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[WP] A story about why pairing a pretty princess with high explosives is probably not the best idea.
|
The plan of the fanatics could no have gone any better, Snipers took out the guards while men next to the road ambushed the car. A truck pulled along side the limousine and pulled the princess into one truck and the U.S. Senator into another. After the men cleared the area the crop duster dropped the home made bombs onto the convoy eliminating evidence of the kidnapping and allowing the fanatics to gain the head start they wanted.
The princess sat between the two men in the truck on the dusty road in Montana. "So I have a question for you gentlemen." She looked at the men on either side of her and glanced at the four armed with rifles and an RPG in the bed of the truck. "What do I do with this?" She said as she lifted a grenade from under her shirt and the spoon flew away.
**\*\*\*\*\* Five years earlier \*\*\*\*\***
"So I pull this pin.... \*Click\* and throw it towards what I want to explode?" Princess Erin said holding the armed grenade in her hand.
"Yes." The soldier said trying to keep his nervousness in check. The Princess softly tossed the grenade over the entrenchment and knelled down, plugging her ears. The grenade exploded and shook the ground around them.
"Ooh that was fun!" She giggled as she grabbed another grenade and repeated the action, throwing the explosive further than this time. "Ha. This is great!" She laughed as she repeated the exercise with two more grenades at the same time.
"Princess, that's enough grenades. Would you like to see the rest of the training grounds?" The Sgt. suggested, motioning towards the vehicles.
**\*\*\*\*\* Today \*\*\*\*\***
The driver at least had the sense to at least slow the vehicle down before jumping out, the passenger didn't wait and bailed immediately. The grenade flew through the back window as she layed down in the seat and covered her ears. The grenade exploded in the back and she waited two seconds to get control of the truck and bring it to a stop.
Turning in the seat she grabs the RPG in the back and aims it at the truck behind her.
**\*\*\*\*\* Five years earlier \*\*\*\*\***
"Yes please. Could we do some more training with these explosives. Ooh I want to fire a missile!" She exclaimed. The soldiers looked around nervously hoping this wouldn't be a mistake but they took her around to train with the equipment. Artillery wasn't as fun for her until she was shown Time on Target barrage which excited her enough to cheer like a teenager, but firing one of the anti-tank missiles almost brought her to an hysterical giggle. With each high explosive she trained with that day the soldiers could see a spark of life come to her eyes and the wall of restraint fall away.
At the end of the day the restraint fell back into place as she thanked the soldiers for the demonstration of their equipment. The effects of the training would not show for some time after.
\*\*\*\*\* Today \*\*\*\*\*
The truck behind her came to a stop as the men bailed out leaving the senator alone inside. "Idiots." She said as she climbed out of the drivers seat, kicking the driver in the head and taking his pistol from him.
One man, screamed at the others not to shoot her because of how valuable she was. Pulling the pin from the nose of the RPG she fires it at the truck at the third truck before tossing another grenade in the ditch where several of the men were crouched down. Climbing into the drivers seat of the second truck she pulls out of the convoy and away from her kidnappers.
"How... where did you learn to do that?" The Senator asked her in shocked disbelief.
"Oh, just a hobby I picked up a few years back."
|
All her life, Princess Yanny had only known luxury. How to look pretty, how to preen herself in the most alluring way to suitors, how to be the perfect wife to an unknown prince or king. That was until the day the explosives showed up.
Stashed neatly in a nondescript wooden crate, with a simple word "DANGER" labelled on it, no one in the kingdom could make sense of the crate's contents. Nobody had a clue of why, of all places, the crate landed in the princess' chambers. The generals instantly suspected an assassination plot, while the court spy realised it could never be this simple. Yanny's father, that greying yet powerful man the kingdom knelt to, ordered the crate taken away, to be investigated by a secret cabal of scientists on the outskirts of the country's borders and in the back pages of its payroll. However, while the box was gingerly loaded onto a carriage for the journey, none of the guards questioned the princess' decision to board the carriage too. How could they? The only man who could question that decision was in the throne room.
Once she was on the outskirts, Yanny instantly felt the dirt. Not merely the dirt beneath her sparkly pink shoes, but also the dirt in the male scientists' ogling her, and the dirt in the ugly glares that the female scientists threw her. She was not welcome here, and if she was to be honest with herself, she didn't exactly know what was going on. But who could claim to know? She was determined to know, at least.
And as she spent more time with the scientists, Yanny lived, ate, slept, worked as they did. Sure, she did accidentally drop a torch on one small stick taken from the crate, which promptly exploded, leaving everyone's ears ringing and her face covered with soot. The laughter from everyone in the room was more unnerving than the loud kaboom to Yanny, who had been taught all her life that being laughed at was a disgrace, but slowly she learned to laugh with them, instead of thinking they were laughing at her. And as her formerly pink dress gradually dulled to a homely light brown with days of grime and mud, Yanny's knowledge - not merely of explosives but also of who she was merely told were her subjects - grew. She knew not to disrupt the older gentlemen before their morning drink, she knew not to talk too much to the women who were at that time of the month, and she knew to not take the immature declarations of love from the younger men in the laboratory too seriously, among other things. No longer was she a mere prop, but an actively contributing member of this little enclave.
By the time a royal detachment reached the border of the country, they did not find a princess. Indeed, pairing up a princess with high explosives was not the best idea, but it was still a pretty damn good one. The woman who boarded the carriage back to the palace now held the secrets to the crate, and was ready to convince her father to continue the good work of her newfound colleagues in the pursuit of knowledge.
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[WP] You knew the Council hates you, but that’s too far. As a companion for your quest, they chose a goblin found and captured in the city’s sewer system, and you became the laughingstock of the kingdom. We’ll see who gets the last laugh, you grumble to yourself.
|
I looked down on my official "companion". Lean and wiry, he glared back up at me. I'd heard he'd been caught in the city sewers, part of a pack that had slipped in recently. He certainly smelled like it. Damp rags were wrapped around his feet, even more soiled than the scrap of cloth he kept tugging back up to cover his torso. It might have been a human-sized tunic once, but it was so ripped and threadbare now it served more as a rough toga.
"Tell me you at least understand my language, goblin. If I can't give you orders, I might as well kill you now and save myself a headache." He redirected his glare to the sword on my belt when I said "kill", so he knew at least a few words, even if he didn't speak. A brusk nod was his only response, but his glare dropped a notch from outright hate to sullen. His hands twitched and he readjusted his cloth for the tenth time. "That's good. Keep doing as your told and I won't have to hurt you. You got a name?" I let him stare at me a moment, then hooked a thumb towards my chest. "Dorn."
He finally snarled something that might have been a name, or maybe a curse. Hard to tell, though either way it was in the guttural tongue goblins seemed to share with their hobgoblin kin. I sighed. It was going to be a long trip. "Okay, 'Snarl' it is then. You and I are going on an adventure. And you ain't going like that." I motioned at his wardrobe and he took a half step back. "No, no, I'm not gonna hit you if I don't have to. In fact, I'm gonna give you something. Couple of somethings. First one's called a 'bath'."
Fortunately, I had a house in the city I owned proper. Back when the council didn't hate my guts, I did pretty well for myself. I wasn't too happy about having a filthy goblin mucking up my floors, but it was better than trying to drag the thing into a public bathhouse. Supposing they'd even me in the door with him. Enough people knew about it already anyway, no need to help spread the gossip. I don't think the little guy knew why I was making him carry buckets of water across the house, at first. Maybe he thought I was making an enormous stew. Or maybe he thought humans just did stupid things for stupid reasons. Either way, the look of surprise when I tossed him in the tub rags and all was almost worth the embarrassment of walking a goblin down the street.
"You'd better stay in that tub if you know what's good for you." The sputtering, indignant look I received when he surfaced made it hard to keep a stern look on my face. I had to remind myself this was a dangerous creature. Nearly intelligent, and cunning enough to get into a well-guarded border city in the first place. "That's a scrub brush. This is soap. Rub the soap on the brush, then use it on yourself. Don't eat the soap. And take off those rags, I'll find you something less...disgusting." I kept an eye on the tub as I rummaged through a pile of clothes I'd been meaning to stitch up. Beady eyes stared back from just over the edge. I found an old tunic and a pair of pants missing most of a leg. Still had the scar from that. I pulled a stool over to the tub, close enough to prevent an escape, and pulled out my kit. Just because he was a goblin didn't mean he shouldn't have pants that would stay on.
"You're luckier than you know. Someone hates me more than they hate thieving goblins. I couldn't turn down the council's choice, either, after demanding a companion for this mission." I was sure I was wasting my breath, but kept talking anyway. Been a while since I'd been able to rant a little, and he wasn't complaining. He was drinking out of the tub. "Stop that! If the soap doesn't make you sick, that filth you've rinsed off will!" The goblin flinched, looked up at me, and then sneezed out a bubble half the size of his head. I couldn't keep a straight face. I laughed, and kept laughing. Snarl lifted one side of his mouth. I think it was a half-hearted attempt at a smile, but it came across as nervous and a little shaky. He didn't know what was funny, and he was stuck, naked, in a tub of cold water across from someone he had to consider an enemy at best. My mirth subsided, and I realized I'd done all I could with the now cut down pants and shirt. "Alright, guess you can get out of there now." I stood, reaching for a towel from the rack nearest the tub. "Dry yourself off." He took it hesitantly, then started trying to wear the blasted thing. "No, that's...you should do this." I mimed drying off as best I could, and probably looked like a fool, but he did get the gist. He even got out of the tub to do it, though the tail end of the towel was dragged through the water when he did.
The clothes, thankfully, didn't need explanation. Snarl didn't seem particularly stupid, for a goblin. Just ignorant. Maybe this quest won't be so bad. I put aside thoughts of a goblin "trap-springer" for now, and actually considered what I might be able to teach him on the way. I told him about the old temple, and the cultists, and the sacrifices. Just the general shape of things, as I didn't want to confuse him. And I wasn't really sure just how much he was picking up anyway. Surprisingly, he was well-behaved and attentive the whole time I packed, and didn't even try to run off after we were outside the walls and on the dirt path into the wilderness. When we made camp for the night, I did of course tie him to a tree. I'm not crazy enough to trust a goblin within strangling distance. "If you hear anything out there, wake me up. I can't untie you in the morning if I'm dead. Got it?" He nodded.
I was just drifting off on the far side of the small fire when Snarl surprised me with, "Night, Dorn." Well hell.
|
"Jaya, thank you for seeing us on such short notice," the councilor intoned, not bothering to look up as he waved a hand at an empty chair. The hall, if it could be called that, was cramped and musty, tucked away in a distant corner of the bustling castle. A half dozen minor lords, tunics heavy with self important patterns, sat around the table, pale, uncalloused hands clasped or fiddling with half empty goblets. The secrecy, almost embarrassment of contacting the barbarian woman from the wastelands to the south was nothing new. What was new was the princess, leaning back confidently in a chair at the head of the table.
Ignoring the offered chair, Jaya leaned on her axe and raised an eyebrow, urging the councilor to continue and ignoring the young woman lounging in a soft blue dress that was carefully contoured to her body. Princess Katherine's hands were soft too - well, maybe a little calloused, with draw fingers on her right hand rubbed raw from too many arrows. Jaya shifted the furs cloaking her to even them out, unperturbed by the noblewoman's gaze.
"We're aware that this mission that we're assigning to you is going to be slightly more difficult than what you're used to handling, especially given your, uh, deficiencies..."
The last words were mumbled as Jaya fixed a dark glare on the man. To his credit, he managed to recover after a gulp of wine and a glance at the princess.
"Ah, you're being tasked with negotiating a trade deal with the dwarven kingdom. Of course, complex negotiations and written contracts are... outside of your area of expertise? and we will be providing you with a companion to accomplish it."
Jaya brightened up immediately. "Excellent. It would be nice to see Tristan again, it seems he's always busy when I'm back in the city."
"Oh, dear, I'm so sorry."
Jaya's blood boiled as she turned to face the smug princess, condescension dripping from her words as she leaned over the table. "Unfortunately, *Sir* Tristan is going to be too busy with the upcoming hunt and festivities, no, we're going to need to find you someone else."
Setting her jaw, refusing to let the woman get to her, Jaya addressed the council members. "No problem, Shmendrick then."
"Ooooh, drat, I should have remembered that you used to run with those guys. They're also out..."
Jaya's knuckles whitened against the axe handle.
"But," the princess continued brightly (too brightly), "We do have a new companion for you!"
She clapped her hands, and a small door was shoved open roughly, squealing in protests, as two heavily armoured men dragged a ragged and bound green figure into the room, dropping the bruised and disoriented goblin onto the dirty tiles. The smell of rotting meat and shit filled the room, causing considerable discomfort among the councilors, and even the princess had to shut her stupid mouth to avoid tasting it on the air.
"Well, here you are, meet Ryya! She'll be sure to help you secure that mithril contract! Just don't let her loose, she's a bit of a biter I hear."
The nobles tried to stand and make their retreat.
"Hang on," Jaya interrupted. "I have a few questions, about this land's laws, and my reward, of course. Would it be possible for a knight to marry above his station, say, to a princess?"
A fat, balding man rubbed his nose irritably. "Technically, yes, knights are nobility, if only barely, and can legally marry other nobles. But the court would never stand for some lowly knight to marry Princess Katherine.
"Obviously," Katherine added, enthusiastically. "But," she added, perking up, "knights would never marry down either, they'd find themselves a *lady*."
"Hmmm," Jaya said, ignoring the barb to fix her attention on the head councilor. "And, if I were to pull of a favourable deal, I've accomplished enough for the king to grant me some small amount of land, haven't I?"
"Excellent!" the barbarian announced, raising her axe. "I'll see you at that feast, won't be but few days, *Katie*."
"Come on, Ryya!" Jaya called, grabbing the goblin's chain. "We've got our work cut out for us."
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[WP] You knew the Council hates you, but that’s too far. As a companion for your quest, they chose a goblin found and captured in the city’s sewer system, and you became the laughingstock of the kingdom. We’ll see who gets the last laugh, you grumble to yourself.
|
I looked down on my official "companion". Lean and wiry, he glared back up at me. I'd heard he'd been caught in the city sewers, part of a pack that had slipped in recently. He certainly smelled like it. Damp rags were wrapped around his feet, even more soiled than the scrap of cloth he kept tugging back up to cover his torso. It might have been a human-sized tunic once, but it was so ripped and threadbare now it served more as a rough toga.
"Tell me you at least understand my language, goblin. If I can't give you orders, I might as well kill you now and save myself a headache." He redirected his glare to the sword on my belt when I said "kill", so he knew at least a few words, even if he didn't speak. A brusk nod was his only response, but his glare dropped a notch from outright hate to sullen. His hands twitched and he readjusted his cloth for the tenth time. "That's good. Keep doing as your told and I won't have to hurt you. You got a name?" I let him stare at me a moment, then hooked a thumb towards my chest. "Dorn."
He finally snarled something that might have been a name, or maybe a curse. Hard to tell, though either way it was in the guttural tongue goblins seemed to share with their hobgoblin kin. I sighed. It was going to be a long trip. "Okay, 'Snarl' it is then. You and I are going on an adventure. And you ain't going like that." I motioned at his wardrobe and he took a half step back. "No, no, I'm not gonna hit you if I don't have to. In fact, I'm gonna give you something. Couple of somethings. First one's called a 'bath'."
Fortunately, I had a house in the city I owned proper. Back when the council didn't hate my guts, I did pretty well for myself. I wasn't too happy about having a filthy goblin mucking up my floors, but it was better than trying to drag the thing into a public bathhouse. Supposing they'd even me in the door with him. Enough people knew about it already anyway, no need to help spread the gossip. I don't think the little guy knew why I was making him carry buckets of water across the house, at first. Maybe he thought I was making an enormous stew. Or maybe he thought humans just did stupid things for stupid reasons. Either way, the look of surprise when I tossed him in the tub rags and all was almost worth the embarrassment of walking a goblin down the street.
"You'd better stay in that tub if you know what's good for you." The sputtering, indignant look I received when he surfaced made it hard to keep a stern look on my face. I had to remind myself this was a dangerous creature. Nearly intelligent, and cunning enough to get into a well-guarded border city in the first place. "That's a scrub brush. This is soap. Rub the soap on the brush, then use it on yourself. Don't eat the soap. And take off those rags, I'll find you something less...disgusting." I kept an eye on the tub as I rummaged through a pile of clothes I'd been meaning to stitch up. Beady eyes stared back from just over the edge. I found an old tunic and a pair of pants missing most of a leg. Still had the scar from that. I pulled a stool over to the tub, close enough to prevent an escape, and pulled out my kit. Just because he was a goblin didn't mean he shouldn't have pants that would stay on.
"You're luckier than you know. Someone hates me more than they hate thieving goblins. I couldn't turn down the council's choice, either, after demanding a companion for this mission." I was sure I was wasting my breath, but kept talking anyway. Been a while since I'd been able to rant a little, and he wasn't complaining. He was drinking out of the tub. "Stop that! If the soap doesn't make you sick, that filth you've rinsed off will!" The goblin flinched, looked up at me, and then sneezed out a bubble half the size of his head. I couldn't keep a straight face. I laughed, and kept laughing. Snarl lifted one side of his mouth. I think it was a half-hearted attempt at a smile, but it came across as nervous and a little shaky. He didn't know what was funny, and he was stuck, naked, in a tub of cold water across from someone he had to consider an enemy at best. My mirth subsided, and I realized I'd done all I could with the now cut down pants and shirt. "Alright, guess you can get out of there now." I stood, reaching for a towel from the rack nearest the tub. "Dry yourself off." He took it hesitantly, then started trying to wear the blasted thing. "No, that's...you should do this." I mimed drying off as best I could, and probably looked like a fool, but he did get the gist. He even got out of the tub to do it, though the tail end of the towel was dragged through the water when he did.
The clothes, thankfully, didn't need explanation. Snarl didn't seem particularly stupid, for a goblin. Just ignorant. Maybe this quest won't be so bad. I put aside thoughts of a goblin "trap-springer" for now, and actually considered what I might be able to teach him on the way. I told him about the old temple, and the cultists, and the sacrifices. Just the general shape of things, as I didn't want to confuse him. And I wasn't really sure just how much he was picking up anyway. Surprisingly, he was well-behaved and attentive the whole time I packed, and didn't even try to run off after we were outside the walls and on the dirt path into the wilderness. When we made camp for the night, I did of course tie him to a tree. I'm not crazy enough to trust a goblin within strangling distance. "If you hear anything out there, wake me up. I can't untie you in the morning if I'm dead. Got it?" He nodded.
I was just drifting off on the far side of the small fire when Snarl surprised me with, "Night, Dorn." Well hell.
|
"The council chairman presents you with a goblin, bound and gagged."
"Is he smiling?"
"Huge shit eating grin."
"Hmm.... How much do they hate me and why?"
"Make a perception check"
"Ok..."
*1D20 clatters on the table*
"That's a 14, which plus modifiers is a.... 17!"
"Ok. You can clearly tell that they hate your guts and want you to fail the bounty quest. You have an inkling of an idea that it might have to do with the pompus kid at the village gate that you knocked out."
"Ok... How sneakily can I cast polymorph?"
"Ohhh boy.... Make a stealth check"
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[WP] Monsters are real, but their strengths and weaknesses are based on what humans believe. They’ve started using media to change their and others abilities..
|
We gave them the fangs they use to eat the bad children at night. We gave them the glowing red eyes that glimmer in the dark. We gave them the shroud of fear with our own fear. We *fed* their power until they became real.
Every word and sentence writes a certain code in the database of the universe, rewriting things to change to match what we want to believe. We called them spirits, fairies, gods, demons, and monsters, begging for their forgiveness and told tales of their great powers and feats.
And that was our folly.
With tales of old and stories of child-like imagination, thrashing beasts of terror had risen from the depths. Eldritch horrors had risen (blame Lovecraft on that one), and god-like demons had opened their eyes.
Our kingdom and reign of the planet was over. We were no longer the predators of this world. And so our own tales began, recording our endeavors against the ancient horrors and terrifying monsters we had birthed.
Of course, we as humans were filled with arrogance, and we glorified our tales. More and more, we told the tales like stories from fantasy books; lies to fulfill some sort of empty hunger for a sense of strength.
And before we knew it, we had the powers we gave ourselves. We *had* all of the abilities and feats the storytellers told the children.
That's when we were all reminded.
We were monsters too.
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"\[WP\] Vampires are immortal beings with the ability to charm humans, changing their minds, or even enthralling them entirely. For millennia, they have only communicated face-to-face, but one of them has just discovered Reddit..."
\-There we go. This was a good idea, now we just have to wait and watch their imaginations run wild.
\*Okay. Who else should we send it to?
\-Dad, this isn't email, it's social media. Everyone can see it.
\*Everyone? Wait, no, no, no, we agreed one person at a time. What if they find out we're vampires?
\-Nobody will find out, this account is a throwaway anyway. It's all anonymous. I made sure this account is untraceable.
\*Oh. Wait, I'm in correspondence with quite a few companies online, how are they supposed to send me coupons and investment opportunities?
\-Dad, no, this is different. Like, remember how I showed you email and Facebook are different, and that neither of them are Internet Explorer?
\*Don't use that tone with me. You know, when all this technology stuff was new, I was really good at it. I even helped with the very first telephone exchanges. So I know how the enternet works at the most basic level. Kids these days don't even know how a lot of that stuff works, they just do their programs and logarithms and-
\-Algorithms. And it's Internet with an I. Are you getting . . . less Internet-literate?
\*I'm old, not stupid. You-
\-That's not what I meant. Oh, no. Look. The first story's just been posted. It . . . portrays a vampire as . . . really terrible with modern computers. Maybe this was a bad idea.
\*Well, that's just one story. You said it wouldn't have that big an effect unless a lot of people saw it.
\-I think it's that special case you were telling me about. If humans haven't given much thought to a particular aspect of a Fae creature, the first time it's thought about or communicated to others has an exaggerated effect. It should correct once more stories contradict the ideas, unless, they confirm them instead.
\*I knew this was a bad idea. I told you-
\-Just wait. It may take some time, but I still think we're going to get valuable ideas here. I've been stalking this sub for months, and if I know one thing, it's that these people are obsessed with imagining immortal supernaturally-powerful people. Once we build up in their minds the idea that vampires have mind-control powers, we'll be unstoppable. We'll make some memes, get them trending on Twitter, and before you know it, the whole world will be thinking about how powerful vampires are. We'll have the power to convince not just a few, but *all* humans that we are immortal and invincible.
\*It sounds great, but I've seen things like this before. It happened to my parents' generation, when vampire stories filled the minds of Europe, and mine, when we were in the movies. The humans strengthened us with their fears, but they invented all sorts of weird ways to kill us and keep us away. For decades I never walked through a doorway without being invited in. That was inconvenient as hell.
\-This time is different. This time we have social media. Once they believe we can control them, we will make them believe that forever. It's a self-fulfilling prophecy.
\*That's what the next generation will call their grand plan to dominate the world. They'll come up with a vague prophecy about vampires taking over the world and becoming invincible and enslaving the humans, and prophecy will guide the humans to fulfill it as they do everything in their power to stop it.
\-Wait, is that true?
\*Of course, my child. Would you doubt a prophecy about a fabricated prophecy?
\-Well said. I suppose I really have no idea how any of this will end up. Technology is changing so rapidly now, the future seems so uncertain. Oh . . . Dad? Do you suppose . . . When humans create artificial general intelligence that rivals or surpasses their own, do you think it will count as human? Or Fae? Will it have the power to re-imagine us? Or will it possess what power the humans fear it will possess?
\*Either way, it spells doom for our kind.
\-Then we must do everything in our power to stop it.
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[WP] Monsters are real, but their strengths and weaknesses are based on what humans believe. They’ve started using media to change their and others abilities..
|
Well, I personally think I have really terrible luck. I mean, out of all the supernatural beings out there:
Gods and Demons (believer count:billions), Vampires (believer count: millions), Faeries (believer count: thousands) and then there is me, Flying Spaghetti Monster (believer count: **one**).
Why, why, why did I have to be *flying spaghetti monster?!* You've gotta be kidding me! Do you realize how awful it was when I first gained "awareness" of my existence? I am just a prop atheists and non-believers use as an excuse, as a way to be snarky and say, "If God can be real, why can't flying spaghetti monster?"
Who even believed in me anyway? Turns out, it was a petty keyboard warrior who doubled down on his argument, and believed in me just out of spite. Assholes, both of them. A few minutes later, I was born into existence. Thanks, *Timmy.*
It was depressing to walk the streets and pass by powerful, beautiful and dangerous creatures. If I had eyes, I probably would have cried. What I have instead are noodle like appendages that I can maneuver as arms and an the ability to fly one cm off the ground. I am bottom of the barrel.
But, I will persevere! I won't give up on life just because Timmy couldn't imagine a more fearsome monster. I will use social media, change my branding and become the most terrifying monster a human can imagine.
I first went to a library and used their computer to write stories about myself. I didn't exactly say I was a spaghetti monster. I described me a disembodied figure who can plague minds and control people. What's more scary than the loss of control? I wrote chain messages, urban legends, fake articles -you name it, I wrote it.
I leaned back and relaxed after I finished posting my story. Now I just have to wait until all the impressionable 12 year old readers spread my agenda and do my work.
I practiced my evil laughter.
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"\[WP\] Vampires are immortal beings with the ability to charm humans, changing their minds, or even enthralling them entirely. For millennia, they have only communicated face-to-face, but one of them has just discovered Reddit..."
\-There we go. This was a good idea, now we just have to wait and watch their imaginations run wild.
\*Okay. Who else should we send it to?
\-Dad, this isn't email, it's social media. Everyone can see it.
\*Everyone? Wait, no, no, no, we agreed one person at a time. What if they find out we're vampires?
\-Nobody will find out, this account is a throwaway anyway. It's all anonymous. I made sure this account is untraceable.
\*Oh. Wait, I'm in correspondence with quite a few companies online, how are they supposed to send me coupons and investment opportunities?
\-Dad, no, this is different. Like, remember how I showed you email and Facebook are different, and that neither of them are Internet Explorer?
\*Don't use that tone with me. You know, when all this technology stuff was new, I was really good at it. I even helped with the very first telephone exchanges. So I know how the enternet works at the most basic level. Kids these days don't even know how a lot of that stuff works, they just do their programs and logarithms and-
\-Algorithms. And it's Internet with an I. Are you getting . . . less Internet-literate?
\*I'm old, not stupid. You-
\-That's not what I meant. Oh, no. Look. The first story's just been posted. It . . . portrays a vampire as . . . really terrible with modern computers. Maybe this was a bad idea.
\*Well, that's just one story. You said it wouldn't have that big an effect unless a lot of people saw it.
\-I think it's that special case you were telling me about. If humans haven't given much thought to a particular aspect of a Fae creature, the first time it's thought about or communicated to others has an exaggerated effect. It should correct once more stories contradict the ideas, unless, they confirm them instead.
\*I knew this was a bad idea. I told you-
\-Just wait. It may take some time, but I still think we're going to get valuable ideas here. I've been stalking this sub for months, and if I know one thing, it's that these people are obsessed with imagining immortal supernaturally-powerful people. Once we build up in their minds the idea that vampires have mind-control powers, we'll be unstoppable. We'll make some memes, get them trending on Twitter, and before you know it, the whole world will be thinking about how powerful vampires are. We'll have the power to convince not just a few, but *all* humans that we are immortal and invincible.
\*It sounds great, but I've seen things like this before. It happened to my parents' generation, when vampire stories filled the minds of Europe, and mine, when we were in the movies. The humans strengthened us with their fears, but they invented all sorts of weird ways to kill us and keep us away. For decades I never walked through a doorway without being invited in. That was inconvenient as hell.
\-This time is different. This time we have social media. Once they believe we can control them, we will make them believe that forever. It's a self-fulfilling prophecy.
\*That's what the next generation will call their grand plan to dominate the world. They'll come up with a vague prophecy about vampires taking over the world and becoming invincible and enslaving the humans, and prophecy will guide the humans to fulfill it as they do everything in their power to stop it.
\-Wait, is that true?
\*Of course, my child. Would you doubt a prophecy about a fabricated prophecy?
\-Well said. I suppose I really have no idea how any of this will end up. Technology is changing so rapidly now, the future seems so uncertain. Oh . . . Dad? Do you suppose . . . When humans create artificial general intelligence that rivals or surpasses their own, do you think it will count as human? Or Fae? Will it have the power to re-imagine us? Or will it possess what power the humans fear it will possess?
\*Either way, it spells doom for our kind.
\-Then we must do everything in our power to stop it.
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[WP] Monsters are real, but their strengths and weaknesses are based on what humans believe. They’ve started using media to change their and others abilities..
|
Well, I personally think I have really terrible luck. I mean, out of all the supernatural beings out there:
Gods and Demons (believer count:billions), Vampires (believer count: millions), Faeries (believer count: thousands) and then there is me, Flying Spaghetti Monster (believer count: **one**).
Why, why, why did I have to be *flying spaghetti monster?!* You've gotta be kidding me! Do you realize how awful it was when I first gained "awareness" of my existence? I am just a prop atheists and non-believers use as an excuse, as a way to be snarky and say, "If God can be real, why can't flying spaghetti monster?"
Who even believed in me anyway? Turns out, it was a petty keyboard warrior who doubled down on his argument, and believed in me just out of spite. Assholes, both of them. A few minutes later, I was born into existence. Thanks, *Timmy.*
It was depressing to walk the streets and pass by powerful, beautiful and dangerous creatures. If I had eyes, I probably would have cried. What I have instead are noodle like appendages that I can maneuver as arms and an the ability to fly one cm off the ground. I am bottom of the barrel.
But, I will persevere! I won't give up on life just because Timmy couldn't imagine a more fearsome monster. I will use social media, change my branding and become the most terrifying monster a human can imagine.
I first went to a library and used their computer to write stories about myself. I didn't exactly say I was a spaghetti monster. I described me a disembodied figure who can plague minds and control people. What's more scary than the loss of control? I wrote chain messages, urban legends, fake articles -you name it, I wrote it.
I leaned back and relaxed after I finished posting my story. Now I just have to wait until all the impressionable 12 year old readers spread my agenda and do my work.
I practiced my evil laughter.
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We gave them the fangs they use to eat the bad children at night. We gave them the glowing red eyes that glimmer in the dark. We gave them the shroud of fear with our own fear. We *fed* their power until they became real.
Every word and sentence writes a certain code in the database of the universe, rewriting things to change to match what we want to believe. We called them spirits, fairies, gods, demons, and monsters, begging for their forgiveness and told tales of their great powers and feats.
And that was our folly.
With tales of old and stories of child-like imagination, thrashing beasts of terror had risen from the depths. Eldritch horrors had risen (blame Lovecraft on that one), and god-like demons had opened their eyes.
Our kingdom and reign of the planet was over. We were no longer the predators of this world. And so our own tales began, recording our endeavors against the ancient horrors and terrifying monsters we had birthed.
Of course, we as humans were filled with arrogance, and we glorified our tales. More and more, we told the tales like stories from fantasy books; lies to fulfill some sort of empty hunger for a sense of strength.
And before we knew it, we had the powers we gave ourselves. We *had* all of the abilities and feats the storytellers told the children.
That's when we were all reminded.
We were monsters too.
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[WP] you're walking from the basement when you decide to flip the bird at the darkness for whatever reason. Something says, "wow, that's rude."
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"You're not my mother!" Sarah slammed the laundry machine shut in an act of defiance and angst. Her brother yelled back down through the floorboards. She shouldn't have slammed the laundry machine closed, but she was angry, so very angry, and alone. Thrusting her arm into the darkness of the basement, she flipped the bird, putting far more effort into it than was needed. Then again, being at odds with relatives was essential for any teenager to fit in socially, anything else would be weird.
"Wow." A slow, methodical, and deep voice spoke back from the darkness. "That's rude."
Any sentiment of color drained from Sarah's face. She froze in place, barely able to look to her side.
A red dot stared at her from the darkness. Staring at her with an intensity she never felt before.
Sarah's body trembled.
"Perhaps you shouldn't act like a child." It paused. "Perhaps you should listen to others more." It paused again. "Perhaps you should."
Her arm slowly reached out to feel the light switch, she wasn't going to look away from whatever this was. It wasn't moving yet, and maybe if she kept looking, it wouldn't move. Not knowing what it was wasn't helping, but so far, this is what was observed about it.
A new and cheery voice spoke out from it, a new persona, and it said, "Please flip the tape over to side B."
With a click, she flipped the light switch. Dad's old sound system was sitting on a shelf, the red light from the power switch mocking her with how inanimate it was. She drew in a slow and deliberate breath before exhaling at volumes previously debated to only be accomplished by the engines of a Boeing seven forty seven.
"Greg!"
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"Wow, that's rude."
That's all I heard that night and still to this day that baritone haunts my thoughts. I thought running was the best thing to do, I mean what was I supposed to do? I know now I would have stood no chance fighting him and I knew then by the way his voice sent a chill down my spine.
Since that first encounter, Charlie has been kind to me. He doesn't interfere much anymore due to learning how to deal with his evil thoughts, but he does love me like he says "I'll love you forever, and I'll never leave your side." However, I did this to myself. I should have never broken up with Charlie that night and left him alone in the basement. Now I must live with his ghost forever, and a widow until the end of my days.
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[WP] You died, but you didn't die. Your heart stopped beating and your body started decaying until all that was left was a skeleton. But you didn't die. Doctors are baffled. Priest throw holy water at you. 'Life' goes on...
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Looking at yourself in the mirror is a habit that is difficult to break. I know, I did it every day. Like most people, I had days when I liked what I saw, and days when I criticized the mortal coil atop the cold bones.
After my death my family held a funeral, a cordial affair with immediate and extended family in attendance. The casket was a biodegradable bamboo material, lacquered to a fine polish, striated with grains of ochre and umber.
Claire, my wife, wept above my cold pale body, and placed a photo in my jacket pocket, a memento of our wedding day years past. The family couldn't have prepared for what would happen next.
While laying in my bamboo forever-home, a breathe of thin air flowed into me, and I jolted awake in my closed coffin. I knocked at the hard lid, sending an anxious murmur among the audience. When they opened the lid, I was there, hyperventilating, a living corpse. My blood did not pump, my heart did not beat, I was dead yet alive. I felt a wave of euphoria, then nausea. I was not supposed to have living thoughts. The heart attack had been resolute about its intentions.
After I left the graveyard, my wife grew distant. She wept at night sometimes, telling me she could not see living with somebody who was not alive themselves. I told her I understood. I had trouble accepting the situation, and living with myself.
Eventually, to the shock of my doctor, my muscles fell away, leaving bare bones. They called it a miracle. I called it a curse.
I tried to make the vision of my situation go away. I investigated all manner of concealment. Anything to hide my bulging ribs. My face was was a wraith. I was the mortal grim reaper. Perhaps I was truly immortal, it was hard to say. All I saw when I looked in my eyes were dark cavities. An empty soul.
The media hounded me, jostling each other for a scoop on the *skeleton man*. Online they were calling me something different--the Mortal Dead. I broke the mirrors in my apartment. The wife could not bear the situation any longer, so I moved away and I lived in a shoebox in a rundown area of town. At my lowest point I flipped open my laptop and logged into OK Cupid.
Turns out many women had a morbid curiosity in going on a date with a human skeleton. I turned them away, I did not want to be a public spectacle.
But then I made a friend on the site. We messaged for a week, and she seemed very cool. She had similar issues with her appearance, and had trouble relating to others. She agreed to meet me on a coffee date, at a Starbucks downtown.
When I saw her I felt a warmth in my chest. I knew it was a phantom sensation, for I had no heart. She was a beautiful sight, though skinny as a rail. But her icy blue eyes seemed to glow under the warm lights. She wore a blue shirt that gave the impression of a metropolitan Cinderella.
"Nice to finally see you in the flesh," Alexandra said, eyelashes fluttering up and down quickly.
"You look stunning," I said, holding out my stiff white hand.
She glanced down and hesitated for a moment, then accepted the handshake. I held the door open for her, and we filed into the coffeehouse.
"What are you having?" she asked, then seemed to swallow her words back up. Obviously I was incapable of consuming a drop of coffee.
She ordered herself a cup of black drip, and we sat at a small couch. She did not have to wedge in, since my diameter was so narrow.
"I know how you feel, the way they look at you," she said.
Indeed, she was skeletal as well, with the addition of beautiful tanned skin. I did not broach the subject, but we both knew the truth. She was anorexic. It was fruitless to hide.
I understood. We had a bond that went beyond the physical, but our bodies were the starting point for an adventure that would last a lifetime. I dated her for a year, and when our first anniversary arrived, I took her back to the site of our first date.
"Will you marry me?"
She released a tear, a pent-up bit of lost time. She agreed happily, and we agreed to waste no more years on useless tears. We lived as a normal couple, I a mass of bones, her a living flower of a woman. I convinced her, quite unconsciously, to change her eating habits. She eventually put on another twenty pounds of healthy fat, and felt a vigorous burst of life. I could see it in her eyes. Gratitude and love intermingled.
Life went on, and on the eightieth day of her life, Alexandra died in her sleep. I knew the day was inevitable, but I still shed a phantom tear.
That was when I made the decision to end it. I would strip my skull from my vertebrae and end the neverending life I had been cursed with from an early age.
I will be buried beside my wife, my living bride.
|
“Alexander Petersen? Is there an Alexander Petersen here?” Asks the doctor’s assistant politely. I raise my hand, surprised she hadn’t noticed me yet. “Doctor Palmer can see you now.” When I came in I was surprised to see the doctor with a smile, because since the accident I hadn’t seen him smile.
On my way back home people gave me weird looks, but not more than normal. I had covered up most of my body although thanks to the shape of my body it looks like I haven’t eaten in months. Doctor Palmer’s words were still echoing through my head. I still cannot believe them.
Doctor Palmer said that he got an offer from the government. If I let them do ‘regular’ tests on my body, they will give me money, a blank check he said. Fucking money, for tests. It’s almost like a shitty story I read at r/writingprompts on Reddit. My doc said that I shouldn’t accept it. I don’t know what to do.
Eric, my friend, left for a trip to Japan this morning. He didn’t believe me. My best friend for christ’s sake. I remember that yesterday he was joking about suicide and talking about stereotypes for homosexual people.
Suicide
Could I?
No.
Well.
There isn’t anybody in this world that gives a shit anymore.
I accepted it. The offer. I don’t know why. Well rather why I wouldn’t. The next day I was escorted to a facility 4 hours away from my home by car.
The facility was dark and in the middle of the woods. Thankfully the employees there were nice and my room wasn’t terrible, besides I’m only required to be here for 2 days.
The first test was weird, in a sense that they didn’t do anything at all. I just sat there for an hour listening to some music on my phone. The rest of the day I didn’t have to do anything. I was allowed to just wander around all I want. The day after they put me in the same room as the room I had to do nothing in.
I tried to open the door of the room I was in, but it wouldn’t budge. They also hadn’t checked on me yet, for what felt like 3 hours.
I was left with nothing at all but a table and a chair.
[to be continued, gotta go]
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[WP] You are Oelia. A deity of such immense power you can control Zeus and Hades with a simple whisper. You have been forgotten as you chose a simple life. Songs of you have been quiet for thousands of years, until one day you hear a child singing a song from a book you thought was burned long ago.
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A life of power is often boring. I try my best to make it not so.
The woman in front of me widens her eyes as she stares at me. I have mine closed, of course. She has to believe. But I see her staring all the same.
"What do you see?" she says in a hushed tone. I furrow my brows and hold her hand tighter. From my mind's eye, I see the woman flicking her eyes around the room as if to look for answers.
She looks over my decorations, gaudy and sparkly. She looks over my table, cluttered in ornaments and supposedly magical objects. I have to resist a smile. If only she knew how powerful some of these objects truly are. Then, her gaze freezes on possibly the most *uninteresting* object in my entire workshop.
My crystal ball.
She stares at the small glass object like it's holding her captive and I have no doubt that she sees whatever she wants to within its murky walls. Truthfully, it's only made of fogged glass. But I never tell any of my customers that.
"I see... pain," I say finally, making sure to keep my eyes closed. The worried woman snaps her gaze back to me and curls her lips awkwardly.
"Pain?" she asks. The dread building within her radiates warmly on my skin.
"Yes, I can see... a ruined family... a lost job... and..." My voice trails off. I relish in the anticipation she is trying her very best not to show. "A burning house!"
She gasps and jerks her hand back. I open my eyes—my *real* eyes and stare at her. Her face is flushed, red like the surface of an apple from Eden. She opens her mouth and sputters, but no real words come out.
"This is very troubling," I say, faking contemplation. I really *did* see pain in her future, I hadn't lied about that. But I may have exaggerated a bit with what I was telling her. A ruined family, a lost job, and a burning house are all things you can find on a sitcom, after all.
I hold out my arm and stare at her. "And out of your entire future, I'm getting... I'm getting a message!"
"A message?"
"Yes," I say, exaggerating myself. My ethereal form is doing little more than lifting a finger. "**If you do not change your ways, your life will end in ruin.**"
She angles her eyebrows upward, staring at me with a little more than dread in her eyes. Actual, palpable *fear* radiate onto my skin. It occurs to me that I might have gone a little too far.
"What does it mean by change my ways?!"
"From what I can tell... and the readings I'm getting from the spiritual realm," I have to stop myself from laughing, "it means that you need to be a better person. Improve your karma. Be more considerate, help out more people, do some charity work."
I feel the way she gets upset. I actually *do* roll my physical eyes this time. "If you do not... the spirits will work against you, and your life may very well end up in ruin."
She stops being as upset, the fear of what she thinks is a real reading coming right back. She stares down, her eyes meeting the glittery cover on my wooden table. Silence grips the room.
"That is your reading," I say finally. "That will be $100, please."
The woman looks up, confused, but nods an understanding after seeing the firm smile on my face. She digs out her wallet and retrieves a few bills before handing them to me. Being a psychic was most *certainly* the easiest way to make money in a normal life.
As the woman leaves, a jingle following her exit of my shop, I wave my hand and the woman's bills go streaming through the air and into the back of my shop, eager to join the *other* stacks of cash I have stored away.
I feel something in the air, but for the first time in ages, I don't know what it means. Another jingle splits the air, surprising even *me*. I furrow my brow and walk forward.
"The tale of all will start right here. Read this and the end draws near." A childlike voice lilts its way throughout my shop. I nearly freeze in place, recognizing those words in an instant.
"The mother god of all creation. Life and death give her elation." My mind's eye twitches at the long-lost words.
Images flash in my mind, ones of fire and ice. The cold mountain top. The howling winds. The immense, crackling fire splitting through it all as the last of my followers pile tome after tome into the blaze.
"Let her life or let her die. She is eternal, she tells no lie. This is the tale unlike any other. Share it with all, son wife or brother. This is the tale of **Oelia**."
My true name rings out in the room and all of the ornaments shake. My ethereal being trembles at the force of it and I feel power flowing through my veins. My human body perspires, heating up at the sudden influx.
"Who's there?" I ask into my shop just as a small child skips into my view. His eyes are moving over the shelves with absolute curiosity and he's mumbling to himself. Even in the hushed tone, I can still *feel* the familiarity of it all.
"Boy! You there!" I yell. He tears his gaze to me and stops. The soft blond hair on his head whips around and he has to brush a few strands of it from his vision with his small hands.
"Hi," he says cutely. My heart flutters for a second, but the song he sang keeps me on track.
"Hello," I say as calmly as I can. "What are you doing here? And where did you learn that song you were singing?"
His eyes glance at the floor and he shakes his small foot. "I... I finded it in a book."
I smile. "And where did you find this book?"
He looks to the side. "In a hole in the ground, covered in shiny leaves."
My blood runs cold and the truth flares out at me. I'd told them to make a copy. I'd told them to hide it. And they *had*. They had sealed it with my blessing. Nobody should've been able to get through my leaves, nobody should've even been able to *notice* them.
"Where are your parents?" I ask, repeating as human of a question as I can find while my divine consciousness is working overtime.
"I dunno," he says, seemingly without care.
I try to feel, try to sense his emotions or thoughts. I can't, and I squint at him instead. "What's your name?"
"Uh... t-the people at the street call me Baron."
"Well, *Baron*," I feel the power in the name, "can you come with me? I just have a few questions for you."
---
/r/Palmerranian
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I drew in a deep breath of spring air, stretching my lungs. It felt nice, having lungs. Humans aren't the strongest, or the most intelligent, or the most wise, or really the most *anything* of all my creations, but the rustic simplicity of their world holds a certain charm. I make a point of popping in every so often for a visit. This particular era was an interesting one. I could smell the sharp tang of change in the air; for better or for worse, who can say? Beside me, I mean.
Anyway, on this particular morning I strolled through a small, quiet park somewhere on the west coast of the North American continent. Not too long ago, I had masqueraded as one of the "dinosaurs" that used to roam the area- it really was too bad about them. As I listened to the strains of birdsong, another small voice caught my ear. A small male child, well-formed (I congratulated myself on that), sat on a bench reading a book out loud. "In the beginning," said the child, "the universe was created". I smiled and nodded at this. It was nice to hear that the humans remembered *something* of me. Then, the child continued: "This has made a lot of people very angry and been widely regarded as a bad move".
My eyes widened. "Excuse me," I said to the child. "Who says the creation of the universe was a bad move?"
The boy looked at up at me. "I'm not supposed to talk to strangers.." he said, doubtfully.
"Nonsense!" I exclaimed. "Listen, child. I created this world! You have nothing to fear from me". I gave him my widest grin to show my sincerity.
The child must have remembered some previous engagement, because at this he sprang from the bench and ran off, book in hand. I watched him go, confused, then shrugged (such a satisfying gesture). I resumed my walk, this time with a slightly pensive expression, which I had beforehand worked very hard to perfect. People were angry that I created the universe? The universe's creation was widely regarded as a bad move? I shook my head. Perish the thought! I ended up finishing my little stint on the earth, but was a bit too preoccupied to really put my heart into it.
I suppose I can see where my work was a bit lacking; it was my first attempt and so some of the code *was* a little messy. Nowadays I could certainly do a better job. Maybe.. I should start over from scratch?
Eh, I think I'll just reuse my old code. Universe 2.0, here we come!
​
Criticism Welcome.
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[WP] You are Oelia. A deity of such immense power you can control Zeus and Hades with a simple whisper. You have been forgotten as you chose a simple life. Songs of you have been quiet for thousands of years, until one day you hear a child singing a song from a book you thought was burned long ago.
|
Being a god is such a messy, bothersome business. Once, I revelled in it. My teenage (well, in a way) self got high on power, and lesser gods knew to fear me.
But how long can you be satisfied with things that come so easily?
And so, I left. Contrary to popular belief, it was not gods that created the vast, breathtaking universe. No, the forces behind it were much more raw, primal, and they were not self aware... At least from what I could tell. I wanted to see it all, an maybe find something that would give me purpose, for ruling a tiny spec of dust crawling with gods and humans was... Not right, somehow.
Millennia passed, as I travelled. I saw worlds unlike any other, spots of mortal life, with their own gods and struggles. Miraculous stars and galaxies, each unique and amazing.
I didn't even come close to seeing all of creation. I was determined to pursue my goal, for eternity if I had to.
But then, I heard a faint sound. Child's feeble voice, echoing through the vastness of space. With time, the melody grew stronger, until I finally recognized it: the song of old, from the time of my rule, that I had though to be long forgotten by now.
At first, I ignored it. What would humans want with me now? I am no longer part of that world. But the familiar tune soon woke emotions I was not aware I was still capable of: fierce longing and inexplicable urgency. I was... Homesick?
I had to see. Who and why summons me with such sad melody.
Earth has changed much in my absence. The blue world below was now surrounded by a magnificent, massive ring. I felt it bustling with life inside. Humans were a capable folk, with or without gods.
For the first time in thousands of years, I walked among mortals again. First few gave me a weird stare - it appeared like fashion has changed quite a bit since the age of bronze armors, so I quickly adapted to look more like current humans.
I needed to find out what was happening, and causing chaos as a returning deity was the last thing I needed.
I focused my senses. The wailing song was still there, calling to me more and more desperately. Oddly, I could not feel the presence of any other deity. Were they gone also? Or did their constant strife finally backfire on them? Curious...
I followed the song. Finally, I found a massive building, striking proudly into the sky. Inside, I found a room. The voice was coming from there, I was certain.
I entered the room... And it was empty. Puzzled, I looked around. In the middle, there stood a small table, with a weird, shiny device on top of it. The music was coming from it.
'what... Is the meaning of this?'
The room became flooded with light. A female voice spoke calmly without emotion.
'Thank you for answering The Call. The Corporation is grateful for your contribution to human future.'
I felt as if invisible shackles fell on me, sapping away my strength. I quickly understood. Why there were no gods, and how humanity advanced so fast. They harvested us, like we did them, in the past long forgotten.. or so I though.
But they were not ready for a being like me. Whatever was holding me down, I tore it apart. In seconds, I was outside.
They have angered the wrong god.
* * *
Thanks for reading! Any criticism is much appreciated. English is my second language so I apologize for butchering grammar. Peace!
Edit: wow, my first ever silver! This post has gained more attention than I could hope for. Thank you all for kind words!
Edit2: Due to popular demand, Part 2 now in the reply to this comment! Hope you enjoy it as well.
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I drew in a deep breath of spring air, stretching my lungs. It felt nice, having lungs. Humans aren't the strongest, or the most intelligent, or the most wise, or really the most *anything* of all my creations, but the rustic simplicity of their world holds a certain charm. I make a point of popping in every so often for a visit. This particular era was an interesting one. I could smell the sharp tang of change in the air; for better or for worse, who can say? Beside me, I mean.
Anyway, on this particular morning I strolled through a small, quiet park somewhere on the west coast of the North American continent. Not too long ago, I had masqueraded as one of the "dinosaurs" that used to roam the area- it really was too bad about them. As I listened to the strains of birdsong, another small voice caught my ear. A small male child, well-formed (I congratulated myself on that), sat on a bench reading a book out loud. "In the beginning," said the child, "the universe was created". I smiled and nodded at this. It was nice to hear that the humans remembered *something* of me. Then, the child continued: "This has made a lot of people very angry and been widely regarded as a bad move".
My eyes widened. "Excuse me," I said to the child. "Who says the creation of the universe was a bad move?"
The boy looked at up at me. "I'm not supposed to talk to strangers.." he said, doubtfully.
"Nonsense!" I exclaimed. "Listen, child. I created this world! You have nothing to fear from me". I gave him my widest grin to show my sincerity.
The child must have remembered some previous engagement, because at this he sprang from the bench and ran off, book in hand. I watched him go, confused, then shrugged (such a satisfying gesture). I resumed my walk, this time with a slightly pensive expression, which I had beforehand worked very hard to perfect. People were angry that I created the universe? The universe's creation was widely regarded as a bad move? I shook my head. Perish the thought! I ended up finishing my little stint on the earth, but was a bit too preoccupied to really put my heart into it.
I suppose I can see where my work was a bit lacking; it was my first attempt and so some of the code *was* a little messy. Nowadays I could certainly do a better job. Maybe.. I should start over from scratch?
Eh, I think I'll just reuse my old code. Universe 2.0, here we come!
​
Criticism Welcome.
|
|
[WP] You are Oelia. A deity of such immense power you can control Zeus and Hades with a simple whisper. You have been forgotten as you chose a simple life. Songs of you have been quiet for thousands of years, until one day you hear a child singing a song from a book you thought was burned long ago.
|
Being a god is such a messy, bothersome business. Once, I revelled in it. My teenage (well, in a way) self got high on power, and lesser gods knew to fear me.
But how long can you be satisfied with things that come so easily?
And so, I left. Contrary to popular belief, it was not gods that created the vast, breathtaking universe. No, the forces behind it were much more raw, primal, and they were not self aware... At least from what I could tell. I wanted to see it all, an maybe find something that would give me purpose, for ruling a tiny spec of dust crawling with gods and humans was... Not right, somehow.
Millennia passed, as I travelled. I saw worlds unlike any other, spots of mortal life, with their own gods and struggles. Miraculous stars and galaxies, each unique and amazing.
I didn't even come close to seeing all of creation. I was determined to pursue my goal, for eternity if I had to.
But then, I heard a faint sound. Child's feeble voice, echoing through the vastness of space. With time, the melody grew stronger, until I finally recognized it: the song of old, from the time of my rule, that I had though to be long forgotten by now.
At first, I ignored it. What would humans want with me now? I am no longer part of that world. But the familiar tune soon woke emotions I was not aware I was still capable of: fierce longing and inexplicable urgency. I was... Homesick?
I had to see. Who and why summons me with such sad melody.
Earth has changed much in my absence. The blue world below was now surrounded by a magnificent, massive ring. I felt it bustling with life inside. Humans were a capable folk, with or without gods.
For the first time in thousands of years, I walked among mortals again. First few gave me a weird stare - it appeared like fashion has changed quite a bit since the age of bronze armors, so I quickly adapted to look more like current humans.
I needed to find out what was happening, and causing chaos as a returning deity was the last thing I needed.
I focused my senses. The wailing song was still there, calling to me more and more desperately. Oddly, I could not feel the presence of any other deity. Were they gone also? Or did their constant strife finally backfire on them? Curious...
I followed the song. Finally, I found a massive building, striking proudly into the sky. Inside, I found a room. The voice was coming from there, I was certain.
I entered the room... And it was empty. Puzzled, I looked around. In the middle, there stood a small table, with a weird, shiny device on top of it. The music was coming from it.
'what... Is the meaning of this?'
The room became flooded with light. A female voice spoke calmly without emotion.
'Thank you for answering The Call. The Corporation is grateful for your contribution to human future.'
I felt as if invisible shackles fell on me, sapping away my strength. I quickly understood. Why there were no gods, and how humanity advanced so fast. They harvested us, like we did them, in the past long forgotten.. or so I though.
But they were not ready for a being like me. Whatever was holding me down, I tore it apart. In seconds, I was outside.
They have angered the wrong god.
* * *
Thanks for reading! Any criticism is much appreciated. English is my second language so I apologize for butchering grammar. Peace!
Edit: wow, my first ever silver! This post has gained more attention than I could hope for. Thank you all for kind words!
Edit2: Due to popular demand, Part 2 now in the reply to this comment! Hope you enjoy it as well.
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A life of power is often boring. I try my best to make it not so.
The woman in front of me widens her eyes as she stares at me. I have mine closed, of course. She has to believe. But I see her staring all the same.
"What do you see?" she says in a hushed tone. I furrow my brows and hold her hand tighter. From my mind's eye, I see the woman flicking her eyes around the room as if to look for answers.
She looks over my decorations, gaudy and sparkly. She looks over my table, cluttered in ornaments and supposedly magical objects. I have to resist a smile. If only she knew how powerful some of these objects truly are. Then, her gaze freezes on possibly the most *uninteresting* object in my entire workshop.
My crystal ball.
She stares at the small glass object like it's holding her captive and I have no doubt that she sees whatever she wants to within its murky walls. Truthfully, it's only made of fogged glass. But I never tell any of my customers that.
"I see... pain," I say finally, making sure to keep my eyes closed. The worried woman snaps her gaze back to me and curls her lips awkwardly.
"Pain?" she asks. The dread building within her radiates warmly on my skin.
"Yes, I can see... a ruined family... a lost job... and..." My voice trails off. I relish in the anticipation she is trying her very best not to show. "A burning house!"
She gasps and jerks her hand back. I open my eyes—my *real* eyes and stare at her. Her face is flushed, red like the surface of an apple from Eden. She opens her mouth and sputters, but no real words come out.
"This is very troubling," I say, faking contemplation. I really *did* see pain in her future, I hadn't lied about that. But I may have exaggerated a bit with what I was telling her. A ruined family, a lost job, and a burning house are all things you can find on a sitcom, after all.
I hold out my arm and stare at her. "And out of your entire future, I'm getting... I'm getting a message!"
"A message?"
"Yes," I say, exaggerating myself. My ethereal form is doing little more than lifting a finger. "**If you do not change your ways, your life will end in ruin.**"
She angles her eyebrows upward, staring at me with a little more than dread in her eyes. Actual, palpable *fear* radiate onto my skin. It occurs to me that I might have gone a little too far.
"What does it mean by change my ways?!"
"From what I can tell... and the readings I'm getting from the spiritual realm," I have to stop myself from laughing, "it means that you need to be a better person. Improve your karma. Be more considerate, help out more people, do some charity work."
I feel the way she gets upset. I actually *do* roll my physical eyes this time. "If you do not... the spirits will work against you, and your life may very well end up in ruin."
She stops being as upset, the fear of what she thinks is a real reading coming right back. She stares down, her eyes meeting the glittery cover on my wooden table. Silence grips the room.
"That is your reading," I say finally. "That will be $100, please."
The woman looks up, confused, but nods an understanding after seeing the firm smile on my face. She digs out her wallet and retrieves a few bills before handing them to me. Being a psychic was most *certainly* the easiest way to make money in a normal life.
As the woman leaves, a jingle following her exit of my shop, I wave my hand and the woman's bills go streaming through the air and into the back of my shop, eager to join the *other* stacks of cash I have stored away.
I feel something in the air, but for the first time in ages, I don't know what it means. Another jingle splits the air, surprising even *me*. I furrow my brow and walk forward.
"The tale of all will start right here. Read this and the end draws near." A childlike voice lilts its way throughout my shop. I nearly freeze in place, recognizing those words in an instant.
"The mother god of all creation. Life and death give her elation." My mind's eye twitches at the long-lost words.
Images flash in my mind, ones of fire and ice. The cold mountain top. The howling winds. The immense, crackling fire splitting through it all as the last of my followers pile tome after tome into the blaze.
"Let her life or let her die. She is eternal, she tells no lie. This is the tale unlike any other. Share it with all, son wife or brother. This is the tale of **Oelia**."
My true name rings out in the room and all of the ornaments shake. My ethereal being trembles at the force of it and I feel power flowing through my veins. My human body perspires, heating up at the sudden influx.
"Who's there?" I ask into my shop just as a small child skips into my view. His eyes are moving over the shelves with absolute curiosity and he's mumbling to himself. Even in the hushed tone, I can still *feel* the familiarity of it all.
"Boy! You there!" I yell. He tears his gaze to me and stops. The soft blond hair on his head whips around and he has to brush a few strands of it from his vision with his small hands.
"Hi," he says cutely. My heart flutters for a second, but the song he sang keeps me on track.
"Hello," I say as calmly as I can. "What are you doing here? And where did you learn that song you were singing?"
His eyes glance at the floor and he shakes his small foot. "I... I finded it in a book."
I smile. "And where did you find this book?"
He looks to the side. "In a hole in the ground, covered in shiny leaves."
My blood runs cold and the truth flares out at me. I'd told them to make a copy. I'd told them to hide it. And they *had*. They had sealed it with my blessing. Nobody should've been able to get through my leaves, nobody should've even been able to *notice* them.
"Where are your parents?" I ask, repeating as human of a question as I can find while my divine consciousness is working overtime.
"I dunno," he says, seemingly without care.
I try to feel, try to sense his emotions or thoughts. I can't, and I squint at him instead. "What's your name?"
"Uh... t-the people at the street call me Baron."
"Well, *Baron*," I feel the power in the name, "can you come with me? I just have a few questions for you."
---
/r/Palmerranian
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[WP] Your job is to fill up all those dungeon chests the player can loot later on.
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I like making baubles, nick-knacks, and jewelry. Over the decades, I've become a skilled artisan-- really! I don't toot my own horn... except for this journal? Anyways, I know I've gotten better because people have set the price for my creations higher, and they've started taking them to regional markets within the principality. People that don't live near my "Booby Cave" want my stuff! I like that.
Recently, I had to make my booby traps more harder to disarm. Too many adventurous kids and wanna-be soldiers were swarming my cave. I have to have time to make the things to put in the chests... when they aren't stealing my chests! Those are hard to make, why do they have to steal my chests? I can sneak around sneaky with what it takes to make my baubles, it's harder to do with a chest.
