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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 stood in a white void facing a hooded figure, confused and somewhat scared.*
*“Where am I?” I asked the figure. “Are you the grim reaper?”*
*“Yep. I’m sorry to say this, man, but, well, you’re dead. You really should have looked both ways before you crossed that busy street...” He replied, shrugging.*
*“Damn, really? That’s so lame...” I groaned. “Man, I haven’t even gotten laid yet. This is so uncool...”*
*“Yeah, well, that’s life for ya.” He chuckled, extending his pale hand towards me. “Ready to head up to heaven?”*
*“Nah.” I replied, looking at him right where I thought his eyes would be under his hood.*
*“Wait, seriously?” He seemed taken aback.*
*“Yeah.”*
*“Oh, uh, okay. Shit, I’ve never had anyone say no before. Guess I’ll just send you back...” He snapped his fingers, and I found myself lying in a hospital bed, covered in bandages and IV tubes. My girlfriend began crying into my chest when she saw that I had woken up...*
Every year after that fateful day, the Grim Reaper would come and visit me wherever I was. He always came at the most inopportune times, always asking me if I wanted to go to heaven. Once, he popped into existence in my bedroom while my girlfriend and I were ‘busy’. Another year, he interrupted me while I was in the middle of a job interview. He even caused my poor mother to have a heart attack when he appeared during Thanksgiving dinner. After that particular incident, I decided that enough was enough.
One night, after my girlfriend was asleep, he appeared to me in my living room, where I was waiting for him with a bottle of beer.
“Hey, man. Are you finally ready to go?”
“The answer’s still no, brah. I have a pretty bomb-ass life right now, but there is one thing that I don’t like about it, and that’s you. You keep annoying the shit out of me every year with that same damn question, man, and the answer’s always gonna be no.” I took a swig of my beer.
“I see. Why don’t I just make you immortal, then?” He asked me. “Then you’ll never have to see me again. Granted, I don’t know if you’d want to-“
“Do it.” I interrupted him demandingly. “Do whatever you need to do, as long as you stay the hell outta my life.”
“Alright. Don’t say I didn’t try to warn you...” He snapped his fingers again, vanishing from my life for the last time.
Not long after he vanished, the world fell into utter chaos. All the global tension that had been building up since before I was born had finally reached a boiling point, and every country on earth was obliterated in a horrible nuclear firestorm in a matter of hours. I could only stare in horror at the destruction and death that occurred around me as all my loved ones and the rest of planet earth were atomized out of existence.
Once the bombs stopped falling, I was alone. Alone on a desolate hellscape that I used to call home, with nobody to talk to except myself. Everyone I knew and loved was dead, and I couldn’t do a damn thing about it.
“I shoulda said yes...”
|
[Poem]
Tim was a man who lived a simple life,
All he wished for was to be happy and light.
So when he took to the skies for the sky-high dive,
He forgot to pull, leaving him barely alive.
An old man in black approaching, robes tattered
Tim now knew notting mattered.
What he didn’t expect, grieving in woe,
He kept muttering out, a simple “No”.
Death stood, with his beard overgrown
Smiling said “Sure.” and left him alone.
Confused, hurt and bleeding,
Tim felt like sleeping.
.
.
.
Tim awoke, in a room of white
He felt dizzy and high as a kite.
The doctors exclamed “A miracle of technology, this was!”
But Tim knew, deep down, that probably wasn’t the only cause.
He continued his life, feeling alright
Finally finding the one to make his wife.
On the day of his wedding, death visited in navy
A sharp looking suit, looking all savvy
Blended in the crowd, he called out
And Tim went to meet him, his time left was surely too little to count.
But all it took was to ask him a question,
For Tim to decide his fate, and ease the tension.
Shocked, relieved, happy and hyped
This was truly the happiest day of his life.
.
.
.
Tim had kids to care for during the years,
But still had time to listen and hear.
Everytime he was asked,
He still answered the same, “I’ll pass.”
“I want to live and see the sights”
“And live with my family, away from heights”
Death nodded, and took his leave
But one year Tim stopped him, grabbing him by the sleeve.
“Why are you doing this?” He asked.
“It’s simple, really.” Death said, now wearing his mask.
“Your stupid death made some gods laugh, telling me to not kill you yet.”
“Wait what the fuck” Tim said, expecting his answer not to be met.
“I’m not kidding, but it’s a lot more complicated”
Tim was then left, his eyes filled with hatred.
With all of his might, he threw one finger to the skies
.
.
.
And then Timmy fucking died.
(No I’m not u/poem_for_your_sprog , but the chance to end it like this tempted me lol. If you guys want me to write another version, let me know.)
(Also sorry for the bad English)
|
|
[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?"
|
[Poem]
Tim was a man who lived a simple life,
All he wished for was to be happy and light.
So when he took to the skies for the sky-high dive,
He forgot to pull, leaving him barely alive.
An old man in black approaching, robes tattered
Tim now knew notting mattered.
What he didn’t expect, grieving in woe,
He kept muttering out, a simple “No”.
Death stood, with his beard overgrown
Smiling said “Sure.” and left him alone.
Confused, hurt and bleeding,
Tim felt like sleeping.
.
.
.
Tim awoke, in a room of white
He felt dizzy and high as a kite.
The doctors exclamed “A miracle of technology, this was!”
But Tim knew, deep down, that probably wasn’t the only cause.
He continued his life, feeling alright
Finally finding the one to make his wife.
On the day of his wedding, death visited in navy
A sharp looking suit, looking all savvy
Blended in the crowd, he called out
And Tim went to meet him, his time left was surely too little to count.
But all it took was to ask him a question,
For Tim to decide his fate, and ease the tension.
Shocked, relieved, happy and hyped
This was truly the happiest day of his life.
.
.
.
Tim had kids to care for during the years,
But still had time to listen and hear.
Everytime he was asked,
He still answered the same, “I’ll pass.”
“I want to live and see the sights”
“And live with my family, away from heights”
Death nodded, and took his leave
But one year Tim stopped him, grabbing him by the sleeve.
“Why are you doing this?” He asked.
“It’s simple, really.” Death said, now wearing his mask.
“Your stupid death made some gods laugh, telling me to not kill you yet.”
“Wait what the fuck” Tim said, expecting his answer not to be met.
“I’m not kidding, but it’s a lot more complicated”
Tim was then left, his eyes filled with hatred.
With all of his might, he threw one finger to the skies
.
.
.
And then Timmy fucking died.
(No I’m not u/poem_for_your_sprog , but the chance to end it like this tempted me lol. If you guys want me to write another version, let me know.)
(Also sorry for the bad English)
|
|
[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
|
As we age through time, we all gain and lose a precious thing or two. Our physiques might deteriorate, hairs may fall out like leaves during autumn, yet through those turbulent seasons we all find something amidst our losses: Wisdom, and most certainly patience. George Fitzpatrick, a senior in his eighties, was keen on his patience. Since his wife had passed many years ago, George spent his lonesome days rocking back and forth on his chair, looking out from his porch over the South Dakota plains. He was always expecting a guest to visit, and it’s been a couple months since his son, Robert, has dropped by. He had promised to come again as soon as he could, and thus, the man waited and waited. On the second of June, a certain visitor came. However, it wasn’t quite who Mr. Fitzpatrick was expecting.
“Robert, is that you?” The old timer guessed, tilting his head as he heard the wood creak under the pressure of unfamiliar footsteps.
“I’m afraid I’m not Robert, Mr. Fitzpatrick.” An unknown voice replied. After all the things the senior man has lived through, there was little left that could surprise him. Nevertheless, there was without a doubt a concerned, almost frightened look as he directly gazed at an unknown young man, wearing a completely black suit with completely black socks under similarly black trousers, donning a fully black tie and most definitely an equally black shirt, with buttons just as black.
​
“Can I help you, young man?” George asked as he looked the uninvited guest into his black eyes. “Perhaps a cup of tea?” He added.
“Oh, thank you for your hospitality, but I would have to politely decline” the unfamiliar figure replied.
“I didn’t do anything wrong now, did I?” George responded with a worried tone. How did he know his name? As far as old Mr. Fitzpatrick knew, he filed his taxes on time and always paid his bills long before their due date.
“Nothing at all.” The figure simpered. “Ah, where are my manners? My name is Azrael. I’m here to tell you that your time has come, or rather, I have.”
“My time…? I’m sorry, I don’t think I quite understand.”
“That is fine, Mr. Fitzpatrick. It is very confusing, after all.” Azrael admitted before looking at his completely black watch, carefully observing their completely black pointers.
“In about thirty-eight seconds, you are to pass away from cardiac arrest. It doesn’t hurt, so don’t worry. I’m here to bring you to Mr. Peter as he is very punctual about his appointments, so we have little time to waste. Twenty-seven seconds now, to be precise.”
“I’m sorry Azrael, but I’m afraid I can’t quite do that.” George replied calmly, despite fully understanding what ominous words were just spoken to him.
“Hmm, very well then. What is another year, anyway?” The angel nodded with a hearty laugh before turning away.
“Are you sure you sure you don’t want any tea?”
“Maybe next time, Mr. Fitzpatrick. I’m on a tight schedule, so I’ll have to be going now. Ta-dah.” Azrael’s words resounded before disappearing around the corner.
​
Bewildered by what had just occurred, George returned his sight to the stretches of green in front of him, wondering if the breeze that was there moments earlier, brought along that peculiar fellow.
As time passed by like the cascading currents of the Missouri river yonder, George patiently, yet adamantly awaited his son to visit him. 365 days later, a visitor came. As the senior heard the completely black shoes tap their soles against the wood, Mr. Fitzpatrick seemed to show disappointment instead of bewilderment this time around.
“Hello again, Mr. Fitzpatrick” Azrael spoke from under a black and cool shade, perfectly complimenting his completely black hair. “I see you are in low spirits today? I hope I am not the cause of it.”
“Oh… not quite. I was expecting someone else, but you’re hardly to blame for that. How about a cup of tea now?” The senior offered a second time.
“Delightfully kind of you, but I’m afraid I’ll have to pass on the offer. Are you ready to come along now?”
“I’m so sorry Azrael… I must look like a stubborn old mule to you, but I’m afraid I’ll have to say no again.” George apologized as he shook his head.
“Oh well, until next year then. “ The being spoke before vanishing into thin air.
“Are you sure you don’t want that cup of tea?” George asked once more, but his words were aimed towards the wind.
​
A handful of years passed by and on every second of June, this conversation would repeat for a second or two. As of today, seven years had gone by since their first encounter. George had come to learn that his punctual visitor would always arrive dead on the noon, right as the clock jumped to 12:00
“Hello again.” A voice was heard, right on the second it was to be expected.
“Ah, hello Azrael.” George replied.
“I’m sorry, Mr Fitzpatrick - I know I’m not the one you were expecting, but I do think you know what I’m here for.”
“Oh, but I was expecting you! I’ve already taken the liberty to set some tea for you. I know how busy you are: You wouldn’t wear a suit if you weren't.” George smiled as poured a cup for his visitor and himself.
“Did you now? I wasn’t quite expecting that, but quite the keen eyes you got there, Mr. Fitzpatrick.” The angel chuckled. “ I am indeed driven by the clock.”
“What’s with the formality?” George laughed. “It’s been a couple years now. Call me George, but I do want you to sit down and share this with me.”
“Hmm, very well then, there’s still some time left. The wonders of modern medicine, right? Those freed up minutes sure are God’s blessing.” Azrael quipped as he sat down in the chair across his old acquaintance.
“Hey, if you don’t mind me asking, why does such a punctual and diligent fellow such as yourself turn a blind eye to an old geezer like me? George inquired curiously.
“George, dear George!” Azrael beamed with joy “Out of all millennia, you are the first one to offer me a cup of tea!” He explained before gleefully moving the beverage to his completely black lips, leaning in for a sip. “Absolutely splendid blend, I must say. I just adore black tea.”
“Do you want another fill, then?”
“I’d love to, but I don’t think I have the time for that. I do want to ask you one question, in return though.”
“Sure thing, Azrael. As long as I know the answer, I’d be happy to tell you.”
“I know it’s not my place to ask, but who is it you were exactly waiting for?” The angel asked with a curious look on his face. As soon as the words entered Mr. Fitzpatrick’s ears, the old man turned away, simpering as he looked over at the fields he has been staring at for the past few decades.
“It’s Robert… my son, you see. He promised to visit me for a while now, so I’m still waiting for him to come.”
“Oh Heavens above!" Azrael exclaimed. "Why didn’t you just tell me straight away? Come, I’ll take you right to him!”
|
[Poem]
Tim was a man who lived a simple life,
All he wished for was to be happy and light.
