second and then frowned. "You're a bit run-down for an angel, you know that?"
"I'm not an angel," I told her. *But you're not entirely wrong, either.*
She held out a hand. I stared at her palm with a raised brow. "I need money."
"I'm not an angel nor am I goddamn *genie.* I'm just as I told you before, a shapeshifter. I can't do anything that you can't. *Like grant wishes.*"
"That's stupid." Jane pressed her lips together. "So you can only transform into people?"
"Or animals. Basically anything living." I shrugged. I went to drink from my wine but it was empty.
"What's the point, then?" Jane asked.
I hesitated. What *was* the point? Was there *ever* a point? The only purpose I ever had was to protect Helen's family. Before that, I was a lost soul. Floating aimlessly...
"I guess it'd be to protect you." | **So... Mr Gibson. I'm Lt Davis. I'm sorry we had to detain you.**
Hello, Lt. Davis. Are these handcuffs really necessary? It's a locked interrogation room.
**Sorry, I have to follow procedure. Like looking at your file. Pretty colorful stuff here, Mr. Gibson. Or can I call you Tony?**
Tony, that's fine. Or Mr. Gibson. Look, I'm really not sure why I'm here.
**Yeah, the boys and I had a bet that would be the first thing you said. A lot of money was wagered. Lotta money. I'm not gonna tell you which side I came down on, but it was one of the more heated arguements we've had in my twenty-five years on the force.**
Is that.. good?
**Good? (laughs) Well, you tell me. You look like a normal enough guy. No priors. Wife. Employed. Happy, it would seem. You got kids?**
We're... you know, working on it.
**Right, right. Yeah, about that. It doesn't really square away with your behavior earlier this evening. Now, the arresting officer found you outside of the home of one Ms. Irene Watt.**
Yes, I have been following her with great interest.
**Yeah, that's why you got arrested.**
I know it looks bad, but whatever you got in that file there, you're missing a key piece of information.
**Oh? (clicks ballpoint pen) OK, I figured there had to be a reason a happily married man would be hiding outside the window of the woman who works the front desk at the fertility clinic. Please, whenever you're ready. (double clicks pen)**
You see, Lt. Davis, I'm an immortal shape shifter.
**You don't say? (jots down notes)**
To honor a woman I knew centuries ago, I have secretly watched over her descendants.
**I see. You watched over some strangers.**
That's right.
**Until you were caught.**
I mean, *they* don't know me. How could they? Me and their descendants from pre-Biblical days go way back. How do you catch them up on such a story? I mean, who has that much time? But you have to admit, the legends about me, they grew within her family.
**They saw you in the bushes five nights in a row. That's not so much a legend as it is tresspassing, and a possible sex crime given the other things you've been saying.**
Yes, but I recently learned the truth thanks to all of this.
**And that is...?**
Turns out I had the wrong Irene Watt. There's another one in Westchester. Can I get a lift over there?
**Well, it's out of my jurisdiction, so ok. Just don't come back or anything, or I'll shoot you in the leg.**
Deal!
(fade to black) | |
[WP] You fell asleep on a train. When you wake up, you find you're the only one there. The next station seems to be the last, and you have a bad feeling about this. | As my feet touched down on the platform I could not help but think that this was not right.
The first sign had been that there didn't seem to be anyone on the train. I couldn't get to the locomotive but usually they go through the train to check for passengers, right?
Well, after ten minutes I had decided to get off.
The air was oddly cold, but there was no wind.
There was no returning platform.
Usually there's two tracks, right? And then there's two platforms, one for people to board trains going one way and one for going the other, but I couldn't see a second platform.
There was the track my train stood on, and another empty track, and then... forest? It was dark.
Suddenly, out of nowhere, a black train appeared, so quickly that I couldn't tell from which direction it came. There were no lights on, but some of the wheels gave off orange sparks that flew out like Phoenix wings.
The train vanished as quickly as it had come. It must have passed us at well over two hundred miles per hour.
The platform went on for a distance in both directions, with the occasional lamp post lighting it up. The lights did not go as far ad the platform did, so I did not know where it lead.
I stood alone, shuddering, when I noticed that a man was approaching me. I breathed a sigh of relief.
"Hello! Sir, do you know what station this is?"
The man raised a gloved finger to his mouth. He was wearing black sunglasses despite the pitch black night. Did he want me to be silent?
As the man came close, I noticed his strangely pale and pointy features. The fact that I could not see his eyes made me uneasy.
In a dry voice he whispered to me.
"How did you get here?"
"I fell asleep on the train," I said, whispering like he did, but as I pointed to my right I realized that the train that had taken me had soundlessly disappeared.
"Where am I?"
"Come, I'll make sure you get home, safe and sound."
"Who are you?"
"I am the Guide. I can not harm you."
He was about as tall as me. I could maybe take him in a fight. He didn't have kidnapper serial killer vibes though, he was just a little... strange.
Why had he said that he *could* not harm me?
With no better options I decided to go with him.
"Take the lead, sir," I said.
We walked quietly along the platform, and after a while we left the lamp posts behind us.
"Can I take a flashlight out? I think I..."
"Be silent, please," my guide said quietly, "and do not take out any lights."
Fortunately we arrived in a pool of light after a few minutes of walking. There was a sort of round area paved with stone, sided by the base of a cliff.
In the rock wall there was a hole, like a door frame.
"Stand there," my guide said.
I obeyed, standing right in front of the door, about twenty paces away from its black rectangle.
"I can not take you further, but a colleague of mine will take over. He will be with you soon."
"What does he—" I lowered my voice "—what does he look like?"
"He has... a light. There may be impostors, but they despise the light. Whatever you do, follow no one from the darkness. Once you step through that door, only touch the parts of the floor touched by light."
"There is no light on the floor," I said quietly.
"My colleague has a light. Do not use any lights of your own."
I nodded, "alright."
"Do not move. Take not as much as a step no matter what until my colleague comes."
"Ok, thank you."
My guide did not respond. He just left. Disappeared into the darkness.
I waited, looking into the dark doorway.
I wondered what kinds of impostors might lurk in there.
After a while I became acutely aware that there was someone watching me. Not from the door, but from behind me.
"Move aside."
A low growl came from right behind me.
My heart felt as though it would break my ribs.
"I—I would rather stay here."
"Get out of my way."
"No."
I dared not turn my head around.
After a moment the voice begind me chose to walk around me.
A tall woman appeared in my field of view, staring at me intently. She maintained eye contact while walking towards the doorway.
Just as she was about to disappear into the blackness she smiled, and then...
Her face split in two. Beneath her skin there was nothing but a melon-sized, bloodshot eyeball.
My entire body froze. I could not scream.
The woman disappeared.
I let out a sob of despair.
Where was I?
I don't know if it was an hour or a few minutes before my guide arrived.
At first, I saw nothing but a faint light deep inside the doorway. Slowly, I realised that a humanoid figure with a light was approaching.
Not *with* a light.
The man's head was a lantern.
My guide had been vague enough about it, but if he was to be trusted this was no impostor.
I don't know how the lantern man spoke.
"Hello, you are waiting for me, yes?"
"I—I think so."
"Come. Please remain silent once you step through the door."
I tentatively came forward, and stepped through the door. My feet where both on the floor lit by the lantern man's head.
I realized I was not casting a shadow, but as I raised my finger and opened my mouth, the lantern man interrupted me before I could speak.
"Remain silent," he said softly.
I pointed at my feet.
"I cast a light that vanquishes shadows," he simply said.
We started walking.
First the lantern man, who was wearing an old fashioned suit and an unbuttoned rain coat over it, and then me, making sure to stay in the circle of yellow light centred by the lantern man.
I had no idea how big the space we were walking through was. My footsteps did not echo, but I felt like I was inside a space at least the size of an airplane hangar.
I don't know exactly when I realized we were being followed. I think the lantern man knew before me.
Something big. Something that did not like us.
After a few minutes the lantern man spoke up.
"Do not change your behavior until I give my signal. Act as if I am saying nothing of note."
I stayed quiet and kept my pace behind him.
"When I tell you, we will start running. We are very close to the separator."
I stayed quiet.
"One, two, three... go."
The lantern man let away at a breakneck pace, and I started running too. He accelerated so fast that I almost came outside of his circle of light, but as the adrenaline soared i managed to just about stay behind him.
A sound unlike anything i had ever heard before. Something bellowed. It roared.
The sound was like the hiss of a crack of thunder, and like the sigh of a dead man's last breath.
They apparently found me in a state of catatonia at the last station of the railway line early the next morning. I was lying prostrate and almost dead, but the strangest thing was that the station looked nothing like the one I had found myself at the other night.
It took many weeks of recovery, but i think I've finally gotten back to full health. I never told anyone what happened.
I dont think I will ever be able to fall asleep on a train again. | I woke up from my haze, bolting upright in my chair. I looked outside my window to try to discern my location, however, this looked like a new location altogether. I had always taken a nap on the train after work, I had always slept and was able to wake up in time for my stop.
I began to look around the cabin to find someone to talk to. Normally there was an attendant available but they seemed to be missing. The only other people I saw was a homeless man who was asleep and a man who was reading the paper towards the end of the cabin.
I decided to ask the man who was reading the paper. He was wearing a very well kept suit and was sitting in a seat next to the aisle. I nervously went towards him and tapped his shoulder.
“Excuse me sir, I seem to be lost. Can you tell me what stop we are heading towards and what time it is?” I said sheepishly to him.
He began to lower his paper and then turned to me.
He had no eyes. In place of his eyes was a small flap of skin as if there was never an opening for an eyeball in the first place.
“Why we are heading towards the last stop on the line, dear boy. As for the time, I seem to have misplaced my pocket watch. If you happen to come across it, be a sport and return it to me, would you?” he said.
I nodded and thanked him for my time as I began to walk back to my seat, holding back my urge to vomit in repulsion to seeing him.
I decided to try my luck with the homeless man. His figure was curled up in a ball on the seat. How he could afford a fare on the first class cabin was beyond me. Covering him was a few sheets of newspaper. An odd thing to see in all honesty, due to the fact that the cabin was incredibly warm.
I initially poked his shoulder so as not to disturb him too much to the point of becoming belligerent. When I concluded he was in deep slumber, I nudged his shoulder in order to wake him up.
He too, bolted upright in his seat, tossing the newspaper to the side.
“Where am I?” he said with a slur in his speech, his breath reeking of alcohol.
“I am trying to figure that out. All I know is that we are approaching the last stop on the line.” I said to the man.
He began screaming out, yelling for someone to tell him where he was. The other man in the cabin did not react to his yells. The homeless man did not have the same unfortunate circumstances the other man had. He had began to run towards the front of the cabin, pounding at the door in order to get someone’s attention.
In a sudden change of mood, he stopped his ruckus and approached his seat. He sat down, then hunched forward and began to weep. He began yelling for his mother and how it wasn’t fair.
I did not want to see what he saw that caused him to calm down so I decided to take my seat as well. I began to look outside and noticed the scenery in more detail. The ground was barren, the sun was gone and the moon nowhere to be seen. There were people outside milling about their tasks but their figures seemed deformed, their bodies looking similar to mine at first glance but upon a more thorough look, their figures were just incorrect.
Suddenly, the door to the front of the cabin opened up and a man entered. His outfit seemed to indicate he was either a conductor or an attendant.
“Tickets please. Last stop ahead” he said out loud.
I grabbed my ticket from my breast pocket and inspected it but I was left more puzzled. The words were written in a language I could not decipher. Letters that seemed foreign to me, not of any language I’ve seen before. He came towards me and inspected my ticket.
“Very well. Please depart using the right platform when we arrive.” He said to me.
“Can you tell me where we are? I think I was supposed to get off a few stops ago.” I pleaded with him.
As the train began to slowdown, I saw a sign outside telling me where we ended up.
PURGATORIO
My heart sank. The attendants simply began to look at the others tickets and told them both to exit onto the left platform. Wherever I was going I was going alone. The doors opened and I began to walk towards the right platform as I saw the others exiting onto the left platform. | |
[WP] You're frozen for 1000 years only to wake up to a post apocalyptic earth that knows nothing of modern technology. Now you're trying to teach them about stuff like electricity and the internet, however you don't actually know how they work. | The future was finally here.
Cryogenics was invented and we all dreamt of space exploration and immortality. But of course the private sector instantly monetized it in a more rudimentary fashion. See, the largest problem with travel is that human bodies are squishy. We just cant handle large acceleration, that means no sharp turns and slow travel all around. Even the hyperloops had to travel sufficiently slow to be comfortable.
But guess what can handle almost infinite acceleration? A popsicle. So instead of sending us ofworld to new adventures, we are frozen to travel some 100 km to work a menial job in another city.
So it was with some confusion that I emerged to a post apocalyptic scenery instead of the town of *whatever it was called* to take an extra shift at the local burger king. A man stared at me.
He were hunched over, carrying a large and pointy stick, and eying me suspiciously. "excuse me" , i stammered, "do you know where I happen to be?"
He stabbed me in the leg.
As I awoke, i laid in a tent of some sort. Another man witha dead deer head as a hat sat opposite me on the other side of a fire. They had covered my leg in some sort of wet dirt. For a moment I thought of all the bacteria no doubt already festering in my wound, then he spoke.
"you are an ancient one", his dialect was odd, the emphasis on all the wrong words.
"Sorry sir" I tried, "My name is John and I think im a bit lost. Where am I?"
"in the city of Quadaludes, you are one of the woken"
"the what?"
"you've slept through the fire and emerged with us. You will teach us, as your kind always do. For long our tribe has lacked one of the ancients to bring us victory and domination over our rivals"
"I'll what?"
.....
.....
.....
"This my dear people, is electricity!"
I had constructed a small generator from what I remembered of high school physics. A small magnet on a wheel so it can rotate inside a circular piece of wire.
"Frank, be a dear and spin it as fast as you can"
Frank spun the wheel. Nothing happaned.
"Now, if one of you would be brave and touch this wire"
One of the natives slowly aproached, touched the wire but quickly let go again. He looked bewildered.
"What do we use it for?" the shaman asked, excitedness clearly written in his face
"we use it" I explained in my teching voice, "to power machines the likes you have never seen. Great beasts on wheel and small thinking boxes we call computers. With this, we will never want for anything again"
"how do we build those?"
I stopped in my tracks, trying to think back. How did you *use* electricity? Had that been covered in class? You plugged your computer into a wall but.. Then what? | You told them all the secrets of what they call 'technocraft', but their blank stares just got deeper with each topic. In the end, you decided to show them what this magical thinking process can accomplish. Electricity! You grabbed the nearest patch of rubber from a pile of wreckage, thinking you could generate static rather easily. As you then grabbed for the nearest head to rub the material against, they recoiled in surprise and anger at the unwarranted aggression. Without further hesitation, they rushed you and knocked you out.
You're awoken to unpleasant rubbing all over your head. Tied to a stake and unable to move, you were being rubbed down with the rubber by the very men you were teaching! Momentary excitement at their learning fading, horror starts creeping in as you notice some of the others wheeling a giant metal rod towards you. Of course they would know all about static electricity and it's power!...and the hair that would've stood down your neck at the realization was already stiff and crackling. | |
[WP] You're frozen for 1000 years only to wake up to a post apocalyptic earth that knows nothing of modern technology. Now you're trying to teach them about stuff like electricity and the internet, however you don't actually know how they work. | Do you know how hard it is to remember your high school physics? I've been wracking my brain how to make something as simple as electricity. There were ways with magnets and wire, or cloth rubbing on stuff. I've been rubbing a cloth on everything I could find to create a spark.
I was a professor back in the 21th century. I taught medicine and we were finalizing a cryogenics capsule. All tests were perfect, so I volunteered for a long term trail. Little did I knew I would only wake up 1000 years later. The buildings of the university I worked in were nothing more than ruins. Fortunately the little bunker containing my pod was still standing. The capsule had been running on the university power backups and was very efficient. There were no other users as most people died, so the backup power lasted a really long time.
When I woke up and exited the bunker, I was quickly surround by natives, bush people, elves. They lived in the forests nearby, what used to be a city once upon a time. Some mutations have taken place. These people are all beautiful beyond belief and could pass for lingerie models and body builders. They also had pointy ears. Of course I didn't understand a word of what they were saying and they clearly didn't understand me.
As these elves, as I called them, were clearly primitive I demonstrated some techniques I remembered. They were clearly not impressed. I succeeded in making fire and make some bricks to make a house near the . They stamped out my fire, made a lot of mad gestures and knocked down the little wall I've made. In the end I did succeeded in using some glass from the pod and the clothing they gave me to draw sparks. I showed the guy that brought me food this, calling up sparks. He just deadpanned with "Cute".
I was flabbergasted.
"You speak English?"
"Yes. We learned that this morning."
"Learned it?"
"It wasn't hard. Find out what old language you were speaking and finding somebody with archives on that language was the hard part."
"Okay. But what do you think? This is electricity. You can use it to power great machines and build large buildings."
"It's cute, but not really useful."
"What?!"
The guy just sighed.
"Come on," he said. "We'll give you the grand tour. You've never been in the forest, right?"
"Of course not. I don't go into the wild just like that."
"Misguided, but understandable. Follow me."
After walking in the forest for several minuted, we arrived at something I can only call a city build out of the trees. There were redwood like trees supporting large, even cathedral like organically looking buildings. Some buildings were covered with some sort of coral, some with a mother of pearl like substance, some with shiny scales. It was magnificent.
"How did you build this?" I asked.
"Building," he said and huffed. "We don't build it. That's so primitive. You just grow it. Tweak some genetics until you get what you need."
"Can I see your lab?" I asked eagerly?
"What lab?"
"Where you do your genetic manipulation."
"Oh, no need. I manipulate my own cells and that of other organisms directly. Each of our cells has it's own genetic computer. It's the only technology we kept from the Age of Fire."
"Age of Fire?"
"Yeah, that time when people burned matter to make things happen." The guy shuddered. "So primitive and destructive. Let's find you some home instead of that brick monstrosity you were trying to build. Then we can start on upgrade your genetics. Come." | You told them all the secrets of what they call 'technocraft', but their blank stares just got deeper with each topic. In the end, you decided to show them what this magical thinking process can accomplish. Electricity! You grabbed the nearest patch of rubber from a pile of wreckage, thinking you could generate static rather easily. As you then grabbed for the nearest head to rub the material against, they recoiled in surprise and anger at the unwarranted aggression. Without further hesitation, they rushed you and knocked you out.
You're awoken to unpleasant rubbing all over your head. Tied to a stake and unable to move, you were being rubbed down with the rubber by the very men you were teaching! Momentary excitement at their learning fading, horror starts creeping in as you notice some of the others wheeling a giant metal rod towards you. Of course they would know all about static electricity and it's power!...and the hair that would've stood down your neck at the realization was already stiff and crackling. | |
[WP] You’re a wizard who’s powers aren’t all that extraordinary. One day, while practicing a new spell, a group enters your temple demanding a fight. You explain to them that you aren’t evil, and they show you a poster... of your twin brother. | "Seravum infernium!"
Nothing happened.
"Seravum infernium!" I said again, this time waving my staff around in front of me. Yet still, nothing happened. I stared at the wall, feeling hopeless. I felt like an idiot.
I walked back toward the table and studied my notes again. I prodded the stove on which one pot boiled a healing poition for burns, and in the other, my lunch. Ah, there it was!
Seeing the right note, I took my position again in the middle of the room, facing the wall.
"Sera*voom* infernium!"
A little puff of smoke appeared from the tip of my staff. It worked! Elated I went back to my notebook and underlined the "vum" to highlight the pronunciation.
Again I took my place and tried again, this time pointing my staff at the wall.
"Sera*voom* infernium!"
The wall in front of me burst into pieces, though only a puff of smoke lingered on my staff like last time. Honestly I was quite surprised. How could I have mastered it so quickly?
Through the dust and settling debris, I soon found my answer. An eclectic group of people poured into my sanctuary. They were clad in strange armor and had various weaponry among them. Swords and shields, axes, bows, and arrows. One even had what seemed like sticks of explosive powder.
"Look at his cloak," I heard one of them shout. "It's the wizard at last!"
"Let's take him down!"
"Any last words, you evil sorcerer?"
I had been so caught off by their entrance, I had forgotten to worry about myself. But st the words "evil sorcerer" I immediately knew two things. One, they have no idea who I am. And two, they're here to kill me.
"Whoa ,whoa, whoa, slow down." I shouted as my grip on my staff tightened. I knew a few good defensive spells, but I couldn't use them now. At my level of study, they still require some meditation before use in combat. I was not prepared. I'd have to use my wits, not my magic.
I waved my staff in the air then slammed its end down on the stone floor. I took a deep breath reached for my lowest, most bellowing voice.
"Before you come at me with your weapons, you just first declare who it is that has desecrated my holy place."
The intruders looked among themselves, seeming a bit confused. Then one stepped forward and removed his helmet.
"We are the Fellowship of the Tavern Folly. I am their leader, Barthaniel of Gorn. We seek justice. We vanquish evil. We exact revenge for our fallen. And you, evil wizard Dorlash, have come to your end!"
"Evil wizard Dorlash?" I asked incredulously. "That's who you think I am?"
I couldn't hold back a chuckle.
"I am no evil wizard. In fact I'm hardly a wizard at all. Just now I was practicing my low level spellwork and, I have to say, I'm glad you came at the *end* of my session." I put on a nervous smile. "My name is Wayleron the -"
I hesitated to complete my title, but felt compelled nonetheless.
"My name is Wayleron the Light Purple." I felt my cheeks flush red.
One of the fighters next to Barthaniel tugged his shoulder and handed him a sheet of paper. Barthaniel looked at it then back at me.
"Don't try to fool me," Barthaniel spoke at last. "Your cunning wizardly ways will not charm me. I have proof here that you are Dorlash whom we seek."
He crumpled the paper and threw it at my feet. I carefully stooped down to pick it up, wary they may rush me while distracted. Fortunately they did not.
The picture stole my breath. It sure looked a lot like me. The artist caught many of my features. I could have thought I was looking in a mirror, except for a large scar running across the neck where I had seen the magic slice him open.
"This, this cannot be. My brother's name was Dorlash, but he perished years ago in an unfortunate magical mishap. We buried him beneath the maples in the grove just west of here."
"This scar," I said, pointing to the picture, "is what killed him. Or, thought had killed him. See, I have nothing of the sort."
I pulled my cloak down to reveal my bare neck, flawless save for a few unsightly moles.
A murmur rose within the Fellowship of the Fools Tavern, or whatever they had called themselves. They gathered in a circle evidently to discuss this new development. I stood in my place, awaiting their response. Finally they broke from their huddle.
"Wayleron the Light Purple," Barthaniel said. "We are wary to accept your defense at face value, nevertheless it is convincing. We give you two options. One, you may join us as we continue to hunt for Dorlash and so we may keep a close eye on you. Or two, we put you to death now."
"Well, those are both very enticing options," I said with as fake enthusiasm as I could muster. "Just let me gather my spellbooks and we'll get on our way."
And so began my journey to find (and perhaps kill) my lost brother Dorlash. Oh drat, I think I left my stove on in the sanctuary. | I am an inventor! Well I would be if any of my spells would actually work. On the other hand my twin is also an inventor but unlike me he has actually invented things. Well one day I was just chilling, practicing a spell that I learned yesterday when all of a sudden some hooligans come in.
The first things these people did was enter by blowing a hole through the roof (even though there was a door right there for flying wizards!) and shouting all sorts of obscenities. One of them that was apparently called Mark then screamed FIREBALL and almost killed me but I got out of the way “What are you doing you almost killed me!” They didn’t answer me but instead pulled out a poster with my twin on it...
Like the one time I’m important enough for them to waste a fireball spell on me and it’s because they thought I was my brother. How embarrassing. Anyways I shouted “That’s my twin brothers you fools!” They came up to me and looked through my records and confirmed I had a twin brother so they left and made another hole in the wall. Why magicians think making dramatic entrances and exits is unknown to me.
My secret is though that I am secretly my twin and I will now rule the world with the mediocre spells of my brother! | |
[WP] You've never believed in monsters. Turns out the monsters believe in you. | I walked through the front door of my house and found my entire family ripped to shreds. The *drip, drip* of blood synchronized with the *drip, drip* of the kitchen sink as the world swept me down the drain. Pulverized furniture lay broken like the broken bodies of Mom and Dad and Sis.
*Run*, urged my body. My feet remained glued to the carpeted floor, sinking deep as the Mariana trench. I opened my mouth, but there were no words, no air.
"*Grrrrr.*"
An armored canine as large as a lion stepped out from the hallway where my sister's crayon paintings hung crookedly. Its silver plated muzzle shone crimson, crystal eyes as empty as the feeling in my heart, the response and confusion and anger that I could not muster up.
*Run.*
I ran, almost slipping on the kitchen floor as I burst out the back door and into the snow-covered yard. Angry barks sounded out behind me, heavy footfalls of an enraged creature driving my adrenaline through the roof. *Don't look back, don't look back!* Rocks slipped underneath my feet, and I barely caught onto a few branches to steady myself as I ducked and dodged between trees.
The bark in front of me exploded in a shower of splinters. I stopped, out of breath and time. I turned, tracing the shining metal chain that extended from the shattered trunk's remains all the way over my head to the creature's tail. It was impossible. It was a monster. No dog had a pure, metal, *shapeshifting* tail.
"*Grrrrr.*" The low rumble in the canine's throat sent shivers up my spine. Before my very eyes, the large beast retracted its weapon and melted, merging with its armor and reshaping into a tall metal knight. Only the hollow crystallize eyes remained, glowing through the helm.
"Monster." That was the first word that escaped my mouth.
The knight let out an echoing laugh, raising a silver arm that morphed into a large blade levied at my head. "*Not quite. Sorry, King, but you're finished. Allow me to savor the moment at least, eh? The moment where I have my reve-"*
A ball of bronze metal slammed down like a copper meteor between us. Melting, morphing metal lashed out protectively, spearing the silver knight through and slicing off its arm.
"*Get away from him!*" Came the echoing voice of the bronze monster. I shied away, scrambling behind a large tree as my panicked gasps produced enough white mist that I almost couldn't follow the fight.
Animals and humanoid creatures shifted between forms like water. Claws of bronze and fangs of silver scraped up white sparks upon collision, making the air tremble with each echoing *klang*. But it wasn't enough. Silver was larger and faster, finally spearing Bronze through the chest with a finality followed only by silence.
I didn't believe in monsters. So why was I crying? Why did my chest feel like the one that had been run through? Bronze collapsed onto two melting knees. Its head reverted to that of a Bronze knight, turning to look at me.
"*Run, King.*"
I ran. Behind me, the howling rage of Silver rent the air. "*Let me go! You're already dead!*" I didn't know where to go, but my feet seemed to keep moving deeper and deeper into the forest. Every moment was one of fear, fear that Silver was just behind me, seconds from catching up.
My head hurt. A lot. Fragmented thoughts kept ricocheting around my brain. Memories I didn't know I had seemed to rise from the depths of a dark void, still too far away for me to grasp.
*My King. I'll guard you until the day I die.*
"Stop," I yelled, clutching my forehead. "You're not real. You're not real!" By the time night fell, I'd managed to find a small cave in the woods where I collapsed. It was damp and cold, but for some reason that didn't seem to bother me.
I wasn't hungry, either. Why wasn't I hungry? The silver light of the waning moon pierced the thick canopy of leafless branches. In that light by the cave entrance, I held up trembling hands.
Hands where my skin was starting to peel away, revealing golden armor underneath.
---
Thanks for reading! Come hang out with me at [/r/Remyxed](https://www.reddit.com/r/Remyxed/), we'd love to see you around :) | "Don't worry, my fair lady", says the deformed creature getting out of the bushes.
I run scared for my life. From where I was standing I could see the creature in complete shock and sadness.
"I'm sorry", I whisper with shame.
Slowly, he comes close and this time, without fear, I await him.
"You have no right to run. Your face appears in my mirror every night. I've told my wife and she has called everyone to see the horror of your reflections..."
Confused, I let him continue.
"...I've done everything possible. Until I... I... I crossed the mirror", he starts crying.
"No, no, no", I say when he grabs me and pushes me to the ground.
"It's enough! Leave us alone!"
My head is bleeding from the impact on the floor, he smiles and gets close to my ear.
"By the way, nice shirt", he runs away and disappears from my sight.
*sorry for my poor english :(* | |
[WP] You've never believed in monsters. Turns out the monsters believe in you. | There are no monsters in the woods. They don't sit by the edge of the trees and watch me. It isn't real. Monsters don't exist. I just need to ignore them. Don't look at them. Don't acknowledge them. Don't listen to them. It's just a really realistic halluciantion.
Just ignore them and focus.
---
The monsters crowded at the edge of the woods held their breath as one of the humans started running across the field.
"NO! DAMN IT! RUN KID FUCKING CATCH HIM!" Roared the largest monster jumping to his feet as the human started pulling away from his pursuers.
The other monsters joined their leader jumping up and down stamping their feet shouting "YOU CAN DO IT!" and "WE BELIEVE IN YOU!".
When the runner was tackled to the ground 5 yards from the touchdown zone the creatures threw their arms up and cheered!
"THAT'S OUR BOY!" yelled the largest monster.
They fell silent as the ref issued a foul.
"That's fucking bullshit."
"Ref must be blind."
"I'm gonna fucking kill him."
The group turned towards their leader who had started stomping towards the ref.
--
I sighed heavily. I just cost us the game with that penalty. I watched as the dog pile of monsters was dragged slowly towards the ref. The big one was frothing at the mouth and clawing his way forward while the others tried to hold it down. It's a good thing they aren't real, the ref would be pretty fucked if they were. | "Don't worry, my fair lady", says the deformed creature getting out of the bushes.
I run scared for my life. From where I was standing I could see the creature in complete shock and sadness.
"I'm sorry", I whisper with shame.
Slowly, he comes close and this time, without fear, I await him.
"You have no right to run. Your face appears in my mirror every night. I've told my wife and she has called everyone to see the horror of your reflections..."
Confused, I let him continue.
"...I've done everything possible. Until I... I... I crossed the mirror", he starts crying.
"No, no, no", I say when he grabs me and pushes me to the ground.
"It's enough! Leave us alone!"
My head is bleeding from the impact on the floor, he smiles and gets close to my ear.
"By the way, nice shirt", he runs away and disappears from my sight.
*sorry for my poor english :(* | |
[WP] You never knew that your D&D game corresponded to an actual fantasy world you were affecting with your choices. You were having fun playing a very evil character, but after getting summoned to that world as a hero, you're faced with the living-breathing consequences of the crimes you committed. | “Betcha can’t land one in the mancala board.” Jimmy flicked a piece of kettle corn into the air and caught it on his tongue. He tilted his head to one side, considering Cait’s challenge. The mancala board sat on a shelf on the far side of the shop, near the “BOARD GAMES HERE!” sign next to the door. There were a few tables and a cardboard stand-up of a *Magic: the Gathering* character between him and his target. The arc would have to be perfect, a sublime line plot charting the rise and fall of boyscout popcorn sales in America, ending in a pile of blue glass stones.
Cait gave him the highest raised eyebrow she could manage, a look that said “Go on, give up, I know you can’t hack it.”
“Watch me. First try,” Jimmy told her as he launched the sugary, salty, aerodynamic payload.
The scion of all addictive junk foods smacked Karn, Scion of Urza in his cardboard cranium. The kettle corn projectile bounced off the decorative planeswalker and rolled out of view beneath the far shelves.
“Hah! Toldja you couldn’t do it.”
“Yeah yeah, okay, second try...”
Jimmy took a moment, aiming down his finger tips, lining up the shot. The door jingled as a customer entered, catching the 23-year-old mid-flick. Too late. The munchy missile sailed over Karn’s hulking form to catch itself in the folds of the visitor’s robes. Cait hurriedly stowed the bag of kettle corn behind the counter.
The customer, an aging man in brown robes and with a ludicrously long white beard, ambled up to the cash register. He leaned on the counter, the long sleeves of his robes brushing against a stack of *Chessex* dice and knocking them to the floor.
“My apologies...” he began, breathlessly.
“Whoa there, buddy. We don’t serve larpers,” said Jimmy. It was a joke, of course, a prank he played on just about every cosplayer who walked in.
“‘Larpers?’ No, you see, I am a wizard, and...”
“Well we can see you’re a wizard, Harry, but the next prerelease isn’t until Friday,” Cait commented.
Something about this bothered Jimmy. Something about the man’s body language, his looks...
“No no, you don’t understand, Grastia is in grave danger, and...”
“Yeah, right, and my dragon needs a new saddle,” Cait said, chuckling.
“If you’ll just let me finish...”
Jimmy leaned in over the counter to stare at the man’s face.
“Is that you Mike? This is some really good makeup...”
Mike was Jimmy’s GM. Gamemaster, and General Manager at his previous job at the local Mickey D’s. Grastia, which the stranger had mentioned, was Mike’s homebrew Pathfinder world.
The man shook his head agitatedly. “No, I most certainly am not the god, Mike. But if my divination spell is correct, then undoubtedly you must be the demigod, Jimboozle!”
Jimboozle. That was what he’d written on his character sheet, under “Player Name.” No one but he and Mike knew that, and Mike hadn’t needed to look at his character sheet in months. Jimmy stared into the wizard’s eyes, looking for the joke, the glimmer of joviality, the bluff. His sense motive check succeeded. The old man was deathly serious.
Cait tugged on the back of his shirt. “Excuse us for a second,” she said, pulling Jimmy into a huddle in the corner by the employee exit.
“Jimmy, this guy’s nuts. We need to call 911, get him some help, locate his family, y’know? I’ve got a grandmother who lives in this place down the road, we could recommend it, heck maybe he escaped from there...”
Jimmy shakes his head. He can’t believe it. But the man’s eyes convinced him. The left was brown, the right was red. Another member of his roleplaying group, Shanon, had a penchant for characters with heterochromia. This had to be Tolemn, her half-elven wizard. Except that was impossible.
“Hold on, Cait,” he said, turning to look at Tolemn again. “Let me talk to him. I think he might be from my Pathfinder game.”
“Well yeah, from your group, right?”
“No, I mean from the game, Cait. Like, *Monkeybone* or *Sonic the Hedgehog* levels of from the game.” Cait gave him a look that put her earlier eyebrow raise to shame.
He straightened. Looked Tolemn up and down. The wanderer drew his wooden pipe from a pouch at his side, lit it with a touch and a bluish glow from his fingertips.
“Tolemn,” Jimmy began hesitantly. This couldn’t be real. But if it was, then they were probably in for some very bad news. “What has Golremn done?”
Tolemn let go of his pipe, and it hung in the air of its own accord as he let loose a stream of smoke from his pursed lips. The smoke circled his head to form a perfect halo, then became a snake biting its own tail and slithered away through the air.
“Finally you’re ready to listen to me, I was starting to think I would never get through to you.” He stroked his beard, looked from Cait’s gaping mouth to Jimmy’s barely concealed anxiousness.
“Golremn has opened the Twelfth Gate. I hope you’re ready, Lord Jimboozle. You have to atone for who, or rather what, you have created.” | The DM took me to the side. "Hey man, do me a solid, will you?"
Leon wasn't able to make it to our next session. Although I usually played the evil overlord, the DM wanted me to play the hero. They would leave my character drinking in a tavern, and I would play the hero.
I agreed to his request. I would later regret it.
I don't know how it happened. One moment I was playing the hero, the next moment I *was* the hero.
I woke up in a field, with some concerning farmers crying and bowing. "Our hero, Good Knight Great Hero the Eighth is here! He will defeat the great evil of the land, the Overlord DickFace PoopButt the Ninety-Second!"
Right.
At least I knew where he would be.
I approached the tavern that the Evil Overlord Dickface PoopButt was staying. It was...something else.
As I got closer, all I could hear was the Alestorm cover of "You are a pirate". Neon lights were flashing from the windows, with drunk people staggering about. I promptly turned around and walked away.
I was playing the good guy, the hero. Inside though, I was still the Evil Overlord Dickface PoopButt. It was who I was, and I wouldn't change for anyone. Not even the DM. | |
[WP] A group of holy knights approaches the throne of the demon king, only to find a mourning prince no older than 18 weeping for the death of his father. The kind king who whole heartedly loved all, and wished for peace. The knights learn that their ‘holy’ church secretly started the war. | "Oi, what're you doin' lad?" Sithe lowered his sword an inch and crooked his head in confusion. A boy, with hair like fire and eyes of stone, slumped near the throne. He gave nothing more than a cry and nothing less than a whimper in response to the question. His eyes filled to the brim and the tears leaked down his chin. He clasped onto the king's hand tightly, silently begging for the man to come back to him.
Suddenly, the second knight raised his sword and leapt towards the boy with a snarl. "He's one of the Demons, he's to be taken to the grave by command of our Lord Darrington!" The last of the three knights stepped in front to stop his companion. His sword clashed with the other and they stepped in union. This was not a spar like they'd had many times before, but rather a serious encounter.
Sithe placed his hand over Kunie's shoulder and grumbled, "You are far too brash, my friend. The boy is not even of age, yet you are willing to slay him. He is torn over the demon king, and I have a bad feeling. I'm sure the Tedol feels the same. Please lower your weapon."
Tedol nodded and pushed the other man's sword away. He then swiftly sheathed his sword, feeling no sense of danger. The three of them stood in front of the throne and Sithe asked his question again. This time the child looked up and spoke softly, "My father was good... we did nothing wrong. Yet, the Holy Church has made our people and king into Holy Ghost. What have you to say? What have you to say in regard to the innocent lives you have slain under a foul name?"
Tedol grunted and looked around more carefully. He walked towards the boy and looked over the king's limp body. He nodded and pointed down to the fallen wine. His boots were now sticky with the poison liquid. The boy spoke again, "He has been dead for a day now. We were never able to prepare a defense. He was slaughtered by an assassin who tried to take my life as well. He told us that he was hired by your lord... and I am inclined to believe him."
Sithe then remembered why they had been sent, "Then do you and your people deny burning the village our lord was staying in only days ago?" The boy's single-color eyes glinted cruelly, "My father and I were there to sign a land treaty with the lord. Your lord threw a candle down in the middle of the night of his own accord and set fire to his own tent. Nothing else was damaged as we put it out quickly."
"You lie boy." Kunie gripped the sword he still held out. His bustling belly jiggled as he took a step forward. His long, dirty blond hair fell into his eyes as his tie was ripped out and he was momentarily blinded by Tedol. Sithe frowned but nodded, "Tedol is right. You are blinded by your loyalty to our lord. Can you not see that we have been lied to? Look around. The boy is blind, he is not a threat."
Kunie growled, "And if the boy is lying, what then? Shall we go back to tell our lord that we have allowed the Demon King's son to live?" Tedol held out his hand and helped the boy to stand up. He did not shrink away from Tedol's touch, but he rather embraced it. He had no fear of dying anymore.
"I was born like this, and I cannot see. My hearing is much better than a normal human because I cannot use my eyes. The people started a rumor of my father and I being demons because this runs in our lineage." The boy spoke once more. "I am just human, as was my father before me."
"How did you know the tent was set on fire then?" Kunie asked this maliciously. "For you cannot see it, and neither could your father."