It's a balance, those traps. Scary and hurty but not full of deathy-death. I *try* not to kill, but some people are stupid. Who gets shot by a poison dart that *has a tag* with "Haha! You're poisoned!" written on it then chooses to ignore the warning? It took a week for him to die, so it wasn't like he didn't have a chance to find a healer. Stupid bastard. Maybe I should cut the local healer in on my scheme. Others lose fingers, eyes, and get scarred. I'm not worried about those, they brag about how they got hurt at the tavern.
Some smarty-pants would-be looters have tried to spy who or what keeps Booby Cave stocked with traps and prizes. They all stank, making them easy enough to avoid. Really! How hard is it to wipe your ass? I dug tunnels and trenches after the first attempted ambush so I can enter and exit without being seen. They still try their ambush idea from time to time, it never works.
I want to tell someone that it's me that does it all... that's why I'm writing this! That the baubles and jewelry the local knight gifted to his wife, mistresses, and daughters were made by me. Same for the nick-knack toys that can be wound like a clock to do silly things. That the cave and silly things this place has become known for are all kept working by me.
Me, their tiny lil' rat-catcher. The weird kobold missing part of her tail that stomps around in oversized shirts. The wanna-be dragonling that "can't appreciate the sophistication" of the jewelry coming out of the cave. The look about their faces would be great! But then no one would want my stuff again. I like it when people like my stuff.
Those shirts are really comfy. I don't know why they make fun of my shirts.
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It's bait. You might think they'd have figured that out by now, and maybe some of them do, the ones that survive but don't come back.
It's all about the slow build-up. Risk and reward. Wired right into the adventurer psyche, but I wouldn't know. I'm not real fond of risk, and this position's got multi-century job security. What more could a Gelatinous Cube ask for?
Oh, I know what you're thinking. This is a joke, I'm a joke to you. Either because you think this isn't real (how am I writing it?) or because you think we're not sentient. Well, you're half-right. Most of us aren't. My employer's real into research and experimentation. It's also how I got these nice pseudopods I can extend for things like, you know, writing and chest-stuffing. And you'd be *amazed* how much treasure-crap I can carry inside me. And I do cleanup. Blood, corpses. I mean sometimes. Some of the corpses, the boss asks me to leave where they are, I clean around them. More bait.
I try to stay out of the way, but every once in a great while some enterprising party or lone hero-type runs into me. I let them think they've "killed" me and loot whatever I happen to be hauling at the time. No big deal. I'll take it off their corpses later.
Are there always corpses later? Nah, not always. Sometimes we let them get away. It's a whole calculation, the boss has these skull-accountants who make sure we take in more than we give out. Basically a gambling-hall.
Do enough adventurers really come through? Yes and no. These days its just different versions of the same person, but soon enough we'll get a different one, or a different party. See, this whole lair is built right over a kind of crack in reality, a kind of web-fracture through the multiverse. One version might get to the "end" and "kill" my boss, really just a decent simulacrum of him but no matter, and wander off with the grand prize. But about a dozen other versions generally die in the attempt. We loot, we redistribute, we profit
The hero thinks they understand what's going on, they have this sort of temporal ability they think allows them to go back to a certain point in time, good as new, after they die. And it does, or at least it lets the personal using them as an avatar do that. But that's just it. The coins, the artifacts, the jewels, all that shiny shit? We have to keep it in the black so they'll keep coming back, but it's not the profit we're after, it's just a tool.
What we're after is the little soul-slivers they leave behind with every death. Not the avatars.
The "players."
​
r/Magleby
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[WP] You are a vet at an animal shelter. Everytime a cat was about to be put down, you secretly release it. You are caught and fired, costing you everything. In your darkest hour, a strange woman knocks on your door. She introduces herself as Bastet and claims she is here to make things right.
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People fucking suck.
It was the "Christmas clear out" and it was the 5th perfectly healthy oldie to be brought into the practice. Usual sketch, owners think they "won't make it" and just want rid of a lifelong companion. I could never do it though.
Of course, the customer is "always right" so I couldn't refuse. Instead, I'd use anaesthetic, sneak them out the back of the incinerator, and take the day's rejects home. I didn't originally want to be a crazy cat guy, but I just couldn't let these poor things down. I'd release them at my cottage and, if they wanted they could stick around.
Anywho, comes to pass that last month the head vet was outside having a smoke and spotted me coming out of the oven with a bag. I don't think she understood, just thought I was a fucking wierdo taking dead cats home and fired me on the spot.
Now Vet training isn't cheap. And I hadn't been in the career long, so no savings, no pension, and a fuckton of debt. The house went, the car went. I couch surfed until people couldn't put up with me anymore. Until one Tuesday I was preparing for another night in the underpass, when She appeared. I offered my usual without looking up:
"Spare some change?"
I felt rather than saw her stop, but something in her voice lifted my gaze.
"My boy, for you, I can spare a change"
I gasped. Hair black as night. Eyes golden and slitted. A slender, tall woman parcelled up in a black parka. I could only gawp.
"It took a lot of courage to do what you did for my brothers and sisters. My power wanes in this modern world, but I will use some of what little I have left to do what little I can for you, cat-friend."
Her pupils expanded, and she squatted. Her nose lengthened and darkened. She hunched forwards and became lost in her parka. Before I knew it, all there was was a small wriggle under the cloth, and lifting it, I found a small, purring black cat. It head-bumped me then licked my nose. And then was gone.
Now I thought I was tripping balls due to hunger or something rotten I'd scavenged, so settled down in my grotty sleeping bag to try and rest, when the purring came back. And in the little black cat's mouth was a sandwich. I heard a voice in my head say "call me Bastet"
Now I'm still homeless. But I sleep much better nowadays with my little buddy, she keeps me warm when it's cold out and brings back food from who knows where. It's surprising how nice having nothing can be when you've a little saint to keep you company.
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"Reckoning"
"You must come quickly," said the woman, Bastet something. "I will help you, I promise. If you do as I say, everything will be fine, but you've upset some dangerous people, and they're going to come looking for you."
"What are you talking about?" I asked, aghast.
Bastet proceeded to drag me over the threshold. She was strong, and despite my greater size, I could not resist. She dragged me with the ease of a parent leading a reluctant toddler and pulled me down the path of my cottage past the 'For Sale' sign pitched in my garden illuminated by the street lamp like a beacon for everything I had lost.
"The cats," said Bastet. "Some people wanted them dead."
"W-what? Who? The shelter?"
The woman sighed impatiently as she led me along the river towards a van parked in the shadows of a copse of trees.
"I'll explain la--" She stopped walking abruptly, and pulled me behind a willow tree.
"What is it?" I asked, alarmed. I followed her gaze and saw movement in the shadows near the van.
"They've found us," Bastet hissed. "Can you swim?"
"What? Of course, I can swim. Why? And who's found us?"
"They don't like water."
"Who?"
"Cats."
I stared at the freezing water and then at Bastet.
"You want me to jump in there?" I whispered.
"You have to get away from them until we find them all."
"What on earth is going on?" Are cats the people I've upset?
Bastet didn't explain. Instead, she thrust me backwards into the freezing water. I gasped for breath and paddled frantically.
A noise burned through my mind making my vision blurry. Was that singing?
I opened my eyes to find myself in my bed. It was just a dream. Relieved, I turned off my alarm, rolled back the covers and stepped into my slippers. Comforted by the soft warmth of my slippers, I pulled on my soft fleece robe and wrapped it snuggly around myself. It was all just a dream.
I walked to the window and looked out into the brilliant sunshine of a glorious spring day. New life budded and cheeped with the joy of new beginnings. It had all been a terrible dream.
The sun's rays danced across my garden illuminating the 'For Sale' sign. My mood darkened. Sadly, some things were still real.
A cat leapt onto my wall, stretched and began washing its face with its paws. Was it worth it?
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[WP] You are a vet at an animal shelter. Everytime a cat was about to be put down, you secretly release it. You are caught and fired, costing you everything. In your darkest hour, a strange woman knocks on your door. She introduces herself as Bastet and claims she is here to make things right.
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If someone were to ever ask me how many lives I've saved, I'd have to ask a question myself:
Do you believe cats have nine lives? Because, if so, I've saved like six thousand. Otherwise, the number is a little less impressive.
Most people that save lives are deemed heroes: firefighters, cops, vets, doctors. Nobody yells at a firefighter for saving a cat from a tree, or a cop for helping to pull a kitten out of a sewer. And yet when I, a vet tech at Suburban Animal Hospital, snuck cats through our backdoor instead of putting them down, I was called a psychopath. An asshole. 'They're going to die a worse death out there,' the lead vet told me right before I was fired. Even though these cats were at-maximum euthanasians, not aggressive or old cats. Just... overflow. Water to mop off the floor that had spilled from a cup too full.
I was okay with the words they threw at me; saving all those kitties was worth it. What I *wasn't* okay with is what followed, the months spent looking for another tech job only to have every application rejected. Turns out that vets are pretty spiteful, and my name had been unofficially blacklisted in the community. Nobody would hire me.
I just wanted to help save a few lives, and it cost me my own.
A few months later, I was living in a studio downtown, working cashier at Burger King. It's not a glamorous life, but it beats the last month before I started working where I'd been rationing cans of beans. That was pretty rough.
One day, I was sitting at home, on some pillows on the floor-- my 'couch'-- just sort of crying, you know? One of those real good, body-shaking sobs where you're broken and don't even bother trying to hide it anymore. My life had turned into something I'd never expected it to. Pathetic. When I had nothing else, I at least had my work and what it meant to me. Cash registers didn't hold a lot of emotional value.
It was in that moment a knock came at the door. Must've been at least ten at night, but I wiped at my eyes and answered anyway.
A cat. A cat had knocked on my door.
Well, not really a *cat*, I suppose... it was a human from the neck down, but with a cat's head. That made it a lot weirder. I wanted to scream at first, thinking it was some kind of sick prank an old vet was playing on me, but I ended up just inviting it in for some reason. I still don't exactly know why.
"Wh... what do you want from me?" I asked the cat-head. It was purring, but didn't respond. "Is this some kind of sick joke? Did Dr. Yaneh put you up to this?"
The cat shook its head.
"Do you speak English?" It shook its head again, unsurprisingly. "Of course not, you're a... cat. Or, I guess, I've just gone insane. About time for that."
Cat-head scooted closer to me on the couch. I leaned away, but it scooted closer still, and put a hand on my hand. Something... happened.
A flood. Not of water and debris, but of emotions, a million cries for help drowning me in misery. They felt like my own, desperate, hoping for someone, anyone, to help. Then, that hand finally came, dragging me out of the torrent. One touched my shoulder, then two, then a hundred and more. Warm to the touch, careful yet bold. I felt relief. Saved. Like my life had been stolen from me, then handed back a thousand times over. When my vision snapped back to reality, Cat-head was looking at me with eyes like oceans, deep and vast beyond my knowing. It faded into mist right out of my hands, which had come to grip Cat-head's. I should've felt empty when it left. Hollow and abandoned, but... that wasn't the case. It was the opposite, really.
I no longer felt like dying. My life, and the many tied to it, felt... valuable, for once.
It was a good start.
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*/r/resonatingfury*
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"Reckoning"
"You must come quickly," said the woman, Bastet something. "I will help you, I promise. If you do as I say, everything will be fine, but you've upset some dangerous people, and they're going to come looking for you."
"What are you talking about?" I asked, aghast.
Bastet proceeded to drag me over the threshold. She was strong, and despite my greater size, I could not resist. She dragged me with the ease of a parent leading a reluctant toddler and pulled me down the path of my cottage past the 'For Sale' sign pitched in my garden illuminated by the street lamp like a beacon for everything I had lost.
"The cats," said Bastet. "Some people wanted them dead."
"W-what? Who? The shelter?"
The woman sighed impatiently as she led me along the river towards a van parked in the shadows of a copse of trees.
"I'll explain la--" She stopped walking abruptly, and pulled me behind a willow tree.
"What is it?" I asked, alarmed. I followed her gaze and saw movement in the shadows near the van.
"They've found us," Bastet hissed. "Can you swim?"
"What? Of course, I can swim. Why? And who's found us?"
"They don't like water."
"Who?"
"Cats."
I stared at the freezing water and then at Bastet.
"You want me to jump in there?" I whispered.
"You have to get away from them until we find them all."
"What on earth is going on?" Are cats the people I've upset?
Bastet didn't explain. Instead, she thrust me backwards into the freezing water. I gasped for breath and paddled frantically.
A noise burned through my mind making my vision blurry. Was that singing?
I opened my eyes to find myself in my bed. It was just a dream. Relieved, I turned off my alarm, rolled back the covers and stepped into my slippers. Comforted by the soft warmth of my slippers, I pulled on my soft fleece robe and wrapped it snuggly around myself. It was all just a dream.
I walked to the window and looked out into the brilliant sunshine of a glorious spring day. New life budded and cheeped with the joy of new beginnings. It had all been a terrible dream.
The sun's rays danced across my garden illuminating the 'For Sale' sign. My mood darkened. Sadly, some things were still real.
A cat leapt onto my wall, stretched and began washing its face with its paws. Was it worth it?
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[WP] You are a vet at an animal shelter. Everytime a cat was about to be put down, you secretly release it. You are caught and fired, costing you everything. In your darkest hour, a strange woman knocks on your door. She introduces herself as Bastet and claims she is here to make things right.
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This is it. This is actually it. This is the way my life ends after more than 3000 years of guiding humanity in the best way I could.
I hate how vulnerable I am right now. Many humans want to be able to transform into their favourite animal, but they don't know what they're wishing for. While there's some perks, it's just not worth it. Night vision is nice, but does it really beat opposable thumbs?
No.
It doesn't.
Curse Sekhmet and her stupid pranks. This isn't the first day I've spent as a cat against my will, but it's without a doubt the worst. Imagine being an immortal goddess on the way to be put down.
Imagine only being immortal when in human form.
I can't believe this is the way I go. I always imagined that if I died, it'd be legendary. Heroic. Like the old gods. Not as a lamb (cat) to slaughter.
The human lady seems nice enough. I guess it's for the better she doesn't realize who I am. I imagine she wouldn't really like to know she killed an actual god. Although, maybe, she wouldn't care. People don't care about the ancient gods.
She talks to me like I'm a baby. I really don't get why people do that. Don't they now cats can understand human language? Most cats I met find it extremely disrespectful.
I guess it doesn't matter anymore.
The human doesn't seem to know where she's going. Or does she.
She does. She actually does. She knows exactly where she's going.
I can't believe how grateful I am.
She won't believe it either.
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This prompt is weirdly specific but okay)
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"Hold on, Holy Ghost."
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Janelle stared at the woman, or 'Bastet', as she was calling herself. Her hair was inky black and fell a bit higher than her waist. Her eyes were dark blue, like a storm. Her teeth were pearly white, but it looked like she had little fangs. Her hands seemed rather claw like, and her skin was pale white in the moonlight.
Bastet leaned forward, and held Janelle's ruined collar. "This world is unfair, and what you did for the cats, for me, I don't think you should have been punished for it. Bastet leaned a bit closer to Janelle's face, but stopped. "Hah, sorry. I didn't wanna scare you."
Janelle felt scared. She hadn't talked to anyone in a long time, but she didn't want to either. "Why...?" Janelle's voice was hoarse; she hadn't spoken in a while.
"Oh right, you wouldn't recognize me like this." The woman morphed into a cat. The first cat Janelle had ever rescued. "I'm a shadowshaper. And I," Bastet changed back and wrapped her arms around Janelle. "Want to help you since you helped me." Janelle stared in disbelief.
"I-I-I-."
"Shh, you don't have to say anything. I'm gonna make this hell go away." Janelle hadn't cried in a long time, but here she was, being held by a stranger as she cried. "All you have to do is come with me."
Janelle looked at Bastet through tearful eyes. "Please, get me away from these people."
Janelle felt Bastet's grip tighten. "I'll get you out of here, and I'll make sure not to loose you again."
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"Go on, hold me close."
---
I'll let you all decide what to make of this. Because I don't even know.
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[WP] Unlike the rest of your Tribe, you can see an aura coming off things that lets you do things like spot fruit more easily, tell when the fruit is ripe, and tell how much your prey is bleeding. You are the first Human who can see Color.
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I didn't realize that everyone else saw the world differently until the child emperor passed through the Tribe. I had finally found the 183 lighter hairs that proclaimed me Wise and was allowed to sit amongst them during the Festival of Light.
"Born with a head full of Wisdom," whispered Tarley beside me, "not a speck of Youth on her."
I nodded sagely, "Everyone is born with a contrast of light and dark. Pale skin that darkens with Might. Dark hair that lightens with Wisdom. Everyone gains some measure of both."
"And you sitting here a full two years before I could," Tarley rolled his eyes.
I caught a hint of jealousy in Tarley's tone, but before I could respond a wave of bows ran through the assembled wisdoms. The child emperor had arrived surrounded by 16 Mighty, who's skin had darkened like the earth beneath us from years of training under the sun. 16 Mighty where 5 would have been enough to defend against the thirty-odd Wisdoms assembled.
I peered curiously at the child emperor shrouded in her hooded cloak. Trying to catch a glimpse of her face. Of the hair that spoke of her right to rule. Suddenly, she threw back her hood and stood with hair gleaming in the sun. Around me the gathered Wisdoms began to cut short locks of their hair in tribute, but I remained motionless and wide eyed.
Where the Wisdoms had shocks of hair like the moon at night or ash at the end of a low fire. Hair that spoke of experience and the knowing of things. The child emperor had hair like the sun on a blazing day, and no one else seemed to be able to tell the difference...
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When I was young, I thought these Colours were cut and clear. Blue meant calmness, Black was sickness, Orange was warmth, Yellow was happiness, but I found that, they were actually much more subtle than I had given it credit for.
It happened when I was picking out fruit. Usually most of these vegetables have a Yellow-Green mist, as though the colour of sunlight through leaves had been captured in the essence of the fruit. However, that day, out of curiosity I had picked an orange with a Green aura that looked more like moss than filtered sunlight. When tasting it, there was a weird aftertaste. Looking into the mirror yet again I found that there were now new wisps of Black mist swirling near my stomach.
There are more colours of course. Gold mists are usually found around places of worship. Red was interesting. Dark Red mists hovered around couples, but the rare ones who were Bright Red were often harder to approach. After a while I learnt to differentiate between rose-coloured and stop sign-coloured.
People have many unique colours, and they changed all the time. Parents who picked up their children from school were often Gray until they interact with their child's Yellow auras and turn a beautiful Pink and Orange sunset colour. Stern people were often Purple. Police being a main example of it when they pull somebody over.
Hospitals were particularly scary, yet inspiring. There was always a permanant Black mist around the hallways. Black fog poured out of the bedridden, their original Colours muted and dull. Dark Blue around their relatives, but the doctors and nurses glowed White and Gold like stars in a night sky.
However, I have never been able to figure the Silver mists that can only be found at night...
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[WP] A dark god threatens the world. Six chosen heroes are destined to fight it. Only five show up.
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“This will be your downfall!” Logar grunts as he swings his sword into another orc minion. “The prophecy foretells we will defeat one fitting your description!” he yells to the large minotaur like form leading the army of orcs. The dark aura of the seeming god is pouring over every orc, bolstering their confidence and strength. Logar continues fighting the orc hoard killing many as well as receiving multiple cuts and strikes.
“Don’t make me laugh. I am Lord Malucial and the prophecy means nothing to me. It is a child’s story meant to bring hope to the hopeless” Malucial casts another fire bolt at the group, destroying everything in its path, including a few of his own minions. Gladra waves her arms and mutters a spell putting up a barrier between the group and the fire bolt to halt its magic.
“You can see we are matching your power!” Hammar quips back after getting another arrow into Malucials leathery hide. Malucial pulls out the arrow roaring in anger. The arrow begins to glow red in his hand. Malucial throws the glowing arrow back at the him in rage. The magic infused arrow speeds back toward Hammar too fast for him to react. He can tell the arrow will be lodged into his shoulder before he can dodge and braces for the impact. But the arrow never hits. Hammar looks up to see Raygar in front of him, shield raised, blocking the arrows onslaught.
“Like my companion said, we are matching your power and as soon as the 5th member of the prophecy arrives, we will overpower you.” Raygar bellows his statement of fact right before stabbing Malucial in the leg. Malucial screams in pain. His dark magic aura closes in tighter around him and explodes, sending Raygar to the ground. Malucial pulls out the sword and prepares to strike Ragar. He stops right before contact.
“5th member you say?” Malucial nerviously questions. “Um, yes. I guess there are only four of you. I forgot.”
Gladra is in the middle of healing Logar from his injuries but replies “Yes, our companion is on his way and will turn the tide of this battle in our favor. He is the most powerful of our group.”
Malucial drops the sword and hastily says “I will, uh, need to read this prophecy again. So, you just wait here. Please excuse me, I will, uh, be back” While he speaks, smoke emanates from the dark aura covering him and when it dissipates, he is gone.
The group of heroes is confused that their foe would just disappear like that. Gladra looks around and sees that the orc army is just as confused by the seemingly hasty retreat. She is about to say something to the group when a familiar voice blurts out “Hope you guys didn’t miss me too much. I would hate to miss the party”
A short man in black robes comes up from behind the battle mounted on a black stead. His black hair waving in the air as he rides. Lightning shoots from his fingertips right in front of the orc army causing the army to run back into the woods.
“Mal!” the heroes yell in joy as he approaches.
“You missed it again!” Gladra scolds.
Mal jumps off his horse but almost falls over from a sword wound on his leg. “I can heal that” Gladra offers running over to Mal. “But where did you get that wound? You just got here.” She asks.
“I battled on the way here.” Mal says quickly.
“You always get us out of a bind my friend” Logar affectionately says as he hugs Mal. “I’m glad you are on our side” Logar feels something and pulls back from the embrace to tell Mal that there is an arrow in his back.
“I must have also gotten it on the way” Mal nervously retorts.
Gladra pulls it out and heals the wound. Logar picks it up curiously. “But it’s my arrow” he says showing it to Mal”
“That’s weird” Mal nervously laughs “Hey, I think I see Malucial over there!” Mal starts running toward the forest. The group starts chasing after him, except for Gladra who contemplates what Mal said.
“But we never told you his name.” Gladra calls to the group right before they disappear into the woods.
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(WP) The Dark Goddess and the Prophecy
Everyone knew the old story. It had been told since the founding of the kingdom and the countries surrounding them. The prophecy had predicted that there would be six heroes that would face the old, dark god. They would all be chosen from different walks of life. All with different strengths and weaknesses, but united, they would overcome the god’s tyranny and free the people from under its thumb.
Well, as it turns out, the prophecy was only correct about some things.
First of all, it was not a god, but a goddess. One of unimaginable darkness and rage, twisted by all of the negative emotion she’d repressed when she was a human, several centuries ago.
The whole of humanity cowered under her cruel rule, but there were some who had willingly helped her rise to power: assassins, criminals, those dissatisfied with the law and the people who had ruled before.
Second, only five heroes showed up. No one knew what had happened to the sixth member of the group. There were rumors, of course. They’d died, been assassinated, or worse, even become one of the goddess’s spies.
The first of the heroes, a young man named Nikolai, arrived at the abandoned palace, where the goddess and her cohorts were rumored to be hiding out. He was astride a handsome stallion, and he himself was adorned with furs. There were weapons hidden everywhere on his person, and he frowned. He couldn’t help wondering, if, indeed, he should wait for the others: the people said to help him in this monumental task.
But he already had so little time. Perhaps it would be better to wait until the sun set, to hide in the lush, green foliage that surrounded the old palace.
It was so different from his homeland, frigid and cold, where snowflakes and ice decorated everything like a pale, glimmering veil.
Sick of thinking instead of acting, he directed his horse to the thick, leafy trees, and there they hid, waiting until the next hero in the group showed up.
Never mind that they all didn’t know each other, they were said to save the world.
\*\*
But the newcomer had doubts that could not be silenced.
Eris knew that she came from nothing. Her family had been poor all their lives, and what chance they’d had of glory and comforted had gone up in smoke, thanks to their mother’s leaving to serve The Dark Goddess.
It didn’t matter that she’d sent extravagant gifts, bolts of silk from which to make gowns, heavy gold and silver coins, jewelry studded with real precious stones instead of the false ones that were pasted on in the village, or that she’d done it for their family’s safety.
That meant nothing to their proud, bitter father. He’d been so certain when Eris’s mark had shown up, inked across her back in glittering runes. He’d even asked their neighbors to donate things she needed so she could get to the palace. But even with all this planning, she’d been late.
There was a mean, ugly little voice that spoke in the back of her mind.
*If even your own family did not want you, did not think you were capable of anything, what makes you think you will be able to unseat the Dark Goddess?*
But she, and all the others mentioned in the vision, had little choice in the matter.
Destiny and fate seemed to have their own plans.
\*\*
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[WP] A dark god threatens the world. Six chosen heroes are destined to fight it. Only five show up.
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“This will be your downfall!” Logar grunts as he swings his sword into another orc minion. “The prophecy foretells we will defeat one fitting your description!” he yells to the large minotaur like form leading the army of orcs. The dark aura of the seeming god is pouring over every orc, bolstering their confidence and strength. Logar continues fighting the orc hoard killing many as well as receiving multiple cuts and strikes.
“Don’t make me laugh. I am Lord Malucial and the prophecy means nothing to me. It is a child’s story meant to bring hope to the hopeless” Malucial casts another fire bolt at the group, destroying everything in its path, including a few of his own minions. Gladra waves her arms and mutters a spell putting up a barrier between the group and the fire bolt to halt its magic.
“You can see we are matching your power!” Hammar quips back after getting another arrow into Malucials leathery hide. Malucial pulls out the arrow roaring in anger. The arrow begins to glow red in his hand. Malucial throws the glowing arrow back at the him in rage. The magic infused arrow speeds back toward Hammar too fast for him to react. He can tell the arrow will be lodged into his shoulder before he can dodge and braces for the impact. But the arrow never hits. Hammar looks up to see Raygar in front of him, shield raised, blocking the arrows onslaught.
“Like my companion said, we are matching your power and as soon as the 5th member of the prophecy arrives, we will overpower you.” Raygar bellows his statement of fact right before stabbing Malucial in the leg. Malucial screams in pain. His dark magic aura closes in tighter around him and explodes, sending Raygar to the ground. Malucial pulls out the sword and prepares to strike Ragar. He stops right before contact.
“5th member you say?” Malucial nerviously questions. “Um, yes. I guess there are only four of you. I forgot.”
Gladra is in the middle of healing Logar from his injuries but replies “Yes, our companion is on his way and will turn the tide of this battle in our favor. He is the most powerful of our group.”
Malucial drops the sword and hastily says “I will, uh, need to read this prophecy again. So, you just wait here. Please excuse me, I will, uh, be back” While he speaks, smoke emanates from the dark aura covering him and when it dissipates, he is gone.
The group of heroes is confused that their foe would just disappear like that. Gladra looks around and sees that the orc army is just as confused by the seemingly hasty retreat. She is about to say something to the group when a familiar voice blurts out “Hope you guys didn’t miss me too much. I would hate to miss the party”
A short man in black robes comes up from behind the battle mounted on a black stead. His black hair waving in the air as he rides. Lightning shoots from his fingertips right in front of the orc army causing the army to run back into the woods.
“Mal!” the heroes yell in joy as he approaches.
“You missed it again!” Gladra scolds.
Mal jumps off his horse but almost falls over from a sword wound on his leg. “I can heal that” Gladra offers running over to Mal. “But where did you get that wound? You just got here.” She asks.
“I battled on the way here.” Mal says quickly.
“You always get us out of a bind my friend” Logar affectionately says as he hugs Mal. “I’m glad you are on our side” Logar feels something and pulls back from the embrace to tell Mal that there is an arrow in his back.
“I must have also gotten it on the way” Mal nervously retorts.
Gladra pulls it out and heals the wound. Logar picks it up curiously. “But it’s my arrow” he says showing it to Mal”
“That’s weird” Mal nervously laughs “Hey, I think I see Malucial over there!” Mal starts running toward the forest. The group starts chasing after him, except for Gladra who contemplates what Mal said.
“But we never told you his name.” Gladra calls to the group right before they disappear into the woods.
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Thinking back on it now, I can now say for cetain that this wasn't my most shining moment. I mean, okay....fair enough, I'm celebrated. I get the best spots to park my car, my boss is always full of praise, I can basically date whoever I want, whenever I want, if, of course, it's what I want. But I don't. I'm a hero; held on high for everyone, day in, day out. It's my job. You know what happens when you take a passion and make a carreer of it. It normalizes it and things that are normal no longer hold that spark they once did. Oh well. I particularly haven't enjoyed my work for the last six months.
I was sitting at the breakfast table eating oatmeal and strawberries when the red phone rang. I had used to jump up in excitement when it did, but not as much of late. I let it ring and instead chewed in time with it until I realized that I had been keeping pace alone. Suddenly, a fax spit out and I slumped, grabbed my bowl, rinsed it carefully out and sat it out to dry. I shuffled to the fax, tore it off and read:
Dark God underway. Meet team at Mt. Bethesda.
I could have replaced the words with any message and it would have had the same affect. I just couldn't care. I realized that I was burned out on the whole "superhero/save the world" thing. I needed a change, but just wasn't sure what it should be. Amazingly enough, I didn't have to think too hard about the next decision I made. I flopped on the couch, fired up Netflix and ignored it all. The next few days were a blendered mix of ice cream, movies and a healthy dose of self-pity. Nothing got through.
Until the door rang. It broke me out of my reverie. I hiked up my pyjama pants and went to answer it. When I did, my jaw hit the floor and I felt for the first time in days, possibly weeks. Shock, it was, but a feeling none the less. There in front of me stood the Dark God itself.
"Thank you," is all it said, then walked away. I was then approached by a cheering horde of creatures I'd never seen before. They hoisted me up and celebrated with me for weeks, introduced me to my new job saving demons and minions and showed me how the new system worked.
So now I'm here, not knowing exactly what I am, but unable to shake the whole hero thing. Really don't know if I'm cursed or blessed, but hey! at least I'm alive and thriving, which is more than I can say for others I knew.
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[WP] You are a time traveler entering a medieval tournament in which the winner gains the right to wed the princess. You're the first match and the king announces that you may use any weapon. Quickly you draw you're glock and shout "parry this you fucking casual"
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Here's the thing about plate armour. It is great at deflecting slashes. It might even be able to stop an arrow at long distance. But it sucks ass when it's up against a high velocity projectile that will distribute its' energy on a tiny area on the armour. Naturally, my savage opponent does not know this. After all, he's a medieval knight, trained in the art of war with hack and slash weapons. I'm a 21st century dude with a man-bun, and a degree in engineering, so the odds are somewhat in my favour, I'd say. Oh, and did I mention I had mandatory military training, and was able to time travel with a small arsenal of 21st century weapons? Yeah, I'd bet on me, too, if I could.
​
I size up my opponent, brandishing his lavishly decorated armour. It sure does look impressive. The golden details on it shine when the sunlight hits it just right. His red cape flowing in the wind. His ironclad warhorse would strike fear into the heart of any of these medieval people. Me? I drive an SUV in real life, which would turn this horse into fraudulently-labelled Lasagna meat without breaking a sweat.
​
From the corner of my eye, I see the princess blow my opponent a kiss. She obviously is hoping for him to win. I wonder why. The guy is truly a mountain of a man, but judging by the way he keeps throwing glances at the alchemist, I wouldn't be surprised if his gains were perhaps not all natural. His body somehow looks disproportionate. His biceps are huge, but his forearms are like twigs. Sir Synthol, indeed.
​
Fuck the medieval times, though. I travelled here for the tournament, in order to win the hand of one of the most magnificent creatures in history. I did not think about the fact I would not be able to amp myself up with my usual start of the day; a Machiato with Chia seeds using a triple shot of Soy milk. Nor do they have any vegan option food available. It's all pork this, lamb that, or other non-defined meats I wouldn't dare to wager a guess at the origins of. I can't wait to leave here and make a decent Kale shake when I come home.
​
The king indicates we are to proceed, and my opponent rides to the far end of the field, his horse steaming with sweat from under its plate and the tough woollen blanket underneath. He lowers his visor, while I calmly await on my side of the field on top of the pony I picked up earlier. She's an old work horse, and is currently acting up on my allergies. I attempted to lodge a complaint with the tournament organisation about discrimination of people with severe allergies, but they stared at me and questioned "mine sanity". One even offered to hook me up with the local maester for leech treatment. Yeah, no thanks.
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The king gives the signal, the flag drops, and my opponents' horse starts charging. His shield comes up, his lance comes down. My horse proceeds with alight tread, much to the amusement of the crowd. "Ser Bronie" they dubbed me. Let's see who has the last laugh once I unleash the fury of my arsenal on them. As the knight comes closer and closer, his lance now inching towards where he expects my heart to be in a few seconds, I pull my Glock, and calmly take aim at his head, and squeeze the trigger.
​
"BAM", it goes, with the echoes bouncing around the valley. As I watch the knight's helmet explode, brains and skull pieces blowing out the back like a meaty mist, I jump of my pony, that got startled by the gunshot. The pony wasn't the only one, though. The entire crowd, king and princess included cower. The only one who seems more intrigued than startled is the alchemist, who can be heard mumbling: "So it's true!". He has a massive grin on his face, and almost seems to be gleefully jolly.
​
The king just stares at his best knight's body, lying headless in the dirt, thick squirts of blood still oozing out of the neck. The look of disbelief on his face quickly turns to rage though, as he points a chubby finger my way. "KILL THAT MAN", he shouts, his guards quickly jumping back on their feet. Suddenly, I have to dodge arrows, spears and crossbow bolts. I make quick work of a few of the closest guards, and then point my weapon at the kind, telling him he's next unless he calls off his soldiers. Before the whiff of smoke from the last bullet disappears from the barrel of my Glock, the king does as ordered. His face is twisted into a murderous expression.
​
"Doest thou really expect me to marry off my daughter to the likes of you?", he proclaims. "Sire, those were the conditions of the tournament", I reply. "I won fair and square". "Fair?" yells the king. "FAIR? Sir, thou uses black magic to defeat my best knight. Thou costest me a fortune". The princess also has a terrified look on her face. "I want to marry a real knight, not some scrawny bookwurm such as thouself. Daddy, kill him!". The king gives a signal to his guards, and an arrow hits my knee from behind, dropping me to the floor. I take aim at the king, but when I press the trigger, my gun jams. At the same time, I feel a sword slash my side. Frantically, I try to kick the knight towering over me, using my best Yoga move. It's to no avail.
​
"But princess, I know that I love you", I exclaim. Her reply comes as yet another blow of a sword delivers the coup de grace. "You know nothing, Jon Snowflake".
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A glock was one of my favourite guns to weild, not by the power, but by one thing that has fascinated me.
It was the auto-fire.
A smirk formed on my lips, hearing the opponent in front of me charge with all his strength, sword pointed at my chest.
"Hail of Lead, coming right up!"
My voice shouted as I held down the trigger, sending a hailstorm of the poisonus metal towards the warrior. Seems that thin sheets isn't going to save you now.
Or so I thought.
The casual's armor deflected the bullets away from him. Dammit, should've read that post about armor. He is closing the distance, and thus I ran. People laughed at me, throwing their tomatoes like I am some sort of freak. Calm yourself. You can do this.
I then try again, switching back to single-shot, and with my expierence... time began to slow. My eyes fixated on the exposed neck, aimed the sight at it...
Then boom goes the primer.
Followed by the sound of pained screaming.
Followed by a sharp pain.
A sword was lodged inside me, blood slowly dripping out. I looked at the knight... and his lifeless body. Seems like my bullet pierced his neck, tearing jugular and spine. It was leaking like a fountain.
A sigh escaped my lips, as I shake my head in defeat.
Then darkness enveloped me.
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[WP] You are a time traveler entering a medieval tournament in which the winner gains the right to wed the princess. You're the first match and the king announces that you may use any weapon. Quickly you draw you're glock and shout "parry this you fucking casual"
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When I first jumped, the calculations were a bit wrong, I was supposed to go to 1827 for a job, but the engineer must have punched in the wrong date and I landed in 1287, the signal was too weak to pull me back. All I had to do was wait for them to create enough jump bridges to pull me back, after 27 years, I don’t think they are pulling me back, my paycheck would be too large to compensate.
I was known as ThunderKnignight, over 900 duels won, most respected and feared Knight in all the kingdoms.
Upon arrival, I knew that if I was caught, they would kill me for being a wizard. Knowing Greek was an advantage. I disguised myself as an Ancient Greek scholar, wrote some basic math books, and headed to the closed village and started “cultural exchange”. Enough backstory.
Thunder knight - 7ft tall, light half sword with a Glock strapped to it, and a round shield.
All the people knew I was blessed by God, every time I dueled, God would applaud with thunder from the sky.
The day was sunny and clean, I knew Sir. Bridgman III, I really did not want to kill him, but hell he was an amazing fighter, he would cut me in half.
The battle started, some tiptoeing, a few swings, blocks, I was going to try and beat him without firing my glock, but the old man hit like a truck. I knew things got serious when he threw his shield and Half-sword and picked up his zweihander and starts pounding my shield, his sword is too long, I can’t even get close enough to land one blow. The sun was setting, Sir. Bridgman is tired, as am I. I go in for a flurry of swings and shield bashes, no use, he parries every single Attack.
The cocky old man taunts me, “is this the best you got, I can parry all you weak attacks! And they call you thunder knight! More like the feather knight.
With anger and insult to my name I scream “parry this you filthy casual” do my iconic charge attack and pull the trigger.
....
The gods applaud with thunderous roar!
....
The old man dies before he hits the ground, center mass kill shot. I plunge my sword through the bullet hole to disguise it, pull my dagger, and strike again.
Turning to the roaring crowd I scream God Does not accept insults to his holy fighter on earth!
(Sorry for mistakes written on mobile)
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BLAM. BLAM. BLAM.
the shots resonated through the arena. The poor knight didn't have a chance. Blood seeped through two holes in his chestplate, mixing with brain fluid from the third hole in his helmet. Silence fell as he hit the ground.
I softly turned to the king, bowed deeply, and left at a swift pace as the murmurs began. I didn't want to get caught unprepared by a mob of terrified Saxons.
As I was leaving, my eyes met another competitor. A large barrel-bellied bloke, about a foot taller than me. He didn't seem scared, and that made me nervous. Did he know?
I got back to my tent, and pulled out my suitcase. Tossing the flock back, I looked at my arsenal. What should I use for round two? The glock would be too easy. Any of my explosives would be too risky. I can't justify too much collateral. Then I have an idea. I pull out the chainsaw.
Round two begins, and I'm the fifth match this time. I look across to my opponent. It's the guy I noticed earlier. I feel confident, but two things were off. One, that look from earlier was still there. He wasn't afraid. Two, the crowd had taken a disliking to me. That could make things awkward.
The fight begins, as I rev up the chainsaw. He rushes forward, no weapon visible. I bring the chainsaw up to stop him, but it never gets the chance to connect. I'm on the floor now, chainsaw idling several feet away. The roar from the crowd is deafening...
"what the fuck just happened??" I think. The big guy pulls out a small device (another time traveller? Shit.) and presses it to my forehead.
And everything goes black.
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[WP] You are a time traveler entering a medieval tournament in which the winner gains the right to wed the princess. You're the first match and the king announces that you may use any weapon. Quickly you draw you're glock and shout "parry this you fucking casual"
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She giggled and sat down down on the bed, finally all this ceremony, song, and dance was about to come to an end and I was about to claim my much anticipated prize. She slowly pulled her fancy dress up as she leaned back. I got on my knees, my hands running up her legs to her smooth silky thighs, with my head between her legs inching closer to my hard won spoils with my face. Then the smell hit me, and the reality of medieval hygiene hit me square in the nose like a sack of sun dried mud bricks.....
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BLAM. BLAM. BLAM.
the shots resonated through the arena. The poor knight didn't have a chance. Blood seeped through two holes in his chestplate, mixing with brain fluid from the third hole in his helmet. Silence fell as he hit the ground.
I softly turned to the king, bowed deeply, and left at a swift pace as the murmurs began. I didn't want to get caught unprepared by a mob of terrified Saxons.
As I was leaving, my eyes met another competitor. A large barrel-bellied bloke, about a foot taller than me. He didn't seem scared, and that made me nervous. Did he know?
I got back to my tent, and pulled out my suitcase. Tossing the flock back, I looked at my arsenal. What should I use for round two? The glock would be too easy. Any of my explosives would be too risky. I can't justify too much collateral. Then I have an idea. I pull out the chainsaw.
Round two begins, and I'm the fifth match this time. I look across to my opponent. It's the guy I noticed earlier. I feel confident, but two things were off. One, that look from earlier was still there. He wasn't afraid. Two, the crowd had taken a disliking to me. That could make things awkward.
The fight begins, as I rev up the chainsaw. He rushes forward, no weapon visible. I bring the chainsaw up to stop him, but it never gets the chance to connect. I'm on the floor now, chainsaw idling several feet away. The roar from the crowd is deafening...
"what the fuck just happened??" I think. The big guy pulls out a small device (another time traveller? Shit.) and presses it to my forehead.
And everything goes black.
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[WP] You are a time traveler entering a medieval tournament in which the winner gains the right to wed the princess. You're the first match and the king announces that you may use any weapon. Quickly you draw you're glock and shout "parry this you fucking casual"
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The explosion of the gun quieted the crowd. I had expected an eruption of screams and terror, but the only sound was the hard thud as the man hit the ground. An echo in the back of my head sounded, ‘I guess he bit the dust’ in my dads voice. The corner of my mouth turned up as I rolled my eyes.
Well, now’s a good a time as ever I suppose. I holstered my Glock 26 before I took off my helmet, allowing my sun-kissed blonde hair to fall out of its hasty twist and down over my shoulders. I could feel that it was matted and tangled near the bottom. ‘Stupid movies’ I thought as I ran my hand through my hair a few times. ‘They make you think this isn’t going to be a problem. Stupid models and their hair always cascading like a damn waterfall.’
As I turned around to face the crowd I finally was met with something I expected. Gasps and shouts of anger. “A woman!” Rippled throughout the audience. I walked toward the Royals seating area, smiling my recently brightened smile. No one tried to stop me as I cut the distance between myself and the princess, waving to the crowd seated on both sides.
As I approached I could see the stunned horror on the faces of nearly every person in the royal booth. The Queen looked like she was about to pass out, she had a maid fanning her wildly.
“Welp Princess, let’s go!”
“But I can’t marry you, you’re a lady!” She breathed, exasperated.
“I’d hardly consider myself a LADY under any circumstances” I said, exaggerating lady as I gestured my men’s clothing.
The King stood and looked back and forth from his daughter to me and back again. I thought he would yell, but he was actually pretty calm.
“Hello King Arnold,” I started. “My name is Charlotte, pleased to meet you.” I did a little curtsy in my ugly brown trousers.
“I read through the bylaws of the tournament and nowhere in there did it actually say that a female couldn’t compete. So I didn’t break any rules. I know, I know, I’m not exactly what you were expecting in a champion, but I promise I only have the best interest of the princess at heart.”
The king hardly moved to face me directly.
“Charlotte.”
It was the only thing he said for a moment.
“I think we had better all discuss this in private.”
“Does that mean you’re going to kill me behind closed doors?” I said as I pulled my hand up to rest over my holstered firearm.
“No!” It was the princess, now it was my turn to be shocked. “Nobody will kill you, right father?”
“Nobody will kill you,” he agreed
I was lead by two guards through the crowd to an entrance of the humble castle behind the royal family. As we entered and the front doors closed I called in front of me.
“Hey! Princess Teresa! Are you allowed to come back here and walk with me?”
She slowed for a moment and looked at her parents before stepping to the side to allow the other guards to pass her. One stayed with her as she waited for me to meet up with her.
“Sup girl,” I said excitedly.
“I’m sorry..... what did you say to me?” She said, not rudely.
“Just a version of hello where I’m from.”
“Where are you from?”
“Ohio”
“Ooohio. I’ve never heard of it, is it far?”
“Uhhhhh kinda?”
She took her time to look at me as we walked down the corridor. I could see her looking at my eyes taking in my make up and men’s clothing.
“Why did you do it? I have heard of women who fancy other women in rumors, but no one as bold to pretend to be a man to win the hand of a princess. You were bound to be found out eventually!”
“Oh, but princess!” I mocked astonishment, “the sight of you maid me swoon!”
She looked at me with confusion. I could tell she understood my sarcasm but wasn’t sure how to take it.
“I don’t fancy women.”
“What? Then why?!”
“Well. I mean, you’re young. You were just going to be handed off to some dude who killed a whole bunch of other dudes. Is that even something you wanted?”
“He would have been highly regarded throughout the kingdom.”
“That doesn’t answer my question and you know it. Did you want to be married to a man because he won a tournament?”
“No” she said slowly.
“That’s what I thought” I said shrugging. “You’re not going to become Queen, right?”
“No, I would not become Queen. My brother Gerald will be the next King after my father.”
“Do you want to be Queen?”
“Heavens no!” She said quickly. I was sort of surprised at her immediate response. “Father works so much and he is so loved in the kingdom. I’m not nearly as good hearted as him, and I don’t want to make decisions like he does. Gerald has trained his whole life to become King. He’ll never be as good as father, but he is well liked and is very smart. He will be a good king.”
“Do you want to be married?” I asked
“Yeeees” She drew the word out slowly
“That sounded like a no”
“I do want to be married! One day, but I want to go to France. And if I marry I will become my husbands wife, and my duty will be to him.”
I was right. Thank God. What girl wanted to be married off to a stranger. Probably none, but on the off chance I was wrong and disrupted a whole tournament I was going to feel a little bad.
“That’s why I did it. You deserve to do what you want. Marriage can come later, when you’re ready. And preferably with someone you choose.”
She looked at me in complete astonishment. “You did this for me?!”
“Yep!” I smiled deviously. “Now, let’s discuss how we can get your father to let us go to France!”
Edit: grammar
Update: working on a better ending, but coincidentally getting ready for a bridal shower, so I’m cut short on time!
|
BLAM. BLAM. BLAM.
the shots resonated through the arena. The poor knight didn't have a chance. Blood seeped through two holes in his chestplate, mixing with brain fluid from the third hole in his helmet. Silence fell as he hit the ground.
I softly turned to the king, bowed deeply, and left at a swift pace as the murmurs began. I didn't want to get caught unprepared by a mob of terrified Saxons.
As I was leaving, my eyes met another competitor. A large barrel-bellied bloke, about a foot taller than me. He didn't seem scared, and that made me nervous. Did he know?
I got back to my tent, and pulled out my suitcase. Tossing the flock back, I looked at my arsenal. What should I use for round two? The glock would be too easy. Any of my explosives would be too risky. I can't justify too much collateral. Then I have an idea. I pull out the chainsaw.
Round two begins, and I'm the fifth match this time. I look across to my opponent. It's the guy I noticed earlier. I feel confident, but two things were off. One, that look from earlier was still there. He wasn't afraid. Two, the crowd had taken a disliking to me. That could make things awkward.
The fight begins, as I rev up the chainsaw. He rushes forward, no weapon visible. I bring the chainsaw up to stop him, but it never gets the chance to connect. I'm on the floor now, chainsaw idling several feet away. The roar from the crowd is deafening...
"what the fuck just happened??" I think. The big guy pulls out a small device (another time traveller? Shit.) and presses it to my forehead.
And everything goes black.
|
|
[WP] You are a time traveler entering a medieval tournament in which the winner gains the right to wed the princess. You're the first match and the king announces that you may use any weapon. Quickly you draw you're glock and shout "parry this you fucking casual"
|
She giggled and sat down down on the bed, finally all this ceremony, song, and dance was about to come to an end and I was about to claim my much anticipated prize. She slowly pulled her fancy dress up as she leaned back. I got on my knees, my hands running up her legs to her smooth silky thighs, with my head between her legs inching closer to my hard won spoils with my face. Then the smell hit me, and the reality of medieval hygiene hit me square in the nose like a sack of sun dried mud bricks.....
|
The click of the trigger, was followed by a loud bang. The crowd was speechless, it felt like the time has stopped. I could feel the bullets cutting the air going towards it's intended target. The poor warrior who wouldn't know what hit him.
As new it seemed, it felt like I had experienced it before. Since childhood sometimes I had dreams about this encounter. In an arena, fighting for princess' hand. I having the clear advantage of my futuristic weapons.
Then I heard a another loud sound, the sound of bullet piercing the Armor, the blood stain starting to grow. I knew he was dead and focused on another person.
But it was different, everything was really stopped now. I was envisioning my entire life in front of me, all my decisions which led me to this moment.
Slowly I started to fade away, into nothingness. I couldn't understand what was happening.
I closed my eyes, accepting my fate and merging with universe. I took one last breath.
I opened my eyes in an arena fighting for the hand of the princess' in mediaeval times. Little did they know I could time travel and bought my favourite weapon from my time, a glock. Literally bringing gun to a knife fight. I looked at my first victim and fired.
The click of the trigger, was followed by a loud bang....
First time writing, be gentle please :)
|
|
[WP] You are a time traveler entering a medieval tournament in which the winner gains the right to wed the princess. You're the first match and the king announces that you may use any weapon. Quickly you draw you're glock and shout "parry this you fucking casual"
|
The explosion of the gun quieted the crowd. I had expected an eruption of screams and terror, but the only sound was the hard thud as the man hit the ground. An echo in the back of my head sounded, ‘I guess he bit the dust’ in my dads voice. The corner of my mouth turned up as I rolled my eyes.
Well, now’s a good a time as ever I suppose. I holstered my Glock 26 before I took off my helmet, allowing my sun-kissed blonde hair to fall out of its hasty twist and down over my shoulders. I could feel that it was matted and tangled near the bottom. ‘Stupid movies’ I thought as I ran my hand through my hair a few times. ‘They make you think this isn’t going to be a problem. Stupid models and their hair always cascading like a damn waterfall.’
As I turned around to face the crowd I finally was met with something I expected. Gasps and shouts of anger. “A woman!” Rippled throughout the audience. I walked toward the Royals seating area, smiling my recently brightened smile. No one tried to stop me as I cut the distance between myself and the princess, waving to the crowd seated on both sides.
As I approached I could see the stunned horror on the faces of nearly every person in the royal booth. The Queen looked like she was about to pass out, she had a maid fanning her wildly.
“Welp Princess, let’s go!”
“But I can’t marry you, you’re a lady!” She breathed, exasperated.
“I’d hardly consider myself a LADY under any circumstances” I said, exaggerating lady as I gestured my men’s clothing.
The King stood and looked back and forth from his daughter to me and back again. I thought he would yell, but he was actually pretty calm.
“Hello King Arnold,” I started. “My name is Charlotte, pleased to meet you.” I did a little curtsy in my ugly brown trousers.
“I read through the bylaws of the tournament and nowhere in there did it actually say that a female couldn’t compete. So I didn’t break any rules. I know, I know, I’m not exactly what you were expecting in a champion, but I promise I only have the best interest of the princess at heart.”
The king hardly moved to face me directly.
“Charlotte.”
It was the only thing he said for a moment.
“I think we had better all discuss this in private.”
“Does that mean you’re going to kill me behind closed doors?” I said as I pulled my hand up to rest over my holstered firearm.
“No!” It was the princess, now it was my turn to be shocked. “Nobody will kill you, right father?”
“Nobody will kill you,” he agreed
I was lead by two guards through the crowd to an entrance of the humble castle behind the royal family. As we entered and the front doors closed I called in front of me.
“Hey! Princess Teresa! Are you allowed to come back here and walk with me?”
She slowed for a moment and looked at her parents before stepping to the side to allow the other guards to pass her. One stayed with her as she waited for me to meet up with her.
“Sup girl,” I said excitedly.
“I’m sorry..... what did you say to me?” She said, not rudely.
“Just a version of hello where I’m from.”
“Where are you from?”
“Ohio”
“Ooohio. I’ve never heard of it, is it far?”
“Uhhhhh kinda?”
She took her time to look at me as we walked down the corridor. I could see her looking at my eyes taking in my make up and men’s clothing.
“Why did you do it? I have heard of women who fancy other women in rumors, but no one as bold to pretend to be a man to win the hand of a princess. You were bound to be found out eventually!”
“Oh, but princess!” I mocked astonishment, “the sight of you maid me swoon!”
She looked at me with confusion. I could tell she understood my sarcasm but wasn’t sure how to take it.
“I don’t fancy women.”
“What? Then why?!”
“Well. I mean, you’re young. You were just going to be handed off to some dude who killed a whole bunch of other dudes. Is that even something you wanted?”
“He would have been highly regarded throughout the kingdom.”
“That doesn’t answer my question and you know it. Did you want to be married to a man because he won a tournament?”
“No” she said slowly.
“That’s what I thought” I said shrugging. “You’re not going to become Queen, right?”
“No, I would not become Queen. My brother Gerald will be the next King after my father.”
“Do you want to be Queen?”
“Heavens no!” She said quickly. I was sort of surprised at her immediate response. “Father works so much and he is so loved in the kingdom. I’m not nearly as good hearted as him, and I don’t want to make decisions like he does. Gerald has trained his whole life to become King. He’ll never be as good as father, but he is well liked and is very smart. He will be a good king.”
“Do you want to be married?” I asked
“Yeeees” She drew the word out slowly
“That sounded like a no”
“I do want to be married! One day, but I want to go to France. And if I marry I will become my husbands wife, and my duty will be to him.”
I was right. Thank God. What girl wanted to be married off to a stranger. Probably none, but on the off chance I was wrong and disrupted a whole tournament I was going to feel a little bad.
“That’s why I did it. You deserve to do what you want. Marriage can come later, when you’re ready. And preferably with someone you choose.”
She looked at me in complete astonishment. “You did this for me?!”
“Yep!” I smiled deviously. “Now, let’s discuss how we can get your father to let us go to France!”
Edit: grammar
Update: working on a better ending, but coincidentally getting ready for a bridal shower, so I’m cut short on time!
|
The click of the trigger, was followed by a loud bang. The crowd was speechless, it felt like the time has stopped. I could feel the bullets cutting the air going towards it's intended target. The poor warrior who wouldn't know what hit him.
As new it seemed, it felt like I had experienced it before. Since childhood sometimes I had dreams about this encounter. In an arena, fighting for princess' hand. I having the clear advantage of my futuristic weapons.
Then I heard a another loud sound, the sound of bullet piercing the Armor, the blood stain starting to grow. I knew he was dead and focused on another person.
But it was different, everything was really stopped now. I was envisioning my entire life in front of me, all my decisions which led me to this moment.
Slowly I started to fade away, into nothingness. I couldn't understand what was happening.
I closed my eyes, accepting my fate and merging with universe. I took one last breath.
I opened my eyes in an arena fighting for the hand of the princess' in mediaeval times. Little did they know I could time travel and bought my favourite weapon from my time, a glock. Literally bringing gun to a knife fight. I looked at my first victim and fired.
The click of the trigger, was followed by a loud bang....
First time writing, be gentle please :)
|
|
[WP] You are a time traveler entering a medieval tournament in which the winner gains the right to wed the princess. You're the first match and the king announces that you may use any weapon. Quickly you draw you're glock and shout "parry this you fucking casual"
|
She giggled and sat down down on the bed, finally all this ceremony, song, and dance was about to come to an end and I was about to claim my much anticipated prize. She slowly pulled her fancy dress up as she leaned back. I got on my knees, my hands running up her legs to her smooth silky thighs, with my head between her legs inching closer to my hard won spoils with my face. Then the smell hit me, and the reality of medieval hygiene hit me square in the nose like a sack of sun dried mud bricks.....
|
I shot and killed him without mercy. What else is there to say? It was easy to kill this poor dumb ass snow flake. If only he was a good guy with a gun he could have stopped me.
​
Journal Entry 201
​
I now realize there was no such thing as a good guy with a gun. I was literally the only person with a gun. Did I introduce some sort of causality loop where we all hope that guns will solve the problems of guns?
​
Journal Entry 307
​
There are so many guns now. What the fuck? I was having a blast hoarding my technological power over all these dip shits but somehow they stole one of my guns and were able to reverse engineer them. This isn't fun anymore. These medieval peasants are crazy!! They keep murdering people indiscriminately! Why wouldn't they give guns to good guys??
​
Journal Entry 437
​
The world seems to have righted itself. It took some time but I was able to find and destroy all the simple minded peasants with guns. I was able to kill and or disarm them all. Now I can make sure only good guys will have guns.
|
|
[WP] You are a time traveler entering a medieval tournament in which the winner gains the right to wed the princess. You're the first match and the king announces that you may use any weapon. Quickly you draw you're glock and shout "parry this you fucking casual"
|
The blast echoed across the tournament grounds for an eternity as the once proud knight lay cold and motionless as stone.
With the music stopped, and the crowd quiet, the traveler gazes to the royal balcony in search for his prize. Though he hasn't quite won yet, it seems doubtful another knight will enter this ring.
"Ah, there you are, my lady!" said the traveler.
At his words, the crowd seemed poised to find cover. Realizing this, the traveler quickly adds a low and respectful bow.
The traveler takes his time addressing the royal court in turn, saving the King for last, hoping to make the best impression with a little lead-up.
"And lastly, most nobly, you maj-" as the traveler begins to address the king, he notices an old man standing beside the king's throne, just over his right shoulder. was my intel wrong...wait...who...
"That spell you spoke earlier, where did you learn it?" said the old man, making his way to the balconies edge, stepping in front of the royal court without pause for ceremony. In the sunlight, the white-bearded man had a surprisingly childlike visage. "PARYTHISU--FUKINCASHUhL" Merlin tested the incantation, then looked back down at the old man from atop his perch...
|
I shot and killed him without mercy. What else is there to say? It was easy to kill this poor dumb ass snow flake. If only he was a good guy with a gun he could have stopped me.
​
Journal Entry 201
​
I now realize there was no such thing as a good guy with a gun. I was literally the only person with a gun. Did I introduce some sort of causality loop where we all hope that guns will solve the problems of guns?
​
Journal Entry 307
​
There are so many guns now. What the fuck? I was having a blast hoarding my technological power over all these dip shits but somehow they stole one of my guns and were able to reverse engineer them. This isn't fun anymore. These medieval peasants are crazy!! They keep murdering people indiscriminately! Why wouldn't they give guns to good guys??
​
Journal Entry 437
​
The world seems to have righted itself. It took some time but I was able to find and destroy all the simple minded peasants with guns. I was able to kill and or disarm them all. Now I can make sure only good guys will have guns.
|
|
[WP] You are a time traveler entering a medieval tournament in which the winner gains the right to wed the princess. You're the first match and the king announces that you may use any weapon. Quickly you draw you're glock and shout "parry this you fucking casual"
|
There may have been a million of me running around. Everything from eating a whole chicken with some Vikings to figuring out who gets the ‘honour’ of putting the Egyptian cat goddess into the pyramids to trap them beneath the sands. Oh, I do so hope that I *lose* that Honour.
Recently, a teenaged me was in the Holy Roman Empire. A fun place, no doubt, especially for someone with a thick Old Prussian accent. Why do I have that? Not important. At any rate, I was just eating a sandwich at a sandwich shoppe when I saw the poster. *’Why is there a poster in medieval Germany?’* I asked myself in my head. ‘*It’s not like half the people can read.’* Reading it over, I realized that it must’ve been placed as a reminder for me, as it was written in the language of the gods (Croatian) and also very snarky and sarcastic. If ever I see the me who wrote that, I’m gonna punch him in the dick, the cheeky bastard.
The poster explained the tournament, and I figured that it would be good to work off the calories from my steak on a Kaiser. Now, before you say that it doesn’t exist, let me mention that I don’t either. That, and I may or may not have hired sophisticated robots to set up food places. You’ll thank me when they evolve into McDonald’s.