So when he took to the skies for the sky-high dive,
He forgot to pull, leaving him barely alive.
An old man in black approaching, robes tattered
Tim now knew notting mattered.
What he didn’t expect, grieving in woe,
He kept muttering out, a simple “No”.
Death stood, with his beard overgrown
Smiling said “Sure.” and left him alone.
Confused, hurt and bleeding,
Tim felt like sleeping.
.
.
.
Tim awoke, in a room of white
He felt dizzy and high as a kite.
The doctors exclamed “A miracle of technology, this was!”
But Tim knew, deep down, that probably wasn’t the only cause.
He continued his life, feeling alright
Finally finding the one to make his wife.
On the day of his wedding, death visited in navy
A sharp looking suit, looking all savvy
Blended in the crowd, he called out
And Tim went to meet him, his time left was surely too little to count.
But all it took was to ask him a question,
For Tim to decide his fate, and ease the tension.
Shocked, relieved, happy and hyped
This was truly the happiest day of his life.
.
.
.
Tim had kids to care for during the years,
But still had time to listen and hear.
Everytime he was asked,
He still answered the same, “I’ll pass.”
“I want to live and see the sights”
“And live with my family, away from heights”
Death nodded, and took his leave
But one year Tim stopped him, grabbing him by the sleeve.
“Why are you doing this?” He asked.
“It’s simple, really.” Death said, now wearing his mask.
“Your stupid death made some gods laugh, telling me to not kill you yet.”
“Wait what the fuck” Tim said, expecting his answer not to be met.
“I’m not kidding, but it’s a lot more complicated”
Tim was then left, his eyes filled with hatred.
With all of his might, he threw one finger to the skies
.
.
.
And then Timmy fucking died.
(No I’m not u/poem_for_your_sprog , but the chance to end it like this tempted me lol. If you guys want me to write another version, let me know.)
(Also sorry for the bad English)
|
|
[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
|
Its been many years since I told Death no. My job was not complete. I needed to be there for him. Every year Death came back but i was still needed. I watched him grow you see. He was just a little boy when we first met and it was my job to take care him. Everyday we would watch the world turn. I was there when his girlfriend left him. I was the one in his car on his first drive alone. I was the one by his side when his mother died. Some called me unnatural for living too long. I've outlived many of my friends but they all needed their rest. But as I watched him lie there on the bed I knew it was my time to say yes. I walked up to my boy and lied down next to him. His last words were the ones I needed to hear before I left with Death. "You've been a good boy Max but I'm afraid this is goodbye." I watched Death come and get my boy. This wasn't going to be goodbye just yet. I looked at Death and nodded my head. Wagging my tail I ran after my boy into the light at the end of the tunnel.
|
[Poem]
Tim was a man who lived a simple life,
All he wished for was to be happy and light.
So when he took to the skies for the sky-high dive,
He forgot to pull, leaving him barely alive.
An old man in black approaching, robes tattered
Tim now knew notting mattered.
What he didn’t expect, grieving in woe,
He kept muttering out, a simple “No”.
Death stood, with his beard overgrown
Smiling said “Sure.” and left him alone.
Confused, hurt and bleeding,
Tim felt like sleeping.
.
.
.
Tim awoke, in a room of white
He felt dizzy and high as a kite.
The doctors exclamed “A miracle of technology, this was!”
But Tim knew, deep down, that probably wasn’t the only cause.
He continued his life, feeling alright
Finally finding the one to make his wife.
On the day of his wedding, death visited in navy
A sharp looking suit, looking all savvy
Blended in the crowd, he called out
And Tim went to meet him, his time left was surely too little to count.
But all it took was to ask him a question,
For Tim to decide his fate, and ease the tension.
Shocked, relieved, happy and hyped
This was truly the happiest day of his life.
.
.
.
Tim had kids to care for during the years,
But still had time to listen and hear.
Everytime he was asked,
He still answered the same, “I’ll pass.”
“I want to live and see the sights”
“And live with my family, away from heights”
Death nodded, and took his leave
But one year Tim stopped him, grabbing him by the sleeve.
“Why are you doing this?” He asked.
“It’s simple, really.” Death said, now wearing his mask.
“Your stupid death made some gods laugh, telling me to not kill you yet.”
“Wait what the fuck” Tim said, expecting his answer not to be met.
“I’m not kidding, but it’s a lot more complicated”
Tim was then left, his eyes filled with hatred.
With all of his might, he threw one finger to the skies
.
.
.
And then Timmy fucking died.
(No I’m not u/poem_for_your_sprog , but the chance to end it like this tempted me lol. If you guys want me to write another version, let me know.)
(Also sorry for the bad English)
|
|
[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.”
|
[Poem]
Tim was a man who lived a simple life,
All he wished for was to be happy and light.
So when he took to the skies for the sky-high dive,
He forgot to pull, leaving him barely alive.
An old man in black approaching, robes tattered
Tim now knew notting mattered.
What he didn’t expect, grieving in woe,
He kept muttering out, a simple “No”.
Death stood, with his beard overgrown
Smiling said “Sure.” and left him alone.
Confused, hurt and bleeding,
Tim felt like sleeping.
.
.
.
Tim awoke, in a room of white
He felt dizzy and high as a kite.
The doctors exclamed “A miracle of technology, this was!”
But Tim knew, deep down, that probably wasn’t the only cause.
He continued his life, feeling alright
Finally finding the one to make his wife.
On the day of his wedding, death visited in navy
A sharp looking suit, looking all savvy
Blended in the crowd, he called out
And Tim went to meet him, his time left was surely too little to count.
But all it took was to ask him a question,
For Tim to decide his fate, and ease the tension.
Shocked, relieved, happy and hyped
This was truly the happiest day of his life.
.
.
.
Tim had kids to care for during the years,
But still had time to listen and hear.
Everytime he was asked,
He still answered the same, “I’ll pass.”
“I want to live and see the sights”
“And live with my family, away from heights”
Death nodded, and took his leave
But one year Tim stopped him, grabbing him by the sleeve.
“Why are you doing this?” He asked.
“It’s simple, really.” Death said, now wearing his mask.
“Your stupid death made some gods laugh, telling me to not kill you yet.”
“Wait what the fuck” Tim said, expecting his answer not to be met.
“I’m not kidding, but it’s a lot more complicated”
Tim was then left, his eyes filled with hatred.
With all of his might, he threw one finger to the skies
.
.
.
And then Timmy fucking died.
(No I’m not u/poem_for_your_sprog , but the chance to end it like this tempted me lol. If you guys want me to write another version, let me know.)
(Also sorry for the bad English)
|
|
[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 came for me, dark and grim,
Come, its time for you to go.
I looked at it, shaking with fear,
And all I said was no.
I still have much to do,
I still have much to see,
Please give me some more time,
All I can ask from thee.
It looked at me and shook its head,
You humans are all the same.
What is it that you want to achieve,
Is it money, or love, or fame?
All of them, I shouted out,
I still haven't had my shot.
All I need is twelve months,
So my life is not just naught.
One year, that's what you get,
I'll come back for you then.
You better be ready for me,
lets not repeat this again.
I live my life, I do what I want,
visit the places I always wanted to.
Make some money, meet someone,
finally know a love that is true.
It comes back for me after a year,
come then, you had your time.
You don't belong to this world now,
Staying more would be a crime.
I break down, crying at its feet,
I just met the love of my life.
Give me just some more time,
I just want to make her my wife.
You humans... It sneers at me,
fine, you get another chance.
But just one more year,
let's not repeat this dance.
I fall at its feet, crying with joy,
Thank you, from bottom of my heart.
I will forever be in your debt,
I cried out, watching it depart.
Like clockwork, it was back again,
as soon as a year had passed.
I cried and fell at its feet again,
one more chance, this year was too fast.
My wife is pregnant, a child on the way,
All I want is just one more chance.
To lay eyes on my daughter one time,
Just for a moment, just one glance.
It looks at me, the eyes hollow,
your pit of desires will never end.
I grant you your wish, I do,
to eternal life, thee, I condemn.
********
As the centuries have passed,
I have seen it around, scythe in hand.
Always hoping, always wishing,
hoping I was the next, my life damned.
But it always passed me by,
with an evil smile, on its bony face.
Everyone I care about is dead,
Alone, all I wish for is the reaper's grace.
Alas! It never comes for me,
as I grow weaker and weaker.
Just sitting there wishing for death,
wishing for one chance to see her.
Can we go now? Is it my time?
Please, I have had enough.
I don't want to live any longer,
every day gets more tough.
Why? I thought you loved life,
it says face pulled in a sneer.
No, this is what you wanted,
now, this is your cross to bear.
It disappears again, leaving me alone,
I cry and cry, and then cry some more.
Nothing to do, humanity is dead,
just me slumped on my floor.
|
[Poem]
Tim was a man who lived a simple life,
All he wished for was to be happy and light.
So when he took to the skies for the sky-high dive,
He forgot to pull, leaving him barely alive.
An old man in black approaching, robes tattered
Tim now knew notting mattered.
What he didn’t expect, grieving in woe,
He kept muttering out, a simple “No”.
Death stood, with his beard overgrown
Smiling said “Sure.” and left him alone.
Confused, hurt and bleeding,
Tim felt like sleeping.
.
.
.
Tim awoke, in a room of white
He felt dizzy and high as a kite.
The doctors exclamed “A miracle of technology, this was!”
But Tim knew, deep down, that probably wasn’t the only cause.
He continued his life, feeling alright
Finally finding the one to make his wife.
On the day of his wedding, death visited in navy
A sharp looking suit, looking all savvy
Blended in the crowd, he called out
And Tim went to meet him, his time left was surely too little to count.
But all it took was to ask him a question,
For Tim to decide his fate, and ease the tension.
Shocked, relieved, happy and hyped
This was truly the happiest day of his life.
.
.
.
Tim had kids to care for during the years,
But still had time to listen and hear.
Everytime he was asked,
He still answered the same, “I’ll pass.”
“I want to live and see the sights”
“And live with my family, away from heights”
Death nodded, and took his leave
But one year Tim stopped him, grabbing him by the sleeve.
“Why are you doing this?” He asked.
“It’s simple, really.” Death said, now wearing his mask.
“Your stupid death made some gods laugh, telling me to not kill you yet.”
“Wait what the fuck” Tim said, expecting his answer not to be met.
“I’m not kidding, but it’s a lot more complicated”
Tim was then left, his eyes filled with hatred.
With all of his might, he threw one finger to the skies
.
.
.
And then Timmy fucking died.
(No I’m not u/poem_for_your_sprog , but the chance to end it like this tempted me lol. If you guys want me to write another version, let me know.)
(Also sorry for the bad English)
|
|
[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 stood in a white void facing a hooded figure, confused and somewhat scared.*
*“Where am I?” I asked the figure. “Are you the grim reaper?”*
*“Yep. I’m sorry to say this, man, but, well, you’re dead. You really should have looked both ways before you crossed that busy street...” He replied, shrugging.*
*“Damn, really? That’s so lame...” I groaned. “Man, I haven’t even gotten laid yet. This is so uncool...”*
*“Yeah, well, that’s life for ya.” He chuckled, extending his pale hand towards me. “Ready to head up to heaven?”*
*“Nah.” I replied, looking at him right where I thought his eyes would be under his hood.*
*“Wait, seriously?” He seemed taken aback.*
*“Yeah.”*
*“Oh, uh, okay. Shit, I’ve never had anyone say no before. Guess I’ll just send you back...” He snapped his fingers, and I found myself lying in a hospital bed, covered in bandages and IV tubes. My girlfriend began crying into my chest when she saw that I had woken up...*
Every year after that fateful day, the Grim Reaper would come and visit me wherever I was. He always came at the most inopportune times, always asking me if I wanted to go to heaven. Once, he popped into existence in my bedroom while my girlfriend and I were ‘busy’. Another year, he interrupted me while I was in the middle of a job interview. He even caused my poor mother to have a heart attack when he appeared during Thanksgiving dinner. After that particular incident, I decided that enough was enough.
One night, after my girlfriend was asleep, he appeared to me in my living room, where I was waiting for him with a bottle of beer.
“Hey, man. Are you finally ready to go?”
“The answer’s still no, brah. I have a pretty bomb-ass life right now, but there is one thing that I don’t like about it, and that’s you. You keep annoying the shit out of me every year with that same damn question, man, and the answer’s always gonna be no.” I took a swig of my beer.
“I see. Why don’t I just make you immortal, then?” He asked me. “Then you’ll never have to see me again. Granted, I don’t know if you’d want to-“
“Do it.” I interrupted him demandingly. “Do whatever you need to do, as long as you stay the hell outta my life.”