"Your lord's maids had a good laugh. We over heard them speaking of it, and then I didn't hear them again after." He answered earnestly. "We did not harm your lord."
Tedol held up two fingers, signaling the number of maids that had been reported dead from the fire. The three knights knew then that they had been decieved and so had everyone else. Sithe spoke in a mumble, "Those two must have been killed as a meaning to conceal the true story..."
"If this is true, Lord Darrington will plan to invade these lands under false circumstances." Kunie rubbed his chin. Tedol led the boy back to his father's side and sat with him. He traced his sword on the floor and looked towards the entrance as if waiting.
Sithe sighed, "That settles it then. We must right the wrong we have committed, for it is our sworn duty as Holy Knights." He kneeled in front of the boy and bowed his head. "I pledge to protect you, my young king. I will stay by your side and slay anyone who dares lay a finger on you." A rustle came from his left side as Kunie kneeled in pledge as well.
There was a silence, and then the boy stood. He yelled out for anyone left in the castle, but only one small woman appeared after a few minutes passed. She wilted away from the three knights, but the boy reassured her that they would not harm her. "Gather any servants left alive and begin cleaning up the palace. Prepare for my father's burial. Lastly, find any knights that are still alive and treat them for wounds. We must prepare ourselves for another attack."
"Yes, your highness." She bowed slightly and scurried out. The new king looked in the direction he could only assume the knights were still in, "Your lord must die." | The five knights stood by watching the prince cry over his father's body, still sitting on its throne, for what felt like hours, but was probably just minutes. Having just found the foundations of their beliefs shattered before their very eyes, didn't even notice the bloody sword the prince still unconsciously gripped white knuckled, nor the deep gash just under his rib cage from fending off his father's attackers.
The first of the knights to break the 'spell' was the oldest and most battle hardened of the lot. He cautiously crossed the 25 yards, climbed the dais, and not knowing what else to do, reached out to grip prince's shoulder in a gesture of comfort. The Demon, distracted by his loss, did not notice the knight approaching, reacted instinctively to the touch. Feeling a searing pain spread up his arm the moment he made contact, the Knight stumbled back as a massive wave of pressure pressure felt through the room forced him to the floor. Looking down, he just managed to catch a glimpse of the remnants of his arm as it turned to ash stopping just below the shoulder. "DON'T TOUCH ME!" the prince exploded, his shout mixing with the blood-curdling scream of the elder knight.
Having been knocked to the floor in an instant, the other 4 Knights felt a wave of terror fall over them. They had fought the demons for most of their lives, but nothing could prepare them for the pure amount of power radiating out of this one demon. As one of them looked towards their fallen leader, he noticed 3 things. His arm was missing, he was covered in burns, and an almost tangible red aura gathering around the demon prince.
The cries from the now hand-less Knight started to die down as he started to loose consciousness. Just as he was about to loose consciousness, he tried to order the others to flee, but it came out as a murmur as darkness took hold.
Regaining consciousness, the knight felt a throbbing pain all down his right side that he had never felt before, but strangely not in his arm. He remained confused, staring at the tall stone ceiling for about 20 seconds, the world throbbing in and out of focus with his pain, wanting nothing but to sleep but not being granted the privilege. Then he remembered everything, sitting up as fast as he could (which was quite slow with all his burns) but ignoring his pain, more concerned about his friends he looks around.
Looking around the throne room, it took only a moment for his eyes to adjust. All of a sudden, he realized what he was smelling wasn't his own burnt flesh, but the charred remains of his fellow knights. Unable to bare the sight, he turned his head away, and in doing so accidentally met the gaze of the demon prince, now wearing his father's crown, eyes devoid of any kindness they once portrayed. The Demon, having gotten over his shock the elderly knight was still alive, reached for his sword, and raised his sword over the knight's head, intending to end it in one swing. as the sword prepared to bare down on him, the *king* regretted, for the second time that day, sending those assassins to kill his demon counterpart. he had only just begun his next thought as it all came to a halt.
(sorry for the bad writing its my first short story I've ever done) | |
[WP] A group of holy knights approaches the throne of the demon king, only to find a mourning prince no older than 18 weeping for the death of his father. The kind king who whole heartedly loved all, and wished for peace. The knights learn that their ‘holy’ church secretly started the war. | The knights looked at each other, unsure of what to do. They were ordered to storm the palace and slay the demon king and any demon that stood in their way. But upon entering the throne room, what they found wasn't a demon king, but a young demon prince, kneeling beside the throne weeping. Suddenly, the boy looked up, and upon seeing the group of heavily armoured knights standing before him, fell back in shock and onto the throne, before raising his hands in surrender and terror.
The lead knight than did something that would make him both a traitor and a heretic in the eyes of the church; he sheathed his sword, and raised his hands while slowly walking towards the prince.
"Commander, what are you doing!?" One of the knights yelled, bewildered that any members of the order would dare to attempt such a thing.
"Be silent!" The commander snapped. Turning back to the prince, the commander saw purple light beginning to shine from the Prince's hands. "Easy there, boy. I'm not going to hurt you. I just want to talk." The commander raised his hands up away from his sword, and removed his helmet. Revealing his battle-scarred face to the prince. "My name is Darius, I'm the knight commander to this regiment behind me." He gestured to the group of knights behind them. "Tell me, Where is your father?"
The violet light from the Prince's magic began to fade, when all of a sudden it flared again, launching a bolt of crackling magic towards Darius. He barely avoided it, when he heard it strike mere centimetres from his back. Turning, he saw the shield of one of his knights, charred and melted. The knight holding it quickly threw it to the side, before it fused with his armor.
"Heretic! You would dishonor the order by conversing with this....this thing!?" He pointed his blade at the prince, and the prince readied another spell to defend himself.
"Stop! Let me handle this." Darius raised his hand towards the prince. Placing his hand on the hilt of his sword, Darius turned to the seething knight in front of him "Stand down, brother. He is but a child!"
"Child!? He's the spawn of the very thing we have been fighting to destroy! Look what he managed to do to that shield!" Darius glanced to where the shield was thrown, and where it did lay was now just a pile of charred wood and melted metal. Whatever spell that was, it was more than powerful enough to overwhelm the wards of the church.
"He is cornered and terrified! Would you not do the same in his situation?" Darius moved to block the knight.
"If he is slain, this war will finally come to an end! We will be free from the tyranny of these monsters!" At those words, the prince stood up, anger filling his eyes and violet flames filling his hands.
"My father was a kind, and gentle man! He wanted nothing more than to end this war and make peace with the humans, but your church refused to negotiate with him. And when he rode to your capital to confront the church personally, they imprisoned, tortured, and murdered him!" The prince raised his hand, and a large crystal materialized in front of him. "Observe, and see what your "holy war" is truely about!"
The prince snapped his fingers, and the crystal projected an image of a tall, imposing demon. Clad in ornate silver armor inlaid with obsidian, the demon looked almost as the prince would in about twenty years. Horns grew tall from his forehead, while his grey skin was covered in faintly glowing runes. However, despite his fearsome appearance, the Demon's eyes were kind and gentle. They had a wisdom and knowledge to them that betrayed his true nature.
"My son, as you know, I ride for the human's capital tomorrow, to try and negotiate peace with their ruling council. I know negotiations never worked in the past, but maybe if I approach them personally they will listen to what I say...I'm tired Talus, tired of seeing humans die for a war they believe is holy, tired of seeing demons being slaughtered like animals, and I'm tired of fearing what will happen to our people should I fail. Should you be cornered, please, do not fight. hopefully the Warriors that find you are merciful and not tainted by lies and deceit. I shall take this crystal with me. If I fail, it will find you. Farewell, Talus. I pray to see you again."
With that, the projection of the Demon king shimmered and was absorbed by the crystal. The knights, speechless during the king's speech, now muttered and whispered amongst themselves. Darius noticed more than a few shot glares towards Talus, full of accusations and fear. He stepped towards them, but then the prince gestured towards the crystal.
"There's more." Prince Talus waved his hand, and the crystal projected another shimmering image. This time, it showed a room full of chained demons....and humans. Some of the knights gasped in shock, while Darius's eyes widened slightly. There among them was the Demon king, stripped of his armor and now wearing only rags. His skin was covered in burns and open wounds, and one of his eyes was swollen shut, and His once tall horns were broken and cracked.
Suddenly, a bright light appeared, and through the light stepped none other than the high lord bishop, the highest authority of the church, and a guard of two inquisitors, elite knights of the order. Despite his wounds, the demon king stood to meet the bishop and his guard. Other demons, and, to the knight's surprise, even humans began to surround the king as if to protect him, but he waved his hand and they stood back.
"Restrain him!" The bishop pointed a bony finger at the king, and the two inquisitors grabbed him and forced him to kneel before the bishop. "This day will go down in the annals of history, as the day humanity triumphed against the demon Lord!" The bishop spread his arms and a smile covered his elderly face. The king smirked, and glared up at the bishop.
"Humanity? Please, this war is nothing but your church's sick twisted ploy to gain more power and followers. You spit lies like a snake spits venom, and your order blindly follows! Anyone who defies you? You declare heretics and either butcher them, or throw them in this hell of a prison to await an execution to be made an example of!"
"Silence, demon!" The bishop's hand glowed white with light, and he grasped the side of the king's face. Smoke began to rise from it and the king clenched his teeth in pain. "You will cower before our God's power, and submit to us!" The bishop's other hand glowed, and now he had the king's head firmly placed in a glowing vice grip. The king's skin turned black from the light, and he grunted from the pain. "But dont worry, We won't kill you right away, we'll torture you and your kin. Along with these traitorous humans, first. Then, when you are broken, defeated, and little more than a shade of your former self, only then will I release you to the abyss you crawled out of!"
Suddenly, the king's eyes snapped open. They were glowing with a powerful, violet light. The runes on his body were glowing with the same light. The bishop drew back screaming, his hands alight with violet flame.
"You will not harm me, or anyone else in this room, not anymore!" The two inquisitors were engulfed in flames, leaving nothing, not even ash. The king rose into the air, flames gathering around him. "These flames will cleanse this place, and purge the corrupted. Nothing will remain!" With those words, violet flames erupted from him, consuming everything, the humans, the demons, and the bishop.
As the image began to shimmer, the king glanced at the crystal and spoke for a final time. "Farewell, Talus. Please, don't blame the humans for this. They are being mislead, deceived." The image shimmers, and is swallowed by the crystal, which soon vanishes.
The knights were silent, almost in shock. They looked towards Darius, and were taken aback. Darius's eyes were full of anger. He glanced down onto his breastplate, where a crest of the church was hung, made of pure crystal. He grabbed it and tore it from his armor. Without hesitation, Darius threw the crest onto the floor, shattering it.
"We have been mislead. This war is not holy, we are not Warriors of god. We are nothing but murderers, we have slaughtered countless innocents in the name of a FALSE GOD!!" Darius spun to the prince, and knelt before him. "I offer myself to your service. I will work to right the wrongs myself and my knights have commited."
He wasn't alone however, he heard his knights tear the crystal crests from their armor, and shatter them as well. One by one, they joined him and bowed before prince Talus. Until only the knight that had confronted Darius remained. He glanced at the crest on his armor, before grabbing his sword and sprinting out of the room. Darius went to give chase, but Talus stopped him.
"Let him go. Enough blood has been shed here today, commander." Darius looked at Talus, and saw in his eyes the same kindness he saw in his father's. Darius knelt once again before him.
Talus nodded. "If you are to be my champions, you will need armor that suits the role." Talus's eyes filled with violet light, and tendrils of magic enveloped the knights before him. The magic twisted and changed the armor of the knights. Turning it into the same silver armor that Talus's father had wore.
"What will you have us do?" Talus looked over the regiment of knights before him. He glanced down at Darius, the knight commander, and then turned and sat confidently on the throne.
"Gather any knights that are loyal to you, Commander Darius. We ride to the human's capital when we are ready. The church's lies have gone on for long enough." Darius nodded, and set off for the battlefield. | The five knights stood by watching the prince cry over his father's body, still sitting on its throne, for what felt like hours, but was probably just minutes. Having just found the foundations of their beliefs shattered before their very eyes, didn't even notice the bloody sword the prince still unconsciously gripped white knuckled, nor the deep gash just under his rib cage from fending off his father's attackers.
The first of the knights to break the 'spell' was the oldest and most battle hardened of the lot. He cautiously crossed the 25 yards, climbed the dais, and not knowing what else to do, reached out to grip prince's shoulder in a gesture of comfort. The Demon, distracted by his loss, did not notice the knight approaching, reacted instinctively to the touch. Feeling a searing pain spread up his arm the moment he made contact, the Knight stumbled back as a massive wave of pressure pressure felt through the room forced him to the floor. Looking down, he just managed to catch a glimpse of the remnants of his arm as it turned to ash stopping just below the shoulder. "DON'T TOUCH ME!" the prince exploded, his shout mixing with the blood-curdling scream of the elder knight.
Having been knocked to the floor in an instant, the other 4 Knights felt a wave of terror fall over them. They had fought the demons for most of their lives, but nothing could prepare them for the pure amount of power radiating out of this one demon. As one of them looked towards their fallen leader, he noticed 3 things. His arm was missing, he was covered in burns, and an almost tangible red aura gathering around the demon prince.
The cries from the now hand-less Knight started to die down as he started to loose consciousness. Just as he was about to loose consciousness, he tried to order the others to flee, but it came out as a murmur as darkness took hold.
Regaining consciousness, the knight felt a throbbing pain all down his right side that he had never felt before, but strangely not in his arm. He remained confused, staring at the tall stone ceiling for about 20 seconds, the world throbbing in and out of focus with his pain, wanting nothing but to sleep but not being granted the privilege. Then he remembered everything, sitting up as fast as he could (which was quite slow with all his burns) but ignoring his pain, more concerned about his friends he looks around.
Looking around the throne room, it took only a moment for his eyes to adjust. All of a sudden, he realized what he was smelling wasn't his own burnt flesh, but the charred remains of his fellow knights. Unable to bare the sight, he turned his head away, and in doing so accidentally met the gaze of the demon prince, now wearing his father's crown, eyes devoid of any kindness they once portrayed. The Demon, having gotten over his shock the elderly knight was still alive, reached for his sword, and raised his sword over the knight's head, intending to end it in one swing. as the sword prepared to bare down on him, the *king* regretted, for the second time that day, sending those assassins to kill his demon counterpart. he had only just begun his next thought as it all came to a halt.
(sorry for the bad writing its my first short story I've ever done) | |
[WP] A group of holy knights approaches the throne of the demon king, only to find a mourning prince no older than 18 weeping for the death of his father. The kind king who whole heartedly loved all, and wished for peace. The knights learn that their ‘holy’ church secretly started the war. | A strident sound cutting the otherwise silent corridors of black marble, striking right underneath the skin, like a needle harassing the heart. That was the resentful noise being made by the Prince of All Demons. At the same time, it was just the universal sound of grief.
As the Captain of the group stood still, the man at his left, his left hand, slowly approached, whispering: "What are we to do now?"
The Captain, again, held his nothingness. As the kid started again to explain, in tears, the whole situation from his viewpoint, the soldier from the middle of the group step foward, hand on the waist, fingers on the hilt of his sword. "That will make things easier... Now to kill the spawn of darkness, and win this war!"
He prontly felt a hand on his left shoulder, gently put yet firmly holding him. The soldier behind, trying to fully grasp the situation, asked "But... Is this right? I mean..."
The soldier at the right of their leader, turning the head just enough to take note of the situation developing there, asked in a low, but strong tone: "Captain, your orders?"
Yet the captain stood there silenty once again, eyes on the child.
The last member, the tallest of them all, rested his greatsword on his shoulder as he turned back, starting to march alone. "Forget this. Nothing more makes sense. Nothing ever made."
The captain's second in command turned to the mess. "Are you deserting?"
Many words started to be said, but they all halted at the Captain's exclamation "Enough!"
As everyone of the group looked at him, he moved towards the Demon Prince. Knelling besides him, who offered no response other than merely acknowledging the enemy's presence, the Holy Captain asked. "How old are you?"
As the demoniac cub sobbed, the word slipped: "Nine..."
"Does that hurt? Losing your father?"
The prince finally looked at the Captain, his watering eyes meeting the empty gray of the shining human.
"Of course it does! He is my father!"
After their gazes dueled for a moment, the Captain blinked slowly "I see..."
He them stood up, with an inquisitive grim. "However, do you have any proof of your opposive claims?"
The prince stood up as well, finding bravery to fufil his duty. "We... Have a room with the register of every bit of our history. Some are books... Others are visions. We could..."
"Lieutenant."
"...Yes sir!" his second in command answered".
"Stay here. Anyone tries to desert, execute them immediately."
Every single soldier gasped.
"... Roger that."
"But Captain..." The one with the hand at the blade intervened "Why are you... The holy missio-"
The captain suddenly turned at him, and pointing two fingers as his chest, unleashed shining chains of light, that were too fast to hold him, crushing his torso in a sudden crack noise.
Everyone was taken by fear. The soldiers held their protests, and the little prince felt his dark, scaled skin shiver.
"Show me the way" Said the Captain, now looking at the demon cub.
As both disappeared in the marble of black, the Holy Knights started to crumble.
"Lieutenant! What just happened!?" Said the tallest one.
"I don't know. But we are to follow orders" he said with a visible lack of confidence.
"But... We are the only survivors of the Sixth Heavenly Army! We shouldn't be... Not by the captain" He sobbed as he gazed his wounded companion, froze in place by ethereal chains, struggling to even breathe.
"..."
"... Lieutenant, Sir... I wish I could've stopped this all" Said the one at the bottom right, trying to take care of the apprisioned friend in any way he could find.
"... I know. I, too, wish I..."
"Could you all keep quiet just for a bit?" Said the one at the right of the Lieutenant. "It's too much for my head..."
Then they fell to a dreadful silence, made that much more tense by the vision of the now cadaveric Demon King, rotting as they speak. The black scale serving as mirrors for the shallow, dim lights of the palace. Behind them, a freshly manufactured graveyard for the entire Demon King army, that was made with feelings of pride, bravery, compromisse and heroism. Yet, all they could sense looking at the result was... Something. Not nothing, but anything that couldn't be... Right? The animalesc horns of the final enemy of light suddenly started to look less evil than it looked... Natural. But no one risked a closer inspection.
Half an hour passed. Their bodies still tense.
"Heh... Imagine what we are going to tell our wives and children when we get home" Said the one caring yet for the wounds of his friend.
"It will be a story... If I ever find out a way to tell it" Said the one with the greatsword on shoulder.
The one closest to the Lieutenant gave a sad look to everyone else. Noticing the worry of the group, he quietly spoke. "My wife was a lower-rank soldier. She... She died in the first siege against this castle." The tears started to win over his will to keep quiet, dropping on the floor" We were to try starting a family after all this was over..."
Silence, once again.
"...We're sorry, buddy." Said the tallest one.
"Thanks..."
...
As their minds wandered over the possible outcomes of this journey, wondering what winning will even mean for the Holy Knights or even for humanity itself. Three bells rang. A sinister shiver striked their spines, like if touched by spiders. But far worse.
Before they could formulate a proper thought about it, the Captain returned, his armor fueled in light shining in the corridors. Or at least, that what it first looked like. But something was different. The whole group could tell, but no one could put a finger on it.
As the Captain approached them, the Lieutenant asked "Sir, what happened?"
With deep steps on the black soil, he answered: "I couldn't find the truth. So I found a way to find it."
His underlings exchanged confused looks. The Captain then pointed the fingers at the one he previously had imprisioned, and removed his bindings. Suddenly falling on the floor, the underling searched for breathe and, after finding the minimum quantity required, screamed "WHAT WAS THAT FOR?"
The Captain approached him, picking him um by the neck, and lifting him over, said. "I see you want to know. Well, I am to become the new Demon King, so I can have the power and the means to find out who is the wrong one in this world. Shall you help me with the ritual?"
(To be continued)
(... And to be later revised in order to fix the grammatic errors. I'm in a hurry now lol) | The five knights stood by watching the prince cry over his father's body, still sitting on its throne, for what felt like hours, but was probably just minutes. Having just found the foundations of their beliefs shattered before their very eyes, didn't even notice the bloody sword the prince still unconsciously gripped white knuckled, nor the deep gash just under his rib cage from fending off his father's attackers.
The first of the knights to break the 'spell' was the oldest and most battle hardened of the lot. He cautiously crossed the 25 yards, climbed the dais, and not knowing what else to do, reached out to grip prince's shoulder in a gesture of comfort. The Demon, distracted by his loss, did not notice the knight approaching, reacted instinctively to the touch. Feeling a searing pain spread up his arm the moment he made contact, the Knight stumbled back as a massive wave of pressure pressure felt through the room forced him to the floor. Looking down, he just managed to catch a glimpse of the remnants of his arm as it turned to ash stopping just below the shoulder. "DON'T TOUCH ME!" the prince exploded, his shout mixing with the blood-curdling scream of the elder knight.
Having been knocked to the floor in an instant, the other 4 Knights felt a wave of terror fall over them. They had fought the demons for most of their lives, but nothing could prepare them for the pure amount of power radiating out of this one demon. As one of them looked towards their fallen leader, he noticed 3 things. His arm was missing, he was covered in burns, and an almost tangible red aura gathering around the demon prince.
The cries from the now hand-less Knight started to die down as he started to loose consciousness. Just as he was about to loose consciousness, he tried to order the others to flee, but it came out as a murmur as darkness took hold.
Regaining consciousness, the knight felt a throbbing pain all down his right side that he had never felt before, but strangely not in his arm. He remained confused, staring at the tall stone ceiling for about 20 seconds, the world throbbing in and out of focus with his pain, wanting nothing but to sleep but not being granted the privilege. Then he remembered everything, sitting up as fast as he could (which was quite slow with all his burns) but ignoring his pain, more concerned about his friends he looks around.
Looking around the throne room, it took only a moment for his eyes to adjust. All of a sudden, he realized what he was smelling wasn't his own burnt flesh, but the charred remains of his fellow knights. Unable to bare the sight, he turned his head away, and in doing so accidentally met the gaze of the demon prince, now wearing his father's crown, eyes devoid of any kindness they once portrayed. The Demon, having gotten over his shock the elderly knight was still alive, reached for his sword, and raised his sword over the knight's head, intending to end it in one swing. as the sword prepared to bare down on him, the *king* regretted, for the second time that day, sending those assassins to kill his demon counterpart. he had only just begun his next thought as it all came to a halt.
(sorry for the bad writing its my first short story I've ever done) | |
[WP] A group of holy knights approaches the throne of the demon king, only to find a mourning prince no older than 18 weeping for the death of his father. The kind king who whole heartedly loved all, and wished for peace. The knights learn that their ‘holy’ church secretly started the war. | "I had wondered about the truth of the war," our monk Matteo murmured, as he headed to the child.
We had been out here in this foreign country for weeks, searching for and destroying "demonic strongholds", which had been oddly filled with gold and jewels and holy relics.
Matteo kneeled before the child, praying. "Father, please bless this young king with serenity, and please forgive us our greatest sins."
"I-I," the king wiped his face, "I know you have been fooled, and I-I... I can find it in myself to forgive your folly." He stood, his voice finding more and more strength as he spoke.
"But please, you cannot go back to your homes. I will send all the messengers I have to your families."
"To what end, King ?" I asked, touching my sword. The king flinched.
"Because I ask that you become my sword, to please find it in yourselves to give kindness to us."
(Might write more later) | The five knights stood by watching the prince cry over his father's body, still sitting on its throne, for what felt like hours, but was probably just minutes. Having just found the foundations of their beliefs shattered before their very eyes, didn't even notice the bloody sword the prince still unconsciously gripped white knuckled, nor the deep gash just under his rib cage from fending off his father's attackers.
The first of the knights to break the 'spell' was the oldest and most battle hardened of the lot. He cautiously crossed the 25 yards, climbed the dais, and not knowing what else to do, reached out to grip prince's shoulder in a gesture of comfort. The Demon, distracted by his loss, did not notice the knight approaching, reacted instinctively to the touch. Feeling a searing pain spread up his arm the moment he made contact, the Knight stumbled back as a massive wave of pressure pressure felt through the room forced him to the floor. Looking down, he just managed to catch a glimpse of the remnants of his arm as it turned to ash stopping just below the shoulder. "DON'T TOUCH ME!" the prince exploded, his shout mixing with the blood-curdling scream of the elder knight.
Having been knocked to the floor in an instant, the other 4 Knights felt a wave of terror fall over them. They had fought the demons for most of their lives, but nothing could prepare them for the pure amount of power radiating out of this one demon. As one of them looked towards their fallen leader, he noticed 3 things. His arm was missing, he was covered in burns, and an almost tangible red aura gathering around the demon prince.
The cries from the now hand-less Knight started to die down as he started to loose consciousness. Just as he was about to loose consciousness, he tried to order the others to flee, but it came out as a murmur as darkness took hold.
Regaining consciousness, the knight felt a throbbing pain all down his right side that he had never felt before, but strangely not in his arm. He remained confused, staring at the tall stone ceiling for about 20 seconds, the world throbbing in and out of focus with his pain, wanting nothing but to sleep but not being granted the privilege. Then he remembered everything, sitting up as fast as he could (which was quite slow with all his burns) but ignoring his pain, more concerned about his friends he looks around.
Looking around the throne room, it took only a moment for his eyes to adjust. All of a sudden, he realized what he was smelling wasn't his own burnt flesh, but the charred remains of his fellow knights. Unable to bare the sight, he turned his head away, and in doing so accidentally met the gaze of the demon prince, now wearing his father's crown, eyes devoid of any kindness they once portrayed. The Demon, having gotten over his shock the elderly knight was still alive, reached for his sword, and raised his sword over the knight's head, intending to end it in one swing. as the sword prepared to bare down on him, the *king* regretted, for the second time that day, sending those assassins to kill his demon counterpart. he had only just begun his next thought as it all came to a halt.
(sorry for the bad writing its my first short story I've ever done) | |
[WP] A group of holy knights approaches the throne of the demon king, only to find a mourning prince no older than 18 weeping for the death of his father. The kind king who whole heartedly loved all, and wished for peace. The knights learn that their ‘holy’ church secretly started the war. |
With Laser swords drawn the five knights of the Holy church entered the throne room of the palace. They had already dispatched the few remaining guards of the heretic king. His droid armies where no more, all gone in this the final battle of the holy crusade to remove the demon king.
As the entered the throne room, passing the many great statues and works of art, all broken and damaged by the long siege and perilous battle, the spotted the great throne. On it sat a young man with a circlet of gold upon his brown and a black cloak upon his shoulders. At his feet lay the body of an old man, his visage worn by the years, so that not even death could make them look at peace.
In the name of God and the Mother Church, stand too and tell us where the demon king is boy.” Cried Sir John, commander of the Knights. Behind him his four companions, all who remained of their holy chapter in this battle, spread out to surround the throne. Laser swords humming with power, there eyes alert for anymore droid soldiers.
With calmness in his movements and sadness in his eyes, the young man leaned back upon the throne and viewed Sir John with eyes of cold grey. “you need not look far, for your so-called demon king, for my father lays here, dead upon my feat. Slain by his own hands, he hoped his death would be enough to stop your assault, but no, you monsters took no quarters and gave no mercy, well here he is, you monster, your demon king. Look upon him, look upon the face of man who only ever hoped for peace, who so loved his people and life that he created an army of robotic warriors to fit in their stead. Yet it seems this was not enough, as I see now that the value of no one life is worth the sacrifice of freedom for generations yet unborn. For only warrior meeting warrior can defend the sacred shores of our liberty.” His peace said, the young prince fell silent and viewed the faces of the hated knights who fought for there hated holy war.
Sir john laughed at the words spoken, “Come now boy, do not be a fool, we know the demon king is an abomination of metal like his accursed armies. No man of flesh, the archbishop has told us so.” As he spoke the knight moved the still form of the old man. What final trickery is this of the demon king, to coward to face us soldiers of god. He kills a man and thinks to have him take his place.” Raising his sword Sir john plunged it into the corpse and withered and then hacked off the head. Raising his sword, he pointed it at the young man.
“Take us to the true demon king boy, and no more games, lest you meet god early.”
Undaunted by the threats of ignorant men, the prince rose from his late fathers throne and knelt before the body of his father, mutilated and disgraced even in death afforded no peace. “place your sword at my neck ignoble knight for I have no more time or patience with you, who is to stupid to see the truth of the lie he so blindly follows. My father the king is dead, and he was no demon, an neither am I; we are simply men who loved the liberty of our land and would never bow before the slavery of your church. So strike your blow and finish this, but know that while you have destroyed the armies of my father, our people have seen the horror of what you bring and shall rise up again and again until the day comes when your church lies broken, your lies made bare, and the tyranny you so blindly follow has been blasted from the face of this earth, and freedom once again reigns. Fools, our allies have seen through your lie and even now the alliance has been brokered by my younger brother. The hour of your reckoning comes near, so strike me down!” and with this the prince prostrated him self across the body of his father and made clear his decision. Wasting no time Sir john chopped off the head of young heretic.
“Search the place top to bottom, find me the demon king, and kill all who protest and protect him, God and Mother Church wills it” cried Sir John, “For God and Church” chorused the other knights, and they spread through the palace killing and destroying through out the day, asking each person the found where the demon king hid, and each answered dead upon the steps of the throne.
Finally, as the sun set in blood red hues upon the smoking ruin of the city, Sir john and his knights stood once again before the bodies of the king and prince, forced to face the truth, there was no demon king. No monster of metal, for the only monsters present where themselves, surrounded by the blood of innocents. | The five knights stood by watching the prince cry over his father's body, still sitting on its throne, for what felt like hours, but was probably just minutes. Having just found the foundations of their beliefs shattered before their very eyes, didn't even notice the bloody sword the prince still unconsciously gripped white knuckled, nor the deep gash just under his rib cage from fending off his father's attackers.
The first of the knights to break the 'spell' was the oldest and most battle hardened of the lot. He cautiously crossed the 25 yards, climbed the dais, and not knowing what else to do, reached out to grip prince's shoulder in a gesture of comfort. The Demon, distracted by his loss, did not notice the knight approaching, reacted instinctively to the touch. Feeling a searing pain spread up his arm the moment he made contact, the Knight stumbled back as a massive wave of pressure pressure felt through the room forced him to the floor. Looking down, he just managed to catch a glimpse of the remnants of his arm as it turned to ash stopping just below the shoulder. "DON'T TOUCH ME!" the prince exploded, his shout mixing with the blood-curdling scream of the elder knight.
Having been knocked to the floor in an instant, the other 4 Knights felt a wave of terror fall over them. They had fought the demons for most of their lives, but nothing could prepare them for the pure amount of power radiating out of this one demon. As one of them looked towards their fallen leader, he noticed 3 things. His arm was missing, he was covered in burns, and an almost tangible red aura gathering around the demon prince.
The cries from the now hand-less Knight started to die down as he started to loose consciousness. Just as he was about to loose consciousness, he tried to order the others to flee, but it came out as a murmur as darkness took hold.
Regaining consciousness, the knight felt a throbbing pain all down his right side that he had never felt before, but strangely not in his arm. He remained confused, staring at the tall stone ceiling for about 20 seconds, the world throbbing in and out of focus with his pain, wanting nothing but to sleep but not being granted the privilege. Then he remembered everything, sitting up as fast as he could (which was quite slow with all his burns) but ignoring his pain, more concerned about his friends he looks around.
Looking around the throne room, it took only a moment for his eyes to adjust. All of a sudden, he realized what he was smelling wasn't his own burnt flesh, but the charred remains of his fellow knights. Unable to bare the sight, he turned his head away, and in doing so accidentally met the gaze of the demon prince, now wearing his father's crown, eyes devoid of any kindness they once portrayed. The Demon, having gotten over his shock the elderly knight was still alive, reached for his sword, and raised his sword over the knight's head, intending to end it in one swing. as the sword prepared to bare down on him, the *king* regretted, for the second time that day, sending those assassins to kill his demon counterpart. he had only just begun his next thought as it all came to a halt.
(sorry for the bad writing its my first short story I've ever done) | |
[WP] A group of holy knights approaches the throne of the demon king, only to find a mourning prince no older than 18 weeping for the death of his father. The kind king who whole heartedly loved all, and wished for peace. The knights learn that their ‘holy’ church secretly started the war. | Three armored figures spread out as they crept through the dark and corrupted castle with extreme caution. Many a brave knight had been slain by evil traps and demonic trickery during their long campaign, and now they descended into the proverbial the belly of the beast. It was not the time to be complacent.
Sir Findlay, the most experienced of the trio, led the way. A veteran of all three campaigns against the forces of the demonic realm, his wisdom was invaluable to his two young companions.
"Sir Magnus? Guard our right flank. Sir Alistair, keep careful watch on our left. These crossing corridors are the perfect location for an ambush."
The pair did as they were told. Magnus had been a Knight of the Holy Order for a few years now, and had at least some idea of what to expect. But Alistair had just completed his training and was only here presently because of the loss of many more experienced knights suffered on the long journey to arrive at this moment. He was perhaps the finest and most skilled young swordsman in all the realm, but he was also utterly without experience in actual combat. His body shook like a leaf as his nervous eyes glanced left as instructed.
Thankfully, no ambush came and the trio arrived at a massive set of stone doors. Their objective, to slay the Demon King who sat on a twisted throne just beyond this door, was finally within reach. Findlay nodded to the other two and all three pushed on the impossibly heavy gates, slowly forcing them open.
Inside was indeed a dark and horrible throne room. The walls were a sickly, patchwork mix of black and red colors. Skulls, likely of fallen enemies, were mounted to spikes that lined the path to the throne itself. The look of this inner sanctum of pure evil was exactly what they expected. The sound they were greeted by, however, was not.
*Crying.* There was no mistaking it, loud sobs emanated from the darkened far side of the room. The trio moved forward carefully, toward the bizarre sound. Slowly, the throne itself came into view, but seated atop it was not the massive and terrifying Demon King they expected to find, but rather, merely a small boy. A demon, to be sure, but a boy nonetheless. He quieted his sobs as the knights approached.
"We are here on a lawful mission, sanctioned by the Holy Order, and thus God himself, to slay the Demon King," Findlay declared loudly. "Where does he hide, boy? Tell us now and we may spare your life."
"You are too late," the boy sniffed. "Another set of knights, sharing the symbol of your *vile* order, assassinated our dear king just days ago."
"Vile?!" Sir Magnus shouted, infuriated. "How dare you speak such a word to us, monster! Watch your tongue or I shall-"
The boy leapt off the throne and stood directly in front of the much larger knights, shouting in their faces, unafraid. "You shall what?!" he screamed in a rage, his tears returning. "You shall slay me just as you did my loving father? My father who desired only peace, who begged to negotiate an end to your onslaught and invasions into our lands? Why? Because you fear the twisted, sharpened horns on my head? Because my skin is aflame?"
"Father?" Findlay mumbled with concern to his comrades. "In that case, I'm afraid our mission here is not yet complete..."
Alistair was horrified as he realized the implication of Findlay's words. The young knight found his resolve and took the unheard of step of questioning his senior. "Sir, the Demon King is *dead.* Can we not say our duty is done?*"*
"The former king is dead, yes. But naturally his son now ascends the throne to take his place. Our orders are to kill the Demon King, and that new king is now standing before us. Our mission and duty remains unchanged, distasteful as it may seem." Magnus nodded in agreement.
"But... he is a *child!"* Alistair protested. "As Knights of the Holy Order, have we no duty to assess the reality we find, rather than blindly executing orders? We swore *oaths* to protect the innocent regardless of where we find them! A child is not responsible for his father's sins, we believe this and-"
"Do not speak to me of oaths, young man!" Findlay shouted before calming his voice. "Sir Alistair, being your first assignment, it falls to you to finish this task. Speak no more of your objections. Follow your orders, and do your duty."
Alistair peered down the at the young boy standing before him, horrified at the 'task' that had fallen to him. He turned and stared at his commanding officer for a moment before flicking his eyes to his younger comrade, Sir Magnus, desperately hoping to find support for sparing the child's life. Finding none, he raised his sword, closed his eyes briefly, and swung it with a violence and precision few swordsmen could hope to match. He did what had to be done.
His two fellow knights fell to the floor, their heads severed by a single sweeping, whirlwind slash that had passed through both their necks effortlessly.
"What have you done!" the boy cried, too terrified by the sudden act of extreme violence to be grateful for his potential rescue.
"Perhaps the right and moral thing. Perhaps the wrong. That shall have to be sorted at a later date," Alistair replied with a grimace. "Come now, lad. Countless more knights will arrive on your doorstep when Sir Findlay does not return. You cannot be here when they arrive. Nor can I."
As he led the boy out of the throne room, he stepped over the fresh corpses of his fallen former comrades. His duty, as he saw it, dark and dishonorable as it may have been, was finished.
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Thanks for reading. Feel free to check out r/Ryter if you'd like to explore many more of my stories. | The five knights stood by watching the prince cry over his father's body, still sitting on its throne, for what felt like hours, but was probably just minutes. Having just found the foundations of their beliefs shattered before their very eyes, didn't even notice the bloody sword the prince still unconsciously gripped white knuckled, nor the deep gash just under his rib cage from fending off his father's attackers.
The first of the knights to break the 'spell' was the oldest and most battle hardened of the lot. He cautiously crossed the 25 yards, climbed the dais, and not knowing what else to do, reached out to grip prince's shoulder in a gesture of comfort. The Demon, distracted by his loss, did not notice the knight approaching, reacted instinctively to the touch. Feeling a searing pain spread up his arm the moment he made contact, the Knight stumbled back as a massive wave of pressure pressure felt through the room forced him to the floor. Looking down, he just managed to catch a glimpse of the remnants of his arm as it turned to ash stopping just below the shoulder. "DON'T TOUCH ME!" the prince exploded, his shout mixing with the blood-curdling scream of the elder knight.
Having been knocked to the floor in an instant, the other 4 Knights felt a wave of terror fall over them. They had fought the demons for most of their lives, but nothing could prepare them for the pure amount of power radiating out of this one demon. As one of them looked towards their fallen leader, he noticed 3 things. His arm was missing, he was covered in burns, and an almost tangible red aura gathering around the demon prince.
The cries from the now hand-less Knight started to die down as he started to loose consciousness. Just as he was about to loose consciousness, he tried to order the others to flee, but it came out as a murmur as darkness took hold.
Regaining consciousness, the knight felt a throbbing pain all down his right side that he had never felt before, but strangely not in his arm. He remained confused, staring at the tall stone ceiling for about 20 seconds, the world throbbing in and out of focus with his pain, wanting nothing but to sleep but not being granted the privilege. Then he remembered everything, sitting up as fast as he could (which was quite slow with all his burns) but ignoring his pain, more concerned about his friends he looks around.