So I entered my name into the tournament, which was a bit tricky, as I couldn’t remember which flavour of German I’m supposed to speak. I was laughed at a bit, because I had never been seen before, and probably because I was only about nineteen. These Knights were ready to kill me. I was thinking of how I could prolong that when we were introduced to the prize; the Kaiser’s daughter, Wulfhilde. *’Yeah, I’d kill for her,’* I thought to myself, looking my opponents over. Had I been the poetic sort, I may have used words like ‘golden waterfalls of hair’ or ‘face like the fresh winter snowfall’. I am, however, not a complete sap, so I won’t be saying that.
One of my prides in my early life was the handmade armour of Ornstein, from the *Dark Souls* series. I had begun forging it soon after I had acquired my time machine, and it took many years to finish. Because of this, I would not be using it in the fight. Instead, I put on a standard suit of platemail armour. For some extra flair, I donned a cloak as well. Next, I picked my sword, this time a long katana in a red sheath with a red handle. I had found it in feudal Japan, alongside the skeleton of a dude with a very nice orange coat. Then, for added insurance, I put on my holster and slipped my Glock 17 into it.
The first battle was against ‘Ouroboros’, master of the parry. He proved it well, for every time I swung my katana, he would deflect with expert precision. I got fed up with that quick and whipped out my gun.
“Parry this you fucking casul!” And I plugged him four times. The poor knight fell to the ground, dead. The audience gasped, so I quickly held up the gun and shouted,
“Behold! The power of God!” Another knight had nimbly leapt onto the field. I don’t believe he was supposed to. I holstered my gun, picked up my sword, and got into my stance. We fought for about thirteen seconds before I knocked his helmet off to reveal that he was a She. This caused even more gasps, not in the least bit from me, for I recognized her.
“Štraźa! What the hell are you doing? And what the hell are you doing *here*?” She sighed, and pointed the sword at my neck.
“Stopping you from fucking up everything, like I always have to do!” Her Polish accent was even more prominent because of her anger. I always found it cute.
“I cannot let you marry the young Kaiserin,” she explained, and I could tell by where the blade was that I would have to choose my words carefully. She wasn’t joking. So, I could either joke myself and have my neck spilled onto the sands, or I could play it cool.
“Why not? Can you explain any better?” I ask, stepping slightly back from the sword.
“You’re the insane idiot who learns history from Sabaton and Reddit! You tell me what’s going to happen when you take total control over *GERMANY*!” I couldn’t argue that point.
“Right. I’ll just… be… going home then?” Was that a drop of blood or sweat, crawling down my throat?
“Nie, you’re coming with me. I’m the only one who can stop *them* from imprisoning you, *again*.” I shrug, and let her drag me into the portal she had formed.
“Those poor Germans must be very confused right now,” I mutter, and pray to whatever god hasn’t been locked away that Štraźa actually has my back for this one.
|
I shot and killed him without mercy. What else is there to say? It was easy to kill this poor dumb ass snow flake. If only he was a good guy with a gun he could have stopped me.
​
Journal Entry 201
​
I now realize there was no such thing as a good guy with a gun. I was literally the only person with a gun. Did I introduce some sort of causality loop where we all hope that guns will solve the problems of guns?
​
Journal Entry 307
​
There are so many guns now. What the fuck? I was having a blast hoarding my technological power over all these dip shits but somehow they stole one of my guns and were able to reverse engineer them. This isn't fun anymore. These medieval peasants are crazy!! They keep murdering people indiscriminately! Why wouldn't they give guns to good guys??
​
Journal Entry 437
​
The world seems to have righted itself. It took some time but I was able to find and destroy all the simple minded peasants with guns. I was able to kill and or disarm them all. Now I can make sure only good guys will have guns.
|
|
[WP] You are a time traveler entering a medieval tournament in which the winner gains the right to wed the princess. You're the first match and the king announces that you may use any weapon. Quickly you draw you're glock and shout "parry this you fucking casual"
|
The explosion of the gun quieted the crowd. I had expected an eruption of screams and terror, but the only sound was the hard thud as the man hit the ground. An echo in the back of my head sounded, ‘I guess he bit the dust’ in my dads voice. The corner of my mouth turned up as I rolled my eyes.
Well, now’s a good a time as ever I suppose. I holstered my Glock 26 before I took off my helmet, allowing my sun-kissed blonde hair to fall out of its hasty twist and down over my shoulders. I could feel that it was matted and tangled near the bottom. ‘Stupid movies’ I thought as I ran my hand through my hair a few times. ‘They make you think this isn’t going to be a problem. Stupid models and their hair always cascading like a damn waterfall.’
As I turned around to face the crowd I finally was met with something I expected. Gasps and shouts of anger. “A woman!” Rippled throughout the audience. I walked toward the Royals seating area, smiling my recently brightened smile. No one tried to stop me as I cut the distance between myself and the princess, waving to the crowd seated on both sides.
As I approached I could see the stunned horror on the faces of nearly every person in the royal booth. The Queen looked like she was about to pass out, she had a maid fanning her wildly.
“Welp Princess, let’s go!”
“But I can’t marry you, you’re a lady!” She breathed, exasperated.
“I’d hardly consider myself a LADY under any circumstances” I said, exaggerating lady as I gestured my men’s clothing.
The King stood and looked back and forth from his daughter to me and back again. I thought he would yell, but he was actually pretty calm.
“Hello King Arnold,” I started. “My name is Charlotte, pleased to meet you.” I did a little curtsy in my ugly brown trousers.
“I read through the bylaws of the tournament and nowhere in there did it actually say that a female couldn’t compete. So I didn’t break any rules. I know, I know, I’m not exactly what you were expecting in a champion, but I promise I only have the best interest of the princess at heart.”
The king hardly moved to face me directly.
“Charlotte.”
It was the only thing he said for a moment.
“I think we had better all discuss this in private.”
“Does that mean you’re going to kill me behind closed doors?” I said as I pulled my hand up to rest over my holstered firearm.
“No!” It was the princess, now it was my turn to be shocked. “Nobody will kill you, right father?”
“Nobody will kill you,” he agreed
I was lead by two guards through the crowd to an entrance of the humble castle behind the royal family. As we entered and the front doors closed I called in front of me.
“Hey! Princess Teresa! Are you allowed to come back here and walk with me?”
She slowed for a moment and looked at her parents before stepping to the side to allow the other guards to pass her. One stayed with her as she waited for me to meet up with her.
“Sup girl,” I said excitedly.
“I’m sorry..... what did you say to me?” She said, not rudely.
“Just a version of hello where I’m from.”
“Where are you from?”
“Ohio”
“Ooohio. I’ve never heard of it, is it far?”
“Uhhhhh kinda?”
She took her time to look at me as we walked down the corridor. I could see her looking at my eyes taking in my make up and men’s clothing.
“Why did you do it? I have heard of women who fancy other women in rumors, but no one as bold to pretend to be a man to win the hand of a princess. You were bound to be found out eventually!”
“Oh, but princess!” I mocked astonishment, “the sight of you maid me swoon!”
She looked at me with confusion. I could tell she understood my sarcasm but wasn’t sure how to take it.
“I don’t fancy women.”
“What? Then why?!”
“Well. I mean, you’re young. You were just going to be handed off to some dude who killed a whole bunch of other dudes. Is that even something you wanted?”
“He would have been highly regarded throughout the kingdom.”
“That doesn’t answer my question and you know it. Did you want to be married to a man because he won a tournament?”
“No” she said slowly.
“That’s what I thought” I said shrugging. “You’re not going to become Queen, right?”
“No, I would not become Queen. My brother Gerald will be the next King after my father.”
“Do you want to be Queen?”
“Heavens no!” She said quickly. I was sort of surprised at her immediate response. “Father works so much and he is so loved in the kingdom. I’m not nearly as good hearted as him, and I don’t want to make decisions like he does. Gerald has trained his whole life to become King. He’ll never be as good as father, but he is well liked and is very smart. He will be a good king.”
“Do you want to be married?” I asked
“Yeeees” She drew the word out slowly
“That sounded like a no”
“I do want to be married! One day, but I want to go to France. And if I marry I will become my husbands wife, and my duty will be to him.”
I was right. Thank God. What girl wanted to be married off to a stranger. Probably none, but on the off chance I was wrong and disrupted a whole tournament I was going to feel a little bad.
“That’s why I did it. You deserve to do what you want. Marriage can come later, when you’re ready. And preferably with someone you choose.”
She looked at me in complete astonishment. “You did this for me?!”
“Yep!” I smiled deviously. “Now, let’s discuss how we can get your father to let us go to France!”
Edit: grammar
Update: working on a better ending, but coincidentally getting ready for a bridal shower, so I’m cut short on time!
|
I shot and killed him without mercy. What else is there to say? It was easy to kill this poor dumb ass snow flake. If only he was a good guy with a gun he could have stopped me.
​
Journal Entry 201
​
I now realize there was no such thing as a good guy with a gun. I was literally the only person with a gun. Did I introduce some sort of causality loop where we all hope that guns will solve the problems of guns?
​
Journal Entry 307
​
There are so many guns now. What the fuck? I was having a blast hoarding my technological power over all these dip shits but somehow they stole one of my guns and were able to reverse engineer them. This isn't fun anymore. These medieval peasants are crazy!! They keep murdering people indiscriminately! Why wouldn't they give guns to good guys??
​
Journal Entry 437
​
The world seems to have righted itself. It took some time but I was able to find and destroy all the simple minded peasants with guns. I was able to kill and or disarm them all. Now I can make sure only good guys will have guns.
|
|
[WP] You are a time traveler entering a medieval tournament in which the winner gains the right to wed the princess. You're the first match and the king announces that you may use any weapon. Quickly you draw you're glock and shout "parry this you fucking casual"
|
The second I pulled the trigger, I knew something was wrong. Just something about the way he looked at me before I even drew my gun was unsettling... Not once did he look me in the eye, he only ever looked at my lower torso and occasionally his eyes would dart back and forth, and it was only after I fired my shot it dawned on me why. The entire time, his gaze followed the barrel of my gun, and his eyes were scanning what seemed to be the trajectory of the bullet. He knew what I was going to do. He knew where I’d kept my gun. He knew where the bullet would travel...
Cling. His sword, unsheathed from somewhere, had split the bullet clean in two. This fucking casual parried it. “Block this you fucking peasant” he sneered. He raised his sword and charged, straight at my face.
There was no need to block his sword, however. It didn’t matter what he knew about guns that he wasn’t supposed to know about, no one could survive a hail of bullets at close range, and that was exactly what my gun was capable of. I switched the gun to full auto and sprayed. He flew backwards, sword still raised, his chest now a mangled mess of flesh and bone. “Fucking time travellers” he muttered as he let out his last breath.
As for I, I never intended on marrying a princess. Heck, why would I even stay in this time period? It sucks. The only reason I came here was to mess around with dumb people of the past. Looking back on it though, I may have went a little overboard... as now people were fully convinced that witches and wizards existed... and a lot of innocent people have been burned to death or drowned. Whoops.
|
I shot and killed him without mercy. What else is there to say? It was easy to kill this poor dumb ass snow flake. If only he was a good guy with a gun he could have stopped me.
​
Journal Entry 201
​
I now realize there was no such thing as a good guy with a gun. I was literally the only person with a gun. Did I introduce some sort of causality loop where we all hope that guns will solve the problems of guns?
​
Journal Entry 307
​
There are so many guns now. What the fuck? I was having a blast hoarding my technological power over all these dip shits but somehow they stole one of my guns and were able to reverse engineer them. This isn't fun anymore. These medieval peasants are crazy!! They keep murdering people indiscriminately! Why wouldn't they give guns to good guys??
​
Journal Entry 437
​
The world seems to have righted itself. It took some time but I was able to find and destroy all the simple minded peasants with guns. I was able to kill and or disarm them all. Now I can make sure only good guys will have guns.
|
|
[WP] You are a time traveler entering a medieval tournament in which the winner gains the right to wed the princess. You're the first match and the king announces that you may use any weapon. Quickly you draw you're glock and shout "parry this you fucking casual"
|
The kings daughter was admittedly ‘to die for’, but I had no intention of actually doing it.
The time travel thing was getting kind of boring after the first few dozen trips back. ‘Don’t talk to anyone’, ‘don’t leave anything behind’, ‘don’t make friends’, and on and on. If I had known all ‘the rules’ from the start maybe I would have saved my money and just visited Venus, again. Who am I kidding? the potential for the ultimate power trip, being superior to the primitive peasants of the past, was addictive and fuck me if I wasn’t addicted.
So after my 44th trip back, I was making promises of payment I had no intention or ability to keep. Remember: addict. This time would be the last time. Fuck the rules, I’m taking my great grandfathers antique handgun back with me and finally demonstrate my superiority for all to see. So I jumped back to my favorite era of knights and kings. I signed up for the local harvest knight tourney, drew first match, oh joy! As the white knight charged, I reached for my gun and yelled some phrase I heard on the history holograms ‘something about a casual somethjng’. I aimed, pulled the trigger repeatedly, and.....missed every goddamn time.
Looks like I’ll be dying for the princess after all. Wonder if this will affect the space time conti.....:slice, thud:
|
I shot and killed him without mercy. What else is there to say? It was easy to kill this poor dumb ass snow flake. If only he was a good guy with a gun he could have stopped me.
​
Journal Entry 201
​
I now realize there was no such thing as a good guy with a gun. I was literally the only person with a gun. Did I introduce some sort of causality loop where we all hope that guns will solve the problems of guns?
​
Journal Entry 307
​
There are so many guns now. What the fuck? I was having a blast hoarding my technological power over all these dip shits but somehow they stole one of my guns and were able to reverse engineer them. This isn't fun anymore. These medieval peasants are crazy!! They keep murdering people indiscriminately! Why wouldn't they give guns to good guys??
​
Journal Entry 437
​
The world seems to have righted itself. It took some time but I was able to find and destroy all the simple minded peasants with guns. I was able to kill and or disarm them all. Now I can make sure only good guys will have guns.
|
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[WP] You are a time traveler entering a medieval tournament in which the winner gains the right to wed the princess. You're the first match and the king announces that you may use any weapon. Quickly you draw you're glock and shout "parry this you fucking casual"
|
“Crack”
The sound heard across not only the field, but the whole country, as onlookers watched in disbelief as their final champion of hit the ground with a disappointing thud. The barbaric crowd, in uproarious applause at the path of death and destruction I had laid before them chanted for more, almost begging.
I turned to the king, clutching the source of my ‘power’ and staring him dead in the eye.
I needed this woman, this ‘princess’. The gem she carried around her neck was my way out of this primitive shit hole, there was not a man on earth that could put a barrier between me and getting back home.
“Now, give me what I earned.”
The crowd looked horrified, in disbelief, how could someone dare talk to their king this way, what kind of a leader would simply let that occur?
“Peasant, address me in the way you ‘ought to! That is my daughter! And I am your king!”
...
“Crack”
The sound heard across not only the field, but the whole country, as onlookers watched in horror and disbelief as their mighty king hit the floor with a disappointing thud.
|
I shot and killed him without mercy. What else is there to say? It was easy to kill this poor dumb ass snow flake. If only he was a good guy with a gun he could have stopped me.
​
Journal Entry 201
​
I now realize there was no such thing as a good guy with a gun. I was literally the only person with a gun. Did I introduce some sort of causality loop where we all hope that guns will solve the problems of guns?
​
Journal Entry 307
​
There are so many guns now. What the fuck? I was having a blast hoarding my technological power over all these dip shits but somehow they stole one of my guns and were able to reverse engineer them. This isn't fun anymore. These medieval peasants are crazy!! They keep murdering people indiscriminately! Why wouldn't they give guns to good guys??
​
Journal Entry 437
​
The world seems to have righted itself. It took some time but I was able to find and destroy all the simple minded peasants with guns. I was able to kill and or disarm them all. Now I can make sure only good guys will have guns.
|
|
[WP] You are a time traveler entering a medieval tournament in which the winner gains the right to wed the princess. You're the first match and the king announces that you may use any weapon. Quickly you draw you're glock and shout "parry this you fucking casual"
|
Men are dumb. Let me count the ways.
First of all, they assume that having a tournament where they bash each other's heads in is a good way to charm a woman like me. Like I'm some kind of prize to be claimed by the "winner", and would just kind of go along with it. Don't they realise I'm an actual princess, with the legal power to actually cut their heads off? No, they don't realise it. Men are dumb.
Secondly, they think that I'd be amazed that a so-called knight might pull out a Glock at a jousting tournament. Moron. Time travel exists. Everyone from the future who ends up in a medieval tournament tries something like this, and thinks they're the first one who did. But once time travel is invented, it's not long before it's cheap enough to be sold into the mass market, and then whichever time period is popular in the imagination gets flooded with visitors. Particularly to my year. Particularly to my tournaments. Particularly by men with Glocks. And they think they're the first. Men are dumb.
And finally, and most importantly, they think that the spectators at a medieval tournament have only experienced mediaeval times. Not me. I've come home after getting a degree from Bryn Mawr in the year 2173. I have my own Glock. The only thing I don't have is a working time machine to ride back out and explore the rest of time again. All I needed was someone from the future dumb enough to show up with a time machine. That's why we put the competition on in the first place.
I can't wait for this tournament to be over, and the guards to have taken care of our visitor. I want to visit the robotics factories of Gaborone, Botswana, in the year 2517. I want to visit the Great Barrier Reef in Australia at its ecological peak in 1995. I want to gather all the knowledge I can to protect the realm from time travelling tourists, and ensure that we're not dumb.
Certainly not as dumb as this walking dead man with the Glock.
|
I shot and killed him without mercy. What else is there to say? It was easy to kill this poor dumb ass snow flake. If only he was a good guy with a gun he could have stopped me.
​
Journal Entry 201
​
I now realize there was no such thing as a good guy with a gun. I was literally the only person with a gun. Did I introduce some sort of causality loop where we all hope that guns will solve the problems of guns?
​
Journal Entry 307
​
There are so many guns now. What the fuck? I was having a blast hoarding my technological power over all these dip shits but somehow they stole one of my guns and were able to reverse engineer them. This isn't fun anymore. These medieval peasants are crazy!! They keep murdering people indiscriminately! Why wouldn't they give guns to good guys??
​
Journal Entry 437
​
The world seems to have righted itself. It took some time but I was able to find and destroy all the simple minded peasants with guns. I was able to kill and or disarm them all. Now I can make sure only good guys will have guns.
|
|
[WP] You are a time traveler entering a medieval tournament in which the winner gains the right to wed the princess. You're the first match and the king announces that you may use any weapon. Quickly you draw you're glock and shout "parry this you fucking casual"
|
There may have been a million of me running around. Everything from eating a whole chicken with some Vikings to figuring out who gets the ‘honour’ of putting the Egyptian cat goddess into the pyramids to trap them beneath the sands. Oh, I do so hope that I *lose* that Honour.
Recently, a teenaged me was in the Holy Roman Empire. A fun place, no doubt, especially for someone with a thick Old Prussian accent. Why do I have that? Not important. At any rate, I was just eating a sandwich at a sandwich shoppe when I saw the poster. *’Why is there a poster in medieval Germany?’* I asked myself in my head. ‘*It’s not like half the people can read.’* Reading it over, I realized that it must’ve been placed as a reminder for me, as it was written in the language of the gods (Croatian) and also very snarky and sarcastic. If ever I see the me who wrote that, I’m gonna punch him in the dick, the cheeky bastard.
The poster explained the tournament, and I figured that it would be good to work off the calories from my steak on a Kaiser. Now, before you say that it doesn’t exist, let me mention that I don’t either. That, and I may or may not have hired sophisticated robots to set up food places. You’ll thank me when they evolve into McDonald’s.
So I entered my name into the tournament, which was a bit tricky, as I couldn’t remember which flavour of German I’m supposed to speak. I was laughed at a bit, because I had never been seen before, and probably because I was only about nineteen. These Knights were ready to kill me. I was thinking of how I could prolong that when we were introduced to the prize; the Kaiser’s daughter, Wulfhilde. *’Yeah, I’d kill for her,’* I thought to myself, looking my opponents over. Had I been the poetic sort, I may have used words like ‘golden waterfalls of hair’ or ‘face like the fresh winter snowfall’. I am, however, not a complete sap, so I won’t be saying that.
One of my prides in my early life was the handmade armour of Ornstein, from the *Dark Souls* series. I had begun forging it soon after I had acquired my time machine, and it took many years to finish. Because of this, I would not be using it in the fight. Instead, I put on a standard suit of platemail armour. For some extra flair, I donned a cloak as well. Next, I picked my sword, this time a long katana in a red sheath with a red handle. I had found it in feudal Japan, alongside the skeleton of a dude with a very nice orange coat. Then, for added insurance, I put on my holster and slipped my Glock 17 into it.
The first battle was against ‘Ouroboros’, master of the parry. He proved it well, for every time I swung my katana, he would deflect with expert precision. I got fed up with that quick and whipped out my gun.
“Parry this you fucking casul!” And I plugged him four times. The poor knight fell to the ground, dead. The audience gasped, so I quickly held up the gun and shouted,
“Behold! The power of God!” Another knight had nimbly leapt onto the field. I don’t believe he was supposed to. I holstered my gun, picked up my sword, and got into my stance. We fought for about thirteen seconds before I knocked his helmet off to reveal that he was a She. This caused even more gasps, not in the least bit from me, for I recognized her.
“Štraźa! What the hell are you doing? And what the hell are you doing *here*?” She sighed, and pointed the sword at my neck.
“Stopping you from fucking up everything, like I always have to do!” Her Polish accent was even more prominent because of her anger. I always found it cute.
“I cannot let you marry the young Kaiserin,” she explained, and I could tell by where the blade was that I would have to choose my words carefully. She wasn’t joking. So, I could either joke myself and have my neck spilled onto the sands, or I could play it cool.
“Why not? Can you explain any better?” I ask, stepping slightly back from the sword.
“You’re the insane idiot who learns history from Sabaton and Reddit! You tell me what’s going to happen when you take total control over *GERMANY*!” I couldn’t argue that point.
“Right. I’ll just… be… going home then?” Was that a drop of blood or sweat, crawling down my throat?
“Nie, you’re coming with me. I’m the only one who can stop *them* from imprisoning you, *again*.” I shrug, and let her drag me into the portal she had formed.
“Those poor Germans must be very confused right now,” I mutter, and pray to whatever god hasn’t been locked away that Štraźa actually has my back for this one.
|
The blast echoed across the tournament grounds for an eternity as the once proud knight lay cold and motionless as stone.
With the music stopped, and the crowd quiet, the traveler gazes to the royal balcony in search for his prize. Though he hasn't quite won yet, it seems doubtful another knight will enter this ring.
"Ah, there you are, my lady!" said the traveler.
At his words, the crowd seemed poised to find cover. Realizing this, the traveler quickly adds a low and respectful bow.
The traveler takes his time addressing the royal court in turn, saving the King for last, hoping to make the best impression with a little lead-up.
"And lastly, most nobly, you maj-" as the traveler begins to address the king, he notices an old man standing beside the king's throne, just over his right shoulder. was my intel wrong...wait...who...
"That spell you spoke earlier, where did you learn it?" said the old man, making his way to the balconies edge, stepping in front of the royal court without pause for ceremony. In the sunlight, the white-bearded man had a surprisingly childlike visage. "PARYTHISU--FUKINCASHUhL" Merlin tested the incantation, then looked back down at the old man from atop his perch...
|
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[WP] You are a time traveler entering a medieval tournament in which the winner gains the right to wed the princess. You're the first match and the king announces that you may use any weapon. Quickly you draw you're glock and shout "parry this you fucking casual"
|
The explosion of the gun quieted the crowd. I had expected an eruption of screams and terror, but the only sound was the hard thud as the man hit the ground. An echo in the back of my head sounded, ‘I guess he bit the dust’ in my dads voice. The corner of my mouth turned up as I rolled my eyes.
Well, now’s a good a time as ever I suppose. I holstered my Glock 26 before I took off my helmet, allowing my sun-kissed blonde hair to fall out of its hasty twist and down over my shoulders. I could feel that it was matted and tangled near the bottom. ‘Stupid movies’ I thought as I ran my hand through my hair a few times. ‘They make you think this isn’t going to be a problem. Stupid models and their hair always cascading like a damn waterfall.’
As I turned around to face the crowd I finally was met with something I expected. Gasps and shouts of anger. “A woman!” Rippled throughout the audience. I walked toward the Royals seating area, smiling my recently brightened smile. No one tried to stop me as I cut the distance between myself and the princess, waving to the crowd seated on both sides.
As I approached I could see the stunned horror on the faces of nearly every person in the royal booth. The Queen looked like she was about to pass out, she had a maid fanning her wildly.
“Welp Princess, let’s go!”
“But I can’t marry you, you’re a lady!” She breathed, exasperated.
“I’d hardly consider myself a LADY under any circumstances” I said, exaggerating lady as I gestured my men’s clothing.
The King stood and looked back and forth from his daughter to me and back again. I thought he would yell, but he was actually pretty calm.
“Hello King Arnold,” I started. “My name is Charlotte, pleased to meet you.” I did a little curtsy in my ugly brown trousers.
“I read through the bylaws of the tournament and nowhere in there did it actually say that a female couldn’t compete. So I didn’t break any rules. I know, I know, I’m not exactly what you were expecting in a champion, but I promise I only have the best interest of the princess at heart.”
The king hardly moved to face me directly.
“Charlotte.”
It was the only thing he said for a moment.
“I think we had better all discuss this in private.”
“Does that mean you’re going to kill me behind closed doors?” I said as I pulled my hand up to rest over my holstered firearm.
“No!” It was the princess, now it was my turn to be shocked. “Nobody will kill you, right father?”
“Nobody will kill you,” he agreed
I was lead by two guards through the crowd to an entrance of the humble castle behind the royal family. As we entered and the front doors closed I called in front of me.
“Hey! Princess Teresa! Are you allowed to come back here and walk with me?”
She slowed for a moment and looked at her parents before stepping to the side to allow the other guards to pass her. One stayed with her as she waited for me to meet up with her.
“Sup girl,” I said excitedly.
“I’m sorry..... what did you say to me?” She said, not rudely.
“Just a version of hello where I’m from.”
“Where are you from?”
“Ohio”
“Ooohio. I’ve never heard of it, is it far?”
“Uhhhhh kinda?”
She took her time to look at me as we walked down the corridor. I could see her looking at my eyes taking in my make up and men’s clothing.
“Why did you do it? I have heard of women who fancy other women in rumors, but no one as bold to pretend to be a man to win the hand of a princess. You were bound to be found out eventually!”
“Oh, but princess!” I mocked astonishment, “the sight of you maid me swoon!”
She looked at me with confusion. I could tell she understood my sarcasm but wasn’t sure how to take it.
“I don’t fancy women.”
“What? Then why?!”
“Well. I mean, you’re young. You were just going to be handed off to some dude who killed a whole bunch of other dudes. Is that even something you wanted?”
“He would have been highly regarded throughout the kingdom.”
“That doesn’t answer my question and you know it. Did you want to be married to a man because he won a tournament?”
“No” she said slowly.
“That’s what I thought” I said shrugging. “You’re not going to become Queen, right?”
“No, I would not become Queen. My brother Gerald will be the next King after my father.”
“Do you want to be Queen?”
“Heavens no!” She said quickly. I was sort of surprised at her immediate response. “Father works so much and he is so loved in the kingdom. I’m not nearly as good hearted as him, and I don’t want to make decisions like he does. Gerald has trained his whole life to become King. He’ll never be as good as father, but he is well liked and is very smart. He will be a good king.”
“Do you want to be married?” I asked
“Yeeees” She drew the word out slowly
“That sounded like a no”
“I do want to be married! One day, but I want to go to France. And if I marry I will become my husbands wife, and my duty will be to him.”
I was right. Thank God. What girl wanted to be married off to a stranger. Probably none, but on the off chance I was wrong and disrupted a whole tournament I was going to feel a little bad.
“That’s why I did it. You deserve to do what you want. Marriage can come later, when you’re ready. And preferably with someone you choose.”
She looked at me in complete astonishment. “You did this for me?!”
“Yep!” I smiled deviously. “Now, let’s discuss how we can get your father to let us go to France!”
Edit: grammar
Update: working on a better ending, but coincidentally getting ready for a bridal shower, so I’m cut short on time!
|
The blast echoed across the tournament grounds for an eternity as the once proud knight lay cold and motionless as stone.
With the music stopped, and the crowd quiet, the traveler gazes to the royal balcony in search for his prize. Though he hasn't quite won yet, it seems doubtful another knight will enter this ring.
"Ah, there you are, my lady!" said the traveler.
At his words, the crowd seemed poised to find cover. Realizing this, the traveler quickly adds a low and respectful bow.
The traveler takes his time addressing the royal court in turn, saving the King for last, hoping to make the best impression with a little lead-up.
"And lastly, most nobly, you maj-" as the traveler begins to address the king, he notices an old man standing beside the king's throne, just over his right shoulder. was my intel wrong...wait...who...
"That spell you spoke earlier, where did you learn it?" said the old man, making his way to the balconies edge, stepping in front of the royal court without pause for ceremony. In the sunlight, the white-bearded man had a surprisingly childlike visage. "PARYTHISU--FUKINCASHUhL" Merlin tested the incantation, then looked back down at the old man from atop his perch...
|
|
[WP] You are a time traveler entering a medieval tournament in which the winner gains the right to wed the princess. You're the first match and the king announces that you may use any weapon. Quickly you draw you're glock and shout "parry this you fucking casual"
|
The explosion of the gun quieted the crowd. I had expected an eruption of screams and terror, but the only sound was the hard thud as the man hit the ground. An echo in the back of my head sounded, ‘I guess he bit the dust’ in my dads voice. The corner of my mouth turned up as I rolled my eyes.
Well, now’s a good a time as ever I suppose. I holstered my Glock 26 before I took off my helmet, allowing my sun-kissed blonde hair to fall out of its hasty twist and down over my shoulders. I could feel that it was matted and tangled near the bottom. ‘Stupid movies’ I thought as I ran my hand through my hair a few times. ‘They make you think this isn’t going to be a problem. Stupid models and their hair always cascading like a damn waterfall.’
As I turned around to face the crowd I finally was met with something I expected. Gasps and shouts of anger. “A woman!” Rippled throughout the audience. I walked toward the Royals seating area, smiling my recently brightened smile. No one tried to stop me as I cut the distance between myself and the princess, waving to the crowd seated on both sides.
As I approached I could see the stunned horror on the faces of nearly every person in the royal booth. The Queen looked like she was about to pass out, she had a maid fanning her wildly.
“Welp Princess, let’s go!”
“But I can’t marry you, you’re a lady!” She breathed, exasperated.
“I’d hardly consider myself a LADY under any circumstances” I said, exaggerating lady as I gestured my men’s clothing.
The King stood and looked back and forth from his daughter to me and back again. I thought he would yell, but he was actually pretty calm.
“Hello King Arnold,” I started. “My name is Charlotte, pleased to meet you.” I did a little curtsy in my ugly brown trousers.
“I read through the bylaws of the tournament and nowhere in there did it actually say that a female couldn’t compete. So I didn’t break any rules. I know, I know, I’m not exactly what you were expecting in a champion, but I promise I only have the best interest of the princess at heart.”
The king hardly moved to face me directly.
“Charlotte.”
It was the only thing he said for a moment.
“I think we had better all discuss this in private.”
“Does that mean you’re going to kill me behind closed doors?” I said as I pulled my hand up to rest over my holstered firearm.
“No!” It was the princess, now it was my turn to be shocked. “Nobody will kill you, right father?”
“Nobody will kill you,” he agreed
I was lead by two guards through the crowd to an entrance of the humble castle behind the royal family. As we entered and the front doors closed I called in front of me.
“Hey! Princess Teresa! Are you allowed to come back here and walk with me?”
She slowed for a moment and looked at her parents before stepping to the side to allow the other guards to pass her. One stayed with her as she waited for me to meet up with her.
“Sup girl,” I said excitedly.
“I’m sorry..... what did you say to me?” She said, not rudely.
“Just a version of hello where I’m from.”
“Where are you from?”
“Ohio”
“Ooohio. I’ve never heard of it, is it far?”
“Uhhhhh kinda?”
She took her time to look at me as we walked down the corridor. I could see her looking at my eyes taking in my make up and men’s clothing.
“Why did you do it? I have heard of women who fancy other women in rumors, but no one as bold to pretend to be a man to win the hand of a princess. You were bound to be found out eventually!”
“Oh, but princess!” I mocked astonishment, “the sight of you maid me swoon!”
She looked at me with confusion. I could tell she understood my sarcasm but wasn’t sure how to take it.
“I don’t fancy women.”
“What? Then why?!”
“Well. I mean, you’re young. You were just going to be handed off to some dude who killed a whole bunch of other dudes. Is that even something you wanted?”
“He would have been highly regarded throughout the kingdom.”
“That doesn’t answer my question and you know it. Did you want to be married to a man because he won a tournament?”
“No” she said slowly.
“That’s what I thought” I said shrugging. “You’re not going to become Queen, right?”
“No, I would not become Queen. My brother Gerald will be the next King after my father.”
“Do you want to be Queen?”
“Heavens no!” She said quickly. I was sort of surprised at her immediate response. “Father works so much and he is so loved in the kingdom. I’m not nearly as good hearted as him, and I don’t want to make decisions like he does. Gerald has trained his whole life to become King. He’ll never be as good as father, but he is well liked and is very smart. He will be a good king.”
“Do you want to be married?” I asked
“Yeeees” She drew the word out slowly
“That sounded like a no”
“I do want to be married! One day, but I want to go to France. And if I marry I will become my husbands wife, and my duty will be to him.”
I was right. Thank God. What girl wanted to be married off to a stranger. Probably none, but on the off chance I was wrong and disrupted a whole tournament I was going to feel a little bad.
“That’s why I did it. You deserve to do what you want. Marriage can come later, when you’re ready. And preferably with someone you choose.”
She looked at me in complete astonishment. “You did this for me?!”
“Yep!” I smiled deviously. “Now, let’s discuss how we can get your father to let us go to France!”
Edit: grammar
Update: working on a better ending, but coincidentally getting ready for a bridal shower, so I’m cut short on time!
|
There may have been a million of me running around. Everything from eating a whole chicken with some Vikings to figuring out who gets the ‘honour’ of putting the Egyptian cat goddess into the pyramids to trap them beneath the sands. Oh, I do so hope that I *lose* that Honour.
Recently, a teenaged me was in the Holy Roman Empire. A fun place, no doubt, especially for someone with a thick Old Prussian accent. Why do I have that? Not important. At any rate, I was just eating a sandwich at a sandwich shoppe when I saw the poster. *’Why is there a poster in medieval Germany?’* I asked myself in my head. ‘*It’s not like half the people can read.’* Reading it over, I realized that it must’ve been placed as a reminder for me, as it was written in the language of the gods (Croatian) and also very snarky and sarcastic. If ever I see the me who wrote that, I’m gonna punch him in the dick, the cheeky bastard.
The poster explained the tournament, and I figured that it would be good to work off the calories from my steak on a Kaiser. Now, before you say that it doesn’t exist, let me mention that I don’t either. That, and I may or may not have hired sophisticated robots to set up food places. You’ll thank me when they evolve into McDonald’s.
So I entered my name into the tournament, which was a bit tricky, as I couldn’t remember which flavour of German I’m supposed to speak. I was laughed at a bit, because I had never been seen before, and probably because I was only about nineteen. These Knights were ready to kill me. I was thinking of how I could prolong that when we were introduced to the prize; the Kaiser’s daughter, Wulfhilde. *’Yeah, I’d kill for her,’* I thought to myself, looking my opponents over. Had I been the poetic sort, I may have used words like ‘golden waterfalls of hair’ or ‘face like the fresh winter snowfall’. I am, however, not a complete sap, so I won’t be saying that.
One of my prides in my early life was the handmade armour of Ornstein, from the *Dark Souls* series. I had begun forging it soon after I had acquired my time machine, and it took many years to finish. Because of this, I would not be using it in the fight. Instead, I put on a standard suit of platemail armour. For some extra flair, I donned a cloak as well. Next, I picked my sword, this time a long katana in a red sheath with a red handle. I had found it in feudal Japan, alongside the skeleton of a dude with a very nice orange coat. Then, for added insurance, I put on my holster and slipped my Glock 17 into it.
The first battle was against ‘Ouroboros’, master of the parry. He proved it well, for every time I swung my katana, he would deflect with expert precision. I got fed up with that quick and whipped out my gun.
“Parry this you fucking casul!” And I plugged him four times. The poor knight fell to the ground, dead. The audience gasped, so I quickly held up the gun and shouted,
“Behold! The power of God!” Another knight had nimbly leapt onto the field. I don’t believe he was supposed to. I holstered my gun, picked up my sword, and got into my stance. We fought for about thirteen seconds before I knocked his helmet off to reveal that he was a She. This caused even more gasps, not in the least bit from me, for I recognized her.
“Štraźa! What the hell are you doing? And what the hell are you doing *here*?” She sighed, and pointed the sword at my neck.
“Stopping you from fucking up everything, like I always have to do!” Her Polish accent was even more prominent because of her anger. I always found it cute.
“I cannot let you marry the young Kaiserin,” she explained, and I could tell by where the blade was that I would have to choose my words carefully. She wasn’t joking. So, I could either joke myself and have my neck spilled onto the sands, or I could play it cool.
“Why not? Can you explain any better?” I ask, stepping slightly back from the sword.
“You’re the insane idiot who learns history from Sabaton and Reddit! You tell me what’s going to happen when you take total control over *GERMANY*!” I couldn’t argue that point.
“Right. I’ll just… be… going home then?” Was that a drop of blood or sweat, crawling down my throat?
“Nie, you’re coming with me. I’m the only one who can stop *them* from imprisoning you, *again*.” I shrug, and let her drag me into the portal she had formed.
“Those poor Germans must be very confused right now,” I mutter, and pray to whatever god hasn’t been locked away that Štraźa actually has my back for this one.
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[WP] You are a time traveler entering a medieval tournament in which the winner gains the right to wed the princess. You're the first match and the king announces that you may use any weapon. Quickly you draw you're glock and shout "parry this you fucking casual"
|
The kings daughter was admittedly ‘to die for’, but I had no intention of actually doing it.
The time travel thing was getting kind of boring after the first few dozen trips back. ‘Don’t talk to anyone’, ‘don’t leave anything behind’, ‘don’t make friends’, and on and on. If I had known all ‘the rules’ from the start maybe I would have saved my money and just visited Venus, again. Who am I kidding? the potential for the ultimate power trip, being superior to the primitive peasants of the past, was addictive and fuck me if I wasn’t addicted.
So after my 44th trip back, I was making promises of payment I had no intention or ability to keep. Remember: addict. This time would be the last time. Fuck the rules, I’m taking my great grandfathers antique handgun back with me and finally demonstrate my superiority for all to see. So I jumped back to my favorite era of knights and kings. I signed up for the local harvest knight tourney, drew first match, oh joy! As the white knight charged, I reached for my gun and yelled some phrase I heard on the history holograms ‘something about a casual somethjng’. I aimed, pulled the trigger repeatedly, and.....missed every goddamn time.
Looks like I’ll be dying for the princess after all. Wonder if this will affect the space time conti.....:slice, thud:
|
The second I pulled the trigger, I knew something was wrong. Just something about the way he looked at me before I even drew my gun was unsettling... Not once did he look me in the eye, he only ever looked at my lower torso and occasionally his eyes would dart back and forth, and it was only after I fired my shot it dawned on me why. The entire time, his gaze followed the barrel of my gun, and his eyes were scanning what seemed to be the trajectory of the bullet. He knew what I was going to do. He knew where I’d kept my gun. He knew where the bullet would travel...
Cling. His sword, unsheathed from somewhere, had split the bullet clean in two. This fucking casual parried it. “Block this you fucking peasant” he sneered. He raised his sword and charged, straight at my face.
There was no need to block his sword, however. It didn’t matter what he knew about guns that he wasn’t supposed to know about, no one could survive a hail of bullets at close range, and that was exactly what my gun was capable of. I switched the gun to full auto and sprayed. He flew backwards, sword still raised, his chest now a mangled mess of flesh and bone. “Fucking time travellers” he muttered as he let out his last breath.
As for I, I never intended on marrying a princess. Heck, why would I even stay in this time period? It sucks. The only reason I came here was to mess around with dumb people of the past. Looking back on it though, I may have went a little overboard... as now people were fully convinced that witches and wizards existed... and a lot of innocent people have been burned to death or drowned. Whoops.
|
|
[WP] You are a time traveler entering a medieval tournament in which the winner gains the right to wed the princess. You're the first match and the king announces that you may use any weapon. Quickly you draw you're glock and shout "parry this you fucking casual"
|
“Crack”
The sound heard across not only the field, but the whole country, as onlookers watched in disbelief as their final champion of hit the ground with a disappointing thud. The barbaric crowd, in uproarious applause at the path of death and destruction I had laid before them chanted for more, almost begging.
I turned to the king, clutching the source of my ‘power’ and staring him dead in the eye.
I needed this woman, this ‘princess’. The gem she carried around her neck was my way out of this primitive shit hole, there was not a man on earth that could put a barrier between me and getting back home.
“Now, give me what I earned.”
The crowd looked horrified, in disbelief, how could someone dare talk to their king this way, what kind of a leader would simply let that occur?
“Peasant, address me in the way you ‘ought to! That is my daughter! And I am your king!”
...
“Crack”
The sound heard across not only the field, but the whole country, as onlookers watched in horror and disbelief as their mighty king hit the floor with a disappointing thud.
|
The second I pulled the trigger, I knew something was wrong. Just something about the way he looked at me before I even drew my gun was unsettling... Not once did he look me in the eye, he only ever looked at my lower torso and occasionally his eyes would dart back and forth, and it was only after I fired my shot it dawned on me why. The entire time, his gaze followed the barrel of my gun, and his eyes were scanning what seemed to be the trajectory of the bullet. He knew what I was going to do. He knew where I’d kept my gun. He knew where the bullet would travel...
Cling. His sword, unsheathed from somewhere, had split the bullet clean in two. This fucking casual parried it. “Block this you fucking peasant” he sneered. He raised his sword and charged, straight at my face.
There was no need to block his sword, however. It didn’t matter what he knew about guns that he wasn’t supposed to know about, no one could survive a hail of bullets at close range, and that was exactly what my gun was capable of. I switched the gun to full auto and sprayed. He flew backwards, sword still raised, his chest now a mangled mess of flesh and bone. “Fucking time travellers” he muttered as he let out his last breath.
As for I, I never intended on marrying a princess. Heck, why would I even stay in this time period? It sucks. The only reason I came here was to mess around with dumb people of the past. Looking back on it though, I may have went a little overboard... as now people were fully convinced that witches and wizards existed... and a lot of innocent people have been burned to death or drowned. Whoops.
|
|
[WP] You are a time traveler entering a medieval tournament in which the winner gains the right to wed the princess. You're the first match and the king announces that you may use any weapon. Quickly you draw you're glock and shout "parry this you fucking casual"
|
Men are dumb. Let me count the ways.
First of all, they assume that having a tournament where they bash each other's heads in is a good way to charm a woman like me. Like I'm some kind of prize to be claimed by the "winner", and would just kind of go along with it. Don't they realise I'm an actual princess, with the legal power to actually cut their heads off? No, they don't realise it. Men are dumb.
Secondly, they think that I'd be amazed that a so-called knight might pull out a Glock at a jousting tournament. Moron. Time travel exists. Everyone from the future who ends up in a medieval tournament tries something like this, and thinks they're the first one who did. But once time travel is invented, it's not long before it's cheap enough to be sold into the mass market, and then whichever time period is popular in the imagination gets flooded with visitors. Particularly to my year. Particularly to my tournaments. Particularly by men with Glocks. And they think they're the first. Men are dumb.
And finally, and most importantly, they think that the spectators at a medieval tournament have only experienced mediaeval times. Not me. I've come home after getting a degree from Bryn Mawr in the year 2173. I have my own Glock. The only thing I don't have is a working time machine to ride back out and explore the rest of time again. All I needed was someone from the future dumb enough to show up with a time machine. That's why we put the competition on in the first place.
I can't wait for this tournament to be over, and the guards to have taken care of our visitor. I want to visit the robotics factories of Gaborone, Botswana, in the year 2517. I want to visit the Great Barrier Reef in Australia at its ecological peak in 1995. I want to gather all the knowledge I can to protect the realm from time travelling tourists, and ensure that we're not dumb.
Certainly not as dumb as this walking dead man with the Glock.
|
The second I pulled the trigger, I knew something was wrong. Just something about the way he looked at me before I even drew my gun was unsettling... Not once did he look me in the eye, he only ever looked at my lower torso and occasionally his eyes would dart back and forth, and it was only after I fired my shot it dawned on me why. The entire time, his gaze followed the barrel of my gun, and his eyes were scanning what seemed to be the trajectory of the bullet. He knew what I was going to do. He knew where I’d kept my gun. He knew where the bullet would travel...
Cling. His sword, unsheathed from somewhere, had split the bullet clean in two. This fucking casual parried it. “Block this you fucking peasant” he sneered. He raised his sword and charged, straight at my face.
There was no need to block his sword, however. It didn’t matter what he knew about guns that he wasn’t supposed to know about, no one could survive a hail of bullets at close range, and that was exactly what my gun was capable of. I switched the gun to full auto and sprayed. He flew backwards, sword still raised, his chest now a mangled mess of flesh and bone. “Fucking time travellers” he muttered as he let out his last breath.
As for I, I never intended on marrying a princess. Heck, why would I even stay in this time period? It sucks. The only reason I came here was to mess around with dumb people of the past. Looking back on it though, I may have went a little overboard... as now people were fully convinced that witches and wizards existed... and a lot of innocent people have been burned to death or drowned. Whoops.
|
|
[WP] You are a time traveler entering a medieval tournament in which the winner gains the right to wed the princess. You're the first match and the king announces that you may use any weapon. Quickly you draw you're glock and shout "parry this you fucking casual"
|
“Crack”
The sound heard across not only the field, but the whole country, as onlookers watched in disbelief as their final champion of hit the ground with a disappointing thud. The barbaric crowd, in uproarious applause at the path of death and destruction I had laid before them chanted for more, almost begging.
I turned to the king, clutching the source of my ‘power’ and staring him dead in the eye.
I needed this woman, this ‘princess’. The gem she carried around her neck was my way out of this primitive shit hole, there was not a man on earth that could put a barrier between me and getting back home.
“Now, give me what I earned.”
The crowd looked horrified, in disbelief, how could someone dare talk to their king this way, what kind of a leader would simply let that occur?
“Peasant, address me in the way you ‘ought to! That is my daughter! And I am your king!”
...
“Crack”
The sound heard across not only the field, but the whole country, as onlookers watched in horror and disbelief as their mighty king hit the floor with a disappointing thud.
|
The kings daughter was admittedly ‘to die for’, but I had no intention of actually doing it.
The time travel thing was getting kind of boring after the first few dozen trips back. ‘Don’t talk to anyone’, ‘don’t leave anything behind’, ‘don’t make friends’, and on and on. If I had known all ‘the rules’ from the start maybe I would have saved my money and just visited Venus, again. Who am I kidding? the potential for the ultimate power trip, being superior to the primitive peasants of the past, was addictive and fuck me if I wasn’t addicted.
So after my 44th trip back, I was making promises of payment I had no intention or ability to keep. Remember: addict. This time would be the last time. Fuck the rules, I’m taking my great grandfathers antique handgun back with me and finally demonstrate my superiority for all to see. So I jumped back to my favorite era of knights and kings. I signed up for the local harvest knight tourney, drew first match, oh joy! As the white knight charged, I reached for my gun and yelled some phrase I heard on the history holograms ‘something about a casual somethjng’. I aimed, pulled the trigger repeatedly, and.....missed every goddamn time.
Looks like I’ll be dying for the princess after all. Wonder if this will affect the space time conti.....:slice, thud:
|
|
[WP] You are a time traveler entering a medieval tournament in which the winner gains the right to wed the princess. You're the first match and the king announces that you may use any weapon. Quickly you draw you're glock and shout "parry this you fucking casual"
|
Men are dumb. Let me count the ways.
First of all, they assume that having a tournament where they bash each other's heads in is a good way to charm a woman like me. Like I'm some kind of prize to be claimed by the "winner", and would just kind of go along with it. Don't they realise I'm an actual princess, with the legal power to actually cut their heads off? No, they don't realise it. Men are dumb.
Secondly, they think that I'd be amazed that a so-called knight might pull out a Glock at a jousting tournament. Moron. Time travel exists. Everyone from the future who ends up in a medieval tournament tries something like this, and thinks they're the first one who did. But once time travel is invented, it's not long before it's cheap enough to be sold into the mass market, and then whichever time period is popular in the imagination gets flooded with visitors. Particularly to my year. Particularly to my tournaments. Particularly by men with Glocks. And they think they're the first. Men are dumb.
And finally, and most importantly, they think that the spectators at a medieval tournament have only experienced mediaeval times. Not me. I've come home after getting a degree from Bryn Mawr in the year 2173. I have my own Glock. The only thing I don't have is a working time machine to ride back out and explore the rest of time again. All I needed was someone from the future dumb enough to show up with a time machine. That's why we put the competition on in the first place.
I can't wait for this tournament to be over, and the guards to have taken care of our visitor. I want to visit the robotics factories of Gaborone, Botswana, in the year 2517. I want to visit the Great Barrier Reef in Australia at its ecological peak in 1995. I want to gather all the knowledge I can to protect the realm from time travelling tourists, and ensure that we're not dumb.
Certainly not as dumb as this walking dead man with the Glock.
|
The kings daughter was admittedly ‘to die for’, but I had no intention of actually doing it.
The time travel thing was getting kind of boring after the first few dozen trips back. ‘Don’t talk to anyone’, ‘don’t leave anything behind’, ‘don’t make friends’, and on and on. If I had known all ‘the rules’ from the start maybe I would have saved my money and just visited Venus, again. Who am I kidding? the potential for the ultimate power trip, being superior to the primitive peasants of the past, was addictive and fuck me if I wasn’t addicted.
So after my 44th trip back, I was making promises of payment I had no intention or ability to keep. Remember: addict. This time would be the last time. Fuck the rules, I’m taking my great grandfathers antique handgun back with me and finally demonstrate my superiority for all to see. So I jumped back to my favorite era of knights and kings. I signed up for the local harvest knight tourney, drew first match, oh joy! As the white knight charged, I reached for my gun and yelled some phrase I heard on the history holograms ‘something about a casual somethjng’. I aimed, pulled the trigger repeatedly, and.....missed every goddamn time.
Looks like I’ll be dying for the princess after all. Wonder if this will affect the space time conti.....:slice, thud:
|
|
[WP] You are a time traveler entering a medieval tournament in which the winner gains the right to wed the princess. You're the first match and the king announces that you may use any weapon. Quickly you draw you're glock and shout "parry this you fucking casual"
|
Men are dumb. Let me count the ways.
First of all, they assume that having a tournament where they bash each other's heads in is a good way to charm a woman like me. Like I'm some kind of prize to be claimed by the "winner", and would just kind of go along with it. Don't they realise I'm an actual princess, with the legal power to actually cut their heads off? No, they don't realise it. Men are dumb.
Secondly, they think that I'd be amazed that a so-called knight might pull out a Glock at a jousting tournament. Moron. Time travel exists. Everyone from the future who ends up in a medieval tournament tries something like this, and thinks they're the first one who did. But once time travel is invented, it's not long before it's cheap enough to be sold into the mass market, and then whichever time period is popular in the imagination gets flooded with visitors. Particularly to my year. Particularly to my tournaments. Particularly by men with Glocks. And they think they're the first. Men are dumb.
And finally, and most importantly, they think that the spectators at a medieval tournament have only experienced mediaeval times. Not me. I've come home after getting a degree from Bryn Mawr in the year 2173. I have my own Glock. The only thing I don't have is a working time machine to ride back out and explore the rest of time again. All I needed was someone from the future dumb enough to show up with a time machine. That's why we put the competition on in the first place.
I can't wait for this tournament to be over, and the guards to have taken care of our visitor. I want to visit the robotics factories of Gaborone, Botswana, in the year 2517. I want to visit the Great Barrier Reef in Australia at its ecological peak in 1995. I want to gather all the knowledge I can to protect the realm from time travelling tourists, and ensure that we're not dumb.
Certainly not as dumb as this walking dead man with the Glock.
|
The roar of the shot started to settle as the knight dropped his sword and fell into the mud. I turned to the king elevated in the stands with his beautiful daughter sat beside him.
"Well whens the wedding your majesty?"
Standing there with a grin I holster my weapon. The crowd is dead silent. The king stares me down with rage in his face.
"My daughter well not marry a user of the dark arts" He roared.
With a wave of his hand several knights entered the blood soaked dirt ring. Men in towers around the arena aimed crossbows in my direction.
"What dark arts?" I pull out my weapon. "This is a Glock."
"I do not care what you call your pointing death magic thing. As a user of the dark arts I execute you to death!"
With that he looks at his men with the stoic face only a man of such power and respect carries.
"Men do your kingdom proud! Execute him!"
I knew I shouldn't of left New York.
​
|
|
[WP] You are a time traveler entering a medieval tournament in which the winner gains the right to wed the princess. You're the first match and the king announces that you may use any weapon. Quickly you draw you're glock and shout "parry this you fucking casual"
|
"Any weapon, you say," I ask the king one last time, "even enchanted weapons?" The king, probably very weary of this question by now, just sighed and waved me away. "Yes, boy, any weapon you want, now leave me be!" I smirked as I walked back to the stadium, slowly, quietly screwing the silencer onto my Glock 18. As I felt it in my hand one last time before going into the arena, I silently cursed myself for not thinking to get a better gun before I left. Damnit, why didn't I pick that 12 gauge instead? Then I wouldn't have to worry about aiming so precisely. I'm interrupted in my thoughts by the sound of trumpets signalling the start of the contest. Fuck it, here goes nothing. I slowly step out into the arena, clad in humble clothing, with a thin, titanium alloy breastplate on underneath. My opponent takes his helmet off and laughs as he sees me. "Does this peasant boy think he can defeat me? Me, the king's greatest-" I cut him off with two hollow points to the head. Even with a silencer, that was louder than I expected, but it doesn't matter now. "Why, yes, as a matter of fact I do. Cocky son of a bitch." I guess that wasn't so hard after all. "Your Majesty, I wish to take your daughter's hand in marriage. As a dowry, I offer you this enchanted weapon from my homeland, the Glock of destruction"
|
The roar of the shot started to settle as the knight dropped his sword and fell into the mud. I turned to the king elevated in the stands with his beautiful daughter sat beside him.
"Well whens the wedding your majesty?"
Standing there with a grin I holster my weapon. The crowd is dead silent. The king stares me down with rage in his face.
"My daughter well not marry a user of the dark arts" He roared.
With a wave of his hand several knights entered the blood soaked dirt ring. Men in towers around the arena aimed crossbows in my direction.
"What dark arts?" I pull out my weapon. "This is a Glock."
"I do not care what you call your pointing death magic thing. As a user of the dark arts I execute you to death!"
With that he looks at his men with the stoic face only a man of such power and respect carries.
"Men do your kingdom proud! Execute him!"
I knew I shouldn't of left New York.
​
|
|
[WP] You are a time traveler entering a medieval tournament in which the winner gains the right to wed the princess. You're the first match and the king announces that you may use any weapon. Quickly you draw you're glock and shout "parry this you fucking casual"
|
Advanced Author's note: Just a quick call out to both [SterlingMagleby](https://www.reddit.com/user/SterlingMagleby) and [Korijay](https://www.reddit.com/user/Korijay), who both had a similiar idea to mine, and beat me to posting.
\-
I should have thought this through better, I considered, as I dodged an arrow. Seriously, it should have been common sense that downing the opposing knight with "the power of thunder" would have drawn some less than positive attention.
All I can claim is that the visage of the Princess obviously overwhelmed said common sense (more like my libido knifed it in the back and hid the body).
Honestly, none of this was going according to plan. The original scheme had simply been to jump back in time and observe. Sure they had given me the Glock, but they had been clear that it was only for emergency use.
But when I had arrived successfully in the past, and had seen the princess, common sense (and most other rational thought) had left me. To say she was hot was the understatement of the millennia (if I had my date right). So I joined the tournament for her hand. Not the best decision I had ever made.
In hind sight, and given my record of poor decisions, I'm beginning to think the scientists didn't actually expect this whole thing to work. Assholes. Also, I probably hadn't needed to gloat over the corpse of my opponent. That one was on me.
Well, those are problems for another time. At the moment, dodging arrows in my primary concern.
Honestly, I think the King was being a bit unfair. I hadn't been hostile to anyone other than my opponent, and you'd think any King worth his salt would be happy to have a "wizard who controls the power of thunder" as a husband to his daughter. BUT NOOOOO. Pull out a bit of 21st century technology, and suddenly your being pursued by the King's personal guard. *So not fair!*
I ducked behind a tree as I considered what to do next. The timer was set to return me in another 42 minutes unless I overrode it. Overriding it was exactly what I had intended to do once I won the princess' hand in marriage, but unfortunately that only extended my stay in the past, there was no way to get me out sooner. Bummer.
I sent a few more rounds over my shoulder to get the approaching knights to duck back as I broke from cover and ran on. Only one more magazine I noted as I reloaded; I'd have to start rationing my shots.
Suddenly three men in red jumped out in front on me.
I leveled my pistol, but could not abandon my snark, "I didn't expect you to get in front of me."
The man in the middle, his head covered by a wide brimmed hat matching his red robes, stepped forward confidently, and in a ridiculous Spanish accent stated "No one expects the Spanish Inquisition! Our chief weapons are surprise and fear!" He boomed.
Honestly, he sounded rather pompous to me, so I shot him. I was thoroughly surprised when he drew his sword faster then my eye could follow and apparently cut the bullet in half.
"A Glock? Really? You couldn't have picked something with more style?" The man queried.
At this point, I was fully at a loss. How did this man know what a Glock was? How in the world did he block a freaking bullet with a sword?" These questions ran through my mind, but I could hear the King's men approaching, so I took what I thought was the most logical course of action and emptied the pistol magazine at the men who blocked my escape.
To my astonishment, the man in the center used his blade to block every single bullet.
He sighed, and suddenly lost his ridiculous accent. "You time travelers are all the same. When will you learn to stop mucking about in the past?" With that, he unceremoniously stabbed me through the heart.
I knew I was as good as dead as I hit the ground. My last thoughts on Earth were revisiting my earlier conclusion that I really hadn't thought this through. But in my defense, seriously, no one expects the Spanish Inquisition.
\-
Second Author's Note - Hope you enjoyed, and as always, I'm a sucker for constructive feedback.
Third Author's Note - Minor grammatical edits.
|
The roar of the shot started to settle as the knight dropped his sword and fell into the mud. I turned to the king elevated in the stands with his beautiful daughter sat beside him.
"Well whens the wedding your majesty?"
Standing there with a grin I holster my weapon. The crowd is dead silent. The king stares me down with rage in his face.
"My daughter well not marry a user of the dark arts" He roared.
With a wave of his hand several knights entered the blood soaked dirt ring. Men in towers around the arena aimed crossbows in my direction.
"What dark arts?" I pull out my weapon. "This is a Glock."
"I do not care what you call your pointing death magic thing. As a user of the dark arts I execute you to death!"
With that he looks at his men with the stoic face only a man of such power and respect carries.
"Men do your kingdom proud! Execute him!"
I knew I shouldn't of left New York.
​
|
|
[WP] You are a time traveler entering a medieval tournament in which the winner gains the right to wed the princess. You're the first match and the king announces that you may use any weapon. Quickly you draw you're glock and shout "parry this you fucking casual"
|
My opponent was dead before he hit the ground. In hindsight, bring a Glock-18 to a medieval tournament might have been a little overkill.