“Alright. Don’t say I didn’t try to warn you...” He snapped his fingers again, vanishing from my life for the last time.
Not long after he vanished, the world fell into utter chaos. All the global tension that had been building up since before I was born had finally reached a boiling point, and every country on earth was obliterated in a horrible nuclear firestorm in a matter of hours. I could only stare in horror at the destruction and death that occurred around me as all my loved ones and the rest of planet earth were atomized out of existence.
Once the bombs stopped falling, I was alone. Alone on a desolate hellscape that I used to call home, with nobody to talk to except myself. Everyone I knew and loved was dead, and I couldn’t do a damn thing about it.
“I shoulda said yes...”
|
The blaring horn, the terrible noise of metal screeching against metal, the flash of lights, the pain.
And then everything was gone. A peaceful stillness filled me and darkness surrounded me.
A figure emerged from the darkness, slowly walking toward me, a hood above its head, a scythe in its hand.
"It is time, Henry Gridsno. Are you ready to leave this planet?"
I look up toward the hooded figure, think about my parents, my friends, my life.
"No."
I didn't expect it to work.
He nods his head. "I figured that, Henry Gridsno. I'll see you again soon." He walks back into the darkness leaving me alone.
The pain comes back first. The aching headache. I lift my head off a soft pillow and look around a small room.
IVs are sticking out of my arms and a constant beeping is beside me. Fresh covers sit over me, warming my body.
"Hello?" My voice is hoarse and barely comes out more than a whisper.
A pretty nurse notices me and walks into the room, smiling. "Glad to see you awake, Henry."
"Are my children..." I begin before slumping down on the pillow.
"Your children and wife are fine. You were the one most hurt. We weren't sure you would make it."
I nodd and relax onto the bed.
...
The next year, I'm sitting on the couch, holding my 5 year old son's head in my arms, watching Thomas the Train.
A dark fog drifts around me, surrounding me completely and a peaceful stillness fills me.
The same figure emerges, his scythe in his hand planted on the ground.
"Are you ready, Henry Gridsno?"
I look him in the eye and shake my head.
"Very well." He disappears back into the darkness and the fog lifts.
Every year he returns to ask again. Whenever I die, he asks me if I'm ready. It took me several years to figure out that I'm basically immortal.
When the mugger shot me in the head I figured Death wouldn't ask me.
I was surely dead now.
But the dark fog surrounded me, the peace filling me and he emerged.
"Are you ready, Henry Gridsno?"
"Not yet," I responded and he floated away.
Most stress left me. I couldn't die, couldn't be killed.
I got to watch my children grow up and become parents. It was wonderful being there for them, knowing everything would turn out fine.
Then my dear wife died.
I fell to my knees, tears streaming down my face when the dark fog surrounded me.
Death was there, in front of me.
"Why?" I ask him. "Why did you take her away?"
"Everybody dies eventually, Henry Gridsno. Even you can't control that."
I look up at him, realizing that this was better than immortality.
I wouldn't beable to live with this in happiness. I knew my children were able to take care of themselves. That was all I could do for them. That was all I could ask for.
"I'm ready."
r/FortyTwoDogs
|
|
[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?"
|
The blaring horn, the terrible noise of metal screeching against metal, the flash of lights, the pain.
And then everything was gone. A peaceful stillness filled me and darkness surrounded me.
A figure emerged from the darkness, slowly walking toward me, a hood above its head, a scythe in its hand.
"It is time, Henry Gridsno. Are you ready to leave this planet?"
I look up toward the hooded figure, think about my parents, my friends, my life.
"No."
I didn't expect it to work.
He nods his head. "I figured that, Henry Gridsno. I'll see you again soon." He walks back into the darkness leaving me alone.
The pain comes back first. The aching headache. I lift my head off a soft pillow and look around a small room.
IVs are sticking out of my arms and a constant beeping is beside me. Fresh covers sit over me, warming my body.
"Hello?" My voice is hoarse and barely comes out more than a whisper.
A pretty nurse notices me and walks into the room, smiling. "Glad to see you awake, Henry."
"Are my children..." I begin before slumping down on the pillow.
"Your children and wife are fine. You were the one most hurt. We weren't sure you would make it."
I nodd and relax onto the bed.
...
The next year, I'm sitting on the couch, holding my 5 year old son's head in my arms, watching Thomas the Train.
A dark fog drifts around me, surrounding me completely and a peaceful stillness fills me.
The same figure emerges, his scythe in his hand planted on the ground.
"Are you ready, Henry Gridsno?"
I look him in the eye and shake my head.
"Very well." He disappears back into the darkness and the fog lifts.
Every year he returns to ask again. Whenever I die, he asks me if I'm ready. It took me several years to figure out that I'm basically immortal.
When the mugger shot me in the head I figured Death wouldn't ask me.
I was surely dead now.
But the dark fog surrounded me, the peace filling me and he emerged.
"Are you ready, Henry Gridsno?"
"Not yet," I responded and he floated away.
Most stress left me. I couldn't die, couldn't be killed.
I got to watch my children grow up and become parents. It was wonderful being there for them, knowing everything would turn out fine.
Then my dear wife died.
I fell to my knees, tears streaming down my face when the dark fog surrounded me.
Death was there, in front of me.
"Why?" I ask him. "Why did you take her away?"
"Everybody dies eventually, Henry Gridsno. Even you can't control that."
I look up at him, realizing that this was better than immortality.
I wouldn't beable to live with this in happiness. I knew my children were able to take care of themselves. That was all I could do for them. That was all I could ask for.
"I'm ready."
r/FortyTwoDogs
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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
|
As we age through time, we all gain and lose a precious thing or two. Our physiques might deteriorate, hairs may fall out like leaves during autumn, yet through those turbulent seasons we all find something amidst our losses: Wisdom, and most certainly patience. George Fitzpatrick, a senior in his eighties, was keen on his patience. Since his wife had passed many years ago, George spent his lonesome days rocking back and forth on his chair, looking out from his porch over the South Dakota plains. He was always expecting a guest to visit, and it’s been a couple months since his son, Robert, has dropped by. He had promised to come again as soon as he could, and thus, the man waited and waited. On the second of June, a certain visitor came. However, it wasn’t quite who Mr. Fitzpatrick was expecting.
“Robert, is that you?” The old timer guessed, tilting his head as he heard the wood creak under the pressure of unfamiliar footsteps.
“I’m afraid I’m not Robert, Mr. Fitzpatrick.” An unknown voice replied. After all the things the senior man has lived through, there was little left that could surprise him. Nevertheless, there was without a doubt a concerned, almost frightened look as he directly gazed at an unknown young man, wearing a completely black suit with completely black socks under similarly black trousers, donning a fully black tie and most definitely an equally black shirt, with buttons just as black.
​
“Can I help you, young man?” George asked as he looked the uninvited guest into his black eyes. “Perhaps a cup of tea?” He added.
“Oh, thank you for your hospitality, but I would have to politely decline” the unfamiliar figure replied.
“I didn’t do anything wrong now, did I?” George responded with a worried tone. How did he know his name? As far as old Mr. Fitzpatrick knew, he filed his taxes on time and always paid his bills long before their due date.
“Nothing at all.” The figure simpered. “Ah, where are my manners? My name is Azrael. I’m here to tell you that your time has come, or rather, I have.”
“My time…? I’m sorry, I don’t think I quite understand.”
“That is fine, Mr. Fitzpatrick. It is very confusing, after all.” Azrael admitted before looking at his completely black watch, carefully observing their completely black pointers.
“In about thirty-eight seconds, you are to pass away from cardiac arrest. It doesn’t hurt, so don’t worry. I’m here to bring you to Mr. Peter as he is very punctual about his appointments, so we have little time to waste. Twenty-seven seconds now, to be precise.”
“I’m sorry Azrael, but I’m afraid I can’t quite do that.” George replied calmly, despite fully understanding what ominous words were just spoken to him.
“Hmm, very well then. What is another year, anyway?” The angel nodded with a hearty laugh before turning away.
“Are you sure you sure you don’t want any tea?”
“Maybe next time, Mr. Fitzpatrick. I’m on a tight schedule, so I’ll have to be going now. Ta-dah.” Azrael’s words resounded before disappearing around the corner.
​
Bewildered by what had just occurred, George returned his sight to the stretches of green in front of him, wondering if the breeze that was there moments earlier, brought along that peculiar fellow.
As time passed by like the cascading currents of the Missouri river yonder, George patiently, yet adamantly awaited his son to visit him. 365 days later, a visitor came. As the senior heard the completely black shoes tap their soles against the wood, Mr. Fitzpatrick seemed to show disappointment instead of bewilderment this time around.
“Hello again, Mr. Fitzpatrick” Azrael spoke from under a black and cool shade, perfectly complimenting his completely black hair. “I see you are in low spirits today? I hope I am not the cause of it.”
“Oh… not quite. I was expecting someone else, but you’re hardly to blame for that. How about a cup of tea now?” The senior offered a second time.
“Delightfully kind of you, but I’m afraid I’ll have to pass on the offer. Are you ready to come along now?”
“I’m so sorry Azrael… I must look like a stubborn old mule to you, but I’m afraid I’ll have to say no again.” George apologized as he shook his head.
“Oh well, until next year then. “ The being spoke before vanishing into thin air.
“Are you sure you don’t want that cup of tea?” George asked once more, but his words were aimed towards the wind.
​
A handful of years passed by and on every second of June, this conversation would repeat for a second or two. As of today, seven years had gone by since their first encounter. George had come to learn that his punctual visitor would always arrive dead on the noon, right as the clock jumped to 12:00
“Hello again.” A voice was heard, right on the second it was to be expected.
“Ah, hello Azrael.” George replied.
“I’m sorry, Mr Fitzpatrick - I know I’m not the one you were expecting, but I do think you know what I’m here for.”
“Oh, but I was expecting you! I’ve already taken the liberty to set some tea for you. I know how busy you are: You wouldn’t wear a suit if you weren't.” George smiled as poured a cup for his visitor and himself.
“Did you now? I wasn’t quite expecting that, but quite the keen eyes you got there, Mr. Fitzpatrick.” The angel chuckled. “ I am indeed driven by the clock.”
“What’s with the formality?” George laughed. “It’s been a couple years now. Call me George, but I do want you to sit down and share this with me.”
“Hmm, very well then, there’s still some time left. The wonders of modern medicine, right? Those freed up minutes sure are God’s blessing.” Azrael quipped as he sat down in the chair across his old acquaintance.
“Hey, if you don’t mind me asking, why does such a punctual and diligent fellow such as yourself turn a blind eye to an old geezer like me? George inquired curiously.
“George, dear George!” Azrael beamed with joy “Out of all millennia, you are the first one to offer me a cup of tea!” He explained before gleefully moving the beverage to his completely black lips, leaning in for a sip. “Absolutely splendid blend, I must say. I just adore black tea.”
“Do you want another fill, then?”
“I’d love to, but I don’t think I have the time for that. I do want to ask you one question, in return though.”
“Sure thing, Azrael. As long as I know the answer, I’d be happy to tell you.”
“I know it’s not my place to ask, but who is it you were exactly waiting for?” The angel asked with a curious look on his face. As soon as the words entered Mr. Fitzpatrick’s ears, the old man turned away, simpering as he looked over at the fields he has been staring at for the past few decades.
“It’s Robert… my son, you see. He promised to visit me for a while now, so I’m still waiting for him to come.”
“Oh Heavens above!" Azrael exclaimed. "Why didn’t you just tell me straight away? Come, I’ll take you right to him!”
|
The blaring horn, the terrible noise of metal screeching against metal, the flash of lights, the pain.
And then everything was gone. A peaceful stillness filled me and darkness surrounded me.
A figure emerged from the darkness, slowly walking toward me, a hood above its head, a scythe in its hand.
"It is time, Henry Gridsno. Are you ready to leave this planet?"
I look up toward the hooded figure, think about my parents, my friends, my life.
"No."
I didn't expect it to work.
He nods his head. "I figured that, Henry Gridsno. I'll see you again soon." He walks back into the darkness leaving me alone.
The pain comes back first. The aching headache. I lift my head off a soft pillow and look around a small room.
IVs are sticking out of my arms and a constant beeping is beside me. Fresh covers sit over me, warming my body.
"Hello?" My voice is hoarse and barely comes out more than a whisper.
A pretty nurse notices me and walks into the room, smiling. "Glad to see you awake, Henry."
"Are my children..." I begin before slumping down on the pillow.
"Your children and wife are fine. You were the one most hurt. We weren't sure you would make it."
I nodd and relax onto the bed.
...
The next year, I'm sitting on the couch, holding my 5 year old son's head in my arms, watching Thomas the Train.