Looking around the throne room, it took only a moment for his eyes to adjust. All of a sudden, he realized what he was smelling wasn't his own burnt flesh, but the charred remains of his fellow knights. Unable to bare the sight, he turned his head away, and in doing so accidentally met the gaze of the demon prince, now wearing his father's crown, eyes devoid of any kindness they once portrayed. The Demon, having gotten over his shock the elderly knight was still alive, reached for his sword, and raised his sword over the knight's head, intending to end it in one swing. as the sword prepared to bare down on him, the *king* regretted, for the second time that day, sending those assassins to kill his demon counterpart. he had only just begun his next thought as it all came to a halt.
(sorry for the bad writing its my first short story I've ever done) | |
[WP] A group of holy knights approaches the throne of the demon king, only to find a mourning prince no older than 18 weeping for the death of his father. The kind king who whole heartedly loved all, and wished for peace. The knights learn that their ‘holy’ church secretly started the war. | A strident sound cutting the otherwise silent corridors of black marble, striking right underneath the skin, like a needle harassing the heart. That was the resentful noise being made by the Prince of All Demons. At the same time, it was just the universal sound of grief.
As the Captain of the group stood still, the man at his left, his left hand, slowly approached, whispering: "What are we to do now?"
The Captain, again, held his nothingness. As the kid started again to explain, in tears, the whole situation from his viewpoint, the soldier from the middle of the group step foward, hand on the waist, fingers on the hilt of his sword. "That will make things easier... Now to kill the spawn of darkness, and win this war!"
He prontly felt a hand on his left shoulder, gently put yet firmly holding him. The soldier behind, trying to fully grasp the situation, asked "But... Is this right? I mean..."
The soldier at the right of their leader, turning the head just enough to take note of the situation developing there, asked in a low, but strong tone: "Captain, your orders?"
Yet the captain stood there silenty once again, eyes on the child.
The last member, the tallest of them all, rested his greatsword on his shoulder as he turned back, starting to march alone. "Forget this. Nothing more makes sense. Nothing ever made."
The captain's second in command turned to the mess. "Are you deserting?"
Many words started to be said, but they all halted at the Captain's exclamation "Enough!"
As everyone of the group looked at him, he moved towards the Demon Prince. Knelling besides him, who offered no response other than merely acknowledging the enemy's presence, the Holy Captain asked. "How old are you?"
As the demoniac cub sobbed, the word slipped: "Nine..."
"Does that hurt? Losing your father?"
The prince finally looked at the Captain, his watering eyes meeting the empty gray of the shining human.
"Of course it does! He is my father!"
After their gazes dueled for a moment, the Captain blinked slowly "I see..."
He them stood up, with an inquisitive grim. "However, do you have any proof of your opposive claims?"
The prince stood up as well, finding bravery to fufil his duty. "We... Have a room with the register of every bit of our history. Some are books... Others are visions. We could..."
"Lieutenant."
"...Yes sir!" his second in command answered".
"Stay here. Anyone tries to desert, execute them immediately."
Every single soldier gasped.
"... Roger that."
"But Captain..." The one with the hand at the blade intervened "Why are you... The holy missio-"
The captain suddenly turned at him, and pointing two fingers as his chest, unleashed shining chains of light, that were too fast to hold him, crushing his torso in a sudden crack noise.
Everyone was taken by fear. The soldiers held their protests, and the little prince felt his dark, scaled skin shiver.
"Show me the way" Said the Captain, now looking at the demon cub.
As both disappeared in the marble of black, the Holy Knights started to crumble.
"Lieutenant! What just happened!?" Said the tallest one.
"I don't know. But we are to follow orders" he said with a visible lack of confidence.
"But... We are the only survivors of the Sixth Heavenly Army! We shouldn't be... Not by the captain" He sobbed as he gazed his wounded companion, froze in place by ethereal chains, struggling to even breathe.
"..."
"... Lieutenant, Sir... I wish I could've stopped this all" Said the one at the bottom right, trying to take care of the apprisioned friend in any way he could find.
"... I know. I, too, wish I..."
"Could you all keep quiet just for a bit?" Said the one at the right of the Lieutenant. "It's too much for my head..."
Then they fell to a dreadful silence, made that much more tense by the vision of the now cadaveric Demon King, rotting as they speak. The black scale serving as mirrors for the shallow, dim lights of the palace. Behind them, a freshly manufactured graveyard for the entire Demon King army, that was made with feelings of pride, bravery, compromisse and heroism. Yet, all they could sense looking at the result was... Something. Not nothing, but anything that couldn't be... Right? The animalesc horns of the final enemy of light suddenly started to look less evil than it looked... Natural. But no one risked a closer inspection.
Half an hour passed. Their bodies still tense.
"Heh... Imagine what we are going to tell our wives and children when we get home" Said the one caring yet for the wounds of his friend.
"It will be a story... If I ever find out a way to tell it" Said the one with the greatsword on shoulder.
The one closest to the Lieutenant gave a sad look to everyone else. Noticing the worry of the group, he quietly spoke. "My wife was a lower-rank soldier. She... She died in the first siege against this castle." The tears started to win over his will to keep quiet, dropping on the floor" We were to try starting a family after all this was over..."
Silence, once again.
"...We're sorry, buddy." Said the tallest one.
"Thanks..."
...
As their minds wandered over the possible outcomes of this journey, wondering what winning will even mean for the Holy Knights or even for humanity itself. Three bells rang. A sinister shiver striked their spines, like if touched by spiders. But far worse.
Before they could formulate a proper thought about it, the Captain returned, his armor fueled in light shining in the corridors. Or at least, that what it first looked like. But something was different. The whole group could tell, but no one could put a finger on it.
As the Captain approached them, the Lieutenant asked "Sir, what happened?"
With deep steps on the black soil, he answered: "I couldn't find the truth. So I found a way to find it."
His underlings exchanged confused looks. The Captain then pointed the fingers at the one he previously had imprisioned, and removed his bindings. Suddenly falling on the floor, the underling searched for breathe and, after finding the minimum quantity required, screamed "WHAT WAS THAT FOR?"
The Captain approached him, picking him um by the neck, and lifting him over, said. "I see you want to know. Well, I am to become the new Demon King, so I can have the power and the means to find out who is the wrong one in this world. Shall you help me with the ritual?"
(To be continued)
(... And to be later revised in order to fix the grammatic errors. I'm in a hurry now lol) | "Oi, what're you doin' lad?" Sithe lowered his sword an inch and crooked his head in confusion. A boy, with hair like fire and eyes of stone, slumped near the throne. He gave nothing more than a cry and nothing less than a whimper in response to the question. His eyes filled to the brim and the tears leaked down his chin. He clasped onto the king's hand tightly, silently begging for the man to come back to him.
Suddenly, the second knight raised his sword and leapt towards the boy with a snarl. "He's one of the Demons, he's to be taken to the grave by command of our Lord Darrington!" The last of the three knights stepped in front to stop his companion. His sword clashed with the other and they stepped in union. This was not a spar like they'd had many times before, but rather a serious encounter.
Sithe placed his hand over Kunie's shoulder and grumbled, "You are far too brash, my friend. The boy is not even of age, yet you are willing to slay him. He is torn over the demon king, and I have a bad feeling. I'm sure the Tedol feels the same. Please lower your weapon."
Tedol nodded and pushed the other man's sword away. He then swiftly sheathed his sword, feeling no sense of danger. The three of them stood in front of the throne and Sithe asked his question again. This time the child looked up and spoke softly, "My father was good... we did nothing wrong. Yet, the Holy Church has made our people and king into Holy Ghost. What have you to say? What have you to say in regard to the innocent lives you have slain under a foul name?"
Tedol grunted and looked around more carefully. He walked towards the boy and looked over the king's limp body. He nodded and pointed down to the fallen wine. His boots were now sticky with the poison liquid. The boy spoke again, "He has been dead for a day now. We were never able to prepare a defense. He was slaughtered by an assassin who tried to take my life as well. He told us that he was hired by your lord... and I am inclined to believe him."
Sithe then remembered why they had been sent, "Then do you and your people deny burning the village our lord was staying in only days ago?" The boy's single-color eyes glinted cruelly, "My father and I were there to sign a land treaty with the lord. Your lord threw a candle down in the middle of the night of his own accord and set fire to his own tent. Nothing else was damaged as we put it out quickly."
"You lie boy." Kunie gripped the sword he still held out. His bustling belly jiggled as he took a step forward. His long, dirty blond hair fell into his eyes as his tie was ripped out and he was momentarily blinded by Tedol. Sithe frowned but nodded, "Tedol is right. You are blinded by your loyalty to our lord. Can you not see that we have been lied to? Look around. The boy is blind, he is not a threat."
Kunie growled, "And if the boy is lying, what then? Shall we go back to tell our lord that we have allowed the Demon King's son to live?" Tedol held out his hand and helped the boy to stand up. He did not shrink away from Tedol's touch, but he rather embraced it. He had no fear of dying anymore.
"I was born like this, and I cannot see. My hearing is much better than a normal human because I cannot use my eyes. The people started a rumor of my father and I being demons because this runs in our lineage." The boy spoke once more. "I am just human, as was my father before me."
"How did you know the tent was set on fire then?" Kunie asked this maliciously. "For you cannot see it, and neither could your father."
"Your lord's maids had a good laugh. We over heard them speaking of it, and then I didn't hear them again after." He answered earnestly. "We did not harm your lord."
Tedol held up two fingers, signaling the number of maids that had been reported dead from the fire. The three knights knew then that they had been decieved and so had everyone else. Sithe spoke in a mumble, "Those two must have been killed as a meaning to conceal the true story..."
"If this is true, Lord Darrington will plan to invade these lands under false circumstances." Kunie rubbed his chin. Tedol led the boy back to his father's side and sat with him. He traced his sword on the floor and looked towards the entrance as if waiting.
Sithe sighed, "That settles it then. We must right the wrong we have committed, for it is our sworn duty as Holy Knights." He kneeled in front of the boy and bowed his head. "I pledge to protect you, my young king. I will stay by your side and slay anyone who dares lay a finger on you." A rustle came from his left side as Kunie kneeled in pledge as well.
There was a silence, and then the boy stood. He yelled out for anyone left in the castle, but only one small woman appeared after a few minutes passed. She wilted away from the three knights, but the boy reassured her that they would not harm her. "Gather any servants left alive and begin cleaning up the palace. Prepare for my father's burial. Lastly, find any knights that are still alive and treat them for wounds. We must prepare ourselves for another attack."
"Yes, your highness." She bowed slightly and scurried out. The new king looked in the direction he could only assume the knights were still in, "Your lord must die." | |
[WP] A group of holy knights approaches the throne of the demon king, only to find a mourning prince no older than 18 weeping for the death of his father. The kind king who whole heartedly loved all, and wished for peace. The knights learn that their ‘holy’ church secretly started the war. | Three armored figures spread out as they crept through the dark and corrupted castle with extreme caution. Many a brave knight had been slain by evil traps and demonic trickery during their long campaign, and now they descended into the proverbial the belly of the beast. It was not the time to be complacent.
Sir Findlay, the most experienced of the trio, led the way. A veteran of all three campaigns against the forces of the demonic realm, his wisdom was invaluable to his two young companions.
"Sir Magnus? Guard our right flank. Sir Alistair, keep careful watch on our left. These crossing corridors are the perfect location for an ambush."
The pair did as they were told. Magnus had been a Knight of the Holy Order for a few years now, and had at least some idea of what to expect. But Alistair had just completed his training and was only here presently because of the loss of many more experienced knights suffered on the long journey to arrive at this moment. He was perhaps the finest and most skilled young swordsman in all the realm, but he was also utterly without experience in actual combat. His body shook like a leaf as his nervous eyes glanced left as instructed.
Thankfully, no ambush came and the trio arrived at a massive set of stone doors. Their objective, to slay the Demon King who sat on a twisted throne just beyond this door, was finally within reach. Findlay nodded to the other two and all three pushed on the impossibly heavy gates, slowly forcing them open.
Inside was indeed a dark and horrible throne room. The walls were a sickly, patchwork mix of black and red colors. Skulls, likely of fallen enemies, were mounted to spikes that lined the path to the throne itself. The look of this inner sanctum of pure evil was exactly what they expected. The sound they were greeted by, however, was not.
*Crying.* There was no mistaking it, loud sobs emanated from the darkened far side of the room. The trio moved forward carefully, toward the bizarre sound. Slowly, the throne itself came into view, but seated atop it was not the massive and terrifying Demon King they expected to find, but rather, merely a small boy. A demon, to be sure, but a boy nonetheless. He quieted his sobs as the knights approached.
"We are here on a lawful mission, sanctioned by the Holy Order, and thus God himself, to slay the Demon King," Findlay declared loudly. "Where does he hide, boy? Tell us now and we may spare your life."
"You are too late," the boy sniffed. "Another set of knights, sharing the symbol of your *vile* order, assassinated our dear king just days ago."
"Vile?!" Sir Magnus shouted, infuriated. "How dare you speak such a word to us, monster! Watch your tongue or I shall-"
The boy leapt off the throne and stood directly in front of the much larger knights, shouting in their faces, unafraid. "You shall what?!" he screamed in a rage, his tears returning. "You shall slay me just as you did my loving father? My father who desired only peace, who begged to negotiate an end to your onslaught and invasions into our lands? Why? Because you fear the twisted, sharpened horns on my head? Because my skin is aflame?"
"Father?" Findlay mumbled with concern to his comrades. "In that case, I'm afraid our mission here is not yet complete..."
Alistair was horrified as he realized the implication of Findlay's words. The young knight found his resolve and took the unheard of step of questioning his senior. "Sir, the Demon King is *dead.* Can we not say our duty is done?*"*
"The former king is dead, yes. But naturally his son now ascends the throne to take his place. Our orders are to kill the Demon King, and that new king is now standing before us. Our mission and duty remains unchanged, distasteful as it may seem." Magnus nodded in agreement.
"But... he is a *child!"* Alistair protested. "As Knights of the Holy Order, have we no duty to assess the reality we find, rather than blindly executing orders? We swore *oaths* to protect the innocent regardless of where we find them! A child is not responsible for his father's sins, we believe this and-"
"Do not speak to me of oaths, young man!" Findlay shouted before calming his voice. "Sir Alistair, being your first assignment, it falls to you to finish this task. Speak no more of your objections. Follow your orders, and do your duty."
Alistair peered down the at the young boy standing before him, horrified at the 'task' that had fallen to him. He turned and stared at his commanding officer for a moment before flicking his eyes to his younger comrade, Sir Magnus, desperately hoping to find support for sparing the child's life. Finding none, he raised his sword, closed his eyes briefly, and swung it with a violence and precision few swordsmen could hope to match. He did what had to be done.
His two fellow knights fell to the floor, their heads severed by a single sweeping, whirlwind slash that had passed through both their necks effortlessly.
"What have you done!" the boy cried, too terrified by the sudden act of extreme violence to be grateful for his potential rescue.
"Perhaps the right and moral thing. Perhaps the wrong. That shall have to be sorted at a later date," Alistair replied with a grimace. "Come now, lad. Countless more knights will arrive on your doorstep when Sir Findlay does not return. You cannot be here when they arrive. Nor can I."
As he led the boy out of the throne room, he stepped over the fresh corpses of his fallen former comrades. His duty, as he saw it, dark and dishonorable as it may have been, was finished.
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Thanks for reading. Feel free to check out r/Ryter if you'd like to explore many more of my stories. | "Oi, what're you doin' lad?" Sithe lowered his sword an inch and crooked his head in confusion. A boy, with hair like fire and eyes of stone, slumped near the throne. He gave nothing more than a cry and nothing less than a whimper in response to the question. His eyes filled to the brim and the tears leaked down his chin. He clasped onto the king's hand tightly, silently begging for the man to come back to him.
Suddenly, the second knight raised his sword and leapt towards the boy with a snarl. "He's one of the Demons, he's to be taken to the grave by command of our Lord Darrington!" The last of the three knights stepped in front to stop his companion. His sword clashed with the other and they stepped in union. This was not a spar like they'd had many times before, but rather a serious encounter.
Sithe placed his hand over Kunie's shoulder and grumbled, "You are far too brash, my friend. The boy is not even of age, yet you are willing to slay him. He is torn over the demon king, and I have a bad feeling. I'm sure the Tedol feels the same. Please lower your weapon."
Tedol nodded and pushed the other man's sword away. He then swiftly sheathed his sword, feeling no sense of danger. The three of them stood in front of the throne and Sithe asked his question again. This time the child looked up and spoke softly, "My father was good... we did nothing wrong. Yet, the Holy Church has made our people and king into Holy Ghost. What have you to say? What have you to say in regard to the innocent lives you have slain under a foul name?"
Tedol grunted and looked around more carefully. He walked towards the boy and looked over the king's limp body. He nodded and pointed down to the fallen wine. His boots were now sticky with the poison liquid. The boy spoke again, "He has been dead for a day now. We were never able to prepare a defense. He was slaughtered by an assassin who tried to take my life as well. He told us that he was hired by your lord... and I am inclined to believe him."
Sithe then remembered why they had been sent, "Then do you and your people deny burning the village our lord was staying in only days ago?" The boy's single-color eyes glinted cruelly, "My father and I were there to sign a land treaty with the lord. Your lord threw a candle down in the middle of the night of his own accord and set fire to his own tent. Nothing else was damaged as we put it out quickly."
"You lie boy." Kunie gripped the sword he still held out. His bustling belly jiggled as he took a step forward. His long, dirty blond hair fell into his eyes as his tie was ripped out and he was momentarily blinded by Tedol. Sithe frowned but nodded, "Tedol is right. You are blinded by your loyalty to our lord. Can you not see that we have been lied to? Look around. The boy is blind, he is not a threat."
Kunie growled, "And if the boy is lying, what then? Shall we go back to tell our lord that we have allowed the Demon King's son to live?" Tedol held out his hand and helped the boy to stand up. He did not shrink away from Tedol's touch, but he rather embraced it. He had no fear of dying anymore.
"I was born like this, and I cannot see. My hearing is much better than a normal human because I cannot use my eyes. The people started a rumor of my father and I being demons because this runs in our lineage." The boy spoke once more. "I am just human, as was my father before me."
"How did you know the tent was set on fire then?" Kunie asked this maliciously. "For you cannot see it, and neither could your father."
"Your lord's maids had a good laugh. We over heard them speaking of it, and then I didn't hear them again after." He answered earnestly. "We did not harm your lord."
Tedol held up two fingers, signaling the number of maids that had been reported dead from the fire. The three knights knew then that they had been decieved and so had everyone else. Sithe spoke in a mumble, "Those two must have been killed as a meaning to conceal the true story..."
"If this is true, Lord Darrington will plan to invade these lands under false circumstances." Kunie rubbed his chin. Tedol led the boy back to his father's side and sat with him. He traced his sword on the floor and looked towards the entrance as if waiting.
Sithe sighed, "That settles it then. We must right the wrong we have committed, for it is our sworn duty as Holy Knights." He kneeled in front of the boy and bowed his head. "I pledge to protect you, my young king. I will stay by your side and slay anyone who dares lay a finger on you." A rustle came from his left side as Kunie kneeled in pledge as well.
There was a silence, and then the boy stood. He yelled out for anyone left in the castle, but only one small woman appeared after a few minutes passed. She wilted away from the three knights, but the boy reassured her that they would not harm her. "Gather any servants left alive and begin cleaning up the palace. Prepare for my father's burial. Lastly, find any knights that are still alive and treat them for wounds. We must prepare ourselves for another attack."
"Yes, your highness." She bowed slightly and scurried out. The new king looked in the direction he could only assume the knights were still in, "Your lord must die." | |
[WP] A group of holy knights approaches the throne of the demon king, only to find a mourning prince no older than 18 weeping for the death of his father. The kind king who whole heartedly loved all, and wished for peace. The knights learn that their ‘holy’ church secretly started the war. |
With Laser swords drawn the five knights of the Holy church entered the throne room of the palace. They had already dispatched the few remaining guards of the heretic king. His droid armies where no more, all gone in this the final battle of the holy crusade to remove the demon king.
As the entered the throne room, passing the many great statues and works of art, all broken and damaged by the long siege and perilous battle, the spotted the great throne. On it sat a young man with a circlet of gold upon his brown and a black cloak upon his shoulders. At his feet lay the body of an old man, his visage worn by the years, so that not even death could make them look at peace.
In the name of God and the Mother Church, stand too and tell us where the demon king is boy.” Cried Sir John, commander of the Knights. Behind him his four companions, all who remained of their holy chapter in this battle, spread out to surround the throne. Laser swords humming with power, there eyes alert for anymore droid soldiers.
With calmness in his movements and sadness in his eyes, the young man leaned back upon the throne and viewed Sir John with eyes of cold grey. “you need not look far, for your so-called demon king, for my father lays here, dead upon my feat. Slain by his own hands, he hoped his death would be enough to stop your assault, but no, you monsters took no quarters and gave no mercy, well here he is, you monster, your demon king. Look upon him, look upon the face of man who only ever hoped for peace, who so loved his people and life that he created an army of robotic warriors to fit in their stead. Yet it seems this was not enough, as I see now that the value of no one life is worth the sacrifice of freedom for generations yet unborn. For only warrior meeting warrior can defend the sacred shores of our liberty.” His peace said, the young prince fell silent and viewed the faces of the hated knights who fought for there hated holy war.
Sir john laughed at the words spoken, “Come now boy, do not be a fool, we know the demon king is an abomination of metal like his accursed armies. No man of flesh, the archbishop has told us so.” As he spoke the knight moved the still form of the old man. What final trickery is this of the demon king, to coward to face us soldiers of god. He kills a man and thinks to have him take his place.” Raising his sword Sir john plunged it into the corpse and withered and then hacked off the head. Raising his sword, he pointed it at the young man.
“Take us to the true demon king boy, and no more games, lest you meet god early.”
Undaunted by the threats of ignorant men, the prince rose from his late fathers throne and knelt before the body of his father, mutilated and disgraced even in death afforded no peace. “place your sword at my neck ignoble knight for I have no more time or patience with you, who is to stupid to see the truth of the lie he so blindly follows. My father the king is dead, and he was no demon, an neither am I; we are simply men who loved the liberty of our land and would never bow before the slavery of your church. So strike your blow and finish this, but know that while you have destroyed the armies of my father, our people have seen the horror of what you bring and shall rise up again and again until the day comes when your church lies broken, your lies made bare, and the tyranny you so blindly follow has been blasted from the face of this earth, and freedom once again reigns. Fools, our allies have seen through your lie and even now the alliance has been brokered by my younger brother. The hour of your reckoning comes near, so strike me down!” and with this the prince prostrated him self across the body of his father and made clear his decision. Wasting no time Sir john chopped off the head of young heretic.
“Search the place top to bottom, find me the demon king, and kill all who protest and protect him, God and Mother Church wills it” cried Sir John, “For God and Church” chorused the other knights, and they spread through the palace killing and destroying through out the day, asking each person the found where the demon king hid, and each answered dead upon the steps of the throne.
Finally, as the sun set in blood red hues upon the smoking ruin of the city, Sir john and his knights stood once again before the bodies of the king and prince, forced to face the truth, there was no demon king. No monster of metal, for the only monsters present where themselves, surrounded by the blood of innocents. | "I had wondered about the truth of the war," our monk Matteo murmured, as he headed to the child.
We had been out here in this foreign country for weeks, searching for and destroying "demonic strongholds", which had been oddly filled with gold and jewels and holy relics.
Matteo kneeled before the child, praying. "Father, please bless this young king with serenity, and please forgive us our greatest sins."
"I-I," the king wiped his face, "I know you have been fooled, and I-I... I can find it in myself to forgive your folly." He stood, his voice finding more and more strength as he spoke.
"But please, you cannot go back to your homes. I will send all the messengers I have to your families."
"To what end, King ?" I asked, touching my sword. The king flinched.
"Because I ask that you become my sword, to please find it in yourselves to give kindness to us."
(Might write more later) | |
[WP] A group of holy knights approaches the throne of the demon king, only to find a mourning prince no older than 18 weeping for the death of his father. The kind king who whole heartedly loved all, and wished for peace. The knights learn that their ‘holy’ church secretly started the war. | Three armored figures spread out as they crept through the dark and corrupted castle with extreme caution. Many a brave knight had been slain by evil traps and demonic trickery during their long campaign, and now they descended into the proverbial the belly of the beast. It was not the time to be complacent.
Sir Findlay, the most experienced of the trio, led the way. A veteran of all three campaigns against the forces of the demonic realm, his wisdom was invaluable to his two young companions.
"Sir Magnus? Guard our right flank. Sir Alistair, keep careful watch on our left. These crossing corridors are the perfect location for an ambush."
The pair did as they were told. Magnus had been a Knight of the Holy Order for a few years now, and had at least some idea of what to expect. But Alistair had just completed his training and was only here presently because of the loss of many more experienced knights suffered on the long journey to arrive at this moment. He was perhaps the finest and most skilled young swordsman in all the realm, but he was also utterly without experience in actual combat. His body shook like a leaf as his nervous eyes glanced left as instructed.
Thankfully, no ambush came and the trio arrived at a massive set of stone doors. Their objective, to slay the Demon King who sat on a twisted throne just beyond this door, was finally within reach. Findlay nodded to the other two and all three pushed on the impossibly heavy gates, slowly forcing them open.
Inside was indeed a dark and horrible throne room. The walls were a sickly, patchwork mix of black and red colors. Skulls, likely of fallen enemies, were mounted to spikes that lined the path to the throne itself. The look of this inner sanctum of pure evil was exactly what they expected. The sound they were greeted by, however, was not.
*Crying.* There was no mistaking it, loud sobs emanated from the darkened far side of the room. The trio moved forward carefully, toward the bizarre sound. Slowly, the throne itself came into view, but seated atop it was not the massive and terrifying Demon King they expected to find, but rather, merely a small boy. A demon, to be sure, but a boy nonetheless. He quieted his sobs as the knights approached.
"We are here on a lawful mission, sanctioned by the Holy Order, and thus God himself, to slay the Demon King," Findlay declared loudly. "Where does he hide, boy? Tell us now and we may spare your life."
"You are too late," the boy sniffed. "Another set of knights, sharing the symbol of your *vile* order, assassinated our dear king just days ago."
"Vile?!" Sir Magnus shouted, infuriated. "How dare you speak such a word to us, monster! Watch your tongue or I shall-"
The boy leapt off the throne and stood directly in front of the much larger knights, shouting in their faces, unafraid. "You shall what?!" he screamed in a rage, his tears returning. "You shall slay me just as you did my loving father? My father who desired only peace, who begged to negotiate an end to your onslaught and invasions into our lands? Why? Because you fear the twisted, sharpened horns on my head? Because my skin is aflame?"
"Father?" Findlay mumbled with concern to his comrades. "In that case, I'm afraid our mission here is not yet complete..."
Alistair was horrified as he realized the implication of Findlay's words. The young knight found his resolve and took the unheard of step of questioning his senior. "Sir, the Demon King is *dead.* Can we not say our duty is done?*"*
"The former king is dead, yes. But naturally his son now ascends the throne to take his place. Our orders are to kill the Demon King, and that new king is now standing before us. Our mission and duty remains unchanged, distasteful as it may seem." Magnus nodded in agreement.
"But... he is a *child!"* Alistair protested. "As Knights of the Holy Order, have we no duty to assess the reality we find, rather than blindly executing orders? We swore *oaths* to protect the innocent regardless of where we find them! A child is not responsible for his father's sins, we believe this and-"
"Do not speak to me of oaths, young man!" Findlay shouted before calming his voice. "Sir Alistair, being your first assignment, it falls to you to finish this task. Speak no more of your objections. Follow your orders, and do your duty."
Alistair peered down the at the young boy standing before him, horrified at the 'task' that had fallen to him. He turned and stared at his commanding officer for a moment before flicking his eyes to his younger comrade, Sir Magnus, desperately hoping to find support for sparing the child's life. Finding none, he raised his sword, closed his eyes briefly, and swung it with a violence and precision few swordsmen could hope to match. He did what had to be done.
His two fellow knights fell to the floor, their heads severed by a single sweeping, whirlwind slash that had passed through both their necks effortlessly.
"What have you done!" the boy cried, too terrified by the sudden act of extreme violence to be grateful for his potential rescue.
"Perhaps the right and moral thing. Perhaps the wrong. That shall have to be sorted at a later date," Alistair replied with a grimace. "Come now, lad. Countless more knights will arrive on your doorstep when Sir Findlay does not return. You cannot be here when they arrive. Nor can I."
As he led the boy out of the throne room, he stepped over the fresh corpses of his fallen former comrades. His duty, as he saw it, dark and dishonorable as it may have been, was finished.
___
___
Thanks for reading. Feel free to check out r/Ryter if you'd like to explore many more of my stories. | "I had wondered about the truth of the war," our monk Matteo murmured, as he headed to the child.
We had been out here in this foreign country for weeks, searching for and destroying "demonic strongholds", which had been oddly filled with gold and jewels and holy relics.
Matteo kneeled before the child, praying. "Father, please bless this young king with serenity, and please forgive us our greatest sins."
"I-I," the king wiped his face, "I know you have been fooled, and I-I... I can find it in myself to forgive your folly." He stood, his voice finding more and more strength as he spoke.
"But please, you cannot go back to your homes. I will send all the messengers I have to your families."
"To what end, King ?" I asked, touching my sword. The king flinched.
"Because I ask that you become my sword, to please find it in yourselves to give kindness to us."
(Might write more later) | |
[WP] A group of holy knights approaches the throne of the demon king, only to find a mourning prince no older than 18 weeping for the death of his father. The kind king who whole heartedly loved all, and wished for peace. The knights learn that their ‘holy’ church secretly started the war. | Three armored figures spread out as they crept through the dark and corrupted castle with extreme caution. Many a brave knight had been slain by evil traps and demonic trickery during their long campaign, and now they descended into the proverbial the belly of the beast. It was not the time to be complacent.
Sir Findlay, the most experienced of the trio, led the way. A veteran of all three campaigns against the forces of the demonic realm, his wisdom was invaluable to his two young companions.
"Sir Magnus? Guard our right flank. Sir Alistair, keep careful watch on our left. These crossing corridors are the perfect location for an ambush."
The pair did as they were told. Magnus had been a Knight of the Holy Order for a few years now, and had at least some idea of what to expect. But Alistair had just completed his training and was only here presently because of the loss of many more experienced knights suffered on the long journey to arrive at this moment. He was perhaps the finest and most skilled young swordsman in all the realm, but he was also utterly without experience in actual combat. His body shook like a leaf as his nervous eyes glanced left as instructed.
Thankfully, no ambush came and the trio arrived at a massive set of stone doors. Their objective, to slay the Demon King who sat on a twisted throne just beyond this door, was finally within reach. Findlay nodded to the other two and all three pushed on the impossibly heavy gates, slowly forcing them open.
Inside was indeed a dark and horrible throne room. The walls were a sickly, patchwork mix of black and red colors. Skulls, likely of fallen enemies, were mounted to spikes that lined the path to the throne itself. The look of this inner sanctum of pure evil was exactly what they expected. The sound they were greeted by, however, was not.
*Crying.* There was no mistaking it, loud sobs emanated from the darkened far side of the room. The trio moved forward carefully, toward the bizarre sound. Slowly, the throne itself came into view, but seated atop it was not the massive and terrifying Demon King they expected to find, but rather, merely a small boy. A demon, to be sure, but a boy nonetheless. He quieted his sobs as the knights approached.
"We are here on a lawful mission, sanctioned by the Holy Order, and thus God himself, to slay the Demon King," Findlay declared loudly. "Where does he hide, boy? Tell us now and we may spare your life."
"You are too late," the boy sniffed. "Another set of knights, sharing the symbol of your *vile* order, assassinated our dear king just days ago."
"Vile?!" Sir Magnus shouted, infuriated. "How dare you speak such a word to us, monster! Watch your tongue or I shall-"
The boy leapt off the throne and stood directly in front of the much larger knights, shouting in their faces, unafraid. "You shall what?!" he screamed in a rage, his tears returning. "You shall slay me just as you did my loving father? My father who desired only peace, who begged to negotiate an end to your onslaught and invasions into our lands? Why? Because you fear the twisted, sharpened horns on my head? Because my skin is aflame?"
"Father?" Findlay mumbled with concern to his comrades. "In that case, I'm afraid our mission here is not yet complete..."
Alistair was horrified as he realized the implication of Findlay's words. The young knight found his resolve and took the unheard of step of questioning his senior. "Sir, the Demon King is *dead.* Can we not say our duty is done?*"*
"The former king is dead, yes. But naturally his son now ascends the throne to take his place. Our orders are to kill the Demon King, and that new king is now standing before us. Our mission and duty remains unchanged, distasteful as it may seem." Magnus nodded in agreement.
"But... he is a *child!"* Alistair protested. "As Knights of the Holy Order, have we no duty to assess the reality we find, rather than blindly executing orders? We swore *oaths* to protect the innocent regardless of where we find them! A child is not responsible for his father's sins, we believe this and-"
"Do not speak to me of oaths, young man!" Findlay shouted before calming his voice. "Sir Alistair, being your first assignment, it falls to you to finish this task. Speak no more of your objections. Follow your orders, and do your duty."
Alistair peered down the at the young boy standing before him, horrified at the 'task' that had fallen to him. He turned and stared at his commanding officer for a moment before flicking his eyes to his younger comrade, Sir Magnus, desperately hoping to find support for sparing the child's life. Finding none, he raised his sword, closed his eyes briefly, and swung it with a violence and precision few swordsmen could hope to match. He did what had to be done.
His two fellow knights fell to the floor, their heads severed by a single sweeping, whirlwind slash that had passed through both their necks effortlessly.
"What have you done!" the boy cried, too terrified by the sudden act of extreme violence to be grateful for his potential rescue.
"Perhaps the right and moral thing. Perhaps the wrong. That shall have to be sorted at a later date," Alistair replied with a grimace. "Come now, lad. Countless more knights will arrive on your doorstep when Sir Findlay does not return. You cannot be here when they arrive. Nor can I."
As he led the boy out of the throne room, he stepped over the fresh corpses of his fallen former comrades. His duty, as he saw it, dark and dishonorable as it may have been, was finished.
___
___
Thanks for reading. Feel free to check out r/Ryter if you'd like to explore many more of my stories. |
With Laser swords drawn the five knights of the Holy church entered the throne room of the palace. They had already dispatched the few remaining guards of the heretic king. His droid armies where no more, all gone in this the final battle of the holy crusade to remove the demon king.
As the entered the throne room, passing the many great statues and works of art, all broken and damaged by the long siege and perilous battle, the spotted the great throne. On it sat a young man with a circlet of gold upon his brown and a black cloak upon his shoulders. At his feet lay the body of an old man, his visage worn by the years, so that not even death could make them look at peace.
In the name of God and the Mother Church, stand too and tell us where the demon king is boy.” Cried Sir John, commander of the Knights. Behind him his four companions, all who remained of their holy chapter in this battle, spread out to surround the throne. Laser swords humming with power, there eyes alert for anymore droid soldiers.
With calmness in his movements and sadness in his eyes, the young man leaned back upon the throne and viewed Sir John with eyes of cold grey. “you need not look far, for your so-called demon king, for my father lays here, dead upon my feat. Slain by his own hands, he hoped his death would be enough to stop your assault, but no, you monsters took no quarters and gave no mercy, well here he is, you monster, your demon king. Look upon him, look upon the face of man who only ever hoped for peace, who so loved his people and life that he created an army of robotic warriors to fit in their stead. Yet it seems this was not enough, as I see now that the value of no one life is worth the sacrifice of freedom for generations yet unborn. For only warrior meeting warrior can defend the sacred shores of our liberty.” His peace said, the young prince fell silent and viewed the faces of the hated knights who fought for there hated holy war.
Sir john laughed at the words spoken, “Come now boy, do not be a fool, we know the demon king is an abomination of metal like his accursed armies. No man of flesh, the archbishop has told us so.” As he spoke the knight moved the still form of the old man. What final trickery is this of the demon king, to coward to face us soldiers of god. He kills a man and thinks to have him take his place.” Raising his sword Sir john plunged it into the corpse and withered and then hacked off the head. Raising his sword, he pointed it at the young man.
“Take us to the true demon king boy, and no more games, lest you meet god early.”
Undaunted by the threats of ignorant men, the prince rose from his late fathers throne and knelt before the body of his father, mutilated and disgraced even in death afforded no peace. “place your sword at my neck ignoble knight for I have no more time or patience with you, who is to stupid to see the truth of the lie he so blindly follows. My father the king is dead, and he was no demon, an neither am I; we are simply men who loved the liberty of our land and would never bow before the slavery of your church. So strike your blow and finish this, but know that while you have destroyed the armies of my father, our people have seen the horror of what you bring and shall rise up again and again until the day comes when your church lies broken, your lies made bare, and the tyranny you so blindly follow has been blasted from the face of this earth, and freedom once again reigns. Fools, our allies have seen through your lie and even now the alliance has been brokered by my younger brother. The hour of your reckoning comes near, so strike me down!” and with this the prince prostrated him self across the body of his father and made clear his decision. Wasting no time Sir john chopped off the head of young heretic.
“Search the place top to bottom, find me the demon king, and kill all who protest and protect him, God and Mother Church wills it” cried Sir John, “For God and Church” chorused the other knights, and they spread through the palace killing and destroying through out the day, asking each person the found where the demon king hid, and each answered dead upon the steps of the throne.
Finally, as the sun set in blood red hues upon the smoking ruin of the city, Sir john and his knights stood once again before the bodies of the king and prince, forced to face the truth, there was no demon king. No monster of metal, for the only monsters present where themselves, surrounded by the blood of innocents. | |
[WP] A group of holy knights approaches the throne of the demon king, only to find a mourning prince no older than 18 weeping for the death of his father. The kind king who whole heartedly loved all, and wished for peace. The knights learn that their ‘holy’ church secretly started the war. | Three armored figures spread out as they crept through the dark and corrupted castle with extreme caution. Many a brave knight had been slain by evil traps and demonic trickery during their long campaign, and now they descended into the proverbial the belly of the beast. It was not the time to be complacent.
Sir Findlay, the most experienced of the trio, led the way. A veteran of all three campaigns against the forces of the demonic realm, his wisdom was invaluable to his two young companions.
"Sir Magnus? Guard our right flank. Sir Alistair, keep careful watch on our left. These crossing corridors are the perfect location for an ambush."
The pair did as they were told. Magnus had been a Knight of the Holy Order for a few years now, and had at least some idea of what to expect. But Alistair had just completed his training and was only here presently because of the loss of many more experienced knights suffered on the long journey to arrive at this moment. He was perhaps the finest and most skilled young swordsman in all the realm, but he was also utterly without experience in actual combat. His body shook like a leaf as his nervous eyes glanced left as instructed.
Thankfully, no ambush came and the trio arrived at a massive set of stone doors. Their objective, to slay the Demon King who sat on a twisted throne just beyond this door, was finally within reach. Findlay nodded to the other two and all three pushed on the impossibly heavy gates, slowly forcing them open.
Inside was indeed a dark and horrible throne room. The walls were a sickly, patchwork mix of black and red colors. Skulls, likely of fallen enemies, were mounted to spikes that lined the path to the throne itself. The look of this inner sanctum of pure evil was exactly what they expected. The sound they were greeted by, however, was not.