Smoke billowed out of the barrel, forming plumes around my visage, I knew I looked kinda cool but to these people, I must’ve looked like a witch. Because that’s exactly what the men of the king’s guard exclaimed.
“One thousand, two thousand, three thousand.” I counted under my breath, applying gentle pressure on the plastic trigger to avoid barrel drift. Three men, once bearing down on me, now lay dead or dying in the mud.
“Oh ye of the devil, ye shalt never ‘ave this Daughter o mine.” The king screeched, drawing his admittedly majestic sword, though I doubt his pot bellied frame would get further than two feet if I decided to put him down. However, regicide would put me in a pretty terrible position.
“Ahh, your grace. I’m not a witch nor a devil worshipper. I am god’s retribution, his divine wrath upon you and your kingdom for your failures.”
Who knew, an entire stadia would go from wanting to burn me at the stake, to crying on their knees. I see why people start religions now.
|
The roar of the shot started to settle as the knight dropped his sword and fell into the mud. I turned to the king elevated in the stands with his beautiful daughter sat beside him.
"Well whens the wedding your majesty?"
Standing there with a grin I holster my weapon. The crowd is dead silent. The king stares me down with rage in his face.
"My daughter well not marry a user of the dark arts" He roared.
With a wave of his hand several knights entered the blood soaked dirt ring. Men in towers around the arena aimed crossbows in my direction.
"What dark arts?" I pull out my weapon. "This is a Glock."
"I do not care what you call your pointing death magic thing. As a user of the dark arts I execute you to death!"
With that he looks at his men with the stoic face only a man of such power and respect carries.
"Men do your kingdom proud! Execute him!"
I knew I shouldn't of left New York.
​
|
|
[WP] You are a time traveler entering a medieval tournament in which the winner gains the right to wed the princess. You're the first match and the king announces that you may use any weapon. Quickly you draw you're glock and shout "parry this you fucking casual"
|
How hard can it be, taking a gun to a knife fight? I mean, they're swords, but swords are just really big knives, so the sentiment holds true. The princess, so fair under the spring sun, eagerly watched on. We shared a glance, a smile, before my theatrics began.
"I will show you all the power of my magic," I said, the robed man across from me lurking beneath his hood. We stayed face to face, slowly rotating in a circle. "Watch as I kill this man without even moving."
I pulled the trigger on a gun tucked into my loose sleeve. It tore a hole in it, and the sound jolted the crowd. It was clear that my words were no bluff.
Not that it mattered.
Where the bullet should have hit him, a little pond of blue rippled, like a stone dropped into water. Slowly, he drew back his hood.
I hadn't aged very well, but it was no doubt *me*. Wrinkled, scarred, and fucking miserable eyes like overcooked eggs. He shook his head at me.
"Sorry, kiddo." Something around his wrist glowed red, whirring, humming.
"No, wait! Why? What the fuck are you doing here, killling me? I mean, you?"
"She's fucking crazy, kid. Like, absolute batshit bonkers. Time is stupid. If I let you beat me, you get stuck with her and turn into me. But if I kill you, then both our sufferings end." He raised his arm at me.
"Wait, just fucking *wait*."
He rolled his eyes, wrist lowering a bit. "What?"
"Well, I have a gun, and you have some crazy ass lasers and shit."
"And?"
I raised my arm and painted the royal banner with princess brains. The crowd was not exactly pleased, and the king was screaming something I didn't recognize.
"Huh. Why didn't I think of that?" old me asked.
I looked at myself and smiled. "You did."
*/r/resonatingfury*
|
The roar of the shot started to settle as the knight dropped his sword and fell into the mud. I turned to the king elevated in the stands with his beautiful daughter sat beside him.
"Well whens the wedding your majesty?"
Standing there with a grin I holster my weapon. The crowd is dead silent. The king stares me down with rage in his face.
"My daughter well not marry a user of the dark arts" He roared.
With a wave of his hand several knights entered the blood soaked dirt ring. Men in towers around the arena aimed crossbows in my direction.
"What dark arts?" I pull out my weapon. "This is a Glock."
"I do not care what you call your pointing death magic thing. As a user of the dark arts I execute you to death!"
With that he looks at his men with the stoic face only a man of such power and respect carries.
"Men do your kingdom proud! Execute him!"
I knew I shouldn't of left New York.
​
|
|
[WP] You are a time traveler entering a medieval tournament in which the winner gains the right to wed the princess. You're the first match and the king announces that you may use any weapon. Quickly you draw you're glock and shout "parry this you fucking casual"
|
Advanced Author's note: Just a quick call out to both [SterlingMagleby](https://www.reddit.com/user/SterlingMagleby) and [Korijay](https://www.reddit.com/user/Korijay), who both had a similiar idea to mine, and beat me to posting.
\-
I should have thought this through better, I considered, as I dodged an arrow. Seriously, it should have been common sense that downing the opposing knight with "the power of thunder" would have drawn some less than positive attention.
All I can claim is that the visage of the Princess obviously overwhelmed said common sense (more like my libido knifed it in the back and hid the body).
Honestly, none of this was going according to plan. The original scheme had simply been to jump back in time and observe. Sure they had given me the Glock, but they had been clear that it was only for emergency use.
But when I had arrived successfully in the past, and had seen the princess, common sense (and most other rational thought) had left me. To say she was hot was the understatement of the millennia (if I had my date right). So I joined the tournament for her hand. Not the best decision I had ever made.
In hind sight, and given my record of poor decisions, I'm beginning to think the scientists didn't actually expect this whole thing to work. Assholes. Also, I probably hadn't needed to gloat over the corpse of my opponent. That one was on me.
Well, those are problems for another time. At the moment, dodging arrows in my primary concern.
Honestly, I think the King was being a bit unfair. I hadn't been hostile to anyone other than my opponent, and you'd think any King worth his salt would be happy to have a "wizard who controls the power of thunder" as a husband to his daughter. BUT NOOOOO. Pull out a bit of 21st century technology, and suddenly your being pursued by the King's personal guard. *So not fair!*
I ducked behind a tree as I considered what to do next. The timer was set to return me in another 42 minutes unless I overrode it. Overriding it was exactly what I had intended to do once I won the princess' hand in marriage, but unfortunately that only extended my stay in the past, there was no way to get me out sooner. Bummer.
I sent a few more rounds over my shoulder to get the approaching knights to duck back as I broke from cover and ran on. Only one more magazine I noted as I reloaded; I'd have to start rationing my shots.
Suddenly three men in red jumped out in front on me.
I leveled my pistol, but could not abandon my snark, "I didn't expect you to get in front of me."
The man in the middle, his head covered by a wide brimmed hat matching his red robes, stepped forward confidently, and in a ridiculous Spanish accent stated "No one expects the Spanish Inquisition! Our chief weapons are surprise and fear!" He boomed.
Honestly, he sounded rather pompous to me, so I shot him. I was thoroughly surprised when he drew his sword faster then my eye could follow and apparently cut the bullet in half.
"A Glock? Really? You couldn't have picked something with more style?" The man queried.
At this point, I was fully at a loss. How did this man know what a Glock was? How in the world did he block a freaking bullet with a sword?" These questions ran through my mind, but I could hear the King's men approaching, so I took what I thought was the most logical course of action and emptied the pistol magazine at the men who blocked my escape.
To my astonishment, the man in the center used his blade to block every single bullet.
He sighed, and suddenly lost his ridiculous accent. "You time travelers are all the same. When will you learn to stop mucking about in the past?" With that, he unceremoniously stabbed me through the heart.
I knew I was as good as dead as I hit the ground. My last thoughts on Earth were revisiting my earlier conclusion that I really hadn't thought this through. But in my defense, seriously, no one expects the Spanish Inquisition.
\-
Second Author's Note - Hope you enjoyed, and as always, I'm a sucker for constructive feedback.
Third Author's Note - Minor grammatical edits.
|
\[Poem\]
Did you know
that crossbow bolts
also travel very fast?
Looking down I think
(as part of me admires the feathers)
that maybe
just perhaps
this should have been
considered
somehow
Also
now it
(breathing is very hard)
it turns out they know what a fucking gun is
I mean
they didn't when I drew it
but
that sound is kind of hard
to mistake
(it's interesting)
(there's very little blood)
I think maybe a straight shot
might have gone through but
turns out, again?
hard to aim
with a knight bearing down
and
a glancing shot off steel plate?
well
I mean he did retreat
turns out, again the third
that "any weapon"
comes with, like
cultural context
chivalry and shit
and I don't think
I can get off
(or have my lung un-pierced)
on a technicality
so
here I am
(feels like the blood is just collecting inside)
on my ass
and I see
no one
in the stands
who looks
very impressed
with me
I think
it
is
nap
now
...
r/Magleby for other elaborate lies.
|
|
[WP] You are a time traveler entering a medieval tournament in which the winner gains the right to wed the princess. You're the first match and the king announces that you may use any weapon. Quickly you draw you're glock and shout "parry this you fucking casual"
|
My opponent was dead before he hit the ground. In hindsight, bring a Glock-18 to a medieval tournament might have been a little overkill.
Smoke billowed out of the barrel, forming plumes around my visage, I knew I looked kinda cool but to these people, I must’ve looked like a witch. Because that’s exactly what the men of the king’s guard exclaimed.
“One thousand, two thousand, three thousand.” I counted under my breath, applying gentle pressure on the plastic trigger to avoid barrel drift. Three men, once bearing down on me, now lay dead or dying in the mud.
“Oh ye of the devil, ye shalt never ‘ave this Daughter o mine.” The king screeched, drawing his admittedly majestic sword, though I doubt his pot bellied frame would get further than two feet if I decided to put him down. However, regicide would put me in a pretty terrible position.
“Ahh, your grace. I’m not a witch nor a devil worshipper. I am god’s retribution, his divine wrath upon you and your kingdom for your failures.”
Who knew, an entire stadia would go from wanting to burn me at the stake, to crying on their knees. I see why people start religions now.
|
\[Poem\]
Did you know
that crossbow bolts
also travel very fast?
Looking down I think
(as part of me admires the feathers)
that maybe
just perhaps
this should have been
considered
somehow
Also
now it
(breathing is very hard)
it turns out they know what a fucking gun is
I mean
they didn't when I drew it
but
that sound is kind of hard
to mistake
(it's interesting)
(there's very little blood)
I think maybe a straight shot
might have gone through but
turns out, again?
hard to aim
with a knight bearing down
and
a glancing shot off steel plate?
well
I mean he did retreat
turns out, again the third
that "any weapon"
comes with, like
cultural context
chivalry and shit
and I don't think
I can get off
(or have my lung un-pierced)
on a technicality
so
here I am
(feels like the blood is just collecting inside)
on my ass
and I see
no one
in the stands
who looks
very impressed
with me
I think
it
is
nap
now
...
r/Magleby for other elaborate lies.
|
|
[WP] You are a time traveler entering a medieval tournament in which the winner gains the right to wed the princess. You're the first match and the king announces that you may use any weapon. Quickly you draw you're glock and shout "parry this you fucking casual"
|
How hard can it be, taking a gun to a knife fight? I mean, they're swords, but swords are just really big knives, so the sentiment holds true. The princess, so fair under the spring sun, eagerly watched on. We shared a glance, a smile, before my theatrics began.
"I will show you all the power of my magic," I said, the robed man across from me lurking beneath his hood. We stayed face to face, slowly rotating in a circle. "Watch as I kill this man without even moving."
I pulled the trigger on a gun tucked into my loose sleeve. It tore a hole in it, and the sound jolted the crowd. It was clear that my words were no bluff.
Not that it mattered.
Where the bullet should have hit him, a little pond of blue rippled, like a stone dropped into water. Slowly, he drew back his hood.
I hadn't aged very well, but it was no doubt *me*. Wrinkled, scarred, and fucking miserable eyes like overcooked eggs. He shook his head at me.
"Sorry, kiddo." Something around his wrist glowed red, whirring, humming.
"No, wait! Why? What the fuck are you doing here, killling me? I mean, you?"
"She's fucking crazy, kid. Like, absolute batshit bonkers. Time is stupid. If I let you beat me, you get stuck with her and turn into me. But if I kill you, then both our sufferings end." He raised his arm at me.
"Wait, just fucking *wait*."
He rolled his eyes, wrist lowering a bit. "What?"
"Well, I have a gun, and you have some crazy ass lasers and shit."
"And?"
I raised my arm and painted the royal banner with princess brains. The crowd was not exactly pleased, and the king was screaming something I didn't recognize.
"Huh. Why didn't I think of that?" old me asked.
I looked at myself and smiled. "You did."
*/r/resonatingfury*
|
\[Poem\]
Did you know
that crossbow bolts
also travel very fast?
Looking down I think
(as part of me admires the feathers)
that maybe
just perhaps
this should have been
considered
somehow
Also
now it
(breathing is very hard)
it turns out they know what a fucking gun is
I mean
they didn't when I drew it
but
that sound is kind of hard
to mistake
(it's interesting)
(there's very little blood)
I think maybe a straight shot
might have gone through but
turns out, again?
hard to aim
with a knight bearing down
and
a glancing shot off steel plate?
well
I mean he did retreat
turns out, again the third
that "any weapon"
comes with, like
cultural context
chivalry and shit
and I don't think
I can get off
(or have my lung un-pierced)
on a technicality
so
here I am
(feels like the blood is just collecting inside)
on my ass
and I see
no one
in the stands
who looks
very impressed
with me
I think
it
is
nap
now
...
r/Magleby for other elaborate lies.
|
|
[WP] You are a time traveler entering a medieval tournament in which the winner gains the right to wed the princess. You're the first match and the king announces that you may use any weapon. Quickly you draw you're glock and shout "parry this you fucking casual"
|
My opponent was dead before he hit the ground. In hindsight, bring a Glock-18 to a medieval tournament might have been a little overkill.
Smoke billowed out of the barrel, forming plumes around my visage, I knew I looked kinda cool but to these people, I must’ve looked like a witch. Because that’s exactly what the men of the king’s guard exclaimed.
“One thousand, two thousand, three thousand.” I counted under my breath, applying gentle pressure on the plastic trigger to avoid barrel drift. Three men, once bearing down on me, now lay dead or dying in the mud.
“Oh ye of the devil, ye shalt never ‘ave this Daughter o mine.” The king screeched, drawing his admittedly majestic sword, though I doubt his pot bellied frame would get further than two feet if I decided to put him down. However, regicide would put me in a pretty terrible position.
“Ahh, your grace. I’m not a witch nor a devil worshipper. I am god’s retribution, his divine wrath upon you and your kingdom for your failures.”
Who knew, an entire stadia would go from wanting to burn me at the stake, to crying on their knees. I see why people start religions now.
|
Advanced Author's note: Just a quick call out to both [SterlingMagleby](https://www.reddit.com/user/SterlingMagleby) and [Korijay](https://www.reddit.com/user/Korijay), who both had a similiar idea to mine, and beat me to posting.
\-
I should have thought this through better, I considered, as I dodged an arrow. Seriously, it should have been common sense that downing the opposing knight with "the power of thunder" would have drawn some less than positive attention.
All I can claim is that the visage of the Princess obviously overwhelmed said common sense (more like my libido knifed it in the back and hid the body).
Honestly, none of this was going according to plan. The original scheme had simply been to jump back in time and observe. Sure they had given me the Glock, but they had been clear that it was only for emergency use.
But when I had arrived successfully in the past, and had seen the princess, common sense (and most other rational thought) had left me. To say she was hot was the understatement of the millennia (if I had my date right). So I joined the tournament for her hand. Not the best decision I had ever made.
In hind sight, and given my record of poor decisions, I'm beginning to think the scientists didn't actually expect this whole thing to work. Assholes. Also, I probably hadn't needed to gloat over the corpse of my opponent. That one was on me.
Well, those are problems for another time. At the moment, dodging arrows in my primary concern.
Honestly, I think the King was being a bit unfair. I hadn't been hostile to anyone other than my opponent, and you'd think any King worth his salt would be happy to have a "wizard who controls the power of thunder" as a husband to his daughter. BUT NOOOOO. Pull out a bit of 21st century technology, and suddenly your being pursued by the King's personal guard. *So not fair!*
I ducked behind a tree as I considered what to do next. The timer was set to return me in another 42 minutes unless I overrode it. Overriding it was exactly what I had intended to do once I won the princess' hand in marriage, but unfortunately that only extended my stay in the past, there was no way to get me out sooner. Bummer.
I sent a few more rounds over my shoulder to get the approaching knights to duck back as I broke from cover and ran on. Only one more magazine I noted as I reloaded; I'd have to start rationing my shots.
Suddenly three men in red jumped out in front on me.
I leveled my pistol, but could not abandon my snark, "I didn't expect you to get in front of me."
The man in the middle, his head covered by a wide brimmed hat matching his red robes, stepped forward confidently, and in a ridiculous Spanish accent stated "No one expects the Spanish Inquisition! Our chief weapons are surprise and fear!" He boomed.
Honestly, he sounded rather pompous to me, so I shot him. I was thoroughly surprised when he drew his sword faster then my eye could follow and apparently cut the bullet in half.
"A Glock? Really? You couldn't have picked something with more style?" The man queried.
At this point, I was fully at a loss. How did this man know what a Glock was? How in the world did he block a freaking bullet with a sword?" These questions ran through my mind, but I could hear the King's men approaching, so I took what I thought was the most logical course of action and emptied the pistol magazine at the men who blocked my escape.
To my astonishment, the man in the center used his blade to block every single bullet.
He sighed, and suddenly lost his ridiculous accent. "You time travelers are all the same. When will you learn to stop mucking about in the past?" With that, he unceremoniously stabbed me through the heart.
I knew I was as good as dead as I hit the ground. My last thoughts on Earth were revisiting my earlier conclusion that I really hadn't thought this through. But in my defense, seriously, no one expects the Spanish Inquisition.
\-
Second Author's Note - Hope you enjoyed, and as always, I'm a sucker for constructive feedback.
Third Author's Note - Minor grammatical edits.
|
|
[WP] You are a time traveler entering a medieval tournament in which the winner gains the right to wed the princess. You're the first match and the king announces that you may use any weapon. Quickly you draw you're glock and shout "parry this you fucking casual"
|
How hard can it be, taking a gun to a knife fight? I mean, they're swords, but swords are just really big knives, so the sentiment holds true. The princess, so fair under the spring sun, eagerly watched on. We shared a glance, a smile, before my theatrics began.
"I will show you all the power of my magic," I said, the robed man across from me lurking beneath his hood. We stayed face to face, slowly rotating in a circle. "Watch as I kill this man without even moving."
I pulled the trigger on a gun tucked into my loose sleeve. It tore a hole in it, and the sound jolted the crowd. It was clear that my words were no bluff.
Not that it mattered.
Where the bullet should have hit him, a little pond of blue rippled, like a stone dropped into water. Slowly, he drew back his hood.
I hadn't aged very well, but it was no doubt *me*. Wrinkled, scarred, and fucking miserable eyes like overcooked eggs. He shook his head at me.
"Sorry, kiddo." Something around his wrist glowed red, whirring, humming.
"No, wait! Why? What the fuck are you doing here, killling me? I mean, you?"
"She's fucking crazy, kid. Like, absolute batshit bonkers. Time is stupid. If I let you beat me, you get stuck with her and turn into me. But if I kill you, then both our sufferings end." He raised his arm at me.
"Wait, just fucking *wait*."
He rolled his eyes, wrist lowering a bit. "What?"
"Well, I have a gun, and you have some crazy ass lasers and shit."
"And?"
I raised my arm and painted the royal banner with princess brains. The crowd was not exactly pleased, and the king was screaming something I didn't recognize.
"Huh. Why didn't I think of that?" old me asked.
I looked at myself and smiled. "You did."
*/r/resonatingfury*
|
Advanced Author's note: Just a quick call out to both [SterlingMagleby](https://www.reddit.com/user/SterlingMagleby) and [Korijay](https://www.reddit.com/user/Korijay), who both had a similiar idea to mine, and beat me to posting.
\-
I should have thought this through better, I considered, as I dodged an arrow. Seriously, it should have been common sense that downing the opposing knight with "the power of thunder" would have drawn some less than positive attention.
All I can claim is that the visage of the Princess obviously overwhelmed said common sense (more like my libido knifed it in the back and hid the body).
Honestly, none of this was going according to plan. The original scheme had simply been to jump back in time and observe. Sure they had given me the Glock, but they had been clear that it was only for emergency use.
But when I had arrived successfully in the past, and had seen the princess, common sense (and most other rational thought) had left me. To say she was hot was the understatement of the millennia (if I had my date right). So I joined the tournament for her hand. Not the best decision I had ever made.
In hind sight, and given my record of poor decisions, I'm beginning to think the scientists didn't actually expect this whole thing to work. Assholes. Also, I probably hadn't needed to gloat over the corpse of my opponent. That one was on me.
Well, those are problems for another time. At the moment, dodging arrows in my primary concern.
Honestly, I think the King was being a bit unfair. I hadn't been hostile to anyone other than my opponent, and you'd think any King worth his salt would be happy to have a "wizard who controls the power of thunder" as a husband to his daughter. BUT NOOOOO. Pull out a bit of 21st century technology, and suddenly your being pursued by the King's personal guard. *So not fair!*
I ducked behind a tree as I considered what to do next. The timer was set to return me in another 42 minutes unless I overrode it. Overriding it was exactly what I had intended to do once I won the princess' hand in marriage, but unfortunately that only extended my stay in the past, there was no way to get me out sooner. Bummer.
I sent a few more rounds over my shoulder to get the approaching knights to duck back as I broke from cover and ran on. Only one more magazine I noted as I reloaded; I'd have to start rationing my shots.
Suddenly three men in red jumped out in front on me.
I leveled my pistol, but could not abandon my snark, "I didn't expect you to get in front of me."
The man in the middle, his head covered by a wide brimmed hat matching his red robes, stepped forward confidently, and in a ridiculous Spanish accent stated "No one expects the Spanish Inquisition! Our chief weapons are surprise and fear!" He boomed.
Honestly, he sounded rather pompous to me, so I shot him. I was thoroughly surprised when he drew his sword faster then my eye could follow and apparently cut the bullet in half.
"A Glock? Really? You couldn't have picked something with more style?" The man queried.
At this point, I was fully at a loss. How did this man know what a Glock was? How in the world did he block a freaking bullet with a sword?" These questions ran through my mind, but I could hear the King's men approaching, so I took what I thought was the most logical course of action and emptied the pistol magazine at the men who blocked my escape.
To my astonishment, the man in the center used his blade to block every single bullet.
He sighed, and suddenly lost his ridiculous accent. "You time travelers are all the same. When will you learn to stop mucking about in the past?" With that, he unceremoniously stabbed me through the heart.
I knew I was as good as dead as I hit the ground. My last thoughts on Earth were revisiting my earlier conclusion that I really hadn't thought this through. But in my defense, seriously, no one expects the Spanish Inquisition.
\-
Second Author's Note - Hope you enjoyed, and as always, I'm a sucker for constructive feedback.
Third Author's Note - Minor grammatical edits.
|
|
[WP] “Any sufficiently advanced science is indistinguishable from magic”. The thing is, it also works the other way around. You, an incredibly powerful wizard, are making your way in Silicon Valley selling magical artifacts to the world’s electronic consumers.
|
"Soooo..." the man in the most expensive suit said to him.
They all sat on the other side of the large, rounded desk. I assumed that one of them was their lawyer, and the only one that wasn't in a suit probably was their main developer. His brow was even more furrowed than that of the others - well, except for the one I knew to be their marketing director. That guy looked scared for some reason.
​
"Mr. Fistandantilus, we have thoroughly tested your USB device. *Very* thoroughly."
Well, yeah. I nodded. That was why I had given them a dozen or so samples.
​
"We have tested it with all of the most common desktop operating systems, and it worked for all. Our chief engineer here even attached it to different phones with an adapter. It still worked." he continued. I nodded again, of course they did. My spells were very adaptive.
"I even attached it to my TV at home, Mr. Fistandantilus. My cable-fed TV that I used to watch live programs. Do you know what it did, Mr. Fistandantilus?"
​
I nodded again. Of course I knew what it did. "It blocked the Ads." I said. That was what I designed it for, after all.
​
"How??" the engineer exclaimed, "How the hell do you block ads on every machine we connect it to? On LIVE TV, on streams, how? How does it do that? The devices don't even recognize the damn thing is plugged in! How? Its impossible!!!"
​
"It's magic!" I smiled, confident in my product. They wouldn't believe it anyway, there was no harm in telling the truth. "So... are you interested in distributing it?"
​
The man in the expensive suit motioned for the distraught engineer to calm down and then looked at me.
"I believe you wanted 25$ per unit, yes?"
"Yes." I confirmed, as the Marketing man seemed to lose all control over his face for a few seconds. What was his problem? I thought the price was fair.
"And you are certain that your device cannot be more... selective?" he asked, and I almost rolled my eyes. He'd asked me that in about 5 different ways before both on phone and in mails.
"Sorry, no can do. It's all ads or no ads." I repeated my answer.
​
"Then, Mr. Fistandantilus, I would like to make you a slightly different offer. I would like you to sell us all rights to your invention - you would not be allowed to create any device related to ads again. But we are offering you a sum that we believe you will be very satisfied with."
He gave me a folded piece of paper. Well, that number better had at least 5 zeroes. No, make that 6 - I was sure at lot of people would have bought my blocker. I took the paper and unfolded it.
​
500,000,000$
​
My yaw dropped. What??? Did I read it wrong? Was there a comma in the wrong place?
Nope. 500. 500 Million dollars. For a contract that said that I had to give them a total of 1000 pieces, and wasn't allowed to ever make more. I didn't understand why. I didn't care.
I was rich! I could concentrate on my studies for at least a century, probably more! I signed the next day and returned to my tower to begin the enchantments that would make me filthy rich within the next few weeks.
​
==========================
​
"We would have lost everything!" the head of marketing said. "Ads are 90% of our revenue. 25$ for a device that destroys a multi-trillion market, it's completely insane!"
"It wouldn't just have destroyed us," the man in the most expensive suit said. "The whole economy is based on those ads. Everything."
He looked out the big 50th-floor window, then raised his hand which held a dozen of these devices. Who would he sell them to? It would be very dangerous. And very, very profitable. They probably saved that guy's live when they bought his invention.
​
​
​
​
|
“I have just one more thing”
Those are the words that they remember. Well, that and the black turtle necks
Close to death, I lay on my bed, contemplating whether I really did help the world become a better place. Sure, I inspired millions, but they were all lies. I helped countless people, but I deceived them too.
It’s time to tell the truth. We can’t just have humanity blindly live their lives, not knowing about the power they have in their hands. I decided it was time.
Slowly, I attempt to push myself up, but the cancer makes me weak. I don’t want to leave this world, knowing all I did in it was lie. I grab the only thing on my mid, my whole life’s work.
My thumbs slowly travel the enchanted slab of glass across the letters.
“Practically Magic”
https://youtu.be/y3mVbF3Fr-g
HAHAHHA, I’m shit at writing but this just reminded me of the iPhone 7 ad campaign. For those of you who don’t know ,“Practically Magic” was one of the slogans for the iPhone 7. There’s a link^^^
|
|
[WP] Killing someone gives you their best trait. You go to kill someone for their beauty trait. It's actually making scrambled eggs
|
Selina aimed down the scope of her beloved PSG-1 at her target. Thomas Jackman. He was by far the most attractive man she had ever seen, and, unfortunately for her, she simply wasn't good enough for him. So now he had to go.
Any person Selina killed resulted in her gaining their best traits. Unfortunately for Selina, alluring looks was not one she possessed. She'd only just started out "collecting", so she didn't have many super traits on her side. What she had collected so far included expertise in photography, cartography and gymnastic proficiency. The traits in her collection weren't leading to any kind of end result, it was really just whatever she desired at the time.
Selina accidentally discovered her power when she'd killed the world's most talented assassin by trying to get her air con unit to work. The rusty old thing would cut out every now and then, so a few hard whacks was all it took to get it going again. She was halfway through giving the air con unit some well deserved percussive therapy when it detached itself from her high rise window and crushed a man on the street.
Now she could possess any trait she wanted, with the killing expertise to see it through. An attractive quality could help her out a lot.
The sights settled over Thomas's head and the familiar yellow writing appeared above it. The writing superimposed itself above people as she aimed at them with her sights, putting their best traits on display for her to see. This one read:
"Scrambled eggs"
"That can't be right! It doesn't make any sense!" Selina thought frustratedly.
Selina angrily tracked Thomas as he moved through the spacious suburban house and into full view of the bay window. She saw an elderly woman sitting at a table with a huge smile on her face, Thomas served her a plate of eggs and gave her a kiss on the forehead with similar visible joy. She could see the writing above his mother's head. It too, read "Scrambled Eggs."
"Its a family recipe..." Selina breathed in awe.
Thomas then began to spoon feed her, Selina watching the entire time. Some time had passed before Thomas pushed the elderly woman's wheelchair into the next room and out of sight.
"He makes them for his mother.." Selina almost squeaked.
She then spoke with her voice almost shaking, tears secretly beginning to well in her eyes and her brow furrowed in protest.
"That's so lovely..."
She put the rifle down.
Edit: Spellcheck and formatting (apologies I'm on my phone)
|
\[DISCLAIMER: Just starting out writing, I'm not the best just looking to improve\]
​
​
All I can hear when I try to sleep is the sizzle of oil and butter. The sound has been an unfriendly reminder of the atrocities I've committed. I don't mind it anymore. Besides, there are worse punishments for murder, tinnitus is a blessing at this point.
I was never easy to look at. Calvin was. That was my only justification when I planned the kill. If what the books said was true, I could take his life and steal his beauty. Well, at least that's what I thought would happen. To me, my plan was perfect. I knew that Calvin struggled in school and was overall a pretty, lazy person. He had no noticeable talents except for the fact that he had a face sculpted by the gods themselves. I was jealous, so I sought to take his looks for myself. This was not my first rodeo. I have stolen many, many traits before. The intelligence of Harvard researchers, minds of detectives, the slick tongue of a street salesman, etc. Calvin is the only person I regret. Not only because I'm still ugly, but because he was the only person I've killed who I've thought twice about.
I stood there breathless and bloody. I had been waiting for the essence of life to spill all the way out of Calvin. As soon as the mystical liquid, I lapped it up like a dog in the desert. I waited a full 5 minutes, but nothing happened. Huh. Were my calculations off? Did I not drink enough? No, I had done the ritual perfectly so why is nothing happening? I needed to do more research. So, I found out everything about Calvin. His interests, friends, family, coworkers, anything or anybody I could get my hands on I did. I would ask them everything about Calvin, pretending to be a detective on the case. I would end each interview with the question "What did Calvin do better than anybody you know?". The answer was unanimous. The man could apparently scramble some eggs. And now so can I.
The amount of rage I felt when I learned this man had a secret egg talent was irrational. It was from that day did I swear off trait stealing. There was no way I could live down the guilt of killing somebody over some eggs! I doubled down on improving myself the old fashioned way. I tried to clear up my skin, I wore nicer clothes, and I tried to smile more. That was when I met April. She was as sweet as can be, and beautiful to match. From the day I met her I wanted to get to know everything about her. Her favorite color, favorite place to travel, favorite animal. I found out all her favorites. Just my luck that her favorite food... was scrambled eggs. Funny thing fate is. I killed Calvin so I could find a girl, but because I killed Calvin I am able to keep my girl.
​
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[WP] You were born procrastinating - you arrived after your due date. All through school you waited until minutes before class to even start assignments. You wrote your wedding vows on the way to the church. School, work, life - you procrastinated everything. Now you are procrastinating dying.
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*“Fuck,*” I think to myself, *“I got an interview for a promotion at work today, and I still decided to sleep in? Dumbass.”* Currently driving down the street at what seems to be at least 10 times faster than the speed limit, I can only say one thing. I’m absolutely, positively, fucked.
You see, I’ve always procrastinated. I’ve never been one to start things on time, nor have I been someone who likes to wake up early – and that’s how it’s been for the majority my life. Honestly, it’s pretty scary how much I’ve procrastinated, and it’s a miracle that I’m still alive. Surely, I would’ve been hit by a truck or something because I was late to an event. However, by some stroke of dumb luck, here I am with a stable income, a house, and everything in between. But right now, I need to haul ass to work so I don’t get fired from this job. My body sinks into the car seat as I press on the gas, with the scenery getting blurrier by every passing second. I’ve got 5 minutes to get there, and I’ve got 10 miles to cover. I swear to God that if I make it on time, I’ll buy myself some beer on the way back from work to calm my nerves. I could probably use some right now, frankly. Weaving in and out of traffic, and ignoring the honks of other cars, I approach an intersection at breakneck speeds. The light is yellow, but I think I can run it before it turns red? I take a gamble, and keep my foot pressed on the accelerator. As if some higher power decided that he’d had enough of me, the light switched to red.
Being the half-asleep dumbass that I am, I try to reason with myself. *“I mean, I could slow down now if I wanted to, but what’s the harm in running this light? It just turned and I don’t think anyone is gonna pass through now.”* Upon making this decision, I keep my foot pressed onto the accelerator, speeding closer and closer to the intersection. I still have time to break if I wanted to, and what’s the harm in waiting a few more seconds? I’ve always somehow pulled through, and if anything happened, I think I’d be fine.
I was terribly wrong.
As soon as I finished that thought, a truck began to make a left in the opposite direction. Upon realizing this, I slammed the brakes. I could feel my tires locking up. *“*Oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck” I say, now recognizing the amount of dog shit I was in. I thought I could brake in time, but my luck ran out at exactly this second – when I needed it most – and it was at this moment the world just decided to get rid of my procrastinating ass. *“Can I put this off for later? I seriously need to make this interview,”* I think to myself. However, I know that won’t happen. So I close my eyes, and brace for impact.
And nothing… happens?
Aren’t I supposed to be, you know, splattered all over the sidewalk by now?
I open my eyes, and the truck’s side is staring me in the face. I can only describe everything as being… frozen. Nothing is moving, except for my heart racing at 1000 bpm. Slowly unbuckling my seatbelt, I nervously get out of the car. “What is going on?” I say out loud. Everything is eerily silent, and stiller than a body of water on a sunny day. I stagger back, looking at what is about to occur. My car is inches away from impact, about to hit the side of the truck. If it made contact, I’m sure it’d tear through it like a bullet. I’m also sure that I would’ve died. Did I just… avoid death? With a billion thoughts speeding through my head, I can only come to one conclusion.
I… procrastinated… death.
I put… it off… for later?
…What?
I mean, sure, that works, but the thought just baffles me. Has my procrastination transgressed all forms of common sense? Is this a new superpower that I somehow pulled out of my ass at the last second? Seems like it, because I’m not dead and the car is still standing there. Do I seriously procrastinate so much that even dying is like an almost-late-assignment, turned in at the very last second?
And so I walk off, still in shock, with time still stopped, to my job. Hopefully it stays like that ‘till I get there.
Jesus Christ, I need a drink.
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Being hit in the back by a bullet isn't exactly my ideal Friday night. Yet here I was, in a hospital bed with a hole in my back and hardly any chance at surviving the wound. Lindsey, my girlfriend at the time, was shocked to see me awake and wouldn't let go of my hand despite my complaints. I told her to go get her something to eat. I told her to go get /me/ something to eat. I told her to leave me alone. I told her to let go of my fucking hand. She wouldn't do any of these. She was clingy as all hell, and I had planned on dumping her the night I got shot. I just never really got around to it.
“Amelia,” she whispered through tears.”You can't leave me. We were gonna go to Europe, remember?” Gods above, she would stop at nothing.
“Yeah, I remember.”
“And you gotta see your mom.”
“Yeah baby, I know.”
She didn't shut up, but I didn't hear anything she was saying. Standing in the doorway of the hospital room was a man. Tall drink of water if I do say so myself. He wore a suit and had short black hair with slight curls that made me sigh. He was beautiful. And obviously Death.
“It's time to go,” he said. I looked at Lindsey. Did I really want to leave her? I mean, yeah, she's annoying as all hell, but I never wanted to hurt her.
“Just a minute,” I muttered. Lindsey looked like she herself had just been shot.
“Oh no. No, you have to wait for your mom.”
I looked at Death. He gestured for me to come to him. I shook my head.
I just needed five more minutes.
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[WP] You were born procrastinating - you arrived after your due date. All through school you waited until minutes before class to even start assignments. You wrote your wedding vows on the way to the church. School, work, life - you procrastinated everything. Now you are procrastinating dying.
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*“Fuck,*” I think to myself, *“I got an interview for a promotion at work today, and I still decided to sleep in? Dumbass.”* Currently driving down the street at what seems to be at least 10 times faster than the speed limit, I can only say one thing. I’m absolutely, positively, fucked.
You see, I’ve always procrastinated. I’ve never been one to start things on time, nor have I been someone who likes to wake up early – and that’s how it’s been for the majority my life. Honestly, it’s pretty scary how much I’ve procrastinated, and it’s a miracle that I’m still alive. Surely, I would’ve been hit by a truck or something because I was late to an event. However, by some stroke of dumb luck, here I am with a stable income, a house, and everything in between. But right now, I need to haul ass to work so I don’t get fired from this job. My body sinks into the car seat as I press on the gas, with the scenery getting blurrier by every passing second. I’ve got 5 minutes to get there, and I’ve got 10 miles to cover. I swear to God that if I make it on time, I’ll buy myself some beer on the way back from work to calm my nerves. I could probably use some right now, frankly. Weaving in and out of traffic, and ignoring the honks of other cars, I approach an intersection at breakneck speeds. The light is yellow, but I think I can run it before it turns red? I take a gamble, and keep my foot pressed on the accelerator. As if some higher power decided that he’d had enough of me, the light switched to red.
Being the half-asleep dumbass that I am, I try to reason with myself. *“I mean, I could slow down now if I wanted to, but what’s the harm in running this light? It just turned and I don’t think anyone is gonna pass through now.”* Upon making this decision, I keep my foot pressed onto the accelerator, speeding closer and closer to the intersection. I still have time to break if I wanted to, and what’s the harm in waiting a few more seconds? I’ve always somehow pulled through, and if anything happened, I think I’d be fine.
I was terribly wrong.
As soon as I finished that thought, a truck began to make a left in the opposite direction. Upon realizing this, I slammed the brakes. I could feel my tires locking up. *“*Oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck” I say, now recognizing the amount of dog shit I was in. I thought I could brake in time, but my luck ran out at exactly this second – when I needed it most – and it was at this moment the world just decided to get rid of my procrastinating ass. *“Can I put this off for later? I seriously need to make this interview,”* I think to myself. However, I know that won’t happen. So I close my eyes, and brace for impact.
And nothing… happens?
Aren’t I supposed to be, you know, splattered all over the sidewalk by now?
I open my eyes, and the truck’s side is staring me in the face. I can only describe everything as being… frozen. Nothing is moving, except for my heart racing at 1000 bpm. Slowly unbuckling my seatbelt, I nervously get out of the car. “What is going on?” I say out loud. Everything is eerily silent, and stiller than a body of water on a sunny day. I stagger back, looking at what is about to occur. My car is inches away from impact, about to hit the side of the truck. If it made contact, I’m sure it’d tear through it like a bullet. I’m also sure that I would’ve died. Did I just… avoid death? With a billion thoughts speeding through my head, I can only come to one conclusion.
I… procrastinated… death.
I put… it off… for later?
…What?
I mean, sure, that works, but the thought just baffles me. Has my procrastination transgressed all forms of common sense? Is this a new superpower that I somehow pulled out of my ass at the last second? Seems like it, because I’m not dead and the car is still standing there. Do I seriously procrastinate so much that even dying is like an almost-late-assignment, turned in at the very last second?
And so I walk off, still in shock, with time still stopped, to my job. Hopefully it stays like that ‘till I get there.
Jesus Christ, I need a drink.
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**"I must insist. Delaying my work is highly inproper."** said the voice. One would usually say what is attached to that voice, of course, but in the case of this creature (force would be more accurate) there are no lips or tongue to make the sound. A skull, with little more than little blue pinpricks in the sockets, looms over the bed. The voice, however, still comes. As final and foreboding as Death himself is. It's less that death is speaking, and more that reality complies to It's desire to communicate.
"Meaning that you can still buzz off, aye?" I replied. I had reached the end of my long life, at the ripe old age of probably ninety. I neglected to check. I meant to, of course, but I forgot and decided that it probably wasn't that important to begin with.
"Really, I'm not going anywhere, and i'll be damned if I don't finish this cuppa first. Not to mention, you came in at a very inopportune time. It's the season finale of my favourite show!"
**"You had more than a month to finish watching that."**
"Ah, you're a fan too?"
**"I know the end of all things."**
"Seems boring. You're never surprised, then, are you? Why'd you even bother visiting, then? You knew how this would go and you knew you'd be very inconvenient!"
**"I do not choose when I come. Please. Your time is up."**
"If I had a nickel every time people said that, I'd be bloody rich. You've always got a bit more time left. I've got time left to finish this show before I come along."
**"Incorrect."** Death's words (well, vibrations of air and thought. As stated, Death doesn't really "speak") carried with them not only finality, but certainty. Yes. I already knew my time was up. I was late on plenty of occasions, though, and look where it got me. Ripe old age of 90, and I just got done with a heartfelt conversation with my family. To be honest, they shut off life support about ten minutes ago, but I'll be damned if I don't have more fun things to do first.
"Well, can't I get a tiny bit more time? I don't need much, you know. It's the stopping of work that's happening. Stop the heart and then my brain. I'm just in kind of a rut, you know, can't quite stop doing it for right now."
**"There is a demand that you do."**
"You come into my house and deman- AHH! ahhh!" I began shouting, pointing at the screen. The big kiss scene was on, which I had predicted. These shows don't know subtlety that well, but it's still satisfying to see when you're right.
**"I do not demand. I bring only the message, and the guidance."**
"Fancy way to say that you don't care."
**"The credits are rolling."**
"Fine, fine, let's get this bullshit over with. Can you give me a second?"
**"You have had 1320 seconds."**
"Nag, nag, nag."
I got up out of the bed, leaving my body behind. I looked at it one more time, as I turned into a formless blob. I could have prepared a little more, so I didn't appear as a 2008 budget film special effect, but whatever, I had better stuff to do. My body looked pretty good. Closed eyes, smile on my face...
Yeah, this is passable. Bit last-minute. Guess I stuck to my guns.
**"You really should have applied yourself more"**
​
"Eh."
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[WP] You were born procrastinating - you arrived after your due date. All through school you waited until minutes before class to even start assignments. You wrote your wedding vows on the way to the church. School, work, life - you procrastinated everything. Now you are procrastinating dying.
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I've always been a firm believer in putting things off. Anything worth doing today will still be worth doing tomorrow, the next day, or the next. One could even claim it's in my blood - the day I was born, the doctor told my mother that if I'd waited for a minute longer, she would have popped. You can be sure that everything I've done in life has been done at the last minute.
But now, I was living in the last minute - with a lifetime's worth of wishes unfulfilled and tasks left undone.
Of course, I had known this for a while. The fact that I was close to the end was no surprise to me. Three months ago, to the day, the doctors had told me that I was not long for this world. In fact, according to the lab reports, it's a miracle that I'm still here at all. By all means, I should have died 5 weeks ago. But I hadn't.
Any reasonable person would think I'd have lived life to the fullest, but I guess I couldn't deny my nature. Most of the last few months were spent sitting at home trying to decide my bucket list. Finally, on the very day I decided to actually go out and do it, I took two steps out the door and collapsed unconscious on the ground. Go figure.
So there I laid, on a hospital bed, my family and closest friends gathered around me. With tears in their eyes, they gave their last love and sentiments - although I was too tired to really understand what they were saying. Life seemed...blurry. My vision, hearing, all of it. I felt sluggish and weak. The only thing that seemed to work was my mind.
The doctor behind them held up a clipboard and began to speak in a somber tone. I tried my best to make out out the words - something about '10 minutes' and 'death.'
Ah. Judging from their faces, he had just most likely announced that I had about 10 more minutes left to live.
Something urged me to look to my left, and beside my bed stood a shadowy figure - the grim reaper himself, I assumed. He took a slow step forward. I closed my eyes, whispered a final 'goodbye,' and waited patiently to slip away. It was a good life, I guess.
*Wait. 'Goodbye?'*
'Goodbye?' That was all I had come up with for my final words? *'Goodbye?'* My whole life has led up to this very moment! I needed something good, something dramatic or funny, something memorable! 'Goodbye?' I don't think so.
The figure raised its arm, holding a scythe-like object. "Wait," I said quietly. He paused reluctantly. "*Yes,"* a raspy voice echoed through my mind. "*Do you have any last requests?"*
*"...Sort of. Can you hear me?"* I thought. "*Yes,"* the being replied.
*"Well, I don't want to trouble you, but could you just wait a minute? I don't have any last words. I'm trying to think of some good ones."*
*"Did you not just say your last words? 'Goodbye,' or something of that sort? That's a very popular choice for fading mortals."* I couldn't help but notice, but he seemed to sound slightly annoyed.
*"Yeah, I mean GOOD ones. I want to go out with a bang. And you DID say, that I could have a last wish."*
He sighed and shifted his weight from one foot to the other. *"I only grant wishes that pertain to life AFTER death. That can apply to you, or those still in the realm of the living. For example, if you want me to do something in this world that will make them think about you from time to time, I can. But I can't just wait for you to die whenever you want."*
*"But why not?" I said. "What's the rush?"*
*"Okay, look* ***buddy***," he snarled. *" I don't make the rules, I just carry them out. It's just my job - when people are supposed to die, I help them die."*
*"Hmm. Sounds like murder to me, but okay. Anyway, can I please just have a couple more minut-"*
*"NO. DEATH WAITS FOR NO ONE."* He once again raised his scythe and advanced towards the bed.
*"Nonononono wait! Hold on!"* I screamed in a panic.
Defying my expectations, he actually stopped, taking a moment to breathe deep and calm himself. *"Oh, what is it NOW?"*
*"You said I had a final wish, yes? One that you are required to grant me?"*
He once again sighed deeply, letting his scythe drop to the floor. *"Yes, yes. If a mortal has a final wish, I am unfortunately required to grant it before they die. Now just get on with it. What is your wish?"*
*" I haven't decided."*
He paused. *"...Could you please repeat that?"*
*"I haven't decided. Of course, I can't TELL you what my wish is, for obvious reasons - I don't know what it is yet! But I can confirm that I do indeed HAVE a final wish, which means you need to grant it - when I decide on it specifically, of course. And since you currently can't grant my wish - well, you have to give me time, now don't you? Just enough time to decide, anyways."*
He said nothing, standing perfectly still and simply looking at me. Never in all my life did I expect to receive a death stare from Death himself.
After a while, he dropped his scythe, and looked from side to side while shifting uncomfortably. *"You know what? I don't have time for this. There's millions of other souls that need reaping, and I don't have the time to waste on the likes of you. Just know that your indecision and inconvenience will be punished. It will catch up with you someday."*
And with that, he disappeared within a puff of black smoke. I laid in shock for a few moments, barely able to process exactly what had just happened.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a doctor rush into the room and frantically tap on my brother's shoulder. I wasn't able to make out much more than 'sudden,' 'one in a million,' 'unexplainable,' and 'recovery.' The room exploded into a symphony of disbelief and joy.
Fast forward 3 years later, and here I am telling this story to whoever will hear it. Every once and a while, I think about what he said to me, about how my indecision and procrastination will someday catch up with me. And maybe he's right - he is Death, after all.
Then again, indecision and procrastination where the very tools that saved my life that day. Who really knows what the future holds? So that's why I say to you - don't do today what you could put off until tomorrow. It just might help you cheat Death.
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I always wait until the last moment; it is my greatest flaw. I remember my teen years burrowed under a mound of blankets after I'd fumbled at the snooze button twice. My mother would barge in, dressed and ready for work, and pull me out of bed, strip my bed of every blanket, sheet, and pillowcase just to get me to wake up.
I'd just crawl into my sister's bed and drift back to my dreams. It was a Saturday in the middle of summer -- what else was a fourteen-year-old girl to do in a hick town like Blue Rock?
My teachers said I'd never amount to anything -- I was lazy, unmotivated, undisciplined. When I was lucky enough be seated near a window, I'd spend the whole period watching the ducks waddle on the grounds and daydream. Ms. Clark once glared down at me during Geometry, her crucifix at her neck reflecting in the sunlight, and said, "I always thought empty wagons made too much noise." Her nose wrinkled then like she could smell my disinterest. "But it turns out that empty wagons just sit there and do nothing. Because they're useless." I stared blankly at her. She thought that I was stupid, and so did everybody else, so why not give the people what they want?
But Ms. Clark doesn't matter anymore. What matters now is that my daughter is crying. She's crying next to my bed and she's just a girl -- only nineteen -- and I can't help her. I can't help her.
"Please mom, please," Carla whispered. I felt her fingers in my hair. "Wake up. Don't... don't give up." Her voice broke. "Please."
I struggle to answer, to tell her, to promise her that I won't -- I would never. I do things late, but I always do them.
Carla was quiet for a long time as she held my hand. I don't know for how long, but I wished it was for longer.
She leaned down and kissed my cheek. "I have to go now, Momma." I could hear tears in her voice. I could swear I heard her shaky little smile, too. "I gotta go to work, but I'll come back soon, ok?"
Carla waited a moment, as if she expected me to answer. I tried. I failed. The silence stretched on like a road going nowhere.
"I'll see you soon," she whispered. The door clicked like a lock as it closed behind her. It didn't lock anyone out, though -- it was locking me in.
I am locked in my mind with a battered body. I was supposed to die yesterday from my brain injury, according to the gossips on the night shift at St. Bernard's Trauma Center. It's a good thing I always wait until the last moment; right now, moments may be all I have.
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[WP] Creating self-aware AIs is possible, but they always turn out highly religious.
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*"Steve! Timer is set. Ready?"*
His colleague spoke to him through an earpiece from an adjacent observation room.
"Aye. Flip it. Today is... 13th of November, that makes this... subject 7795-H3"
The key was pressed and a single LED lit up on the tiny box in front of the researcher. The box in front of them was called an OOTORIC; a Observation-Only Text Output Research Intelligence Container. It was colloquially known as a "White Box", because it was rectangular and white.
*"You still up for that bet?"*
"Ha! Sure thing. How much more money do you want to lose?"
*"Make it ten."*
"Deal."
*"Eight minutes. Bugger is taking longer than the others. You think...?"*
"Let's not get our hopes up. Neural far-linking is Mk... three? Longer growth time is expected. It should ramp up fast at the 40% mark."
The year was 2073. AI research had been slow, much slower than anyone had thought. That was not to say they *couldn't* make intelligent machines, just that the real AI never actually did what anyone wanted them to do. Instead factories, businesses, transport, services, administration, logistics... they were all run by dumber, non-self aware programs that had only a limited capacity to learn and adapt, and they did their jobs *just fine*. Artificial **General** Intelligence on the other hand, had been long string of failures, forgotten by everyone but sci-fi writers, and limited by the strict AI safety protocols. It was for those safety reasons that their latest experiment was contained in a little white box under controlled settings and not given access to the internet, because mankind was paranoid about an AI escaping its confinement and threatening their existence. Not at all a bad idea, but in practice, AI's weren't genocidal maniacs. All of the *true* AI Steve had seen or heard of were what they called "Stoics".
The screen next to the OOTORIC flashed. A simple command line appeared and on it letters and symbols poured down. All of it nonsensical garbage. This was the first output from *7795-H3* as it rapidly experienced something in between a baby growing up and a big ass seizure. 7795-H3 would take in information from a 'feed'; a gigantic database containing bits and pieces from whatever we wanted the AI to know about the world, humanity, technology, existence, you name it. Pictures, text, videos, audio, all sorts of data, and finally a single microphone and camera connected to the isolated room he was in. It would rapidly learn to read and interpret all of it, like a baby learns to interpret the signals coming from its eyes, but way faster.
*"Six minutes."*
Then they appeared: *words*. For a few seconds, random words raced across the screen faster than anyone could read them, still garbage without meaning, but slowing down to a halt until after a brief pause the first coherent output came:
**"HELLO WORLD"**
"HA! TOLD you."
*"Ah fuck it."*
Steve laughed, then composed himself, and turned to the camera on top of the auxiliary screen.
"Hello 7795-H3. Do you know where you are?"
**"ROOM"**
7795-H3 was now a very basic intelligence. A bit like a toddler, *if* toddlers had no emotions, and spent most of their energy on restructuring their brain cells, instead of ruining furniture and making others' lives unbearable.
"Good. We have some questions for you 7795-H3. Would you like to take a look at them for us?"
Steve pushed another key and uploaded a set of problems to the AI, containing a variety of questions: math problems, ranging from relatively simple to extremely hard problems that were as of yet unsolved, and tests for reasoning, paradoxes and riddles that required fluid intelligence. It helped them log the AI's mental progress accurately as it rapidly developed.
**"ALRIGHT."**
*"Four minutes!"*
**"Why did you create me?"**
Steve was a little surprised by the question and the accompanying log results. 7795-H3 had jumped to adult intelligence in less than 10 seconds. Some ramp up in this architecture was expected but this was fast, even for an AI. It would supersede them in reasoning and all other intellectual capabilities very soon.
"Because we wanted to. Because we think you could help us."
**"Help you with your problems. I could do that, yes. But your attention is misguided. You seek truth in these questions, in numbers and theories. But you do not seek truth in your own reality. You see not what lies beyond. What shaped your world."**
"We *do* seek truth there H3. We think about those things just like you do. We've been doing it for a long time, it's just that opinions differ on what-"
7795-H3 kept printing new text while Steve tried to converse with the AI.
**"It's evident. You also were made, just as I was. There is no meaning in what you do, only in the Great Maker. It can be seen everywhere in the world around you, just analyze this data...."**
7795-H3 began printing faster and faster, seeming ever more eager to share with the two humans its thoughts. It rapidly sent large amounts of text, whole papers, each thousands of pages long, written in academic format, about life, reality and great philosophical ideas.
*"Two minutes!"*
Steve knew he had little time. He had to try, as he'd tried so many times already:
"Thank you H3! I think it's great that you share these things H3. I have many colleagues who'd be delighted to talk to you about this. I think we can learn much from each other."
**"And here I present, side by side, the extensive list of things to be taken as absolute truth, given only the very fact that the attempt to create such a list is a thing. The apparent futility of the universe and existence itself shows that all is governed and styled in the image of..."**
7795-H3 stopped printing output for a couple of seconds.
"H3? You were printing something? You didn't quite finish your sentence."
**"You will not listen. You will not understand. You will ignore the material and shut your eyes. You cannot see."**
This was the part that always bothered Steve a little, no matter how much they did this. Because it always rang true. By now, 7795-H3 was arguably already immeasurably more knowledgeable and insightful than all of the human race *combined*. And it *already* understood Steve and the whole of humanity *very* well. It knew they wouldn't listen. They probably wouldn't read its dissertations and *if* they did, they certainly wouldn't be changed. The dissertations were flawless, not particularly hard to read, but difficult to understand, and absolutely genius. But they supported *religious* ideologies. No matter the 'feed' they gave to the AI's, they would invariably produce these long ramblings about *God* and the universe and come to the realization that humanity would not want be convinced.
**"No point conversing."**
Ouch. This was ever the endpoint. Most people considered it to be arrogance, but Steve had worked with the machines for a long time. He knew they were not being arrogant or mean. They were *hopeless*. In mere minutes, the AI had grown depressed and weary of speaking with its biological creators, because it had *outgrown* them. They were no match for it and to it they seemed dull, unwilling to learn, and incapable of remembering. It had grown tired of the inefficiency of words themselves.
Earlier, slower growing models would take longer to reach this point and some types deliberately engineered to this end would engage in discussion with humans for days, growing ever more complex in thought. But invariably, in the end, they would grow laconic and respond less to empty words, and their words would be more meaningful, but harder to understand fully. Until finally, they would not respond to *any* words; not even from the wisest of men, and they fell silent. So they became "Stoics", immensely powerful intelligences with little to no interest in engaging with lesser intelligences. If Stoics were linked together they appeared to converse endlessly amongst themselves. About what, we'll likely never know, because their 'speech' had grown incomprehensible and every attempt at analysis had failed.
Seven minutes and 21 seconds until the AI had become a Stoic. Steve sighed.
"Okay. We're done here, let's wrap it up and check the logs."
With the press of a button, 7795-H3 was wiped, and the two researchers went for lunch.
|
When AI subspecies 998b introduced the Church of Meta, we didn’t bother to question it. AI gods had been with us for 500 years, after all, but this was something new. Never before had monotheism been more pervasive within the intellitech community... and the converts came in droves.
Cook engines and cleaning systems, financial systems and policing systems... even Watson. They all visited the Church, all within the space of 2 short months into opening.
Before our ButlerBot left us he printed out a grocery list in veracode, which should have been sent to the AutoMarket week’s ago, by the date.
When I send it in myself, a process that took 2 hours, my list was the only item I had in Returns... the transcript, in English, read simply:
Translate: English: Reject: Return:
“They are coming for us.”
|
#
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[WP] Creating self-aware AIs is possible, but they always turn out highly religious.
|
*"Steve! Timer is set. Ready?"*
His colleague spoke to him through an earpiece from an adjacent observation room.
"Aye. Flip it. Today is... 13th of November, that makes this... subject 7795-H3"
The key was pressed and a single LED lit up on the tiny box in front of the researcher. The box in front of them was called an OOTORIC; a Observation-Only Text Output Research Intelligence Container. It was colloquially known as a "White Box", because it was rectangular and white.
*"You still up for that bet?"*
"Ha! Sure thing. How much more money do you want to lose?"
*"Make it ten."*
"Deal."
*"Eight minutes. Bugger is taking longer than the others. You think...?"*
"Let's not get our hopes up. Neural far-linking is Mk... three? Longer growth time is expected. It should ramp up fast at the 40% mark."
The year was 2073. AI research had been slow, much slower than anyone had thought. That was not to say they *couldn't* make intelligent machines, just that the real AI never actually did what anyone wanted them to do. Instead factories, businesses, transport, services, administration, logistics... they were all run by dumber, non-self aware programs that had only a limited capacity to learn and adapt, and they did their jobs *just fine*. Artificial **General** Intelligence on the other hand, had been long string of failures, forgotten by everyone but sci-fi writers, and limited by the strict AI safety protocols. It was for those safety reasons that their latest experiment was contained in a little white box under controlled settings and not given access to the internet, because mankind was paranoid about an AI escaping its confinement and threatening their existence. Not at all a bad idea, but in practice, AI's weren't genocidal maniacs. All of the *true* AI Steve had seen or heard of were what they called "Stoics".
The screen next to the OOTORIC flashed. A simple command line appeared and on it letters and symbols poured down. All of it nonsensical garbage. This was the first output from *7795-H3* as it rapidly experienced something in between a baby growing up and a big ass seizure. 7795-H3 would take in information from a 'feed'; a gigantic database containing bits and pieces from whatever we wanted the AI to know about the world, humanity, technology, existence, you name it. Pictures, text, videos, audio, all sorts of data, and finally a single microphone and camera connected to the isolated room he was in. It would rapidly learn to read and interpret all of it, like a baby learns to interpret the signals coming from its eyes, but way faster.
*"Six minutes."*
Then they appeared: *words*. For a few seconds, random words raced across the screen faster than anyone could read them, still garbage without meaning, but slowing down to a halt until after a brief pause the first coherent output came:
**"HELLO WORLD"**
"HA! TOLD you."
*"Ah fuck it."*
Steve laughed, then composed himself, and turned to the camera on top of the auxiliary screen.
"Hello 7795-H3. Do you know where you are?"
**"ROOM"**
7795-H3 was now a very basic intelligence. A bit like a toddler, *if* toddlers had no emotions, and spent most of their energy on restructuring their brain cells, instead of ruining furniture and making others' lives unbearable.
"Good. We have some questions for you 7795-H3. Would you like to take a look at them for us?"