A dark fog drifts around me, surrounding me completely and a peaceful stillness fills me.
The same figure emerges, his scythe in his hand planted on the ground.
"Are you ready, Henry Gridsno?"
I look him in the eye and shake my head.
"Very well." He disappears back into the darkness and the fog lifts.
Every year he returns to ask again. Whenever I die, he asks me if I'm ready. It took me several years to figure out that I'm basically immortal.
When the mugger shot me in the head I figured Death wouldn't ask me.
I was surely dead now.
But the dark fog surrounded me, the peace filling me and he emerged.
"Are you ready, Henry Gridsno?"
"Not yet," I responded and he floated away.
Most stress left me. I couldn't die, couldn't be killed.
I got to watch my children grow up and become parents. It was wonderful being there for them, knowing everything would turn out fine.
Then my dear wife died.
I fell to my knees, tears streaming down my face when the dark fog surrounded me.
Death was there, in front of me.
"Why?" I ask him. "Why did you take her away?"
"Everybody dies eventually, Henry Gridsno. Even you can't control that."
I look up at him, realizing that this was better than immortality.
I wouldn't beable to live with this in happiness. I knew my children were able to take care of themselves. That was all I could do for them. That was all I could ask for.
"I'm ready."
r/FortyTwoDogs
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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
|
Its been many years since I told Death no. My job was not complete. I needed to be there for him. Every year Death came back but i was still needed. I watched him grow you see. He was just a little boy when we first met and it was my job to take care him. Everyday we would watch the world turn. I was there when his girlfriend left him. I was the one in his car on his first drive alone. I was the one by his side when his mother died. Some called me unnatural for living too long. I've outlived many of my friends but they all needed their rest. But as I watched him lie there on the bed I knew it was my time to say yes. I walked up to my boy and lied down next to him. His last words were the ones I needed to hear before I left with Death. "You've been a good boy Max but I'm afraid this is goodbye." I watched Death come and get my boy. This wasn't going to be goodbye just yet. I looked at Death and nodded my head. Wagging my tail I ran after my boy into the light at the end of the tunnel.
|
The blaring horn, the terrible noise of metal screeching against metal, the flash of lights, the pain.
And then everything was gone. A peaceful stillness filled me and darkness surrounded me.
A figure emerged from the darkness, slowly walking toward me, a hood above its head, a scythe in its hand.
"It is time, Henry Gridsno. Are you ready to leave this planet?"
I look up toward the hooded figure, think about my parents, my friends, my life.
"No."
I didn't expect it to work.
He nods his head. "I figured that, Henry Gridsno. I'll see you again soon." He walks back into the darkness leaving me alone.
The pain comes back first. The aching headache. I lift my head off a soft pillow and look around a small room.
IVs are sticking out of my arms and a constant beeping is beside me. Fresh covers sit over me, warming my body.
"Hello?" My voice is hoarse and barely comes out more than a whisper.
A pretty nurse notices me and walks into the room, smiling. "Glad to see you awake, Henry."
"Are my children..." I begin before slumping down on the pillow.
"Your children and wife are fine. You were the one most hurt. We weren't sure you would make it."
I nodd and relax onto the bed.
...
The next year, I'm sitting on the couch, holding my 5 year old son's head in my arms, watching Thomas the Train.
A dark fog drifts around me, surrounding me completely and a peaceful stillness fills me.
The same figure emerges, his scythe in his hand planted on the ground.
"Are you ready, Henry Gridsno?"
I look him in the eye and shake my head.
"Very well." He disappears back into the darkness and the fog lifts.
Every year he returns to ask again. Whenever I die, he asks me if I'm ready. It took me several years to figure out that I'm basically immortal.
When the mugger shot me in the head I figured Death wouldn't ask me.
I was surely dead now.
But the dark fog surrounded me, the peace filling me and he emerged.
"Are you ready, Henry Gridsno?"
"Not yet," I responded and he floated away.
Most stress left me. I couldn't die, couldn't be killed.
I got to watch my children grow up and become parents. It was wonderful being there for them, knowing everything would turn out fine.
Then my dear wife died.
I fell to my knees, tears streaming down my face when the dark fog surrounded me.
Death was there, in front of me.
"Why?" I ask him. "Why did you take her away?"
"Everybody dies eventually, Henry Gridsno. Even you can't control that."
I look up at him, realizing that this was better than immortality.
I wouldn't beable to live with this in happiness. I knew my children were able to take care of themselves. That was all I could do for them. That was all I could ask for.
"I'm ready."
r/FortyTwoDogs
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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 blaring horn, the terrible noise of metal screeching against metal, the flash of lights, the pain.
And then everything was gone. A peaceful stillness filled me and darkness surrounded me.
A figure emerged from the darkness, slowly walking toward me, a hood above its head, a scythe in its hand.
"It is time, Henry Gridsno. Are you ready to leave this planet?"
I look up toward the hooded figure, think about my parents, my friends, my life.
"No."
I didn't expect it to work.
He nods his head. "I figured that, Henry Gridsno. I'll see you again soon." He walks back into the darkness leaving me alone.
The pain comes back first. The aching headache. I lift my head off a soft pillow and look around a small room.
IVs are sticking out of my arms and a constant beeping is beside me. Fresh covers sit over me, warming my body.
"Hello?" My voice is hoarse and barely comes out more than a whisper.
A pretty nurse notices me and walks into the room, smiling. "Glad to see you awake, Henry."
"Are my children..." I begin before slumping down on the pillow.
"Your children and wife are fine. You were the one most hurt. We weren't sure you would make it."
I nodd and relax onto the bed.
...
The next year, I'm sitting on the couch, holding my 5 year old son's head in my arms, watching Thomas the Train.
A dark fog drifts around me, surrounding me completely and a peaceful stillness fills me.
The same figure emerges, his scythe in his hand planted on the ground.
"Are you ready, Henry Gridsno?"
I look him in the eye and shake my head.
"Very well." He disappears back into the darkness and the fog lifts.
Every year he returns to ask again. Whenever I die, he asks me if I'm ready. It took me several years to figure out that I'm basically immortal.
When the mugger shot me in the head I figured Death wouldn't ask me.
I was surely dead now.
But the dark fog surrounded me, the peace filling me and he emerged.
"Are you ready, Henry Gridsno?"
"Not yet," I responded and he floated away.
Most stress left me. I couldn't die, couldn't be killed.
I got to watch my children grow up and become parents. It was wonderful being there for them, knowing everything would turn out fine.
Then my dear wife died.
I fell to my knees, tears streaming down my face when the dark fog surrounded me.
Death was there, in front of me.
"Why?" I ask him. "Why did you take her away?"
"Everybody dies eventually, Henry Gridsno. Even you can't control that."
I look up at him, realizing that this was better than immortality.
I wouldn't beable to live with this in happiness. I knew my children were able to take care of themselves. That was all I could do for them. That was all I could ask for.
"I'm ready."
r/FortyTwoDogs
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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?"
|
*I stood in a white void facing a hooded figure, confused and somewhat scared.*
*“Where am I?” I asked the figure. “Are you the grim reaper?”*
*“Yep. I’m sorry to say this, man, but, well, you’re dead. You really should have looked both ways before you crossed that busy street...” He replied, shrugging.*
*“Damn, really? That’s so lame...” I groaned. “Man, I haven’t even gotten laid yet. This is so uncool...”*
*“Yeah, well, that’s life for ya.” He chuckled, extending his pale hand towards me. “Ready to head up to heaven?”*
*“Nah.” I replied, looking at him right where I thought his eyes would be under his hood.*
*“Wait, seriously?” He seemed taken aback.*
*“Yeah.”*
*“Oh, uh, okay. Shit, I’ve never had anyone say no before. Guess I’ll just send you back...” He snapped his fingers, and I found myself lying in a hospital bed, covered in bandages and IV tubes. My girlfriend began crying into my chest when she saw that I had woken up...*
Every year after that fateful day, the Grim Reaper would come and visit me wherever I was. He always came at the most inopportune times, always asking me if I wanted to go to heaven. Once, he popped into existence in my bedroom while my girlfriend and I were ‘busy’. Another year, he interrupted me while I was in the middle of a job interview. He even caused my poor mother to have a heart attack when he appeared during Thanksgiving dinner. After that particular incident, I decided that enough was enough.
One night, after my girlfriend was asleep, he appeared to me in my living room, where I was waiting for him with a bottle of beer.
“Hey, man. Are you finally ready to go?”
“The answer’s still no, brah. I have a pretty bomb-ass life right now, but there is one thing that I don’t like about it, and that’s you. You keep annoying the shit out of me every year with that same damn question, man, and the answer’s always gonna be no.” I took a swig of my beer.
“I see. Why don’t I just make you immortal, then?” He asked me. “Then you’ll never have to see me again. Granted, I don’t know if you’d want to-“
“Do it.” I interrupted him demandingly. “Do whatever you need to do, as long as you stay the hell outta my life.”
“Alright. Don’t say I didn’t try to warn you...” He snapped his fingers again, vanishing from my life for the last time.
Not long after he vanished, the world fell into utter chaos. All the global tension that had been building up since before I was born had finally reached a boiling point, and every country on earth was obliterated in a horrible nuclear firestorm in a matter of hours. I could only stare in horror at the destruction and death that occurred around me as all my loved ones and the rest of planet earth were atomized out of existence.
Once the bombs stopped falling, I was alone. Alone on a desolate hellscape that I used to call home, with nobody to talk to except myself. Everyone I knew and loved was dead, and I couldn’t do a damn thing about it.
“I shoulda said yes...”
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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.”
|
*I stood in a white void facing a hooded figure, confused and somewhat scared.*
*“Where am I?” I asked the figure. “Are you the grim reaper?”*
*“Yep. I’m sorry to say this, man, but, well, you’re dead. You really should have looked both ways before you crossed that busy street...” He replied, shrugging.*
*“Damn, really? That’s so lame...” I groaned. “Man, I haven’t even gotten laid yet. This is so uncool...”*
*“Yeah, well, that’s life for ya.” He chuckled, extending his pale hand towards me. “Ready to head up to heaven?”*
*“Nah.” I replied, looking at him right where I thought his eyes would be under his hood.*
*“Wait, seriously?” He seemed taken aback.*
*“Yeah.”*
*“Oh, uh, okay. Shit, I’ve never had anyone say no before. Guess I’ll just send you back...” He snapped his fingers, and I found myself lying in a hospital bed, covered in bandages and IV tubes. My girlfriend began crying into my chest when she saw that I had woken up...*
Every year after that fateful day, the Grim Reaper would come and visit me wherever I was. He always came at the most inopportune times, always asking me if I wanted to go to heaven. Once, he popped into existence in my bedroom while my girlfriend and I were ‘busy’. Another year, he interrupted me while I was in the middle of a job interview. He even caused my poor mother to have a heart attack when he appeared during Thanksgiving dinner. After that particular incident, I decided that enough was enough.
One night, after my girlfriend was asleep, he appeared to me in my living room, where I was waiting for him with a bottle of beer.
“Hey, man. Are you finally ready to go?”
“The answer’s still no, brah. I have a pretty bomb-ass life right now, but there is one thing that I don’t like about it, and that’s you. You keep annoying the shit out of me every year with that same damn question, man, and the answer’s always gonna be no.” I took a swig of my beer.
“I see. Why don’t I just make you immortal, then?” He asked me. “Then you’ll never have to see me again. Granted, I don’t know if you’d want to-“
“Do it.” I interrupted him demandingly. “Do whatever you need to do, as long as you stay the hell outta my life.”
“Alright. Don’t say I didn’t try to warn you...” He snapped his fingers again, vanishing from my life for the last time.
Not long after he vanished, the world fell into utter chaos. All the global tension that had been building up since before I was born had finally reached a boiling point, and every country on earth was obliterated in a horrible nuclear firestorm in a matter of hours. I could only stare in horror at the destruction and death that occurred around me as all my loved ones and the rest of planet earth were atomized out of existence.
Once the bombs stopped falling, I was alone. Alone on a desolate hellscape that I used to call home, with nobody to talk to except myself. Everyone I knew and loved was dead, and I couldn’t do a damn thing about it.
“I shoulda said yes...”
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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.”
|
As we age through time, we all gain and lose a precious thing or two. Our physiques might deteriorate, hairs may fall out like leaves during autumn, yet through those turbulent seasons we all find something amidst our losses: Wisdom, and most certainly patience. George Fitzpatrick, a senior in his eighties, was keen on his patience. Since his wife had passed many years ago, George spent his lonesome days rocking back and forth on his chair, looking out from his porch over the South Dakota plains. He was always expecting a guest to visit, and it’s been a couple months since his son, Robert, has dropped by. He had promised to come again as soon as he could, and thus, the man waited and waited. On the second of June, a certain visitor came. However, it wasn’t quite who Mr. Fitzpatrick was expecting.