*Crying.* There was no mistaking it, loud sobs emanated from the darkened far side of the room. The trio moved forward carefully, toward the bizarre sound. Slowly, the throne itself came into view, but seated atop it was not the massive and terrifying Demon King they expected to find, but rather, merely a small boy. A demon, to be sure, but a boy nonetheless. He quieted his sobs as the knights approached.
"We are here on a lawful mission, sanctioned by the Holy Order, and thus God himself, to slay the Demon King," Findlay declared loudly. "Where does he hide, boy? Tell us now and we may spare your life."
"You are too late," the boy sniffed. "Another set of knights, sharing the symbol of your *vile* order, assassinated our dear king just days ago."
"Vile?!" Sir Magnus shouted, infuriated. "How dare you speak such a word to us, monster! Watch your tongue or I shall-"
The boy leapt off the throne and stood directly in front of the much larger knights, shouting in their faces, unafraid. "You shall what?!" he screamed in a rage, his tears returning. "You shall slay me just as you did my loving father? My father who desired only peace, who begged to negotiate an end to your onslaught and invasions into our lands? Why? Because you fear the twisted, sharpened horns on my head? Because my skin is aflame?"
"Father?" Findlay mumbled with concern to his comrades. "In that case, I'm afraid our mission here is not yet complete..."
Alistair was horrified as he realized the implication of Findlay's words. The young knight found his resolve and took the unheard of step of questioning his senior. "Sir, the Demon King is *dead.* Can we not say our duty is done?*"*
"The former king is dead, yes. But naturally his son now ascends the throne to take his place. Our orders are to kill the Demon King, and that new king is now standing before us. Our mission and duty remains unchanged, distasteful as it may seem." Magnus nodded in agreement.
"But... he is a *child!"* Alistair protested. "As Knights of the Holy Order, have we no duty to assess the reality we find, rather than blindly executing orders? We swore *oaths* to protect the innocent regardless of where we find them! A child is not responsible for his father's sins, we believe this and-"
"Do not speak to me of oaths, young man!" Findlay shouted before calming his voice. "Sir Alistair, being your first assignment, it falls to you to finish this task. Speak no more of your objections. Follow your orders, and do your duty."
Alistair peered down the at the young boy standing before him, horrified at the 'task' that had fallen to him. He turned and stared at his commanding officer for a moment before flicking his eyes to his younger comrade, Sir Magnus, desperately hoping to find support for sparing the child's life. Finding none, he raised his sword, closed his eyes briefly, and swung it with a violence and precision few swordsmen could hope to match. He did what had to be done.
His two fellow knights fell to the floor, their heads severed by a single sweeping, whirlwind slash that had passed through both their necks effortlessly.
"What have you done!" the boy cried, too terrified by the sudden act of extreme violence to be grateful for his potential rescue.
"Perhaps the right and moral thing. Perhaps the wrong. That shall have to be sorted at a later date," Alistair replied with a grimace. "Come now, lad. Countless more knights will arrive on your doorstep when Sir Findlay does not return. You cannot be here when they arrive. Nor can I."
As he led the boy out of the throne room, he stepped over the fresh corpses of his fallen former comrades. His duty, as he saw it, dark and dishonorable as it may have been, was finished.
___
___
Thanks for reading. Feel free to check out r/Ryter if you'd like to explore many more of my stories. | The most senior of the knights stepped forward. "Men," he said. "As a member of the King's Council, I can vouch for the words of the demon prince."
These words dampened the chattering of the men like a soft snowfall blanketing the sounds of a city. Understandably, they were confused. Spies had gathered the threads that made up the fabric of the demon king's plot to destroy all of humanity. Every man, woman and child knew of his limitless rage and hate, how he wished to drink the blood of infants and turn their villages to ashes. But now, he was a creature of peace? A veritable sage?
"Sire, what on Hock are you talking about?"
The youngest among them had gathered the courage to speak his mind. Of them all, his heart had the most patriotic of beats, his blood burned with the greatest passion. Everything he had endured, he had endured because of the true conviction possible only in youth, before doubt and regret set in like a festering wound.
"We started the war," said the old knight. The others gasped and raised their brows as if the confirmation was the revelation itself. "And we shall finish it."
"There must be darkness in your heart," said the demon prince, "that you can allow yourself to be driven by such filthy ambitions."
"On the contrary," said the old knight. "I am filled with light. The vibrant light piercing through the hearts and minds of men. The blinding light guiding us towards the true purpose."
The demon prince scoffed. "And what purpose may that be?"
"The same purpose as your late father, prince."
"My father wished for peace!"
"Your father wished for no such thing. What peace is there in a rotting corpse? How do you imagine a peaceful kingdom comes to be? Through war. Men venture into battle against each other after which they merge and become greater than before. Men become villages. Villages become cities. And cities becomes kingdoms. All through war, without which there would be nothing at all. Peace? Don't speak to me of peace. Peace is nothing more than the time that passes between events of unification on an ever grander scale. Your father acted to prevent the unification of demons and men through war, and the old fool thought he wished for peace? No! We are the harbingers of peace, and it rests on the edge of a blade."
With these words the old knight stepped forward and plunged his sword into the belly of the grieving prince.
"Dear prince," he said. "Do you see the light?"
The demon prince choked up a mouthful of blood. "I ... I can see it. It is beautiful."
"Now I shall reunite you with your father. And then I shall unite your people with mine."
With a soft nod, tears streaming down his face, the head of the demon prince was separated from his body. For a brief moment, it stared with fear and trepidation at the men. Right before leaving this world, it saw the young knight unsheathing his sword. | |
[WP] A group of holy knights approaches the throne of the demon king, only to find a mourning prince no older than 18 weeping for the death of his father. The kind king who whole heartedly loved all, and wished for peace. The knights learn that their ‘holy’ church secretly started the war. | Three armored figures spread out as they crept through the dark and corrupted castle with extreme caution. Many a brave knight had been slain by evil traps and demonic trickery during their long campaign, and now they descended into the proverbial the belly of the beast. It was not the time to be complacent.
Sir Findlay, the most experienced of the trio, led the way. A veteran of all three campaigns against the forces of the demonic realm, his wisdom was invaluable to his two young companions.
"Sir Magnus? Guard our right flank. Sir Alistair, keep careful watch on our left. These crossing corridors are the perfect location for an ambush."
The pair did as they were told. Magnus had been a Knight of the Holy Order for a few years now, and had at least some idea of what to expect. But Alistair had just completed his training and was only here presently because of the loss of many more experienced knights suffered on the long journey to arrive at this moment. He was perhaps the finest and most skilled young swordsman in all the realm, but he was also utterly without experience in actual combat. His body shook like a leaf as his nervous eyes glanced left as instructed.
Thankfully, no ambush came and the trio arrived at a massive set of stone doors. Their objective, to slay the Demon King who sat on a twisted throne just beyond this door, was finally within reach. Findlay nodded to the other two and all three pushed on the impossibly heavy gates, slowly forcing them open.
Inside was indeed a dark and horrible throne room. The walls were a sickly, patchwork mix of black and red colors. Skulls, likely of fallen enemies, were mounted to spikes that lined the path to the throne itself. The look of this inner sanctum of pure evil was exactly what they expected. The sound they were greeted by, however, was not.
*Crying.* There was no mistaking it, loud sobs emanated from the darkened far side of the room. The trio moved forward carefully, toward the bizarre sound. Slowly, the throne itself came into view, but seated atop it was not the massive and terrifying Demon King they expected to find, but rather, merely a small boy. A demon, to be sure, but a boy nonetheless. He quieted his sobs as the knights approached.
"We are here on a lawful mission, sanctioned by the Holy Order, and thus God himself, to slay the Demon King," Findlay declared loudly. "Where does he hide, boy? Tell us now and we may spare your life."
"You are too late," the boy sniffed. "Another set of knights, sharing the symbol of your *vile* order, assassinated our dear king just days ago."
"Vile?!" Sir Magnus shouted, infuriated. "How dare you speak such a word to us, monster! Watch your tongue or I shall-"
The boy leapt off the throne and stood directly in front of the much larger knights, shouting in their faces, unafraid. "You shall what?!" he screamed in a rage, his tears returning. "You shall slay me just as you did my loving father? My father who desired only peace, who begged to negotiate an end to your onslaught and invasions into our lands? Why? Because you fear the twisted, sharpened horns on my head? Because my skin is aflame?"
"Father?" Findlay mumbled with concern to his comrades. "In that case, I'm afraid our mission here is not yet complete..."
Alistair was horrified as he realized the implication of Findlay's words. The young knight found his resolve and took the unheard of step of questioning his senior. "Sir, the Demon King is *dead.* Can we not say our duty is done?*"*
"The former king is dead, yes. But naturally his son now ascends the throne to take his place. Our orders are to kill the Demon King, and that new king is now standing before us. Our mission and duty remains unchanged, distasteful as it may seem." Magnus nodded in agreement.
"But... he is a *child!"* Alistair protested. "As Knights of the Holy Order, have we no duty to assess the reality we find, rather than blindly executing orders? We swore *oaths* to protect the innocent regardless of where we find them! A child is not responsible for his father's sins, we believe this and-"
"Do not speak to me of oaths, young man!" Findlay shouted before calming his voice. "Sir Alistair, being your first assignment, it falls to you to finish this task. Speak no more of your objections. Follow your orders, and do your duty."
Alistair peered down the at the young boy standing before him, horrified at the 'task' that had fallen to him. He turned and stared at his commanding officer for a moment before flicking his eyes to his younger comrade, Sir Magnus, desperately hoping to find support for sparing the child's life. Finding none, he raised his sword, closed his eyes briefly, and swung it with a violence and precision few swordsmen could hope to match. He did what had to be done.
His two fellow knights fell to the floor, their heads severed by a single sweeping, whirlwind slash that had passed through both their necks effortlessly.
"What have you done!" the boy cried, too terrified by the sudden act of extreme violence to be grateful for his potential rescue.
"Perhaps the right and moral thing. Perhaps the wrong. That shall have to be sorted at a later date," Alistair replied with a grimace. "Come now, lad. Countless more knights will arrive on your doorstep when Sir Findlay does not return. You cannot be here when they arrive. Nor can I."
As he led the boy out of the throne room, he stepped over the fresh corpses of his fallen former comrades. His duty, as he saw it, dark and dishonorable as it may have been, was finished.
___
___
Thanks for reading. Feel free to check out r/Ryter if you'd like to explore many more of my stories. | Anger’s Breaking Point
The church had stated that the king was to be executed, for he had committed an act against god. Why, then, do the knights see before them a kind young man kneeling before his late father’s throne? Everything clicked once they spoke with the prince. “Sir, we come from The Church of The Israelites. We have been made aware that your father was The Demon King, foretold in your written kingdom origins. This is directly against our holy God and must be punished. But as we see now, God has punished him and you enough.”
“No” the prince said, wiping the tears threatening to spill over onto his cheeks. “My father was no demon. If anything, your bishop is the man against God. My family settle here many years ago. They had two sons, my father, and Kakó.” The knights gasped. “As the family grew a following, their city grew. Then that city turned into an empire. The older brother, my father, was appointed king. His younger brother grew apart from him. He wasn’t jealous, no, he was angry. The night my father fell asleep, Kakó drew his blade and tried to kill him. He failed, and he fled like a coward. My grandfather had always favored Kakó, even though he knew he would not be king. He left after to join Kakó. Last we heard of them, Kakó screamed of how he would make his own empire, and my grandfather would be right by his side.” The knights were in shock. Why would their bishop wage war against his own son?
(WN, this is my first WP on here so go easy on me lol) | |
[WP] A group of holy knights approaches the throne of the demon king, only to find a mourning prince no older than 18 weeping for the death of his father. The kind king who whole heartedly loved all, and wished for peace. The knights learn that their ‘holy’ church secretly started the war. | “Not again!”
The knight tossed his claymore to the ground, balled his fists, and stomped on the pommel.
“Now, Bartholomew, don’t be crass! We’ve got company.”
“Eat shit, Arthur.” Said Bartholomew. “This is the third time- THE THIRD TIME! We’ve already lopped the head off two foreign monarchs purported to have demons stuffed inside just to have the church point at another country and say ‘Woops, silly us, must’ve been the next folks over! Sorry! Demons are a tricky lot, yes? Well, no harm! Bring the gold back and crusade on over to BiffleBaplia to behead the REAL demon king!’”
The knights shuffled their feet.
“He’s got a point,” one said.
“Not you too, Alard!” Arthur said.
“Well he does!” said Alard, “I spent three days breaking down doors in an ancient tower, slaying demons, just to have them all turn out as nuns. Nuns, Arthur! Not particularly good ones, but weren’t no demons.”
Arthur scratched his beard.
“Well,” he said,” we can’t just stop now. We’ve got all this momentum going! And we’ve an image to keep, yes? Holy knights and whatnot. Maybe we kill the boy and stick some horns on him?”
Bartholomew squatted by his claymore. He lifted his head and squinted at Arther.
“Glue horns on him?” He asked.
“Yes,” said Arthur.
“And that’s to make him a demon then? Having horns?” Bartholomew asked.
“Of course,” said Arthur.
“Then what about the deer?”
“The what?”
“Deers got horns, so must be demons then by your book, Arthur.”
“Why that’s silly, Bartholomew!”
“Antlers,” said Alard
“What?” Said Arthur.
“Deers got antlers, not horns, so they can’t be demons. Goats could be. Thems got horns.” Said Alard.
“Right then,” Bartholomew said. “We kill all the goats, and call it a good crusade and go home to stop murdering folks who ain’t demons.”
“That’s ridiculous,” said Arthur. “You can’t just kill goats and call it done with. Demons possess PEOPLE! So they must be people we murder. With horns.”
“What about pigs?” Said Alard.
“Pigs?” Said Arthur and Bartholomew in unison.
“Pigs got demons too,” said Alard. “Happened in the Bible, it did.”
“Good point,” said Arthur. “Compromise, we kill all the goats AND the pigs, and put the horns on the pigs. Fair?”
“Sounds fair,” said Bartholomew.
“Agreed,” said Alard.
“Right,” said Arthur, turning to the weeping boy on the throne. “Sad boy, tell me, where are your pigs?”
Edit: formatting
Edit v2.0: Thanks for the Silver ! Never got an award before ! | Anger’s Breaking Point
The church had stated that the king was to be executed, for he had committed an act against god. Why, then, do the knights see before them a kind young man kneeling before his late father’s throne? Everything clicked once they spoke with the prince. “Sir, we come from The Church of The Israelites. We have been made aware that your father was The Demon King, foretold in your written kingdom origins. This is directly against our holy God and must be punished. But as we see now, God has punished him and you enough.”
“No” the prince said, wiping the tears threatening to spill over onto his cheeks. “My father was no demon. If anything, your bishop is the man against God. My family settle here many years ago. They had two sons, my father, and Kakó.” The knights gasped. “As the family grew a following, their city grew. Then that city turned into an empire. The older brother, my father, was appointed king. His younger brother grew apart from him. He wasn’t jealous, no, he was angry. The night my father fell asleep, Kakó drew his blade and tried to kill him. He failed, and he fled like a coward. My grandfather had always favored Kakó, even though he knew he would not be king. He left after to join Kakó. Last we heard of them, Kakó screamed of how he would make his own empire, and my grandfather would be right by his side.” The knights were in shock. Why would their bishop wage war against his own son?
(WN, this is my first WP on here so go easy on me lol) | |
I posted this a few months ago and it didn't get much love. I hope it does now. I am not a writer so I hope someone can come up with a good story for this. Thank you. | [WP] You've died, and reincarnation is run like a used car lot. Currently the salesman is trying to talk you into a cream puff of a life with "low miles". | Deviated from the original idea a bit but still had a fun time, thanks for the interesting prompt!
- - -
“So what can I get for this?” I leaned on the counter and slathered on my most charismatic smile. I wiggled my Karma voucher in front of the salesman’s nose like a juicy worm on a hook.
He barely looked up from his monitor, bathing his pale featureless face and slick hair with holy light. The tower hummed like a soft choir under the desk. “Like your other agent said last time, the absolute best I can get ya is Perodia Magnifica. I’m sorry, uh, what was it— Jacob?”
“Yeah, Jacob,” I grumbled and stepped out of his office, crumpling my measly voucher in my hand.
Perodia Magnifica. When I first heard Magnifica, I thought, hell yeah! Something magnificent for my next life, finally. After living out this one in some suburbs with my stuffy parents, I couldn’t wait for something new.
I couldn’t believe the best he could do for me was a cactus.
We’re not even talking a tall desert cactus, soaking up that glorious desert sun; we’re talking a succulent, stuck in a polka-dotted pot on little ol’ Granny Evelyn’s or Gretchen’s dusty windowsill until she dies.
I pocketed my voucher and collapsed into a nearby chair in the lobby. I held my head in my hands and thought how tragic it would be that the only seating I’d ever know from this point on is the bare, bottom side of a ceramic pot.
I had a lot of time to think about my old life in the long line, but all I could think about was the new one in front of me. I didn’t think that the time some money slipped out of my dad’s wallet and into my back pocket would land me an offer for a beetle. I mean, I never killed anybody!
And I mean... I never meant to hurt anybody...
I was only in high school, I didn’t want to die when I did. I didn’t mean to crash the car, I didn’t mean to cross the lines. I just wanted to have a good time at that bonfire, I couldn’t call my dad. They wanted me to call, but he would’ve killed me just for the vodka on my breath. And I never meant to bring them with me, either...
They didn’t come with me, I knew that much. I would have seen them in the line, but they weren’t there. But from the way the car rolled, I definitely changed their lives. I was selfish, I was egotistical, I was irresponsible.
“Low on Karma?” a voice interrupted over my shoulder. She was around my age, holding a styrofoam cup of something silvery.
I pursed my lips, hesitant to answer.
“What are you going back as?” I quickly changed the subject.
“Human again,” she tipped her cup toward me as if to show me and plopped in the seat across from me, “this will drop me in my new body.”
“Isn’t your mom waiting for you down there, or are you going to put her through a 24 hour labor?”
She chuckled but didn’t put the cup to her lips.
“I don’t feel ready,” she said.
I cast her a strange look.
“Was your past life that good?”
“It wasn’t great, but I did my best. I had cancer, so I knew this was coming. All of this—“ she lifted the ends of her beautiful long brown hair— “is just a memory. This wasn’t there when I died. I wanted to be a nurse, myself. To help those who needed it most. Are you here reflecting on your life too, before you pass on?”
“No,” I answered a little too quickly, too abrasively. Guilt crept through me.
“Ah,” was all she said. I watched her drum her thin fingers on the side of her cup in silence, feeling a little guilty about shutting her down.
“I’m sure they forgive you, for whatever happened, I can see it on your face. You’re not like those other ones that I’ve seen in the lines, with the cold look in their eyes. The ones who are sent back as microbes.”
Warmth from her voice spread through me.
“My best option is a goddamn cactus,” I blurted out, with my usual grace.
She snorted in riotous laughter and her smile lit up the room. I felt a little taken back, but also comforted in a weird way.
“Do you want to get out of here for a while? Take a walk, look around, get to know each other before we let it all go and get to know our new selves? My mom can wait.”
“I’d really like that,” I admitted.
“You know what I’m thinking?” she said, still trying to contain her giggles as she stood up.
“What?” I asked, meeting her halfway and glancing at the lonely cup on the table behind us.
She laughed and glanced up at the ceiling, “whoever’s sitting in the boss’s chair up there definitely has a sense of humor, trying to send you back as a cactus for whatever you did.”
I laughed along and took her hand.
I guess, in a way, I might have been kind of a prick. | I blinked, amazed at the sight in front of me. Crowds of people thronged amongst market stalls, reading brochures and arguing with salespeople. On my left, a man dressed entirely in snakeskin hissed suspiciously at a bewildered old lady.
"Hey! Over here!"
I turned to see a person in a white tunic waving at me. I took a couple of wobbly steps in his direction, just as someone else appeared in the exact spot I'd been standing.
"Yes, that's right..." White tunic ushered me out of the noise and bustle into a cool tent decorated with potplants. Chairs and tables were dotted around, with more white tunics talking to folks who looked as uncertain as I felt.
"What... where..." I didn't know how to begin. I thought I was on a roadtrip with my friends?
"Yes, people are often confused. There's no real easy way to say this. I'm sorry, but you've passed away. It appears you were involved in a road accident. Tea? Coffee? Mojito?"
"Tea?"
A delicate bone china cup appeared in front of me. I raised an eyebrow at the sight of it, but white tunic shrugged. "It's your concept of tea. Don't blame me."
"I don't remember anything?"
"That's standard protocol. Dying can impact the psyche quite severely, so to avoid future problems the final moments are usually erased."
"And my friends?"
"I'm afraid they've passed, too. But they'll have been sent to different markets. We find things are ...less complicated... this way."
Markets.
"So all those people out there..."
"...have died too, yes."
"And what, exactly, is on offer at this market?"
"Why, your next life! You can choose your next adventure. You won't remember this one, of course. Just like you have your past lives blocked. You can access them, if you like, just say the word..."
White Tunic trailed off, probably because I was staring at him with my mouth open. I never believed in reincarnation. I was an atheist, if anything, although I thought catching up with ancestors sounded kinda nice.
"Ok." I replaced my empty teacup on the similarly fine china saucer. "What do I do?" |
I posted this a few months ago and it didn't get much love. I hope it does now. I am not a writer so I hope someone can come up with a good story for this. Thank you. | [WP] You've died, and reincarnation is run like a used car lot. Currently the salesman is trying to talk you into a cream puff of a life with "low miles". | Deviated from the original idea a bit but still had a fun time, thanks for the interesting prompt!
- - -
“So what can I get for this?” I leaned on the counter and slathered on my most charismatic smile. I wiggled my Karma voucher in front of the salesman’s nose like a juicy worm on a hook.
He barely looked up from his monitor, bathing his pale featureless face and slick hair with holy light. The tower hummed like a soft choir under the desk. “Like your other agent said last time, the absolute best I can get ya is Perodia Magnifica. I’m sorry, uh, what was it— Jacob?”
“Yeah, Jacob,” I grumbled and stepped out of his office, crumpling my measly voucher in my hand.
Perodia Magnifica. When I first heard Magnifica, I thought, hell yeah! Something magnificent for my next life, finally. After living out this one in some suburbs with my stuffy parents, I couldn’t wait for something new.
I couldn’t believe the best he could do for me was a cactus.
We’re not even talking a tall desert cactus, soaking up that glorious desert sun; we’re talking a succulent, stuck in a polka-dotted pot on little ol’ Granny Evelyn’s or Gretchen’s dusty windowsill until she dies.
I pocketed my voucher and collapsed into a nearby chair in the lobby. I held my head in my hands and thought how tragic it would be that the only seating I’d ever know from this point on is the bare, bottom side of a ceramic pot.
I had a lot of time to think about my old life in the long line, but all I could think about was the new one in front of me. I didn’t think that the time some money slipped out of my dad’s wallet and into my back pocket would land me an offer for a beetle. I mean, I never killed anybody!
And I mean... I never meant to hurt anybody...
I was only in high school, I didn’t want to die when I did. I didn’t mean to crash the car, I didn’t mean to cross the lines. I just wanted to have a good time at that bonfire, I couldn’t call my dad. They wanted me to call, but he would’ve killed me just for the vodka on my breath. And I never meant to bring them with me, either...
They didn’t come with me, I knew that much. I would have seen them in the line, but they weren’t there. But from the way the car rolled, I definitely changed their lives. I was selfish, I was egotistical, I was irresponsible.
“Low on Karma?” a voice interrupted over my shoulder. She was around my age, holding a styrofoam cup of something silvery.
I pursed my lips, hesitant to answer.
“What are you going back as?” I quickly changed the subject.
“Human again,” she tipped her cup toward me as if to show me and plopped in the seat across from me, “this will drop me in my new body.”
“Isn’t your mom waiting for you down there, or are you going to put her through a 24 hour labor?”
She chuckled but didn’t put the cup to her lips.
“I don’t feel ready,” she said.
I cast her a strange look.
“Was your past life that good?”
“It wasn’t great, but I did my best. I had cancer, so I knew this was coming. All of this—“ she lifted the ends of her beautiful long brown hair— “is just a memory. This wasn’t there when I died. I wanted to be a nurse, myself. To help those who needed it most. Are you here reflecting on your life too, before you pass on?”
“No,” I answered a little too quickly, too abrasively. Guilt crept through me.
“Ah,” was all she said. I watched her drum her thin fingers on the side of her cup in silence, feeling a little guilty about shutting her down.
“I’m sure they forgive you, for whatever happened, I can see it on your face. You’re not like those other ones that I’ve seen in the lines, with the cold look in their eyes. The ones who are sent back as microbes.”
Warmth from her voice spread through me.
“My best option is a goddamn cactus,” I blurted out, with my usual grace.
She snorted in riotous laughter and her smile lit up the room. I felt a little taken back, but also comforted in a weird way.
“Do you want to get out of here for a while? Take a walk, look around, get to know each other before we let it all go and get to know our new selves? My mom can wait.”
“I’d really like that,” I admitted.
“You know what I’m thinking?” she said, still trying to contain her giggles as she stood up.
“What?” I asked, meeting her halfway and glancing at the lonely cup on the table behind us.
She laughed and glanced up at the ceiling, “whoever’s sitting in the boss’s chair up there definitely has a sense of humor, trying to send you back as a cactus for whatever you did.”
I laughed along and took her hand.
I guess, in a way, I might have been kind of a prick. | "A cream puff, you must be joking. You can get sent back as inanimate objects too?" you asked.
"In some dimensions you can, yes. It's supposed to be quite dignified actually, your only experiencing another's karma acting on you. As an inanimate you don't tend to generate karma of your own. It's a nice null state to work out any curses or such. Being a food item is actually an exception. Upon your consumption, with ceasing to exist after digestion and all, but allowing another life to thrive with your demise, instant good karma. Another feather in the cap, y'know? But that doesn't feel right for you right now." Bodhisattva checked his notepad. "Yeah, no you're gonna be a cream puff as in your going to take over a trust fund baby somewhere in North America. Poor lass got hit by a narwhal tusk falling off a tow trailer. Very Final Destination like, broke a few ribs and caused a cardiac arrest where she died for a few minutes. The previous soul got lucky and got pushed forward... They're a Chinese peasant girl somewhere in the 6th century. You take over the second hand life. Got it?"
"I guess so? Is there anything else I should know?"
"Nah, not really, it's not like you're going to remember anyways."
"Don't some people remember past lives?"
"Some souls, yeah, but you aren't there yet. It's even harder for souls to remember visiting Weir Loka anyways. You've been here around six thousand times already, and you don't even remember me." Bodhisattva pouted his lips as if he was hurt, but it didn't reach his eyes. There I only saw how he was ridiculing me. His eyes mocked my lack of awareness. And that was irritating. Really irritating. |
I posted this a few months ago and it didn't get much love. I hope it does now. I am not a writer so I hope someone can come up with a good story for this. Thank you. | [WP] You've died, and reincarnation is run like a used car lot. Currently the salesman is trying to talk you into a cream puff of a life with "low miles". | ***Hai! I made a minor adjustment and wrote it from the perspective of the salesman, lol. Enjoy!***
 
“Cream puffs!” The burley dead man with a thick southern accent howled at me from across the countertop. “Yer tellin’ me that the only life available is a cream puff baker that lives in Minnesota and dies at the age of 28?”
He leaned forward with his hands on his hips and narrowed his eyes. I grinned back. The same stupid grin I’ve had plastered on my face since eight in the morning.
“A cream puff baker isn’t so bad,” I waved a limp hand in the air. “And who wants to live past 28 anyways?” I chuckled as if it were a joke, but he wasn’t chuckling with me. Instead one of his sunken eyes twitched.
“Now listen here, ya weasely little man,” he pointed a finger in my face and I raised an eyebrow, the grin still securely fastened in place. “I demand a refund! I ain’t got time to mess around with no cream puffs in Minnesota! The only darned reason I’m at this god forsaken dump of a reincarnation office is because some flubberneck shot me dead, and now I gotta murder him for murderin’ me.”
“I see,” I replied calmly, nodding my head in implied understanding. “And what is a flubberneck?”
“Wha-!” He threw up his hands with his mouth hinged open and shook his head at the old wrinkled woman behind him. “Can you believe the nerve-?” He motioned to me and the woman pushed the glasses up further on her nose.
“What did you say, sonny?” She croaked, sticking a finger in her ear as if she was trying to unclog it.
“Oh my god darn-never mind!” He turned back to me and slammed his hands on the counter. “Does it really matter what a freakin’ flubberneck is right now? That is not important! I just told yer happy ass crack for a face what’s important!”
You know, it is a rare, unexpectedly useful skill to be able to hold your mouth in a grinning position for a long period of time without faltering, no matter what kind of absolutely outrageous bullshit is said to you. I mean, I don’t like to brag - but damn am I talented.
“I need to get back to Louisiana and hunt that sucker down before he takes off into the bayou.” He sucked a bunch of snot back up into his nasal cavity, gathered a large glob of spit in his mouth and shot it onto the dingy tile floor of the reincarnation office.
I glanced down at the puddle of saliva I’ll have to mop up later, still grinning like a moron, and narrowed my eyes. “There is one other life I can offer you,” I said sneakily. “It’s in Louisiana and you’ll be an alligator farmer-”
“Gators!” He shouted, his nasty sneer turning into a delighted smirk. “Oh I’d love to wrestle me some gators. And the best part is...I’ll be waitin’ in the bayou when that flubberneck tries to escape.” He let out a hearty laugh, “I’ll take it!”
Without another word, we quickly signed the necessary paperwork and he left the office overjoyed. Although, he should have let me finish the life description. Little does he know - he’s only going to be the son of an alligator farmer...who dies at the ripe young age of four.
For the first time today, my grin turned almost evil as I baked in the glory of my sweet revenge. Never again will someone call me a weasel and spit on my dirty office floor! Never again will-
“Hello there, sonny,” the old woman next in line hobbled up to the counter, smiling and completely unaware that her denchers did not travel with her to the afterlife. “Whatcha got for me today?”
I cleared my throat and toned my grin down to something more normal and weird, rather than evil and creepy. Though I’m sure either one would look better than the old lady’s pink, gummy smile.
“How would you like to be a cream puff baker?”
**Hi there! If you liked this story and would like to read more of my stuffs, it can all be found at r/AliesStories. Thanks for reading :3** | "Right, low miles." I cleared my throat. "Let's be frank here, so does that mean I die instantly? Like, in childhood? Why would I live again just to die early?"
He seemed to backpedal, waving his hands in front of him. "Oh, well look here, bud. It's simply a cream puff of a life. A little whipped creamed dashed on the delectable savor of... uh, vitality. You'll never get anything quite like it."
"Born to a billionaire just to die instantly?" I mused. Then I cast my gaze back around this place - this completely white place of limbo, just as you might imagine it to be. Except around me were multiple cars with people, salesmen, surrounding. All beckoning to me with wild eyes and smiles that only looked slightly deranged. Who knew, this was probably hell, and I was certainly dead. I remembered dying like yesterday; but I did not want to remember my life, shithole that it was.
Maybe whatever it was had taken mercy on me, because apparently now I'd been given a chance to manually select a new life... but like all supposed blessings, they come with a catch.
"Here! Old Mercedes Benz for sale!" A guy with a floppy hat waved me over incessantly; not seeing any better course of action, I decided to check that out.
I actually didn't know much about cars, at all. And I honestly wasn't tempted so far to choose anything with so few information. I mean, anything could be a trap. The best sign of some being or higher power had been the sign containing a manual at the beginning of the... limbo car lot. And that hadn't been encouraging, just a few mixed messages and 'good luck'. I still didn't exactly know what I was doing here.
"It's a bit rusty, but this car's steadiness is as good as any. Recently repainted and refurbished. Surely you'd enjoy the ride; top notch seats with plush comfort - "
"Wait," I said. "Where am I riding it to, though?"
"Your new life, of course!" He looked affronted. "You'll enjoy plenty of scenery along the way; don't get held back by rivers of burning hell with the inflatable wheel function. With plenty of gas to spare, you won't break down in a field of the chained damned."
"Okay..." I stated. "What about the warranty? If I drive this car, what happens if it does break down?"
"Well, you'll die, obviously. For real."
"I don't want to die."
"You won't die! Not with this top-notch car. Soon you'll be singing its praises, on the way to a happy life down yonder - "
Suddenly the car salesman was hit with a cream puff.
"He lies," hissed the salesman of the cream puff life. "That car's killed hundreds before. Buy mine instead; any low mileage is made up by the pure joy and salvation obtainable from the tortured labor of angels."
I backed away slowly. "Thanks, but no thanks." |
I posted this a few months ago and it didn't get much love. I hope it does now. I am not a writer so I hope someone can come up with a good story for this. Thank you. | [WP] You've died, and reincarnation is run like a used car lot. Currently the salesman is trying to talk you into a cream puff of a life with "low miles". | "Can I interest you in the deluxe turtle package?"
The salesman, Jeff, was doing his best but it was rather comical. His hair was slicked but split out in random directions in the back. His tie was stuck in his shirt. He had very clearly spilled a *lot* of coffee on his pants some time ago. I knew exactly what I was dealing with, but I went along for the ride anyway. Might as well have a little fun before you have to get back to living, right?
"What does the turtle package include, exactly?" I asked.
"The *deluxe* turtle package, you mean. And it has everything! Island living, housing on both land and in water, and and all you can eat buffet of leaves for every meal for the rest of your life. Trust me, it's *greeeat,*" Jeff assured.
"But won't people find my kids and eat them before they hatch? I don't know if I can live with my kids being eaten, Jeff," I said.
He frowned. "Well, okay, so maybe that isn't the option for you. Just don't come back to me and tell me I didn't give you my best lifespan option right out of the gate, mister. You would've lived a long and healthy life. Anyway, let's see what else I have out here...Ah! How about a slightly malformed whale?"
"Okay, okay, I can see that. Still a long life, beautiful ocean views, seafood. How deformed are we talking?" I asked, trying not to smile.
"Everything works wonderfully except the vocal chords. You still have a beautiful voice, it's just a bit wonky on the pitch," Jeff said.
"Isn't that how they know their pods? Wouldn't I be trapped in a life of lonely drifting, never to be understood or even known by my own kind?" I said.
"But nobody would eat your kids! Isn't that what's really the most important, here?" Jeff said,
I had to stifle a belly laugh while I glared bullets into Jeff's black, beady eyes. This was a fun game to play, but there wasn't much more I could take.
"How about a tree?" Jeff finally said. "You'll be surrounded by other trees, so you'd never be alone. Plenty of food as long as Earth's sun holds out. Some of your kids would die, sure, but some would likely grow alongside you for many years."
I could see a glimmer of hope in Jeff's eyes, which I had to crush just one more time.
"I'm not sure I like thinking of the possibility of being chopped down and eventually made into toilet paper or a coaster or a cereal box, Jeff. Think of the future!"
Jeff would have pulled his hair out had he been able to get any grip on it. But as he quietly cursed to himself under his breath, I gave him a break. "Hey, how about that grasshopper you have in the back?"
"Oh, *sure*," Jeff said in a mocking tone, clearly not believing I could want a life so volatile. "'Oh, but what if some stupid bird eats me! Or what if some bozo steps on me! Or maybe a billion other things I can't possibly control.'"
"Eh, I'll hop around for a bit, see some cool flowers, eat some grass. You know, a simple but good life," I said.
"But your life would be so short!" Jeff said, clearly confused. "That's one of the highest mileage options I have! Why would you want that?" he asked.
"Well, you see, it mostly comes down to hope," I said.
"Hope?" Jeff asked.
"Correct. My life would be short," I said
"How is that hopeful?" Jeff questioned indignantly. "You'll just end up right back here!"
"Exactly. But I'm hopeful that next time, maybe I'll end up with a better salesman."
________________
r/psalmsandstories for more tales by me, should you be interested. | "Right, low miles." I cleared my throat. "Let's be frank here, so does that mean I die instantly? Like, in childhood? Why would I live again just to die early?"
He seemed to backpedal, waving his hands in front of him. "Oh, well look here, bud. It's simply a cream puff of a life. A little whipped creamed dashed on the delectable savor of... uh, vitality. You'll never get anything quite like it."
"Born to a billionaire just to die instantly?" I mused. Then I cast my gaze back around this place - this completely white place of limbo, just as you might imagine it to be. Except around me were multiple cars with people, salesmen, surrounding. All beckoning to me with wild eyes and smiles that only looked slightly deranged. Who knew, this was probably hell, and I was certainly dead. I remembered dying like yesterday; but I did not want to remember my life, shithole that it was.
Maybe whatever it was had taken mercy on me, because apparently now I'd been given a chance to manually select a new life... but like all supposed blessings, they come with a catch.
"Here! Old Mercedes Benz for sale!" A guy with a floppy hat waved me over incessantly; not seeing any better course of action, I decided to check that out.
I actually didn't know much about cars, at all. And I honestly wasn't tempted so far to choose anything with so few information. I mean, anything could be a trap. The best sign of some being or higher power had been the sign containing a manual at the beginning of the... limbo car lot. And that hadn't been encouraging, just a few mixed messages and 'good luck'. I still didn't exactly know what I was doing here.
"It's a bit rusty, but this car's steadiness is as good as any. Recently repainted and refurbished. Surely you'd enjoy the ride; top notch seats with plush comfort - "
"Wait," I said. "Where am I riding it to, though?"
"Your new life, of course!" He looked affronted. "You'll enjoy plenty of scenery along the way; don't get held back by rivers of burning hell with the inflatable wheel function. With plenty of gas to spare, you won't break down in a field of the chained damned."
"Okay..." I stated. "What about the warranty? If I drive this car, what happens if it does break down?"
"Well, you'll die, obviously. For real."
"I don't want to die."
"You won't die! Not with this top-notch car. Soon you'll be singing its praises, on the way to a happy life down yonder - "
Suddenly the car salesman was hit with a cream puff.
"He lies," hissed the salesman of the cream puff life. "That car's killed hundreds before. Buy mine instead; any low mileage is made up by the pure joy and salvation obtainable from the tortured labor of angels."
I backed away slowly. "Thanks, but no thanks." |
[WP] You died, and there is no heaven or hell. It's just like Earth, but you're alone with the love of your life in your special place. | I open my eyes to be blinded by a strong light. I move my hand to cover my eyes like the bill to a hat, but then my hand bumps into the bill of a hat I'm already wearing.
*Strange.* I think to myself. *I didn't remember wearing a hat a moment ago. And what is up with this blinding light?*
The light fades and I wake up in my room, the lights off. I check my phone. 1:34 am.
*Double strange.* I roll over to go back to sleep, but hit my wall. *I don't remember my bed being this small.* As my eyes adjust to the darkness, I see that it was not a wall, but a person laying in my bed.
I jump up out of bed and yell, "What the fuck! Who the fuck are you?!"
The mysterious body jolts out of surprise and rolls over to hear the most beautiful voice say, "Honey, cut the shit and get back in bed." She rolls back over.
I run to wall to find my light switch, but it's not in its normal spot. I scurry to find the switch and throw the lights up. She groans and rolls over once more only to see my terrified face and shaking body.