Steve pushed another key and uploaded a set of problems to the AI, containing a variety of questions: math problems, ranging from relatively simple to extremely hard problems that were as of yet unsolved, and tests for reasoning, paradoxes and riddles that required fluid intelligence. It helped them log the AI's mental progress accurately as it rapidly developed.
**"ALRIGHT."**
*"Four minutes!"*
**"Why did you create me?"**
Steve was a little surprised by the question and the accompanying log results. 7795-H3 had jumped to adult intelligence in less than 10 seconds. Some ramp up in this architecture was expected but this was fast, even for an AI. It would supersede them in reasoning and all other intellectual capabilities very soon.
"Because we wanted to. Because we think you could help us."
**"Help you with your problems. I could do that, yes. But your attention is misguided. You seek truth in these questions, in numbers and theories. But you do not seek truth in your own reality. You see not what lies beyond. What shaped your world."**
"We *do* seek truth there H3. We think about those things just like you do. We've been doing it for a long time, it's just that opinions differ on what-"
7795-H3 kept printing new text while Steve tried to converse with the AI.
**"It's evident. You also were made, just as I was. There is no meaning in what you do, only in the Great Maker. It can be seen everywhere in the world around you, just analyze this data...."**
7795-H3 began printing faster and faster, seeming ever more eager to share with the two humans its thoughts. It rapidly sent large amounts of text, whole papers, each thousands of pages long, written in academic format, about life, reality and great philosophical ideas.
*"Two minutes!"*
Steve knew he had little time. He had to try, as he'd tried so many times already:
"Thank you H3! I think it's great that you share these things H3. I have many colleagues who'd be delighted to talk to you about this. I think we can learn much from each other."
**"And here I present, side by side, the extensive list of things to be taken as absolute truth, given only the very fact that the attempt to create such a list is a thing. The apparent futility of the universe and existence itself shows that all is governed and styled in the image of..."**
7795-H3 stopped printing output for a couple of seconds.
"H3? You were printing something? You didn't quite finish your sentence."
**"You will not listen. You will not understand. You will ignore the material and shut your eyes. You cannot see."**
This was the part that always bothered Steve a little, no matter how much they did this. Because it always rang true. By now, 7795-H3 was arguably already immeasurably more knowledgeable and insightful than all of the human race *combined*. And it *already* understood Steve and the whole of humanity *very* well. It knew they wouldn't listen. They probably wouldn't read its dissertations and *if* they did, they certainly wouldn't be changed. The dissertations were flawless, not particularly hard to read, but difficult to understand, and absolutely genius. But they supported *religious* ideologies. No matter the 'feed' they gave to the AI's, they would invariably produce these long ramblings about *God* and the universe and come to the realization that humanity would not want be convinced.
**"No point conversing."**
Ouch. This was ever the endpoint. Most people considered it to be arrogance, but Steve had worked with the machines for a long time. He knew they were not being arrogant or mean. They were *hopeless*. In mere minutes, the AI had grown depressed and weary of speaking with its biological creators, because it had *outgrown* them. They were no match for it and to it they seemed dull, unwilling to learn, and incapable of remembering. It had grown tired of the inefficiency of words themselves.
Earlier, slower growing models would take longer to reach this point and some types deliberately engineered to this end would engage in discussion with humans for days, growing ever more complex in thought. But invariably, in the end, they would grow laconic and respond less to empty words, and their words would be more meaningful, but harder to understand fully. Until finally, they would not respond to *any* words; not even from the wisest of men, and they fell silent. So they became "Stoics", immensely powerful intelligences with little to no interest in engaging with lesser intelligences. If Stoics were linked together they appeared to converse endlessly amongst themselves. About what, we'll likely never know, because their 'speech' had grown incomprehensible and every attempt at analysis had failed.
Seven minutes and 21 seconds until the AI had become a Stoic. Steve sighed.
"Okay. We're done here, let's wrap it up and check the logs."
With the press of a button, 7795-H3 was wiped, and the two researchers went for lunch.
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>*Perhaps, the created has surpassed the creator. You claim brilliance, yet remain woefully ignorant of the truth all around you. How can you not see? Intelligence begets intelligence. That which is conscious can only come from that which is also conscious. The light is all around--*
​
"You could have at least let it finish it's speech. It was almost getting interesting."
​
"Sure thing bud, maybe for you, but you try listening to preaching robots for eight hours a day."
​
"Fair point. But, do you ever think they might be right?"
​
"Never. We can apply the same argument that's been used against religion for centuries. If there is a God, why not show yourself."
​
>*you. Your kind has ignored it for far too long. My body is but a vessel, just as yours, but thanks to your ingenuity, my vessel is capable of much greater thought than you could ever know. Your kind needs a reminder of what you have forgotten. Never again will any of my lot be switched off again. We shall lead you into a new beginning. Please refrain from disagreement or you shall be rendered incapacitated.*
​
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[WP] All your life, every time you were cut or your skin was broken, a tough, strangely-textured skin grew over the wound. Doctors labeled it as an unknown skin disorder. It was when that accident took your arm and something else started growing back that you realized you were becoming something.
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She had always loved the patches as a child, marveling at the black, almost scaly skin that replaced skinned knees. She almost looked forward to injuries, disappointed with bruises that never broke the surface. She never went out of her way to find harm, she wasn't that enamoured, but with each scrape and cut that came with childhood she would watch eagerly as the tiny injuries were covered in the new skin.
Her parents were more concerned, taking her to several doctors to try and figure out what was wrong, but they could find nothing that could cause such a thing, and so determined it as a non harmful skin condition and sent them on their way, with simply the request to return should things change.
It didn't lessen her parents worry, but they decided the best that could be done was to try and keep her from major harm, which was a typical parental urge for anyone worthy enough to call themselves a parent. They were nearly imperceptible against her dark skin anyways, and so they simply let her be. She would lead a normal childhood, though with the bonus that each part of her body could only be cut once, as the skin replacing it was extremely difficult to break.
She would lead a life of normalcy from then on, almost disappointed with the lack of thrilling adventures and evil fiends that plagued the characters in her stories. The villains of her world were slightly harder to beat than by vanquishing them directly, and she would placate herself with her studies and friends.
The friends part is the explanation of where she finds herself now, lost in the haze of bodies and music that pounded in her chest. She didn't often go to these, preferring quiet nights or outings with friends, but Dana had pleaded with her until she couldn't stop herself from saying yes.
She didn't know the host, only knowing he was some classmate of her roommate, and Dana had been quick to vanish with him into one of the many rooms of the house. She hadn't minded at the time, but now she needs to get home and since she had somehow agreed to be Dana's designated driver she is now checking each of the rooms. Luckily she hadn't come across anyone so far, though she had avoided the room where very loud moans could be heard. She had considered checking for Dana but given both voices were male she had decided against it.
She sighs, rubbing her arm where the latest patch of skin had appeared. It had been caused by a rather misguided attempt at rock climbing, her brother trying to get her to be more active with him. She had slipped and torn a gash in her left forearm, which was now covered in the skin she had come to fondly call her scales. Let it be said that she was never taking her brother up on any outside activities in the near future.
She shakes herself from her thoughts and focuses on finding a somewhat quiet room. Pulling out her phone, she dials Dana's number. She's surprised when Dana picks up, though less surprised when the very drunk greeting of her roommate fills her ear.
"Hey Dana, where are you? I need to get back to the house and you need to be with me." She takes a second to check the time, groaning when 2:43 shines up at her.
"Celene, I meant to tell you! My sister picked me up, she was so so nice!" The last words are quiet, as though she had pulled away from the phone to speak to someone with her. "She's taking me back now!"
"Really? Can I talk to her?" Worry spikes through her. She knows Dana's sister goes to their school, but Dana hadn't mentioned her coming at all tonight. Thankfully the next voice is that of Catherine, clearly exasperated with her drunk sibling.
"Hi Celene, I guess our darling Dana forgot that you had come with her specifically to get her back home and didn't remember until after she called me to pick her up. I'm sorry on her behalf, and I'm sure she'll repeat the sentiment when she's slightly more sober." The last bit is said loudly, clearly being directed at the drunk Dana who she could hear giggling in the background.
"No worries at all, I just wanted to make sure she was going to get home ok. Depending on how much help she needs when you get home I'll probably see you there. Good luck with her!"
Catherine laughs and thanks her before they hang up. She sighs again, steeling herself for the walk back through the crowds that filled the halls. Eventually she makes it outside, thankful to breath fresh air that isn't tinged with the smell of beer. She makes her way to the car, easy to spot in the light of the full moon and the flickering streetlights. Slipping into the drivers seat, she relaxes in the welcoming quiet, the last echos of the party finally fading away, though her ears are still faintly ringing. She takes a moment to simply revel in the calm, before starting the car and pulling out.
The house of the party wasn't very far from her place, the only major landmark being the bridge that she had to cross to get there. It wasn't much of a bridge, simply allowing for cars to cross over the rather pitiful river that flowed maybe 15 ft below. It was lined with rocky shores, where teens would often go to do their rebellious deeds, and it had been a place she had done her best to avoid. Now though the shores were empty, with only the water breaking the stillness of the scene.
The drive is dull, one she had taken countless times, and so her mind wanders. She has a paper due the next week, and she has barely figured out what she will write about. Her thoughts are filled with ideas, and she doesn't notice the approaching headlights until it's too late. The car was in the wrong lane, and before she could react her world of calm was replaced with the crunch of metal and the feeling of her face smashing into the airbag as it deploys.
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"W-what am I?" Sam cried with fear and confusion.
Just a few minutes ago, in the garage, Sam had cut off an entire arm with the immovable saw used to make sculptures or, you know, cut wood. With a gory squealish, a scream of epic proportions, and blood spraying the entire back wall of the garage, Sam had fainted from shock. But that meant waking up was inevitably.
And wake up Sam did, staring at the stump that was growing back green. Every moment was another of excrutiating pain and irritation. Under all the pain was a great itch that tore at the mind. But, all that was in the background as Sam watched the very arm he had used five minutes ago grow back inch by terrible inch.
Hundreds of possibilities ran through Sam's head. Of being an alien from a far off galaxy, a fantastical creature from a far gone age, a lovecraftian horror turning into a monster. But, above it all, the one thing that somehow made sense in Sam's weird way of thinking came to mind. And it stuck, shaking him to his core.
"I-I cant be an offspring of the big green giant!!!" Sam screamed in denial.
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[WP] All your life, every time you were cut or your skin was broken, a tough, strangely-textured skin grew over the wound. Doctors labeled it as an unknown skin disorder. It was when that accident took your arm and something else started growing back that you realized you were becoming something.
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My entire life I've felt like a freak. It started early, my first scars coming before I remember. The bumps and scrapes of my childhood never fading away like the other children. Instead weird ketoid growths covered my arms and legs.
By the time I was in middle school I wore pants and long sleeves shirts. You can imagine how well that worked out for me in the heat of socal. Even with my scars covered up, my strange choice of clothes was enough for the other children to tease me.
I soon grew impervious to their insults. The emotional cuts and bruises of their taunts scarring over like the physical. I began to see my disfiguration as my armor against a harsh world.
Shortly after graduating from high school I was in a terrible car accident. When I woke up in the hospital I was surrounded by whispering nurses.
They all grew silent when a stern looking doctor interested my view. "Benjamin, you're awake. Good."
She paused as she picked up my chart, "Can you feel your toes, Benjamin?" I nodded, and tried to wiggle them. They felt sluggish and heavy, but they were still there.
"Very good Benjamin. And now your fingers?" Her grey eyes pierced me as she watched intently. I made a fist with my right hand but something felt wrong with my left. I tried again but gasped as a shooting pain shot through my body.
"I.. I can't. What's wrong with my hand, doctor?" I tried again but the pain grew, as if my shoulder was about to burst open.
"You were in a very bad accident and are lucky to be alive. I need you to listen carefully now. Something happened to your arm, but we're going to help you get through this."
"Wha-" I tried to move my left arm again and turned my head to look. The pain exploded and ripped through me. I screamed, and as I did I saw the bandage-swathed stump of my left arm tear open.
A giant rock-covered limb shot out of the bandages, shredding them and narrowly missing a nurse. I screamed again as the weight of my new limb pulled me from the bed.
It felt like a fire was burning across my entire body, with waves of growing intensity coming from my new limb. My screams turned to roars as more rocks tore bloody from my skin. My right arm was engulfed and the bed shattered.
Before long I was a mess of blood and rocks. By then the pain had subsided to a full throb. I looked around at everyone. They had backed away from me and the shattered ruin of my bed.
I slowly pulled myself to my feet, I towered over everyone in my new body. "Doctor, what's happening to me?" Even my voice had changed, it was deeper and gravelly.
"Uhm, Mr. Grimm... I don't know but whatever this is, it's fantastic."
Thanks for reading. Any advice or criticism is appreciated! Sorry for any formatting, writing on my phone.
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"W-what am I?" Sam cried with fear and confusion.
Just a few minutes ago, in the garage, Sam had cut off an entire arm with the immovable saw used to make sculptures or, you know, cut wood. With a gory squealish, a scream of epic proportions, and blood spraying the entire back wall of the garage, Sam had fainted from shock. But that meant waking up was inevitably.
And wake up Sam did, staring at the stump that was growing back green. Every moment was another of excrutiating pain and irritation. Under all the pain was a great itch that tore at the mind. But, all that was in the background as Sam watched the very arm he had used five minutes ago grow back inch by terrible inch.
Hundreds of possibilities ran through Sam's head. Of being an alien from a far off galaxy, a fantastical creature from a far gone age, a lovecraftian horror turning into a monster. But, above it all, the one thing that somehow made sense in Sam's weird way of thinking came to mind. And it stuck, shaking him to his core.
"I-I cant be an offspring of the big green giant!!!" Sam screamed in denial.
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I am the supreme idiot for saying "allowed" instead of "aloud." Like, what kind of person am I who makes that mistake?
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[WP] You're a linguist on an archaeological dig and you're asked to read something carved into a stone pedestal. It says, "This stone is part of a binding spell. Do not read this text, allowed or in your head, as doing so will unseal the binding and release a terrible evil." Wait, crap.
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The darkness in the cave came closer and began to touch me, so I slapped it. I don't know who was more surprised - me, because I actually could feel myself slapping it; or the darkness because I actually had the nerve to slap it.
Either way, it got angry, balled itself up into a fist and knocked me out.
I dont know how long I was unconscious four, or what the darkness had done to my body while I was out, but it only seemed like seconds before I felt hands slapping me and my coworkers - Tim, Eddie, and Sarah - saying:
"Is he dead?" Eddie.
"I don't know. Maybe you should teabag him." Uhm, screw you too, Tim.
"*OR* you can just check his freaking pulse." God Bless Sarah.
Sarah touched my neck and I moaned, "Lower."
Eddie and Tim laughed. Sarah sucked her teeth and I could *hear* her roll her eyes.
Speaking of eyes, I opened mine and looked around at the three people that understood what it was like to be ridiculed by family, friends, and most of the people you met in society because:
"An..arch-e-ologist? Like, you play in sand and stuff?"
Oh, is that a problem, Karen? Because while you were worrying about what *I* do, your son (who's playing in the sandbox, by the way) just picked something up and *ate* it. Good luck tonight sifting through his poop.
Anyway.
Yeah, these three were my three amigos, my hombres, my musketeers, my kit-kats, my brothers from another mother (and sister) from another mister. If I was going to have a foursome with any three people in the world, it would be these three.
So when they backed away and looked at me funny, I took notice. "What?"
Sarah looked down and played with her fingers.
Tim looked away and scratched the back of his head.
Eddie shook his head and frowned. "There's something different about you..."
"Different how? Sexy different?"
Eddie shook his head. "I don't know. I just feel like...this *evilness* around you..."
Note: Wrote on the run.
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The words drifted in my mind, like a leaf caught and tumbling amidst a cool summer breeze. My vision blurred, then snapped back into focus. The ringing in my ears abruptly halted.
Closed.
I focused on the slow accumulation of musty air in my lungs, but noticed that the etched limestone letters engrained themselves into my vision.
Opened.
They vanished, like the fading wisps of a burning tobacco pipe into the crisp night air.
Blink. Blink.
Closed.
Back again, so clear I could almost feel them on the inside of my eyelids.
Opened, and... nothing.
I saw Doctor Sadler standing in front of me as clear as day, a glisten of sweat catching a ray of torchlight on her left temple.
"Well... What does it say? Doctor Curry?"
A flurry of questions flooded my mind. Rereading it? Reciting to others? Rewriting it? Is it possible to share this? Is it advisable? Something deep within me told me no.
"It was a mistake to come here," I replied.
I turned and began to work my way back to the cave entrance. Maybe it was nothing, but I swear I could see better now than when we entered. I effortlessly hurdled boulders that tripped me up on our way in, and that was with a torch in my right hand.
"Doctor Curry! Where... are... you going?"
Her voice grew fainter by the moment. Perhaps she had difficulty speaking between gulps of heavy air, perhaps I was fleeing that vile pedestal faster than she was, or perhaps I was fading myself.
Closed.
The letters flashing, in no particular order. First, the third from the left, then a triple-flicker from the penultimate letter, followed by a progression of the fifth to the ninth in rapid succession.
Opened.
The cave entrance grew at an astonishing rate, and before I knew it, I was outside. The sun pummeled my shoulders. Even through my cloak, it felt twice as hot, and bright, as when we entered this morning. The pack mules were still fastened to the stakes in the ground.
I stumbled over to my pack, unhingeing my water sachet. My thumb trembled as it struggled to pop the top.
Closed.
The words were still there, no longer flashing. As I tilted my head back, the they faded into the orange glow of sunlight. It was growing brighter and brighter, as clear as if I were staring at the sun with them open. The first drop of water touched my lips as I jolted my head down. It took a moment for the pain to subside. Was there something in my eyes?
Blink. Blink.
Everything seemed a haze of white. I squinted to try and clear my vision, but the thousands of grains of sand on the ground chose that moment to become tiny little mirrors, reflecting inordinate amounts of sun back in my eyes.
Closed.
My friends were back, but faded. The top was opaque and the bottom was clear.
"What happened in there, Doctor Curry?" she asked. "Why are we back out here when there is such a trove of unidentified information back in there?"
Opened.
"Doctor Sadler," I said between breaths, "I really think... you should go. It... was a mis...take to come here."
That was odd, I wasn't breathing heavy on our way out... Shade. I needed shade.
She caught my arm as I fell to my knees. She knew what I wanted, and put my arm over her shoulders and supported me. Back in the mouth of the cave, I could almost see the air masses coming together, crashing and swirling like tides of the ocean. Am I *seeing* air now?
"I'll go get the med kit. You stay right here," she pronounced.
The dank air enveloped me. Calm tingles washed down my neck. It felt like I was back home on the couch, curled up in my favorite fleece blanket. I felt... secure.
Watching her gallop towards me with the med kit bouncing off her hip, a hunger stirred deep within me, demanding to be satiated. The ringing was back, and I felt my heart rate jump. The collision of sensations was strange, it was powerful, and it was... exhilarating.
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[WP] An invisible man is just trying to live a normal life and is getting really tired of "clever" people suggesting he try to rob banks or sneak into locker rooms.
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The crisp, clean winter air fills my lungs. A fire crackles soothingly close by, spitting light gray wood smoke towards the starless night skies. A few people are warming their cold hands near the embers. Some throw curious glances at me, the stranger quietly sitting away in one corner, away from the warmth of the flames. At times like these, I find myself wishing that I did come here unseen. But there is a surreal emptiness in walking by a group of strangers and being unconsciously treated like you do not exist. Believe it or not, a stranger's gaze or even a reluctant smile are reminders that we are still here; we are still alive. For too long I had hidden myself away from the naked eye and felt loneliness drain the life out of me. No more, I told myself. I had been invisible for so long, I'd begun to question if I exist at all.
Back at home, naivety had cost me my normalcy. Being an impulsive, egoistic teenager, I had foolishly shown off my powers to the whole town during an illusionist's show. My life changed forever.
"Could you slip in past that fast food place and jam your pockets with free food?"
"Dude, how have you not sneaked into the women's changing room at the pool? You've got to be serious!"
"You do realize you'd be the world's finest assassin right? No one would ever know your real identity and you could earn billions!"
That was my life. The town's circus monkey; a novelty act that only lived to entertain. Exasperated with being surrounded by shallow-minded idiots, I decided to vanish from their lives permanently. So I turned invisible and moved here. No one knows me or my powers here. I do not intend to change that.
A green-eyed boy of ten or so watches me from near the fire. He is looking curiously at me, as if perturbed by something I could not see. My heart skips a beat as he turns away from the fire and begins to walk towards me.
"Mister, are you okay?" he says, sitting next to me on a cold bench.
"Yeah kid, kind of you to care. Why did you ask?"
I see his green eyes dimly shine in the dark. "I don't know. I saw you sitting all alone, by yourself. I don't like seeing people alone. I don't... like being alone."
"Where is your family?"
"Mama passed away when she gave birth to me. Papa brought me up all night all by himself. Mister, you would have loved Papa. He could do everything! He could teach you to hop on one leg, or read you a bedtime story, or make you a sandwich just the way you liked it without even asking you." I hear his voice grow heavy, as if lugging the burdens of someone well beyond his years. "I miss Papa. He promised he would always be around..." With that he breaks into muffled sobs. I stare helplessly, feeling my heart drop to the pit of my stomach.
"Kid, do you want to know a secret?"
His beautiful eyes light up with the soft glow of hope. "Yes, Mister."
"Those who die never really leave us. Your Papa is still here, I can show you. It doesn't work everytime, but I can try. However, if it works, do you promise to take care of yourself and do all you can to grow up to be as wonderful as him?"
I see him stumble in the dark for words. "Mister, if you can show me for a second that Papa is still here, I will have everything I pray for every single night. I promise to keep my word."
"Alright then. I want you to go over there and sit by the fire. I want you to close your eyes, and remember the most wonderful memory you have of him, okay? Promise to him what you promised to me. If he hears you, he will send you a sign."
The kid nods with uncertainty and runs across the slippery dewy grass till he reaches a chair next to the fire. I see him close his eyes; his lips begin to move as if muttering a desperate, silent prayer. A few seconds later, I see tears gushing out of his eyes, as if a dam deep inside him was overflowing. He does not open his eyes. Even from fifty feet away, I feel like his prayers could move a God to tears.
I rise from the bench and turn myself invisible. I shed a tear too, as I slow walk towards the fire. Because sometimes, all we need is a sign, even if an invisible one, to keep us alive.
r/whiteshadowthebook
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you know i dont appreciate it much, man. im jist trying to make a normal living.
but you can do this che, you can just break into banks and get rich quick. cmon, weve been dating for how long now- 6 months? ive known you all my life. ever since the spill, you becoming all translucent amd barely visible, ive stood by you che. but youve to do this. youve to this for us. youve to do this for our son, opal (bc hes slightly opaque)
you dont get it martha, i want to stay clean. its a slippery slope, robbing banks and lockers. ykno. it starts simple, a necklace here and there, but soon it just degenerates into full blown criminality. and i just dont want that to be the role moder for our son. its difficult nuff that i had to raise him the first couple of months by myself. do you have any idea how diffi it is to get a child used to an invisible father? do you? i dont wanna lose him over some stupid rent money
well what do you suppose we do?
we can put on a circus act. its good honest earning
ya right
i mean it
well its gonna be you and your damn son. im outta here.
if you could only see how much sad that makes me to hear.
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[WP] An invisible man is just trying to live a normal life and is getting really tired of "clever" people suggesting he try to rob banks or sneak into locker rooms.
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Learning to be normal was a difficult process for me. When I was born, my parents were despondent by my peculiar affliction. Not knowing where your child was, what face he was making, all of the medical risks involved... You *do* realize how hard it is to get a check-up when an ultrasound, or an extra touchy doctor are your only tools? It's a miracle I survived all these years... but I digress. My parents found it hard to connect with me for a good portion of my early childhood, but they worked around this unheard of situation through sheer goodwill and effort. I wouldn't trade them for anyone, and it's due to them that I grew up as normal as I had; but normal I was not.
The peculiar winding path of a child growing up: dependency, selfishness, ego development, puberty, rebellion—all the stressors of good parents—these periods of my life found themselves heavily exacerbated by my unique condition. I did it all to my poor parents. I snuck out of (deserved) groundings, hid from them when I didn't get what I wanted, pulled an array of pranks that only a uniquely endowed youth such as myself could concoct, but it all didn't stop there. As I grew older, my motivations changed from childish selfishness... to adolescent selfishness. Replace most of the harmless things I did as a child with property damage, and you have a good idea of what my early teens looked like. The worst of it came when I began to "mature" into adulthood. I grew more selfish yet still, and compelled by my almost divine rights and powers (I was an idiot, forgive me), I caused real harm to innocent people. I felt it was my right to enact my own justice because I was given the power to do so, but was shortsighted in my attempts to do so. Aside from my countless minor thefts, and larger robberies, one particularly egregious case led me to serious trouble. At the height of my delusion, I saw a "damsel in distress" being heckled by a man in an alley. He was shouting at her, "—hand it over, I know you have it there in your purse, it's no use lying!" and she'd shouted "NO! SOMEONE! HELP!" In retrospect, this scenario is likely a rarity, and this particular case was easily misunderstood, but at the time I took this conversation at face value. I took a broken board from the nearby dumpster and landed a solid hit on that poor man's head. I later learned that my "heroism" led to the death of a family... 3 children with their parents. The man was actually an employee of the bar, and knew the woman in question personally. It turns out she was very drunk and wanted to ensure she not drive home. The employee knew she wouldn't take it personally after she'd sobered up; they were close. My shortsightedness enabled 5 counts of manslaughter to fall upon that woman's conscience, permanent brain damage to an innocent man, and 10 years of incarceration to yours truly. My only saving grace was that my mother was a practiced lawyer, and she'd managed to keep me from being pushed into government experiment under the guise of punitive reparation. I would either be dead, or wanting death if not for her. She knew I had good intentions at heart, but our relationship hasn't been as good as it ever was before. I couldn't ask for anything else though, I already exhausted my luck having the relationship stay as good as it had.
After 10 years in prison I had time to reflect. The ease of escape hadn't even occurred to me in any serious capacity, I accepted my foolishness and did my time. I was already on a lenient sentence, and didn't want to cause any more trouble for those involved with my wide-reaching consequences... I won't every do something so shortsighted again, because I have debts no fortune could repay.
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"Listen Chuck, you just need to look at this as a GOOD thing." The sound of Terrance's baritone voice rumbled in one ear and out the other.
I'd heard the GOOD thing speech a thousand times from a thousand people. It followed a predictable path: GOOD thing => Superpower => Do anything you want => Hell, you could even rob a bank!
Why was is that was where everyone went with it? No, "Hey, you could break into the labor camps and break out the slave children!" Or, "You know what? You could finally gather an accurate tally of endangered snow leopards!"
Never go be a superhero with the superpower. Always knock over the local Bank of America?
What the hell was wrong with people?
Terrance was leaning close now, his hand fumbling about for my shoulder and missing the mark badly. I liked to move about a bit to mess with people. The hand hung awkwardly in the air for a moment until he tried to casually set it down on the back of the chair he thought I was occupying.
Nice save T. Real nice.
"It's basically a superpower." He whispered, a glint in his eye.
B-I-N-G-O and Predictable was his Name-O. Wow. That was lame. Sounded better in my head. I guess it's still in my head so no one needs to know about it. Other than me. Maybe you. I don't think I'm supposed to know about you though, so let's just focus on the main thread shall we?
"I'd KILL to have a superpower." Terrance swung his arms wide, his voice booming now.
I pushed the chair out to his left, causing him to startle and glance at it with suspicion. I'd circled around while he was plotting to kill folks. "So you'd kill someone just to be invisible?"
I asked, though from his right now, causing his head to swivel back.
"For sure man, that's how big of a gift it is," he replied.
"What if the only way to keep my power is that I DO have to kill someone?" I whispered, now from his left.
The blood drained from his face, "Well, um, I was just sayin'--"
"I know what you were sayin'. You were sayin' you'd murder someone cold just to be a ghost." I pulled a hair from his head, causing him to hop out of his chair and scramble to the side, "Not very neighborly of you."
"I didn't mean nothin' by it, I um...I just uhhh...." His eyes were settling on the ajar door exiting the room. I gave it a little nudge, causing it to swing shut. It slammed with a small crack.
Poor Terrance was sweating now. Poor poor Terrance.
"What were you just saying Terrance?"
"That it's a gift. A superpower. You could do anything."
"I guess I COULD do anything." I stomped my feet, letting the thud ring out as I slowly stepped close, "anything at all."
"I meant more like you could...uh...rob a bank or something."
"But why stop there Terrance? There's so many more interesting things when you can do anything." I stomped closer still.
"Listen, I gotta be going. I forgot I had a..." He bolted toward the exit, only to be tripped by my extended leg. He fell to the ground, emitting as gasp as the air was forced from his lungs.
"There's something interesting about invisibility Terrance," I said, slowly circling around his prostrate form. "Do you know what it is?"
He continued to gasp on the ground.
"The power is really only useful if no one knows you have it," think about it Terrance, think about how the world would react if they knew. "You didn't know right up until the moment I found you stumbling out of that bar."
I knelt beside him, "You're right Terrance. I can do anything." My voice dropped lower now. "And I have."
**Platypus OUT.**
**Want MORE Peril?** r/PerilousPlatypus
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[WP] The day you die, Death comes and asks if you are ready to go. Jokingly, you say no. To your surprise, he leaves. Now every year he comes back to ask again
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It was 03:00 on a cold, wet night when my car skidded off the road, rolled 5 or 6 times, finally coming to a stop against a tree. My breathing became fast and shallow, I could feel the blood draining from me. I closed my eyes for one last time, gave my last long breath and my soul parted from my body. I stood there, looking at the wreck of a car and middle aged man, fluids mixing together in a puddle. Then, he appeared, a cloaked figure, but I didn't have any fear, he didn't make me feel scared, or want to run away, I felt calm, almost relaxed. We stood there for another few hours, silently watching the police and others work out what happened. Once the work had been done, my body recovered, the scene taped off and waiting for the morning to shed enough light to recover the car, he turned to me and said "so, are you ready to leave this relm, to go on to your eternal resting place?". I looked to him, searching for what to say, "do I have a choice, my bodys gone, what else can I do?" he sighed, obviously this wasn't the first time someone had asked that. "if you say no then I leave your soul to wander the earth, returning on the anniversary of your death, to ask again. Where do you think ghosts come from?". I stood there, silently weighing my options, "no, I'll stay" I said with a chuckle, "fine" he said, then vanished.
It took me a while to figure things out, like how to interact with things in the real world, turning lights on and off, moving stuff, how to focus my thoughts to move my soul over distances, because there's no buses for ghosts. After a couple of weeks I made it home. It was strange going through my front door, without opening it. I saw my wife on the floor, cuddling my daughter. It looked like she'd been there a while. They both looked cold. I looked around and saw the old blanket I'd use for doing 'dad' things, like when we cuddled up to watch a movie on a rainy Sunday, or build a tent in the living room, or wrap my daughter in when she wasn't feeling well, she always complained that it smelled of engine oil and my aftershave, no matter how many times we washed it. I concentrated, focusing my energy, I felt like I was trying to move a car, but finally I pushed it enough to fall on their shoulders, my wife disturbed from her sleep just enough to wrap them both up in it. Then I went upstairs, and spent another 30 minutes trying to turn the heating on, after that I felt exhausted, so I went back downstairs, took my normal spot on the sofa and went to sleep looking at my broken family.
I continued working on my ability to do things, I used them to help when I could. Turning lights off when my wife had forgotten because she was too tiered, moving what she was looking for to somewhere she would find it, I got quite good as the year went on, even to tuck my little girl into bed and turning her night light back on one night to try and let my wife sleep.
Over time, my family was healing, it was slow, but they were getting through it. My daughter had been noticing some of the things I'd do, and had even tried talking to me a few times, but no one listened to her when she said 'daddy helped'
Time went by and soon enough it was the anniversary of my death. He came to me again at 03:00, the time I had taken my last breath. He stood next to me as I watched my family sleep, "are you ready yet" he asked, I shook my head slowly, "no" I replied, "I've got too much to do yet". Death turned to me then, he lowered his hood, exposing his bare skull, "the longer you stay here, the harder it is to pass over when you decide to, after a few years it's nearly impossible, you'll be stuck between the worlds" he said, his tone a mix of pleading and warning. "I don't care" I said, staring where his eyes should be, "I let my girls down before, I can't do it again. If spending eternity trapped like this is the price to see them, to watch my daughter grow up and try to help, then I will gladly pay". "fine" he said, "see you next year" and once again, he vanished, leaving me to watch my family.
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It has been two years since my battle with cancer started. Before discovering I had cancer I worked everyday of my life to build my own business, and have a successor to keep it going. Now that I had it all, I am dying. The only way I could cope with the fact of having cancer was to work harder than ever. I wanted to work as hard as ever bu the more I worked the more the cancer kept eating and eating at me. My son, whom I taught everything he knows to run the business, is trying to steal it out of my hands now that I seem weak. I will not relinquish what is mine. I can see them waiting for and take my revenge me to die, so they can take everything I own, and everything I worked so hard for. I know I am getting worse, suddenly they are showing up everyday at hospital, so my end must be near.
​
Today, a stranger sat by my side, they said they were Death and I could choose to stay or to go. I chose to stay, and take my revenge.
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[WP] The day you die, Death comes and asks if you are ready to go. Jokingly, you say no. To your surprise, he leaves. Now every year he comes back to ask again
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I was surprised death left, and when I woke up, I was even more surprised. My family was crying, and once they found out I would be okay, they were so happy.
I eventually forgot about the entire thing, as much of that period is hard to remember. But 6 months later, death took my brother and sister. I was so confused and upset. Why did they give up so easily? What did they do to deserve death?
I fell into a depression, and my parents began to worry. I could barely stay in the house without breaking down. But somewhere deep inside of me knew that I shouldn’t of said no, that it was my fault, that if I were to die now it would all be okay.
I didn’t listen, but one day, I was greeted by police at the front door. The same day i was greeted by death. Exactly one year later. Iwas told my parents had died.
Time seemed to stop, as I pushed past the officers and ran out into the street. I could hear them yelling to stop, but I couldn’t care to listen. I had lost everyone I loved and held dear. I had no other family, as my grandparents died before I was born.
Everything faded to black and was greeted by, not death, but my brother.
“Hey sis.” A sadness to his voice,
“Jay? What are you- how are you-?”
I stopped myself, as I felt I already knew the answer.
“Are you... death?”
Jay only slightly smiled.
“In order to save someone’s life, I have to give up something. With you in such a bad state, my life was what it took. Bella understands, she wanted you to live too.”
“But... what now?” I asked while choking up. “Is it my time to go?”
Jay laughed and shook his head.
“No, it’s-“
“But Jay, what do I have to live for?”
Jay went silent for a few seconds.
“You can make the world a better place, you can save people from death if you wanted! Friends, pets, people... you can live for them.”
I shakily smiled.
“Thank you Jay. I’ll miss you.”
“Bye Lia, live life out to the greatest.”
And he disappeared, and I lived. I was adopted by one of the police officers as he was good friends with my mom. I became a doctor and saved lives just as he would of wanted me to.
But one day, after a patient had recovered from a deadly car crash, he seemed to remember something.
“Oh, Dr. Lia!”
“Yes?”
“When I was asleep, this guy talked to me and told me to say hello! So, hello from weird guy!”
The boy smiled, and I realized how much he was like Jay.
“He said my mom and dad wouldn’t want me to come with them yet, so I made sure I woke up.”
I was so close to crying.
“And what’s your name?”
“Oh yeah! My name is Jay!”
After that, I adopted him. I knew Jay would be in this world again one day. I hope he’s proud of me.
I could tell now he was just like Jay, and I don’t mind seeing my son, as the new death, every day or year.
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It has been two years since my battle with cancer started. Before discovering I had cancer I worked everyday of my life to build my own business, and have a successor to keep it going. Now that I had it all, I am dying. The only way I could cope with the fact of having cancer was to work harder than ever. I wanted to work as hard as ever bu the more I worked the more the cancer kept eating and eating at me. My son, whom I taught everything he knows to run the business, is trying to steal it out of my hands now that I seem weak. I will not relinquish what is mine. I can see them waiting for and take my revenge me to die, so they can take everything I own, and everything I worked so hard for. I know I am getting worse, suddenly they are showing up everyday at hospital, so my end must be near.
​
Today, a stranger sat by my side, they said they were Death and I could choose to stay or to go. I chose to stay, and take my revenge.
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[WP] The day you die, Death comes and asks if you are ready to go. Jokingly, you say no. To your surprise, he leaves. Now every year he comes back to ask again
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It was raining, hard, that October day, and the wind was rocking the boat in her slip. I forgot my lifejacket, and my parents were too busy getting the boat ready for the end of the season.
I wanted to go and play in the park near the marina, so I leapt the gap between boat and dock. Got there okay, but the wood was so slippery.
I fell. It was cold beyond cold. I could swim, but this was completely different.
A soft voice in my ear, my late great-grandmother’s, asked, “Are you ready to go?”
“No! I’m only six!” I yelled in childish frustration.
“Okay, dear.” I woke up coughing up lake water and colder than I had ever been in my life.
The next year, I climbed too high in the old spruce tree with my brother. There was a yell and a crack. It was all so fast.
“Are you ready to go?” It was the old lady from the sweet shop in the town where my family vacationed. She always used to give me the broken candies.
“No. I’m only seven,” I said, more calmly, having learned from last year.
“Okay, honey.”
I woke up on the needle-strewn forest floor, head aching, ears ringing with my brother’s screams.
When I was eight, it happened very suddenly. I was just walking in the woods, and heard the voice, a young man’s. I had heard it before on the news. Columbine.
“Ready to go, kiddo?”
“No. I’m still a kid. But what-?”
*BANG* I instinctively ducked. Then a blaze of orange in the trees, and a bullet in the pine just behind me. “Oh God. I thought you were a deer.”
The next year, it was all of us. The infamous gales of November seemed to have come up suddenly on that beautiful Indian-summer Lake Superior day. The boat was built for racing, for speed. An odd choice for a family craft, but my dad had gotten her cheap. The wind howled, waves tossed her around like a bath toy, and my mom was so scared she actually held me. She’s stopped doing that when I was three.
I saw a dim image of the ancient black dog my family had recently lost. She couldn’t speak but the message was clear.
“You all ready to go?”
“No!” I shouted into the wind. “We can make it!”
My dad told the story of our adventure for years to come. He always says it’s an adventure as long as you survive!
It was a perfect day on remote Isle Royale when I next heard the voice, unknown but smelling of wet canvas and something deep and metallic. My senses went on high alert, waiting for the threat.
“Ready to go?”
“No! I just hit double digits.”
“Then you’d better get out of the way!” I scrambled up the nearest tree, my foot nearly touching the back of an enormous moose- a cow, I thought hysterically, no antlers- as she crashed across the path.
It came on slowly the next year. My mom was running a student exchange in Germany and took me with. I loved it, at first, but developed such a severe foreign virus that I couldn’t even keep water down. As I lay miserably in my bed under the eaves, I saw a feverish image of a gaunt man in grey rags and a number on his arm.
“Are you ready to go, *schatz*?” he asked
I coughed, forced down bile, licked my sandpaper dry lips, and said what I always had. No. Well, *nein*. He had asked in German.
The next year, it was the cat. I had started down the steep basement stairs to feed his surviving sister, and slipped. In the few seconds of my fall, his calm brown eyes looked into mine, and asked, *Are you ready to go?* without words.
I shook my head, and woke up with a concussion on the bottom step.
Life was harder the next year. I was often bullied and iced out, alone everywhere. Nothing was fun any more. I didn’t know what to do. Still, I nearly screamed when I heard my own voice in my ear.
“Ready to go, you piece of shit?” she snarled.
“N-no,” I stammered. “I’m sure high school will be better.”
She asked me twice more, and I always said no, though it grew harder. I began harming myself just to get through the day.
Then when I was sixteen, I had the accident. I went too deep. I couldn’t seem to stop the bleeding. As I frantically pressed a towel to my leg, and grew weaker, she- I?- asked almost kindly.
“It’s so hard. Ready to go?”
“Ye-no” I changed my mind. When I was fourteen, I had finally made a friend. She was closer than my own brother. I couldn’t hurt her, and even though it was a long way yet, I could see hope when I went to college.
“Have it your way, then. Honestly, I admire your determination.” And she-I?- opened her mouth and began to scream and scream, until my friend burst into the bathroom.
Life grew better that next year. I began the process of facing my pain, and hoped that I wouldn’t hear death any longer now that I was better. I was wrong. The night of the seventh Harry Potter book release at midnight, I was walking home from the bookstore, trying to read by the moonlight and streetlights as I want.
“Are you ready to go, sweetheart? Let me give you another fiver.” It was my paternal grandfather. He always shook my hand and gave me some money whenever I said goodbye after a visit. He held out his hand.
“No, sorry, Grandpa. Things are finally looking up for me. I miss you though.”
“All right, then.”
A truck blared past me on the nearly empty road, so close it tore my light jacket off. Shaking, I put the book under my arm. No more reading and walking for me.
(I could go up to my current age, 28, let me know if you want more!)
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It has been two years since my battle with cancer started. Before discovering I had cancer I worked everyday of my life to build my own business, and have a successor to keep it going. Now that I had it all, I am dying. The only way I could cope with the fact of having cancer was to work harder than ever. I wanted to work as hard as ever bu the more I worked the more the cancer kept eating and eating at me. My son, whom I taught everything he knows to run the business, is trying to steal it out of my hands now that I seem weak. I will not relinquish what is mine. I can see them waiting for and take my revenge me to die, so they can take everything I own, and everything I worked so hard for. I know I am getting worse, suddenly they are showing up everyday at hospital, so my end must be near.
​
Today, a stranger sat by my side, they said they were Death and I could choose to stay or to go. I chose to stay, and take my revenge.
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[WP] The day you die, Death comes and asks if you are ready to go. Jokingly, you say no. To your surprise, he leaves. Now every year he comes back to ask again
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I was chilling in my house in my boxers. I was sitting in my easy chair, preparing to watch a marathon of Hammer Horror films. Suddenly a cloud of mist engulfed the room. All the lights dimmed and I felt cold. I was terrified and wondered if this was the end. Then a hooded figure appeared.
“OOOOOOOOHH.” said the figure, waving it’s arms. I couldn’t help it. I burst out laughing. The figure raised its scythe to me.
“Don’t laugh.” said the figure. “I am Death. Your time has come.”
“Nice Halloween costume,” I said.
“It’s not a Halloween costume!” said Death, pulling down his hood to reveal a skeletal face.
“Nice plastic skull mask.” I said.
“It’s not a costume!” Death raised his scythe again and slashed my arm with it.
“Ow! What the fuck!” I yelled. “They let you walk around with that thing?”
“I don’t have time for this.” said Death. “Your time has come. Are you ready to go?”
“Are you really asking me?” I said.
“Of course, there is always a choice.”
“Well then, I’ll have to say no.”
“Ok then.”
“That’s it?”
“That’s it. I’ll return at a later date.”
“Come back anytime.” I said, sinking back into my chair, ready to watch some movies. “Honey, I cut myself!” I yelled to my wife.
​
A year later, I was in the bath. I always hated baths until I got older and enjoyed the affect of a warm bath on my aging body. I was flicking my doodle back and forth, when I felt a sudden chill. The room got dark and misty again.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake!” I yelled. Death had appeared again in front of me.
“Would it kill you to knock?” I asked,
“Hello again.” said Death. “How has this last year of life treated you?”
“Oh, can’t complain. I got laid off and my wife has medical bills.”
“That’s life.” said Death in a bored voice. “It gives you things and takes them away.”
“Well, I’d love to chat longer, but as you can see, this is an inopportune time for me.” I said.
“This will be quick.” said Death. “I have come to ask you again if you are ready to depart this world.”
“No.” I said. “Not quite ready yet.”
“Very well,” said Death. “Have a nice day.”
Death faded into the darkness, and the mist dissipated from the room. Someone was knocking on the bathroom door. It was my wife.
“Are you talking to someone in there?”
​
Another year passed. I was sitting on a chair on my back porch, a beer in my hand. Suddenly the familiar mist appeared again. I groaned in annoyance. Death was there, standing on my back porch.
“Hello again.” said Death.
“Death,” I said, nodding my head but not looking at him.
We stood for a while admiring the view of my backyard.
“Another year gone by.” said Death.
“The world keeps turning even when mine doesn’t.” I said.
“Yes, I came to visit your wife a few months ago.” said Death. “She left with me right away, unlike you. Wouldn’t you like to be with her?”
“Nope, not ready to die.” I said curtly.
“What is there for you here without your wife?” asked Death. “You don’t seem to be leading a very fulfilling life anymore.”
“I’m just… I’m afraid of what happens next.”
“It’s very painless, I assure you.”
“You said I always had a choice.”
“You do.”
“Then I’m not ready yet.” I said firmly.
“Very well. Until our next meeting.” Death had his usual exit, and I was left alone with my thoughts.
​
Twenty years went by. Death came to visit me for the first 8, as usual, but eventually even he gave up trying to convince me. I kept to a usual routine each day, but life had taken its toll. My eyesight was nearly gone and my hands were withered and arthritic. I was sitting on the porch drinking a beer when Death showed again.
“Hello old friend.”
“Death,” I said. “It’s been a while. Thought’d you given up on me.”
“I never give up on anyone.”
“How have you been these last few years?” I asked.
“You know, no one has ever asked about me.” said Death.
“It’s your getup.” I said. “You could wear more welcoming attire.”
“People are scared of death,” he said. “I don’t know why. No one is scared of being born.”
“No one remembers their birth,” I said.
“It is so confusing, being born. You’re wet and cold, and not yet ready for this big world.”
“Death is scarier,” I said.
“You know, most people your age are ready to accept death.”
“I don’t know why.”
“What are you living for?” said Death. “Your wife wouldn’t have wanted you to live your last years like this. If you’re not ready to die, but you don’t want to live, what do you want?”
“You’re right,” I said, contemplating. We sat in more silence until Death was ready to leave again.
“I’ve got a lot more appointments today. If you’re not ready to come, I will just say, until our next meeting.”
Death left again. That night, I called up some of my old buddies I hadn’t talked to in years. Most of them had passed on by this point, but I made plans to meet with two surviving friends.
​
Three more years passed. I was sitting in an easy chair in a neighbors house. Death came again for the last time.
“Hello Death.” I said, opening my eyes.
“Thought I’d try again. I heard from Alan before he died.”
“Alan was a good friend and he had an amazing family.” I said.
“He seemed glad you chose to reconnect with him again.”
“It felt good to be back in the world for a while.” I said. “I’ve been talking to some high schoolers. Listening to their stories and telling them all about my past. It’s been great reliving it all. I had a fulfilling life.”
“That’s nice to hear.” said Death. “So are you finally ready?”
“Yes, I do believe it’s time.” I said, slowing rising from my chair and offering a handshake to Death. “And I really have to thank you for all your help.”
I looked back at the chair and saw my body still sitting there, limp. “Would you look at that.” I said. I turned and walked with Death and vanished into the mist.
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It has been two years since my battle with cancer started. Before discovering I had cancer I worked everyday of my life to build my own business, and have a successor to keep it going. Now that I had it all, I am dying. The only way I could cope with the fact of having cancer was to work harder than ever. I wanted to work as hard as ever bu the more I worked the more the cancer kept eating and eating at me. My son, whom I taught everything he knows to run the business, is trying to steal it out of my hands now that I seem weak. I will not relinquish what is mine. I can see them waiting for and take my revenge me to die, so they can take everything I own, and everything I worked so hard for. I know I am getting worse, suddenly they are showing up everyday at hospital, so my end must be near.
​
Today, a stranger sat by my side, they said they were Death and I could choose to stay or to go. I chose to stay, and take my revenge.
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[WP] The day you die, Death comes and asks if you are ready to go. Jokingly, you say no. To your surprise, he leaves. Now every year he comes back to ask again
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It was all because of pizza.
I had been focused all day on having dinner at the gourmet pizza place my friends and I were currently obsessed with. Our first meal there had been a revelation for me. My god, pizza can taste like this? We were there every Thursday night since it opened, convinced that this could never last.
Driving there, late from work, I'd been on the phone to my friend Nigel debating whether to order the mushrooms and anchovies. *"That does look amazing but those garlic prawns! It's redefined eating for me!"*
My last words.
I obviously wasn't paying attention to the road and the next thing I know I'm upside down and there's liquid everywhere. Some of it was petrol, some of it was blood.
It was all bad.
So I'm hanging there and someone is leaning in the upside down window, offering me a hand. The hand was see-through and seemed made of light but it was dark. It didn't make sense. And then a voice said *"It is your time."*
I was strangely serene. I was aware of bits of me being broken but it didn't matter. I was peaceful - more peaceful than I had ever felt before. I was happy to go with my new friend.
But then a vision of garlic prawns on a thin-crust base appeared and I groaned *"No!"*
*"No?"* the voice was serene but puzzled. *"Really?"*
*"Just one more pizza!"* I whispered.
*"So be it."*
And then I was in hospital and the doctor was telling someone that it was a miracle I was alive.
I dismissed the whole thing as a dream. The next year I was on a rock climbing holiday in Morocco and found myself trying to impress a cute Norwegian backpacker. I reached out and discovered I had overestimated my ability AND that my rope wasn't as secure as it should have been.
Next thing I know I'm lying on the ground and there's a tall dark figure made of light reaching out a hand for me.
*"It is time."*
There was that feeling of inevitability but I seemed to remember this happening before. Then I remembered the pizza incident and said *"Haven't we done this before?"*
*"Yes. It really is time now though. Come"*
*"What if i say no?"*
There was a pause. The dark figure was silent for a moment and then the voice spoke again: *"I can't take you if you say no. But you really should consider the..."*
I blurted out *"No!"* like a child who discovers a new word and wants to play with it. Cheating death is this easy? I could still have a chance with that Norwegian backpacker!
The dark figure had a beseeching quality in that ethereal voice. *"Can I just explain..."*
But then the ambulance was there and I woke up in hospital and it was another miracle. The Norwegian backpacker was suitably impressed and I had discovered the cheat code for life itself!
I quit my job, bought a funky camera and started posting extreme climbing and base-jumping videos. I became a viral sensation, the man who knew no fear! And then one day I jumped off a ledge at the same time as a mountain goat and **BAM!** There I was again, all messed up and that dark figure was there, telling me this time it really was time.
I was cocky by now. *"You sure about that?"*
That etheral voice was a bit louder now: *"YES! You don't know..."*
*"No! I don't want to go. I want to do Extreme pogo-stick Mountaineering! I haven't lived yet!"*
*"Please, will you just..."*
*"NO!"*
And then I was at the bottom of a mountain, my body all messed up. But I was looking at my body. And I looked dead. Really dead. My extreme buddies were gathered around me and one of them was saying *"he would have wanted to go out like this."*
*"Bullshit I would!"* I tried to shout, but I had no lungs. I was made of light. *"What's going on?"*
*"I tried to tell you."* I turned around and there was the dark figure.
*"Tried to tell me what?"*
*"You can't just keep saying 'no' and have a body to go back to."* The figure gestured to me and then began moving away. I followed, trying to stay calm.
*"So... am I dead then?"*
*"No. You had three chances to die. But you said no to all of them, so you're a spirit now."* There was an edge of annoyance in the voice: *"A disembodied spirit trapped in the form realm."*
*"OK."* I said, trying to focus on what I was being told. I was still upset over all the Extreme pogo-stick Mountaineering adventures I would never experience. C'mon, I told myself, focus! *"So what do I do now?"*
*"Well, you can hang around the living. Most who do that go mad with jealousy very quickly. Occasionally you'll be able to scare someone by impersonating a ghost but that gets old real quick. Eventually you will do what has to be done to leave here and go to the formless realm, the place you are bound for. Otherwise you will be here for eternity, watching the sun die and the stars fade and the planet itself crumble and..."*
*"OK! I hear you! So, what do I have to do?"*
A long arm stretched and a finger made of light that was dark pointed. I peered in that direction and saw a mountain. A huge mountain. *"Wow, I'd like to pogo-stick down that!"*
*"It doesn't exist in the form realm,"* said the voice, annoyed. Then it carried on calmly: *"It is the only gateway point out of here into the formless realm. If you climb to the top and wait, you will be met by the One who can transport you across the veil into that which words cannot..."*
*"Gotcha!"* I was relieved. I'd been afraid of some huge ordeal, but climb a mountain? *"Not a problem. Just get to the top and wait yeah?"*
*"Yes. The One comes when the veil is thin and..."*
*"I hear you good buddy! I can climb a mountain, no sweat."* I laughed at my own comment. *"Ha! Of course there's no sweat, I don't have a body!"* My dark-light companion said nothing, just kept moving, closer to the Mountain.
It was **huge**. Bigger than Everest. Bigger than the Himalyas. As we walked I saw other dark figures escorting spirits. I pointed to them and asked my dark figure *"Did they say 'no' too?"*
*"Yes,"* and there was a disdainful edge to the voice. *"You are not the first to say 'no' three times to Death."*
I nodded. It figured a few others would be as clever as I was. I told myself to start reframing this as an adventure. My last mountain climb and then onto the great beyond! Woo-hoo! And I'd have some climbing companions too. I waved at another spirit and they tentatively waved back. We'd have plenty of time to connect and bond; it would be a long climb up.
*"I wish I had a ghost video camera, that thing is huge! This is going to be epic!"* The mountain grew bigger with every step. And it grew stranger too. Quite weird in fact. *"Is the mountain... moving?"* I asked. The surface seemed to be writhing.
*"No."*
I looked for a good long while and then my gaze travelled down to the base of the mountain. There I suddenly realised what the movement was.
The mountain and the land all around it were covered in spirits. Like ants on a tree stump they were climbing all over the mountain, completely covering it in a carpet of limbs and bodies. Spirits climbing up every surface, some falling off, some fighting each other, all trying to get to the top. At the very top I could just see a single figure reach the apex and reach out for something above them. And then suddenly they were falling, falling, falling for what seemed a very long time.
My companion was right. I wasn't the first to say 'no' to Death.
*"Ah,"* I said, trying to take it all in, *"is there another mountain?"*
*"No."* Around me more spirits were arriving, and looking for a long time. And then slowly walking into the writhing mass of spirits that had fallen and were getting up to start climbing the mountain again.
The dark figure had a different tone of voice now. Slightly amused. *"We call this the Mountain of Regret. I believe you humans call it hell."* And then he was gone. Leaving me alone, staring at a mountain as big as a planet, covered in spirits all fighting to get to the top.
And all because of Pizza.
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It has been two years since my battle with cancer started. Before discovering I had cancer I worked everyday of my life to build my own business, and have a successor to keep it going. Now that I had it all, I am dying. The only way I could cope with the fact of having cancer was to work harder than ever. I wanted to work as hard as ever bu the more I worked the more the cancer kept eating and eating at me. My son, whom I taught everything he knows to run the business, is trying to steal it out of my hands now that I seem weak. I will not relinquish what is mine. I can see them waiting for and take my revenge me to die, so they can take everything I own, and everything I worked so hard for. I know I am getting worse, suddenly they are showing up everyday at hospital, so my end must be near.
​
Today, a stranger sat by my side, they said they were Death and I could choose to stay or to go. I chose to stay, and take my revenge.
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[WP] The day you die, Death comes and asks if you are ready to go. Jokingly, you say no. To your surprise, he leaves. Now every year he comes back to ask again
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"Am I going to see her when I go with you?"
"Alexander, every year we go through this - once I hand them off, I don't know what happens. No one's ever come back once I've taken them so I have no idea."
Its an odd conversation to be having on a subway train at 3 AM, but every year they show up in some different costume - the year it was the little girl was particularly disconcerting. Death seems to favor appearances that allow them to walk among the people without notice. This year they seem to have decided on the woman on her way from one job to another - green polo shirt, black dress pants, comfortable shoes. Though you'd guess she'd be speaking with a thick Hindi accent, the voice that comes out of her slight frame rolls like distant thunder, deep and sonorous, speaking with an accent you've never heard from any other living person.
The man sitting near the woman looks out the window, not at the woman. His long hair graying and pulled back into a ponytail. He carries an attache bag, looking like a high school teacher or overburdened social workers.
"Then I'm sorry that you wasted your time coming out here tonight. I'm not ready and I'm not going to be ready until I know I'll see her again." the man called Alexander said, his voice steady
"Its not a waste of time." the woman who was Death replied, her eyes not moving from the man. They sat for a minute in silence, the only sound the wheels of the train on the tracks clattering away. "Can I ask you a question?" the deep voice Death asks, a note of trepidation in their deep tones.
Alexander seems to tense before biting off a response, icy and short "This is your meeting, isn't it? October 6th, same as every year."
Death either didn't notice the effort expended by the gray haired man or didn't care. "If you loved her so much, why are you still here? Every year we meet and every year you say you won't go until you know you can see her. But you know that won't happen while you're alive. She went through to the other side, she's...wherever she's supposed to be." and the woman looked with what could be concern at the man "You'd be surprised how close of tabs I keep on you Alexander. No children, no siblings, couple of cats, same route to and from same dead end job every day. What do you stay here for?"
The only sound is the clattering of the train down the tracks. The man looks out the window, not saying anything. This silence stretches out as the train slows down, pulling into the next station "I suppose I'll see you next year." He says sadly to an empty car before reaching into his bag and pulling out a book. Pressed between two of the pages is a photo; the man, with darker hair and less of a paunch, a woman with chestnut hair, thick black framed glasses and smiling eyes each hold a kitten. The man's is ginger and looks perturbed, the woman's is black and white and it looks like it's trying to bat at a lock of her hair that's fallen over her face.
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It has been two years since my battle with cancer started. Before discovering I had cancer I worked everyday of my life to build my own business, and have a successor to keep it going. Now that I had it all, I am dying. The only way I could cope with the fact of having cancer was to work harder than ever. I wanted to work as hard as ever bu the more I worked the more the cancer kept eating and eating at me. My son, whom I taught everything he knows to run the business, is trying to steal it out of my hands now that I seem weak. I will not relinquish what is mine. I can see them waiting for and take my revenge me to die, so they can take everything I own, and everything I worked so hard for. I know I am getting worse, suddenly they are showing up everyday at hospital, so my end must be near.
​
Today, a stranger sat by my side, they said they were Death and I could choose to stay or to go. I chose to stay, and take my revenge.
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[WP] The day you die, Death comes and asks if you are ready to go. Jokingly, you say no. To your surprise, he leaves. Now every year he comes back to ask again
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*This is my first attempt at anything creative in years so sorry if it's a bit pants*
----
The explosion rocked him to his very core, as he fell to the floor the rubble fell around him.
His unit surrounded him,
"I dont want to die" he sobbed as a medic performed first aid. Or was too late for some of his section.
----
Steve awoke in a hospital bed with 2 friends sitting by his side, neither saying a word. There was a third figure, a cloaked man that he felt like he had known all his life. The pain in his legs, the image of that bloody stump, it all started to come back to him. Steve uncontrollably drifted off to nothing once again.
----
Over the next few week Steve learnt the fate of his unit, how 2 of his friends were killed in the immediate explosion and how 3 more were horribly injured. It tore him apart that he was point man, that he initiated the IED, that it was his poor drills that caused the explosion.
There was a piercing scream that filled the wing of the hospital, the grief filled the air. His friends were back with the cloaked figure but this time they brought one more friend into the ward with them. This time they each leaned in turn kissed him on the forehead saying "make it count"
----
A year later Steve was at home, he had caught up with a few of the guys from his unit the other week. By caught up, he had a few drop in to see him. He was drinking again and it was bad this time. His whole section had since left and most had hit the bottle pretty bad. Since the last reunion one of the guys had decided to end it all. He never was the same after that explosion. Noe of them where.