“Robert, is that you?” The old timer guessed, tilting his head as he heard the wood creak under the pressure of unfamiliar footsteps.
“I’m afraid I’m not Robert, Mr. Fitzpatrick.” An unknown voice replied. After all the things the senior man has lived through, there was little left that could surprise him. Nevertheless, there was without a doubt a concerned, almost frightened look as he directly gazed at an unknown young man, wearing a completely black suit with completely black socks under similarly black trousers, donning a fully black tie and most definitely an equally black shirt, with buttons just as black.
​
“Can I help you, young man?” George asked as he looked the uninvited guest into his black eyes. “Perhaps a cup of tea?” He added.
“Oh, thank you for your hospitality, but I would have to politely decline” the unfamiliar figure replied.
“I didn’t do anything wrong now, did I?” George responded with a worried tone. How did he know his name? As far as old Mr. Fitzpatrick knew, he filed his taxes on time and always paid his bills long before their due date.
“Nothing at all.” The figure simpered. “Ah, where are my manners? My name is Azrael. I’m here to tell you that your time has come, or rather, I have.”
“My time…? I’m sorry, I don’t think I quite understand.”
“That is fine, Mr. Fitzpatrick. It is very confusing, after all.” Azrael admitted before looking at his completely black watch, carefully observing their completely black pointers.
“In about thirty-eight seconds, you are to pass away from cardiac arrest. It doesn’t hurt, so don’t worry. I’m here to bring you to Mr. Peter as he is very punctual about his appointments, so we have little time to waste. Twenty-seven seconds now, to be precise.”
“I’m sorry Azrael, but I’m afraid I can’t quite do that.” George replied calmly, despite fully understanding what ominous words were just spoken to him.
“Hmm, very well then. What is another year, anyway?” The angel nodded with a hearty laugh before turning away.
“Are you sure you sure you don’t want any tea?”
“Maybe next time, Mr. Fitzpatrick. I’m on a tight schedule, so I’ll have to be going now. Ta-dah.” Azrael’s words resounded before disappearing around the corner.
​
Bewildered by what had just occurred, George returned his sight to the stretches of green in front of him, wondering if the breeze that was there moments earlier, brought along that peculiar fellow.
As time passed by like the cascading currents of the Missouri river yonder, George patiently, yet adamantly awaited his son to visit him. 365 days later, a visitor came. As the senior heard the completely black shoes tap their soles against the wood, Mr. Fitzpatrick seemed to show disappointment instead of bewilderment this time around.
“Hello again, Mr. Fitzpatrick” Azrael spoke from under a black and cool shade, perfectly complimenting his completely black hair. “I see you are in low spirits today? I hope I am not the cause of it.”
“Oh… not quite. I was expecting someone else, but you’re hardly to blame for that. How about a cup of tea now?” The senior offered a second time.
“Delightfully kind of you, but I’m afraid I’ll have to pass on the offer. Are you ready to come along now?”
“I’m so sorry Azrael… I must look like a stubborn old mule to you, but I’m afraid I’ll have to say no again.” George apologized as he shook his head.
“Oh well, until next year then. “ The being spoke before vanishing into thin air.
“Are you sure you don’t want that cup of tea?” George asked once more, but his words were aimed towards the wind.
​
A handful of years passed by and on every second of June, this conversation would repeat for a second or two. As of today, seven years had gone by since their first encounter. George had come to learn that his punctual visitor would always arrive dead on the noon, right as the clock jumped to 12:00
“Hello again.” A voice was heard, right on the second it was to be expected.
“Ah, hello Azrael.” George replied.
“I’m sorry, Mr Fitzpatrick - I know I’m not the one you were expecting, but I do think you know what I’m here for.”
“Oh, but I was expecting you! I’ve already taken the liberty to set some tea for you. I know how busy you are: You wouldn’t wear a suit if you weren't.” George smiled as poured a cup for his visitor and himself.
“Did you now? I wasn’t quite expecting that, but quite the keen eyes you got there, Mr. Fitzpatrick.” The angel chuckled. “ I am indeed driven by the clock.”
“What’s with the formality?” George laughed. “It’s been a couple years now. Call me George, but I do want you to sit down and share this with me.”
“Hmm, very well then, there’s still some time left. The wonders of modern medicine, right? Those freed up minutes sure are God’s blessing.” Azrael quipped as he sat down in the chair across his old acquaintance.
“Hey, if you don’t mind me asking, why does such a punctual and diligent fellow such as yourself turn a blind eye to an old geezer like me? George inquired curiously.
“George, dear George!” Azrael beamed with joy “Out of all millennia, you are the first one to offer me a cup of tea!” He explained before gleefully moving the beverage to his completely black lips, leaning in for a sip. “Absolutely splendid blend, I must say. I just adore black tea.”
“Do you want another fill, then?”
“I’d love to, but I don’t think I have the time for that. I do want to ask you one question, in return though.”
“Sure thing, Azrael. As long as I know the answer, I’d be happy to tell you.”
“I know it’s not my place to ask, but who is it you were exactly waiting for?” The angel asked with a curious look on his face. As soon as the words entered Mr. Fitzpatrick’s ears, the old man turned away, simpering as he looked over at the fields he has been staring at for the past few decades.
“It’s Robert… my son, you see. He promised to visit me for a while now, so I’m still waiting for him to come.”
“Oh Heavens above!" Azrael exclaimed. "Why didn’t you just tell me straight away? Come, I’ll take you right to him!”
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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.”
|
Its been many years since I told Death no. My job was not complete. I needed to be there for him. Every year Death came back but i was still needed. I watched him grow you see. He was just a little boy when we first met and it was my job to take care him. Everyday we would watch the world turn. I was there when his girlfriend left him. I was the one in his car on his first drive alone. I was the one by his side when his mother died. Some called me unnatural for living too long. I've outlived many of my friends but they all needed their rest. But as I watched him lie there on the bed I knew it was my time to say yes. I walked up to my boy and lied down next to him. His last words were the ones I needed to hear before I left with Death. "You've been a good boy Max but I'm afraid this is goodbye." I watched Death come and get my boy. This wasn't going to be goodbye just yet. I looked at Death and nodded my head. Wagging my tail I ran after my boy into the light at the end of the tunnel.
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[WP] After dying peacefully in sleep, a text appeared, "You have completed the Game of Life on Easy Mode. Would you like to retry in another difficulty level?" You decided to pick Nightmare Mode.
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Somehow I’d guessed that life was a game all along.
I’ve always felt there was a right thing and a wrong thing to do, and I had a tendency to pick the wrong thing. Strangely, though, I rarely faced much in the way or consequences—being born into privilege will do that for you—so my mistakes were mine to internalize. So, when I finally kicked it, I was unsurprised to find myself at a menu screen.
I was even less surprised to learn that I’d only cleared the lowest difficulty setting. There were innumerable tiers to choose from—and I was prompted to start life again, with a different difficulty level.
I scrolled and scrolled. Most of them sounded like jokes. “Dante must die mode,” one of them threatened. “New Story Plus,” promised another. I kept scrolling until I finally reached the bottom:
Nightmare Mode. The highest difficulty.
I thought of all the times I let myself take the easy way out. I thought of all the crappy jobs, boring relationships, and utterly embarrassing school days. All of that, *easy mode.* What kind of person fumbles *easy mode?*
I had a second chance here. I could live a full life, one with struggle that propels me to success rather than one where I’ve watched everything pass by. I could be someone who overcame their circumstances, not just a spoiled loser who died doing nothing for no one.
I highlighted Nightmare Mode.
What would it entail? How does one define a life based in hardship from its very inception? Would I be born a child slave, a crack baby, one of those poor Palestinian kids? Would I even make it past the first...level, I suppose? What awaits a person beginning their life intentionally more difficult than any other?
I selected Nightmare Mode before I had a chance to argue with myself further.
At first, nothing. Then, a bright light that felt comfortingly familiar—maybe the first thing that anyone ever sees. A feeling of anticipation, a clean slate—would I remember myself? Would I start from scratch? Would I overcome and make the right choices this time?
My excitement was stalled by the arrival of more text from the ether:
>You have been reborn as a Gamer.
My first cries of life were not simply because I was a babe, but because I knew I had chosen Hell.
|
I pressed the button labeled "Nightmare Mode". Suddenly, a small screen popped up in front of my eyes. 'Warning: Ability to change difficulty will be locked until you succeed. Do you want to proceed?' I took a deep breath closed my eyes, and pressed yes.
​
Nothing happened.
​
I opened my eyes. I was in the same featureless room, the same stat screen in front of me. This time, the difficulty options were all grey. I pressed the restart button.
​
I opened my eyes. I was about a foot back from the screen now. I walked up and hit the restart button again, harder this time.
​
I opened my eyes. Light burned my retinas as I blinked for the first time. I could hear a loud voice crying out in pain behind me. Something inside me understood that pain, could relate to it. I tried to wail with it, but I couldn't make a noise. The light seemed to be getting darker.
​
I opened my eyes. I was in the same featureless room.
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[WP] After dying peacefully in sleep, a text appeared, "You have completed the Game of Life on Easy Mode. Would you like to retry in another difficulty level?" You decided to pick Nightmare Mode.
|
Rest in peace, Leo Korhonen...
You lived 89 years and died a billionare in Helsinki. It has been a smooth run, you handsome devil!
​
\*\* NEW GAME+ AVAILABLE!\*\*
"Finally!" I grinded for eons to get to this level!
"Sure, I'm in."
I tried to stretch a bit before embarking on this new quest...
Imagine my surprise when I realized I was no longer bound to a corporeal form.
​
A strange thing, forgetting the feeling of endless void around you... Well, it was an immersive game after all.
"Lets explore the new options then..."
​
\*\* HARD MODE: You are no longer rich or attractive. \*\*
​
"Meh, pass.."
​
\*\*LEGENDARY MODE: Your intelligence will be below average or you have a 25% chance of a disability.\*\*
​
"Boooring..." I sighed - or at least I tried to - and kept scrolling...
​
\*\* NIGHTMARE MODE: Feeling adventurous? \*\*
​
I paused. This isn't descriptive at all... But I felt like I was up for the challenge. Worst case scenario? I will have a short and unpleasant ... what, 60 years of simulation? It's nothing for a primordial being.
​
"I certainly do feel adventurous!"
​
As the simulation began to wrap itself around me, I tried to clear my thoughts and free my mind.
​
The chamber which held my essence began to fill with flickering lights, folding and expanding on itself in a bizarre fashion. As usual, I skipped the intro fast... The Big Bang, The Mesozoic Era, Dark Ages...
​
Middle Ages? Eww... I can't believe some gamers are into this crap.
​
Let's see... Female, born in 1970? Sure, why not....
​
I made my choice, now it's time to sit back and let the simulator work its magic.
​
Nightmare Mode... I shuddered with excitement. "This will be fun!"
​
Now here comes the best part: I'm about to forget everything I know... Oh, how liberating!
​
\*\* SIMULATION BEGINS \*\*
​
Somewhere in Balkans... Slovenia?
​
A hospital... Doctors leaning over a woman... She pushes... pushes hard and I see... light? Impossible to tell..
Strange shapes, moving around me. Sounds are different.
​
Ouch, that hurt! Felt a physical contact. Instincts tell me to react... Air escapes my lungs, and it makes a high pitch sound. How weird...
​
Sounds are softer now, are they relieved that I reacted?
​
WHAT!?
Suddenly lost my direct connection to the big, protective being that I was inside of? I wonder what happened?
​
And now a giant being picks me up, cuddles me... I feel safer now. More sounds...
"A baby girl! Did you pick a name yet?"
​
I start sucking on a soft object. It's relaxing, soothing... As I slowly succumb to slumber, I hear another sound:
"Yes we did... She is Melania... Melania Knavs."
|
Woke up in a bed I didn't recognize. *Strange. Oh well.*
Stepped out to the patio, and looked across the architectural horizon. It was the same city, but I heard ungodly sounds in the distance.
A crowd gathered below my apartment complex. I didn't realize it at that moment, but there was an angry hoard of ugly monstrosities down there.
I gazed down at them. Then I coughed. I needed a smoke. I opened up the pack by my bedside and checked the package. It was glossy, covered in plastic.
I read the text on the front. There was a camel standing in a desert... strange to associate a camel with smoking, I thought. I'd never thought about it, but what was more concerning was the fine print below the camel.