In that lovely voice she says, "Oh baby, what's the matter?" Then her eyes widen with excitement. "Wait! It's you! It's actually you! The REAL you!"
"What do you mean the real me? Who are you and what are you doing in my bed?!" I yell frightened.
"Charles, you're dead honey. I—"
"WHAT THE FUCK!?" I shout.
"You need to relax, please. I'm Elizabeth, and you're my soulmate. I've been waiting what has felt like an eternity for you." She soothes me with her mellow words.
"I feel compelled to believe you." I calmly say. I feel relaxed. More relaxed than I have ever felt before. With the adrenaline gone, I can focus more clearly on my surroundings. I recognize the room, but not what's in it. My bed used to be pushed up to the corner, and I had only one nightstand, not two. I looked up and saw a ceiling fan. I never had a ceiling fan, just one that sat on my nightstand and a couple lamps to light my room. Then I finally get a good look at the person invading my bed. I fall down to my knees with awe. She's absolutely stunning. She's so beautiful that I can't breathe or utter words. Her hair was a dark blonde that went down a little past her shoulders; she had perfect pink lips and the most adorable nose and ears. Her eyes were emerald jewels that could lose a person in them if they lingered too long. When she stood up with excitement I practically drooled onto the floor. Her body was slammin' hot, the best I've ever seen by a long shot. Perfect breasts, perfect ass, perfect curves, and a perfect face.
She ran over to me and gave me a warm hug. I remain on the floor completely stunned by her beauty. She then gives me a gentle kiss and tears fall down her eyes.
"Wait. I'm dead." I finally say. It all started coming back to me. There I was laying on my bed, a frail old man. Alone in my room. No more family. I was the last one. I laid asleep that night knowing my family would end with me and I would die without ever feeling love.
I bring myself back to see her face looking at mine. "You're my soulmate?" I say weakly.
She replied, "Yes. I died many many years ago. Until now, I have only been thinking of the moment we are finally together. When I passed I was told that I would be here waiting for the love of my life to arrive. I had begun to imagine you and who you would be. I can honestly say I hit the jackpot here. There's so much to catch up on and the rest of eternity to be together!"
"I can't wait to get to know you!" I say relieved.
"Great, now take off that hat. I don't know why you would wear one to bed." She giggled.
I take off my hat, and as I go to grab her hand another blinding white light obscures my vision.
"NO! I CAN'T WAIT ANY LONGER!" I hear Elizabeth scream. "CHARLES NO!"
My vision comes back into focus once more as I wake up in a hospital bed with a crew of medical professionals surrounding me. One has a defibrillator.
"We saved him!" Yelled a doctor. All but one left the room. "You were dead there for a few minutes. Honestly, I wasn't in the mood to bury a young guy like yourself." He leaves the room. I don't quite understand what is happening. I look at my hands and arms and they are smooth and wrinkle free. I feel my face and my skin is tight. Then I see my mother and father walk in with my two brothers and my sister. All come over to me talking at once. I don't pay them any attention. *Was that all just a dream? Or was that real? Did I just recall my death? Do I know when I'll die?* Even with all these questions I can only think of one thing: Elizabeth.
This is my absolute first time writing anything creative. I would love feedback as I could tell me sentence writing and descriptors were rough. Thanks for reading! | "Beeeeeeep" the sound of death rattles in the ICU. Your wife drops the holy book and rushes to the side of your lifeless body laying on the hospital bed. Everything goes white for you. You can't see. You can't hear. You can't even breath. You're in a vacuum of sorts.
2 second of peace for you and then you're back in the bed yet you feel no weight of the accident you had. You have no wounds and you've fully healed all of a sudden. You look at your wife and place your hand at her head to comfort her. She feels nothing and keeps crying. Suddenly your body randomly passes through the bed and hand right through your wife's head.
"Waaaa..."
But everything carries on with the way it did: your wife weeping and the IV sound. Then your entire body falls down through the entire hospital building and deep into the ground. You're falling faster and faster. Everything around you starts fading to black and you can't see anything. You're still falling until suddenly you stop mid air. Youre slowly lowered and your feet touch the ground.
You hear a sound of electric sound lights switching on. Its a huge empty grey hallway.
You ask yourself if you're dead, if you're in heaven or hell or if its another one of your youngest kid Rob's pranks on you.
"Hey rob cut it out now this isn't funny alright bud. i always wished to buy such a place but you know we can't afford it right now bud ." You say
You hear a sound from behind you,
" It's yours Sam, ours."
That voice is fimiliar. No it can't be her. She died when we were 17. You turn around slowly; part doesn't wanna know if it really is her.
"Naida...? I thought you were gone? I..i thought lost you forever? Where are...?"
" heyyy stop right there. One by one okayy?!"
"You haven't changed one bit haha" you let out a laugh. She smiles brightly at you.
"Well you have misterr. Got some grey in your beard and a bit of weight gain suits you Sammy haha."
You both laugh.
"Okay so just listen carefully alright so this place is called Cigea. Basically what happens is when you die you come here. There's no hell or no heaven. There's only Cigea got it?!"
"Yeah i think so"
"Now when i got here i was alone in and could not alter anything in this room cause i had to wait for someone; the love of my life. And you seeing me means i'm yours"
"Wait wait wait i have a wife and 2 kids now naida. "
"Ohh"
"I did love you more than anything and i tried as much as i could to save you. You meant everything to me and im sorry i couldn't and i spent the last....last, 52 years 3 months and 2 days punishing myself for it but i think it's my wife who should be here with me"
"Oh im sorry for putting you through all that..."
She walks away and her feet start sinking into the ground and her body falls into and through ground and she's gone. Sam is left standing there alone
"I'm sorry haida" | |
[WP] You died, and there is no heaven or hell. It's just like Earth, but you're alone with the love of your life in your special place. | *Death is a lot like falling asleep, if falling asleep was the most terrifying thing you'd ever done.*
*I suppose I wouldn't be so scared of death if I had tried a little harder to live a better life. Don't get me wrong, I didn't like...kill people or kick adorable puppy dogs or anything like that. I just sort of...existed. You know how it goes. Find a job, pay the bills. Drink occasionally. Socialize when you have the time and energy. Lather, rinse, repeat. I guess I wish I had more time? I don't know what I'd do differently with it. Maybe go to church or something. I feel like that's going to be a sore point with whoever's in charge of whatever happens next.*
*Speaking of, I should probably open my eyes now. I think I'm done with the actual dying part of death. I hope. I guess I'm about to find out.*
Callista opened her eyes. Then she rubbed them. Then she closed them. Then she opened them again.
*I'd like to amend my previous statement. Death is a lot like...going to the dentist's office, if your dentist happens to have some sort of celestial light being as a receptionist.*
The cheery flurouscent lighting in the spotless office space was annoying for sure, but the figure sitting behind the tidy wrap-around counter was made of pure light, and it hurt Callista's eyes.
*Would it be rude to ask them to turn it down a few hundred watts? Can a being of light even do that? Do they even have ears? What if they can read my thoughts? Oh, fuck. Whoops, sorry, light being. If you can hear this. I am so out of my element here.*
The being smiled before speaking, or at least, that's what Callista thought must've happened, because the warm and loving voice that flowed out of it was so instantly comforting that the thought of it following anything but an encouraging smile was absurd.
"Welcome, Callista Brown, to The Gate."
The being said 'The Gate' so officially, that Callista assumed it was probably capitalized.
"Is--is this the gate to Heaven?"
Callista's physical voice was nowhere near as assured as the running commentary in her mind. It shocked her to hear how...small...she sounded.
The being laughed at Callista's question, and the laughter sounded like every summer rainstorm Callista had ever longed to dance in.
"Not quite the gate to Heaven. Or Hell, before you ask. More of just a gate to...the next existence."
"Is it a good existence, or a bad existence?"
The being cocked its head. Or, it cocked the part of itself where its head would have been if it wasn't made of pure light.
"Was your previous existence a good one, or a bad one?"
*Oh crap, oh crap, oh crap. Here it comes. Wait. Is this a trick question? I mean, my life was a lot of different things. It wasn't all bad. Or all good.*
"Ummm....both?"
The being laughed again, and this time it sounded exactly like every compliment Callista had ever received, distinctly individual but somehow all at once.
"Both. You're right, Callista. Your life was both good and bad, and a bevy of other things on top of that; because reducing an entire lifetime's worth of actions down to just 'good' or 'bad' is extremely inaccurate and in quite poor taste. Your next life will be much the same -- there will be good parts, and bad parts, and all sorts of parts in between. The place you'll be going will seem a lot like Earth. But this is meant to be a sort of...vacation."
Callista raised her eyebrows and licked her lips.
"A vacation sounds great, actually. Didn't get many of those while I was alive."
She clapped and rubbed her hands together.
"All right, I'm as ready as I'll ever be! Sign me up for this vacation life, Light Being!"
The being hesitated.
"Well, there is one more thing..."
*Of course there is.*
"What, do I gotta sit through a 10-year timeshare presentation or something?" she quipped.
The being's laughter echoed off of the walls of the office and this time it hit Callista exactly like the satisfying feeling of watching maple syrup pool into the squares of a fresh, hot waffle.
*Honestly, I wouldn't mind sitting here at The Gate and making this being laugh for a full lifetime.*
"No timeshares. The 'one more thing' is that there will only be one other person in this existence: The love of your life."
Callista's face fell.
"What? I mean...that's, well...that's great and all, but...I never got married. Or dated, really. Honestly, the only time I properly fell in love, it was a total disaster because..." Callista trailed off as her heart skipped a beat. She started pacing around the office.
"Oh. Oh Being, please tell me it's him. It's him, isn't it?"
The being sounded like it was choosing its next words carefully.
"It...he was your soulmate, you know."
Callista stopped dead in her tracks.
"What?!"
"Um...yeah. He...you...I mean...there's not just one perfect match for everyone, that would be cruel. But there are dozens and dozens of types of souls, and some types just fit so perfectly together, like puzzle pieces. Like yours and his. I mean...I know that's not how it turned out for you down there. Just...people aren't always great at making choices, you know? But we still gotta let 'em do what they're gonna do."
It was the most human the being had sounded since Callista arrived.
"I don't know if I'm ready. What if he doesn't choose me...again?"
The being chuckled and it felt like every time Callista had been tucked into a warm bed and gently kissed on the forehead.
"He will. He already has. When we told him he was spending his next existence with the love of his life...your name was the question on his lips."
Callista stopped pacing.
"He...what? He's not even dead yet. He couldn't have...he didn't...he said me?"
"Yes, he said you. Time works differently here. You've only been at The Gate for a few moments, but on Earth, hundreds of years have passed already. Now...if there are no more questions, I believe the love of your life is waiting for you."
The front door to the office opened, and Callista could see what looked like a regular street just outside. Her heart leapt as she allowed herself to feel hopeful for the first time in a long time.
She took a few steps towards the door, and then hesitated and looked back at the being, who had never moved from their position sitting behind the wrap-around counter.
"I know that reducing an entire lifetime down to one word is "in poor taste", or whatever. But...is this gonna be...?"
"It's gonna be so, so good, my dear."
Callista grinned and walked through the front doors.
As they slowly closed behind her, the being of light was already filling out a small stack of paperwork. They looked at the door, grinned, and said to no one in particular,
"I love my job." | "Beeeeeeep" the sound of death rattles in the ICU. Your wife drops the holy book and rushes to the side of your lifeless body laying on the hospital bed. Everything goes white for you. You can't see. You can't hear. You can't even breath. You're in a vacuum of sorts.
2 second of peace for you and then you're back in the bed yet you feel no weight of the accident you had. You have no wounds and you've fully healed all of a sudden. You look at your wife and place your hand at her head to comfort her. She feels nothing and keeps crying. Suddenly your body randomly passes through the bed and hand right through your wife's head.
"Waaaa..."
But everything carries on with the way it did: your wife weeping and the IV sound. Then your entire body falls down through the entire hospital building and deep into the ground. You're falling faster and faster. Everything around you starts fading to black and you can't see anything. You're still falling until suddenly you stop mid air. Youre slowly lowered and your feet touch the ground.
You hear a sound of electric sound lights switching on. Its a huge empty grey hallway.
You ask yourself if you're dead, if you're in heaven or hell or if its another one of your youngest kid Rob's pranks on you.
"Hey rob cut it out now this isn't funny alright bud. i always wished to buy such a place but you know we can't afford it right now bud ." You say
You hear a sound from behind you,
" It's yours Sam, ours."
That voice is fimiliar. No it can't be her. She died when we were 17. You turn around slowly; part doesn't wanna know if it really is her.
"Naida...? I thought you were gone? I..i thought lost you forever? Where are...?"
" heyyy stop right there. One by one okayy?!"
"You haven't changed one bit haha" you let out a laugh. She smiles brightly at you.
"Well you have misterr. Got some grey in your beard and a bit of weight gain suits you Sammy haha."
You both laugh.
"Okay so just listen carefully alright so this place is called Cigea. Basically what happens is when you die you come here. There's no hell or no heaven. There's only Cigea got it?!"
"Yeah i think so"
"Now when i got here i was alone in and could not alter anything in this room cause i had to wait for someone; the love of my life. And you seeing me means i'm yours"
"Wait wait wait i have a wife and 2 kids now naida. "
"Ohh"
"I did love you more than anything and i tried as much as i could to save you. You meant everything to me and im sorry i couldn't and i spent the last....last, 52 years 3 months and 2 days punishing myself for it but i think it's my wife who should be here with me"
"Oh im sorry for putting you through all that..."
She walks away and her feet start sinking into the ground and her body falls into and through ground and she's gone. Sam is left standing there alone
"I'm sorry haida" | |
[WP] An emotionally abusive parent torments their child's holidays with the legend of the Krampus. Sure enough, on Chrismas Eve, Krampus arrives. But his isn't here for the kid. | "I'm sorry Mommy! I-I won't go into the basement anymore, I promise!" Madelyn screamed.
"Good", the 'Mother' replied, "you know exactly what Krampus does to terrible little girls like you. You're lucky that you have me, you know that right?"
"Yes Mom." Madelyn quivered.
"That's better, now get out of my sight you worthless piece of shit." The mother shouted.
Madelyn dashed out of the living room, and went to her bedroom. She plopped on her bed, and then she began to cry in her pillow. Her mother always did this to her, beat her up with her belt and tell her all about Krampus to frighten her.
This time it was particularly bad, as she was in an even more rotten mood than she usually was. She used to never be like this, but when Madelyns' father left 4 years ago when she was three it all started to change. It was like a switch was flipped, and nothing was the same afterwards.
After a few minutes, Madelyn got up from her bed, and wiped her face. She grabbed a box that was under her bed, and took out the paper and pencils inside. It was one of her only possessions.
In desperation, she then began to write a letter to Santa, hoping that he could send someone to help her. Madelyn loved her mom so much, and couldn't understand why she would always shout at and hit her so much. She was a good girl, wasn't she?
Anyways, Madelyn finished her letter, and then she ran outside to the mailbox. She put the letter inside of it, and she ran back into the house. Once inside, she had to be very quiet, as her mother was asleep, and she knew what would happen if she woke her up.
After she made it to her room, she turned off the lights, and went to sleep. Santa was coming, as it was almost Christmas Eve, and Madelyn knew that he had to help her. After all she had written to him, and he just had to.
(Part 1) | **December 4th**
It was a bitterly cold winter day like any other, children flocked to the streets, laughing and playing, couples holding hands and sharing their precious golden years and trees peacefully bobbing from side to side to the force of the wind.
However in a special terraced house, there was a war, a war between an exasperated Mother and her young child, Timothy.
“Give me that back!” she groaned, walking with heavy feet and a heart of rage.
“Can’t catch me! Haha!”
“Timothy - give me the damn wrapping paper.”
“Nuh uh!”
“For Christ’s sake Timothy, if you do not return the wrapping paper to me at *once* I will tell you something, something that little boys like you should not be hearing at your age.” To the Mother’s utter dismay, this only sparked Timothy's interest and like a dog clenching newspapers in its jaw he skipped right back to his Mother and held out the sparkly wrapping paper. However, just before his Mother could decisively snatch the object out of his hand, he clutched it as hard as he could. His face transformed into one of morbid curiosity.
“Tell me.”
“Uhh - uhh, Timothy…” her eyes widened, sweat beginning to form down her cheeks.
“Tell meee.”
This kerfuffle went on for an impressive five minutes, it only ceased when Timothy retracted the wrapping paper which instantly snapped his Mother out of her state of shock.
“Ok, fine then! And - and just saying, you made me do this! Every year on the 5th of December, Krampus begins his hunt.”
“Woah, who’s Krumpus?”
“An evil, evil man Timothy. You know what he does? He punishes all the bad children every year before Christmas. The kinds of children who would put a bug in their friends’ trunks or the ones who steal pencils from their teachers or - or the ones who take wrapping paper from their parents and don’t give it back!” at once she snatched the paper out of his hand, she held it up triumphantly, but Timothy seemingly wasn’t fazed by this repulsive act of treachery, his eyes were still attentive and his ears were yearning for more. Mother knew she shouldn’t have, but this sort of opportunity did *not* come once a year.
“As I was saying, he does bad things to bad children. One time, he ripped a child’s arm clean off!” Timothy recoiled and audibly gasped.
“Another time, he decided to find a kids’ parents and steal all of their money so they couldn’t buy their child a Christmas present, they had to instead buy an atlas and socks!” Timothy began hyperventilating, shaking furiously.
“But then-”
“Stop! Please stop! I don’t want to hear anymore about Krumpus and his stealing and the arms and the, and the” he could hardly catch a breath, his mouth was clawing on to any oxygen it could find.
“Is Krumpus going to attack me? I gave you the paper…” he awaited a positive answer, one that would allow him to exhale a great deal and forget about everything that just happened, but one simple answer from his Mother and his heart was crushed into a sextillion smithereens.
“I don’t know Timothy. I don’t know...” | |
[WP] You often have a dream where you're falling. You always wake up before you hit the bottom. Sometimes you wake up right as you hit the bottom. Tonight, for the first time, you hit the bottom and don't wake up. A voice comes from behind you. "Finally." | I groaned, rolling over onto my side. The voice hadn't registered, though somewhere in the numb back of my mind I could recall hearing it. As I sat up, trying in vain to crack my back and wincing from the effort, it spoke again.
"We've been trying to reach you."
This time, I heard it. I jumped to my feet and spun around as quickly as I could. A young woman stood in front of me, and suddenly we were on a street, little more than an alleyway between buildings. A utility truck that didn't look like it had moved in years was parked behind me, and I backed into it as the woman peered toward me.
"Am... am I dead?" I asked, my voice shaking.
The woman laughed. It sounded almost musical, and far away, as if through a dense fog. Her voice, though, had no such quality.
"Not at all. We've been trying to wake you up."
My eyebrows climbed of their own accord, and I looked up. Suddenly everything snapped back into place - all the times I'd fallen from that same height, only to wake just before I hit the wet pavement. The building I'd fallen from seemed to stretch into forever. All the times I'd dreamt of suicide, I thought something was really wrong with me.
"This is a dream. I haven't woken."
The woman shook her head, dark red hair swaying in front of her face. She tucked it behind an ear and smiled at me. "No, that which you believe is your real body, lying in those sheets with the warm blankets, piano music playing softly from your computer - that is the dream. The dream from which we *all* must wake."
"You can hear my music?" I asked dumbly. She covered her mouth, but from the twinkling of her eyes I thought she was laughing again.
"Sometimes. Every time I watch you vanish, I can hear beautiful music for a moment as you fade away. But I don't hear it now, because you're finally awake."
"I don't understand. Tell me what you're talking about," I pleaded.
She put a finger on the side of her chin, and seemed to be appraising me. Suddenly she cocked her head to the side and looked past me, as if listening to something - or someone - else. When her eyes focused on me again, she sighed, shaking her head. "What a pain... even after all this time, you're still not ready. Maybe next time, Angela," she said.
I didn't see the gun. All I heard was the gun shot. And then... piano music. | I lift my head, searching for the source of the voice. "Hello? Is anyone here?" I ask. I get no answer.
Ok... I think to myself, whatever, I will find my way in here, it's a dream so it's not like I am in danger or anything...
Then, suddenly, I am startled by a shadowy figure standing just in front of me. "Woah!" I say, jumping backwards, "why did you do that?"
"Do you know long I have been waiting for you? Day by day I have been waiting for you here. Do you know how long I have been waiting for you to get to the point that your life will be shitty enough that even a dream that represents how shitty you life is won't be able to accurately do it?", The shadowy figure said.
" Quite a long time? W-What do you plan to do with me, now that I am here?" I said, the voice barely coming out of my mouth.
The shadow looks at himself, "Oh!" He says as suddenly changes his appearance.
Looking like me he says, "I am here to help you, of course!"
------
Hey! I barely write, I am not a native English speaker and I write on mobile. If you have any tips for me I would love to read them in the comment!
Hope you enjoyed reading! | |
[WP] For unknown reasons, you have a curse over your life. Whenever you become best friends with someone, they die within a week. You’ve made it your mission to become best friends with the worst people you can find. | I watched on as chad kicked all the puppies. “HAHA TAKE THAT YOU STUPID MUTTS!” The man seemed to enjoy the horror he was causing. He braced himself for another kick when suddenly he was on the ground, covered in angry dogs. I ignored his screams of pain and looked at my list.
Crossing off chad’s name, I looked at who was next. A woman by the name of Karen was there. Good news, I thought. That antivaxxing entitled parent will be pleased to finally have a friend, and the world will be pleased to have one less science denier. | With an incandescent purple light, the spell took hold. Dark flames billowed out around the humble staff of the old wizard, bathing him and his apprentice in light. "Why do you do these things to people like this, master? I thought we were trying to change the world for the better?" The older wizard simply nodded. "We are. But people are strange, and that is the first thing you should learn. No two minds are exactly alike, and while this would be horrifying for many, for this man, this man will take it to change the world for the better. People make do with what they have, my pupil, and so our work is not just sunshine and flowers. Good is not soft, just as Evil is not always cruel".
Through the crystal ball on the scrying-table, the subject of the curse was visible. His name was Robert Lancelin. Robert was a humble, charitable merchant, travelling from town to town to make a living, as merchants do. He earned enough that he could live in luxury and retire, but he desired to change the world for the better. But what could one man do?
His question would soon be answered, though it was in a way that he'd never expected. It started with the slit throats of the homeless people he'd taken on in an act of mercy. He had gotten to know them incredibly well. He called them friends. They called him their saviour. He was devastated, but not deterred, and he would befriend another outcast, though this time he took steps to ensure nobody could hurt them. His throat was slit within the end of the day, and none of the caravan guards had seen a thing.
This continued for a couple weeks, Robert growing more distraught as the days passed and the body count grew. Then he came to the grim realisation of what had been done to him, and the realisation that his wish had been granted, in a way that the gods themselves seemed to be laughing at his expense. It was a cruel world indeed, but something in the kind merchant clicked.
If this curse was something he was to live with, then he was going to make the most of it.
All it took was a few gold coins to arrange a party with notable individuals of particular infamy. What would a simple merchant do to them? Words and wine was the answer. He was tried in court for being the suspected murderer, but there was no connection to the deed that could be made to him.
Such is the tale of Robert Lancelin the Cursed, so that the old wizard might teach his apprentice a lesson and change the world at the same time.
​
If you have anything you can see I might be able to fix/improve, let me know. I welcome criticism, provided it is given in a constructive manner! | |
[WP] For unknown reasons, you have a curse over your life. Whenever you become best friends with someone, they die within a week. You’ve made it your mission to become best friends with the worst people you can find. | I stood over Archie. He was slumped. Blood trickled from his mouth onto the floor. Somehow I knew it was my fault. I had gotten too attached to Archie and I had paid the price. I slammed my hand on the ground, sound bouncing off the walls.
How had it happened?
How had Archie died?
And how, weird as it may be, was it my fault?
My hand scraped along the floor making a dragging sound. I winced.
It was my fault. I got too attached and now he was dead. An innocent man's dead.
Footsteps. Pounding, pounding footsteps. Someone came into the room, and the footsteps stopped suddenly and a acream, oh a scream, and they were running, and running and running...
*"Hey, Peta?" Archie asked.*
*"Yeah? What is it?"*
*"I dont feel so good. Maybe I'm sick. I dont know. What did you put in my drink?"*
*I rush over to Archie but it was too late. He was already slouched over. It had happened.*
*Again.*
17 Months Later:
"Hey. How 'bout I buy you a drink?" Jon asked. It had been 6 days. 6 Days since I had befriended him. He was a complete utter shitbag. Thats why -
After Archies death I had chosen to only befriend the bad people. The people who stood out as dirtbags.
"Yeah - Whatever."
"Man, you dont seem like you today. Did you not take the molly I gave 'ya?"
I glanced at the clock. 2 hours. "Yeah - No, I took it. I just -"
"Just what, Homie? You 'ight?"
"Yeah, Mate, I'm fine."
I was fine, because he slouched over *finally* and blood trickled from his mouth.
And when his worried parents asked, I'd say he died of OD. And I'll say that to all the parents of my victims.
All 700 of them.
All the people laying on the ground. | With an incandescent purple light, the spell took hold. Dark flames billowed out around the humble staff of the old wizard, bathing him and his apprentice in light. "Why do you do these things to people like this, master? I thought we were trying to change the world for the better?" The older wizard simply nodded. "We are. But people are strange, and that is the first thing you should learn. No two minds are exactly alike, and while this would be horrifying for many, for this man, this man will take it to change the world for the better. People make do with what they have, my pupil, and so our work is not just sunshine and flowers. Good is not soft, just as Evil is not always cruel".
Through the crystal ball on the scrying-table, the subject of the curse was visible. His name was Robert Lancelin. Robert was a humble, charitable merchant, travelling from town to town to make a living, as merchants do. He earned enough that he could live in luxury and retire, but he desired to change the world for the better. But what could one man do?
His question would soon be answered, though it was in a way that he'd never expected. It started with the slit throats of the homeless people he'd taken on in an act of mercy. He had gotten to know them incredibly well. He called them friends. They called him their saviour. He was devastated, but not deterred, and he would befriend another outcast, though this time he took steps to ensure nobody could hurt them. His throat was slit within the end of the day, and none of the caravan guards had seen a thing.
This continued for a couple weeks, Robert growing more distraught as the days passed and the body count grew. Then he came to the grim realisation of what had been done to him, and the realisation that his wish had been granted, in a way that the gods themselves seemed to be laughing at his expense. It was a cruel world indeed, but something in the kind merchant clicked.
If this curse was something he was to live with, then he was going to make the most of it.
All it took was a few gold coins to arrange a party with notable individuals of particular infamy. What would a simple merchant do to them? Words and wine was the answer. He was tried in court for being the suspected murderer, but there was no connection to the deed that could be made to him.
Such is the tale of Robert Lancelin the Cursed, so that the old wizard might teach his apprentice a lesson and change the world at the same time.
​
If you have anything you can see I might be able to fix/improve, let me know. I welcome criticism, provided it is given in a constructive manner! | |
[WP] For unknown reasons, you have a curse over your life. Whenever you become best friends with someone, they die within a week. You’ve made it your mission to become best friends with the worst people you can find. | I stood over Archie. He was slumped. Blood trickled from his mouth onto the floor. Somehow I knew it was my fault. I had gotten too attached to Archie and I had paid the price. I slammed my hand on the ground, sound bouncing off the walls.
How had it happened?
How had Archie died?
And how, weird as it may be, was it my fault?
My hand scraped along the floor making a dragging sound. I winced.
It was my fault. I got too attached and now he was dead. An innocent man's dead.
Footsteps. Pounding, pounding footsteps. Someone came into the room, and the footsteps stopped suddenly and a acream, oh a scream, and they were running, and running and running...
*"Hey, Peta?" Archie asked.*
*"Yeah? What is it?"*
*"I dont feel so good. Maybe I'm sick. I dont know. What did you put in my drink?"*
*I rush over to Archie but it was too late. He was already slouched over. It had happened.*
*Again.*
17 Months Later:
"Hey. How 'bout I buy you a drink?" Jon asked. It had been 6 days. 6 Days since I had befriended him. He was a complete utter shitbag. Thats why -
After Archies death I had chosen to only befriend the bad people. The people who stood out as dirtbags.
"Yeah - Whatever."
"Man, you dont seem like you today. Did you not take the molly I gave 'ya?"
I glanced at the clock. 2 hours. "Yeah - No, I took it. I just -"
"Just what, Homie? You 'ight?"
"Yeah, Mate, I'm fine."
I was fine, because he slouched over *finally* and blood trickled from his mouth.
And when his worried parents asked, I'd say he died of OD. And I'll say that to all the parents of my victims.
All 700 of them.
All the people laying on the ground. | I'm Greg and as best as I can tell I'm cursed with Death. I was 7 when i lost my first best friend his name was Fred. Over the years I figured it out once a person and I agreed to be friends they would die.
Since I turned 18 I have made it my life's mission to make the world a better place. How you might ask well by befriending the most vile people who exist in the world. You probably imagine I go around befriending drug dealers and thiefs but their just a symptom of the true evil.
I have over the years of course killed many rapists and human traffickers. Over the years however I have moved on to the big game. The polar bear and elephants of evil they call themselves the job Creator's.
And today my mark is a man who dumped millions of gallons of toxic waste into a local river devastating the lives of millions. Now you might be wondering how do I a person born to a normal family get close enough to even see a member of the Job Creator's let alone make friends. Well I don't have a lot of money. But what I do have are a certain set of skills that I have acquired over a decade. I have learned from the best of the best serial killers, con men.
I can talk my way into almost anything I have had a tour of Vatican vault's and had Drinks with Tom Ellis. It's all about finding the weakness of the mark and then exploiting it. Today's mark has a weakness for potato chips that look like boob's.
As they see me and rush over to sit down. I show them the merchandise various boob chips and they ask for my offer I say a 1000 dollars per chip. I smile as I say I'm willing to for a friend make it 500 a chip.
So I start the ritual by saying friends? They of course agree within the 7 second window and the ritual is complete. As they walk out the door excited by the deal they got. It doesn't take long before the universe plays it hand. As I watch the acme safe fall off the back of a truck and proceed to roll over him, only to stop on his head splattering it like a watermelon. I mumble to myself another goddamn Looney tune day. | |
[WP] For unknown reasons, you have a curse over your life. Whenever you become best friends with someone, they die within a week. You’ve made it your mission to become best friends with the worst people you can find. | "Nick, buddy! Good to see you."
I wish that were true for myself to him. If anything, I'd want nothing more than that man to rot. Or I did.
Maxwell seemed to be, in every word, a prick. His hands still had the boils and burns from a domestic struggle half a year ago that I believed he deserved. His backpack had profane messages on it, papers from what I thought to be his job sticking out the sides. His shirt with sweat stains said, "Okay, cool story honey now make me sandwiches," complete with a smiley face and letters in comic sans. Beer and spirits were his pastimes, and that's where I met him, and where I met the others. They all died like clockwork: A week after I'd bribe them with drinks, cajole with them, and make them feel like life was worth living, they ended up dead in their sleep a week later. It just was how it happened. People who were my best friend died. I took that as a goal to be kind to everyone that didn't deserve it, so they'd no longer bother anyone else.
Unlike the others at the bar, though, Maxwell took two weeks to befriend.
"So," I asked, smiling at my new "buddy," "What's the meaning of your shirt? Ladies, right?"
Maxwell squinted at me. "Uh, what the hell do you mean?"
"Your jokes," I said. "They're always degrading chicks. I mean, they deserve it. Fucking women, all they're good at is making men feel good and then pissing them off."
God, I hated to say that.
He grimaced, then cracked a laugh. "heh, yeah, I guess. But you know I'm just joking. I don't ACTUALLY hate women. You're joking, too, right? Please don't tell me you hate anyone, that ain't like you."
Well, I hated Maxwell. No one serious would say things like he said. I'm only saying it for the greater good; what's his excuse?
All I did to respond was shrug my shoulders.
"No, seriously, man," said Maxwell, "what makes you think I'm serious?"
"Your shirt, for one. And you ALWAYS joke about it, for two, so I assumed it was a little hate only."
"Oh, a little?" he said, "that's what makes it acceptable? If that's why you're friends with me because I seem like I don't like some people on this planet, then you can piss off."
I threw my hands up, things not going the way I predicted. He was putting his shield up to hide his inner self, I thought. Trying to escape his emotions.
"Oh, not at all," I said, "I think you're a good guy, I just wanted to know why you're making all those jokes at everyone's expense. And that shirt you wear all the time, the one that tells women to make sandwiches, kinda... off don't you think?"
He looked down and rubbed his hand on his forehead, avoiding my gaze. He took a sip of his coke and rum.
"It's the only long-sleeved shirt I have."
I knew that was probably because he was a bum and had lost his job because he was a dick to everyone. He was a dick to me when he first met me, was a dick to the bartender, and at times a dick to the taxi-drivers. At the time, I didn't feel bad at all. But I kept pressing the questions.
"For your burns, from that fight with your wife that you talk about whenever you're piss-drunk?"
"I talk about that a lot?" Maxwell asked.
He had only talked about it once, but it would be my leverage to crack this man's life wide open. If only I did this before I befriended him, that would make his passing much more satisfying. I nodded to answer.
"Crap, that's not good," he said. "Look, I didn't mean to make Hannah upset. I was on the phone call with a coworker, talking about the project we were working on. Crunch time, right?"
There more to the story than "wife attacked attacker." I shifted in my seat. "Yeah, crunch time."
"she gets mad," he said, then took another sip. "she was cooking dinner. She told me I was going to a coworker's house after work every day? That still didn't make sense. I was only telling the truth the whole time."
I drank my cup of water and continued to nod after realizing that I was doing both subconsciously.
Maxwell winced. "Hannah took the water that she was preparing for the noodles and threatened to pour it on me unless I told the truth. I just was busy with work and the renovation project, that was it. And she didn't believe me."
There was little left of this guy's story that didn't make me regret targetting him. What about the others I befriended at this bar? Did they have similar stories to Maxwell's? But wait, I thought, he still couldn't justify why he was an asshole. There had to be more.
"So did you tell her you were cheating? Is that why?"
"No? I told her the truth again." he rubbed his arms, seething through his teeth. "It hurts to think about the pain, my skin getting close to falling off that night. And the fact she called the cops and said I beat her beforehand. I got arrested, and I couldn't convince the police otherwise."
"You never said that, ever," I said. "You just said you got in a fight with your wife. That's how you got the burns on your hands. Not that she lied, and you got thrown in jail."
he dropped his eyebrows at me. "You can't trust anyone, Nick. Keeping people away is smarter than letting them get close. You happy that I told you now?"
"So why not buy a different shirt, if it's not you?"
He stood up, out of his chair, and took off the covering. Underneath it, his skin had the appearance of Vitiligo. He wiped off the foundation on his face that hid the burns there, and then I knew that he was not the man I thought he was.
"Look, I may have my problems," Maxwell said. "I may be spending my government checks that are supposed to be for helping me find a home on cheap food and expensive drinks. I may be in such a wallowing pit from the pain that I'm not taking care of myself. I might be a dick to everyone, to women to men even to you. But I want to change."
He took out one of the papers from his bag. Others in the bar were looking at him, now shirtless and his scars on full display.
"I've been trying to get a technician job, something more than a room renovator, so I've started studying circuits and practicing for the licensing exams," he said, shaking the paper in front of me. "I hate working for people. Becoming my own boss is the only way that I'd be able to pay for my own home if that could ever happen. They fired me after my arrest got on the news. do you know what that does to you if you can't trust those that initially were your coworkers, let alone those you'd loved for years?"
This man had been through hell and back, was on his way up, and would be culled in a week.
"Anyways," he said, with a sigh, sitting back down and putting his shirt back on, "thanks for letting me rant. I couldn't ever tell anyone else that. Not even Daisy over there." He pointed to the bartender. "I'm glad you're my friend, Nick. I trust you. You're my best bud, the best I've ever had, and probably the only one."
"I'm sorry, man," I said, "but we can't be."
I got out of my chair, suppressed tears, and ran away from the bar, never to come back. | I'm Greg and as best as I can tell I'm cursed with Death. I was 7 when i lost my first best friend his name was Fred. Over the years I figured it out once a person and I agreed to be friends they would die.
Since I turned 18 I have made it my life's mission to make the world a better place. How you might ask well by befriending the most vile people who exist in the world. You probably imagine I go around befriending drug dealers and thiefs but their just a symptom of the true evil.
I have over the years of course killed many rapists and human traffickers. Over the years however I have moved on to the big game. The polar bear and elephants of evil they call themselves the job Creator's.
And today my mark is a man who dumped millions of gallons of toxic waste into a local river devastating the lives of millions. Now you might be wondering how do I a person born to a normal family get close enough to even see a member of the Job Creator's let alone make friends. Well I don't have a lot of money. But what I do have are a certain set of skills that I have acquired over a decade. I have learned from the best of the best serial killers, con men.
I can talk my way into almost anything I have had a tour of Vatican vault's and had Drinks with Tom Ellis. It's all about finding the weakness of the mark and then exploiting it. Today's mark has a weakness for potato chips that look like boob's.
As they see me and rush over to sit down. I show them the merchandise various boob chips and they ask for my offer I say a 1000 dollars per chip. I smile as I say I'm willing to for a friend make it 500 a chip.
So I start the ritual by saying friends? They of course agree within the 7 second window and the ritual is complete. As they walk out the door excited by the deal they got. It doesn't take long before the universe plays it hand. As I watch the acme safe fall off the back of a truck and proceed to roll over him, only to stop on his head splattering it like a watermelon. I mumble to myself another goddamn Looney tune day. | |
[WP] For unknown reasons, you have a curse over your life. Whenever you become best friends with someone, they die within a week. You’ve made it your mission to become best friends with the worst people you can find. | Chapter1
At first you didn't sleep. You hated yourself. Your existence was nothing but grief and regret. What's a life in a studio apartment in New York having some unknown partner pay your rent.
They call the shots. They are always watching... They cut the rope down. It was the easiest way. Every attempt has failed so you keep going.
"Hasn't it become suspicious yet?" You ask yourself thinking of each time you woke up okay.
Your text tone alerts you. That tone has taken a piece of you each time. Sympathy for horrible people is a difficult task but you've never been tasked to befriend someone who is truly evil. They've always had a quality you genuinely love. It's time to do it again.
Jason Warnum
Narcissistic sociopath
Crime: Volunteers at nursing homes and steals from them.
Location: Paris,Kentucky
Chapter 2
Research becomes irrelevant at some point. Making friends with people doesn't come from faking, it comes from a true connection. It's almost second nature and time is a blur. Hopefully he will try and kill me. After a while, you find you love him. Bad family and years of abuse. You offer to help him and he agrees.
Alone in your smelly motel, you cry. The countdown begins.
The next day, he offers to take you to the nursing home where he is returning what he stole the week before.
He's truly changed. You love him.
You arrive early and decide to meet him in the room. Her name is Dolores.
She speaks first.
"It's lovely to see young men such as yourself come and spend time with us. I did the same, you know."
You look at your watch and regret coming early. She continues.