His place was a mess, he struggled to walk anywhere with his goverment issued stump. He stuck to gin and whisky. He hated it but it meant getting up less when walking hurt so much. That's when he tied off the noose
That night Steve was visited by 3 familiar faces and a cloaked figure, but this time there was another. The cloked figure asked, "Are you ready?"
Steve shook his head in horror as his 4 friends each turned to him and said "make it count"
---
A year had passed, Steve was off the drink completely and helping at the local Vets centre. So many people were struggling to get by, that war ruined so many people and he knew that he could help people turn it around, he found a way to help again.
Jane is there too, Jane is always there, her wildness about her eyes, her sass with the biggest of guys and the compassion for those who needed it most, she had the mouth of a sailor and she was perfect.
Steve was helping dig out the store room, the Christmas decorations were usually in the way of everything, as 4 familiar friends walked in. He knew why they were there. The cloaked figures hand rested on Steve's shoulder
"Not yet" Steve proclaimed.
"Make it count" they said and drifted into nothing.
----
The years passed, Steve married Jane with the perfect little wedding, had a little boy called Logan and grew old together helping veterans. logan was hard work for Steve not only because of his injuries but he was a bit older than most the dads but he loved every moment of it.
---
Every year Steve was visited by his friends following the same drill as last time, each time he saw them he was even more shocked by how young they were.
-----
Steve had grown tonbe an old man surrounded by people he loved and Logan was now looking the same age as the friends that were his frequent guests. They visited him but this time it was the friends who asked him if they would come with them.
Steve agreed, but before he did he had to give one last message to Logan. He leaned in, kissed him on the forehead and whispered
"Make it count"
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It has been two years since my battle with cancer started. Before discovering I had cancer I worked everyday of my life to build my own business, and have a successor to keep it going. Now that I had it all, I am dying. The only way I could cope with the fact of having cancer was to work harder than ever. I wanted to work as hard as ever bu the more I worked the more the cancer kept eating and eating at me. My son, whom I taught everything he knows to run the business, is trying to steal it out of my hands now that I seem weak. I will not relinquish what is mine. I can see them waiting for and take my revenge me to die, so they can take everything I own, and everything I worked so hard for. I know I am getting worse, suddenly they are showing up everyday at hospital, so my end must be near.
​
Today, a stranger sat by my side, they said they were Death and I could choose to stay or to go. I chose to stay, and take my revenge.
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[WP] The day you die, Death comes and asks if you are ready to go. Jokingly, you say no. To your surprise, he leaves. Now every year he comes back to ask again
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April 6th was always a special day for Melody. Regardless of all the bad things that happened in her life, the best things happened on April 6th.
Melody was 26 when Death first appeared. She had spotted him down the hallway as she moved about her apartment. The hair on the back of her neck had stood up, but as he moved silently in her direction her tension faded from her. She didn’t know why, but she felt that this apparition was her blessing for the day, which was April 6th.
He appeared to float in a black fog as he towered over Melody. “Human, are you ready to part with your life?” Though no eyes could be seen in the apparition’s skull... she felt as though he had been cataloging each of her various scars and injuries. She could feel him bore into each horrible memory after the other. It felt as if he was telling that she had seen enough... that she had been through enough.
Melody often had trouble smiling from her heart, but when she told him that she wasn’t ready to give up yet she smiled at him easily. Without further word he disappeared from her view.
As if the world had resumed moving she moved to go answer the knock at her door. It was a younger neighbor from down the hall. He had collapsed at her door clutching his chest. Melody ran to get her phone and call an ambulance for him. She stayed by his side till they arrived, never seeing the gun tucked away in his pocket.
From then on, on April 6th, Melody always considered the visit from Death as her blessing. He asked her if she was ready to leave this world behind and when she said no... he saved her from car crashes, a murder/suicide, medication mix-ups, and much more. He never asked any more of her, but as time drew on he lingered more.
When Melody was 31 and the fated April 6th came about, she didn’t answer his question at all. In his confusion he asked her again. “Are you ready to move on from this life?” “Death, why do you continue to save my life when I am not ready to go?” There was silence that followed. His teeth clacked and grinded against each other as if words could be formed from that alone.
“You’ve... had a bad life. I was merely curious if you wanted to continue living it.” A lie. It was a strange intuition she had about the reason. Almost like the grinding of teeth was a tell that hadn’t been abandoned in more than hundreds of years. “And the truth?” She needn’t elaborate any more than that. “You are... important to me. Tell me, do you know why you suffer so?” Melody had often asked that of herself.
“When I was a girl, I dreamed of a past life.” “Tova.” Although she was taken aback by her previous name, she continued. “Yes, Tova was my name. My father was a warrior and my mother oft told tales of his greatness. When he would return from his campaigns he would adorn my room with all sorts of unique toys. He treated me like a princess and gave me all that I could ever want. However, he was a beast in sheep’s clothing. His campaigns were nothing but a cover to rape and pillage. Each toy he gave me was torn from the charred fingers of the children he murdered. Eventually, a old woman laid a curse upon him and his ilk.” The dreams were vivid like a freshly scarred memory.
“My father truly loved my mother and me, but this curse turned all of his cruelty towards us. He slayed my mother and tortured me for many years. I remember begging him to just take my life, but he couldn’t free me from his curse. The daughter who shared his blood would share his fate.”
Silence. When Melody was a child she thought this was just a crazy dream to help her cope with her situation in this life. As the silence grew she knew in this instance that it was not.
“You had a child. Tova had a child.” Her breath hitched and she could feel her veins ice over. “I did. Arylss was his name.” “It means honorable, does it not?” Melody knew now why she felt blessed on April 26th. She bore Arylss on that day. He was a shining light in a dim world. When she had started bleeding, her father sold her to a brothel and eventually she bore a ‘bastard’.
“Yes, honorable. He was my light in a dark world.” There was no visual cue that he was smiling, but she could feel it. “It was you who gave me blessings every year on April 6th wasn’t it?”
More teeth grinding. “Yes, and I reaped your father before it was his time as well.” She nodded slowly. “He will be back for another life, and you will be his daughter once more.”
“Will you be waiting for me to be reborn again?”
“Always.”
“I’m ready, Arylss.” She smiled from her heart as she looked upon him. Even if he was only bones now, he was still just as beautiful of a sight as he had been when she first laid eyes upon him after birth.
“I see...”
“Oh, and Happy Birthday my child.” She stood and softly slid he hood from his skull. Delicately she kissed his head.
With a choked grinding of teeth, “Thank you, mother.”
Note: I typed this on my phone, so I’m really sorry if there are a lot of errors.
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It has been two years since my battle with cancer started. Before discovering I had cancer I worked everyday of my life to build my own business, and have a successor to keep it going. Now that I had it all, I am dying. The only way I could cope with the fact of having cancer was to work harder than ever. I wanted to work as hard as ever bu the more I worked the more the cancer kept eating and eating at me. My son, whom I taught everything he knows to run the business, is trying to steal it out of my hands now that I seem weak. I will not relinquish what is mine. I can see them waiting for and take my revenge me to die, so they can take everything I own, and everything I worked so hard for. I know I am getting worse, suddenly they are showing up everyday at hospital, so my end must be near.
​
Today, a stranger sat by my side, they said they were Death and I could choose to stay or to go. I chose to stay, and take my revenge.
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[WP] The day you die, Death comes and asks if you are ready to go. Jokingly, you say no. To your surprise, he leaves. Now every year he comes back to ask again
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"Are you ready?" Death asked. His emotionless eyes stared down at me, calm and cool.
I huffed out a disagreement as a reply. "No, I didn't want to die just yet. My life just started."
Death didn't say anything, just nodded and turned away. I sucked in the breath of life, hearing the joyful gasp from my surroundings. It was a happy day.
The second time Death visited me, I was under a car, right next to the wheel. Everything around me ceased in time, only Death approached.
"Are you ready?" He asked again. The question sounded light as a feather, but it struck something heavy in my chest.
My eyes found the biggest love of my life, Alice, who was frozen in the air as she ran to my place. Her face twisted in shock and fear. "No," I said, "I'm not ready yet."
Death tilted his head, the corner of his mouth twitched. "Very well." He whispered and turned around. Death left again. I was spared one more time.
The third time I met Death, the house was on fire. Death walked through the flames like walking through silk. He crouched down next to me, asking the familiar question. "Are you ready?"
I glanced down at the leg that was crushed by the fallen closet and then brought my eyes up at Death. "I'm sorry, I'm not ready. Alice is still in her room. I need to wake her up."
Death gestured my leg. "If you go on, the rest of your life would be in pain."
"It doesn't matter." I coughed. My eyes were dry and my throat was on fire. "Alice means everything to me."
Death sighed, standing up. "We'll be seeing each other again." He left, as usual.
The fire destroyed the house. The only thing I could remember from that night besides the conversation with Death was Alice's relieved face when she found out we both survived. I had no idea how I was able to carry her out, but I managed. Somehow, I had a feeling that Death had spared us both.
Years went by, and soon enough I was old, very old. And sick. I laid still on my bed when my family gathered around. Many of them cried, and I wished I could do something about it. But I was too weak to move.
Everyone said their farewell, because they knew my time had come. I did, too. I could already feel Death's presence.
"I'm not ready yet, Death." I said, knowing Death would hear me. "Alice isn't here yet. I can't go without seeing Alice for the last time."
"Don't worry, my friend." Death's hollow voice echoed in my ears. "I'll wait with you."
And he did. I took every heavy breath carefully, stringing along my chance. Then I heard Alice's familiar footsteps. I opened my eyes to see her rushing through the door.
She called out my name, wrapping her arms around me. The warmth and scent were welcoming. This was it. This was home.
With teary eyes, Alice said her goodbye. I laid my head on her hands, taking in every word. She said she loved me. I knew that already, but my heart jumped for joy every time she did.
"I am ready, Death." I closed my eyes.
The pain, the weight, the stiff movements suddenly left my body. I opened my eyes and found myself next to Death, right behind my family. Everyone was weeping, and half of me wanted to stay. But I knew it was impossible.
"I apologize for not coming with you so many times." I said to Death.
Death shook his head. "It's fine." He patted my head. "Let's go."
I took a final glance at Alice and her family, then walked alongside with Death.
"What's next?" I asked.
"Why don't you tell me? It has always been your decision."
I thought for a moment and suggested, "I want to stay by your side, is that okay?"
Death smiled for the first time. "Who am I to refuse a good boy's request?"
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It has been two years since my battle with cancer started. Before discovering I had cancer I worked everyday of my life to build my own business, and have a successor to keep it going. Now that I had it all, I am dying. The only way I could cope with the fact of having cancer was to work harder than ever. I wanted to work as hard as ever bu the more I worked the more the cancer kept eating and eating at me. My son, whom I taught everything he knows to run the business, is trying to steal it out of my hands now that I seem weak. I will not relinquish what is mine. I can see them waiting for and take my revenge me to die, so they can take everything I own, and everything I worked so hard for. I know I am getting worse, suddenly they are showing up everyday at hospital, so my end must be near.
​
Today, a stranger sat by my side, they said they were Death and I could choose to stay or to go. I chose to stay, and take my revenge.
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[WP] The day you die, Death comes and asks if you are ready to go. Jokingly, you say no. To your surprise, he leaves. Now every year he comes back to ask again
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I died choking on lunch in my office. Ironic, because we’d just spent the Friday two weeks ago going over CPR and first aid procedures, but obviously that didn’t do much good. I suppose I could have done more to help myself - I have my own office, so there was no one there to see me clutching at my throat. I could have taken the few steps into the hallway, but I didn’t. I stood at my desk and tried to lodge the cucumber (cucumber! What a waste!) out by slamming myself against the top of my office chair.
Eventually, things just went black. When I came to, he was standing there, brandishing a clip board. “All right,” he said. “Ready to go?”
He didn’t fit any of the depictions of himself I’d seen on tv, but I knew right away who he was. That’s how it is with those in power though. They certainly don’t need a name tag.
I looked at my half finished salad on my desk, on top of the stack of paperwork I needed to have done for the audit next week. My boss had been in this same office just hours before, squeezing the bridge of her nose, telling me how stressed everyone was and how important finishing up those files was.
I was saying the words before I’d even thought them through - “Maybe I could just have a little extra time? To finish this up?”
Death made a mark on his clipboard and shrugged his shoulders. In a blink, he was gone. I sat back down at my desk and finished my salad.
A month later, I was fairly certain I’d fallen asleep at my desk. The cucumber that had been lodged in my throat never came out, so it made sense I’d imagined it all. By six months, I was sure it had just been a dream. I hadn’t been getting good sleep, anyway, pulling extra hours to get everything done.
A year later, though, he came again. Same clipboard. “Are you ready?”
I shook my head. Motioned to my desk again - “It seems it never stops piling up, doesn’t it?”
Death made another mark and an expression I couldn’t place. Annoyance? Pity? Again, he was gone in a blink.
And so it happened, year in and year out. He’d always show up and ask if I was ready, and I’d always point out the stack of paperwork on my desk and tell him not quite.
According to my calendar, he should be here in just a few moments. I stayed late all last week getting everything ready. I suppose after so many years, the curiosity has got the better of me.
He arrives right on time. Pulls out his clipboard, asks the standard question. This time, I put the note I wrote to my boss on my desk and stand up. “All right,” I say. “I’m ready to die.”
Death marks his clipboard and reaches one hand out to me and places it on my shoulder. “You’re ready to go now, you mean” he says. “You’ve been dead for twenty six years. Since you choked on that cucumber.”
I don’t understand what he means. Death can see my obvious confusion, and explains further: “You died the first time I came for you. You left earth as you know it at that time. You just weren’t ready to move on. You’ve been here, working away, ever since.”
“What do you mean? I’ve been here, everything has been the same. My coworkers, the Chinese food delivery guy, it’s all been there.”
“A representation of it has. But not the real people. This work, it’s not real, of course.” With a wave of his hand, the papers on my desk started to disappear. Another wave, and my desk was gone. Then the walls. Then the ceiling and the floor until we were standing in nothing.
Death pushes me forward. “You’re ready now, though” he says. “That’s all that matters.”
|
It has been two years since my battle with cancer started. Before discovering I had cancer I worked everyday of my life to build my own business, and have a successor to keep it going. Now that I had it all, I am dying. The only way I could cope with the fact of having cancer was to work harder than ever. I wanted to work as hard as ever bu the more I worked the more the cancer kept eating and eating at me. My son, whom I taught everything he knows to run the business, is trying to steal it out of my hands now that I seem weak. I will not relinquish what is mine. I can see them waiting for and take my revenge me to die, so they can take everything I own, and everything I worked so hard for. I know I am getting worse, suddenly they are showing up everyday at hospital, so my end must be near.
​
Today, a stranger sat by my side, they said they were Death and I could choose to stay or to go. I chose to stay, and take my revenge.
|
|
[WP] The day you die, Death comes and asks if you are ready to go. Jokingly, you say no. To your surprise, he leaves. Now every year he comes back to ask again
|
I was surprised death left, and when I woke up, I was even more surprised. My family was crying, and once they found out I would be okay, they were so happy.
I eventually forgot about the entire thing, as much of that period is hard to remember. But 6 months later, death took my brother and sister. I was so confused and upset. Why did they give up so easily? What did they do to deserve death?
I fell into a depression, and my parents began to worry. I could barely stay in the house without breaking down. But somewhere deep inside of me knew that I shouldn’t of said no, that it was my fault, that if I were to die now it would all be okay.
I didn’t listen, but one day, I was greeted by police at the front door. The same day i was greeted by death. Exactly one year later. Iwas told my parents had died.
Time seemed to stop, as I pushed past the officers and ran out into the street. I could hear them yelling to stop, but I couldn’t care to listen. I had lost everyone I loved and held dear. I had no other family, as my grandparents died before I was born.
Everything faded to black and was greeted by, not death, but my brother.
“Hey sis.” A sadness to his voice,
“Jay? What are you- how are you-?”
I stopped myself, as I felt I already knew the answer.
“Are you... death?”
Jay only slightly smiled.
“In order to save someone’s life, I have to give up something. With you in such a bad state, my life was what it took. Bella understands, she wanted you to live too.”
“But... what now?” I asked while choking up. “Is it my time to go?”
Jay laughed and shook his head.
“No, it’s-“
“But Jay, what do I have to live for?”
Jay went silent for a few seconds.
“You can make the world a better place, you can save people from death if you wanted! Friends, pets, people... you can live for them.”
I shakily smiled.
“Thank you Jay. I’ll miss you.”
“Bye Lia, live life out to the greatest.”
And he disappeared, and I lived. I was adopted by one of the police officers as he was good friends with my mom. I became a doctor and saved lives just as he would of wanted me to.
But one day, after a patient had recovered from a deadly car crash, he seemed to remember something.
“Oh, Dr. Lia!”
“Yes?”
“When I was asleep, this guy talked to me and told me to say hello! So, hello from weird guy!”
The boy smiled, and I realized how much he was like Jay.
“He said my mom and dad wouldn’t want me to come with them yet, so I made sure I woke up.”
I was so close to crying.
“And what’s your name?”
“Oh yeah! My name is Jay!”
After that, I adopted him. I knew Jay would be in this world again one day. I hope he’s proud of me.
I could tell now he was just like Jay, and I don’t mind seeing my son, as the new death, every day or year.
|
“No” [Poem]
Once again, Death comes around.
Once he asked me if I’m ready to go.
Jokingly, of course, I answered no.
Now, every year he comes around.
Asks me if I’m to go, every year I feel compelled.
To answer no for one last time.
Thousand times, thousand times.
Grim Reaper’s face is sagging still.
Yet I cannot shake the idea to keep living on
forevermore.
-
In the hospital, as I shake.
Another line grazed upon my face.
My monitor flatlines, and I awake.
Cloaked and I see him, a friend of time and time again.
-
I say no, and I fall beneath, my feet.
-
In the hospital, as I shake.
Another line grazed upon my face.
My monitor flatlines, as I awake.
Cloaked and I see him, a friend of time and time again.
-
I say no, and I fall beneath, my feet.
-
In the hospital, as I shake.
Another line grazed upon my face.
My monitor flatlines, as I awake.
Cloaked and I see him, a friend of time and time again.
-
I say no, and I fall beneath, my feet.
-
In the hospital, as I shake.
Another line grazed upon my face.
My monitor flatlines, as I awake.
Cloaked and I see him, a friend of time and time again.
-
I say yes, and I’m taken towards whatever lies before.
-
Goodbye, goodbye.
Goodbye.
|
|
[WP] The day you die, Death comes and asks if you are ready to go. Jokingly, you say no. To your surprise, he leaves. Now every year he comes back to ask again
|
It was raining, hard, that October day, and the wind was rocking the boat in her slip. I forgot my lifejacket, and my parents were too busy getting the boat ready for the end of the season.
I wanted to go and play in the park near the marina, so I leapt the gap between boat and dock. Got there okay, but the wood was so slippery.
I fell. It was cold beyond cold. I could swim, but this was completely different.
A soft voice in my ear, my late great-grandmother’s, asked, “Are you ready to go?”
“No! I’m only six!” I yelled in childish frustration.
“Okay, dear.” I woke up coughing up lake water and colder than I had ever been in my life.
The next year, I climbed too high in the old spruce tree with my brother. There was a yell and a crack. It was all so fast.
“Are you ready to go?” It was the old lady from the sweet shop in the town where my family vacationed. She always used to give me the broken candies.
“No. I’m only seven,” I said, more calmly, having learned from last year.
“Okay, honey.”
I woke up on the needle-strewn forest floor, head aching, ears ringing with my brother’s screams.
When I was eight, it happened very suddenly. I was just walking in the woods, and heard the voice, a young man’s. I had heard it before on the news. Columbine.
“Ready to go, kiddo?”
“No. I’m still a kid. But what-?”
*BANG* I instinctively ducked. Then a blaze of orange in the trees, and a bullet in the pine just behind me. “Oh God. I thought you were a deer.”
The next year, it was all of us. The infamous gales of November seemed to have come up suddenly on that beautiful Indian-summer Lake Superior day. The boat was built for racing, for speed. An odd choice for a family craft, but my dad had gotten her cheap. The wind howled, waves tossed her around like a bath toy, and my mom was so scared she actually held me. She’s stopped doing that when I was three.
I saw a dim image of the ancient black dog my family had recently lost. She couldn’t speak but the message was clear.
“You all ready to go?”
“No!” I shouted into the wind. “We can make it!”
My dad told the story of our adventure for years to come. He always says it’s an adventure as long as you survive!
It was a perfect day on remote Isle Royale when I next heard the voice, unknown but smelling of wet canvas and something deep and metallic. My senses went on high alert, waiting for the threat.
“Ready to go?”
“No! I just hit double digits.”
“Then you’d better get out of the way!” I scrambled up the nearest tree, my foot nearly touching the back of an enormous moose- a cow, I thought hysterically, no antlers- as she crashed across the path.
It came on slowly the next year. My mom was running a student exchange in Germany and took me with. I loved it, at first, but developed such a severe foreign virus that I couldn’t even keep water down. As I lay miserably in my bed under the eaves, I saw a feverish image of a gaunt man in grey rags and a number on his arm.
“Are you ready to go, *schatz*?” he asked
I coughed, forced down bile, licked my sandpaper dry lips, and said what I always had. No. Well, *nein*. He had asked in German.
The next year, it was the cat. I had started down the steep basement stairs to feed his surviving sister, and slipped. In the few seconds of my fall, his calm brown eyes looked into mine, and asked, *Are you ready to go?* without words.
I shook my head, and woke up with a concussion on the bottom step.
Life was harder the next year. I was often bullied and iced out, alone everywhere. Nothing was fun any more. I didn’t know what to do. Still, I nearly screamed when I heard my own voice in my ear.
“Ready to go, you piece of shit?” she snarled.
“N-no,” I stammered. “I’m sure high school will be better.”
She asked me twice more, and I always said no, though it grew harder. I began harming myself just to get through the day.
Then when I was sixteen, I had the accident. I went too deep. I couldn’t seem to stop the bleeding. As I frantically pressed a towel to my leg, and grew weaker, she- I?- asked almost kindly.
“It’s so hard. Ready to go?”
“Ye-no” I changed my mind. When I was fourteen, I had finally made a friend. She was closer than my own brother. I couldn’t hurt her, and even though it was a long way yet, I could see hope when I went to college.
“Have it your way, then. Honestly, I admire your determination.” And she-I?- opened her mouth and began to scream and scream, until my friend burst into the bathroom.
Life grew better that next year. I began the process of facing my pain, and hoped that I wouldn’t hear death any longer now that I was better. I was wrong. The night of the seventh Harry Potter book release at midnight, I was walking home from the bookstore, trying to read by the moonlight and streetlights as I want.
“Are you ready to go, sweetheart? Let me give you another fiver.” It was my paternal grandfather. He always shook my hand and gave me some money whenever I said goodbye after a visit. He held out his hand.
“No, sorry, Grandpa. Things are finally looking up for me. I miss you though.”
“All right, then.”
A truck blared past me on the nearly empty road, so close it tore my light jacket off. Shaking, I put the book under my arm. No more reading and walking for me.
(I could go up to my current age, 28, let me know if you want more!)
|
“No” [Poem]
Once again, Death comes around.
Once he asked me if I’m ready to go.
Jokingly, of course, I answered no.
Now, every year he comes around.
Asks me if I’m to go, every year I feel compelled.
To answer no for one last time.
Thousand times, thousand times.
Grim Reaper’s face is sagging still.
Yet I cannot shake the idea to keep living on
forevermore.
-
In the hospital, as I shake.
Another line grazed upon my face.
My monitor flatlines, and I awake.
Cloaked and I see him, a friend of time and time again.
-
I say no, and I fall beneath, my feet.
-
In the hospital, as I shake.
Another line grazed upon my face.
My monitor flatlines, as I awake.
Cloaked and I see him, a friend of time and time again.
-
I say no, and I fall beneath, my feet.
-
In the hospital, as I shake.
Another line grazed upon my face.
My monitor flatlines, as I awake.
Cloaked and I see him, a friend of time and time again.
-
I say no, and I fall beneath, my feet.
-
In the hospital, as I shake.
Another line grazed upon my face.
My monitor flatlines, as I awake.
Cloaked and I see him, a friend of time and time again.
-
I say yes, and I’m taken towards whatever lies before.
-
Goodbye, goodbye.
Goodbye.
|
|
[WP] The day you die, Death comes and asks if you are ready to go. Jokingly, you say no. To your surprise, he leaves. Now every year he comes back to ask again
|
I was chilling in my house in my boxers. I was sitting in my easy chair, preparing to watch a marathon of Hammer Horror films. Suddenly a cloud of mist engulfed the room. All the lights dimmed and I felt cold. I was terrified and wondered if this was the end. Then a hooded figure appeared.
“OOOOOOOOHH.” said the figure, waving it’s arms. I couldn’t help it. I burst out laughing. The figure raised its scythe to me.
“Don’t laugh.” said the figure. “I am Death. Your time has come.”
“Nice Halloween costume,” I said.
“It’s not a Halloween costume!” said Death, pulling down his hood to reveal a skeletal face.
“Nice plastic skull mask.” I said.
“It’s not a costume!” Death raised his scythe again and slashed my arm with it.
“Ow! What the fuck!” I yelled. “They let you walk around with that thing?”
“I don’t have time for this.” said Death. “Your time has come. Are you ready to go?”
“Are you really asking me?” I said.
“Of course, there is always a choice.”
“Well then, I’ll have to say no.”
“Ok then.”
“That’s it?”
“That’s it. I’ll return at a later date.”
“Come back anytime.” I said, sinking back into my chair, ready to watch some movies. “Honey, I cut myself!” I yelled to my wife.
​
A year later, I was in the bath. I always hated baths until I got older and enjoyed the affect of a warm bath on my aging body. I was flicking my doodle back and forth, when I felt a sudden chill. The room got dark and misty again.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake!” I yelled. Death had appeared again in front of me.
“Would it kill you to knock?” I asked,
“Hello again.” said Death. “How has this last year of life treated you?”
“Oh, can’t complain. I got laid off and my wife has medical bills.”
“That’s life.” said Death in a bored voice. “It gives you things and takes them away.”
“Well, I’d love to chat longer, but as you can see, this is an inopportune time for me.” I said.
“This will be quick.” said Death. “I have come to ask you again if you are ready to depart this world.”
“No.” I said. “Not quite ready yet.”
“Very well,” said Death. “Have a nice day.”
Death faded into the darkness, and the mist dissipated from the room. Someone was knocking on the bathroom door. It was my wife.
“Are you talking to someone in there?”
​
Another year passed. I was sitting on a chair on my back porch, a beer in my hand. Suddenly the familiar mist appeared again. I groaned in annoyance. Death was there, standing on my back porch.
“Hello again.” said Death.
“Death,” I said, nodding my head but not looking at him.
We stood for a while admiring the view of my backyard.
“Another year gone by.” said Death.
“The world keeps turning even when mine doesn’t.” I said.
“Yes, I came to visit your wife a few months ago.” said Death. “She left with me right away, unlike you. Wouldn’t you like to be with her?”
“Nope, not ready to die.” I said curtly.
“What is there for you here without your wife?” asked Death. “You don’t seem to be leading a very fulfilling life anymore.”
“I’m just… I’m afraid of what happens next.”
“It’s very painless, I assure you.”
“You said I always had a choice.”
“You do.”
“Then I’m not ready yet.” I said firmly.
“Very well. Until our next meeting.” Death had his usual exit, and I was left alone with my thoughts.
​
Twenty years went by. Death came to visit me for the first 8, as usual, but eventually even he gave up trying to convince me. I kept to a usual routine each day, but life had taken its toll. My eyesight was nearly gone and my hands were withered and arthritic. I was sitting on the porch drinking a beer when Death showed again.
“Hello old friend.”
“Death,” I said. “It’s been a while. Thought’d you given up on me.”
“I never give up on anyone.”
“How have you been these last few years?” I asked.
“You know, no one has ever asked about me.” said Death.
“It’s your getup.” I said. “You could wear more welcoming attire.”
“People are scared of death,” he said. “I don’t know why. No one is scared of being born.”
“No one remembers their birth,” I said.
“It is so confusing, being born. You’re wet and cold, and not yet ready for this big world.”
“Death is scarier,” I said.
“You know, most people your age are ready to accept death.”
“I don’t know why.”
“What are you living for?” said Death. “Your wife wouldn’t have wanted you to live your last years like this. If you’re not ready to die, but you don’t want to live, what do you want?”
“You’re right,” I said, contemplating. We sat in more silence until Death was ready to leave again.
“I’ve got a lot more appointments today. If you’re not ready to come, I will just say, until our next meeting.”
Death left again. That night, I called up some of my old buddies I hadn’t talked to in years. Most of them had passed on by this point, but I made plans to meet with two surviving friends.
​
Three more years passed. I was sitting in an easy chair in a neighbors house. Death came again for the last time.
“Hello Death.” I said, opening my eyes.
“Thought I’d try again. I heard from Alan before he died.”
“Alan was a good friend and he had an amazing family.” I said.
“He seemed glad you chose to reconnect with him again.”
“It felt good to be back in the world for a while.” I said. “I’ve been talking to some high schoolers. Listening to their stories and telling them all about my past. It’s been great reliving it all. I had a fulfilling life.”
“That’s nice to hear.” said Death. “So are you finally ready?”
“Yes, I do believe it’s time.” I said, slowing rising from my chair and offering a handshake to Death. “And I really have to thank you for all your help.”
I looked back at the chair and saw my body still sitting there, limp. “Would you look at that.” I said. I turned and walked with Death and vanished into the mist.
|
“No” [Poem]
Once again, Death comes around.
Once he asked me if I’m ready to go.
Jokingly, of course, I answered no.
Now, every year he comes around.
Asks me if I’m to go, every year I feel compelled.
To answer no for one last time.
Thousand times, thousand times.
Grim Reaper’s face is sagging still.
Yet I cannot shake the idea to keep living on
forevermore.
-
In the hospital, as I shake.
Another line grazed upon my face.
My monitor flatlines, and I awake.
Cloaked and I see him, a friend of time and time again.
-
I say no, and I fall beneath, my feet.
-
In the hospital, as I shake.
Another line grazed upon my face.
My monitor flatlines, as I awake.
Cloaked and I see him, a friend of time and time again.
-
I say no, and I fall beneath, my feet.
-
In the hospital, as I shake.
Another line grazed upon my face.
My monitor flatlines, as I awake.
Cloaked and I see him, a friend of time and time again.
-
I say no, and I fall beneath, my feet.
-
In the hospital, as I shake.
Another line grazed upon my face.
My monitor flatlines, as I awake.
Cloaked and I see him, a friend of time and time again.
-
I say yes, and I’m taken towards whatever lies before.
-
Goodbye, goodbye.
Goodbye.
|
|
[WP] The day you die, Death comes and asks if you are ready to go. Jokingly, you say no. To your surprise, he leaves. Now every year he comes back to ask again
|
It was all because of pizza.
I had been focused all day on having dinner at the gourmet pizza place my friends and I were currently obsessed with. Our first meal there had been a revelation for me. My god, pizza can taste like this? We were there every Thursday night since it opened, convinced that this could never last.
Driving there, late from work, I'd been on the phone to my friend Nigel debating whether to order the mushrooms and anchovies. *"That does look amazing but those garlic prawns! It's redefined eating for me!"*
My last words.
I obviously wasn't paying attention to the road and the next thing I know I'm upside down and there's liquid everywhere. Some of it was petrol, some of it was blood.
It was all bad.
So I'm hanging there and someone is leaning in the upside down window, offering me a hand. The hand was see-through and seemed made of light but it was dark. It didn't make sense. And then a voice said *"It is your time."*
I was strangely serene. I was aware of bits of me being broken but it didn't matter. I was peaceful - more peaceful than I had ever felt before. I was happy to go with my new friend.
But then a vision of garlic prawns on a thin-crust base appeared and I groaned *"No!"*
*"No?"* the voice was serene but puzzled. *"Really?"*
*"Just one more pizza!"* I whispered.
*"So be it."*
And then I was in hospital and the doctor was telling someone that it was a miracle I was alive.
I dismissed the whole thing as a dream. The next year I was on a rock climbing holiday in Morocco and found myself trying to impress a cute Norwegian backpacker. I reached out and discovered I had overestimated my ability AND that my rope wasn't as secure as it should have been.
Next thing I know I'm lying on the ground and there's a tall dark figure made of light reaching out a hand for me.
*"It is time."*
There was that feeling of inevitability but I seemed to remember this happening before. Then I remembered the pizza incident and said *"Haven't we done this before?"*
*"Yes. It really is time now though. Come"*
*"What if i say no?"*
There was a pause. The dark figure was silent for a moment and then the voice spoke again: *"I can't take you if you say no. But you really should consider the..."*
I blurted out *"No!"* like a child who discovers a new word and wants to play with it. Cheating death is this easy? I could still have a chance with that Norwegian backpacker!
The dark figure had a beseeching quality in that ethereal voice. *"Can I just explain..."*
But then the ambulance was there and I woke up in hospital and it was another miracle. The Norwegian backpacker was suitably impressed and I had discovered the cheat code for life itself!
I quit my job, bought a funky camera and started posting extreme climbing and base-jumping videos. I became a viral sensation, the man who knew no fear! And then one day I jumped off a ledge at the same time as a mountain goat and **BAM!** There I was again, all messed up and that dark figure was there, telling me this time it really was time.
I was cocky by now. *"You sure about that?"*
That etheral voice was a bit louder now: *"YES! You don't know..."*
*"No! I don't want to go. I want to do Extreme pogo-stick Mountaineering! I haven't lived yet!"*
*"Please, will you just..."*
*"NO!"*
And then I was at the bottom of a mountain, my body all messed up. But I was looking at my body. And I looked dead. Really dead. My extreme buddies were gathered around me and one of them was saying *"he would have wanted to go out like this."*
*"Bullshit I would!"* I tried to shout, but I had no lungs. I was made of light. *"What's going on?"*
*"I tried to tell you."* I turned around and there was the dark figure.
*"Tried to tell me what?"*
*"You can't just keep saying 'no' and have a body to go back to."* The figure gestured to me and then began moving away. I followed, trying to stay calm.
*"So... am I dead then?"*
*"No. You had three chances to die. But you said no to all of them, so you're a spirit now."* There was an edge of annoyance in the voice: *"A disembodied spirit trapped in the form realm."*
*"OK."* I said, trying to focus on what I was being told. I was still upset over all the Extreme pogo-stick Mountaineering adventures I would never experience. C'mon, I told myself, focus! *"So what do I do now?"*
*"Well, you can hang around the living. Most who do that go mad with jealousy very quickly. Occasionally you'll be able to scare someone by impersonating a ghost but that gets old real quick. Eventually you will do what has to be done to leave here and go to the formless realm, the place you are bound for. Otherwise you will be here for eternity, watching the sun die and the stars fade and the planet itself crumble and..."*
*"OK! I hear you! So, what do I have to do?"*
A long arm stretched and a finger made of light that was dark pointed. I peered in that direction and saw a mountain. A huge mountain. *"Wow, I'd like to pogo-stick down that!"*
*"It doesn't exist in the form realm,"* said the voice, annoyed. Then it carried on calmly: *"It is the only gateway point out of here into the formless realm. If you climb to the top and wait, you will be met by the One who can transport you across the veil into that which words cannot..."*
*"Gotcha!"* I was relieved. I'd been afraid of some huge ordeal, but climb a mountain? *"Not a problem. Just get to the top and wait yeah?"*
*"Yes. The One comes when the veil is thin and..."*
*"I hear you good buddy! I can climb a mountain, no sweat."* I laughed at my own comment. *"Ha! Of course there's no sweat, I don't have a body!"* My dark-light companion said nothing, just kept moving, closer to the Mountain.
It was **huge**. Bigger than Everest. Bigger than the Himalyas. As we walked I saw other dark figures escorting spirits. I pointed to them and asked my dark figure *"Did they say 'no' too?"*
*"Yes,"* and there was a disdainful edge to the voice. *"You are not the first to say 'no' three times to Death."*
I nodded. It figured a few others would be as clever as I was. I told myself to start reframing this as an adventure. My last mountain climb and then onto the great beyond! Woo-hoo! And I'd have some climbing companions too. I waved at another spirit and they tentatively waved back. We'd have plenty of time to connect and bond; it would be a long climb up.
*"I wish I had a ghost video camera, that thing is huge! This is going to be epic!"* The mountain grew bigger with every step. And it grew stranger too. Quite weird in fact. *"Is the mountain... moving?"* I asked. The surface seemed to be writhing.
*"No."*
I looked for a good long while and then my gaze travelled down to the base of the mountain. There I suddenly realised what the movement was.
The mountain and the land all around it were covered in spirits. Like ants on a tree stump they were climbing all over the mountain, completely covering it in a carpet of limbs and bodies. Spirits climbing up every surface, some falling off, some fighting each other, all trying to get to the top. At the very top I could just see a single figure reach the apex and reach out for something above them. And then suddenly they were falling, falling, falling for what seemed a very long time.
My companion was right. I wasn't the first to say 'no' to Death.
*"Ah,"* I said, trying to take it all in, *"is there another mountain?"*
*"No."* Around me more spirits were arriving, and looking for a long time. And then slowly walking into the writhing mass of spirits that had fallen and were getting up to start climbing the mountain again.
The dark figure had a different tone of voice now. Slightly amused. *"We call this the Mountain of Regret. I believe you humans call it hell."* And then he was gone. Leaving me alone, staring at a mountain as big as a planet, covered in spirits all fighting to get to the top.
And all because of Pizza.
|
“No” [Poem]
Once again, Death comes around.
Once he asked me if I’m ready to go.
Jokingly, of course, I answered no.
Now, every year he comes around.
Asks me if I’m to go, every year I feel compelled.
To answer no for one last time.
Thousand times, thousand times.
Grim Reaper’s face is sagging still.
Yet I cannot shake the idea to keep living on
forevermore.
-
In the hospital, as I shake.
Another line grazed upon my face.
My monitor flatlines, and I awake.
Cloaked and I see him, a friend of time and time again.
-
I say no, and I fall beneath, my feet.
-
In the hospital, as I shake.
Another line grazed upon my face.
My monitor flatlines, as I awake.
Cloaked and I see him, a friend of time and time again.
-
I say no, and I fall beneath, my feet.
-
In the hospital, as I shake.
Another line grazed upon my face.
My monitor flatlines, as I awake.
Cloaked and I see him, a friend of time and time again.
-
I say no, and I fall beneath, my feet.
-
In the hospital, as I shake.
Another line grazed upon my face.
My monitor flatlines, as I awake.
Cloaked and I see him, a friend of time and time again.
-
I say yes, and I’m taken towards whatever lies before.
-
Goodbye, goodbye.
Goodbye.
|
|
[WP] The day you die, Death comes and asks if you are ready to go. Jokingly, you say no. To your surprise, he leaves. Now every year he comes back to ask again
|
"Am I going to see her when I go with you?"
"Alexander, every year we go through this - once I hand them off, I don't know what happens. No one's ever come back once I've taken them so I have no idea."
Its an odd conversation to be having on a subway train at 3 AM, but every year they show up in some different costume - the year it was the little girl was particularly disconcerting. Death seems to favor appearances that allow them to walk among the people without notice. This year they seem to have decided on the woman on her way from one job to another - green polo shirt, black dress pants, comfortable shoes. Though you'd guess she'd be speaking with a thick Hindi accent, the voice that comes out of her slight frame rolls like distant thunder, deep and sonorous, speaking with an accent you've never heard from any other living person.
The man sitting near the woman looks out the window, not at the woman. His long hair graying and pulled back into a ponytail. He carries an attache bag, looking like a high school teacher or overburdened social workers.
"Then I'm sorry that you wasted your time coming out here tonight. I'm not ready and I'm not going to be ready until I know I'll see her again." the man called Alexander said, his voice steady
"Its not a waste of time." the woman who was Death replied, her eyes not moving from the man. They sat for a minute in silence, the only sound the wheels of the train on the tracks clattering away. "Can I ask you a question?" the deep voice Death asks, a note of trepidation in their deep tones.
Alexander seems to tense before biting off a response, icy and short "This is your meeting, isn't it? October 6th, same as every year."
Death either didn't notice the effort expended by the gray haired man or didn't care. "If you loved her so much, why are you still here? Every year we meet and every year you say you won't go until you know you can see her. But you know that won't happen while you're alive. She went through to the other side, she's...wherever she's supposed to be." and the woman looked with what could be concern at the man "You'd be surprised how close of tabs I keep on you Alexander. No children, no siblings, couple of cats, same route to and from same dead end job every day. What do you stay here for?"
The only sound is the clattering of the train down the tracks. The man looks out the window, not saying anything. This silence stretches out as the train slows down, pulling into the next station "I suppose I'll see you next year." He says sadly to an empty car before reaching into his bag and pulling out a book. Pressed between two of the pages is a photo; the man, with darker hair and less of a paunch, a woman with chestnut hair, thick black framed glasses and smiling eyes each hold a kitten. The man's is ginger and looks perturbed, the woman's is black and white and it looks like it's trying to bat at a lock of her hair that's fallen over her face.
|
“No” [Poem]
Once again, Death comes around.
Once he asked me if I’m ready to go.
Jokingly, of course, I answered no.
Now, every year he comes around.
Asks me if I’m to go, every year I feel compelled.
To answer no for one last time.
Thousand times, thousand times.
Grim Reaper’s face is sagging still.
Yet I cannot shake the idea to keep living on
forevermore.
-
In the hospital, as I shake.
Another line grazed upon my face.
My monitor flatlines, and I awake.
Cloaked and I see him, a friend of time and time again.
-
I say no, and I fall beneath, my feet.
-
In the hospital, as I shake.
Another line grazed upon my face.
My monitor flatlines, as I awake.
Cloaked and I see him, a friend of time and time again.
-
I say no, and I fall beneath, my feet.
-
In the hospital, as I shake.
Another line grazed upon my face.
My monitor flatlines, as I awake.
Cloaked and I see him, a friend of time and time again.
-
I say no, and I fall beneath, my feet.
-
In the hospital, as I shake.
Another line grazed upon my face.
My monitor flatlines, as I awake.
Cloaked and I see him, a friend of time and time again.
-
I say yes, and I’m taken towards whatever lies before.
-
Goodbye, goodbye.
Goodbye.
|
|
[WP] The day you die, Death comes and asks if you are ready to go. Jokingly, you say no. To your surprise, he leaves. Now every year he comes back to ask again
|
I was surprised death left, and when I woke up, I was even more surprised. My family was crying, and once they found out I would be okay, they were so happy.
I eventually forgot about the entire thing, as much of that period is hard to remember. But 6 months later, death took my brother and sister. I was so confused and upset. Why did they give up so easily? What did they do to deserve death?
I fell into a depression, and my parents began to worry. I could barely stay in the house without breaking down. But somewhere deep inside of me knew that I shouldn’t of said no, that it was my fault, that if I were to die now it would all be okay.
I didn’t listen, but one day, I was greeted by police at the front door. The same day i was greeted by death. Exactly one year later. Iwas told my parents had died.
Time seemed to stop, as I pushed past the officers and ran out into the street. I could hear them yelling to stop, but I couldn’t care to listen. I had lost everyone I loved and held dear. I had no other family, as my grandparents died before I was born.
Everything faded to black and was greeted by, not death, but my brother.
“Hey sis.” A sadness to his voice,
“Jay? What are you- how are you-?”
I stopped myself, as I felt I already knew the answer.
“Are you... death?”
Jay only slightly smiled.
“In order to save someone’s life, I have to give up something. With you in such a bad state, my life was what it took. Bella understands, she wanted you to live too.”
“But... what now?” I asked while choking up. “Is it my time to go?”
Jay laughed and shook his head.
“No, it’s-“
“But Jay, what do I have to live for?”
Jay went silent for a few seconds.
“You can make the world a better place, you can save people from death if you wanted! Friends, pets, people... you can live for them.”
I shakily smiled.
“Thank you Jay. I’ll miss you.”
“Bye Lia, live life out to the greatest.”
And he disappeared, and I lived. I was adopted by one of the police officers as he was good friends with my mom. I became a doctor and saved lives just as he would of wanted me to.
But one day, after a patient had recovered from a deadly car crash, he seemed to remember something.
“Oh, Dr. Lia!”
“Yes?”
“When I was asleep, this guy talked to me and told me to say hello! So, hello from weird guy!”
The boy smiled, and I realized how much he was like Jay.
“He said my mom and dad wouldn’t want me to come with them yet, so I made sure I woke up.”
I was so close to crying.
“And what’s your name?”
“Oh yeah! My name is Jay!”
After that, I adopted him. I knew Jay would be in this world again one day. I hope he’s proud of me.
I could tell now he was just like Jay, and I don’t mind seeing my son, as the new death, every day or year.
|
“Is she going to be okay?” My sister asks the doctor. The voices start to muffle and burgeon further away from me; My body suddenly grows cold and numb. It’s already as if I’ve ascended from this world. The surrounding parts of me are no longer recognizable. I can’t hear, I can’t see. I can’t move.
Nothing.
“It’s flatlined.” She’s...”
The heart the used to beat has come to an end. I no longer exist. The blackness consumes me...
I couldn’t believe that I was looking back at myself, only this time I wasn’t moving. I saw my sister resting her hand on mine, and my brother weeping softly in the corner. My senses have come back and a shudder rushes over my spirit. A cold, hard tap follows behind it. I looked to the right of the hospital room to see a tall figure. About 8 feet in size; lengthy and dark. His clothes consisted of nothing but a hooded cloak that touched the tips of the floor perfectly, with rips and holes covering the majority of the surface. I could say that my heart was beating out of my chest, but I’d be lying. I tried to find a face in the darkness of the cloak but no luck.
What seems like a thousand whispers all comes flooding into me. “Hello. My name is Death, and I have been watching you for some time now, as you’ve been laying in this bed. I have come to take you but first I have a few inquiries.”
“So why didn’t you just kill me. You watched me suffer.”
“That’s what I wanted to talk to you about. I am not required to collect your body if you answer my question. Are you ready to go?”
Silently laughing to myself, thinking this has to be a joke.
“Death is not a laughing matter.” He responded to my thoughts as if I had said it out loud.
“My answer is no. I’m NOT ready to go.” I said confidently, still trying not to snicker.
“As you wish.” Death said. He had snapped his fingers, and an echo had followed. So many images rushed over me. I had tried to take it all in as my whole life had been put on a silver platter before me. I was in my body again. I could feel, hear and see. The first thing I felt was the warmth of my sisters hand. The monitor had started beeping in a steady rhythm. But I knew this wasn’t the end.
Death had come back the same time next year. I wasn’t in a hospital fending for my life, No. I was at home getting ready for bed. As I lay down, the same motions occurred but this time I could hear. Still no sight or touch. I had already knew what was happening as the darkness devoured me once more. Death was coming. Only this time, I had not left my body. I was no spirit. I was still a mortal. Only numb to everything around me.
“Are you ready?” He asked. I heard his whispers come from directly in front of me. I want to see how far this will go. Will he let me live forever? Will he kill me after so many “No” responses? He left again.
After that, he had come for almost 85 years now asking me the same question. I was only 30 when I was laying in that hospital bed. I was only 30 when he asked me if I wanted to live. I was only 30 when I made that mistake. I am now 115 years old, and I’ve lived my life. I guess I’ll have to wait until next year to finally say, “Yes.”
|
|
[WP] The day you die, Death comes and asks if you are ready to go. Jokingly, you say no. To your surprise, he leaves. Now every year he comes back to ask again
|
I was chilling in my house in my boxers. I was sitting in my easy chair, preparing to watch a marathon of Hammer Horror films. Suddenly a cloud of mist engulfed the room. All the lights dimmed and I felt cold. I was terrified and wondered if this was the end. Then a hooded figure appeared.
“OOOOOOOOHH.” said the figure, waving it’s arms. I couldn’t help it. I burst out laughing. The figure raised its scythe to me.
“Don’t laugh.” said the figure. “I am Death. Your time has come.”
“Nice Halloween costume,” I said.
“It’s not a Halloween costume!” said Death, pulling down his hood to reveal a skeletal face.
“Nice plastic skull mask.” I said.
“It’s not a costume!” Death raised his scythe again and slashed my arm with it.
“Ow! What the fuck!” I yelled. “They let you walk around with that thing?”
“I don’t have time for this.” said Death. “Your time has come. Are you ready to go?”
“Are you really asking me?” I said.
“Of course, there is always a choice.”
“Well then, I’ll have to say no.”
“Ok then.”
“That’s it?”
“That’s it. I’ll return at a later date.”
“Come back anytime.” I said, sinking back into my chair, ready to watch some movies. “Honey, I cut myself!” I yelled to my wife.
​
A year later, I was in the bath. I always hated baths until I got older and enjoyed the affect of a warm bath on my aging body. I was flicking my doodle back and forth, when I felt a sudden chill. The room got dark and misty again.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake!” I yelled. Death had appeared again in front of me.
“Would it kill you to knock?” I asked,
“Hello again.” said Death. “How has this last year of life treated you?”
“Oh, can’t complain. I got laid off and my wife has medical bills.”
“That’s life.” said Death in a bored voice. “It gives you things and takes them away.”
“Well, I’d love to chat longer, but as you can see, this is an inopportune time for me.” I said.
“This will be quick.” said Death. “I have come to ask you again if you are ready to depart this world.”
“No.” I said. “Not quite ready yet.”
“Very well,” said Death. “Have a nice day.”
Death faded into the darkness, and the mist dissipated from the room. Someone was knocking on the bathroom door. It was my wife.
“Are you talking to someone in there?”
​
Another year passed. I was sitting on a chair on my back porch, a beer in my hand. Suddenly the familiar mist appeared again. I groaned in annoyance. Death was there, standing on my back porch.
“Hello again.” said Death.
“Death,” I said, nodding my head but not looking at him.
We stood for a while admiring the view of my backyard.
“Another year gone by.” said Death.
“The world keeps turning even when mine doesn’t.” I said.
“Yes, I came to visit your wife a few months ago.” said Death. “She left with me right away, unlike you. Wouldn’t you like to be with her?”
“Nope, not ready to die.” I said curtly.
“What is there for you here without your wife?” asked Death. “You don’t seem to be leading a very fulfilling life anymore.”
“I’m just… I’m afraid of what happens next.”
“It’s very painless, I assure you.”
“You said I always had a choice.”
“You do.”
“Then I’m not ready yet.” I said firmly.
“Very well. Until our next meeting.” Death had his usual exit, and I was left alone with my thoughts.
​
Twenty years went by. Death came to visit me for the first 8, as usual, but eventually even he gave up trying to convince me. I kept to a usual routine each day, but life had taken its toll. My eyesight was nearly gone and my hands were withered and arthritic. I was sitting on the porch drinking a beer when Death showed again.
“Hello old friend.”
“Death,” I said. “It’s been a while. Thought’d you given up on me.”
“I never give up on anyone.”
“How have you been these last few years?” I asked.
“You know, no one has ever asked about me.” said Death.
“It’s your getup.” I said. “You could wear more welcoming attire.”
“People are scared of death,” he said. “I don’t know why. No one is scared of being born.”
“No one remembers their birth,” I said.
“It is so confusing, being born. You’re wet and cold, and not yet ready for this big world.”
“Death is scarier,” I said.
“You know, most people your age are ready to accept death.”
“I don’t know why.”
“What are you living for?” said Death. “Your wife wouldn’t have wanted you to live your last years like this. If you’re not ready to die, but you don’t want to live, what do you want?”
“You’re right,” I said, contemplating. We sat in more silence until Death was ready to leave again.
“I’ve got a lot more appointments today. If you’re not ready to come, I will just say, until our next meeting.”
Death left again. That night, I called up some of my old buddies I hadn’t talked to in years. Most of them had passed on by this point, but I made plans to meet with two surviving friends.
​
Three more years passed. I was sitting in an easy chair in a neighbors house. Death came again for the last time.
“Hello Death.” I said, opening my eyes.
“Thought I’d try again. I heard from Alan before he died.”
“Alan was a good friend and he had an amazing family.” I said.
“He seemed glad you chose to reconnect with him again.”
“It felt good to be back in the world for a while.” I said. “I’ve been talking to some high schoolers. Listening to their stories and telling them all about my past. It’s been great reliving it all. I had a fulfilling life.”
“That’s nice to hear.” said Death. “So are you finally ready?”
“Yes, I do believe it’s time.” I said, slowing rising from my chair and offering a handshake to Death. “And I really have to thank you for all your help.”
I looked back at the chair and saw my body still sitting there, limp. “Would you look at that.” I said. I turned and walked with Death and vanished into the mist.
|
“Is she going to be okay?” My sister asks the doctor. The voices start to muffle and burgeon further away from me; My body suddenly grows cold and numb. It’s already as if I’ve ascended from this world. The surrounding parts of me are no longer recognizable. I can’t hear, I can’t see. I can’t move.
Nothing.
“It’s flatlined.” She’s...”
The heart the used to beat has come to an end. I no longer exist. The blackness consumes me...
I couldn’t believe that I was looking back at myself, only this time I wasn’t moving. I saw my sister resting her hand on mine, and my brother weeping softly in the corner. My senses have come back and a shudder rushes over my spirit. A cold, hard tap follows behind it. I looked to the right of the hospital room to see a tall figure. About 8 feet in size; lengthy and dark. His clothes consisted of nothing but a hooded cloak that touched the tips of the floor perfectly, with rips and holes covering the majority of the surface. I could say that my heart was beating out of my chest, but I’d be lying. I tried to find a face in the darkness of the cloak but no luck.
What seems like a thousand whispers all comes flooding into me. “Hello. My name is Death, and I have been watching you for some time now, as you’ve been laying in this bed. I have come to take you but first I have a few inquiries.”
“So why didn’t you just kill me. You watched me suffer.”
“That’s what I wanted to talk to you about. I am not required to collect your body if you answer my question. Are you ready to go?”
Silently laughing to myself, thinking this has to be a joke.
“Death is not a laughing matter.” He responded to my thoughts as if I had said it out loud.
“My answer is no. I’m NOT ready to go.” I said confidently, still trying not to snicker.
“As you wish.” Death said. He had snapped his fingers, and an echo had followed. So many images rushed over me. I had tried to take it all in as my whole life had been put on a silver platter before me. I was in my body again. I could feel, hear and see. The first thing I felt was the warmth of my sisters hand. The monitor had started beeping in a steady rhythm. But I knew this wasn’t the end.
Death had come back the same time next year. I wasn’t in a hospital fending for my life, No. I was at home getting ready for bed. As I lay down, the same motions occurred but this time I could hear. Still no sight or touch. I had already knew what was happening as the darkness devoured me once more. Death was coming. Only this time, I had not left my body. I was no spirit. I was still a mortal. Only numb to everything around me.
“Are you ready?” He asked. I heard his whispers come from directly in front of me. I want to see how far this will go. Will he let me live forever? Will he kill me after so many “No” responses? He left again.
After that, he had come for almost 85 years now asking me the same question. I was only 30 when I was laying in that hospital bed. I was only 30 when he asked me if I wanted to live. I was only 30 when I made that mistake. I am now 115 years old, and I’ve lived my life. I guess I’ll have to wait until next year to finally say, “Yes.”
|
|
[WP] The day you die, Death comes and asks if you are ready to go. Jokingly, you say no. To your surprise, he leaves. Now every year he comes back to ask again
|
"Am I going to see her when I go with you?"
"Alexander, every year we go through this - once I hand them off, I don't know what happens. No one's ever come back once I've taken them so I have no idea."
Its an odd conversation to be having on a subway train at 3 AM, but every year they show up in some different costume - the year it was the little girl was particularly disconcerting. Death seems to favor appearances that allow them to walk among the people without notice. This year they seem to have decided on the woman on her way from one job to another - green polo shirt, black dress pants, comfortable shoes. Though you'd guess she'd be speaking with a thick Hindi accent, the voice that comes out of her slight frame rolls like distant thunder, deep and sonorous, speaking with an accent you've never heard from any other living person.
The man sitting near the woman looks out the window, not at the woman. His long hair graying and pulled back into a ponytail. He carries an attache bag, looking like a high school teacher or overburdened social workers.
"Then I'm sorry that you wasted your time coming out here tonight. I'm not ready and I'm not going to be ready until I know I'll see her again." the man called Alexander said, his voice steady
"Its not a waste of time." the woman who was Death replied, her eyes not moving from the man. They sat for a minute in silence, the only sound the wheels of the train on the tracks clattering away. "Can I ask you a question?" the deep voice Death asks, a note of trepidation in their deep tones.
Alexander seems to tense before biting off a response, icy and short "This is your meeting, isn't it? October 6th, same as every year."
Death either didn't notice the effort expended by the gray haired man or didn't care. "If you loved her so much, why are you still here? Every year we meet and every year you say you won't go until you know you can see her. But you know that won't happen while you're alive. She went through to the other side, she's...wherever she's supposed to be." and the woman looked with what could be concern at the man "You'd be surprised how close of tabs I keep on you Alexander. No children, no siblings, couple of cats, same route to and from same dead end job every day. What do you stay here for?"
The only sound is the clattering of the train down the tracks. The man looks out the window, not saying anything. This silence stretches out as the train slows down, pulling into the next station "I suppose I'll see you next year." He says sadly to an empty car before reaching into his bag and pulling out a book. Pressed between two of the pages is a photo; the man, with darker hair and less of a paunch, a woman with chestnut hair, thick black framed glasses and smiling eyes each hold a kitten. The man's is ginger and looks perturbed, the woman's is black and white and it looks like it's trying to bat at a lock of her hair that's fallen over her face.
|
“Is she going to be okay?” My sister asks the doctor. The voices start to muffle and burgeon further away from me; My body suddenly grows cold and numb. It’s already as if I’ve ascended from this world. The surrounding parts of me are no longer recognizable. I can’t hear, I can’t see. I can’t move.
Nothing.
“It’s flatlined.” She’s...”
The heart the used to beat has come to an end. I no longer exist. The blackness consumes me...
I couldn’t believe that I was looking back at myself, only this time I wasn’t moving. I saw my sister resting her hand on mine, and my brother weeping softly in the corner. My senses have come back and a shudder rushes over my spirit. A cold, hard tap follows behind it. I looked to the right of the hospital room to see a tall figure. About 8 feet in size; lengthy and dark. His clothes consisted of nothing but a hooded cloak that touched the tips of the floor perfectly, with rips and holes covering the majority of the surface. I could say that my heart was beating out of my chest, but I’d be lying. I tried to find a face in the darkness of the cloak but no luck.
What seems like a thousand whispers all comes flooding into me. “Hello. My name is Death, and I have been watching you for some time now, as you’ve been laying in this bed. I have come to take you but first I have a few inquiries.”
“So why didn’t you just kill me. You watched me suffer.”
“That’s what I wanted to talk to you about. I am not required to collect your body if you answer my question. Are you ready to go?”
Silently laughing to myself, thinking this has to be a joke.
“Death is not a laughing matter.” He responded to my thoughts as if I had said it out loud.
“My answer is no. I’m NOT ready to go.” I said confidently, still trying not to snicker.
“As you wish.” Death said. He had snapped his fingers, and an echo had followed. So many images rushed over me. I had tried to take it all in as my whole life had been put on a silver platter before me. I was in my body again. I could feel, hear and see. The first thing I felt was the warmth of my sisters hand. The monitor had started beeping in a steady rhythm. But I knew this wasn’t the end.
Death had come back the same time next year. I wasn’t in a hospital fending for my life, No. I was at home getting ready for bed. As I lay down, the same motions occurred but this time I could hear. Still no sight or touch. I had already knew what was happening as the darkness devoured me once more. Death was coming. Only this time, I had not left my body. I was no spirit. I was still a mortal. Only numb to everything around me.
“Are you ready?” He asked. I heard his whispers come from directly in front of me. I want to see how far this will go. Will he let me live forever? Will he kill me after so many “No” responses? He left again.