*Nicotine free.*
Good God I needed a smoke more than ever. The horde grew louder, calling me from the stands of the metropolitan arena.
I stepped outside and looked down at the mass of ugly creatures. They were a motley crew. Some looked like zombies. There was a vampire type of creature, but it appeared to be trying to blend in. One creature was massive; a giant with the head of a newborn baby. How despicable.
I spit at the crowd. It became visibly angry.
Then I heard a light rapping at my chamber door. I stepped with caution toward it. I grabbed a baseball bat by my couch. It had nails sticking out of the end, like a mace.
*Strange*.
I peeped through the spyhole and saw a pretty young woman.
She had a tentative smile, as though she expected me to be here. I'd never seen her in this building.
I slid the door ajar and looked hazily into her hazel eyes. "Hi, do I know you?"
She shook her head like a hinge. "I'm here to help you. I'm a guide through the game."
"A guide?"
"A sort of NPC. Yes, you'll need all the help you can get, I assure you."
I clenched the baseball bat mace, and stepped out into the hallway. The lights overhead were yellowish, murky.
"Follow me. We must go to the basement. There is an escape hatch down there," she said.
I didn't like this. And I didn't trust beautiful women, especially the type with hazel eyes and hourglass hips.
But I followed, like a dog on a leash. It felt like a dream, I was still half asleep. The lighting grew dimmer as we approached the stairs.
"Elevator is down. We must take the staircase," she said, opening the metal door gingerly.
We descended the staircase with a slow, careful approach. She didn't hold the railing, in fact, she seemed to glide down as if on roller skates.
I didn't think to ask until now: "What's your name?"
"Whatever you want it to be. Does it matter at this point?"
I shut up and kept descending. We finally met a tall wooden door that looked pasted on the wall.
"In, now," she commanded.
I turned the knob, but it didn't move. I glanced at the NPC woman for a moment.
"No way out, no way in. Welcome to the game. Would you like to continue?"
I nodded. I didn't understand yet.
"Go in," she said.
I pushed once more, and the door gave way. Inside was a computer console that looked modern, but also steampunk. I didn't know much about steampunk culture, but it had that feel to it.
"Save your game here. You'll need a spawning point," she said with the lightness of a feather.
I touched the sphere held up in front of the wall of monitors. Then I felt a jolt of energy rushing through my head. It felt like I'd put my tongue in an electrical conduit.
"Good," she said. "Now you're ready to play."
"Play?" I asked.
"You're going to need this spawning room. Because outside that door is your worst fear. Until you face it, you'll never get out of the Nightmare."
"Great," I said.
I knew what was out there. The panic I'd been running from my whole life. The depression I escaped through drugs and shrinks.
I opened the wooden door. There was no more hiding. Nothing left but to do it.
When the door swung open, I saw myself. My past self, before I awoke in a nightmare.
"Fight yourself," she said. "To the death. The greatest fear you have is your own death. This way you can experience it, without fear of oblivion."
All of a sudden, I was at once in my own body and in the other body at the same time.
"Go. Kill," the NPC said.
I went. And I killed. And when it was over, I returned to the spawning room. The beautiful NPC have glory in her eyes. She looked different. I recognized her. She was Princess Peach, in human form.
"I'm sorry, but your princess is in another castle," she said listlessly.
In the corner of the spawning room was a gigantic plumbing tube. I jumped in the top, like I'd done as a small child.
I knew this game. I was ready to escape. I said goodbye to the beautiful NPC, and slid through the pipe.
At the other end was something. I knew that.
I saw a light at the end of the tunnel. I closed my eyes and waited.
I heard a digital melody in the distance.
I know this game.
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[WP] "In the land of the blind, the one eyed man is king." Untrue, as it turns out. When a mysterious energy wave swept the world and took away vision for humans, you were the only one left with an eye, the wealthy and powerful are hunting you down for your working eyeball.
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The terrible things I’ve seen. The terrible things I’ve seen. They do not want to see, yet are still hunting me.
But I can see. And wish I could not. They cannot see and wish they can. I do not envy them.
Once, the world was awash in a sea of color, and now everybody is blind. I am the last to be able to see. One eye on the world.
What they cannot see is we are not alone. These others, multi colored beings walk amongst us. They giggle and walk around our newfound clumsiness, but I can see them. They are harmless. They are light, and energy and happiness. If we could see them we would be afraid of their happiness, we’d strip them of what they are.
No, we should not see. We cannot see.
|
[Poem]
Before I start there is something I should mention, I didn’t really understand the prompt, and so this poem might not fit the prompt.
Here is anyway what I got:
All of humanity has gone blind, except one person who has one working eye, which somehow makes him a king?
Instead of obeying him, the rich try to take said eye, in order to become king.
So yeah, most likely wrong, but that is what I went with. Oh and this is only my third poem, on here, so it will most likely be really bad, bad I hope that someone will enjoy it.
Oh and I have not proof read it ( too lazy right now, so the grammar is likely wrong and words are probably misspelled. Well enjoy!
Warning — this poem is dangerously bad, and by reading it you accept that you might lose your eyesight, because it is so terribly bad.
Continue reading if you accept the terms above.
—
As I run I can hear their screams behind me.
Sadly I do not have time to turn around an see.
They chase me for my vision.
They want my eye.
It is like they have a competition.
With the price as what I think is my hair dye.
That is at least what they are screaming about.
Well it is either that or my one eye.
And that is something I can’t live without.
Luckily they all seem to be blind.
So it isn’t like the can efficiently chase me around.
“Damn bastard come back here!” I hear, and I decide to reply, “I think not, you haven’t been kind”
Oh shit, I say quietly as I realize they can track sound.
Well I need to go now, hopefully they get stuck in my pit.
And hopefully they aren’t to fat, so they will fit.
I look around with my one eye on my barricades.
Spikes, pits and other shit.
I imagine they scream, curse me to death.
I smile, while looking smug, in the light of torches lit.
I am the one eyed king, they almighty Seth.
Although my people want me dead.
They can’t have my hair dye, or I’ll go bald on my head.
|
|
[WP] "In the land of the blind, the one eyed man is king." Untrue, as it turns out. When a mysterious energy wave swept the world and took away vision for humans, you were the only one left with an eye, the wealthy and powerful are hunting you down for your working eyeball.
|
In the end, it wasn't the environment that we should have been worrying about. It was not the carbon dioxide in the atmosphere, or rising sea levels, or unbearable heat that took life as we knew it away from us. It was not even an outbreak of some deadly virus, despite the warnings of microbiologists over the growing risk of antibiotic resistance.
​
The last thing that humanity saw before the beginning of the darkness was a blinding light. Perhaps a poor choice or words, but this throwaway and literal phrase - blinding light - is really the most fitting way to describe what happened. No one knew where it originated other than that it seemed to start from the ground up, and spread horizontally to devour the collective eyesight of the world.
​
Yet here I am, with eyesight in my left eye.
​
It was all due to my own perseverance that I am still able to see, really. When the darkness came, it took not only vision from humanity but also our souls. Guided by fear and sadness, people stopped rationally living and began fighting to survive - stealing what was not theirs and murdering those they felt might threaten their livelihood. Desperation drove their actions.
​
The need to survive drove mine. You see, the darkness also took my vision. I was no different from anyone else in physiology, so why would I be spared? But in the darkness, I realised something. The scurrying of animals continued as they usually did, or so it seemed to my ears. Cats, dogs, rats - they still moved with purpose, a purpose only possible with unimpaired eyesight. My conjecture was that they still had their vision - they didn't seem to be affected.
​
I am loathe to describe what I did after this discovery. What I will tell you is that my right eye - my original - is of a dark brown, but my left eye from which I see is a feline yellow. My vision is not perfect, but it is sufficient.
​
Perhaps if they stopped hunting me, I would share this discovery with the world. Until then, this advantage is mine alone.
​
\-----
My first writing prompt. I'm rusty, but enjoying this process. Hopefully this is not too dark!
|
[Poem]
Before I start there is something I should mention, I didn’t really understand the prompt, and so this poem might not fit the prompt.
Here is anyway what I got:
All of humanity has gone blind, except one person who has one working eye, which somehow makes him a king?
Instead of obeying him, the rich try to take said eye, in order to become king.
So yeah, most likely wrong, but that is what I went with. Oh and this is only my third poem, on here, so it will most likely be really bad, bad I hope that someone will enjoy it.
Oh and I have not proof read it ( too lazy right now, so the grammar is likely wrong and words are probably misspelled. Well enjoy!
Warning — this poem is dangerously bad, and by reading it you accept that you might lose your eyesight, because it is so terribly bad.
Continue reading if you accept the terms above.
—
As I run I can hear their screams behind me.
Sadly I do not have time to turn around an see.
They chase me for my vision.
They want my eye.
It is like they have a competition.
With the price as what I think is my hair dye.
That is at least what they are screaming about.
Well it is either that or my one eye.
And that is something I can’t live without.
Luckily they all seem to be blind.
So it isn’t like the can efficiently chase me around.
“Damn bastard come back here!” I hear, and I decide to reply, “I think not, you haven’t been kind”
Oh shit, I say quietly as I realize they can track sound.
Well I need to go now, hopefully they get stuck in my pit.
And hopefully they aren’t to fat, so they will fit.
I look around with my one eye on my barricades.
Spikes, pits and other shit.
I imagine they scream, curse me to death.
I smile, while looking smug, in the light of torches lit.
I am the one eyed king, they almighty Seth.
Although my people want me dead.
They can’t have my hair dye, or I’ll go bald on my head.
|
|
[WP] "In the land of the blind, the one eyed man is king." Untrue, as it turns out. When a mysterious energy wave swept the world and took away vision for humans, you were the only one left with an eye, the wealthy and powerful are hunting you down for your working eyeball.
|
The terrible things I’ve seen. The terrible things I’ve seen. They do not want to see, yet are still hunting me.
But I can see. And wish I could not. They cannot see and wish they can. I do not envy them.
Once, the world was awash in a sea of color, and now everybody is blind. I am the last to be able to see. One eye on the world.
What they cannot see is we are not alone. These others, multi colored beings walk amongst us. They giggle and walk around our newfound clumsiness, but I can see them. They are harmless. They are light, and energy and happiness. If we could see them we would be afraid of their happiness, we’d strip them of what they are.
No, we should not see. We cannot see.
|
Ironically, the year was 2020 when the peoples of the globe lost their vision. The majority of humanity died that day, whether by accidental, or suicidal means.
Ironically, the petty wars and atrocities humanity had so long waged and committed against each other also waned due to the collective losses of a 'shared vision' which propelled these acts. While warmongering nations fought with drones, automated systems, they had still factored in the human element for their decision making. Determine friend from foe and neutralize. Without their sight to verify these conclusions, the fight became meaningless, unwarranted and futile. Everything became collateral damage, and the fear of this new unknown was enough for entire armies to lay down their arms.
Ironically, the day was October 31st. And I had chosen to dress as a pirate this year. The screams and yelling rose almost instantly. Crying and loud crashing filled the room as the partygoers frantically tried to find their way through the house.. I tore my eyepatch off and to my relief.. later, my horror..
I alone, could see.
|
|
[WP] "In the land of the blind, the one eyed man is king." Untrue, as it turns out. When a mysterious energy wave swept the world and took away vision for humans, you were the only one left with an eye, the wealthy and powerful are hunting you down for your working eyeball.
|
In the end, it wasn't the environment that we should have been worrying about. It was not the carbon dioxide in the atmosphere, or rising sea levels, or unbearable heat that took life as we knew it away from us. It was not even an outbreak of some deadly virus, despite the warnings of microbiologists over the growing risk of antibiotic resistance.
​
The last thing that humanity saw before the beginning of the darkness was a blinding light. Perhaps a poor choice or words, but this throwaway and literal phrase - blinding light - is really the most fitting way to describe what happened. No one knew where it originated other than that it seemed to start from the ground up, and spread horizontally to devour the collective eyesight of the world.
​
Yet here I am, with eyesight in my left eye.
​
It was all due to my own perseverance that I am still able to see, really. When the darkness came, it took not only vision from humanity but also our souls. Guided by fear and sadness, people stopped rationally living and began fighting to survive - stealing what was not theirs and murdering those they felt might threaten their livelihood. Desperation drove their actions.
​
The need to survive drove mine. You see, the darkness also took my vision. I was no different from anyone else in physiology, so why would I be spared? But in the darkness, I realised something. The scurrying of animals continued as they usually did, or so it seemed to my ears. Cats, dogs, rats - they still moved with purpose, a purpose only possible with unimpaired eyesight. My conjecture was that they still had their vision - they didn't seem to be affected.