"I though if I spent time with the elderly, I wouldn't be alone when I'm older. My husband, Don and I couldn't have children but we were madly in love. I remember the day we got married like it was yesterday" her tone changes. "I also remember the day he passed. He told me to love others and happiness will always surround you. He was scared. When he passed, I held his hand and he smiled."
It's hard to believe her. You continue to love but it's nothing but pain. She continues.
"I started to love myself. When I accepted that, I began getting visits from Jason. Don was right. Happiness has surrounded me."
She can't know Jason was stealing from her. She will be devastated. You know hes arriving soon.
"Dolores, I will be right back."
Jason is walking in with her jewelry. You intercept him and ask him to donate it. You know she wont need it. He agrees.
You continue to visit Dolores every day until your job with Jason is complete. She continues to tell you about her past and the love she spread through her life.
Chapter 3
Week two. Jason will die today. The job is nearly complete. Dolores is coming back from dinner. You smile when you see her.
She smiles back. "Thank you."
"For what?"
"Being so kind. Don would have loved you. He also would have pointed out that your eyes are sad."
Dolores means the world to you. This was the moment you realized that you killed her. This was also the fort moment in years that you felt anything. The tears start rolling down your face. You know you're about to lose her.
You think about the time you met your mom for the first time after the orphanage. She was beautiful. You killed her with your own selfishness to feel the mother connection. You were blinded by that love and forgot your curse. You hate yourself.
You cant lie. You tell her the truth:
"Ever since I can remember, I have killed the ones I love with compassion. After two weeks, they die. I have gotten to know you and your presence has been intoxicating. I think I killed you, Dolores."
She doesn't believe you. She reaches in for a hug and your cry to her. She comforts you.
"You've brought me happiness. Don was right. And if you're right, I will be reunited with him again. I've been ready to see him. I've lived a life of all emotions. It was beautiful. The best part was loving myself after Don passed. I know he is happy seeing that. Love yourself and happiness will surround you."
Dolores passed away in her sleep October 14th. You believed her. You believed she reunited with Don. You made her happy. This was also the day you went home.
You thought about it the whole flight home. You're happy. You did something good for someone... you love yourself.
Two weeks later, on October 28th, you pass away in your sleep with a smile. You see your mom. She reaches out to hold your hand. You take hers and walk into the light.
"You did good, son. Happiness is all around you." | I'm Greg and as best as I can tell I'm cursed with Death. I was 7 when i lost my first best friend his name was Fred. Over the years I figured it out once a person and I agreed to be friends they would die.
Since I turned 18 I have made it my life's mission to make the world a better place. How you might ask well by befriending the most vile people who exist in the world. You probably imagine I go around befriending drug dealers and thiefs but their just a symptom of the true evil.
I have over the years of course killed many rapists and human traffickers. Over the years however I have moved on to the big game. The polar bear and elephants of evil they call themselves the job Creator's.
And today my mark is a man who dumped millions of gallons of toxic waste into a local river devastating the lives of millions. Now you might be wondering how do I a person born to a normal family get close enough to even see a member of the Job Creator's let alone make friends. Well I don't have a lot of money. But what I do have are a certain set of skills that I have acquired over a decade. I have learned from the best of the best serial killers, con men.
I can talk my way into almost anything I have had a tour of Vatican vault's and had Drinks with Tom Ellis. It's all about finding the weakness of the mark and then exploiting it. Today's mark has a weakness for potato chips that look like boob's.
As they see me and rush over to sit down. I show them the merchandise various boob chips and they ask for my offer I say a 1000 dollars per chip. I smile as I say I'm willing to for a friend make it 500 a chip.
So I start the ritual by saying friends? They of course agree within the 7 second window and the ritual is complete. As they walk out the door excited by the deal they got. It doesn't take long before the universe plays it hand. As I watch the acme safe fall off the back of a truck and proceed to roll over him, only to stop on his head splattering it like a watermelon. I mumble to myself another goddamn Looney tune day. | |
[WP] For unknown reasons, you have a curse over your life. Whenever you become best friends with someone, they die within a week. You’ve made it your mission to become best friends with the worst people you can find. | "Nick, buddy! Good to see you."
I wish that were true for myself to him. If anything, I'd want nothing more than that man to rot. Or I did.
Maxwell seemed to be, in every word, a prick. His hands still had the boils and burns from a domestic struggle half a year ago that I believed he deserved. His backpack had profane messages on it, papers from what I thought to be his job sticking out the sides. His shirt with sweat stains said, "Okay, cool story honey now make me sandwiches," complete with a smiley face and letters in comic sans. Beer and spirits were his pastimes, and that's where I met him, and where I met the others. They all died like clockwork: A week after I'd bribe them with drinks, cajole with them, and make them feel like life was worth living, they ended up dead in their sleep a week later. It just was how it happened. People who were my best friend died. I took that as a goal to be kind to everyone that didn't deserve it, so they'd no longer bother anyone else.
Unlike the others at the bar, though, Maxwell took two weeks to befriend.
"So," I asked, smiling at my new "buddy," "What's the meaning of your shirt? Ladies, right?"
Maxwell squinted at me. "Uh, what the hell do you mean?"
"Your jokes," I said. "They're always degrading chicks. I mean, they deserve it. Fucking women, all they're good at is making men feel good and then pissing them off."
God, I hated to say that.
He grimaced, then cracked a laugh. "heh, yeah, I guess. But you know I'm just joking. I don't ACTUALLY hate women. You're joking, too, right? Please don't tell me you hate anyone, that ain't like you."
Well, I hated Maxwell. No one serious would say things like he said. I'm only saying it for the greater good; what's his excuse?
All I did to respond was shrug my shoulders.
"No, seriously, man," said Maxwell, "what makes you think I'm serious?"
"Your shirt, for one. And you ALWAYS joke about it, for two, so I assumed it was a little hate only."
"Oh, a little?" he said, "that's what makes it acceptable? If that's why you're friends with me because I seem like I don't like some people on this planet, then you can piss off."
I threw my hands up, things not going the way I predicted. He was putting his shield up to hide his inner self, I thought. Trying to escape his emotions.
"Oh, not at all," I said, "I think you're a good guy, I just wanted to know why you're making all those jokes at everyone's expense. And that shirt you wear all the time, the one that tells women to make sandwiches, kinda... off don't you think?"
He looked down and rubbed his hand on his forehead, avoiding my gaze. He took a sip of his coke and rum.
"It's the only long-sleeved shirt I have."
I knew that was probably because he was a bum and had lost his job because he was a dick to everyone. He was a dick to me when he first met me, was a dick to the bartender, and at times a dick to the taxi-drivers. At the time, I didn't feel bad at all. But I kept pressing the questions.
"For your burns, from that fight with your wife that you talk about whenever you're piss-drunk?"
"I talk about that a lot?" Maxwell asked.
He had only talked about it once, but it would be my leverage to crack this man's life wide open. If only I did this before I befriended him, that would make his passing much more satisfying. I nodded to answer.
"Crap, that's not good," he said. "Look, I didn't mean to make Hannah upset. I was on the phone call with a coworker, talking about the project we were working on. Crunch time, right?"
There more to the story than "wife attacked attacker." I shifted in my seat. "Yeah, crunch time."
"she gets mad," he said, then took another sip. "she was cooking dinner. She told me I was going to a coworker's house after work every day? That still didn't make sense. I was only telling the truth the whole time."
I drank my cup of water and continued to nod after realizing that I was doing both subconsciously.
Maxwell winced. "Hannah took the water that she was preparing for the noodles and threatened to pour it on me unless I told the truth. I just was busy with work and the renovation project, that was it. And she didn't believe me."
There was little left of this guy's story that didn't make me regret targetting him. What about the others I befriended at this bar? Did they have similar stories to Maxwell's? But wait, I thought, he still couldn't justify why he was an asshole. There had to be more.
"So did you tell her you were cheating? Is that why?"
"No? I told her the truth again." he rubbed his arms, seething through his teeth. "It hurts to think about the pain, my skin getting close to falling off that night. And the fact she called the cops and said I beat her beforehand. I got arrested, and I couldn't convince the police otherwise."
"You never said that, ever," I said. "You just said you got in a fight with your wife. That's how you got the burns on your hands. Not that she lied, and you got thrown in jail."
he dropped his eyebrows at me. "You can't trust anyone, Nick. Keeping people away is smarter than letting them get close. You happy that I told you now?"
"So why not buy a different shirt, if it's not you?"
He stood up, out of his chair, and took off the covering. Underneath it, his skin had the appearance of Vitiligo. He wiped off the foundation on his face that hid the burns there, and then I knew that he was not the man I thought he was.
"Look, I may have my problems," Maxwell said. "I may be spending my government checks that are supposed to be for helping me find a home on cheap food and expensive drinks. I may be in such a wallowing pit from the pain that I'm not taking care of myself. I might be a dick to everyone, to women to men even to you. But I want to change."
He took out one of the papers from his bag. Others in the bar were looking at him, now shirtless and his scars on full display.
"I've been trying to get a technician job, something more than a room renovator, so I've started studying circuits and practicing for the licensing exams," he said, shaking the paper in front of me. "I hate working for people. Becoming my own boss is the only way that I'd be able to pay for my own home if that could ever happen. They fired me after my arrest got on the news. do you know what that does to you if you can't trust those that initially were your coworkers, let alone those you'd loved for years?"
This man had been through hell and back, was on his way up, and would be culled in a week.
"Anyways," he said, with a sigh, sitting back down and putting his shirt back on, "thanks for letting me rant. I couldn't ever tell anyone else that. Not even Daisy over there." He pointed to the bartender. "I'm glad you're my friend, Nick. I trust you. You're my best bud, the best I've ever had, and probably the only one."
"I'm sorry, man," I said, "but we can't be."
I got out of my chair, suppressed tears, and ran away from the bar, never to come back. | There was a time I viewed my supernatural ability as a curse. Whenever I grew close to someone and it didn’t matter who it was for this curse discriminated against no one, they would inevitably die. Why? Unfortunately, I never figured that part out. Not after I took the lives of Adrian, Dana, and Lin. Not even after Beth. She hurt the most. I really liked her. Fortunately for them, death came quick, painless too I’d imagine. Spontaneously they just stopped breathing. All of them- dying the exact same way, right before my very eyes.
There were multiple times, god I can’t even remember how many now, that I wanted to take my own life. The same coincidence can only occur so many times before you realize it’s anything but. At one point, I held a Knife to the wrist. Another, a pill bottle in hand. One time I even held a gun I registered for “self-defense” to my head. I had a myriad of ways out. The one thing I lacked? The stones to actually do something about it.
In a way, I’m grateful I was a coward. Because when the first few close friends died, I thought it was nothing short of a tragedy. That my entire existence was some sort of pitiful tragedy. They all died because they were cursed to get to know me. Over dramatic much? Yeah, I agree. Thankfully, I learned something valuable shortly thereafter. Something you could say was *life-changing*.
You see, I learned that this supernatural gift wasn’t just a rotten curse. No. This was a blessing! When I finally wizened up and stopped allowing myself to be so self-absorbed, I began to take stock of the world around me. I started really paying attention to everything around me. Do you know what I saw? I saw an entire world gone fucking crazy. Excuse me, pardon my French.
I saw so much then, so much bad stuff happening to people who didn’t deserve. Wolves of all kinds wearing the most predatory of skins. Investors who silver-tongued retirement funds from dopey old saps. Priests and clergymen who had promised god himself to their followed, but delivered the devil instead. Cops who wore a badge to conceal the hate that beat within. And then there was my favorite- politicians, I won’t even try shortening their laundry list of sins.
These became my targets. My quarry, as you will. I researched each and everyone of my kills to come, stalking them in the dead of night, speaking to their associates and contacts during the day. I ate up every morsel of their livelihood like it was my damned breakfast and you better believe I scarfed that stuff down. Because I wanted to know them for two reasons: One, were they really the trash that needed to be taking out and two, how did I get inside their head, how could I make them like me. The latter was the most important. I could only stop the hurt they gave once I befriended them.
I’ve been at this game of high stakes cat and mouse for over a decade now. I’ve lost track of the amount of garbage that I’ve disposed of. Do I tire of it? Never. This is my lot in life and now that I fully understand it, I relish the job. Because I know, I’m taking out an innocent persons bane of existence. And that job never ends.
In fact I’ve got another one in my cross-sights. A real piece of work. Right now, as I stare him down from the distance, watching him walk down the boardwalk with that smarmy swagger of his accented by his shit-eating grin, I can feel my hackles raise. This piece of work is dressing down every man who crosses his path and accosting every female he passes. He’s got real wolf blood coursing through his veins, I know it. He’s dangerous. He’s hurt someone before. And if I don’t stop him, he’s going to hurt again.
The problem? I cannot read him like the rest. No family in the area. Hardly a friend to be found and no associates of his I can play off of. The mans a lone wolf in every sense of the word and he’s making it damned difficult.
But if you think that’s enough to deter me, think twice. Wolves like us sit on top of the food chain for one reason- we’re *relentless*. So, you cocky little shit, you better get ready. I’m coming for you. | |
[WP] For unknown reasons, you have a curse over your life. Whenever you become best friends with someone, they die within a week. You’ve made it your mission to become best friends with the worst people you can find. | Chapter1
At first you didn't sleep. You hated yourself. Your existence was nothing but grief and regret. What's a life in a studio apartment in New York having some unknown partner pay your rent.
They call the shots. They are always watching... They cut the rope down. It was the easiest way. Every attempt has failed so you keep going.
"Hasn't it become suspicious yet?" You ask yourself thinking of each time you woke up okay.
Your text tone alerts you. That tone has taken a piece of you each time. Sympathy for horrible people is a difficult task but you've never been tasked to befriend someone who is truly evil. They've always had a quality you genuinely love. It's time to do it again.
Jason Warnum
Narcissistic sociopath
Crime: Volunteers at nursing homes and steals from them.
Location: Paris,Kentucky
Chapter 2
Research becomes irrelevant at some point. Making friends with people doesn't come from faking, it comes from a true connection. It's almost second nature and time is a blur. Hopefully he will try and kill me. After a while, you find you love him. Bad family and years of abuse. You offer to help him and he agrees.
Alone in your smelly motel, you cry. The countdown begins.
The next day, he offers to take you to the nursing home where he is returning what he stole the week before.
He's truly changed. You love him.
You arrive early and decide to meet him in the room. Her name is Dolores.
She speaks first.
"It's lovely to see young men such as yourself come and spend time with us. I did the same, you know."
You look at your watch and regret coming early. She continues.
"I though if I spent time with the elderly, I wouldn't be alone when I'm older. My husband, Don and I couldn't have children but we were madly in love. I remember the day we got married like it was yesterday" her tone changes. "I also remember the day he passed. He told me to love others and happiness will always surround you. He was scared. When he passed, I held his hand and he smiled."
It's hard to believe her. You continue to love but it's nothing but pain. She continues.
"I started to love myself. When I accepted that, I began getting visits from Jason. Don was right. Happiness has surrounded me."
She can't know Jason was stealing from her. She will be devastated. You know hes arriving soon.
"Dolores, I will be right back."
Jason is walking in with her jewelry. You intercept him and ask him to donate it. You know she wont need it. He agrees.
You continue to visit Dolores every day until your job with Jason is complete. She continues to tell you about her past and the love she spread through her life.
Chapter 3
Week two. Jason will die today. The job is nearly complete. Dolores is coming back from dinner. You smile when you see her.
She smiles back. "Thank you."
"For what?"
"Being so kind. Don would have loved you. He also would have pointed out that your eyes are sad."
Dolores means the world to you. This was the moment you realized that you killed her. This was also the fort moment in years that you felt anything. The tears start rolling down your face. You know you're about to lose her.
You think about the time you met your mom for the first time after the orphanage. She was beautiful. You killed her with your own selfishness to feel the mother connection. You were blinded by that love and forgot your curse. You hate yourself.
You cant lie. You tell her the truth:
"Ever since I can remember, I have killed the ones I love with compassion. After two weeks, they die. I have gotten to know you and your presence has been intoxicating. I think I killed you, Dolores."
She doesn't believe you. She reaches in for a hug and your cry to her. She comforts you.
"You've brought me happiness. Don was right. And if you're right, I will be reunited with him again. I've been ready to see him. I've lived a life of all emotions. It was beautiful. The best part was loving myself after Don passed. I know he is happy seeing that. Love yourself and happiness will surround you."
Dolores passed away in her sleep October 14th. You believed her. You believed she reunited with Don. You made her happy. This was also the day you went home.
You thought about it the whole flight home. You're happy. You did something good for someone... you love yourself.
Two weeks later, on October 28th, you pass away in your sleep with a smile. You see your mom. She reaches out to hold your hand. You take hers and walk into the light.
"You did good, son. Happiness is all around you." | There was a time I viewed my supernatural ability as a curse. Whenever I grew close to someone and it didn’t matter who it was for this curse discriminated against no one, they would inevitably die. Why? Unfortunately, I never figured that part out. Not after I took the lives of Adrian, Dana, and Lin. Not even after Beth. She hurt the most. I really liked her. Fortunately for them, death came quick, painless too I’d imagine. Spontaneously they just stopped breathing. All of them- dying the exact same way, right before my very eyes.
There were multiple times, god I can’t even remember how many now, that I wanted to take my own life. The same coincidence can only occur so many times before you realize it’s anything but. At one point, I held a Knife to the wrist. Another, a pill bottle in hand. One time I even held a gun I registered for “self-defense” to my head. I had a myriad of ways out. The one thing I lacked? The stones to actually do something about it.
In a way, I’m grateful I was a coward. Because when the first few close friends died, I thought it was nothing short of a tragedy. That my entire existence was some sort of pitiful tragedy. They all died because they were cursed to get to know me. Over dramatic much? Yeah, I agree. Thankfully, I learned something valuable shortly thereafter. Something you could say was *life-changing*.
You see, I learned that this supernatural gift wasn’t just a rotten curse. No. This was a blessing! When I finally wizened up and stopped allowing myself to be so self-absorbed, I began to take stock of the world around me. I started really paying attention to everything around me. Do you know what I saw? I saw an entire world gone fucking crazy. Excuse me, pardon my French.
I saw so much then, so much bad stuff happening to people who didn’t deserve. Wolves of all kinds wearing the most predatory of skins. Investors who silver-tongued retirement funds from dopey old saps. Priests and clergymen who had promised god himself to their followed, but delivered the devil instead. Cops who wore a badge to conceal the hate that beat within. And then there was my favorite- politicians, I won’t even try shortening their laundry list of sins.
These became my targets. My quarry, as you will. I researched each and everyone of my kills to come, stalking them in the dead of night, speaking to their associates and contacts during the day. I ate up every morsel of their livelihood like it was my damned breakfast and you better believe I scarfed that stuff down. Because I wanted to know them for two reasons: One, were they really the trash that needed to be taking out and two, how did I get inside their head, how could I make them like me. The latter was the most important. I could only stop the hurt they gave once I befriended them.
I’ve been at this game of high stakes cat and mouse for over a decade now. I’ve lost track of the amount of garbage that I’ve disposed of. Do I tire of it? Never. This is my lot in life and now that I fully understand it, I relish the job. Because I know, I’m taking out an innocent persons bane of existence. And that job never ends.
In fact I’ve got another one in my cross-sights. A real piece of work. Right now, as I stare him down from the distance, watching him walk down the boardwalk with that smarmy swagger of his accented by his shit-eating grin, I can feel my hackles raise. This piece of work is dressing down every man who crosses his path and accosting every female he passes. He’s got real wolf blood coursing through his veins, I know it. He’s dangerous. He’s hurt someone before. And if I don’t stop him, he’s going to hurt again.
The problem? I cannot read him like the rest. No family in the area. Hardly a friend to be found and no associates of his I can play off of. The mans a lone wolf in every sense of the word and he’s making it damned difficult.
But if you think that’s enough to deter me, think twice. Wolves like us sit on top of the food chain for one reason- we’re *relentless*. So, you cocky little shit, you better get ready. I’m coming for you. | |
[WP] For unknown reasons, you have a curse over your life. Whenever you become best friends with someone, they die within a week. You’ve made it your mission to become best friends with the worst people you can find. | My first dog, Trick, died three weeks after my parents brought him home. I think I became that little pup's best friend in an hour of us first playing. Took him a fortnight to win my friendship and heart quite as completely. To become my best friend.
A week later, Trick was dead. Vet wasn't sure what had happened. He frowned, scratched his beard, and said, "Must have had a bad heart." Trick didn't have a bad heart -- it was pure and perfect.
I was slower to get attached to our second puppy, that Dad brought home almost a year later. But that sandpaper tongue and bouncing tail won me over.
Again the vet scratched his beard. "Bad heart. Bad luck."
I knew that somehow I'd been responsible. Somehow I'd killed my two little best friends.
This was all but confirmed for me three years later, when I met Robert. Usually, since the dogs' deaths, I kept to myself. If I liked something, I figured, it died. So I spent recesses alone, never went to parties, never made a friend. Just... became alone. And it was easy 'cause kids thought me weird and aloof and were all too happy to avoid me.
Except for Robert.
And I never knew why. Just, he refused to *not* be my friend. One of those types of kids with an electric aura that you just wanted to be near.
"Come on! We'll play some computer games. I swear it'll be fun -- and if it's not then you can just go home."
He was so earnest and persistent that the ice encasing me cracked -- just a little.
Robert's head cracked a few weeks later. You'll maybe think it was because I'd become friends with him. And maybe that was why. But he'd not died of a 'bad heart' like my pups had. He'd been hit by a driver texting on his phone, as Robert walked home from school.
So maybe it was me. Or maybe it was this driver. Either way, I began to form a plan. A terrible, horrible plan that would change everything.
If, when the driver got out of jail (he'd been given less than a year), I befriended him... Became best friends. Then what had happened to Robert, to my dogs, would happen to him, too.
The driver's name was Michael. I turned up at his front door one cloudy afternoon, not long after he got out.
"Hey," he said. Face pale and drawn. He was tall, bald, and tattooed, and it was five in the evening and he was slobbing around in a long dressing-gown. Pathetic. "Can I help you, kid?"
I could hardly speak from rage but I had to swallow it down before I sputtered out something like: you killed my best friend and I hate you and I hope you die. Instead, for my plan to work, I somehow needed to reach the goodness within this asshole. If there was any.
"Hi," I said. "I wanted to say that um, that.... I forgive you," I lied. The toughest lie I'd ever told. "For hitting my friend."
That was my ticket in, I thought.
I didn't expect him to break down sobbing. A seed of guilt planted itself in my stomach.
"Come in," he said eventually, sniffing back tears. "I'll get you a drink."
I sat nervous in his kitchen as he poured me a coke. The table was covered in old photos of him and a woman and two kids. He'd been looking through his memories before I'd come.
"I can't tell you what it means," he said, serving himself a drink out of a clear bottle. There were more empty bottles around us. Littering the sides. "You coming. No one's said those words to me. No one."
"I just didn't want you feeling like it was all your fault. Accidents happen. This was just a big one."
And again the big man wept. "Yeah. It was. A really fucking big one. That poor fucking kid. Was he a good friend?"
"My best," I said.
He nodded, his wet eyes glimmered as they shot a look at the photos. "I'm so sorry." He paused then added, "My best friends have left me now. I can't pretend I know how it feels to lose someone the way you did -- because of an asshole like me. But I'm starting to understand loss."
I didn't want to go back the next day, to this stinking murderous alcoholic's house. But I forced myself to. For Robert.
The man was dressed today but his eyes were just as bloodshot. "You're back?" he said, a ghost of a smile on his lips.
"Thought you could use some company."
He nodded. "Yeah. Think I could. I was going to order takeout. Come on in and I'll get you something."
Every day for a month I forced myself over. Every day for a month, I learned a little more about the murderer. About how much he'd loved his own kids and his wife. How the pain of losing them was only soothed by alcohol and my visits. How the guilt of hitting Robert crushed him. That when he closed his eyes at night, he saw Robert's face. Or had nightmares of hitting his own kids instead.
And my own guilt, that seed in my stomach, had taken root. Was sprouting into something unexpected.
Maybe this guy didn't deserve to die.
The funny thing there was, after a month, he told me if it wasn't for my first visit, he'd be dead by now. He was certain of it. That I'd saved his life. Now, he'd given up drinking and was working on a way to see his kids once a week.
And I didn't feel bad about it. About saving him. 'Cause Robert had reached out to me, when I'd been somewhere alone and dark. I think in a way, Robert would have wanted this.
This man, Michael, wasn't my best friend, but he wasn't far from it. So I told him a last time I forgave him, and that I reckoned Robert did too. But that I couldn't visit so often now. He said he understood.
And that was it.
I became a nurse, a few years later. Found a better way use my gift.
There were terminal patients who needed me. Who had no one left in their life and were travelling slowly, lonely towards death.
I'd sit by their beds and listen to their stories, finally opening my heart up again. I could help them end it with a friend in their life.
They weren't lonely or scared.
And neither was I. | There was a time I viewed my supernatural ability as a curse. Whenever I grew close to someone and it didn’t matter who it was for this curse discriminated against no one, they would inevitably die. Why? Unfortunately, I never figured that part out. Not after I took the lives of Adrian, Dana, and Lin. Not even after Beth. She hurt the most. I really liked her. Fortunately for them, death came quick, painless too I’d imagine. Spontaneously they just stopped breathing. All of them- dying the exact same way, right before my very eyes.
There were multiple times, god I can’t even remember how many now, that I wanted to take my own life. The same coincidence can only occur so many times before you realize it’s anything but. At one point, I held a Knife to the wrist. Another, a pill bottle in hand. One time I even held a gun I registered for “self-defense” to my head. I had a myriad of ways out. The one thing I lacked? The stones to actually do something about it.
In a way, I’m grateful I was a coward. Because when the first few close friends died, I thought it was nothing short of a tragedy. That my entire existence was some sort of pitiful tragedy. They all died because they were cursed to get to know me. Over dramatic much? Yeah, I agree. Thankfully, I learned something valuable shortly thereafter. Something you could say was *life-changing*.
You see, I learned that this supernatural gift wasn’t just a rotten curse. No. This was a blessing! When I finally wizened up and stopped allowing myself to be so self-absorbed, I began to take stock of the world around me. I started really paying attention to everything around me. Do you know what I saw? I saw an entire world gone fucking crazy. Excuse me, pardon my French.
I saw so much then, so much bad stuff happening to people who didn’t deserve. Wolves of all kinds wearing the most predatory of skins. Investors who silver-tongued retirement funds from dopey old saps. Priests and clergymen who had promised god himself to their followed, but delivered the devil instead. Cops who wore a badge to conceal the hate that beat within. And then there was my favorite- politicians, I won’t even try shortening their laundry list of sins.
These became my targets. My quarry, as you will. I researched each and everyone of my kills to come, stalking them in the dead of night, speaking to their associates and contacts during the day. I ate up every morsel of their livelihood like it was my damned breakfast and you better believe I scarfed that stuff down. Because I wanted to know them for two reasons: One, were they really the trash that needed to be taking out and two, how did I get inside their head, how could I make them like me. The latter was the most important. I could only stop the hurt they gave once I befriended them.
I’ve been at this game of high stakes cat and mouse for over a decade now. I’ve lost track of the amount of garbage that I’ve disposed of. Do I tire of it? Never. This is my lot in life and now that I fully understand it, I relish the job. Because I know, I’m taking out an innocent persons bane of existence. And that job never ends.
In fact I’ve got another one in my cross-sights. A real piece of work. Right now, as I stare him down from the distance, watching him walk down the boardwalk with that smarmy swagger of his accented by his shit-eating grin, I can feel my hackles raise. This piece of work is dressing down every man who crosses his path and accosting every female he passes. He’s got real wolf blood coursing through his veins, I know it. He’s dangerous. He’s hurt someone before. And if I don’t stop him, he’s going to hurt again.
The problem? I cannot read him like the rest. No family in the area. Hardly a friend to be found and no associates of his I can play off of. The mans a lone wolf in every sense of the word and he’s making it damned difficult.
But if you think that’s enough to deter me, think twice. Wolves like us sit on top of the food chain for one reason- we’re *relentless*. So, you cocky little shit, you better get ready. I’m coming for you. | |
[WP] For unknown reasons, you have a curse over your life. Whenever you become best friends with someone, they die within a week. You’ve made it your mission to become best friends with the worst people you can find. | "Nick, buddy! Good to see you."
I wish that were true for myself to him. If anything, I'd want nothing more than that man to rot. Or I did.
Maxwell seemed to be, in every word, a prick. His hands still had the boils and burns from a domestic struggle half a year ago that I believed he deserved. His backpack had profane messages on it, papers from what I thought to be his job sticking out the sides. His shirt with sweat stains said, "Okay, cool story honey now make me sandwiches," complete with a smiley face and letters in comic sans. Beer and spirits were his pastimes, and that's where I met him, and where I met the others. They all died like clockwork: A week after I'd bribe them with drinks, cajole with them, and make them feel like life was worth living, they ended up dead in their sleep a week later. It just was how it happened. People who were my best friend died. I took that as a goal to be kind to everyone that didn't deserve it, so they'd no longer bother anyone else.
Unlike the others at the bar, though, Maxwell took two weeks to befriend.
"So," I asked, smiling at my new "buddy," "What's the meaning of your shirt? Ladies, right?"
Maxwell squinted at me. "Uh, what the hell do you mean?"
"Your jokes," I said. "They're always degrading chicks. I mean, they deserve it. Fucking women, all they're good at is making men feel good and then pissing them off."
God, I hated to say that.
He grimaced, then cracked a laugh. "heh, yeah, I guess. But you know I'm just joking. I don't ACTUALLY hate women. You're joking, too, right? Please don't tell me you hate anyone, that ain't like you."
Well, I hated Maxwell. No one serious would say things like he said. I'm only saying it for the greater good; what's his excuse?
All I did to respond was shrug my shoulders.
"No, seriously, man," said Maxwell, "what makes you think I'm serious?"
"Your shirt, for one. And you ALWAYS joke about it, for two, so I assumed it was a little hate only."
"Oh, a little?" he said, "that's what makes it acceptable? If that's why you're friends with me because I seem like I don't like some people on this planet, then you can piss off."
I threw my hands up, things not going the way I predicted. He was putting his shield up to hide his inner self, I thought. Trying to escape his emotions.
"Oh, not at all," I said, "I think you're a good guy, I just wanted to know why you're making all those jokes at everyone's expense. And that shirt you wear all the time, the one that tells women to make sandwiches, kinda... off don't you think?"
He looked down and rubbed his hand on his forehead, avoiding my gaze. He took a sip of his coke and rum.
"It's the only long-sleeved shirt I have."
I knew that was probably because he was a bum and had lost his job because he was a dick to everyone. He was a dick to me when he first met me, was a dick to the bartender, and at times a dick to the taxi-drivers. At the time, I didn't feel bad at all. But I kept pressing the questions.
"For your burns, from that fight with your wife that you talk about whenever you're piss-drunk?"
"I talk about that a lot?" Maxwell asked.
He had only talked about it once, but it would be my leverage to crack this man's life wide open. If only I did this before I befriended him, that would make his passing much more satisfying. I nodded to answer.
"Crap, that's not good," he said. "Look, I didn't mean to make Hannah upset. I was on the phone call with a coworker, talking about the project we were working on. Crunch time, right?"
There more to the story than "wife attacked attacker." I shifted in my seat. "Yeah, crunch time."
"she gets mad," he said, then took another sip. "she was cooking dinner. She told me I was going to a coworker's house after work every day? That still didn't make sense. I was only telling the truth the whole time."
I drank my cup of water and continued to nod after realizing that I was doing both subconsciously.
Maxwell winced. "Hannah took the water that she was preparing for the noodles and threatened to pour it on me unless I told the truth. I just was busy with work and the renovation project, that was it. And she didn't believe me."
There was little left of this guy's story that didn't make me regret targetting him. What about the others I befriended at this bar? Did they have similar stories to Maxwell's? But wait, I thought, he still couldn't justify why he was an asshole. There had to be more.
"So did you tell her you were cheating? Is that why?"
"No? I told her the truth again." he rubbed his arms, seething through his teeth. "It hurts to think about the pain, my skin getting close to falling off that night. And the fact she called the cops and said I beat her beforehand. I got arrested, and I couldn't convince the police otherwise."
"You never said that, ever," I said. "You just said you got in a fight with your wife. That's how you got the burns on your hands. Not that she lied, and you got thrown in jail."
he dropped his eyebrows at me. "You can't trust anyone, Nick. Keeping people away is smarter than letting them get close. You happy that I told you now?"
"So why not buy a different shirt, if it's not you?"
He stood up, out of his chair, and took off the covering. Underneath it, his skin had the appearance of Vitiligo. He wiped off the foundation on his face that hid the burns there, and then I knew that he was not the man I thought he was.
"Look, I may have my problems," Maxwell said. "I may be spending my government checks that are supposed to be for helping me find a home on cheap food and expensive drinks. I may be in such a wallowing pit from the pain that I'm not taking care of myself. I might be a dick to everyone, to women to men even to you. But I want to change."
He took out one of the papers from his bag. Others in the bar were looking at him, now shirtless and his scars on full display.
"I've been trying to get a technician job, something more than a room renovator, so I've started studying circuits and practicing for the licensing exams," he said, shaking the paper in front of me. "I hate working for people. Becoming my own boss is the only way that I'd be able to pay for my own home if that could ever happen. They fired me after my arrest got on the news. do you know what that does to you if you can't trust those that initially were your coworkers, let alone those you'd loved for years?"
This man had been through hell and back, was on his way up, and would be culled in a week.
"Anyways," he said, with a sigh, sitting back down and putting his shirt back on, "thanks for letting me rant. I couldn't ever tell anyone else that. Not even Daisy over there." He pointed to the bartender. "I'm glad you're my friend, Nick. I trust you. You're my best bud, the best I've ever had, and probably the only one."
"I'm sorry, man," I said, "but we can't be."
I got out of my chair, suppressed tears, and ran away from the bar, never to come back. | "Honey, trust me," he had said with whiskey on his breath. "I did kill her, but trust me I could never hurt you and your body."
He, Ferguson W., was the worst man I knew. "We could be friends, you know?" he had told me as he ran his hand down my back.
I always had had luck finding these people at the bar. I giggled my most girlish laugh, "Best friends!"
He smiled his drunken smile. "Deal?" I'd asked.
"Deal," he had replied.
That night he died of cardiac arrest. I figured it out a few months before, I mean, that my best friends all died a week or less after I made them. I made it my mission to befriend the worst people I could find.
After Ferguson, there were a few. George, most notably. It hurt. He was a horrible man, yes, but the way he talked and treated me like a lady was heaven. He was a real friend. One you'd want to hang on to. I guess I can't hang on to anyone anymore. | |
[WP] For unknown reasons, you have a curse over your life. Whenever you become best friends with someone, they die within a week. You’ve made it your mission to become best friends with the worst people you can find. | No one ever understood the letters I sent, many called me crazy. It wasn't unusual for raids on my house to take place, yellow lights being shined in my eyes as some fat detective loomed over my half asleep body, barking questions at my face, his dirty spit flying out with each mad bark. Yet I never did explain it to them, I was quite happy being crazy, because unlike most, There was a method to my madness, a method that had been fine tuned over the years.
"Why did you do it?" Would often be asked of me on a monthly bases, the flickering light of the interrogation room almost becoming enchanting to me at this point, even to the point that I was starting to understand why moths were drawn to the dancing light, there was something so... freeing about it all... yet thats when their fist would slam against the table, they often did try to play nice, but found themselves quickly angered by my dreamlike nature. Of course all they ever had were the letters... and as my lawyer stated, coincidence isn't guilt. My letter read as follows.
Dear Misses Rodgers,
I have heard about your recent crimes and your now less then stellar living conditions, I am sorry to hear about that. The media present you as a monster, But I see you more as a freespirit, A women that did those crimes not out of malice but to show the world a new viewpoint of life. Murder is the freeing of a soul and you are our God. I was hoping we could write? Get to know one another.
Your friend,
Tom Masters.
Of course listing her crimes would most likely be something that would get me banned from most news sites but to put it lightly, imagine the worst things you can think of, then add some mutilation into that. So the letters would flow back and forth until mysteriously she wouldn't write back for a week...
Its funny how easy it is to make friends with prisoners.
This trend would keep up for a few weeks or months, targeting the worst people and removing them. Of course, not everyone would take my bait and eventually my letters would stop getting relieved by prisons, yet I was up to about thirty dead now... maybe thirty three, it was hard to keep track of such things when your letters and belongings were constantly being confiscated.
When I grew up I thought it was a curse, watching friends drop until I was avoided, forced to retire to the library during lunches, as to not disturb the other children, yet.. it wasn't until my late twenties that I discovered how useful my abilities could be. I wish to expand the range of my righteous nature, yet its tricky with so many watching eyes on me, I fear that soon they may catch onto my ability or perhaps they will find ways to stop me from conducting my work... which is why my next steps are oh so important.
{If you enjoyed my story, Feel free to check out r/pmmeyabootysstories where ill be posting some more of my stuff for people to read} | "Honey, trust me," he had said with whiskey on his breath. "I did kill her, but trust me I could never hurt you and your body."
He, Ferguson W., was the worst man I knew. "We could be friends, you know?" he had told me as he ran his hand down my back.
I always had had luck finding these people at the bar. I giggled my most girlish laugh, "Best friends!"
He smiled his drunken smile. "Deal?" I'd asked.
"Deal," he had replied.
That night he died of cardiac arrest. I figured it out a few months before, I mean, that my best friends all died a week or less after I made them. I made it my mission to befriend the worst people I could find.
After Ferguson, there were a few. George, most notably. It hurt. He was a horrible man, yes, but the way he talked and treated me like a lady was heaven. He was a real friend. One you'd want to hang on to. I guess I can't hang on to anyone anymore. | |
[WP] For unknown reasons, you have a curse over your life. Whenever you become best friends with someone, they die within a week. You’ve made it your mission to become best friends with the worst people you can find. | Chapter1
At first you didn't sleep. You hated yourself. Your existence was nothing but grief and regret. What's a life in a studio apartment in New York having some unknown partner pay your rent.
They call the shots. They are always watching... They cut the rope down. It was the easiest way. Every attempt has failed so you keep going.
"Hasn't it become suspicious yet?" You ask yourself thinking of each time you woke up okay.
Your text tone alerts you. That tone has taken a piece of you each time. Sympathy for horrible people is a difficult task but you've never been tasked to befriend someone who is truly evil. They've always had a quality you genuinely love. It's time to do it again.
Jason Warnum
Narcissistic sociopath
Crime: Volunteers at nursing homes and steals from them.
Location: Paris,Kentucky
Chapter 2
Research becomes irrelevant at some point. Making friends with people doesn't come from faking, it comes from a true connection. It's almost second nature and time is a blur. Hopefully he will try and kill me. After a while, you find you love him. Bad family and years of abuse. You offer to help him and he agrees.
Alone in your smelly motel, you cry. The countdown begins.
The next day, he offers to take you to the nursing home where he is returning what he stole the week before.
He's truly changed. You love him.