After that, he had come for almost 85 years now asking me the same question. I was only 30 when I was laying in that hospital bed. I was only 30 when he asked me if I wanted to live. I was only 30 when I made that mistake. I am now 115 years old, and I’ve lived my life. I guess I’ll have to wait until next year to finally say, “Yes.”
|
|
[WP] The day you die, Death comes and asks if you are ready to go. Jokingly, you say no. To your surprise, he leaves. Now every year he comes back to ask again
|
It was raining, hard, that October day, and the wind was rocking the boat in her slip. I forgot my lifejacket, and my parents were too busy getting the boat ready for the end of the season.
I wanted to go and play in the park near the marina, so I leapt the gap between boat and dock. Got there okay, but the wood was so slippery.
I fell. It was cold beyond cold. I could swim, but this was completely different.
A soft voice in my ear, my late great-grandmother’s, asked, “Are you ready to go?”
“No! I’m only six!” I yelled in childish frustration.
“Okay, dear.” I woke up coughing up lake water and colder than I had ever been in my life.
The next year, I climbed too high in the old spruce tree with my brother. There was a yell and a crack. It was all so fast.
“Are you ready to go?” It was the old lady from the sweet shop in the town where my family vacationed. She always used to give me the broken candies.
“No. I’m only seven,” I said, more calmly, having learned from last year.
“Okay, honey.”
I woke up on the needle-strewn forest floor, head aching, ears ringing with my brother’s screams.
When I was eight, it happened very suddenly. I was just walking in the woods, and heard the voice, a young man’s. I had heard it before on the news. Columbine.
“Ready to go, kiddo?”
“No. I’m still a kid. But what-?”
*BANG* I instinctively ducked. Then a blaze of orange in the trees, and a bullet in the pine just behind me. “Oh God. I thought you were a deer.”
The next year, it was all of us. The infamous gales of November seemed to have come up suddenly on that beautiful Indian-summer Lake Superior day. The boat was built for racing, for speed. An odd choice for a family craft, but my dad had gotten her cheap. The wind howled, waves tossed her around like a bath toy, and my mom was so scared she actually held me. She’s stopped doing that when I was three.
I saw a dim image of the ancient black dog my family had recently lost. She couldn’t speak but the message was clear.
“You all ready to go?”
“No!” I shouted into the wind. “We can make it!”
My dad told the story of our adventure for years to come. He always says it’s an adventure as long as you survive!
It was a perfect day on remote Isle Royale when I next heard the voice, unknown but smelling of wet canvas and something deep and metallic. My senses went on high alert, waiting for the threat.
“Ready to go?”
“No! I just hit double digits.”
“Then you’d better get out of the way!” I scrambled up the nearest tree, my foot nearly touching the back of an enormous moose- a cow, I thought hysterically, no antlers- as she crashed across the path.
It came on slowly the next year. My mom was running a student exchange in Germany and took me with. I loved it, at first, but developed such a severe foreign virus that I couldn’t even keep water down. As I lay miserably in my bed under the eaves, I saw a feverish image of a gaunt man in grey rags and a number on his arm.
“Are you ready to go, *schatz*?” he asked
I coughed, forced down bile, licked my sandpaper dry lips, and said what I always had. No. Well, *nein*. He had asked in German.
The next year, it was the cat. I had started down the steep basement stairs to feed his surviving sister, and slipped. In the few seconds of my fall, his calm brown eyes looked into mine, and asked, *Are you ready to go?* without words.
I shook my head, and woke up with a concussion on the bottom step.
Life was harder the next year. I was often bullied and iced out, alone everywhere. Nothing was fun any more. I didn’t know what to do. Still, I nearly screamed when I heard my own voice in my ear.
“Ready to go, you piece of shit?” she snarled.
“N-no,” I stammered. “I’m sure high school will be better.”
She asked me twice more, and I always said no, though it grew harder. I began harming myself just to get through the day.
Then when I was sixteen, I had the accident. I went too deep. I couldn’t seem to stop the bleeding. As I frantically pressed a towel to my leg, and grew weaker, she- I?- asked almost kindly.
“It’s so hard. Ready to go?”
“Ye-no” I changed my mind. When I was fourteen, I had finally made a friend. She was closer than my own brother. I couldn’t hurt her, and even though it was a long way yet, I could see hope when I went to college.
“Have it your way, then. Honestly, I admire your determination.” And she-I?- opened her mouth and began to scream and scream, until my friend burst into the bathroom.
Life grew better that next year. I began the process of facing my pain, and hoped that I wouldn’t hear death any longer now that I was better. I was wrong. The night of the seventh Harry Potter book release at midnight, I was walking home from the bookstore, trying to read by the moonlight and streetlights as I want.
“Are you ready to go, sweetheart? Let me give you another fiver.” It was my paternal grandfather. He always shook my hand and gave me some money whenever I said goodbye after a visit. He held out his hand.
“No, sorry, Grandpa. Things are finally looking up for me. I miss you though.”
“All right, then.”
A truck blared past me on the nearly empty road, so close it tore my light jacket off. Shaking, I put the book under my arm. No more reading and walking for me.
(I could go up to my current age, 28, let me know if you want more!)
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It was 03:00 on a cold, wet night when my car skidded off the road, rolled 5 or 6 times, finally coming to a stop against a tree. My breathing became fast and shallow, I could feel the blood draining from me. I closed my eyes for one last time, gave my last long breath and my soul parted from my body. I stood there, looking at the wreck of a car and middle aged man, fluids mixing together in a puddle. Then, he appeared, a cloaked figure, but I didn't have any fear, he didn't make me feel scared, or want to run away, I felt calm, almost relaxed. We stood there for another few hours, silently watching the police and others work out what happened. Once the work had been done, my body recovered, the scene taped off and waiting for the morning to shed enough light to recover the car, he turned to me and said "so, are you ready to leave this relm, to go on to your eternal resting place?". I looked to him, searching for what to say, "do I have a choice, my bodys gone, what else can I do?" he sighed, obviously this wasn't the first time someone had asked that. "if you say no then I leave your soul to wander the earth, returning on the anniversary of your death, to ask again. Where do you think ghosts come from?". I stood there, silently weighing my options, "no, I'll stay" I said with a chuckle, "fine" he said, then vanished.
It took me a while to figure things out, like how to interact with things in the real world, turning lights on and off, moving stuff, how to focus my thoughts to move my soul over distances, because there's no buses for ghosts. After a couple of weeks I made it home. It was strange going through my front door, without opening it. I saw my wife on the floor, cuddling my daughter. It looked like she'd been there a while. They both looked cold. I looked around and saw the old blanket I'd use for doing 'dad' things, like when we cuddled up to watch a movie on a rainy Sunday, or build a tent in the living room, or wrap my daughter in when she wasn't feeling well, she always complained that it smelled of engine oil and my aftershave, no matter how many times we washed it. I concentrated, focusing my energy, I felt like I was trying to move a car, but finally I pushed it enough to fall on their shoulders, my wife disturbed from her sleep just enough to wrap them both up in it. Then I went upstairs, and spent another 30 minutes trying to turn the heating on, after that I felt exhausted, so I went back downstairs, took my normal spot on the sofa and went to sleep looking at my broken family.
I continued working on my ability to do things, I used them to help when I could. Turning lights off when my wife had forgotten because she was too tiered, moving what she was looking for to somewhere she would find it, I got quite good as the year went on, even to tuck my little girl into bed and turning her night light back on one night to try and let my wife sleep.
Over time, my family was healing, it was slow, but they were getting through it. My daughter had been noticing some of the things I'd do, and had even tried talking to me a few times, but no one listened to her when she said 'daddy helped'
Time went by and soon enough it was the anniversary of my death. He came to me again at 03:00, the time I had taken my last breath. He stood next to me as I watched my family sleep, "are you ready yet" he asked, I shook my head slowly, "no" I replied, "I've got too much to do yet". Death turned to me then, he lowered his hood, exposing his bare skull, "the longer you stay here, the harder it is to pass over when you decide to, after a few years it's nearly impossible, you'll be stuck between the worlds" he said, his tone a mix of pleading and warning. "I don't care" I said, staring where his eyes should be, "I let my girls down before, I can't do it again. If spending eternity trapped like this is the price to see them, to watch my daughter grow up and try to help, then I will gladly pay". "fine" he said, "see you next year" and once again, he vanished, leaving me to watch my family.
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[WP] The day you die, Death comes and asks if you are ready to go. Jokingly, you say no. To your surprise, he leaves. Now every year he comes back to ask again
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I was chilling in my house in my boxers. I was sitting in my easy chair, preparing to watch a marathon of Hammer Horror films. Suddenly a cloud of mist engulfed the room. All the lights dimmed and I felt cold. I was terrified and wondered if this was the end. Then a hooded figure appeared.
“OOOOOOOOHH.” said the figure, waving it’s arms. I couldn’t help it. I burst out laughing. The figure raised its scythe to me.
“Don’t laugh.” said the figure. “I am Death. Your time has come.”
“Nice Halloween costume,” I said.
“It’s not a Halloween costume!” said Death, pulling down his hood to reveal a skeletal face.
“Nice plastic skull mask.” I said.
“It’s not a costume!” Death raised his scythe again and slashed my arm with it.
“Ow! What the fuck!” I yelled. “They let you walk around with that thing?”
“I don’t have time for this.” said Death. “Your time has come. Are you ready to go?”
“Are you really asking me?” I said.
“Of course, there is always a choice.”
“Well then, I’ll have to say no.”
“Ok then.”
“That’s it?”
“That’s it. I’ll return at a later date.”
“Come back anytime.” I said, sinking back into my chair, ready to watch some movies. “Honey, I cut myself!” I yelled to my wife.
​
A year later, I was in the bath. I always hated baths until I got older and enjoyed the affect of a warm bath on my aging body. I was flicking my doodle back and forth, when I felt a sudden chill. The room got dark and misty again.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake!” I yelled. Death had appeared again in front of me.
“Would it kill you to knock?” I asked,
“Hello again.” said Death. “How has this last year of life treated you?”
“Oh, can’t complain. I got laid off and my wife has medical bills.”
“That’s life.” said Death in a bored voice. “It gives you things and takes them away.”
“Well, I’d love to chat longer, but as you can see, this is an inopportune time for me.” I said.
“This will be quick.” said Death. “I have come to ask you again if you are ready to depart this world.”
“No.” I said. “Not quite ready yet.”
“Very well,” said Death. “Have a nice day.”
Death faded into the darkness, and the mist dissipated from the room. Someone was knocking on the bathroom door. It was my wife.
“Are you talking to someone in there?”
​
Another year passed. I was sitting on a chair on my back porch, a beer in my hand. Suddenly the familiar mist appeared again. I groaned in annoyance. Death was there, standing on my back porch.
“Hello again.” said Death.
“Death,” I said, nodding my head but not looking at him.
We stood for a while admiring the view of my backyard.
“Another year gone by.” said Death.
“The world keeps turning even when mine doesn’t.” I said.
“Yes, I came to visit your wife a few months ago.” said Death. “She left with me right away, unlike you. Wouldn’t you like to be with her?”
“Nope, not ready to die.” I said curtly.
“What is there for you here without your wife?” asked Death. “You don’t seem to be leading a very fulfilling life anymore.”
“I’m just… I’m afraid of what happens next.”
“It’s very painless, I assure you.”
“You said I always had a choice.”
“You do.”
“Then I’m not ready yet.” I said firmly.
“Very well. Until our next meeting.” Death had his usual exit, and I was left alone with my thoughts.
​
Twenty years went by. Death came to visit me for the first 8, as usual, but eventually even he gave up trying to convince me. I kept to a usual routine each day, but life had taken its toll. My eyesight was nearly gone and my hands were withered and arthritic. I was sitting on the porch drinking a beer when Death showed again.
“Hello old friend.”
“Death,” I said. “It’s been a while. Thought’d you given up on me.”
“I never give up on anyone.”
“How have you been these last few years?” I asked.
“You know, no one has ever asked about me.” said Death.
“It’s your getup.” I said. “You could wear more welcoming attire.”
“People are scared of death,” he said. “I don’t know why. No one is scared of being born.”
“No one remembers their birth,” I said.
“It is so confusing, being born. You’re wet and cold, and not yet ready for this big world.”
“Death is scarier,” I said.
“You know, most people your age are ready to accept death.”
“I don’t know why.”
“What are you living for?” said Death. “Your wife wouldn’t have wanted you to live your last years like this. If you’re not ready to die, but you don’t want to live, what do you want?”
“You’re right,” I said, contemplating. We sat in more silence until Death was ready to leave again.
“I’ve got a lot more appointments today. If you’re not ready to come, I will just say, until our next meeting.”
Death left again. That night, I called up some of my old buddies I hadn’t talked to in years. Most of them had passed on by this point, but I made plans to meet with two surviving friends.
​
Three more years passed. I was sitting in an easy chair in a neighbors house. Death came again for the last time.
“Hello Death.” I said, opening my eyes.
“Thought I’d try again. I heard from Alan before he died.”
“Alan was a good friend and he had an amazing family.” I said.
“He seemed glad you chose to reconnect with him again.”
“It felt good to be back in the world for a while.” I said. “I’ve been talking to some high schoolers. Listening to their stories and telling them all about my past. It’s been great reliving it all. I had a fulfilling life.”
“That’s nice to hear.” said Death. “So are you finally ready?”
“Yes, I do believe it’s time.” I said, slowing rising from my chair and offering a handshake to Death. “And I really have to thank you for all your help.”
I looked back at the chair and saw my body still sitting there, limp. “Would you look at that.” I said. I turned and walked with Death and vanished into the mist.
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It was 03:00 on a cold, wet night when my car skidded off the road, rolled 5 or 6 times, finally coming to a stop against a tree. My breathing became fast and shallow, I could feel the blood draining from me. I closed my eyes for one last time, gave my last long breath and my soul parted from my body. I stood there, looking at the wreck of a car and middle aged man, fluids mixing together in a puddle. Then, he appeared, a cloaked figure, but I didn't have any fear, he didn't make me feel scared, or want to run away, I felt calm, almost relaxed. We stood there for another few hours, silently watching the police and others work out what happened. Once the work had been done, my body recovered, the scene taped off and waiting for the morning to shed enough light to recover the car, he turned to me and said "so, are you ready to leave this relm, to go on to your eternal resting place?". I looked to him, searching for what to say, "do I have a choice, my bodys gone, what else can I do?" he sighed, obviously this wasn't the first time someone had asked that. "if you say no then I leave your soul to wander the earth, returning on the anniversary of your death, to ask again. Where do you think ghosts come from?". I stood there, silently weighing my options, "no, I'll stay" I said with a chuckle, "fine" he said, then vanished.
It took me a while to figure things out, like how to interact with things in the real world, turning lights on and off, moving stuff, how to focus my thoughts to move my soul over distances, because there's no buses for ghosts. After a couple of weeks I made it home. It was strange going through my front door, without opening it. I saw my wife on the floor, cuddling my daughter. It looked like she'd been there a while. They both looked cold. I looked around and saw the old blanket I'd use for doing 'dad' things, like when we cuddled up to watch a movie on a rainy Sunday, or build a tent in the living room, or wrap my daughter in when she wasn't feeling well, she always complained that it smelled of engine oil and my aftershave, no matter how many times we washed it. I concentrated, focusing my energy, I felt like I was trying to move a car, but finally I pushed it enough to fall on their shoulders, my wife disturbed from her sleep just enough to wrap them both up in it. Then I went upstairs, and spent another 30 minutes trying to turn the heating on, after that I felt exhausted, so I went back downstairs, took my normal spot on the sofa and went to sleep looking at my broken family.
I continued working on my ability to do things, I used them to help when I could. Turning lights off when my wife had forgotten because she was too tiered, moving what she was looking for to somewhere she would find it, I got quite good as the year went on, even to tuck my little girl into bed and turning her night light back on one night to try and let my wife sleep.
Over time, my family was healing, it was slow, but they were getting through it. My daughter had been noticing some of the things I'd do, and had even tried talking to me a few times, but no one listened to her when she said 'daddy helped'
Time went by and soon enough it was the anniversary of my death. He came to me again at 03:00, the time I had taken my last breath. He stood next to me as I watched my family sleep, "are you ready yet" he asked, I shook my head slowly, "no" I replied, "I've got too much to do yet". Death turned to me then, he lowered his hood, exposing his bare skull, "the longer you stay here, the harder it is to pass over when you decide to, after a few years it's nearly impossible, you'll be stuck between the worlds" he said, his tone a mix of pleading and warning. "I don't care" I said, staring where his eyes should be, "I let my girls down before, I can't do it again. If spending eternity trapped like this is the price to see them, to watch my daughter grow up and try to help, then I will gladly pay". "fine" he said, "see you next year" and once again, he vanished, leaving me to watch my family.
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[WP] The day you die, Death comes and asks if you are ready to go. Jokingly, you say no. To your surprise, he leaves. Now every year he comes back to ask again
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It was all because of pizza.
I had been focused all day on having dinner at the gourmet pizza place my friends and I were currently obsessed with. Our first meal there had been a revelation for me. My god, pizza can taste like this? We were there every Thursday night since it opened, convinced that this could never last.
Driving there, late from work, I'd been on the phone to my friend Nigel debating whether to order the mushrooms and anchovies. *"That does look amazing but those garlic prawns! It's redefined eating for me!"*
My last words.
I obviously wasn't paying attention to the road and the next thing I know I'm upside down and there's liquid everywhere. Some of it was petrol, some of it was blood.
It was all bad.
So I'm hanging there and someone is leaning in the upside down window, offering me a hand. The hand was see-through and seemed made of light but it was dark. It didn't make sense. And then a voice said *"It is your time."*
I was strangely serene. I was aware of bits of me being broken but it didn't matter. I was peaceful - more peaceful than I had ever felt before. I was happy to go with my new friend.
But then a vision of garlic prawns on a thin-crust base appeared and I groaned *"No!"*
*"No?"* the voice was serene but puzzled. *"Really?"*
*"Just one more pizza!"* I whispered.
*"So be it."*
And then I was in hospital and the doctor was telling someone that it was a miracle I was alive.
I dismissed the whole thing as a dream. The next year I was on a rock climbing holiday in Morocco and found myself trying to impress a cute Norwegian backpacker. I reached out and discovered I had overestimated my ability AND that my rope wasn't as secure as it should have been.
Next thing I know I'm lying on the ground and there's a tall dark figure made of light reaching out a hand for me.
*"It is time."*
There was that feeling of inevitability but I seemed to remember this happening before. Then I remembered the pizza incident and said *"Haven't we done this before?"*
*"Yes. It really is time now though. Come"*
*"What if i say no?"*
There was a pause. The dark figure was silent for a moment and then the voice spoke again: *"I can't take you if you say no. But you really should consider the..."*
I blurted out *"No!"* like a child who discovers a new word and wants to play with it. Cheating death is this easy? I could still have a chance with that Norwegian backpacker!
The dark figure had a beseeching quality in that ethereal voice. *"Can I just explain..."*
But then the ambulance was there and I woke up in hospital and it was another miracle. The Norwegian backpacker was suitably impressed and I had discovered the cheat code for life itself!
I quit my job, bought a funky camera and started posting extreme climbing and base-jumping videos. I became a viral sensation, the man who knew no fear! And then one day I jumped off a ledge at the same time as a mountain goat and **BAM!** There I was again, all messed up and that dark figure was there, telling me this time it really was time.
I was cocky by now. *"You sure about that?"*
That etheral voice was a bit louder now: *"YES! You don't know..."*
*"No! I don't want to go. I want to do Extreme pogo-stick Mountaineering! I haven't lived yet!"*
*"Please, will you just..."*
*"NO!"*
And then I was at the bottom of a mountain, my body all messed up. But I was looking at my body. And I looked dead. Really dead. My extreme buddies were gathered around me and one of them was saying *"he would have wanted to go out like this."*
*"Bullshit I would!"* I tried to shout, but I had no lungs. I was made of light. *"What's going on?"*
*"I tried to tell you."* I turned around and there was the dark figure.
*"Tried to tell me what?"*
*"You can't just keep saying 'no' and have a body to go back to."* The figure gestured to me and then began moving away. I followed, trying to stay calm.
*"So... am I dead then?"*
*"No. You had three chances to die. But you said no to all of them, so you're a spirit now."* There was an edge of annoyance in the voice: *"A disembodied spirit trapped in the form realm."*
*"OK."* I said, trying to focus on what I was being told. I was still upset over all the Extreme pogo-stick Mountaineering adventures I would never experience. C'mon, I told myself, focus! *"So what do I do now?"*
*"Well, you can hang around the living. Most who do that go mad with jealousy very quickly. Occasionally you'll be able to scare someone by impersonating a ghost but that gets old real quick. Eventually you will do what has to be done to leave here and go to the formless realm, the place you are bound for. Otherwise you will be here for eternity, watching the sun die and the stars fade and the planet itself crumble and..."*
*"OK! I hear you! So, what do I have to do?"*
A long arm stretched and a finger made of light that was dark pointed. I peered in that direction and saw a mountain. A huge mountain. *"Wow, I'd like to pogo-stick down that!"*
*"It doesn't exist in the form realm,"* said the voice, annoyed. Then it carried on calmly: *"It is the only gateway point out of here into the formless realm. If you climb to the top and wait, you will be met by the One who can transport you across the veil into that which words cannot..."*
*"Gotcha!"* I was relieved. I'd been afraid of some huge ordeal, but climb a mountain? *"Not a problem. Just get to the top and wait yeah?"*
*"Yes. The One comes when the veil is thin and..."*
*"I hear you good buddy! I can climb a mountain, no sweat."* I laughed at my own comment. *"Ha! Of course there's no sweat, I don't have a body!"* My dark-light companion said nothing, just kept moving, closer to the Mountain.
It was **huge**. Bigger than Everest. Bigger than the Himalyas. As we walked I saw other dark figures escorting spirits. I pointed to them and asked my dark figure *"Did they say 'no' too?"*
*"Yes,"* and there was a disdainful edge to the voice. *"You are not the first to say 'no' three times to Death."*
I nodded. It figured a few others would be as clever as I was. I told myself to start reframing this as an adventure. My last mountain climb and then onto the great beyond! Woo-hoo! And I'd have some climbing companions too. I waved at another spirit and they tentatively waved back. We'd have plenty of time to connect and bond; it would be a long climb up.
*"I wish I had a ghost video camera, that thing is huge! This is going to be epic!"* The mountain grew bigger with every step. And it grew stranger too. Quite weird in fact. *"Is the mountain... moving?"* I asked. The surface seemed to be writhing.
*"No."*
I looked for a good long while and then my gaze travelled down to the base of the mountain. There I suddenly realised what the movement was.
The mountain and the land all around it were covered in spirits. Like ants on a tree stump they were climbing all over the mountain, completely covering it in a carpet of limbs and bodies. Spirits climbing up every surface, some falling off, some fighting each other, all trying to get to the top. At the very top I could just see a single figure reach the apex and reach out for something above them. And then suddenly they were falling, falling, falling for what seemed a very long time.
My companion was right. I wasn't the first to say 'no' to Death.
*"Ah,"* I said, trying to take it all in, *"is there another mountain?"*
*"No."* Around me more spirits were arriving, and looking for a long time. And then slowly walking into the writhing mass of spirits that had fallen and were getting up to start climbing the mountain again.
The dark figure had a different tone of voice now. Slightly amused. *"We call this the Mountain of Regret. I believe you humans call it hell."* And then he was gone. Leaving me alone, staring at a mountain as big as a planet, covered in spirits all fighting to get to the top.
And all because of Pizza.
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It was 03:00 on a cold, wet night when my car skidded off the road, rolled 5 or 6 times, finally coming to a stop against a tree. My breathing became fast and shallow, I could feel the blood draining from me. I closed my eyes for one last time, gave my last long breath and my soul parted from my body. I stood there, looking at the wreck of a car and middle aged man, fluids mixing together in a puddle. Then, he appeared, a cloaked figure, but I didn't have any fear, he didn't make me feel scared, or want to run away, I felt calm, almost relaxed. We stood there for another few hours, silently watching the police and others work out what happened. Once the work had been done, my body recovered, the scene taped off and waiting for the morning to shed enough light to recover the car, he turned to me and said "so, are you ready to leave this relm, to go on to your eternal resting place?". I looked to him, searching for what to say, "do I have a choice, my bodys gone, what else can I do?" he sighed, obviously this wasn't the first time someone had asked that. "if you say no then I leave your soul to wander the earth, returning on the anniversary of your death, to ask again. Where do you think ghosts come from?". I stood there, silently weighing my options, "no, I'll stay" I said with a chuckle, "fine" he said, then vanished.
It took me a while to figure things out, like how to interact with things in the real world, turning lights on and off, moving stuff, how to focus my thoughts to move my soul over distances, because there's no buses for ghosts. After a couple of weeks I made it home. It was strange going through my front door, without opening it. I saw my wife on the floor, cuddling my daughter. It looked like she'd been there a while. They both looked cold. I looked around and saw the old blanket I'd use for doing 'dad' things, like when we cuddled up to watch a movie on a rainy Sunday, or build a tent in the living room, or wrap my daughter in when she wasn't feeling well, she always complained that it smelled of engine oil and my aftershave, no matter how many times we washed it. I concentrated, focusing my energy, I felt like I was trying to move a car, but finally I pushed it enough to fall on their shoulders, my wife disturbed from her sleep just enough to wrap them both up in it. Then I went upstairs, and spent another 30 minutes trying to turn the heating on, after that I felt exhausted, so I went back downstairs, took my normal spot on the sofa and went to sleep looking at my broken family.
I continued working on my ability to do things, I used them to help when I could. Turning lights off when my wife had forgotten because she was too tiered, moving what she was looking for to somewhere she would find it, I got quite good as the year went on, even to tuck my little girl into bed and turning her night light back on one night to try and let my wife sleep.
Over time, my family was healing, it was slow, but they were getting through it. My daughter had been noticing some of the things I'd do, and had even tried talking to me a few times, but no one listened to her when she said 'daddy helped'
Time went by and soon enough it was the anniversary of my death. He came to me again at 03:00, the time I had taken my last breath. He stood next to me as I watched my family sleep, "are you ready yet" he asked, I shook my head slowly, "no" I replied, "I've got too much to do yet". Death turned to me then, he lowered his hood, exposing his bare skull, "the longer you stay here, the harder it is to pass over when you decide to, after a few years it's nearly impossible, you'll be stuck between the worlds" he said, his tone a mix of pleading and warning. "I don't care" I said, staring where his eyes should be, "I let my girls down before, I can't do it again. If spending eternity trapped like this is the price to see them, to watch my daughter grow up and try to help, then I will gladly pay". "fine" he said, "see you next year" and once again, he vanished, leaving me to watch my family.
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[WP] The day you die, Death comes and asks if you are ready to go. Jokingly, you say no. To your surprise, he leaves. Now every year he comes back to ask again
|
"Am I going to see her when I go with you?"
"Alexander, every year we go through this - once I hand them off, I don't know what happens. No one's ever come back once I've taken them so I have no idea."
Its an odd conversation to be having on a subway train at 3 AM, but every year they show up in some different costume - the year it was the little girl was particularly disconcerting. Death seems to favor appearances that allow them to walk among the people without notice. This year they seem to have decided on the woman on her way from one job to another - green polo shirt, black dress pants, comfortable shoes. Though you'd guess she'd be speaking with a thick Hindi accent, the voice that comes out of her slight frame rolls like distant thunder, deep and sonorous, speaking with an accent you've never heard from any other living person.
The man sitting near the woman looks out the window, not at the woman. His long hair graying and pulled back into a ponytail. He carries an attache bag, looking like a high school teacher or overburdened social workers.
"Then I'm sorry that you wasted your time coming out here tonight. I'm not ready and I'm not going to be ready until I know I'll see her again." the man called Alexander said, his voice steady
"Its not a waste of time." the woman who was Death replied, her eyes not moving from the man. They sat for a minute in silence, the only sound the wheels of the train on the tracks clattering away. "Can I ask you a question?" the deep voice Death asks, a note of trepidation in their deep tones.
Alexander seems to tense before biting off a response, icy and short "This is your meeting, isn't it? October 6th, same as every year."
Death either didn't notice the effort expended by the gray haired man or didn't care. "If you loved her so much, why are you still here? Every year we meet and every year you say you won't go until you know you can see her. But you know that won't happen while you're alive. She went through to the other side, she's...wherever she's supposed to be." and the woman looked with what could be concern at the man "You'd be surprised how close of tabs I keep on you Alexander. No children, no siblings, couple of cats, same route to and from same dead end job every day. What do you stay here for?"
The only sound is the clattering of the train down the tracks. The man looks out the window, not saying anything. This silence stretches out as the train slows down, pulling into the next station "I suppose I'll see you next year." He says sadly to an empty car before reaching into his bag and pulling out a book. Pressed between two of the pages is a photo; the man, with darker hair and less of a paunch, a woman with chestnut hair, thick black framed glasses and smiling eyes each hold a kitten. The man's is ginger and looks perturbed, the woman's is black and white and it looks like it's trying to bat at a lock of her hair that's fallen over her face.
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It was 03:00 on a cold, wet night when my car skidded off the road, rolled 5 or 6 times, finally coming to a stop against a tree. My breathing became fast and shallow, I could feel the blood draining from me. I closed my eyes for one last time, gave my last long breath and my soul parted from my body. I stood there, looking at the wreck of a car and middle aged man, fluids mixing together in a puddle. Then, he appeared, a cloaked figure, but I didn't have any fear, he didn't make me feel scared, or want to run away, I felt calm, almost relaxed. We stood there for another few hours, silently watching the police and others work out what happened. Once the work had been done, my body recovered, the scene taped off and waiting for the morning to shed enough light to recover the car, he turned to me and said "so, are you ready to leave this relm, to go on to your eternal resting place?". I looked to him, searching for what to say, "do I have a choice, my bodys gone, what else can I do?" he sighed, obviously this wasn't the first time someone had asked that. "if you say no then I leave your soul to wander the earth, returning on the anniversary of your death, to ask again. Where do you think ghosts come from?". I stood there, silently weighing my options, "no, I'll stay" I said with a chuckle, "fine" he said, then vanished.
It took me a while to figure things out, like how to interact with things in the real world, turning lights on and off, moving stuff, how to focus my thoughts to move my soul over distances, because there's no buses for ghosts. After a couple of weeks I made it home. It was strange going through my front door, without opening it. I saw my wife on the floor, cuddling my daughter. It looked like she'd been there a while. They both looked cold. I looked around and saw the old blanket I'd use for doing 'dad' things, like when we cuddled up to watch a movie on a rainy Sunday, or build a tent in the living room, or wrap my daughter in when she wasn't feeling well, she always complained that it smelled of engine oil and my aftershave, no matter how many times we washed it. I concentrated, focusing my energy, I felt like I was trying to move a car, but finally I pushed it enough to fall on their shoulders, my wife disturbed from her sleep just enough to wrap them both up in it. Then I went upstairs, and spent another 30 minutes trying to turn the heating on, after that I felt exhausted, so I went back downstairs, took my normal spot on the sofa and went to sleep looking at my broken family.
I continued working on my ability to do things, I used them to help when I could. Turning lights off when my wife had forgotten because she was too tiered, moving what she was looking for to somewhere she would find it, I got quite good as the year went on, even to tuck my little girl into bed and turning her night light back on one night to try and let my wife sleep.
Over time, my family was healing, it was slow, but they were getting through it. My daughter had been noticing some of the things I'd do, and had even tried talking to me a few times, but no one listened to her when she said 'daddy helped'
Time went by and soon enough it was the anniversary of my death. He came to me again at 03:00, the time I had taken my last breath. He stood next to me as I watched my family sleep, "are you ready yet" he asked, I shook my head slowly, "no" I replied, "I've got too much to do yet". Death turned to me then, he lowered his hood, exposing his bare skull, "the longer you stay here, the harder it is to pass over when you decide to, after a few years it's nearly impossible, you'll be stuck between the worlds" he said, his tone a mix of pleading and warning. "I don't care" I said, staring where his eyes should be, "I let my girls down before, I can't do it again. If spending eternity trapped like this is the price to see them, to watch my daughter grow up and try to help, then I will gladly pay". "fine" he said, "see you next year" and once again, he vanished, leaving me to watch my family.
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[WP] The day you die, Death comes and asks if you are ready to go. Jokingly, you say no. To your surprise, he leaves. Now every year he comes back to ask again
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It was all because of pizza.
I had been focused all day on having dinner at the gourmet pizza place my friends and I were currently obsessed with. Our first meal there had been a revelation for me. My god, pizza can taste like this? We were there every Thursday night since it opened, convinced that this could never last.
Driving there, late from work, I'd been on the phone to my friend Nigel debating whether to order the mushrooms and anchovies. *"That does look amazing but those garlic prawns! It's redefined eating for me!"*
My last words.
I obviously wasn't paying attention to the road and the next thing I know I'm upside down and there's liquid everywhere. Some of it was petrol, some of it was blood.
It was all bad.
So I'm hanging there and someone is leaning in the upside down window, offering me a hand. The hand was see-through and seemed made of light but it was dark. It didn't make sense. And then a voice said *"It is your time."*
I was strangely serene. I was aware of bits of me being broken but it didn't matter. I was peaceful - more peaceful than I had ever felt before. I was happy to go with my new friend.
But then a vision of garlic prawns on a thin-crust base appeared and I groaned *"No!"*
*"No?"* the voice was serene but puzzled. *"Really?"*
*"Just one more pizza!"* I whispered.
*"So be it."*
And then I was in hospital and the doctor was telling someone that it was a miracle I was alive.
I dismissed the whole thing as a dream. The next year I was on a rock climbing holiday in Morocco and found myself trying to impress a cute Norwegian backpacker. I reached out and discovered I had overestimated my ability AND that my rope wasn't as secure as it should have been.
Next thing I know I'm lying on the ground and there's a tall dark figure made of light reaching out a hand for me.
*"It is time."*
There was that feeling of inevitability but I seemed to remember this happening before. Then I remembered the pizza incident and said *"Haven't we done this before?"*
*"Yes. It really is time now though. Come"*
*"What if i say no?"*
There was a pause. The dark figure was silent for a moment and then the voice spoke again: *"I can't take you if you say no. But you really should consider the..."*
I blurted out *"No!"* like a child who discovers a new word and wants to play with it. Cheating death is this easy? I could still have a chance with that Norwegian backpacker!
The dark figure had a beseeching quality in that ethereal voice. *"Can I just explain..."*
But then the ambulance was there and I woke up in hospital and it was another miracle. The Norwegian backpacker was suitably impressed and I had discovered the cheat code for life itself!
I quit my job, bought a funky camera and started posting extreme climbing and base-jumping videos. I became a viral sensation, the man who knew no fear! And then one day I jumped off a ledge at the same time as a mountain goat and **BAM!** There I was again, all messed up and that dark figure was there, telling me this time it really was time.
I was cocky by now. *"You sure about that?"*
That etheral voice was a bit louder now: *"YES! You don't know..."*
*"No! I don't want to go. I want to do Extreme pogo-stick Mountaineering! I haven't lived yet!"*
*"Please, will you just..."*
*"NO!"*
And then I was at the bottom of a mountain, my body all messed up. But I was looking at my body. And I looked dead. Really dead. My extreme buddies were gathered around me and one of them was saying *"he would have wanted to go out like this."*
*"Bullshit I would!"* I tried to shout, but I had no lungs. I was made of light. *"What's going on?"*
*"I tried to tell you."* I turned around and there was the dark figure.
*"Tried to tell me what?"*
*"You can't just keep saying 'no' and have a body to go back to."* The figure gestured to me and then began moving away. I followed, trying to stay calm.
*"So... am I dead then?"*
*"No. You had three chances to die. But you said no to all of them, so you're a spirit now."* There was an edge of annoyance in the voice: *"A disembodied spirit trapped in the form realm."*
*"OK."* I said, trying to focus on what I was being told. I was still upset over all the Extreme pogo-stick Mountaineering adventures I would never experience. C'mon, I told myself, focus! *"So what do I do now?"*
*"Well, you can hang around the living. Most who do that go mad with jealousy very quickly. Occasionally you'll be able to scare someone by impersonating a ghost but that gets old real quick. Eventually you will do what has to be done to leave here and go to the formless realm, the place you are bound for. Otherwise you will be here for eternity, watching the sun die and the stars fade and the planet itself crumble and..."*
*"OK! I hear you! So, what do I have to do?"*
A long arm stretched and a finger made of light that was dark pointed. I peered in that direction and saw a mountain. A huge mountain. *"Wow, I'd like to pogo-stick down that!"*
*"It doesn't exist in the form realm,"* said the voice, annoyed. Then it carried on calmly: *"It is the only gateway point out of here into the formless realm. If you climb to the top and wait, you will be met by the One who can transport you across the veil into that which words cannot..."*
*"Gotcha!"* I was relieved. I'd been afraid of some huge ordeal, but climb a mountain? *"Not a problem. Just get to the top and wait yeah?"*
*"Yes. The One comes when the veil is thin and..."*
*"I hear you good buddy! I can climb a mountain, no sweat."* I laughed at my own comment. *"Ha! Of course there's no sweat, I don't have a body!"* My dark-light companion said nothing, just kept moving, closer to the Mountain.
It was **huge**. Bigger than Everest. Bigger than the Himalyas. As we walked I saw other dark figures escorting spirits. I pointed to them and asked my dark figure *"Did they say 'no' too?"*
*"Yes,"* and there was a disdainful edge to the voice. *"You are not the first to say 'no' three times to Death."*
I nodded. It figured a few others would be as clever as I was. I told myself to start reframing this as an adventure. My last mountain climb and then onto the great beyond! Woo-hoo! And I'd have some climbing companions too. I waved at another spirit and they tentatively waved back. We'd have plenty of time to connect and bond; it would be a long climb up.
*"I wish I had a ghost video camera, that thing is huge! This is going to be epic!"* The mountain grew bigger with every step. And it grew stranger too. Quite weird in fact. *"Is the mountain... moving?"* I asked. The surface seemed to be writhing.
*"No."*
I looked for a good long while and then my gaze travelled down to the base of the mountain. There I suddenly realised what the movement was.
The mountain and the land all around it were covered in spirits. Like ants on a tree stump they were climbing all over the mountain, completely covering it in a carpet of limbs and bodies. Spirits climbing up every surface, some falling off, some fighting each other, all trying to get to the top. At the very top I could just see a single figure reach the apex and reach out for something above them. And then suddenly they were falling, falling, falling for what seemed a very long time.
My companion was right. I wasn't the first to say 'no' to Death.
*"Ah,"* I said, trying to take it all in, *"is there another mountain?"*
*"No."* Around me more spirits were arriving, and looking for a long time. And then slowly walking into the writhing mass of spirits that had fallen and were getting up to start climbing the mountain again.
The dark figure had a different tone of voice now. Slightly amused. *"We call this the Mountain of Regret. I believe you humans call it hell."* And then he was gone. Leaving me alone, staring at a mountain as big as a planet, covered in spirits all fighting to get to the top.
And all because of Pizza.
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It was raining, hard, that October day, and the wind was rocking the boat in her slip. I forgot my lifejacket, and my parents were too busy getting the boat ready for the end of the season.
I wanted to go and play in the park near the marina, so I leapt the gap between boat and dock. Got there okay, but the wood was so slippery.
I fell. It was cold beyond cold. I could swim, but this was completely different.
A soft voice in my ear, my late great-grandmother’s, asked, “Are you ready to go?”
“No! I’m only six!” I yelled in childish frustration.
“Okay, dear.” I woke up coughing up lake water and colder than I had ever been in my life.
The next year, I climbed too high in the old spruce tree with my brother. There was a yell and a crack. It was all so fast.
“Are you ready to go?” It was the old lady from the sweet shop in the town where my family vacationed. She always used to give me the broken candies.
“No. I’m only seven,” I said, more calmly, having learned from last year.
“Okay, honey.”
I woke up on the needle-strewn forest floor, head aching, ears ringing with my brother’s screams.
When I was eight, it happened very suddenly. I was just walking in the woods, and heard the voice, a young man’s. I had heard it before on the news. Columbine.
“Ready to go, kiddo?”
“No. I’m still a kid. But what-?”
*BANG* I instinctively ducked. Then a blaze of orange in the trees, and a bullet in the pine just behind me. “Oh God. I thought you were a deer.”
The next year, it was all of us. The infamous gales of November seemed to have come up suddenly on that beautiful Indian-summer Lake Superior day. The boat was built for racing, for speed. An odd choice for a family craft, but my dad had gotten her cheap. The wind howled, waves tossed her around like a bath toy, and my mom was so scared she actually held me. She’s stopped doing that when I was three.
I saw a dim image of the ancient black dog my family had recently lost. She couldn’t speak but the message was clear.
“You all ready to go?”
“No!” I shouted into the wind. “We can make it!”
My dad told the story of our adventure for years to come. He always says it’s an adventure as long as you survive!
It was a perfect day on remote Isle Royale when I next heard the voice, unknown but smelling of wet canvas and something deep and metallic. My senses went on high alert, waiting for the threat.
“Ready to go?”
“No! I just hit double digits.”
“Then you’d better get out of the way!” I scrambled up the nearest tree, my foot nearly touching the back of an enormous moose- a cow, I thought hysterically, no antlers- as she crashed across the path.
It came on slowly the next year. My mom was running a student exchange in Germany and took me with. I loved it, at first, but developed such a severe foreign virus that I couldn’t even keep water down. As I lay miserably in my bed under the eaves, I saw a feverish image of a gaunt man in grey rags and a number on his arm.
“Are you ready to go, *schatz*?” he asked
I coughed, forced down bile, licked my sandpaper dry lips, and said what I always had. No. Well, *nein*. He had asked in German.
The next year, it was the cat. I had started down the steep basement stairs to feed his surviving sister, and slipped. In the few seconds of my fall, his calm brown eyes looked into mine, and asked, *Are you ready to go?* without words.
I shook my head, and woke up with a concussion on the bottom step.
Life was harder the next year. I was often bullied and iced out, alone everywhere. Nothing was fun any more. I didn’t know what to do. Still, I nearly screamed when I heard my own voice in my ear.
“Ready to go, you piece of shit?” she snarled.
“N-no,” I stammered. “I’m sure high school will be better.”
She asked me twice more, and I always said no, though it grew harder. I began harming myself just to get through the day.
Then when I was sixteen, I had the accident. I went too deep. I couldn’t seem to stop the bleeding. As I frantically pressed a towel to my leg, and grew weaker, she- I?- asked almost kindly.
“It’s so hard. Ready to go?”
“Ye-no” I changed my mind. When I was fourteen, I had finally made a friend. She was closer than my own brother. I couldn’t hurt her, and even though it was a long way yet, I could see hope when I went to college.
“Have it your way, then. Honestly, I admire your determination.” And she-I?- opened her mouth and began to scream and scream, until my friend burst into the bathroom.
Life grew better that next year. I began the process of facing my pain, and hoped that I wouldn’t hear death any longer now that I was better. I was wrong. The night of the seventh Harry Potter book release at midnight, I was walking home from the bookstore, trying to read by the moonlight and streetlights as I want.
“Are you ready to go, sweetheart? Let me give you another fiver.” It was my paternal grandfather. He always shook my hand and gave me some money whenever I said goodbye after a visit. He held out his hand.
“No, sorry, Grandpa. Things are finally looking up for me. I miss you though.”
“All right, then.”
A truck blared past me on the nearly empty road, so close it tore my light jacket off. Shaking, I put the book under my arm. No more reading and walking for me.
(I could go up to my current age, 28, let me know if you want more!)
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[WP] The day you die, Death comes and asks if you are ready to go. Jokingly, you say no. To your surprise, he leaves. Now every year he comes back to ask again
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"Am I going to see her when I go with you?"
"Alexander, every year we go through this - once I hand them off, I don't know what happens. No one's ever come back once I've taken them so I have no idea."
Its an odd conversation to be having on a subway train at 3 AM, but every year they show up in some different costume - the year it was the little girl was particularly disconcerting. Death seems to favor appearances that allow them to walk among the people without notice. This year they seem to have decided on the woman on her way from one job to another - green polo shirt, black dress pants, comfortable shoes. Though you'd guess she'd be speaking with a thick Hindi accent, the voice that comes out of her slight frame rolls like distant thunder, deep and sonorous, speaking with an accent you've never heard from any other living person.
The man sitting near the woman looks out the window, not at the woman. His long hair graying and pulled back into a ponytail. He carries an attache bag, looking like a high school teacher or overburdened social workers.
"Then I'm sorry that you wasted your time coming out here tonight. I'm not ready and I'm not going to be ready until I know I'll see her again." the man called Alexander said, his voice steady
"Its not a waste of time." the woman who was Death replied, her eyes not moving from the man. They sat for a minute in silence, the only sound the wheels of the train on the tracks clattering away. "Can I ask you a question?" the deep voice Death asks, a note of trepidation in their deep tones.
Alexander seems to tense before biting off a response, icy and short "This is your meeting, isn't it? October 6th, same as every year."
Death either didn't notice the effort expended by the gray haired man or didn't care. "If you loved her so much, why are you still here? Every year we meet and every year you say you won't go until you know you can see her. But you know that won't happen while you're alive. She went through to the other side, she's...wherever she's supposed to be." and the woman looked with what could be concern at the man "You'd be surprised how close of tabs I keep on you Alexander. No children, no siblings, couple of cats, same route to and from same dead end job every day. What do you stay here for?"
The only sound is the clattering of the train down the tracks. The man looks out the window, not saying anything. This silence stretches out as the train slows down, pulling into the next station "I suppose I'll see you next year." He says sadly to an empty car before reaching into his bag and pulling out a book. Pressed between two of the pages is a photo; the man, with darker hair and less of a paunch, a woman with chestnut hair, thick black framed glasses and smiling eyes each hold a kitten. The man's is ginger and looks perturbed, the woman's is black and white and it looks like it's trying to bat at a lock of her hair that's fallen over her face.
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It was raining, hard, that October day, and the wind was rocking the boat in her slip. I forgot my lifejacket, and my parents were too busy getting the boat ready for the end of the season.
I wanted to go and play in the park near the marina, so I leapt the gap between boat and dock. Got there okay, but the wood was so slippery.
I fell. It was cold beyond cold. I could swim, but this was completely different.
A soft voice in my ear, my late great-grandmother’s, asked, “Are you ready to go?”
“No! I’m only six!” I yelled in childish frustration.
“Okay, dear.” I woke up coughing up lake water and colder than I had ever been in my life.
The next year, I climbed too high in the old spruce tree with my brother. There was a yell and a crack. It was all so fast.
“Are you ready to go?” It was the old lady from the sweet shop in the town where my family vacationed. She always used to give me the broken candies.
“No. I’m only seven,” I said, more calmly, having learned from last year.
“Okay, honey.”
I woke up on the needle-strewn forest floor, head aching, ears ringing with my brother’s screams.
When I was eight, it happened very suddenly. I was just walking in the woods, and heard the voice, a young man’s. I had heard it before on the news. Columbine.
“Ready to go, kiddo?”
“No. I’m still a kid. But what-?”
*BANG* I instinctively ducked. Then a blaze of orange in the trees, and a bullet in the pine just behind me. “Oh God. I thought you were a deer.”
The next year, it was all of us. The infamous gales of November seemed to have come up suddenly on that beautiful Indian-summer Lake Superior day. The boat was built for racing, for speed. An odd choice for a family craft, but my dad had gotten her cheap. The wind howled, waves tossed her around like a bath toy, and my mom was so scared she actually held me. She’s stopped doing that when I was three.
I saw a dim image of the ancient black dog my family had recently lost. She couldn’t speak but the message was clear.
“You all ready to go?”
“No!” I shouted into the wind. “We can make it!”
My dad told the story of our adventure for years to come. He always says it’s an adventure as long as you survive!
It was a perfect day on remote Isle Royale when I next heard the voice, unknown but smelling of wet canvas and something deep and metallic. My senses went on high alert, waiting for the threat.
“Ready to go?”
“No! I just hit double digits.”
“Then you’d better get out of the way!” I scrambled up the nearest tree, my foot nearly touching the back of an enormous moose- a cow, I thought hysterically, no antlers- as she crashed across the path.
It came on slowly the next year. My mom was running a student exchange in Germany and took me with. I loved it, at first, but developed such a severe foreign virus that I couldn’t even keep water down. As I lay miserably in my bed under the eaves, I saw a feverish image of a gaunt man in grey rags and a number on his arm.
“Are you ready to go, *schatz*?” he asked
I coughed, forced down bile, licked my sandpaper dry lips, and said what I always had. No. Well, *nein*. He had asked in German.
The next year, it was the cat. I had started down the steep basement stairs to feed his surviving sister, and slipped. In the few seconds of my fall, his calm brown eyes looked into mine, and asked, *Are you ready to go?* without words.
I shook my head, and woke up with a concussion on the bottom step.
Life was harder the next year. I was often bullied and iced out, alone everywhere. Nothing was fun any more. I didn’t know what to do. Still, I nearly screamed when I heard my own voice in my ear.
“Ready to go, you piece of shit?” she snarled.
“N-no,” I stammered. “I’m sure high school will be better.”
She asked me twice more, and I always said no, though it grew harder. I began harming myself just to get through the day.
Then when I was sixteen, I had the accident. I went too deep. I couldn’t seem to stop the bleeding. As I frantically pressed a towel to my leg, and grew weaker, she- I?- asked almost kindly.
“It’s so hard. Ready to go?”
“Ye-no” I changed my mind. When I was fourteen, I had finally made a friend. She was closer than my own brother. I couldn’t hurt her, and even though it was a long way yet, I could see hope when I went to college.
“Have it your way, then. Honestly, I admire your determination.” And she-I?- opened her mouth and began to scream and scream, until my friend burst into the bathroom.
Life grew better that next year. I began the process of facing my pain, and hoped that I wouldn’t hear death any longer now that I was better. I was wrong. The night of the seventh Harry Potter book release at midnight, I was walking home from the bookstore, trying to read by the moonlight and streetlights as I want.
“Are you ready to go, sweetheart? Let me give you another fiver.” It was my paternal grandfather. He always shook my hand and gave me some money whenever I said goodbye after a visit. He held out his hand.
“No, sorry, Grandpa. Things are finally looking up for me. I miss you though.”
“All right, then.”
A truck blared past me on the nearly empty road, so close it tore my light jacket off. Shaking, I put the book under my arm. No more reading and walking for me.
(I could go up to my current age, 28, let me know if you want more!)
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[WP] The day you die, Death comes and asks if you are ready to go. Jokingly, you say no. To your surprise, he leaves. Now every year he comes back to ask again
|
"Am I going to see her when I go with you?"
"Alexander, every year we go through this - once I hand them off, I don't know what happens. No one's ever come back once I've taken them so I have no idea."
Its an odd conversation to be having on a subway train at 3 AM, but every year they show up in some different costume - the year it was the little girl was particularly disconcerting. Death seems to favor appearances that allow them to walk among the people without notice. This year they seem to have decided on the woman on her way from one job to another - green polo shirt, black dress pants, comfortable shoes. Though you'd guess she'd be speaking with a thick Hindi accent, the voice that comes out of her slight frame rolls like distant thunder, deep and sonorous, speaking with an accent you've never heard from any other living person.
The man sitting near the woman looks out the window, not at the woman. His long hair graying and pulled back into a ponytail. He carries an attache bag, looking like a high school teacher or overburdened social workers.
"Then I'm sorry that you wasted your time coming out here tonight. I'm not ready and I'm not going to be ready until I know I'll see her again." the man called Alexander said, his voice steady
"Its not a waste of time." the woman who was Death replied, her eyes not moving from the man. They sat for a minute in silence, the only sound the wheels of the train on the tracks clattering away. "Can I ask you a question?" the deep voice Death asks, a note of trepidation in their deep tones.
Alexander seems to tense before biting off a response, icy and short "This is your meeting, isn't it? October 6th, same as every year."
Death either didn't notice the effort expended by the gray haired man or didn't care. "If you loved her so much, why are you still here? Every year we meet and every year you say you won't go until you know you can see her. But you know that won't happen while you're alive. She went through to the other side, she's...wherever she's supposed to be." and the woman looked with what could be concern at the man "You'd be surprised how close of tabs I keep on you Alexander. No children, no siblings, couple of cats, same route to and from same dead end job every day. What do you stay here for?"
The only sound is the clattering of the train down the tracks. The man looks out the window, not saying anything. This silence stretches out as the train slows down, pulling into the next station "I suppose I'll see you next year." He says sadly to an empty car before reaching into his bag and pulling out a book. Pressed between two of the pages is a photo; the man, with darker hair and less of a paunch, a woman with chestnut hair, thick black framed glasses and smiling eyes each hold a kitten. The man's is ginger and looks perturbed, the woman's is black and white and it looks like it's trying to bat at a lock of her hair that's fallen over her face.
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I was chilling in my house in my boxers. I was sitting in my easy chair, preparing to watch a marathon of Hammer Horror films. Suddenly a cloud of mist engulfed the room. All the lights dimmed and I felt cold. I was terrified and wondered if this was the end. Then a hooded figure appeared.
“OOOOOOOOHH.” said the figure, waving it’s arms. I couldn’t help it. I burst out laughing. The figure raised its scythe to me.
“Don’t laugh.” said the figure. “I am Death. Your time has come.”
“Nice Halloween costume,” I said.
“It’s not a Halloween costume!” said Death, pulling down his hood to reveal a skeletal face.
“Nice plastic skull mask.” I said.
“It’s not a costume!” Death raised his scythe again and slashed my arm with it.
“Ow! What the fuck!” I yelled. “They let you walk around with that thing?”
“I don’t have time for this.” said Death. “Your time has come. Are you ready to go?”
“Are you really asking me?” I said.
“Of course, there is always a choice.”
“Well then, I’ll have to say no.”
“Ok then.”
“That’s it?”
“That’s it. I’ll return at a later date.”
“Come back anytime.” I said, sinking back into my chair, ready to watch some movies. “Honey, I cut myself!” I yelled to my wife.
​
A year later, I was in the bath. I always hated baths until I got older and enjoyed the affect of a warm bath on my aging body. I was flicking my doodle back and forth, when I felt a sudden chill. The room got dark and misty again.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake!” I yelled. Death had appeared again in front of me.
“Would it kill you to knock?” I asked,
“Hello again.” said Death. “How has this last year of life treated you?”
“Oh, can’t complain. I got laid off and my wife has medical bills.”
“That’s life.” said Death in a bored voice. “It gives you things and takes them away.”
“Well, I’d love to chat longer, but as you can see, this is an inopportune time for me.” I said.
“This will be quick.” said Death. “I have come to ask you again if you are ready to depart this world.”
“No.” I said. “Not quite ready yet.”
“Very well,” said Death. “Have a nice day.”
Death faded into the darkness, and the mist dissipated from the room. Someone was knocking on the bathroom door. It was my wife.
“Are you talking to someone in there?”
​
Another year passed. I was sitting on a chair on my back porch, a beer in my hand. Suddenly the familiar mist appeared again. I groaned in annoyance. Death was there, standing on my back porch.
“Hello again.” said Death.
“Death,” I said, nodding my head but not looking at him.
We stood for a while admiring the view of my backyard.
“Another year gone by.” said Death.
“The world keeps turning even when mine doesn’t.” I said.
“Yes, I came to visit your wife a few months ago.” said Death. “She left with me right away, unlike you. Wouldn’t you like to be with her?”
“Nope, not ready to die.” I said curtly.
“What is there for you here without your wife?” asked Death. “You don’t seem to be leading a very fulfilling life anymore.”
“I’m just… I’m afraid of what happens next.”
“It’s very painless, I assure you.”
“You said I always had a choice.”
“You do.”
“Then I’m not ready yet.” I said firmly.
“Very well. Until our next meeting.” Death had his usual exit, and I was left alone with my thoughts.
​
Twenty years went by. Death came to visit me for the first 8, as usual, but eventually even he gave up trying to convince me. I kept to a usual routine each day, but life had taken its toll. My eyesight was nearly gone and my hands were withered and arthritic. I was sitting on the porch drinking a beer when Death showed again.
“Hello old friend.”
“Death,” I said. “It’s been a while. Thought’d you given up on me.”
“I never give up on anyone.”
“How have you been these last few years?” I asked.
“You know, no one has ever asked about me.” said Death.
“It’s your getup.” I said. “You could wear more welcoming attire.”
“People are scared of death,” he said. “I don’t know why. No one is scared of being born.”
“No one remembers their birth,” I said.
“It is so confusing, being born. You’re wet and cold, and not yet ready for this big world.”
“Death is scarier,” I said.
“You know, most people your age are ready to accept death.”
“I don’t know why.”
“What are you living for?” said Death. “Your wife wouldn’t have wanted you to live your last years like this. If you’re not ready to die, but you don’t want to live, what do you want?”
“You’re right,” I said, contemplating. We sat in more silence until Death was ready to leave again.
“I’ve got a lot more appointments today. If you’re not ready to come, I will just say, until our next meeting.”
Death left again. That night, I called up some of my old buddies I hadn’t talked to in years. Most of them had passed on by this point, but I made plans to meet with two surviving friends.
​
Three more years passed. I was sitting in an easy chair in a neighbors house. Death came again for the last time.
“Hello Death.” I said, opening my eyes.
“Thought I’d try again. I heard from Alan before he died.”
“Alan was a good friend and he had an amazing family.” I said.
“He seemed glad you chose to reconnect with him again.”
“It felt good to be back in the world for a while.” I said. “I’ve been talking to some high schoolers. Listening to their stories and telling them all about my past. It’s been great reliving it all. I had a fulfilling life.”
“That’s nice to hear.” said Death. “So are you finally ready?”
“Yes, I do believe it’s time.” I said, slowing rising from my chair and offering a handshake to Death. “And I really have to thank you for all your help.”
I looked back at the chair and saw my body still sitting there, limp. “Would you look at that.” I said. I turned and walked with Death and vanished into the mist.
|
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[WP] The day you die, Death comes and asks if you are ready to go. Jokingly, you say no. To your surprise, he leaves. Now every year he comes back to ask again
|
Hundreds of years have passed. Everyone you’ve known or loved has gone. The months, weeks, days, and hours tick by as you continually battle the cancer that should have taken you back in 2019. Your body is in a constant state of failure, but that bastard won’t come. “This is the year”, you tell yourself, waiting for that old familiar shadow to whisper it’s ever-repeating query. “This is the year I say yes”. You shudder at the thought of your arrogance in rejecting death all these years. As the hour approaches, you place your last will and testament, along with a detailed account of your long suffering, at the foot of your bed. You gobble over to your arm chair and sink in, forever tired. The clock strikes midnight. Anticipation creeping into every aching fiber of your being. Sweet sleep is coming.
But Death does not show.
Death has rejected you.
Death has abandoned you.
Death has punished you.
|
"Erin, are you ready to go?" Its voice wasn't a whisper nor a scream. There was no way to tell if it was Male or female.
I hadn't survived and they had. But, I was too distracted by literal Death to realize that. In my shock I joked, "Not quite yet Death. I still have some things to do." From what I knew, Death never accepted that answer to begin with.
But, he just nodded? Why would he let me of all people go? The crash was enough to kill me.
I could feel myself coming too soon after. And everyone asking if I was ok as I gasped for air.
I couldn't remember the rest of that night until death came for me the next year. Having drank myself into a stupor, Rose had tried to comfort me. Assuring me the accident wasn't my fault. But, I knew that wasn't the problem.
She drove me home that night and helped me up to my apartment. Staying the night to make sure I was ok. Little did either of us know that I had drank too much and he had come again, holding the same question.
Despite the familiarity I gave the same response. It's been years now and he comes back. Whether I did something stupid, there was an accident or god forbid another attempted murder. I'm getting sick of dying. My body is tired and Death is starting to look weary too.
This time, I'm going with them.
"Erin Grayland, 24, Female. Cause of death, death on impact, April 21, 2019. 9:33pm."