​
I am loathe to describe what I did after this discovery. What I will tell you is that my right eye - my original - is of a dark brown, but my left eye from which I see is a feline yellow. My vision is not perfect, but it is sufficient.
​
Perhaps if they stopped hunting me, I would share this discovery with the world. Until then, this advantage is mine alone.
​
\-----
My first writing prompt. I'm rusty, but enjoying this process. Hopefully this is not too dark!
|
Ironically, the year was 2020 when the peoples of the globe lost their vision. The majority of humanity died that day, whether by accidental, or suicidal means.
Ironically, the petty wars and atrocities humanity had so long waged and committed against each other also waned due to the collective losses of a 'shared vision' which propelled these acts. While warmongering nations fought with drones, automated systems, they had still factored in the human element for their decision making. Determine friend from foe and neutralize. Without their sight to verify these conclusions, the fight became meaningless, unwarranted and futile. Everything became collateral damage, and the fear of this new unknown was enough for entire armies to lay down their arms.
Ironically, the day was October 31st. And I had chosen to dress as a pirate this year. The screams and yelling rose almost instantly. Crying and loud crashing filled the room as the partygoers frantically tried to find their way through the house.. I tore my eyepatch off and to my relief.. later, my horror..
I alone, could see.
|
|
[WP] "In the land of the blind, the one eyed man is king." Untrue, as it turns out. When a mysterious energy wave swept the world and took away vision for humans, you were the only one left with an eye, the wealthy and powerful are hunting you down for your working eyeball.
|
In the end, it wasn't the environment that we should have been worrying about. It was not the carbon dioxide in the atmosphere, or rising sea levels, or unbearable heat that took life as we knew it away from us. It was not even an outbreak of some deadly virus, despite the warnings of microbiologists over the growing risk of antibiotic resistance.
​
The last thing that humanity saw before the beginning of the darkness was a blinding light. Perhaps a poor choice or words, but this throwaway and literal phrase - blinding light - is really the most fitting way to describe what happened. No one knew where it originated other than that it seemed to start from the ground up, and spread horizontally to devour the collective eyesight of the world.
​
Yet here I am, with eyesight in my left eye.
​
It was all due to my own perseverance that I am still able to see, really. When the darkness came, it took not only vision from humanity but also our souls. Guided by fear and sadness, people stopped rationally living and began fighting to survive - stealing what was not theirs and murdering those they felt might threaten their livelihood. Desperation drove their actions.
​
The need to survive drove mine. You see, the darkness also took my vision. I was no different from anyone else in physiology, so why would I be spared? But in the darkness, I realised something. The scurrying of animals continued as they usually did, or so it seemed to my ears. Cats, dogs, rats - they still moved with purpose, a purpose only possible with unimpaired eyesight. My conjecture was that they still had their vision - they didn't seem to be affected.
​
I am loathe to describe what I did after this discovery. What I will tell you is that my right eye - my original - is of a dark brown, but my left eye from which I see is a feline yellow. My vision is not perfect, but it is sufficient.
​
Perhaps if they stopped hunting me, I would share this discovery with the world. Until then, this advantage is mine alone.
​
\-----
My first writing prompt. I'm rusty, but enjoying this process. Hopefully this is not too dark!
|
The terrible things I’ve seen. The terrible things I’ve seen. They do not want to see, yet are still hunting me.
But I can see. And wish I could not. They cannot see and wish they can. I do not envy them.
Once, the world was awash in a sea of color, and now everybody is blind. I am the last to be able to see. One eye on the world.
What they cannot see is we are not alone. These others, multi colored beings walk amongst us. They giggle and walk around our newfound clumsiness, but I can see them. They are harmless. They are light, and energy and happiness. If we could see them we would be afraid of their happiness, we’d strip them of what they are.
No, we should not see. We cannot see.
|
|
[WP] "In the land of the blind, the one eyed man is king." Untrue, as it turns out. When a mysterious energy wave swept the world and took away vision for humans, you were the only one left with an eye, the wealthy and powerful are hunting you down for your working eyeball.
|
Note: apologies for any spelling or grammar as I was writing this on my phone because I had to capture the idea that came to mind.
"I've got it." The sudden noise wakes you from your afternoon nap among the waste. "I've got the seeing eye."
You turn your head slightly, human waste tumbling off your neck. You've grown used to the smells and to not taking care of yourself. You've also grown used to silence. So you look at the speaker.
She is a young girl - possibly pre-adolescent but it is difficult for you to judge. She is as scrawny as she is tall, a small wasted shadow with ragged clothes, matted mud splattered hair that was probably once brown and she is holding up a round object. Even from a close range you can barely tell it is an eyeball.
'No. Used to be an eyeball,' you think. Dripping with gore and no doubt stinking of decay. You can't help but wonder why a lone girl in the Graveyards would believe it was the one seeing eye. 'My bloody eye.'
The scavengers are onto her in a flash, rising up from the surrounding piles of bones. Their crazed mouths drool, saliva cascading across their chests: you count at least ten of the creatures. And for a moment you pity them. Until you remember cynically that they were the reason you had come to the Graveyards all those years ago.
The Crazies, would tear anyone to pieces for a taste of flesh. They had some strange religion based around devouring the sightless eyes of non-believers. All of which was meant to give you a modicum of safety from the outside world.
The past fifteen years brought nothing but hell. Running from the sightless world administrators who realised the value of your one seeing eye.
Damn, you are some reverse Sauron. You smile at the thought, then grimace as the Crazies close in on the little girl. It's never been pleasant to watch intruders torn to shreds.
Of course, while you realise sheer luck brought you to the Graveyard and the Crazies, you refuse to accept this reality. Luck is for the blind.
You blink as the girl tosses the eye down onto the ground. Any thoughts about the corpse she stole it from cease as the eye rolls down across the bone stacks, blinking with a single red light. Then a flash illuminates everything in blinding white light and the Crazies scream as fire rinses away their insanity.
It takes half a second for the flare to hit you. You have no time to respond except to realise that the eyeball was, in stead, a Hellfire Grenade. A weapon you once invented in a previous life.
The blast sends you flying. Sharp piercing pain shreds through your shoulder and chest, followed by a wet clammy sensation. You hear a loud scream and realise it was your own involuntary noise. You've been silent so long you forgot the sound of your own voice.
The next thing you realise is that you have a large bone shard poking through the centre of your chest. It's not yours.
'The bloody thing just pierced right through me.' The thought stuns you. You've been running for so long that the thought of actually dying is a sudden surprise. But here it is at last. Death staring at you from a bone shard in the chest.
A heavy weight thuds onto your legs and you groan. Then you see the girl from before. She's running her hands across your body, checking the injuries. Then she looks up at you.
No, she looks at you. And you feel the cold chill of true shock. She pulls out a knife and with an apologetic smile drives it towards your face.
'She too has one good eye.'
Everything turns dark with the settling blindness of death.
|
January 24, 2046, one fine day. Helios-2 was shining bright and strong as Sol faded into the background. Whilst living in the shadows amongst the cargo wasn't great, at least it was not on Earth. The previous presidency in the years 2016-2024 completely destroyed the atmosphere and land rendering it unlivable.
Diseases once extinct came back to life, and the world was swept by waves of human denial of environmental change and strife. I grimaced as I remember the last words of my father -- 'Live', as he pushed me into the crate before I was moved into the huge space boat, I believe they call it - the Ark.
I'm always a glass half full kinda person -- you had to be if you grew up like me. Things could only be better moving forward, especially since I pretty much have unlimited food and drink. Frozen and packed , but well it's food, and food is.. yummy. As I was contemplating to hit that next pack of ice cold sushi, I felt a sharp pain in my left of my head. I was caught.
Or so I thought. Turns out I may have eaten something that I should not. The last thing I remember is falling down on pillows and clouds..
​
.. Except it wasn't. It must have been an eternity before I woke up and found myself in the medicbay. The auto-ambulances must have found me in the cargo area and sent me here. Crap. I am going to be sent back to that god-forsaken land we once called home. Crap.
'You OK?' came a soothing female voice. 'I am... here to help. What is your problem?'. Figured that I might as well go home healthy, I blurted out - 'Yeah I'm fine, just some scratches and my headache is really hurting and --- CLANG! I growled in pain and annoyance as my right hand hit some equipment on a desk which is invisible to me.
'Try not to move, we are all in the same boat, remain calm.' said the voice. The same boat? What boat is that? This one? The Ark? 'It's OK' - she said. 'Our best minds are at work and we will be able to see once the digital eye is developed. In the mean time, HAL will help us get our lives in order as our top minds solve the problem. If only we can get a copy of a working human eye from Earth.. Assuming we turn around, we should get there in a few.. Oh, sorry. Your ID number please?'
I bolted from the door. Knocking the right panel clean off before they can realize I still have vision in one eye. It was my chance to be a king in this new world! And I am definitely not going to be stuck in a lab somewhere.
.
.
.
January 24, 2064. I am alive. Barely. Humanity has lost all vision as the only humans left are the ones on the Ark. Let's just say someone made sure that happened. Because as they say, in the land of the blind, the one eyed man is king.
​
Until he is caught and blinded, not for science, but those corrupt --
​
r/omnomnom_kv
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[WP] "In the land of the blind, the one eyed man is king." Untrue, as it turns out. When a mysterious energy wave swept the world and took away vision for humans, you were the only one left with an eye, the wealthy and powerful are hunting you down for your working eyeball.
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Hidden in the dense and quiet forest, the one eyed man awaits the blind. The pack of killers and beggars who've bestowed the title of 'The Hunt' have pursued him in the same manner as a team of wolves would stalk it's wounded prey. He is elusive and cunning. And when the moment is appropriate, violent.
The hunt have been re-inventing the methods in which they pursue there lonely target. As of late they have been belligerently scorching the immense woodland in hopes of smoking him out and taking the sight-seer. The morning is quiet and damp. The surrounding oak tree's seem to rocket upward into the empty sky. The ground is littered with dead leaves and broken branches, and in every direction the man can see, the forest envelops itself in a sort of camouflage. He holds in his gloved hand a pistol with five bullets. When they arrive, he knows that he must run. He can't die yet. Not until he finds her.
A flock of birds soar overhead in a sporadic fashion, flapping there wings with the sole purpose of escaping looming threat. A scream catches the attention of the cyclops. The first has fallen into his trap. He listens intently as the mob desperately attempts to organize themselves.
"Please help me! I can't move and it hurts!" An adolescent male squeals.
"What has happened boy?" The familiar tone of the leader asks.
"It's everywhere! Like knives. My legs are stuck on something and if i move it hurts!" The boy says in agonizing pain. He fallen several feet into a pit of crudely sharpened wooden barbs.
"I'm sorry child. There is nothing we can do for you. We have to move forward and find him."
"Don't leave me! Please don't leave me! I just need someone to help pull me out."
"We can't waste the time. He's close." The man says. He hold in his hand a metal rod utilized for feeling out the terrain ahead of him. He stands near the center of the hunt, several dozen other men and women surround him and await further instruction. "Forward." He says simply and apologetically. The mass moves north cautiously, feeling for the thick moistness of moss on the peeling trunks of the tree's they approach.
The one eyed man grips the cold steel receiver of his weapon and pushes in through the forest toward the hunt. In slow even steps, he carefully and deliberately places each foot down on the soft foundation of the earth, avoiding any means with which could alert the enemy of his proximity. Not until the time is right.
He squints his eye at the circular formation of the hunt, they quietly drop the ends of there rods and spears on the ground in front of them to communicate. 'Almost' He thinks to himself. He orients himself to a position to the left of them and steps on top of a thick branch. The snap echos through out the forest and causes the group to halt immediately. He takes aim with his pistol, targeting the closest threat and squeezes the metal trigger, allowing the chain reaction of the hammer driving into the primer to surprise him. The explosion of the gunpowder initiating leaves the rest of the group entirely motionless.
"Where is she?" The cyclops ask, his weapon aimed at the next target. Silence. Another gun shot deafens the ominous silence, followed by the heavy thud of a body crumbling to the dirt. "Where is she?!" He yells, this time not waiting before eliminating another one.
"She could be dead for all I know." The old man says, standing with his weight resting on the end of the metal rod he's holding. "Give me the eye and i'll tell you for sure. You can't kill all of us."
Another bullet enters the skull of one of them, this one only a child the cyclops thinks to himself. A single tear running down his withered cheek. "Just fucking tell me."
"Or what?" Will you kill me? The only one who knows where she is. She's getting big by the way. Almost two now. She said 'Dada' the other day. It was cute.