You arrive early and decide to meet him in the room. Her name is Dolores.
She speaks first.
"It's lovely to see young men such as yourself come and spend time with us. I did the same, you know."
You look at your watch and regret coming early. She continues.
"I though if I spent time with the elderly, I wouldn't be alone when I'm older. My husband, Don and I couldn't have children but we were madly in love. I remember the day we got married like it was yesterday" her tone changes. "I also remember the day he passed. He told me to love others and happiness will always surround you. He was scared. When he passed, I held his hand and he smiled."
It's hard to believe her. You continue to love but it's nothing but pain. She continues.
"I started to love myself. When I accepted that, I began getting visits from Jason. Don was right. Happiness has surrounded me."
She can't know Jason was stealing from her. She will be devastated. You know hes arriving soon.
"Dolores, I will be right back."
Jason is walking in with her jewelry. You intercept him and ask him to donate it. You know she wont need it. He agrees.
You continue to visit Dolores every day until your job with Jason is complete. She continues to tell you about her past and the love she spread through her life.
Chapter 3
Week two. Jason will die today. The job is nearly complete. Dolores is coming back from dinner. You smile when you see her.
She smiles back. "Thank you."
"For what?"
"Being so kind. Don would have loved you. He also would have pointed out that your eyes are sad."
Dolores means the world to you. This was the moment you realized that you killed her. This was also the fort moment in years that you felt anything. The tears start rolling down your face. You know you're about to lose her.
You think about the time you met your mom for the first time after the orphanage. She was beautiful. You killed her with your own selfishness to feel the mother connection. You were blinded by that love and forgot your curse. You hate yourself.
You cant lie. You tell her the truth:
"Ever since I can remember, I have killed the ones I love with compassion. After two weeks, they die. I have gotten to know you and your presence has been intoxicating. I think I killed you, Dolores."
She doesn't believe you. She reaches in for a hug and your cry to her. She comforts you.
"You've brought me happiness. Don was right. And if you're right, I will be reunited with him again. I've been ready to see him. I've lived a life of all emotions. It was beautiful. The best part was loving myself after Don passed. I know he is happy seeing that. Love yourself and happiness will surround you."
Dolores passed away in her sleep October 14th. You believed her. You believed she reunited with Don. You made her happy. This was also the day you went home.
You thought about it the whole flight home. You're happy. You did something good for someone... you love yourself.
Two weeks later, on October 28th, you pass away in your sleep with a smile. You see your mom. She reaches out to hold your hand. You take hers and walk into the light.
"You did good, son. Happiness is all around you." | "Honey, trust me," he had said with whiskey on his breath. "I did kill her, but trust me I could never hurt you and your body."
He, Ferguson W., was the worst man I knew. "We could be friends, you know?" he had told me as he ran his hand down my back.
I always had had luck finding these people at the bar. I giggled my most girlish laugh, "Best friends!"
He smiled his drunken smile. "Deal?" I'd asked.
"Deal," he had replied.
That night he died of cardiac arrest. I figured it out a few months before, I mean, that my best friends all died a week or less after I made them. I made it my mission to befriend the worst people I could find.
After Ferguson, there were a few. George, most notably. It hurt. He was a horrible man, yes, but the way he talked and treated me like a lady was heaven. He was a real friend. One you'd want to hang on to. I guess I can't hang on to anyone anymore. | |
[WP] For unknown reasons, you have a curse over your life. Whenever you become best friends with someone, they die within a week. You’ve made it your mission to become best friends with the worst people you can find. | My first dog, Trick, died three weeks after my parents brought him home. I think I became that little pup's best friend in an hour of us first playing. Took him a fortnight to win my friendship and heart quite as completely. To become my best friend.
A week later, Trick was dead. Vet wasn't sure what had happened. He frowned, scratched his beard, and said, "Must have had a bad heart." Trick didn't have a bad heart -- it was pure and perfect.
I was slower to get attached to our second puppy, that Dad brought home almost a year later. But that sandpaper tongue and bouncing tail won me over.
Again the vet scratched his beard. "Bad heart. Bad luck."
I knew that somehow I'd been responsible. Somehow I'd killed my two little best friends.
This was all but confirmed for me three years later, when I met Robert. Usually, since the dogs' deaths, I kept to myself. If I liked something, I figured, it died. So I spent recesses alone, never went to parties, never made a friend. Just... became alone. And it was easy 'cause kids thought me weird and aloof and were all too happy to avoid me.
Except for Robert.
And I never knew why. Just, he refused to *not* be my friend. One of those types of kids with an electric aura that you just wanted to be near.
"Come on! We'll play some computer games. I swear it'll be fun -- and if it's not then you can just go home."
He was so earnest and persistent that the ice encasing me cracked -- just a little.
Robert's head cracked a few weeks later. You'll maybe think it was because I'd become friends with him. And maybe that was why. But he'd not died of a 'bad heart' like my pups had. He'd been hit by a driver texting on his phone, as Robert walked home from school.
So maybe it was me. Or maybe it was this driver. Either way, I began to form a plan. A terrible, horrible plan that would change everything.
If, when the driver got out of jail (he'd been given less than a year), I befriended him... Became best friends. Then what had happened to Robert, to my dogs, would happen to him, too.
The driver's name was Michael. I turned up at his front door one cloudy afternoon, not long after he got out.
"Hey," he said. Face pale and drawn. He was tall, bald, and tattooed, and it was five in the evening and he was slobbing around in a long dressing-gown. Pathetic. "Can I help you, kid?"
I could hardly speak from rage but I had to swallow it down before I sputtered out something like: you killed my best friend and I hate you and I hope you die. Instead, for my plan to work, I somehow needed to reach the goodness within this asshole. If there was any.
"Hi," I said. "I wanted to say that um, that.... I forgive you," I lied. The toughest lie I'd ever told. "For hitting my friend."
That was my ticket in, I thought.
I didn't expect him to break down sobbing. A seed of guilt planted itself in my stomach.
"Come in," he said eventually, sniffing back tears. "I'll get you a drink."
I sat nervous in his kitchen as he poured me a coke. The table was covered in old photos of him and a woman and two kids. He'd been looking through his memories before I'd come.
"I can't tell you what it means," he said, serving himself a drink out of a clear bottle. There were more empty bottles around us. Littering the sides. "You coming. No one's said those words to me. No one."
"I just didn't want you feeling like it was all your fault. Accidents happen. This was just a big one."
And again the big man wept. "Yeah. It was. A really fucking big one. That poor fucking kid. Was he a good friend?"
"My best," I said.
He nodded, his wet eyes glimmered as they shot a look at the photos. "I'm so sorry." He paused then added, "My best friends have left me now. I can't pretend I know how it feels to lose someone the way you did -- because of an asshole like me. But I'm starting to understand loss."
I didn't want to go back the next day, to this stinking murderous alcoholic's house. But I forced myself to. For Robert.
The man was dressed today but his eyes were just as bloodshot. "You're back?" he said, a ghost of a smile on his lips.
"Thought you could use some company."
He nodded. "Yeah. Think I could. I was going to order takeout. Come on in and I'll get you something."
Every day for a month I forced myself over. Every day for a month, I learned a little more about the murderer. About how much he'd loved his own kids and his wife. How the pain of losing them was only soothed by alcohol and my visits. How the guilt of hitting Robert crushed him. That when he closed his eyes at night, he saw Robert's face. Or had nightmares of hitting his own kids instead.
And my own guilt, that seed in my stomach, had taken root. Was sprouting into something unexpected.
Maybe this guy didn't deserve to die.
The funny thing there was, after a month, he told me if it wasn't for my first visit, he'd be dead by now. He was certain of it. That I'd saved his life. Now, he'd given up drinking and was working on a way to see his kids once a week.
And I didn't feel bad about it. About saving him. 'Cause Robert had reached out to me, when I'd been somewhere alone and dark. I think in a way, Robert would have wanted this.
This man, Michael, wasn't my best friend, but he wasn't far from it. So I told him a last time I forgave him, and that I reckoned Robert did too. But that I couldn't visit so often now. He said he understood.
And that was it.
I became a nurse, a few years later. Found a better way use my gift.
There were terminal patients who needed me. Who had no one left in their life and were travelling slowly, lonely towards death.
I'd sit by their beds and listen to their stories, finally opening my heart up again. I could help them end it with a friend in their life.
They weren't lonely or scared.
And neither was I. | "Honey, trust me," he had said with whiskey on his breath. "I did kill her, but trust me I could never hurt you and your body."
He, Ferguson W., was the worst man I knew. "We could be friends, you know?" he had told me as he ran his hand down my back.
I always had had luck finding these people at the bar. I giggled my most girlish laugh, "Best friends!"
He smiled his drunken smile. "Deal?" I'd asked.
"Deal," he had replied.
That night he died of cardiac arrest. I figured it out a few months before, I mean, that my best friends all died a week or less after I made them. I made it my mission to befriend the worst people I could find.
After Ferguson, there were a few. George, most notably. It hurt. He was a horrible man, yes, but the way he talked and treated me like a lady was heaven. He was a real friend. One you'd want to hang on to. I guess I can't hang on to anyone anymore. | |
[WP] For unknown reasons, you have a curse over your life. Whenever you become best friends with someone, they die within a week. You’ve made it your mission to become best friends with the worst people you can find. | Chapter1
At first you didn't sleep. You hated yourself. Your existence was nothing but grief and regret. What's a life in a studio apartment in New York having some unknown partner pay your rent.
They call the shots. They are always watching... They cut the rope down. It was the easiest way. Every attempt has failed so you keep going.
"Hasn't it become suspicious yet?" You ask yourself thinking of each time you woke up okay.
Your text tone alerts you. That tone has taken a piece of you each time. Sympathy for horrible people is a difficult task but you've never been tasked to befriend someone who is truly evil. They've always had a quality you genuinely love. It's time to do it again.
Jason Warnum
Narcissistic sociopath
Crime: Volunteers at nursing homes and steals from them.
Location: Paris,Kentucky
Chapter 2
Research becomes irrelevant at some point. Making friends with people doesn't come from faking, it comes from a true connection. It's almost second nature and time is a blur. Hopefully he will try and kill me. After a while, you find you love him. Bad family and years of abuse. You offer to help him and he agrees.
Alone in your smelly motel, you cry. The countdown begins.
The next day, he offers to take you to the nursing home where he is returning what he stole the week before.
He's truly changed. You love him.
You arrive early and decide to meet him in the room. Her name is Dolores.
She speaks first.
"It's lovely to see young men such as yourself come and spend time with us. I did the same, you know."
You look at your watch and regret coming early. She continues.
"I though if I spent time with the elderly, I wouldn't be alone when I'm older. My husband, Don and I couldn't have children but we were madly in love. I remember the day we got married like it was yesterday" her tone changes. "I also remember the day he passed. He told me to love others and happiness will always surround you. He was scared. When he passed, I held his hand and he smiled."
It's hard to believe her. You continue to love but it's nothing but pain. She continues.
"I started to love myself. When I accepted that, I began getting visits from Jason. Don was right. Happiness has surrounded me."
She can't know Jason was stealing from her. She will be devastated. You know hes arriving soon.
"Dolores, I will be right back."
Jason is walking in with her jewelry. You intercept him and ask him to donate it. You know she wont need it. He agrees.
You continue to visit Dolores every day until your job with Jason is complete. She continues to tell you about her past and the love she spread through her life.
Chapter 3
Week two. Jason will die today. The job is nearly complete. Dolores is coming back from dinner. You smile when you see her.
She smiles back. "Thank you."
"For what?"
"Being so kind. Don would have loved you. He also would have pointed out that your eyes are sad."
Dolores means the world to you. This was the moment you realized that you killed her. This was also the fort moment in years that you felt anything. The tears start rolling down your face. You know you're about to lose her.
You think about the time you met your mom for the first time after the orphanage. She was beautiful. You killed her with your own selfishness to feel the mother connection. You were blinded by that love and forgot your curse. You hate yourself.
You cant lie. You tell her the truth:
"Ever since I can remember, I have killed the ones I love with compassion. After two weeks, they die. I have gotten to know you and your presence has been intoxicating. I think I killed you, Dolores."
She doesn't believe you. She reaches in for a hug and your cry to her. She comforts you.
"You've brought me happiness. Don was right. And if you're right, I will be reunited with him again. I've been ready to see him. I've lived a life of all emotions. It was beautiful. The best part was loving myself after Don passed. I know he is happy seeing that. Love yourself and happiness will surround you."
Dolores passed away in her sleep October 14th. You believed her. You believed she reunited with Don. You made her happy. This was also the day you went home.
You thought about it the whole flight home. You're happy. You did something good for someone... you love yourself.
Two weeks later, on October 28th, you pass away in your sleep with a smile. You see your mom. She reaches out to hold your hand. You take hers and walk into the light.
"You did good, son. Happiness is all around you." | No one ever understood the letters I sent, many called me crazy. It wasn't unusual for raids on my house to take place, yellow lights being shined in my eyes as some fat detective loomed over my half asleep body, barking questions at my face, his dirty spit flying out with each mad bark. Yet I never did explain it to them, I was quite happy being crazy, because unlike most, There was a method to my madness, a method that had been fine tuned over the years.
"Why did you do it?" Would often be asked of me on a monthly bases, the flickering light of the interrogation room almost becoming enchanting to me at this point, even to the point that I was starting to understand why moths were drawn to the dancing light, there was something so... freeing about it all... yet thats when their fist would slam against the table, they often did try to play nice, but found themselves quickly angered by my dreamlike nature. Of course all they ever had were the letters... and as my lawyer stated, coincidence isn't guilt. My letter read as follows.
Dear Misses Rodgers,
I have heard about your recent crimes and your now less then stellar living conditions, I am sorry to hear about that. The media present you as a monster, But I see you more as a freespirit, A women that did those crimes not out of malice but to show the world a new viewpoint of life. Murder is the freeing of a soul and you are our God. I was hoping we could write? Get to know one another.
Your friend,
Tom Masters.
Of course listing her crimes would most likely be something that would get me banned from most news sites but to put it lightly, imagine the worst things you can think of, then add some mutilation into that. So the letters would flow back and forth until mysteriously she wouldn't write back for a week...
Its funny how easy it is to make friends with prisoners.
This trend would keep up for a few weeks or months, targeting the worst people and removing them. Of course, not everyone would take my bait and eventually my letters would stop getting relieved by prisons, yet I was up to about thirty dead now... maybe thirty three, it was hard to keep track of such things when your letters and belongings were constantly being confiscated.
When I grew up I thought it was a curse, watching friends drop until I was avoided, forced to retire to the library during lunches, as to not disturb the other children, yet.. it wasn't until my late twenties that I discovered how useful my abilities could be. I wish to expand the range of my righteous nature, yet its tricky with so many watching eyes on me, I fear that soon they may catch onto my ability or perhaps they will find ways to stop me from conducting my work... which is why my next steps are oh so important.
{If you enjoyed my story, Feel free to check out r/pmmeyabootysstories where ill be posting some more of my stuff for people to read} | |
[WP] For unknown reasons, you have a curse over your life. Whenever you become best friends with someone, they die within a week. You’ve made it your mission to become best friends with the worst people you can find. | My first dog, Trick, died three weeks after my parents brought him home. I think I became that little pup's best friend in an hour of us first playing. Took him a fortnight to win my friendship and heart quite as completely. To become my best friend.
A week later, Trick was dead. Vet wasn't sure what had happened. He frowned, scratched his beard, and said, "Must have had a bad heart." Trick didn't have a bad heart -- it was pure and perfect.
I was slower to get attached to our second puppy, that Dad brought home almost a year later. But that sandpaper tongue and bouncing tail won me over.
Again the vet scratched his beard. "Bad heart. Bad luck."
I knew that somehow I'd been responsible. Somehow I'd killed my two little best friends.
This was all but confirmed for me three years later, when I met Robert. Usually, since the dogs' deaths, I kept to myself. If I liked something, I figured, it died. So I spent recesses alone, never went to parties, never made a friend. Just... became alone. And it was easy 'cause kids thought me weird and aloof and were all too happy to avoid me.
Except for Robert.
And I never knew why. Just, he refused to *not* be my friend. One of those types of kids with an electric aura that you just wanted to be near.
"Come on! We'll play some computer games. I swear it'll be fun -- and if it's not then you can just go home."
He was so earnest and persistent that the ice encasing me cracked -- just a little.
Robert's head cracked a few weeks later. You'll maybe think it was because I'd become friends with him. And maybe that was why. But he'd not died of a 'bad heart' like my pups had. He'd been hit by a driver texting on his phone, as Robert walked home from school.
So maybe it was me. Or maybe it was this driver. Either way, I began to form a plan. A terrible, horrible plan that would change everything.
If, when the driver got out of jail (he'd been given less than a year), I befriended him... Became best friends. Then what had happened to Robert, to my dogs, would happen to him, too.
The driver's name was Michael. I turned up at his front door one cloudy afternoon, not long after he got out.
"Hey," he said. Face pale and drawn. He was tall, bald, and tattooed, and it was five in the evening and he was slobbing around in a long dressing-gown. Pathetic. "Can I help you, kid?"
I could hardly speak from rage but I had to swallow it down before I sputtered out something like: you killed my best friend and I hate you and I hope you die. Instead, for my plan to work, I somehow needed to reach the goodness within this asshole. If there was any.
"Hi," I said. "I wanted to say that um, that.... I forgive you," I lied. The toughest lie I'd ever told. "For hitting my friend."
That was my ticket in, I thought.
I didn't expect him to break down sobbing. A seed of guilt planted itself in my stomach.
"Come in," he said eventually, sniffing back tears. "I'll get you a drink."
I sat nervous in his kitchen as he poured me a coke. The table was covered in old photos of him and a woman and two kids. He'd been looking through his memories before I'd come.
"I can't tell you what it means," he said, serving himself a drink out of a clear bottle. There were more empty bottles around us. Littering the sides. "You coming. No one's said those words to me. No one."
"I just didn't want you feeling like it was all your fault. Accidents happen. This was just a big one."
And again the big man wept. "Yeah. It was. A really fucking big one. That poor fucking kid. Was he a good friend?"
"My best," I said.
He nodded, his wet eyes glimmered as they shot a look at the photos. "I'm so sorry." He paused then added, "My best friends have left me now. I can't pretend I know how it feels to lose someone the way you did -- because of an asshole like me. But I'm starting to understand loss."
I didn't want to go back the next day, to this stinking murderous alcoholic's house. But I forced myself to. For Robert.
The man was dressed today but his eyes were just as bloodshot. "You're back?" he said, a ghost of a smile on his lips.
"Thought you could use some company."
He nodded. "Yeah. Think I could. I was going to order takeout. Come on in and I'll get you something."
Every day for a month I forced myself over. Every day for a month, I learned a little more about the murderer. About how much he'd loved his own kids and his wife. How the pain of losing them was only soothed by alcohol and my visits. How the guilt of hitting Robert crushed him. That when he closed his eyes at night, he saw Robert's face. Or had nightmares of hitting his own kids instead.
And my own guilt, that seed in my stomach, had taken root. Was sprouting into something unexpected.
Maybe this guy didn't deserve to die.
The funny thing there was, after a month, he told me if it wasn't for my first visit, he'd be dead by now. He was certain of it. That I'd saved his life. Now, he'd given up drinking and was working on a way to see his kids once a week.
And I didn't feel bad about it. About saving him. 'Cause Robert had reached out to me, when I'd been somewhere alone and dark. I think in a way, Robert would have wanted this.
This man, Michael, wasn't my best friend, but he wasn't far from it. So I told him a last time I forgave him, and that I reckoned Robert did too. But that I couldn't visit so often now. He said he understood.
And that was it.
I became a nurse, a few years later. Found a better way use my gift.
There were terminal patients who needed me. Who had no one left in their life and were travelling slowly, lonely towards death.
I'd sit by their beds and listen to their stories, finally opening my heart up again. I could help them end it with a friend in their life.
They weren't lonely or scared.
And neither was I. | No one ever understood the letters I sent, many called me crazy. It wasn't unusual for raids on my house to take place, yellow lights being shined in my eyes as some fat detective loomed over my half asleep body, barking questions at my face, his dirty spit flying out with each mad bark. Yet I never did explain it to them, I was quite happy being crazy, because unlike most, There was a method to my madness, a method that had been fine tuned over the years.
"Why did you do it?" Would often be asked of me on a monthly bases, the flickering light of the interrogation room almost becoming enchanting to me at this point, even to the point that I was starting to understand why moths were drawn to the dancing light, there was something so... freeing about it all... yet thats when their fist would slam against the table, they often did try to play nice, but found themselves quickly angered by my dreamlike nature. Of course all they ever had were the letters... and as my lawyer stated, coincidence isn't guilt. My letter read as follows.
Dear Misses Rodgers,
I have heard about your recent crimes and your now less then stellar living conditions, I am sorry to hear about that. The media present you as a monster, But I see you more as a freespirit, A women that did those crimes not out of malice but to show the world a new viewpoint of life. Murder is the freeing of a soul and you are our God. I was hoping we could write? Get to know one another.
Your friend,
Tom Masters.
Of course listing her crimes would most likely be something that would get me banned from most news sites but to put it lightly, imagine the worst things you can think of, then add some mutilation into that. So the letters would flow back and forth until mysteriously she wouldn't write back for a week...
Its funny how easy it is to make friends with prisoners.
This trend would keep up for a few weeks or months, targeting the worst people and removing them. Of course, not everyone would take my bait and eventually my letters would stop getting relieved by prisons, yet I was up to about thirty dead now... maybe thirty three, it was hard to keep track of such things when your letters and belongings were constantly being confiscated.
When I grew up I thought it was a curse, watching friends drop until I was avoided, forced to retire to the library during lunches, as to not disturb the other children, yet.. it wasn't until my late twenties that I discovered how useful my abilities could be. I wish to expand the range of my righteous nature, yet its tricky with so many watching eyes on me, I fear that soon they may catch onto my ability or perhaps they will find ways to stop me from conducting my work... which is why my next steps are oh so important.
{If you enjoyed my story, Feel free to check out r/pmmeyabootysstories where ill be posting some more of my stuff for people to read} | |
[WP] The Demon King gathered his largest and most powerful army to invade the Human world. Countless Demons of all kinds were pouring out from portals to massacre the fragile and pitiful humans but little did they know they arrived at the wrong human world... modern Earth. | “What the fuck domeecius?!?” The demon general exclaimed in confusion as he ascended the skull and bones staircase protruding through the earth.
“The reports are accurate sir.” Domeecius assured as the two stood along with an army of confused demons and looked out at the chaos on the streets. “Violent crime was already out of control, and it’s no longer dished out solely by the impoverished. The rich plunder resources from the needy, even middle class humans are attacking each other over what leader should be in charge!”
“Shit. Well what about pollution. Surely we can do some damage there.” The general suggested.
“Actually sir, with education being ignored as an important foundational necessity by governments worldwide, people can’t even agree to not destroy the planet’s atmosphere. Carbon emissions are off the charts. Damn near irreversible.”
The general dragged his claw over his frustratedly furrowed forehead. “Anything else?” He sighed dejectedly.
Domeecius scanned his paperwork, mumbling to himself. “Let’s see... rape, child sex trafficking, rampant greed, lust, gluttony, wrath...” he looked up and closed his file. “With as busy as the human race has been destroying themselves, it’s even a surprise that sloth is already an epidemic as well. To be honest sir, it looks like our work was done before we even got here.”
The general let out a ghastly whistle and shouted to his demon troops “Pack it in you guys! These degenerates are fucking themselves more than we ever could.”
And as the other-worldly creatures slinked back into their hellscape, the human race continued on unaware towards a hell on earth of their own making. | "The portal opened wide, leading inside it was a bridge that looked like any normal bridge, but when we stepped out onto the ground on the other side the sky was not the one we had known.
"Stand ready for we shall wreak havoc upon these poor unfortunate mortals!" The demon king yelled to all of us. There were half a million of us Azeraks. The most powerful army our realm had ever seen in its history. We took-"
"Sorry for interrupting, what is an azerak?"
"Its a large demon-" it gestured at itself "with two horns and a arrow shaped tail, other than that we look like your normal human except we give off tremendous magical energy."
"Ah thank you, though I doubt very much about the energy part but anyway please continue"
The demon flexed his muscles in annoyance and released the most potent fear aura he could. Then the demon looked around and saw not even the slightest amount of fear. "Anyway we got ended up coming out onto this very large bridge-"
"You mean the golden gate bridge right?"
"Sure, anyway and we started our attack on building per normal and as we waited for the enduring screams, they all disappeared. Afterward these 7 beings walked onto the bridge and started screaming. Well on of them did anyway she was a small female humanoid looking thing. He face was so bright red I thought it would explode. She said her name was wrath and that we were on 'their' territory. The king started laughing, but she pulled a spear out of no where and killed him in one swipe, impaling his head on the end like he was a boar. No one was able to react, we all started trying to flee in fear as she started laughing and engaging in gleeful destruction of our kind. I jumped into the water to save myself and nearly died since fire and water dont mix. But I'm here today arent i?"
-interview with "The demon" a mad man who claims he is the sole survivor of an attempted demon invasion from another realm. Published in newspapers around the world.
---Thanks for reading. | |
[WP] The Demon King gathered his largest and most powerful army to invade the Human world. Countless Demons of all kinds were pouring out from portals to massacre the fragile and pitiful humans but little did they know they arrived at the wrong human world... modern Earth. | Zeraxos dropped to one knee before the black throne, bowing his head in deference.
"You may rise, Lord Zeraxos," came the voice of the Demon King, at once a booming cacophany and a barely-uttered whisper. At the voice's command, Zeraxos rose to his feet.
The throne room of the Demon King was, in a word, opulent. It bared a striking resemblance to a human cathedral, with sky-high ceilings and windows of stained glass. Yet certain features gave it away: the color palette, mostly orange and black; massive braziers burning high and hot; paintings and reliefs depicting eternal torment rather than holy salvation. And, at the back, sat the demon king's throne - a massive slab of black granite, so dark that it seemed to absorb the light around it. The figure seated upon it was equally massive, and always shrouded in shadow. It spoke again in the strange tongue.
"Tell me, Zeraxos, how fares the invasion?"
It wasn't like Zeraxos to be nervous - he was one of the Lords, after all. But this was something the Demon King had been planning for nearly two centuries now. Humans, in their folly, had been abandoning the teachings of their God in droves; with each that left the faith, the divine protection that their God granted the Earth weakened. The armies of Hell were mighty, and the Demon King had been certain that the conquest of the Earth would be swift.
"My Lord, our armies have launched on schedule and report widespread success at securing the territory immediately around the portals."
"Excellent. But I can sense your trepidation, Zeraxos. You know how displeased it makes me when you conceal things."
He couldn't help but swallow nervously. He hated bringing anything but good news before the King. "My lord. I have recieved preliminary reports from the front lines, and it seems that the humans aren't the same as they were 200 years ago."
The room rumbled and shook with laughter. "Of course they aren't. That is their way; to grow and change with time. But we prepared for this, don't you remember? That ingenious reagent they developed... Black powder. As useless against our hordes as their sharpest swords."
He swallowed again. "That's just it, my lord..."
\* \* \*
"Johnson, do you have that status report?" the general ordered. The man before him saluted.
"Yes, sir, General Montgomery," he replied sharply. Johnson's uniform was in top shape and perfectly pressed, Montgomery noted. "Salem is currently contested; troops from Fort Devens have formed a loose picket line with air support from Hanscom, but until reinforcements arrive, they're being steadily driven back. San Francisco is in similar straights; relief troops from San Diego are patching up the holes in the line, but a lot of civilians are trapped within the city. Local command anticipates at least two days before we can mount..."
"Dammit, that's not good enough," growled Montgomery. "Get that commander on the line, on the double. I want to know what's the hold-up. Safeguarding the civilian populace is our top priority."
Johnson saluted and turned sharply on his heel. As he left the room, Montgomery looked down at the table, sighing heavily. He wasn't the most pious of men; he was a Catholic, in theory, but he and his wife only attended service on Christmas, Thanksgiving, and Easter Sunday. He'd been sure to call up Father Edmund shortly after the invasion started.
After all, who do you consult about how best to combat an invasion from Hell?
As far as Montgomery was aware, portals much like the ones in Salem and San Francisco had cropped up in places all over the world. One of the eggheads in intelligence told him that they suspected the portals weren't random - they were appearing in places that had a haunted or evil reputation, where the veil between this world and the world below was thinnest. Montgomery wasn't sure if he bought it. But he was he was sure of one thing: the invasion force hadn't been expecting any resistance.
They'd charged suicidally against small pockets of national guardsmen, and were utterly torn apart. They tried again and again to break through shoddily constructed lines, only to be gunned down. It was like they had no understanding of tactics or strategy, instead relying upon numbers and brute strength. Had this happened 200 years ago it might well have worked.
Unforunately for the armies of Hell, humans had spent a lot of time perfecting and stockpiling bullets, shells, missles, bombs, and everything in between. If it was a race between the number of demons in hell and the amount of munitions on Earth, Montgomery was willing to bet that humanity had more than a fighting chance. | "The portal opened wide, leading inside it was a bridge that looked like any normal bridge, but when we stepped out onto the ground on the other side the sky was not the one we had known.
"Stand ready for we shall wreak havoc upon these poor unfortunate mortals!" The demon king yelled to all of us. There were half a million of us Azeraks. The most powerful army our realm had ever seen in its history. We took-"
"Sorry for interrupting, what is an azerak?"
"Its a large demon-" it gestured at itself "with two horns and a arrow shaped tail, other than that we look like your normal human except we give off tremendous magical energy."
"Ah thank you, though I doubt very much about the energy part but anyway please continue"
The demon flexed his muscles in annoyance and released the most potent fear aura he could. Then the demon looked around and saw not even the slightest amount of fear. "Anyway we got ended up coming out onto this very large bridge-"
"You mean the golden gate bridge right?"
"Sure, anyway and we started our attack on building per normal and as we waited for the enduring screams, they all disappeared. Afterward these 7 beings walked onto the bridge and started screaming. Well on of them did anyway she was a small female humanoid looking thing. He face was so bright red I thought it would explode. She said her name was wrath and that we were on 'their' territory. The king started laughing, but she pulled a spear out of no where and killed him in one swipe, impaling his head on the end like he was a boar. No one was able to react, we all started trying to flee in fear as she started laughing and engaging in gleeful destruction of our kind. I jumped into the water to save myself and nearly died since fire and water dont mix. But I'm here today arent i?"
-interview with "The demon" a mad man who claims he is the sole survivor of an attempted demon invasion from another realm. Published in newspapers around the world.
---Thanks for reading. | |
[WP] The Demon King gathered his largest and most powerful army to invade the Human world. Countless Demons of all kinds were pouring out from portals to massacre the fragile and pitiful humans but little did they know they arrived at the wrong human world... modern Earth. | Zeraxos dropped to one knee before the black throne, bowing his head in deference.
"You may rise, Lord Zeraxos," came the voice of the Demon King, at once a booming cacophany and a barely-uttered whisper. At the voice's command, Zeraxos rose to his feet.
The throne room of the Demon King was, in a word, opulent. It bared a striking resemblance to a human cathedral, with sky-high ceilings and windows of stained glass. Yet certain features gave it away: the color palette, mostly orange and black; massive braziers burning high and hot; paintings and reliefs depicting eternal torment rather than holy salvation. And, at the back, sat the demon king's throne - a massive slab of black granite, so dark that it seemed to absorb the light around it. The figure seated upon it was equally massive, and always shrouded in shadow. It spoke again in the strange tongue.
"Tell me, Zeraxos, how fares the invasion?"
It wasn't like Zeraxos to be nervous - he was one of the Lords, after all. But this was something the Demon King had been planning for nearly two centuries now. Humans, in their folly, had been abandoning the teachings of their God in droves; with each that left the faith, the divine protection that their God granted the Earth weakened. The armies of Hell were mighty, and the Demon King had been certain that the conquest of the Earth would be swift.
"My Lord, our armies have launched on schedule and report widespread success at securing the territory immediately around the portals."
"Excellent. But I can sense your trepidation, Zeraxos. You know how displeased it makes me when you conceal things."
He couldn't help but swallow nervously. He hated bringing anything but good news before the King. "My lord. I have recieved preliminary reports from the front lines, and it seems that the humans aren't the same as they were 200 years ago."
The room rumbled and shook with laughter. "Of course they aren't. That is their way; to grow and change with time. But we prepared for this, don't you remember? That ingenious reagent they developed... Black powder. As useless against our hordes as their sharpest swords."
He swallowed again. "That's just it, my lord..."
\* \* \*
"Johnson, do you have that status report?" the general ordered. The man before him saluted.
"Yes, sir, General Montgomery," he replied sharply. Johnson's uniform was in top shape and perfectly pressed, Montgomery noted. "Salem is currently contested; troops from Fort Devens have formed a loose picket line with air support from Hanscom, but until reinforcements arrive, they're being steadily driven back. San Francisco is in similar straights; relief troops from San Diego are patching up the holes in the line, but a lot of civilians are trapped within the city. Local command anticipates at least two days before we can mount..."
"Dammit, that's not good enough," growled Montgomery. "Get that commander on the line, on the double. I want to know what's the hold-up. Safeguarding the civilian populace is our top priority."
Johnson saluted and turned sharply on his heel. As he left the room, Montgomery looked down at the table, sighing heavily. He wasn't the most pious of men; he was a Catholic, in theory, but he and his wife only attended service on Christmas, Thanksgiving, and Easter Sunday. He'd been sure to call up Father Edmund shortly after the invasion started.
After all, who do you consult about how best to combat an invasion from Hell?
As far as Montgomery was aware, portals much like the ones in Salem and San Francisco had cropped up in places all over the world. One of the eggheads in intelligence told him that they suspected the portals weren't random - they were appearing in places that had a haunted or evil reputation, where the veil between this world and the world below was thinnest. Montgomery wasn't sure if he bought it. But he was he was sure of one thing: the invasion force hadn't been expecting any resistance.
They'd charged suicidally against small pockets of national guardsmen, and were utterly torn apart. They tried again and again to break through shoddily constructed lines, only to be gunned down. It was like they had no understanding of tactics or strategy, instead relying upon numbers and brute strength. Had this happened 200 years ago it might well have worked.
Unforunately for the armies of Hell, humans had spent a lot of time perfecting and stockpiling bullets, shells, missles, bombs, and everything in between. If it was a race between the number of demons in hell and the amount of munitions on Earth, Montgomery was willing to bet that humanity had more than a fighting chance. | “What the fuck domeecius?!?” The demon general exclaimed in confusion as he ascended the skull and bones staircase protruding through the earth.
“The reports are accurate sir.” Domeecius assured as the two stood along with an army of confused demons and looked out at the chaos on the streets. “Violent crime was already out of control, and it’s no longer dished out solely by the impoverished. The rich plunder resources from the needy, even middle class humans are attacking each other over what leader should be in charge!”
“Shit. Well what about pollution. Surely we can do some damage there.” The general suggested.
“Actually sir, with education being ignored as an important foundational necessity by governments worldwide, people can’t even agree to not destroy the planet’s atmosphere. Carbon emissions are off the charts. Damn near irreversible.”
The general dragged his claw over his frustratedly furrowed forehead. “Anything else?” He sighed dejectedly.
Domeecius scanned his paperwork, mumbling to himself. “Let’s see... rape, child sex trafficking, rampant greed, lust, gluttony, wrath...” he looked up and closed his file. “With as busy as the human race has been destroying themselves, it’s even a surprise that sloth is already an epidemic as well. To be honest sir, it looks like our work was done before we even got here.”
The general let out a ghastly whistle and shouted to his demon troops “Pack it in you guys! These degenerates are fucking themselves more than we ever could.”
And as the other-worldly creatures slinked back into their hellscape, the human race continued on unaware towards a hell on earth of their own making. | |
[WP] You’re a hero who’s teaming up with a villain to beat a bigger threat. Since you both fear betrayal, you agree to meet at neutral territory to plan. You expected a seedy bar run by an ex vigilante, not a cute cafe run by an elderly civilian woman. | Michael Kingsmoth looks down at the address on his holopad, before looking back up at the place before him. 'Mrs. Higglesworth's Tea Emporium ' was emblazoned on the side of the building in cursive blue lettering. The place is only two stories tall, with soft, pale white and gold trimmings on a faded red brick building. Moss grows up one side. A large tree casts a shade over the building, shielding it from the harsh rays of the summer day. Michael looks down at the address again before shaking his head and approaching the building.
​
The door jingles open. The Dark Empress sits inside, sipping tea from an expensive looking set of china glassware. She crosses her leather bound legs, sizing up the man who just entered. Michael Kingsmoth, bounty hunter extraordinaire and goodie-two shoes of the galaxy. She snorts and leans back in her seat as he approaches. "Michael," she says in a smooth, silky voice.
​
"Empress." He responds in a hard tone. They stare each other down, before he sits at the table. "I didn't expect this."
​
"Neither did I," she responds. She jerks her head at the approaching woman. "She suggested the meeting place."
​
Michael turns to see the aforementioned woman, Mrs. Higglesworth. She is small woman. Her back hunched over from years of labor, her hands gnarled by arthritis. She pushes up her glasses with a finger, before smiling warmly at the pair. "Ah! Hello dearies. I suppose it's time to get this meeting started, eh?"
​
She shuffles up into a chair between them. She pours herself a cup of steaming tea before nodding at the two of them. The Empress shrugs and turns to Michael. "Listen. I think we all know what's at stake. If we don't stop Tyr we're all..." She stops and looks at Mrs. Higglesworth. "In trouble."
​
"Oh, deary I don't mind. Speak your mind around me." Before she can continue, a commotion outside draws her attention. She hops off the chair and shuffles over to the window. Outside several men in black suits approach the building with guns drawn. Michael and the Empress hop out of their chairs and rush to the window. "I see some people don't respect neutrality."
​
"Shit." Michael swears and pulls out his holopad. He taps away as the Empress works at her own devices. "I can get back up here in 15 minutes."
​
"Mine will show up in 10. But I didn't bring any weapons. Did you?" She looks over at Michael. He shakes his head and she swears. "Fuck... The one time I try to do something right..."
​
They are interrupted by the door opening and Mrs. Higglesworth striding outside. "That's far enough gentlemen. This is neutral territory. If you come further, I'm not responsible for what happens." The dark suited men bark a laugh before continuing. Mrs. Higglesworth shakes her head and presses a button in her pocket. XK-Class automated machine turrets slide out of the windows on the second floor. The lasers light up the group of men, tearing them to shreds. Those that turn to flee are met with large, lumbering half human, half mutant creatures bound in metal exo-skeletons who crush the few thugs that remain.
​
Michael and the Empress stare slackjawed. "Well...Shit..." They respond in unison. | The location was suspicious. It was bright and spacious with little room for cover or concealment. The majority of it was open to the air, lacking even glass to separate the outside from the inside. Bright flowers and colors drew the eye instead of dark shadows to conceal and hide. There were no sour scents of spilled beer or strong spirits, no lingering fog of fried foods and grease. Pleasantly acrid smells warred with the sweetness that sugar and honey brought. The floor within and without was clean and recently swept, no traces of debris or wreckage. The place looked pleasant, inviting, and warm. Incredibly suspicious.