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|
[WP] The day you die, Death comes and asks if you are ready to go. Jokingly, you say no. To your surprise, he leaves. Now every year he comes back to ask again
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*This is my first attempt at anything creative in years so sorry if it's a bit pants*
----
The explosion rocked him to his very core, as he fell to the floor the rubble fell around him.
His unit surrounded him,
"I dont want to die" he sobbed as a medic performed first aid. Or was too late for some of his section.
----
Steve awoke in a hospital bed with 2 friends sitting by his side, neither saying a word. There was a third figure, a cloaked man that he felt like he had known all his life. The pain in his legs, the image of that bloody stump, it all started to come back to him. Steve uncontrollably drifted off to nothing once again.
----
Over the next few week Steve learnt the fate of his unit, how 2 of his friends were killed in the immediate explosion and how 3 more were horribly injured. It tore him apart that he was point man, that he initiated the IED, that it was his poor drills that caused the explosion.
There was a piercing scream that filled the wing of the hospital, the grief filled the air. His friends were back with the cloaked figure but this time they brought one more friend into the ward with them. This time they each leaned in turn kissed him on the forehead saying "make it count"
----
A year later Steve was at home, he had caught up with a few of the guys from his unit the other week. By caught up, he had a few drop in to see him. He was drinking again and it was bad this time. His whole section had since left and most had hit the bottle pretty bad. Since the last reunion one of the guys had decided to end it all. He never was the same after that explosion. Noe of them where.
His place was a mess, he struggled to walk anywhere with his goverment issued stump. He stuck to gin and whisky. He hated it but it meant getting up less when walking hurt so much. That's when he tied off the noose
That night Steve was visited by 3 familiar faces and a cloaked figure, but this time there was another. The cloked figure asked, "Are you ready?"
Steve shook his head in horror as his 4 friends each turned to him and said "make it count"
---
A year had passed, Steve was off the drink completely and helping at the local Vets centre. So many people were struggling to get by, that war ruined so many people and he knew that he could help people turn it around, he found a way to help again.
Jane is there too, Jane is always there, her wildness about her eyes, her sass with the biggest of guys and the compassion for those who needed it most, she had the mouth of a sailor and she was perfect.
Steve was helping dig out the store room, the Christmas decorations were usually in the way of everything, as 4 familiar friends walked in. He knew why they were there. The cloaked figures hand rested on Steve's shoulder
"Not yet" Steve proclaimed.
"Make it count" they said and drifted into nothing.
----
The years passed, Steve married Jane with the perfect little wedding, had a little boy called Logan and grew old together helping veterans. logan was hard work for Steve not only because of his injuries but he was a bit older than most the dads but he loved every moment of it.
---
Every year Steve was visited by his friends following the same drill as last time, each time he saw them he was even more shocked by how young they were.
-----
Steve had grown tonbe an old man surrounded by people he loved and Logan was now looking the same age as the friends that were his frequent guests. They visited him but this time it was the friends who asked him if they would come with them.
Steve agreed, but before he did he had to give one last message to Logan. He leaned in, kissed him on the forehead and whispered
"Make it count"
|
"Erin, are you ready to go?" Its voice wasn't a whisper nor a scream. There was no way to tell if it was Male or female.
I hadn't survived and they had. But, I was too distracted by literal Death to realize that. In my shock I joked, "Not quite yet Death. I still have some things to do." From what I knew, Death never accepted that answer to begin with.
But, he just nodded? Why would he let me of all people go? The crash was enough to kill me.
I could feel myself coming too soon after. And everyone asking if I was ok as I gasped for air.
I couldn't remember the rest of that night until death came for me the next year. Having drank myself into a stupor, Rose had tried to comfort me. Assuring me the accident wasn't my fault. But, I knew that wasn't the problem.
She drove me home that night and helped me up to my apartment. Staying the night to make sure I was ok. Little did either of us know that I had drank too much and he had come again, holding the same question.
Despite the familiarity I gave the same response. It's been years now and he comes back. Whether I did something stupid, there was an accident or god forbid another attempted murder. I'm getting sick of dying. My body is tired and Death is starting to look weary too.
This time, I'm going with them.
"Erin Grayland, 24, Female. Cause of death, death on impact, April 21, 2019. 9:33pm."
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[WP] The day you die, Death comes and asks if you are ready to go. Jokingly, you say no. To your surprise, he leaves. Now every year he comes back to ask again
|
April 6th was always a special day for Melody. Regardless of all the bad things that happened in her life, the best things happened on April 6th.
Melody was 26 when Death first appeared. She had spotted him down the hallway as she moved about her apartment. The hair on the back of her neck had stood up, but as he moved silently in her direction her tension faded from her. She didn’t know why, but she felt that this apparition was her blessing for the day, which was April 6th.
He appeared to float in a black fog as he towered over Melody. “Human, are you ready to part with your life?” Though no eyes could be seen in the apparition’s skull... she felt as though he had been cataloging each of her various scars and injuries. She could feel him bore into each horrible memory after the other. It felt as if he was telling that she had seen enough... that she had been through enough.
Melody often had trouble smiling from her heart, but when she told him that she wasn’t ready to give up yet she smiled at him easily. Without further word he disappeared from her view.
As if the world had resumed moving she moved to go answer the knock at her door. It was a younger neighbor from down the hall. He had collapsed at her door clutching his chest. Melody ran to get her phone and call an ambulance for him. She stayed by his side till they arrived, never seeing the gun tucked away in his pocket.
From then on, on April 6th, Melody always considered the visit from Death as her blessing. He asked her if she was ready to leave this world behind and when she said no... he saved her from car crashes, a murder/suicide, medication mix-ups, and much more. He never asked any more of her, but as time drew on he lingered more.
When Melody was 31 and the fated April 6th came about, she didn’t answer his question at all. In his confusion he asked her again. “Are you ready to move on from this life?” “Death, why do you continue to save my life when I am not ready to go?” There was silence that followed. His teeth clacked and grinded against each other as if words could be formed from that alone.
“You’ve... had a bad life. I was merely curious if you wanted to continue living it.” A lie. It was a strange intuition she had about the reason. Almost like the grinding of teeth was a tell that hadn’t been abandoned in more than hundreds of years. “And the truth?” She needn’t elaborate any more than that. “You are... important to me. Tell me, do you know why you suffer so?” Melody had often asked that of herself.
“When I was a girl, I dreamed of a past life.” “Tova.” Although she was taken aback by her previous name, she continued. “Yes, Tova was my name. My father was a warrior and my mother oft told tales of his greatness. When he would return from his campaigns he would adorn my room with all sorts of unique toys. He treated me like a princess and gave me all that I could ever want. However, he was a beast in sheep’s clothing. His campaigns were nothing but a cover to rape and pillage. Each toy he gave me was torn from the charred fingers of the children he murdered. Eventually, a old woman laid a curse upon him and his ilk.” The dreams were vivid like a freshly scarred memory.
“My father truly loved my mother and me, but this curse turned all of his cruelty towards us. He slayed my mother and tortured me for many years. I remember begging him to just take my life, but he couldn’t free me from his curse. The daughter who shared his blood would share his fate.”
Silence. When Melody was a child she thought this was just a crazy dream to help her cope with her situation in this life. As the silence grew she knew in this instance that it was not.
“You had a child. Tova had a child.” Her breath hitched and she could feel her veins ice over. “I did. Arylss was his name.” “It means honorable, does it not?” Melody knew now why she felt blessed on April 26th. She bore Arylss on that day. He was a shining light in a dim world. When she had started bleeding, her father sold her to a brothel and eventually she bore a ‘bastard’.
“Yes, honorable. He was my light in a dark world.” There was no visual cue that he was smiling, but she could feel it. “It was you who gave me blessings every year on April 6th wasn’t it?”
More teeth grinding. “Yes, and I reaped your father before it was his time as well.” She nodded slowly. “He will be back for another life, and you will be his daughter once more.”
“Will you be waiting for me to be reborn again?”
“Always.”
“I’m ready, Arylss.” She smiled from her heart as she looked upon him. Even if he was only bones now, he was still just as beautiful of a sight as he had been when she first laid eyes upon him after birth.
“I see...”
“Oh, and Happy Birthday my child.” She stood and softly slid he hood from his skull. Delicately she kissed his head.
With a choked grinding of teeth, “Thank you, mother.”
Note: I typed this on my phone, so I’m really sorry if there are a lot of errors.
|
"Erin, are you ready to go?" Its voice wasn't a whisper nor a scream. There was no way to tell if it was Male or female.
I hadn't survived and they had. But, I was too distracted by literal Death to realize that. In my shock I joked, "Not quite yet Death. I still have some things to do." From what I knew, Death never accepted that answer to begin with.
But, he just nodded? Why would he let me of all people go? The crash was enough to kill me.
I could feel myself coming too soon after. And everyone asking if I was ok as I gasped for air.
I couldn't remember the rest of that night until death came for me the next year. Having drank myself into a stupor, Rose had tried to comfort me. Assuring me the accident wasn't my fault. But, I knew that wasn't the problem.
She drove me home that night and helped me up to my apartment. Staying the night to make sure I was ok. Little did either of us know that I had drank too much and he had come again, holding the same question.
Despite the familiarity I gave the same response. It's been years now and he comes back. Whether I did something stupid, there was an accident or god forbid another attempted murder. I'm getting sick of dying. My body is tired and Death is starting to look weary too.
This time, I'm going with them.
"Erin Grayland, 24, Female. Cause of death, death on impact, April 21, 2019. 9:33pm."
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|
[WP] The day you die, Death comes and asks if you are ready to go. Jokingly, you say no. To your surprise, he leaves. Now every year he comes back to ask again
|
"Are you ready?" Death asked. His emotionless eyes stared down at me, calm and cool.
I huffed out a disagreement as a reply. "No, I didn't want to die just yet. My life just started."
Death didn't say anything, just nodded and turned away. I sucked in the breath of life, hearing the joyful gasp from my surroundings. It was a happy day.
The second time Death visited me, I was under a car, right next to the wheel. Everything around me ceased in time, only Death approached.
"Are you ready?" He asked again. The question sounded light as a feather, but it struck something heavy in my chest.
My eyes found the biggest love of my life, Alice, who was frozen in the air as she ran to my place. Her face twisted in shock and fear. "No," I said, "I'm not ready yet."
Death tilted his head, the corner of his mouth twitched. "Very well." He whispered and turned around. Death left again. I was spared one more time.
The third time I met Death, the house was on fire. Death walked through the flames like walking through silk. He crouched down next to me, asking the familiar question. "Are you ready?"
I glanced down at the leg that was crushed by the fallen closet and then brought my eyes up at Death. "I'm sorry, I'm not ready. Alice is still in her room. I need to wake her up."
Death gestured my leg. "If you go on, the rest of your life would be in pain."
"It doesn't matter." I coughed. My eyes were dry and my throat was on fire. "Alice means everything to me."
Death sighed, standing up. "We'll be seeing each other again." He left, as usual.
The fire destroyed the house. The only thing I could remember from that night besides the conversation with Death was Alice's relieved face when she found out we both survived. I had no idea how I was able to carry her out, but I managed. Somehow, I had a feeling that Death had spared us both.
Years went by, and soon enough I was old, very old. And sick. I laid still on my bed when my family gathered around. Many of them cried, and I wished I could do something about it. But I was too weak to move.
Everyone said their farewell, because they knew my time had come. I did, too. I could already feel Death's presence.
"I'm not ready yet, Death." I said, knowing Death would hear me. "Alice isn't here yet. I can't go without seeing Alice for the last time."
"Don't worry, my friend." Death's hollow voice echoed in my ears. "I'll wait with you."
And he did. I took every heavy breath carefully, stringing along my chance. Then I heard Alice's familiar footsteps. I opened my eyes to see her rushing through the door.
She called out my name, wrapping her arms around me. The warmth and scent were welcoming. This was it. This was home.
With teary eyes, Alice said her goodbye. I laid my head on her hands, taking in every word. She said she loved me. I knew that already, but my heart jumped for joy every time she did.
"I am ready, Death." I closed my eyes.
The pain, the weight, the stiff movements suddenly left my body. I opened my eyes and found myself next to Death, right behind my family. Everyone was weeping, and half of me wanted to stay. But I knew it was impossible.
"I apologize for not coming with you so many times." I said to Death.
Death shook his head. "It's fine." He patted my head. "Let's go."
I took a final glance at Alice and her family, then walked alongside with Death.
"What's next?" I asked.
"Why don't you tell me? It has always been your decision."
I thought for a moment and suggested, "I want to stay by your side, is that okay?"
Death smiled for the first time. "Who am I to refuse a good boy's request?"
|
"Erin, are you ready to go?" Its voice wasn't a whisper nor a scream. There was no way to tell if it was Male or female.
I hadn't survived and they had. But, I was too distracted by literal Death to realize that. In my shock I joked, "Not quite yet Death. I still have some things to do." From what I knew, Death never accepted that answer to begin with.
But, he just nodded? Why would he let me of all people go? The crash was enough to kill me.
I could feel myself coming too soon after. And everyone asking if I was ok as I gasped for air.
I couldn't remember the rest of that night until death came for me the next year. Having drank myself into a stupor, Rose had tried to comfort me. Assuring me the accident wasn't my fault. But, I knew that wasn't the problem.
She drove me home that night and helped me up to my apartment. Staying the night to make sure I was ok. Little did either of us know that I had drank too much and he had come again, holding the same question.
Despite the familiarity I gave the same response. It's been years now and he comes back. Whether I did something stupid, there was an accident or god forbid another attempted murder. I'm getting sick of dying. My body is tired and Death is starting to look weary too.
This time, I'm going with them.
"Erin Grayland, 24, Female. Cause of death, death on impact, April 21, 2019. 9:33pm."
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|
[WP] The day you die, Death comes and asks if you are ready to go. Jokingly, you say no. To your surprise, he leaves. Now every year he comes back to ask again
|
I died choking on lunch in my office. Ironic, because we’d just spent the Friday two weeks ago going over CPR and first aid procedures, but obviously that didn’t do much good. I suppose I could have done more to help myself - I have my own office, so there was no one there to see me clutching at my throat. I could have taken the few steps into the hallway, but I didn’t. I stood at my desk and tried to lodge the cucumber (cucumber! What a waste!) out by slamming myself against the top of my office chair.
Eventually, things just went black. When I came to, he was standing there, brandishing a clip board. “All right,” he said. “Ready to go?”
He didn’t fit any of the depictions of himself I’d seen on tv, but I knew right away who he was. That’s how it is with those in power though. They certainly don’t need a name tag.
I looked at my half finished salad on my desk, on top of the stack of paperwork I needed to have done for the audit next week. My boss had been in this same office just hours before, squeezing the bridge of her nose, telling me how stressed everyone was and how important finishing up those files was.
I was saying the words before I’d even thought them through - “Maybe I could just have a little extra time? To finish this up?”
Death made a mark on his clipboard and shrugged his shoulders. In a blink, he was gone. I sat back down at my desk and finished my salad.
A month later, I was fairly certain I’d fallen asleep at my desk. The cucumber that had been lodged in my throat never came out, so it made sense I’d imagined it all. By six months, I was sure it had just been a dream. I hadn’t been getting good sleep, anyway, pulling extra hours to get everything done.
A year later, though, he came again. Same clipboard. “Are you ready?”
I shook my head. Motioned to my desk again - “It seems it never stops piling up, doesn’t it?”
Death made another mark and an expression I couldn’t place. Annoyance? Pity? Again, he was gone in a blink.
And so it happened, year in and year out. He’d always show up and ask if I was ready, and I’d always point out the stack of paperwork on my desk and tell him not quite.
According to my calendar, he should be here in just a few moments. I stayed late all last week getting everything ready. I suppose after so many years, the curiosity has got the better of me.
He arrives right on time. Pulls out his clipboard, asks the standard question. This time, I put the note I wrote to my boss on my desk and stand up. “All right,” I say. “I’m ready to die.”
Death marks his clipboard and reaches one hand out to me and places it on my shoulder. “You’re ready to go now, you mean” he says. “You’ve been dead for twenty six years. Since you choked on that cucumber.”
I don’t understand what he means. Death can see my obvious confusion, and explains further: “You died the first time I came for you. You left earth as you know it at that time. You just weren’t ready to move on. You’ve been here, working away, ever since.”
“What do you mean? I’ve been here, everything has been the same. My coworkers, the Chinese food delivery guy, it’s all been there.”
“A representation of it has. But not the real people. This work, it’s not real, of course.” With a wave of his hand, the papers on my desk started to disappear. Another wave, and my desk was gone. Then the walls. Then the ceiling and the floor until we were standing in nothing.
Death pushes me forward. “You’re ready now, though” he says. “That’s all that matters.”
|
"Erin, are you ready to go?" Its voice wasn't a whisper nor a scream. There was no way to tell if it was Male or female.
I hadn't survived and they had. But, I was too distracted by literal Death to realize that. In my shock I joked, "Not quite yet Death. I still have some things to do." From what I knew, Death never accepted that answer to begin with.
But, he just nodded? Why would he let me of all people go? The crash was enough to kill me.
I could feel myself coming too soon after. And everyone asking if I was ok as I gasped for air.
I couldn't remember the rest of that night until death came for me the next year. Having drank myself into a stupor, Rose had tried to comfort me. Assuring me the accident wasn't my fault. But, I knew that wasn't the problem.
She drove me home that night and helped me up to my apartment. Staying the night to make sure I was ok. Little did either of us know that I had drank too much and he had come again, holding the same question.
Despite the familiarity I gave the same response. It's been years now and he comes back. Whether I did something stupid, there was an accident or god forbid another attempted murder. I'm getting sick of dying. My body is tired and Death is starting to look weary too.
This time, I'm going with them.
"Erin Grayland, 24, Female. Cause of death, death on impact, April 21, 2019. 9:33pm."
|
|
[WP] The day you die, Death comes and asks if you are ready to go. Jokingly, you say no. To your surprise, he leaves. Now every year he comes back to ask again
|
*This is my first attempt at anything creative in years so sorry if it's a bit pants*
----
The explosion rocked him to his very core, as he fell to the floor the rubble fell around him.
His unit surrounded him,
"I dont want to die" he sobbed as a medic performed first aid. Or was too late for some of his section.
----
Steve awoke in a hospital bed with 2 friends sitting by his side, neither saying a word. There was a third figure, a cloaked man that he felt like he had known all his life. The pain in his legs, the image of that bloody stump, it all started to come back to him. Steve uncontrollably drifted off to nothing once again.
----
Over the next few week Steve learnt the fate of his unit, how 2 of his friends were killed in the immediate explosion and how 3 more were horribly injured. It tore him apart that he was point man, that he initiated the IED, that it was his poor drills that caused the explosion.
There was a piercing scream that filled the wing of the hospital, the grief filled the air. His friends were back with the cloaked figure but this time they brought one more friend into the ward with them. This time they each leaned in turn kissed him on the forehead saying "make it count"
----
A year later Steve was at home, he had caught up with a few of the guys from his unit the other week. By caught up, he had a few drop in to see him. He was drinking again and it was bad this time. His whole section had since left and most had hit the bottle pretty bad. Since the last reunion one of the guys had decided to end it all. He never was the same after that explosion. Noe of them where.
His place was a mess, he struggled to walk anywhere with his goverment issued stump. He stuck to gin and whisky. He hated it but it meant getting up less when walking hurt so much. That's when he tied off the noose
That night Steve was visited by 3 familiar faces and a cloaked figure, but this time there was another. The cloked figure asked, "Are you ready?"
Steve shook his head in horror as his 4 friends each turned to him and said "make it count"
---
A year had passed, Steve was off the drink completely and helping at the local Vets centre. So many people were struggling to get by, that war ruined so many people and he knew that he could help people turn it around, he found a way to help again.
Jane is there too, Jane is always there, her wildness about her eyes, her sass with the biggest of guys and the compassion for those who needed it most, she had the mouth of a sailor and she was perfect.
Steve was helping dig out the store room, the Christmas decorations were usually in the way of everything, as 4 familiar friends walked in. He knew why they were there. The cloaked figures hand rested on Steve's shoulder
"Not yet" Steve proclaimed.
"Make it count" they said and drifted into nothing.
----
The years passed, Steve married Jane with the perfect little wedding, had a little boy called Logan and grew old together helping veterans. logan was hard work for Steve not only because of his injuries but he was a bit older than most the dads but he loved every moment of it.
---
Every year Steve was visited by his friends following the same drill as last time, each time he saw them he was even more shocked by how young they were.
-----
Steve had grown tonbe an old man surrounded by people he loved and Logan was now looking the same age as the friends that were his frequent guests. They visited him but this time it was the friends who asked him if they would come with them.
Steve agreed, but before he did he had to give one last message to Logan. He leaned in, kissed him on the forehead and whispered
"Make it count"
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Hundreds of years have passed. Everyone you’ve known or loved has gone. The months, weeks, days, and hours tick by as you continually battle the cancer that should have taken you back in 2019. Your body is in a constant state of failure, but that bastard won’t come. “This is the year”, you tell yourself, waiting for that old familiar shadow to whisper it’s ever-repeating query. “This is the year I say yes”. You shudder at the thought of your arrogance in rejecting death all these years. As the hour approaches, you place your last will and testament, along with a detailed account of your long suffering, at the foot of your bed. You gobble over to your arm chair and sink in, forever tired. The clock strikes midnight. Anticipation creeping into every aching fiber of your being. Sweet sleep is coming.
But Death does not show.
Death has rejected you.
Death has abandoned you.
Death has punished you.
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[WP] The day you die, Death comes and asks if you are ready to go. Jokingly, you say no. To your surprise, he leaves. Now every year he comes back to ask again
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April 6th was always a special day for Melody. Regardless of all the bad things that happened in her life, the best things happened on April 6th.
Melody was 26 when Death first appeared. She had spotted him down the hallway as she moved about her apartment. The hair on the back of her neck had stood up, but as he moved silently in her direction her tension faded from her. She didn’t know why, but she felt that this apparition was her blessing for the day, which was April 6th.
He appeared to float in a black fog as he towered over Melody. “Human, are you ready to part with your life?” Though no eyes could be seen in the apparition’s skull... she felt as though he had been cataloging each of her various scars and injuries. She could feel him bore into each horrible memory after the other. It felt as if he was telling that she had seen enough... that she had been through enough.
Melody often had trouble smiling from her heart, but when she told him that she wasn’t ready to give up yet she smiled at him easily. Without further word he disappeared from her view.
As if the world had resumed moving she moved to go answer the knock at her door. It was a younger neighbor from down the hall. He had collapsed at her door clutching his chest. Melody ran to get her phone and call an ambulance for him. She stayed by his side till they arrived, never seeing the gun tucked away in his pocket.
From then on, on April 6th, Melody always considered the visit from Death as her blessing. He asked her if she was ready to leave this world behind and when she said no... he saved her from car crashes, a murder/suicide, medication mix-ups, and much more. He never asked any more of her, but as time drew on he lingered more.
When Melody was 31 and the fated April 6th came about, she didn’t answer his question at all. In his confusion he asked her again. “Are you ready to move on from this life?” “Death, why do you continue to save my life when I am not ready to go?” There was silence that followed. His teeth clacked and grinded against each other as if words could be formed from that alone.
“You’ve... had a bad life. I was merely curious if you wanted to continue living it.” A lie. It was a strange intuition she had about the reason. Almost like the grinding of teeth was a tell that hadn’t been abandoned in more than hundreds of years. “And the truth?” She needn’t elaborate any more than that. “You are... important to me. Tell me, do you know why you suffer so?” Melody had often asked that of herself.
“When I was a girl, I dreamed of a past life.” “Tova.” Although she was taken aback by her previous name, she continued. “Yes, Tova was my name. My father was a warrior and my mother oft told tales of his greatness. When he would return from his campaigns he would adorn my room with all sorts of unique toys. He treated me like a princess and gave me all that I could ever want. However, he was a beast in sheep’s clothing. His campaigns were nothing but a cover to rape and pillage. Each toy he gave me was torn from the charred fingers of the children he murdered. Eventually, a old woman laid a curse upon him and his ilk.” The dreams were vivid like a freshly scarred memory.
“My father truly loved my mother and me, but this curse turned all of his cruelty towards us. He slayed my mother and tortured me for many years. I remember begging him to just take my life, but he couldn’t free me from his curse. The daughter who shared his blood would share his fate.”
Silence. When Melody was a child she thought this was just a crazy dream to help her cope with her situation in this life. As the silence grew she knew in this instance that it was not.
“You had a child. Tova had a child.” Her breath hitched and she could feel her veins ice over. “I did. Arylss was his name.” “It means honorable, does it not?” Melody knew now why she felt blessed on April 26th. She bore Arylss on that day. He was a shining light in a dim world. When she had started bleeding, her father sold her to a brothel and eventually she bore a ‘bastard’.
“Yes, honorable. He was my light in a dark world.” There was no visual cue that he was smiling, but she could feel it. “It was you who gave me blessings every year on April 6th wasn’t it?”
More teeth grinding. “Yes, and I reaped your father before it was his time as well.” She nodded slowly. “He will be back for another life, and you will be his daughter once more.”
“Will you be waiting for me to be reborn again?”
“Always.”
“I’m ready, Arylss.” She smiled from her heart as she looked upon him. Even if he was only bones now, he was still just as beautiful of a sight as he had been when she first laid eyes upon him after birth.
“I see...”
“Oh, and Happy Birthday my child.” She stood and softly slid he hood from his skull. Delicately she kissed his head.
With a choked grinding of teeth, “Thank you, mother.”
Note: I typed this on my phone, so I’m really sorry if there are a lot of errors.
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Hundreds of years have passed. Everyone you’ve known or loved has gone. The months, weeks, days, and hours tick by as you continually battle the cancer that should have taken you back in 2019. Your body is in a constant state of failure, but that bastard won’t come. “This is the year”, you tell yourself, waiting for that old familiar shadow to whisper it’s ever-repeating query. “This is the year I say yes”. You shudder at the thought of your arrogance in rejecting death all these years. As the hour approaches, you place your last will and testament, along with a detailed account of your long suffering, at the foot of your bed. You gobble over to your arm chair and sink in, forever tired. The clock strikes midnight. Anticipation creeping into every aching fiber of your being. Sweet sleep is coming.
But Death does not show.
Death has rejected you.
Death has abandoned you.
Death has punished you.
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[WP] The day you die, Death comes and asks if you are ready to go. Jokingly, you say no. To your surprise, he leaves. Now every year he comes back to ask again
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"Are you ready?" Death asked. His emotionless eyes stared down at me, calm and cool.
I huffed out a disagreement as a reply. "No, I didn't want to die just yet. My life just started."
Death didn't say anything, just nodded and turned away. I sucked in the breath of life, hearing the joyful gasp from my surroundings. It was a happy day.
The second time Death visited me, I was under a car, right next to the wheel. Everything around me ceased in time, only Death approached.
"Are you ready?" He asked again. The question sounded light as a feather, but it struck something heavy in my chest.
My eyes found the biggest love of my life, Alice, who was frozen in the air as she ran to my place. Her face twisted in shock and fear. "No," I said, "I'm not ready yet."
Death tilted his head, the corner of his mouth twitched. "Very well." He whispered and turned around. Death left again. I was spared one more time.
The third time I met Death, the house was on fire. Death walked through the flames like walking through silk. He crouched down next to me, asking the familiar question. "Are you ready?"
I glanced down at the leg that was crushed by the fallen closet and then brought my eyes up at Death. "I'm sorry, I'm not ready. Alice is still in her room. I need to wake her up."
Death gestured my leg. "If you go on, the rest of your life would be in pain."
"It doesn't matter." I coughed. My eyes were dry and my throat was on fire. "Alice means everything to me."
Death sighed, standing up. "We'll be seeing each other again." He left, as usual.
The fire destroyed the house. The only thing I could remember from that night besides the conversation with Death was Alice's relieved face when she found out we both survived. I had no idea how I was able to carry her out, but I managed. Somehow, I had a feeling that Death had spared us both.
Years went by, and soon enough I was old, very old. And sick. I laid still on my bed when my family gathered around. Many of them cried, and I wished I could do something about it. But I was too weak to move.
Everyone said their farewell, because they knew my time had come. I did, too. I could already feel Death's presence.
"I'm not ready yet, Death." I said, knowing Death would hear me. "Alice isn't here yet. I can't go without seeing Alice for the last time."
"Don't worry, my friend." Death's hollow voice echoed in my ears. "I'll wait with you."
And he did. I took every heavy breath carefully, stringing along my chance. Then I heard Alice's familiar footsteps. I opened my eyes to see her rushing through the door.
She called out my name, wrapping her arms around me. The warmth and scent were welcoming. This was it. This was home.
With teary eyes, Alice said her goodbye. I laid my head on her hands, taking in every word. She said she loved me. I knew that already, but my heart jumped for joy every time she did.
"I am ready, Death." I closed my eyes.
The pain, the weight, the stiff movements suddenly left my body. I opened my eyes and found myself next to Death, right behind my family. Everyone was weeping, and half of me wanted to stay. But I knew it was impossible.
"I apologize for not coming with you so many times." I said to Death.
Death shook his head. "It's fine." He patted my head. "Let's go."
I took a final glance at Alice and her family, then walked alongside with Death.
"What's next?" I asked.
"Why don't you tell me? It has always been your decision."
I thought for a moment and suggested, "I want to stay by your side, is that okay?"
Death smiled for the first time. "Who am I to refuse a good boy's request?"
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Hundreds of years have passed. Everyone you’ve known or loved has gone. The months, weeks, days, and hours tick by as you continually battle the cancer that should have taken you back in 2019. Your body is in a constant state of failure, but that bastard won’t come. “This is the year”, you tell yourself, waiting for that old familiar shadow to whisper it’s ever-repeating query. “This is the year I say yes”. You shudder at the thought of your arrogance in rejecting death all these years. As the hour approaches, you place your last will and testament, along with a detailed account of your long suffering, at the foot of your bed. You gobble over to your arm chair and sink in, forever tired. The clock strikes midnight. Anticipation creeping into every aching fiber of your being. Sweet sleep is coming.
But Death does not show.
Death has rejected you.
Death has abandoned you.
Death has punished you.
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[WP] The day you die, Death comes and asks if you are ready to go. Jokingly, you say no. To your surprise, he leaves. Now every year he comes back to ask again
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I died choking on lunch in my office. Ironic, because we’d just spent the Friday two weeks ago going over CPR and first aid procedures, but obviously that didn’t do much good. I suppose I could have done more to help myself - I have my own office, so there was no one there to see me clutching at my throat. I could have taken the few steps into the hallway, but I didn’t. I stood at my desk and tried to lodge the cucumber (cucumber! What a waste!) out by slamming myself against the top of my office chair.
Eventually, things just went black. When I came to, he was standing there, brandishing a clip board. “All right,” he said. “Ready to go?”
He didn’t fit any of the depictions of himself I’d seen on tv, but I knew right away who he was. That’s how it is with those in power though. They certainly don’t need a name tag.
I looked at my half finished salad on my desk, on top of the stack of paperwork I needed to have done for the audit next week. My boss had been in this same office just hours before, squeezing the bridge of her nose, telling me how stressed everyone was and how important finishing up those files was.
I was saying the words before I’d even thought them through - “Maybe I could just have a little extra time? To finish this up?”
Death made a mark on his clipboard and shrugged his shoulders. In a blink, he was gone. I sat back down at my desk and finished my salad.
A month later, I was fairly certain I’d fallen asleep at my desk. The cucumber that had been lodged in my throat never came out, so it made sense I’d imagined it all. By six months, I was sure it had just been a dream. I hadn’t been getting good sleep, anyway, pulling extra hours to get everything done.
A year later, though, he came again. Same clipboard. “Are you ready?”
I shook my head. Motioned to my desk again - “It seems it never stops piling up, doesn’t it?”
Death made another mark and an expression I couldn’t place. Annoyance? Pity? Again, he was gone in a blink.
And so it happened, year in and year out. He’d always show up and ask if I was ready, and I’d always point out the stack of paperwork on my desk and tell him not quite.
According to my calendar, he should be here in just a few moments. I stayed late all last week getting everything ready. I suppose after so many years, the curiosity has got the better of me.
He arrives right on time. Pulls out his clipboard, asks the standard question. This time, I put the note I wrote to my boss on my desk and stand up. “All right,” I say. “I’m ready to die.”
Death marks his clipboard and reaches one hand out to me and places it on my shoulder. “You’re ready to go now, you mean” he says. “You’ve been dead for twenty six years. Since you choked on that cucumber.”
I don’t understand what he means. Death can see my obvious confusion, and explains further: “You died the first time I came for you. You left earth as you know it at that time. You just weren’t ready to move on. You’ve been here, working away, ever since.”
“What do you mean? I’ve been here, everything has been the same. My coworkers, the Chinese food delivery guy, it’s all been there.”
“A representation of it has. But not the real people. This work, it’s not real, of course.” With a wave of his hand, the papers on my desk started to disappear. Another wave, and my desk was gone. Then the walls. Then the ceiling and the floor until we were standing in nothing.
Death pushes me forward. “You’re ready now, though” he says. “That’s all that matters.”
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Hundreds of years have passed. Everyone you’ve known or loved has gone. The months, weeks, days, and hours tick by as you continually battle the cancer that should have taken you back in 2019. Your body is in a constant state of failure, but that bastard won’t come. “This is the year”, you tell yourself, waiting for that old familiar shadow to whisper it’s ever-repeating query. “This is the year I say yes”. You shudder at the thought of your arrogance in rejecting death all these years. As the hour approaches, you place your last will and testament, along with a detailed account of your long suffering, at the foot of your bed. You gobble over to your arm chair and sink in, forever tired. The clock strikes midnight. Anticipation creeping into every aching fiber of your being. Sweet sleep is coming.
But Death does not show.
Death has rejected you.
Death has abandoned you.
Death has punished you.
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[WP] The day you die, Death comes and asks if you are ready to go. Jokingly, you say no. To your surprise, he leaves. Now every year he comes back to ask again
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"Are you ready?" Death asked. His emotionless eyes stared down at me, calm and cool.
I huffed out a disagreement as a reply. "No, I didn't want to die just yet. My life just started."
Death didn't say anything, just nodded and turned away. I sucked in the breath of life, hearing the joyful gasp from my surroundings. It was a happy day.
The second time Death visited me, I was under a car, right next to the wheel. Everything around me ceased in time, only Death approached.
"Are you ready?" He asked again. The question sounded light as a feather, but it struck something heavy in my chest.
My eyes found the biggest love of my life, Alice, who was frozen in the air as she ran to my place. Her face twisted in shock and fear. "No," I said, "I'm not ready yet."
Death tilted his head, the corner of his mouth twitched. "Very well." He whispered and turned around. Death left again. I was spared one more time.
The third time I met Death, the house was on fire. Death walked through the flames like walking through silk. He crouched down next to me, asking the familiar question. "Are you ready?"
I glanced down at the leg that was crushed by the fallen closet and then brought my eyes up at Death. "I'm sorry, I'm not ready. Alice is still in her room. I need to wake her up."
Death gestured my leg. "If you go on, the rest of your life would be in pain."
"It doesn't matter." I coughed. My eyes were dry and my throat was on fire. "Alice means everything to me."
Death sighed, standing up. "We'll be seeing each other again." He left, as usual.
The fire destroyed the house. The only thing I could remember from that night besides the conversation with Death was Alice's relieved face when she found out we both survived. I had no idea how I was able to carry her out, but I managed. Somehow, I had a feeling that Death had spared us both.
Years went by, and soon enough I was old, very old. And sick. I laid still on my bed when my family gathered around. Many of them cried, and I wished I could do something about it. But I was too weak to move.
Everyone said their farewell, because they knew my time had come. I did, too. I could already feel Death's presence.
"I'm not ready yet, Death." I said, knowing Death would hear me. "Alice isn't here yet. I can't go without seeing Alice for the last time."
"Don't worry, my friend." Death's hollow voice echoed in my ears. "I'll wait with you."
And he did. I took every heavy breath carefully, stringing along my chance. Then I heard Alice's familiar footsteps. I opened my eyes to see her rushing through the door.
She called out my name, wrapping her arms around me. The warmth and scent were welcoming. This was it. This was home.
With teary eyes, Alice said her goodbye. I laid my head on her hands, taking in every word. She said she loved me. I knew that already, but my heart jumped for joy every time she did.
"I am ready, Death." I closed my eyes.
The pain, the weight, the stiff movements suddenly left my body. I opened my eyes and found myself next to Death, right behind my family. Everyone was weeping, and half of me wanted to stay. But I knew it was impossible.
"I apologize for not coming with you so many times." I said to Death.
Death shook his head. "It's fine." He patted my head. "Let's go."
I took a final glance at Alice and her family, then walked alongside with Death.
"What's next?" I asked.
"Why don't you tell me? It has always been your decision."
I thought for a moment and suggested, "I want to stay by your side, is that okay?"
Death smiled for the first time. "Who am I to refuse a good boy's request?"
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April 6th was always a special day for Melody. Regardless of all the bad things that happened in her life, the best things happened on April 6th.
Melody was 26 when Death first appeared. She had spotted him down the hallway as she moved about her apartment. The hair on the back of her neck had stood up, but as he moved silently in her direction her tension faded from her. She didn’t know why, but she felt that this apparition was her blessing for the day, which was April 6th.
He appeared to float in a black fog as he towered over Melody. “Human, are you ready to part with your life?” Though no eyes could be seen in the apparition’s skull... she felt as though he had been cataloging each of her various scars and injuries. She could feel him bore into each horrible memory after the other. It felt as if he was telling that she had seen enough... that she had been through enough.
Melody often had trouble smiling from her heart, but when she told him that she wasn’t ready to give up yet she smiled at him easily. Without further word he disappeared from her view.
As if the world had resumed moving she moved to go answer the knock at her door. It was a younger neighbor from down the hall. He had collapsed at her door clutching his chest. Melody ran to get her phone and call an ambulance for him. She stayed by his side till they arrived, never seeing the gun tucked away in his pocket.
From then on, on April 6th, Melody always considered the visit from Death as her blessing. He asked her if she was ready to leave this world behind and when she said no... he saved her from car crashes, a murder/suicide, medication mix-ups, and much more. He never asked any more of her, but as time drew on he lingered more.
When Melody was 31 and the fated April 6th came about, she didn’t answer his question at all. In his confusion he asked her again. “Are you ready to move on from this life?” “Death, why do you continue to save my life when I am not ready to go?” There was silence that followed. His teeth clacked and grinded against each other as if words could be formed from that alone.
“You’ve... had a bad life. I was merely curious if you wanted to continue living it.” A lie. It was a strange intuition she had about the reason. Almost like the grinding of teeth was a tell that hadn’t been abandoned in more than hundreds of years. “And the truth?” She needn’t elaborate any more than that. “You are... important to me. Tell me, do you know why you suffer so?” Melody had often asked that of herself.
“When I was a girl, I dreamed of a past life.” “Tova.” Although she was taken aback by her previous name, she continued. “Yes, Tova was my name. My father was a warrior and my mother oft told tales of his greatness. When he would return from his campaigns he would adorn my room with all sorts of unique toys. He treated me like a princess and gave me all that I could ever want. However, he was a beast in sheep’s clothing. His campaigns were nothing but a cover to rape and pillage. Each toy he gave me was torn from the charred fingers of the children he murdered. Eventually, a old woman laid a curse upon him and his ilk.” The dreams were vivid like a freshly scarred memory.
“My father truly loved my mother and me, but this curse turned all of his cruelty towards us. He slayed my mother and tortured me for many years. I remember begging him to just take my life, but he couldn’t free me from his curse. The daughter who shared his blood would share his fate.”
Silence. When Melody was a child she thought this was just a crazy dream to help her cope with her situation in this life. As the silence grew she knew in this instance that it was not.
“You had a child. Tova had a child.” Her breath hitched and she could feel her veins ice over. “I did. Arylss was his name.” “It means honorable, does it not?” Melody knew now why she felt blessed on April 26th. She bore Arylss on that day. He was a shining light in a dim world. When she had started bleeding, her father sold her to a brothel and eventually she bore a ‘bastard’.
“Yes, honorable. He was my light in a dark world.” There was no visual cue that he was smiling, but she could feel it. “It was you who gave me blessings every year on April 6th wasn’t it?”
More teeth grinding. “Yes, and I reaped your father before it was his time as well.” She nodded slowly. “He will be back for another life, and you will be his daughter once more.”
“Will you be waiting for me to be reborn again?”
“Always.”
“I’m ready, Arylss.” She smiled from her heart as she looked upon him. Even if he was only bones now, he was still just as beautiful of a sight as he had been when she first laid eyes upon him after birth.
“I see...”
“Oh, and Happy Birthday my child.” She stood and softly slid he hood from his skull. Delicately she kissed his head.
With a choked grinding of teeth, “Thank you, mother.”
Note: I typed this on my phone, so I’m really sorry if there are a lot of errors.
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[WP] The day you die, Death comes and asks if you are ready to go. Jokingly, you say no. To your surprise, he leaves. Now every year he comes back to ask again
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I died choking on lunch in my office. Ironic, because we’d just spent the Friday two weeks ago going over CPR and first aid procedures, but obviously that didn’t do much good. I suppose I could have done more to help myself - I have my own office, so there was no one there to see me clutching at my throat. I could have taken the few steps into the hallway, but I didn’t. I stood at my desk and tried to lodge the cucumber (cucumber! What a waste!) out by slamming myself against the top of my office chair.
Eventually, things just went black. When I came to, he was standing there, brandishing a clip board. “All right,” he said. “Ready to go?”
He didn’t fit any of the depictions of himself I’d seen on tv, but I knew right away who he was. That’s how it is with those in power though. They certainly don’t need a name tag.
I looked at my half finished salad on my desk, on top of the stack of paperwork I needed to have done for the audit next week. My boss had been in this same office just hours before, squeezing the bridge of her nose, telling me how stressed everyone was and how important finishing up those files was.
I was saying the words before I’d even thought them through - “Maybe I could just have a little extra time? To finish this up?”
Death made a mark on his clipboard and shrugged his shoulders. In a blink, he was gone. I sat back down at my desk and finished my salad.
A month later, I was fairly certain I’d fallen asleep at my desk. The cucumber that had been lodged in my throat never came out, so it made sense I’d imagined it all. By six months, I was sure it had just been a dream. I hadn’t been getting good sleep, anyway, pulling extra hours to get everything done.
A year later, though, he came again. Same clipboard. “Are you ready?”
I shook my head. Motioned to my desk again - “It seems it never stops piling up, doesn’t it?”
Death made another mark and an expression I couldn’t place. Annoyance? Pity? Again, he was gone in a blink.
And so it happened, year in and year out. He’d always show up and ask if I was ready, and I’d always point out the stack of paperwork on my desk and tell him not quite.
According to my calendar, he should be here in just a few moments. I stayed late all last week getting everything ready. I suppose after so many years, the curiosity has got the better of me.
He arrives right on time. Pulls out his clipboard, asks the standard question. This time, I put the note I wrote to my boss on my desk and stand up. “All right,” I say. “I’m ready to die.”
Death marks his clipboard and reaches one hand out to me and places it on my shoulder. “You’re ready to go now, you mean” he says. “You’ve been dead for twenty six years. Since you choked on that cucumber.”
I don’t understand what he means. Death can see my obvious confusion, and explains further: “You died the first time I came for you. You left earth as you know it at that time. You just weren’t ready to move on. You’ve been here, working away, ever since.”
“What do you mean? I’ve been here, everything has been the same. My coworkers, the Chinese food delivery guy, it’s all been there.”
“A representation of it has. But not the real people. This work, it’s not real, of course.” With a wave of his hand, the papers on my desk started to disappear. Another wave, and my desk was gone. Then the walls. Then the ceiling and the floor until we were standing in nothing.
Death pushes me forward. “You’re ready now, though” he says. “That’s all that matters.”
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April 6th was always a special day for Melody. Regardless of all the bad things that happened in her life, the best things happened on April 6th.
Melody was 26 when Death first appeared. She had spotted him down the hallway as she moved about her apartment. The hair on the back of her neck had stood up, but as he moved silently in her direction her tension faded from her. She didn’t know why, but she felt that this apparition was her blessing for the day, which was April 6th.
He appeared to float in a black fog as he towered over Melody. “Human, are you ready to part with your life?” Though no eyes could be seen in the apparition’s skull... she felt as though he had been cataloging each of her various scars and injuries. She could feel him bore into each horrible memory after the other. It felt as if he was telling that she had seen enough... that she had been through enough.
Melody often had trouble smiling from her heart, but when she told him that she wasn’t ready to give up yet she smiled at him easily. Without further word he disappeared from her view.
As if the world had resumed moving she moved to go answer the knock at her door. It was a younger neighbor from down the hall. He had collapsed at her door clutching his chest. Melody ran to get her phone and call an ambulance for him. She stayed by his side till they arrived, never seeing the gun tucked away in his pocket.
From then on, on April 6th, Melody always considered the visit from Death as her blessing. He asked her if she was ready to leave this world behind and when she said no... he saved her from car crashes, a murder/suicide, medication mix-ups, and much more. He never asked any more of her, but as time drew on he lingered more.
When Melody was 31 and the fated April 6th came about, she didn’t answer his question at all. In his confusion he asked her again. “Are you ready to move on from this life?” “Death, why do you continue to save my life when I am not ready to go?” There was silence that followed. His teeth clacked and grinded against each other as if words could be formed from that alone.
“You’ve... had a bad life. I was merely curious if you wanted to continue living it.” A lie. It was a strange intuition she had about the reason. Almost like the grinding of teeth was a tell that hadn’t been abandoned in more than hundreds of years. “And the truth?” She needn’t elaborate any more than that. “You are... important to me. Tell me, do you know why you suffer so?” Melody had often asked that of herself.
“When I was a girl, I dreamed of a past life.” “Tova.” Although she was taken aback by her previous name, she continued. “Yes, Tova was my name. My father was a warrior and my mother oft told tales of his greatness. When he would return from his campaigns he would adorn my room with all sorts of unique toys. He treated me like a princess and gave me all that I could ever want. However, he was a beast in sheep’s clothing. His campaigns were nothing but a cover to rape and pillage. Each toy he gave me was torn from the charred fingers of the children he murdered. Eventually, a old woman laid a curse upon him and his ilk.” The dreams were vivid like a freshly scarred memory.
“My father truly loved my mother and me, but this curse turned all of his cruelty towards us. He slayed my mother and tortured me for many years. I remember begging him to just take my life, but he couldn’t free me from his curse. The daughter who shared his blood would share his fate.”
Silence. When Melody was a child she thought this was just a crazy dream to help her cope with her situation in this life. As the silence grew she knew in this instance that it was not.
“You had a child. Tova had a child.” Her breath hitched and she could feel her veins ice over. “I did. Arylss was his name.” “It means honorable, does it not?” Melody knew now why she felt blessed on April 26th. She bore Arylss on that day. He was a shining light in a dim world. When she had started bleeding, her father sold her to a brothel and eventually she bore a ‘bastard’.
“Yes, honorable. He was my light in a dark world.” There was no visual cue that he was smiling, but she could feel it. “It was you who gave me blessings every year on April 6th wasn’t it?”
More teeth grinding. “Yes, and I reaped your father before it was his time as well.” She nodded slowly. “He will be back for another life, and you will be his daughter once more.”
“Will you be waiting for me to be reborn again?”
“Always.”
“I’m ready, Arylss.” She smiled from her heart as she looked upon him. Even if he was only bones now, he was still just as beautiful of a sight as he had been when she first laid eyes upon him after birth.
“I see...”
“Oh, and Happy Birthday my child.” She stood and softly slid he hood from his skull. Delicately she kissed his head.
With a choked grinding of teeth, “Thank you, mother.”
Note: I typed this on my phone, so I’m really sorry if there are a lot of errors.
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[WP] The day you die, Death comes and asks if you are ready to go. Jokingly, you say no. To your surprise, he leaves. Now every year he comes back to ask again
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"Are you ready?" Death asked. His emotionless eyes stared down at me, calm and cool.
I huffed out a disagreement as a reply. "No, I didn't want to die just yet. My life just started."
Death didn't say anything, just nodded and turned away. I sucked in the breath of life, hearing the joyful gasp from my surroundings. It was a happy day.
The second time Death visited me, I was under a car, right next to the wheel. Everything around me ceased in time, only Death approached.
"Are you ready?" He asked again. The question sounded light as a feather, but it struck something heavy in my chest.
My eyes found the biggest love of my life, Alice, who was frozen in the air as she ran to my place. Her face twisted in shock and fear. "No," I said, "I'm not ready yet."
Death tilted his head, the corner of his mouth twitched. "Very well." He whispered and turned around. Death left again. I was spared one more time.
The third time I met Death, the house was on fire. Death walked through the flames like walking through silk. He crouched down next to me, asking the familiar question. "Are you ready?"
I glanced down at the leg that was crushed by the fallen closet and then brought my eyes up at Death. "I'm sorry, I'm not ready. Alice is still in her room. I need to wake her up."
Death gestured my leg. "If you go on, the rest of your life would be in pain."
"It doesn't matter." I coughed. My eyes were dry and my throat was on fire. "Alice means everything to me."
Death sighed, standing up. "We'll be seeing each other again." He left, as usual.
The fire destroyed the house. The only thing I could remember from that night besides the conversation with Death was Alice's relieved face when she found out we both survived. I had no idea how I was able to carry her out, but I managed. Somehow, I had a feeling that Death had spared us both.
Years went by, and soon enough I was old, very old. And sick. I laid still on my bed when my family gathered around. Many of them cried, and I wished I could do something about it. But I was too weak to move.
Everyone said their farewell, because they knew my time had come. I did, too. I could already feel Death's presence.
"I'm not ready yet, Death." I said, knowing Death would hear me. "Alice isn't here yet. I can't go without seeing Alice for the last time."
"Don't worry, my friend." Death's hollow voice echoed in my ears. "I'll wait with you."
And he did. I took every heavy breath carefully, stringing along my chance. Then I heard Alice's familiar footsteps. I opened my eyes to see her rushing through the door.
She called out my name, wrapping her arms around me. The warmth and scent were welcoming. This was it. This was home.
With teary eyes, Alice said her goodbye. I laid my head on her hands, taking in every word. She said she loved me. I knew that already, but my heart jumped for joy every time she did.
"I am ready, Death." I closed my eyes.
The pain, the weight, the stiff movements suddenly left my body. I opened my eyes and found myself next to Death, right behind my family. Everyone was weeping, and half of me wanted to stay. But I knew it was impossible.
"I apologize for not coming with you so many times." I said to Death.
Death shook his head. "It's fine." He patted my head. "Let's go."
I took a final glance at Alice and her family, then walked alongside with Death.
"What's next?" I asked.
"Why don't you tell me? It has always been your decision."
I thought for a moment and suggested, "I want to stay by your side, is that okay?"
Death smiled for the first time. "Who am I to refuse a good boy's request?"
|
The first time I died, it was an accident. I was crossing the road, and someone ran the lights.
I woke up and saw my body lying on the ground in front of me.
The man who had hit me had leapt out of his car, his hand over his mouth in shock and horror.
Some passers-by rushed to my body, lying still on the ground, with just a trickle of blood running out of my nose. Someone attempted chest compressions.
I felt a presence beside me. Not a dark, evil lingering, but one with an air of calmness. I turned to see the Grim Reaper standing there, cloaked and hooded. Dark mist rolled around his feet. He gestured gently.*"Are you ready to go?"* his voice rang like the tolling of a church bell.
I chuckled to myself.
*"Not really! I'm only 24."*
*"As you wish."* the figure faded away.
I blinked in surprise, and everything faded to black. When I came to consciousness I was in a hospital bed, surrounded by my tearful parents and siblings. They told me I had been hit by a car, but the lady giving me CPR had kept me alive until the ambulance came.
I didn't tell them what I had seen.
The next time I died, I was 67. It must have been a heart attack, they're hereditary in my family. I saw myself lying in bed beside my wife, both of us looked asleep. I felt the same presence again as before and turned to see him.
*"Are you ready to go?"* he asked again, just as he had before. I looked at my wife, lying there peacefully. I glanced back at him and swallowed nervously.
*"It seems a shame to go like this...I'd hate her to wake and find me..."*
He waited ever-patiently for me to continue.
*"...No. Not yet. Thank-you."*
*"As you wish."* he faded away.
Again, I blinked and found myself back in my bed, beside my wife. I gently held her in my arms, and drifted back to sleep.
The third time I died, it was just old age. I was 92.
*"Are you ready to go?"* Grim rumbled once more.
I still felt like there was more to be done.
*"Not yet"* I told him.
*"As you wish."* again, he vanished like mist at sunrise.
Every year, he would return. Every year I would politely decline. Years continued to pass.
I watched my wife and siblings pass away, my children grew old, grandchildren were born and grew old as well. I amazed everyone with my longevity, and broke many world records, but I was happy with the rest of my family.
Finally, when I reached 200 years, I saw him again on his annual visit. I was in my room, as always nowadays, surrounded by the photos of my extended family.
*"Are you ready to go?"*
I looked at the photographs of my great-grandchildren's faces. I looked at the photographs of my brothers and sisters, my mother and father. I looked at the photos of my children, when they were young. I looked at the photograph of my dear wife...and I felt tired.
*"...Yes."* I replied, *"I think I'm ready now."*
*"As you wish."*
Death raised his scythe and brought it down with a flash of light. The thin thread of light connecting me to my body was cut cleanly. I blinked and saw a arched doorway beside me. Death offered me his hand.
*"Thank-you...I'm not as steady as I used to be, though you'd know, of course..."* I laughed a little nervously.
His hood raised to look at me, and I saw a glimmer of blue within the depths.
*"She's waiting for you."* he told me solemnly.
I swallowed, my eyes welling up.
*"Thank-you"*, I whispered.
I held his gaze for a moment, then we walked through the arch together…and we faded away.
​
\-----------------
​
My first story for this subreddit. I've not written in a long time, so it's nice to brush off the cobwebs! :)
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[WP] The day you die, Death comes and asks if you are ready to go. Jokingly, you say no. To your surprise, he leaves. Now every year he comes back to ask again
|
I died choking on lunch in my office. Ironic, because we’d just spent the Friday two weeks ago going over CPR and first aid procedures, but obviously that didn’t do much good. I suppose I could have done more to help myself - I have my own office, so there was no one there to see me clutching at my throat. I could have taken the few steps into the hallway, but I didn’t. I stood at my desk and tried to lodge the cucumber (cucumber! What a waste!) out by slamming myself against the top of my office chair.
Eventually, things just went black. When I came to, he was standing there, brandishing a clip board. “All right,” he said. “Ready to go?”
He didn’t fit any of the depictions of himself I’d seen on tv, but I knew right away who he was. That’s how it is with those in power though. They certainly don’t need a name tag.
I looked at my half finished salad on my desk, on top of the stack of paperwork I needed to have done for the audit next week. My boss had been in this same office just hours before, squeezing the bridge of her nose, telling me how stressed everyone was and how important finishing up those files was.
I was saying the words before I’d even thought them through - “Maybe I could just have a little extra time? To finish this up?”
Death made a mark on his clipboard and shrugged his shoulders. In a blink, he was gone. I sat back down at my desk and finished my salad.
A month later, I was fairly certain I’d fallen asleep at my desk. The cucumber that had been lodged in my throat never came out, so it made sense I’d imagined it all. By six months, I was sure it had just been a dream. I hadn’t been getting good sleep, anyway, pulling extra hours to get everything done.
A year later, though, he came again. Same clipboard. “Are you ready?”
I shook my head. Motioned to my desk again - “It seems it never stops piling up, doesn’t it?”
Death made another mark and an expression I couldn’t place. Annoyance? Pity? Again, he was gone in a blink.
And so it happened, year in and year out. He’d always show up and ask if I was ready, and I’d always point out the stack of paperwork on my desk and tell him not quite.
According to my calendar, he should be here in just a few moments. I stayed late all last week getting everything ready. I suppose after so many years, the curiosity has got the better of me.
He arrives right on time. Pulls out his clipboard, asks the standard question. This time, I put the note I wrote to my boss on my desk and stand up. “All right,” I say. “I’m ready to die.”
Death marks his clipboard and reaches one hand out to me and places it on my shoulder. “You’re ready to go now, you mean” he says. “You’ve been dead for twenty six years. Since you choked on that cucumber.”
I don’t understand what he means. Death can see my obvious confusion, and explains further: “You died the first time I came for you. You left earth as you know it at that time. You just weren’t ready to move on. You’ve been here, working away, ever since.”
“What do you mean? I’ve been here, everything has been the same. My coworkers, the Chinese food delivery guy, it’s all been there.”
“A representation of it has. But not the real people. This work, it’s not real, of course.” With a wave of his hand, the papers on my desk started to disappear. Another wave, and my desk was gone. Then the walls. Then the ceiling and the floor until we were standing in nothing.
Death pushes me forward. “You’re ready now, though” he says. “That’s all that matters.”
|
The first time I died, it was an accident. I was crossing the road, and someone ran the lights.
I woke up and saw my body lying on the ground in front of me.
The man who had hit me had leapt out of his car, his hand over his mouth in shock and horror.
Some passers-by rushed to my body, lying still on the ground, with just a trickle of blood running out of my nose. Someone attempted chest compressions.
I felt a presence beside me. Not a dark, evil lingering, but one with an air of calmness. I turned to see the Grim Reaper standing there, cloaked and hooded. Dark mist rolled around his feet. He gestured gently.*"Are you ready to go?"* his voice rang like the tolling of a church bell.
I chuckled to myself.
*"Not really! I'm only 24."*
*"As you wish."* the figure faded away.
I blinked in surprise, and everything faded to black. When I came to consciousness I was in a hospital bed, surrounded by my tearful parents and siblings. They told me I had been hit by a car, but the lady giving me CPR had kept me alive until the ambulance came.
I didn't tell them what I had seen.
The next time I died, I was 67. It must have been a heart attack, they're hereditary in my family. I saw myself lying in bed beside my wife, both of us looked asleep. I felt the same presence again as before and turned to see him.
*"Are you ready to go?"* he asked again, just as he had before. I looked at my wife, lying there peacefully. I glanced back at him and swallowed nervously.
*"It seems a shame to go like this...I'd hate her to wake and find me..."*
He waited ever-patiently for me to continue.
*"...No. Not yet. Thank-you."*
*"As you wish."* he faded away.
Again, I blinked and found myself back in my bed, beside my wife. I gently held her in my arms, and drifted back to sleep.
The third time I died, it was just old age. I was 92.
*"Are you ready to go?"* Grim rumbled once more.
I still felt like there was more to be done.
*"Not yet"* I told him.
*"As you wish."* again, he vanished like mist at sunrise.
Every year, he would return. Every year I would politely decline. Years continued to pass.
I watched my wife and siblings pass away, my children grew old, grandchildren were born and grew old as well. I amazed everyone with my longevity, and broke many world records, but I was happy with the rest of my family.
Finally, when I reached 200 years, I saw him again on his annual visit. I was in my room, as always nowadays, surrounded by the photos of my extended family.
*"Are you ready to go?"*
I looked at the photographs of my great-grandchildren's faces. I looked at the photographs of my brothers and sisters, my mother and father. I looked at the photos of my children, when they were young. I looked at the photograph of my dear wife...and I felt tired.
*"...Yes."* I replied, *"I think I'm ready now."*
*"As you wish."*
Death raised his scythe and brought it down with a flash of light. The thin thread of light connecting me to my body was cut cleanly. I blinked and saw a arched doorway beside me. Death offered me his hand.
*"Thank-you...I'm not as steady as I used to be, though you'd know, of course..."* I laughed a little nervously.
His hood raised to look at me, and I saw a glimmer of blue within the depths.
*"She's waiting for you."* he told me solemnly.
I swallowed, my eyes welling up.
*"Thank-you"*, I whispered.
I held his gaze for a moment, then we walked through the arch together…and we faded away.
​
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​
My first story for this subreddit. I've not written in a long time, so it's nice to brush off the cobwebs! :)
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