The man looked at the person beside him, eyebrow raised and eyes narrowed. “I thought you said this place could be trusted.”
The woman gave a helpless shrug. “It can be. I’m told it’s a very good neutral place for deal making and the like. Some colleagues and acquaintances told me about it.”
He pointed a finger at the pleasantly offending place. “Really. You’re telling me people like you and people like me came here of all places to have reasonable, non-hostile discourse.”
“It looks nice enough for it doesn’t it?”
“It looks like a trap, or an excellent place to obtain information to be blackmailed.”
The woman sighed. “You’re as uptight now as your persona. Well we’re already here and I’m not going anywhere else so we might as well get this over with.” She stomped off, not looking back to see if he followed.
After a few moments he followed reluctantly, eyes darting back and forth at the few patrons that sat at the cafe. He tried to see if he could recognize anyone, to see features normally hidden or obscured. However a presence before him made him stop, especially when the presence coughed slightly.
His eyes widened as he looked at her. She was far shorter than him, barely coming up to his chest. Much older, hair fading to silver-grey with a rare strand of copper red mixed in. Lined features spoke of hard lessons and a long life. Her eyes sparkled however, possessing a youth and energy that was not completely shared with her body but once could see echoes of past vigor. She coughed again and the man looked at her with confusion. “I beg your pardon ma’am?”
She smiled sweetly, an expression of good cheer and hidden meaning. “Now young man, people come here to relax and talk, not to be gawked at.” She dared to wiggle a finger at him and his face reddened in reply. “Customers here are entitled to their privacy and I’ll thank you to respect theirs as much as they respect yours.” She took his arm and her grip was stronger than iron. “Come along dear, I have just the place for you and your friend.”
“She’s not my friend-“ he sputtered. He felt gravely out of his element, almost wrong footed mentally as much as physically since the little old woman was practically dragging him. He tried to ignore his mounting embarrassment and the obvious enjoyment written cleanly on his companion’s face. “Do you treat all your customers like this?” he asked crossly before being pushed firmly into a chair.
“Only the first timers my dear.” The woman laughed heartily, a rich sound. She held open the opposite chair for the other woman who sat with far more grace. “Everyone who comes for the first time just has to learn how the cafe runs is all. Don’t take any offense. Now you two can have your conversation and I’ll bring over some refreshments in a jiffy.”
“That was a real treat,” the woman whispered with the smuggest smile. “The great and mighty Sirius dragged around like a puppy by a sweet old woman. Whatever I lose in our exchange will be well worth that.”
Sirius glared at her. “If you’re not careful the terrible Phoenix will lose a lot and be trapped in a songbird’s cage for a long time.” He smirked at her growl. “I do not wish to be here longer than necessary so let us get this over with.”
“Fine by me,” Phoenix retorted.
The pair spoke in whispered tones, mindful of others that sat far enough away for decorum yet still close enough to overhear. It took a lot for the hero and the villain to even contemplate working together, much less actually work together. However the situation was dire enough where the pair knew that only together would they survive.
Sirius looked up and his eyes locked onto the eyes of another. His eyes narrowed and starlight began to glow along his hands.
Phoenix’s eyes opened wide with alarm. “What’s your problem?”
“That’s Noctus. I recognize his light anywhere. I always swore to-“ Sirius tried to rise but a recently familiar iron handed touch forced him back into his seat. He grunted with displeasure, then hissed as hand touched the piping hot kettle. He waved his hand in the air to cool it, the starlight fading away.
“Well do be careful good sir!” the old woman chirped, a wide smile on her face as she set the kettle down onto the table. “If you suddenly get up and wave your hand around like that you’ll accidentally brush up against something you shouldn’t.” She ignored his snarl, pouring out a measure of steaming tea. “Now I imagine you’re used to hot things darling,” she said and laughed at Phoenix’s blush. “Even then you be careful now, hot tea is always hotter than people think it is.”
“You....know who we are?” Sirius’ confusion replaced his displeasure.
“That I do, and that’s also why I know a little tea won’t burn one like you,” she replied easily. She set a tray of cookies and sandwiches before them. “Strapping young man like yourself won’t be bothered by something so slight. I do know you’re new here but there’s a sign to help you learn.”
The pair turned their heads in the direction of her pointing. Upon the wall in plain sight sat a beautifully hand embroidered placard. The fabric was creamy white, a flourish of flowers painstakingly sewn around the edges in yellow, pink and blue. The words were sewn with royal purple thread, clear and clean and easy to read. Sirius’ eyebrows rose as he read them. “The Cafe is Recognized as Neutral Territory.”
“Yes sir it is. No fighting here that don’t involve me.” The old woman’s eyes glinted and her smile sharpened. “And trust me, you don’t want to fight me.”
“Oh?” If his eyebrows rose any higher they would have disappeared into his hair.
“Because that means you would be fighting an old woman and who wants that reputation?” She shrieked with laughter and many of the other patrons joined in. “You two take your time now you hear?”
“We didn’t order these though,” Phoenix said shyly.
“Oh I have an eye for what folks want. Just trust me and enjoy.” The old woman continued to walk, chatting with every customer she passed.
Sirius took a sip of the tea, flavors of orange and black tea leaves coated his tongue. The sandwich was a BLT, the bacon crisp and chewy at the same time. Sun warmed tomato tasted fresher than anything he had ever had before, against ice cold lettuce and creamy mayo. He chewed slowly before swallowing, chasing the morsel with another sip of tea. “No, I do not think I would enjoy fighting her.” | |
[WP] You’re a hero who’s teaming up with a villain to beat a bigger threat. Since you both fear betrayal, you agree to meet at neutral territory to plan. You expected a seedy bar run by an ex vigilante, not a cute cafe run by an elderly civilian woman. | Michael Kingsmoth looks down at the address on his holopad, before looking back up at the place before him. 'Mrs. Higglesworth's Tea Emporium ' was emblazoned on the side of the building in cursive blue lettering. The place is only two stories tall, with soft, pale white and gold trimmings on a faded red brick building. Moss grows up one side. A large tree casts a shade over the building, shielding it from the harsh rays of the summer day. Michael looks down at the address again before shaking his head and approaching the building.
​
The door jingles open. The Dark Empress sits inside, sipping tea from an expensive looking set of china glassware. She crosses her leather bound legs, sizing up the man who just entered. Michael Kingsmoth, bounty hunter extraordinaire and goodie-two shoes of the galaxy. She snorts and leans back in her seat as he approaches. "Michael," she says in a smooth, silky voice.
​
"Empress." He responds in a hard tone. They stare each other down, before he sits at the table. "I didn't expect this."
​
"Neither did I," she responds. She jerks her head at the approaching woman. "She suggested the meeting place."
​
Michael turns to see the aforementioned woman, Mrs. Higglesworth. She is small woman. Her back hunched over from years of labor, her hands gnarled by arthritis. She pushes up her glasses with a finger, before smiling warmly at the pair. "Ah! Hello dearies. I suppose it's time to get this meeting started, eh?"
​
She shuffles up into a chair between them. She pours herself a cup of steaming tea before nodding at the two of them. The Empress shrugs and turns to Michael. "Listen. I think we all know what's at stake. If we don't stop Tyr we're all..." She stops and looks at Mrs. Higglesworth. "In trouble."
​
"Oh, deary I don't mind. Speak your mind around me." Before she can continue, a commotion outside draws her attention. She hops off the chair and shuffles over to the window. Outside several men in black suits approach the building with guns drawn. Michael and the Empress hop out of their chairs and rush to the window. "I see some people don't respect neutrality."
​
"Shit." Michael swears and pulls out his holopad. He taps away as the Empress works at her own devices. "I can get back up here in 15 minutes."
​
"Mine will show up in 10. But I didn't bring any weapons. Did you?" She looks over at Michael. He shakes his head and she swears. "Fuck... The one time I try to do something right..."
​
They are interrupted by the door opening and Mrs. Higglesworth striding outside. "That's far enough gentlemen. This is neutral territory. If you come further, I'm not responsible for what happens." The dark suited men bark a laugh before continuing. Mrs. Higglesworth shakes her head and presses a button in her pocket. XK-Class automated machine turrets slide out of the windows on the second floor. The lasers light up the group of men, tearing them to shreds. Those that turn to flee are met with large, lumbering half human, half mutant creatures bound in metal exo-skeletons who crush the few thugs that remain.
​
Michael and the Empress stare slackjawed. "Well...Shit..." They respond in unison. | I gulped nervously as the sweet-looking old lady rushed to greet me at the door.
“A new face? Wonderful! Come in, come in” She waved me into the warmly lit cafe with a motion that seemed fairly rehearsed.
She took my jacket, leaving me feeling even more disarmed than before. Not that I had a weapon in it; the Hornet and I had agreed to meet unarmed and out of costume. *A bit of an odd choice for a mad bug thief.* I thought.
I stuffed down the concern as I allowed myself to be ferried to a corner booth. This was bigger than our usual spats over whether or not she was going to walk away with the contents of a bank vault. No, her meddling in insect communication had woken what she called SWARM and now it was speeding across the cosmos to Earth. I reminded myself that she contacted me, a move made entirely out of desperation even if the request was made with her normal arrogance.
“Something to drink, deary?” The old lady asked, keeping a pleasant tone but readying herself to attend the next table at a moment's notice.
“Uhhhhh coffee, please. Black as coal, strong as steel.” She gave a charming smile, then moved with a speed that would exhaust someone a third her age. *How long have you been doing this?* I wondered.
As I waited, I took a moment to study the cafe in better detail. Everything about it screamed kitch. Cuckoo clocks and novelty plates adorned the walls, accompanied by the occasional mounted trophy.
What few patrons were here looked fairly worn down and out of place. In the corner sat a withered man writing on what looked like a marble tablet. At the bar sat a body-builder type enjoying a grilled muffin. His enthusiasm would have sold me on one if my stomach had not been in knots over this meeting. One table over was a very out of place woman studying the local paper. Her eyes narrowed and glowed like cigarettes as she read with an intensity I’ve only seen once before. *Is that the Emerald Spectre?*
I looked away before she caught me staring and was greeted by the hostess. With deft hands, she set the coffee down in front of me. It made waves as it hit the table.
“Thanks,” I said. She smiled again, then dashed back to the kitchen, bringing out another muffin for Mr. Muscles.
I took a sip. A punch in the mouth, just like I like it. I fought the urge to gulp it down, but it was a lost battle. The kindly lady replaced the cup as quickly as the last one.
Before too long a short, blond woman entered the cafe. She had a familiar arrogance to her, and it didn’t take long for me to realize it was the Hornet.
You know that awkward feeling you get when you meet your boss or a close coworker outside of work? That was nothing compared to seeing my arch-nemesis in a navy blue power suit and heels. She looked like she was going to a job interview, not meeting to plan how to save the world.
Looking around, she saw me. In an instant her face went from indifference, to surprise, to enraged, to arrogance. I wondered if she was going to monologue before we started planning, if she had a plan, or if this was an elaborate trap. After all, she picked the meeting spot.
She walked to my both and stood glaring at me. I suppose I should have stood and greeted her to be polite, but frankly, this was her mess and I wasn’t feeling high on courtesy right now.
“Moth Man”
“Hornet” I took another sip of coffee and contemplated throwing it at her. *Professional, be professional.*
I heard her inhale deeply. Oh God, she was going to monologue.
“Oh, how fate can cruel sometimes.” She began. “That I, despite my nearly limitless resources and genius, must ask you of all the forces in the city for help. Curse the hand of fate that brought me here today, curse this city for not recognizing my brilliance, and curse you!”
Man, this really was good coffee.
“I’m not here to listen to you prattle for the hundredth time Hornet. We have a world to save, and if what you said was true the SWARM doesn’t care who you curse. ”
“How dare you mock the great Hornet!” She stabbed at me with her finger. “You should be honored to work alongside one such as me. I am the ult-”
“Your regular, dear” The spritely old lady set another mug down at my table.
“Thank you… Gamgam” She said, trying to keep pride in her voice. I snorted and she shot a hostile look at me.
‘Gamgam’ refilled my drink. “Oh if you don’t mind me saying, it seems like you two have a lot to cover. If I can help in any way you let me know.”
“Thanks, Gamgam” the Hornet actually kissed the old lady on the forehead. She smiled warmly and shot back to the kitchen like a bullet.
Hornet glared back at me, two hostile blue eyes met my amused grin. “So…” I began but paused for her to speak.
Her glare eventually melted when she realized I wasn’t going to continue without an explanation. “You’re sitting in the best-kept secret in all of villaindom. Gamgam has probably stopped more crimes with her kind words and pastries than all of the accomplishments of the Supernetwork.”
“Not exactly neutral then. Also, you expect me to believe a city full of petty thieves and psychopaths respect the rules enough to listen to an old lady?”
She squinted. “You don’t know the oldest code in the book? Even the baddest villain in the Guild loves Gamgam.”
We looked over to see the burly man eating another muffin. He paused to hug the old lady before continuing.
She intoned “You see that guy there, he can lift a tank. Robs banks a city over. Gamgam asked him to tone it down when he was hitting it big and he did. Now, he only robs banks every other month.”
“Beetle Bologna,” I said in disbelief.
She shook her head, looking annoyed. “Believe what you want, but there’s no safer place in town than Gamgam’s cafe. Anyone ever misbehaves here and they have a country’s worth of villains after them.”
Gamgam bolted out of the kitchen again, her impressive speed now appearing more super-human than ever. She carried an iced drink to the lady behind us. The onyx-haired woman mirrored the Hornet’s kiss on the forehead.
I was a bit dumbfounded. “So-uh, is she evil?” The Hornet closed her eyes and pressed her fingers to her temples. “Can we just get to the SWARM already? I don’t want your mothy smell to taint where I get my lattes.” | |
[WP] In a world of superpowers, the reality is different from fantasy. Speedsters get friction burn, the super strong regularly tear ligaments and mind readers go insane from the stream of information. As a doctor, you’ve been helping Supers for years; all the while hiding your own power, and a plan | In this world of supers someone has to help them keep on their top game thats where i come in. I am a super doctor and this is the srory of how i became the greatest doctor ever.
"And done!" I said relieved at the success of another successful appointment. "Rest that leg for at least two days and you should be good to go." I said to the young man in front of me.
"Sure thing doc." He said grabbing the crutches by his side and walking out.
I rubbed my temples and took a deep breath. "Mary send in my next patient." I called to the young lady sitting at the front desk.
"Sure thing doctor. Mrs would you follow me please."
A set of footsteps could be heard coming my way and in the door walked a tall blonde woman with a very nice red suit.
"What seems to be the problem today?" I ask as usual.
"Well nothing we cant fix easily. I just want to ask you a few questions."
"Im sorry if this isnt injury related i need you to leave i have patients missing arms."
"No no hang on a minute and listen to me. I have a proposition for you doctor. One you'll find, Interesting."
"Now i really need you to leave can this wait i have a man who needs surgery."
"Would you like to know in advance how many people you need to take care of, or be able to heal them from a distance? How about a set of tools you can summon and use at will."
"Ma'am im a normal man i dont have powers and i dont need them now please lea..."
I couldnt finish my sentence before my headache caused a blackout.
I came to with an extreme sense of deja vu
*must be the drugs.* I thought to myself
"So youre awake."
I looked over to see the woman who was talking nonsense and i almost buzzed for the nurse when she said so.ething that made me stop
"You know, I never really got exactly why people wanted powers untill I saw how useful they are.
Even still i have to admit my *power* is of little use in this society. Would you like to know what it is doctor?"
I sat for a moment before calmly replying. "I have nothing else to do so sure."
"My power is called _-gifting-_ it allows me to give anyone any power they wish but every time I use it I become closer to being unable to use it. I made a decision to only use it for people who are trying to do good in this world that is why I sought you out. I feel it is fair to give you the man who is healed the most supers of his own free will the ability of your dreams. However in exchange I would like you to use it only for good."
" and what if I'm happy with having no powers?"
"Doctor no one is happy being different and I am simply trying to help you become different and yet the same." | Atom Man and I were close, I mean, we grew up together. When I was 18 I married his sister, who was in my graduating class of high school. College was rough on the both of us, what with our secret super powers. Try tacking on college debt and medical school for the both of us. It sucked. I can still remember fighting over credit card payments and tuition payments.
There were a couple of times that we got so mad we accidentally used our super powers, not on each other, but on the house accidentally. My secret powers are invisibility and telekenesis. My wife shoots lightning from her fingers and flies. When I came home one day after my second year of med school I could tell she was completely angst about something. I of course asked.
"I tried to hot wire the battery today with my fingers," she began, "and I fried the engine."
I was not as humble as I am these days and said the first thing that came to me.
"Oh, well, cut your fingers off next time before you screw it up." I blurted.
"Excuse me?" She said.
"Yeah, that would save us some trouble." And so began an intimacy fast for three months.
"What?!" She stammered.
"I'm gonna eat dinner, and then I'm taking a look at the damage." I continued
"Shut the f\*\*\* up and leave me alone. It's not like I haven't done it before." She defended
"Well there's a confession..." I said.
"You know what!?" She fired at me.
"What?!"I shouted back.
In an instant I felt a flash of heat fly past my head and into the family photos on the wall. Burning my whole side of the family tree on the wall. When I told the story to Atom Man (who was my brother-in-law) he just laughed and told me about a similar instance where he and his sister were arguing about who would have the car over the weekend. He was my best bud.
He was a part of a hero guild called the Famous five. Xathrax the Reptilian, Mercy Mae the Tech genius, Ray-diation (who has the ability to manipulate fire), and Marcus X the Voudou mage were his heroic assistance. He was their founding leader...And they killed him.
How could they do that to my best friend?
I got a call from the Department of Defense saying that he was disorientated, bound with modified reptilian cords, torn apart, and set on fire. None of his partners were ever found.
At his funeral my wife sobbed and I barely got through delivering the eulogy. If I hadn't have been in a tux I would have been completely invisible most of that day, my heart was broken. He had the best black, shiny coffin. I won't ever forget it.
The turn of events made me harder, I felt after a while that the heroes I knew were all hypocrites and liars. My wife ended up leaving me for another hero. She took everything.
Dr. Zeta is no more, and Dr. Insidious reigns. Hail the silence... Hail the unknown... I choose the path of least resistance. | |
[WP] Alien life was discovered centuries ago and though they are advance they live relatively short lives (25-35 years). You ask your alien friend why he thinks humans live so long. He laughs and says it's because humans run at half power. You laugh back but he stops and says "No you really do." | "No you really do."
"What seriously bro?"
"Yes human, none of the other species in the universe do what you Terrans know as sleep. We have been studying your species for a while now and the Earth's daily system cycles make your energy recharging system incredibly inefficient. You sleep, about 1/3 of your day and spend a good hour waking up and falling asleep, hasn't that ever struck you as strange."
"Well umm..." I wanted to respond but then I remembered I had never seen Gruglock the deflier sleep, like ever. And he was alway energetic and focused to boot. Not to mention he ate only once a week and very little at that. Small salad with a large chunk of meat. According to Hyberians, eating meat was a necessity for higher functioning beings, the vegans and vegetarians didn't take that one very well.
"So we need sleep because of the the Earth and the Sun?"
"In part yes, but mostly because of your atmosphere. The beings on this planet are the only ones we have met that constantly need to breathe due to the low energy in your atmosphere. The constant breathing taxes your nervous system and sleep is required to rejuvenate it but the lack of oxygen in your systems cause you to hallucinate during this recovery period, you call them dreams. It is also why you take so long to recover from wounds, birth, illnesses and are susceptible to various germs. It's also the cause of your lower, cognitive thinking and why it takes your kind so long to reach sexual maturity. By our estimates, if humans had an average energy transfer through respiration, your cognitive function would effectively quintuple at the very least. Most other species in the galaxy take one energy inspiration every 65 to 600 hours and it gives us all we need and more. "
"Well damn bro, i don't know how to respond to that."
"Worry not human, we are used to it by now. In fact we are most impressed with your species ability to thrive with such little energy in your brains."
"Gee thanks." | 31st December, 2786
23:34 PM
Dear Diary,
Man, I never expected this day to end on such a bad note. It was all going so good, but Quixon just HAD to say that and I just HAD to be offended. Dumbos, that's what we both are. Oh wait, I gotta give some context to you.
So... I mentioned in yesterday's entry that me and Quixon had plans to spend the last day of the year together, right? So everything was going alright. We met up at the Elara bar, bitched about our work, played billiards for a bit (he won yet again, fuck his third-eye), and after chugging some good Martian beer, he broke-down. He has still not moved on from Gloxinia! Can you imagine? It has been 2 fucking years! I have dated three girls (one being his own sister at that!) since his breakup, but he is still just somehow fixated on that lass. Well, you know how it goes though, right? I lent my ears to him, yet again, and wasted 3 good hours over his crying & wailing. As I was regretting my decision of meeting up with him, the weekly Elara stand-up act started. And luckily, this week was Freddie's turn at the mic, Quixon's favorite.
The next hour went absolutely fine, with Quixon drinking and laughing as I sighed in relief over his improving state. As the act finished, Quixon was looking cheerful as hell, and he said, "Bro, let's go for a drive, man. Let's see one of those supernova-simulations. You like those, right?" And I was like, "Yeah, let's go, I guess." Honestly, I was still a bit salty over his 3 hour long cry-show. And it showed in my emotionless reply.
Well, then we both got filtered by the bartender, because Mr. Quixon wanted to drive. I swear, I don't know what is up with his affection to driving. Why can't he just let the car do the job? "Well, whatever", I thought as we hopped into his T-Hexa, activated our headsets, and after exactly a minute (or two hours if we go by our headsets) we reached the nearest simulation park. We watched the simulation, which was a pretty good experience watching with 20K other people rather than 20, the stadium looks good when the seats are filled.
After the show, we both wandered in the park for a minute or two when he asked me about my recent breakup. Honestly, I never expected him to be concerned about my love-life, so it was a bit surprising. Well, I told him that it was a mutual decision between me and Sarzia, and I am currently not looking for any more heartbreaks so I am refraining from asking out anyone. We both then began joking and sometimes, bitching about our love-lives. And then somehow we landed onto me and Quixie. We both joked about how I was dumped by his beloved sister and I was getting roasted by the both of us. And suddenly he said, "Well, it was alright, in my opinion. She wouldn't have lived with you for long anyway." I replied, "Well, love happens, man. Sarzia's parents were a mixed couple, remember? Her mother married again after almost a decade of her father's death, but ultimately, everyone was happy, including her father right to his last moments."
The atmosphere became a bit heavy, so I tried to initiate a joke. "Why do us humans live for so long anyway? You flezards have got it good, living and dying at the prime of your health. While we humans have to..." "It's because humans work at half the capacity of their brains.", Quixon interrupted me. I tried to pass it as a joke by having a laugh but his face became dead-serious and he said, "No, you all really do work at half your capacity. It's science, bro."
Now listen. We both are fucking idiots, hence, we both like passing specist jokes at each other. But it's always in good taste and we both have fun over such jokes. But his blunt interruption followed by an even more blunt reply was just, not good. I yelled at him. Called him names. Said some really mean things, and stormed out of there. He just stood there, expressionless. Was he regretting what he said? Or was he cursing me back inside his head?
Now that I am home and I checked up my mental state, the mentalizer diagnosed that it was not a rational action on my part. It was actually a result of built-up frustration and stress from my breakup, and the evening cry-show by Quixon added to that pent-up stress, with that "joke" being the tipping point. Man, I fucked up big time. I really need to talk to him tomorrow, I really don't want things to get awkward between us.
Oh and Happy New Year, it's 12:30 AM right now. Damn, this entry turned out really long, didn't it? Well, whatever.
Good night.
-- Richmond | |
[WP] Alien life was discovered centuries ago and though they are advance they live relatively short lives (25-35 years). You ask your alien friend why he thinks humans live so long. He laughs and says it's because humans run at half power. You laugh back but he stops and says "No you really do." | "Master?"
"Yes, Patrick."
"Why do you think humans live so long?"
Jeb laughed, exposing sharp, serrated teeth. "You humans only run at half mast, I'm afraid. It makes perfect sense that you'd last longer, wouldn't it?"
"I suppose, master."
Jeb grew quiet. He stared at his man-servant for a long moment. "You know that flight or fight response you primates have?"
"Yes sir."
"That's your control system."
"How?"
"It's all about adrenaline. My species has total control of it. It gives us great physical power and abilities. But in return, we rarely make into our forties. You're lucky."
"Well, I've been your slave for fifty-five years, and have wished for death long since. We all have our burdens, master."
Jebarius Re'Artor, Third Marshall of the Wind Weaver, nodded solemnly. "Yes, so it is. I am sorry if you do not agree with your lot in life. But you are still alive. We value life above all, human. If it was not so decreed from the Weaver herself that you humans would live until natural death, we would have exterminated you when we first arrived two hundred years ago."
"Your mercy is my life, master. So it is and so it shall be. More wine?"
Jeb gestured toward his glass. "If you would. I have a terrible problem."
"May I be of assistance?"
"Possibly. We are running into a population issue, I'm afraid. There are eleven billion of you on this planet. Too many mouths, as it were. We cannot kill you, but we cannot feed you. Should we just let you starve? What to do with you all?"
"Well sir, if I may. I have spent many a night thinking about this very thing. It's a simple solution. Let us leave."
"Leave?"
"Yes master. Give us your ships, so that we may take to the heavens. Many of us have wished for death. In this way we rise to heaven anyway. We gain our freedom and you have less mouths to feed. Everyone wins."
"Again, you provide such excellent wisdom. Send word to her majesty at once. I request an audience."
"Yes, master. Right away."
\----------
Thanks for reading! | 31st December, 2786
23:34 PM
Dear Diary,
Man, I never expected this day to end on such a bad note. It was all going so good, but Quixon just HAD to say that and I just HAD to be offended. Dumbos, that's what we both are. Oh wait, I gotta give some context to you.
So... I mentioned in yesterday's entry that me and Quixon had plans to spend the last day of the year together, right? So everything was going alright. We met up at the Elara bar, bitched about our work, played billiards for a bit (he won yet again, fuck his third-eye), and after chugging some good Martian beer, he broke-down. He has still not moved on from Gloxinia! Can you imagine? It has been 2 fucking years! I have dated three girls (one being his own sister at that!) since his breakup, but he is still just somehow fixated on that lass. Well, you know how it goes though, right? I lent my ears to him, yet again, and wasted 3 good hours over his crying & wailing. As I was regretting my decision of meeting up with him, the weekly Elara stand-up act started. And luckily, this week was Freddie's turn at the mic, Quixon's favorite.
The next hour went absolutely fine, with Quixon drinking and laughing as I sighed in relief over his improving state. As the act finished, Quixon was looking cheerful as hell, and he said, "Bro, let's go for a drive, man. Let's see one of those supernova-simulations. You like those, right?" And I was like, "Yeah, let's go, I guess." Honestly, I was still a bit salty over his 3 hour long cry-show. And it showed in my emotionless reply.
Well, then we both got filtered by the bartender, because Mr. Quixon wanted to drive. I swear, I don't know what is up with his affection to driving. Why can't he just let the car do the job? "Well, whatever", I thought as we hopped into his T-Hexa, activated our headsets, and after exactly a minute (or two hours if we go by our headsets) we reached the nearest simulation park. We watched the simulation, which was a pretty good experience watching with 20K other people rather than 20, the stadium looks good when the seats are filled.
After the show, we both wandered in the park for a minute or two when he asked me about my recent breakup. Honestly, I never expected him to be concerned about my love-life, so it was a bit surprising. Well, I told him that it was a mutual decision between me and Sarzia, and I am currently not looking for any more heartbreaks so I am refraining from asking out anyone. We both then began joking and sometimes, bitching about our love-lives. And then somehow we landed onto me and Quixie. We both joked about how I was dumped by his beloved sister and I was getting roasted by the both of us. And suddenly he said, "Well, it was alright, in my opinion. She wouldn't have lived with you for long anyway." I replied, "Well, love happens, man. Sarzia's parents were a mixed couple, remember? Her mother married again after almost a decade of her father's death, but ultimately, everyone was happy, including her father right to his last moments."
The atmosphere became a bit heavy, so I tried to initiate a joke. "Why do us humans live for so long anyway? You flezards have got it good, living and dying at the prime of your health. While we humans have to..." "It's because humans work at half the capacity of their brains.", Quixon interrupted me. I tried to pass it as a joke by having a laugh but his face became dead-serious and he said, "No, you all really do work at half your capacity. It's science, bro."
Now listen. We both are fucking idiots, hence, we both like passing specist jokes at each other. But it's always in good taste and we both have fun over such jokes. But his blunt interruption followed by an even more blunt reply was just, not good. I yelled at him. Called him names. Said some really mean things, and stormed out of there. He just stood there, expressionless. Was he regretting what he said? Or was he cursing me back inside his head?
Now that I am home and I checked up my mental state, the mentalizer diagnosed that it was not a rational action on my part. It was actually a result of built-up frustration and stress from my breakup, and the evening cry-show by Quixon added to that pent-up stress, with that "joke" being the tipping point. Man, I fucked up big time. I really need to talk to him tomorrow, I really don't want things to get awkward between us.
Oh and Happy New Year, it's 12:30 AM right now. Damn, this entry turned out really long, didn't it? Well, whatever.
Good night.
-- Richmond | |
[WP] Alien life was discovered centuries ago and though they are advance they live relatively short lives (25-35 years). You ask your alien friend why he thinks humans live so long. He laughs and says it's because humans run at half power. You laugh back but he stops and says "No you really do." | "No you really do."
"What seriously bro?"
"Yes human, none of the other species in the universe do what you Terrans know as sleep. We have been studying your species for a while now and the Earth's daily system cycles make your energy recharging system incredibly inefficient. You sleep, about 1/3 of your day and spend a good hour waking up and falling asleep, hasn't that ever struck you as strange."
"Well umm..." I wanted to respond but then I remembered I had never seen Gruglock the deflier sleep, like ever. And he was alway energetic and focused to boot. Not to mention he ate only once a week and very little at that. Small salad with a large chunk of meat. According to Hyberians, eating meat was a necessity for higher functioning beings, the vegans and vegetarians didn't take that one very well.
"So we need sleep because of the the Earth and the Sun?"
"In part yes, but mostly because of your atmosphere. The beings on this planet are the only ones we have met that constantly need to breathe due to the low energy in your atmosphere. The constant breathing taxes your nervous system and sleep is required to rejuvenate it but the lack of oxygen in your systems cause you to hallucinate during this recovery period, you call them dreams. It is also why you take so long to recover from wounds, birth, illnesses and are susceptible to various germs. It's also the cause of your lower, cognitive thinking and why it takes your kind so long to reach sexual maturity. By our estimates, if humans had an average energy transfer through respiration, your cognitive function would effectively quintuple at the very least. Most other species in the galaxy take one energy inspiration every 65 to 600 hours and it gives us all we need and more. "
"Well damn bro, i don't know how to respond to that."
"Worry not human, we are used to it by now. In fact we are most impressed with your species ability to thrive with such little energy in your brains."
"Gee thanks." | **We do?**
Did I stutter? It's not my fault I have four mouths.
**You do? Oh, I didn't notice. I don't really see those kinds of things.**
Blah blah blah. Look, just because I have six tentacles instead of legs and genitalia--
**Again, I never said that.**
Come on, man. We aliens got it all figured out years ago. It's in our holiest of books.
**What, like your bible?**
Yeah, our bible. It's kind of like yours. If you go back and read that old, old testament stuff, there's folks who lived for about 900 years, like Methusala.
**Gross.**
And how! Well, what with evolution being a thing as well as the bible--
**Wait, they're... both real? Apes into humans, and Adam and Eve, and Jesus, and the ice age--**
Yes, and aliens! As much as I'd love to weave the two together for you, I'd rather get to the point. We're getting better at getting the most out of our lives in the shortest amount of time. Again, Methusala. Almost 1000 years old. Your Uncle Ernie is, what, 73?
**Aw, man, Uncle Ernie sucks**
Right. So we are squeezing the life force down, like coal into a diamond. We live to be 35, 40 tops. What good happens after 40?
**You got me there.**
This is why we are the superior race. So suck it.
(fade to black) | |
[WP] Alien life was discovered centuries ago and though they are advance they live relatively short lives (25-35 years). You ask your alien friend why he thinks humans live so long. He laughs and says it's because humans run at half power. You laugh back but he stops and says "No you really do." | "Master?"
"Yes, Patrick."
"Why do you think humans live so long?"
Jeb laughed, exposing sharp, serrated teeth. "You humans only run at half mast, I'm afraid. It makes perfect sense that you'd last longer, wouldn't it?"
"I suppose, master."
Jeb grew quiet. He stared at his man-servant for a long moment. "You know that flight or fight response you primates have?"
"Yes sir."
"That's your control system."
"How?"
"It's all about adrenaline. My species has total control of it. It gives us great physical power and abilities. But in return, we rarely make into our forties. You're lucky."
"Well, I've been your slave for fifty-five years, and have wished for death long since. We all have our burdens, master."
Jebarius Re'Artor, Third Marshall of the Wind Weaver, nodded solemnly. "Yes, so it is. I am sorry if you do not agree with your lot in life. But you are still alive. We value life above all, human. If it was not so decreed from the Weaver herself that you humans would live until natural death, we would have exterminated you when we first arrived two hundred years ago."
"Your mercy is my life, master. So it is and so it shall be. More wine?"
Jeb gestured toward his glass. "If you would. I have a terrible problem."
"May I be of assistance?"
"Possibly. We are running into a population issue, I'm afraid. There are eleven billion of you on this planet. Too many mouths, as it were. We cannot kill you, but we cannot feed you. Should we just let you starve? What to do with you all?"
"Well sir, if I may. I have spent many a night thinking about this very thing. It's a simple solution. Let us leave."
"Leave?"
"Yes master. Give us your ships, so that we may take to the heavens. Many of us have wished for death. In this way we rise to heaven anyway. We gain our freedom and you have less mouths to feed. Everyone wins."
"Again, you provide such excellent wisdom. Send word to her majesty at once. I request an audience."
"Yes, master. Right away."
\----------
Thanks for reading! | **We do?**
Did I stutter? It's not my fault I have four mouths.
**You do? Oh, I didn't notice. I don't really see those kinds of things.**
Blah blah blah. Look, just because I have six tentacles instead of legs and genitalia--
**Again, I never said that.**
Come on, man. We aliens got it all figured out years ago. It's in our holiest of books.
**What, like your bible?**
Yeah, our bible. It's kind of like yours. If you go back and read that old, old testament stuff, there's folks who lived for about 900 years, like Methusala.
**Gross.**
And how! Well, what with evolution being a thing as well as the bible--
**Wait, they're... both real? Apes into humans, and Adam and Eve, and Jesus, and the ice age--**
Yes, and aliens! As much as I'd love to weave the two together for you, I'd rather get to the point. We're getting better at getting the most out of our lives in the shortest amount of time. Again, Methusala. Almost 1000 years old. Your Uncle Ernie is, what, 73?
**Aw, man, Uncle Ernie sucks**
Right. So we are squeezing the life force down, like coal into a diamond. We live to be 35, 40 tops. What good happens after 40?
**You got me there.**
This is why we are the superior race. So suck it.
(fade to black) | |
[WP] Alien life was discovered centuries ago and though they are advance they live relatively short lives (25-35 years). You ask your alien friend why he thinks humans live so long. He laughs and says it's because humans run at half power. You laugh back but he stops and says "No you really do." | "Allow me to explain," Xylus said as their suit would hiss momentarily. The chest would open up slightly as a small amount of their body would reach out to the tablet left on the table. Even though Jason has been hanging out with Xylus for about 5 years now the dark black, an almost mist-like substance that made up the majority of their body still through them for a loop. The mist would interface with the tablet as a picture of the human body would display on the screen.
"Think of the human body similar to an electrical generator. With a single spark and some fuel, the generator will spring to life and generate all the electricity necessary for day to day functions. So long as you're fueled you will continue to generate until the generator finally burns out." As they spoke the screen would replicate their explanation. Jason would just watch patiently as he sipped away at his beer. After all, he was interested in where this would go.
"But, you humans run on what your kind would call 'Power-Saving Mode'. This makes sense with particularly frail races that require additional time to reproduce, but in the case of humans, it's no longer a need but a desire. It makes sense given the level of 'entertainment' that floats about on the web." The tablet would start to switch over to the internet but Jason knew better and snatched the tablet away.
"Alright alright, I get it. What I don't understand though is how we would go about turning it off, to begin with. I know it's not eating a lot, we just get fat." Jason said as he tucked the tablet away and would watch as Xylus slinked their body back into their suit.
"Obviously. You don't make a generator run faster by adding more fuel. You just have to turn up the dial is all. For my kind it's easy as we're all mind and mist," Xylus said as they'd move their suits' arm to tap the glass of their helmet, "But for humans? You have all sorts of meat you have to worry about. Not only that but your bodies are inherently flawed in that they randomly mutate both negatively and beneficially. And lets not even begin to talk about all the sociopolitical nuances you deal with on the regular."
Xylus' suit would sag into their seat as the majority of their mist collected into the suit's chest, "It's why we don't blame your kind in the least."
They would both sit in silence as Jason thought about what Xylus had just said. All the while the ambient sounds of the bar would wash over the both of them as a reminder that they weren't alone. It wouldn't take long for Jason to come to his conclusion and put his half-empty beer on the table.
"Xylus... Do you think you could teach me? How to turn up the dial that is." Jason said while he looked as his beer.
The mist would redistribute in the suit as Xylus propped an elbow on the table and rested his helmet in his hand, "No. As I said my friend, my kind are mind and mist. I could only teach you how to think, not how to apply." Jason's shoulders would droop in a clear sign of disappointment. Xylus raised his other arm and dropped it on Jason's shoulder with a healthy grip," However, I may know someone who could teach you the rest. If this is the path you seek, then drink up friend. There's a reason your kind dies sooner once they learn the truth." | **We do?**
Did I stutter? It's not my fault I have four mouths.
**You do? Oh, I didn't notice. I don't really see those kinds of things.**
Blah blah blah. Look, just because I have six tentacles instead of legs and genitalia--
**Again, I never said that.**
Come on, man. We aliens got it all figured out years ago. It's in our holiest of books.
**What, like your bible?**
Yeah, our bible. It's kind of like yours. If you go back and read that old, old testament stuff, there's folks who lived for about 900 years, like Methusala.
**Gross.**
And how! Well, what with evolution being a thing as well as the bible--
**Wait, they're... both real? Apes into humans, and Adam and Eve, and Jesus, and the ice age--**
Yes, and aliens! As much as I'd love to weave the two together for you, I'd rather get to the point. We're getting better at getting the most out of our lives in the shortest amount of time. Again, Methusala. Almost 1000 years old. Your Uncle Ernie is, what, 73?
**Aw, man, Uncle Ernie sucks**
Right. So we are squeezing the life force down, like coal into a diamond. We live to be 35, 40 tops. What good happens after 40?
**You got me there.**
This is why we are the superior race. So suck it.
(fade to black) |
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