The final bullet enters the leg of the old man, dropping him to a knee. "You mother fucker." The old man says, he looks in the direction of the shooter, envisioning what his face looks like at this moment. The cyclops releases the slide of his weapon and pulls the trigger again. This time only a faint click can be heard. "He's out. Kill him!" one of the members screams, foolishly charging the man with one eye. The group rushing forward trip a thin line of rope holding the counter-weight of a 300 pound log, releasing the trap and sending it recklessly driving into the crowd killing all but two.
The cyclops approaches a woman lying in agony behind the old man. He reaches down and picks up a stone equal in size to his own fist. "Tell me where she is or I will fucking kill this woman!"
"Go ahead, she knows the score." The man says clutching the entry wound on his leg.
The cyclops lifts the rock above his head. He steps forward and places the weight of his body and the forward momentum of his swing into his leg and is about to drive down when out of the silence a heavy, raspy voice can be heard.
"Wait." The voice says slowly, "I know where she is. Help me and I can bring you to her."
"You fucking dumb bitch!" The old man growls, "You fucking arrogant lying cunt! She lying to you." The man says dropping to both knees. He slowly feels his way toward where he heard the last foot fall with his worn out hands. "She will fucking kill you and take that God damn eye with her as quickly as she'd let you fuck her!"
"Where is she?" The cyclops cuts of the man.
"Help me and i will tell you-"
"She's fucking lying. You lying bitch! She'll only kill you boy!"
"Quiet now." The cyclops says calmly, before striking the old man in the head. The wet crunch from his decrepit skull caving in carrying with it a serene silence.
"I won't hurt you." The woman lying on the ground grunted.
"I know. Help me." The cyclops said reaching out to help the woman stand.
"She is close. Move north." She said as she wrapped her arm around the broad shoulders of the man she has hunted for months. "And she misses you."
|
January 24, 2046, one fine day. Helios-2 was shining bright and strong as Sol faded into the background. Whilst living in the shadows amongst the cargo wasn't great, at least it was not on Earth. The previous presidency in the years 2016-2024 completely destroyed the atmosphere and land rendering it unlivable.
Diseases once extinct came back to life, and the world was swept by waves of human denial of environmental change and strife. I grimaced as I remember the last words of my father -- 'Live', as he pushed me into the crate before I was moved into the huge space boat, I believe they call it - the Ark.
I'm always a glass half full kinda person -- you had to be if you grew up like me. Things could only be better moving forward, especially since I pretty much have unlimited food and drink. Frozen and packed , but well it's food, and food is.. yummy. As I was contemplating to hit that next pack of ice cold sushi, I felt a sharp pain in my left of my head. I was caught.
Or so I thought. Turns out I may have eaten something that I should not. The last thing I remember is falling down on pillows and clouds..
​
.. Except it wasn't. It must have been an eternity before I woke up and found myself in the medicbay. The auto-ambulances must have found me in the cargo area and sent me here. Crap. I am going to be sent back to that god-forsaken land we once called home. Crap.
'You OK?' came a soothing female voice. 'I am... here to help. What is your problem?'. Figured that I might as well go home healthy, I blurted out - 'Yeah I'm fine, just some scratches and my headache is really hurting and --- CLANG! I growled in pain and annoyance as my right hand hit some equipment on a desk which is invisible to me.
'Try not to move, we are all in the same boat, remain calm.' said the voice. The same boat? What boat is that? This one? The Ark? 'It's OK' - she said. 'Our best minds are at work and we will be able to see once the digital eye is developed. In the mean time, HAL will help us get our lives in order as our top minds solve the problem. If only we can get a copy of a working human eye from Earth.. Assuming we turn around, we should get there in a few.. Oh, sorry. Your ID number please?'
I bolted from the door. Knocking the right panel clean off before they can realize I still have vision in one eye. It was my chance to be a king in this new world! And I am definitely not going to be stuck in a lab somewhere.
.
.
.
January 24, 2064. I am alive. Barely. Humanity has lost all vision as the only humans left are the ones on the Ark. Let's just say someone made sure that happened. Because as they say, in the land of the blind, the one eyed man is king.
​
Until he is caught and blinded, not for science, but those corrupt --
​
r/omnomnom_kv
|
|
[WP] "In the land of the blind, the one eyed man is king." Untrue, as it turns out. When a mysterious energy wave swept the world and took away vision for humans, you were the only one left with an eye, the wealthy and powerful are hunting you down for your working eyeball.
|
“Come here, Babs!” I called to my dog. She trotted over to me, and bowed her head, allowing me to attach her to her leash. Babs licked my hand, and led me to my door. Gripping the doorknob, I walked outside.
It was truly a miserable sight. The sky was grey and thick with smog as smoke filled the air. Cars covered the roads, now having no true purpose anymore. Everything seemed rundown, as if an entire army had invaded and ruined everything in their sight. But...no. Some sort of government experiment had gone wrong, and when some mysterious energy or gas filled the air, it managed to blind everyone. Everyone but me, or so it seems.
It was a horrible curse. There was no exceptions, even for myself, as my left eye had gone completely blind, and my right was blurry whenever I stared at long distances for too long. If I’m correct, thats far sighted. Though I can’t remember exactly. It didn’t matter anyway, as the world seemed like a wasteland filled with people.
“Fuck-!” A female bellowed. Turning my head, I watched as a female fell straight onto her face. She stifled a loud groan, and stood back up with her stick, and walked away. I frowned. Despite my newfound freedom and everything thats happened, I’ve felt extremely depressed. Oh, and did I forget to mention that some people have figured out that I can see? I’ve learned from listening to the radio that people are out to find me. It’s a scary thought, honestly. I’ve went too many nights sleepless, completely paranoid that they are going to find me.
I began walking down the road. Twisting and turning in between overturned cars and rundown buildings. Suddenly, I felt a hand clasp hard around my shoulder.
“What the hell are you doing!” I bellowed to the mysterious man.
“You can see, can’t you?” He snarled, hastily turning me around. I gazed into his eyes. They were a sickening milky white, with black infused tears streaming down his cheeks leaving marks that looked similar to mascara. I frowned deeply.
“No- I-I-I can’t see.” I stuttered.
He squinted hard, trying his best to see, before sighing. “I can’t prove you can...” He shook his head, gazing hard at the ground. “Go away...”
After he had let go, I slowly walked away. My dog was a barking fit, though, I was extremely confused. How the hell did he know I was standing there, much less was able to grab me while I was *walking* ...?
What was happening to this world? And why was *I* the only one left with sight?
|
January 24, 2046, one fine day. Helios-2 was shining bright and strong as Sol faded into the background. Whilst living in the shadows amongst the cargo wasn't great, at least it was not on Earth. The previous presidency in the years 2016-2024 completely destroyed the atmosphere and land rendering it unlivable.
Diseases once extinct came back to life, and the world was swept by waves of human denial of environmental change and strife. I grimaced as I remember the last words of my father -- 'Live', as he pushed me into the crate before I was moved into the huge space boat, I believe they call it - the Ark.
I'm always a glass half full kinda person -- you had to be if you grew up like me. Things could only be better moving forward, especially since I pretty much have unlimited food and drink. Frozen and packed , but well it's food, and food is.. yummy. As I was contemplating to hit that next pack of ice cold sushi, I felt a sharp pain in my left of my head. I was caught.
Or so I thought. Turns out I may have eaten something that I should not. The last thing I remember is falling down on pillows and clouds..
​
.. Except it wasn't. It must have been an eternity before I woke up and found myself in the medicbay. The auto-ambulances must have found me in the cargo area and sent me here. Crap. I am going to be sent back to that god-forsaken land we once called home. Crap.
'You OK?' came a soothing female voice. 'I am... here to help. What is your problem?'. Figured that I might as well go home healthy, I blurted out - 'Yeah I'm fine, just some scratches and my headache is really hurting and --- CLANG! I growled in pain and annoyance as my right hand hit some equipment on a desk which is invisible to me.
'Try not to move, we are all in the same boat, remain calm.' said the voice. The same boat? What boat is that? This one? The Ark? 'It's OK' - she said. 'Our best minds are at work and we will be able to see once the digital eye is developed. In the mean time, HAL will help us get our lives in order as our top minds solve the problem. If only we can get a copy of a working human eye from Earth.. Assuming we turn around, we should get there in a few.. Oh, sorry. Your ID number please?'
I bolted from the door. Knocking the right panel clean off before they can realize I still have vision in one eye. It was my chance to be a king in this new world! And I am definitely not going to be stuck in a lab somewhere.
.
.
.
January 24, 2064. I am alive. Barely. Humanity has lost all vision as the only humans left are the ones on the Ark. Let's just say someone made sure that happened. Because as they say, in the land of the blind, the one eyed man is king.
​
Until he is caught and blinded, not for science, but those corrupt --
​
r/omnomnom_kv
|
|
[WP] "In the land of the blind, the one eyed man is king." Untrue, as it turns out. When a mysterious energy wave swept the world and took away vision for humans, you were the only one left with an eye, the wealthy and powerful are hunting you down for your working eyeball.
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Day 25. I've just discovered that the wealthy and powerful are hunting me down for my one remaining working eyeball.
And, Diary, I DON'T CARE! Look at me! I'm dancing like nobody's watching. Because they CAN'T!!! One Two Cha-cha-cha. Three Four Cha-cha-cha. You can't SEE me, suckers! Ha ha ha! Am I doing the Samba? Am I crunking? You don't fucking know! Maybe I'm fucking moonwalking!
Dan-cing like no-body's watch-ing! Dan-cing like no-body's watch-ing! Come get my eyeball, fuckers. This boy's got music in his soul and taps on his shoes! Ain't nobody gonna stop me from dancing- like nobody's watching.
|
January 24, 2046, one fine day. Helios-2 was shining bright and strong as Sol faded into the background. Whilst living in the shadows amongst the cargo wasn't great, at least it was not on Earth. The previous presidency in the years 2016-2024 completely destroyed the atmosphere and land rendering it unlivable.
Diseases once extinct came back to life, and the world was swept by waves of human denial of environmental change and strife. I grimaced as I remember the last words of my father -- 'Live', as he pushed me into the crate before I was moved into the huge space boat, I believe they call it - the Ark.
I'm always a glass half full kinda person -- you had to be if you grew up like me. Things could only be better moving forward, especially since I pretty much have unlimited food and drink. Frozen and packed , but well it's food, and food is.. yummy. As I was contemplating to hit that next pack of ice cold sushi, I felt a sharp pain in my left of my head. I was caught.
Or so I thought. Turns out I may have eaten something that I should not. The last thing I remember is falling down on pillows and clouds..
​
.. Except it wasn't. It must have been an eternity before I woke up and found myself in the medicbay. The auto-ambulances must have found me in the cargo area and sent me here. Crap. I am going to be sent back to that god-forsaken land we once called home. Crap.
'You OK?' came a soothing female voice. 'I am... here to help. What is your problem?'. Figured that I might as well go home healthy, I blurted out - 'Yeah I'm fine, just some scratches and my headache is really hurting and --- CLANG! I growled in pain and annoyance as my right hand hit some equipment on a desk which is invisible to me.
'Try not to move, we are all in the same boat, remain calm.' said the voice. The same boat? What boat is that? This one? The Ark? 'It's OK' - she said. 'Our best minds are at work and we will be able to see once the digital eye is developed. In the mean time, HAL will help us get our lives in order as our top minds solve the problem. If only we can get a copy of a working human eye from Earth.. Assuming we turn around, we should get there in a few.. Oh, sorry. Your ID number please?'
I bolted from the door. Knocking the right panel clean off before they can realize I still have vision in one eye. It was my chance to be a king in this new world! And I am definitely not going to be stuck in a lab somewhere.
.
.
.
January 24, 2064. I am alive. Barely. Humanity has lost all vision as the only humans left are the ones on the Ark. Let's just say someone made sure that happened. Because as they say, in the land of the blind, the one eyed man is king.
​
Until he is caught and blinded, not for science, but those corrupt --
​
r/omnomnom_kv
|
|
[WP] "In the land of the blind, the one eyed man is king." Untrue, as it turns out. When a mysterious energy wave swept the world and took away vision for humans, you were the only one left with an eye, the wealthy and powerful are hunting you down for your working eyeball.
|
There is a legend about a time when people could not just feel and hear, but also see.
Sight is a difficult sense to describe, but it's something like the ability to feel the silent whispers of everything around you. The whispers tell you how something will feel before you touch it, who someone is before they shout out their name, and how badly a body will smell before you get near enough to smell it.
Everyone knows the legend is true because we all still have eyes, they just don't work. The legend says that a curse spread across the entire planet and took sight away from all mankind, except for a single man who was left with the last working eye. The man with the sight.
That man was my father. He told me about how he tried to help his quaint little town and for awhile they were able to keep some remnant of their former lives going.
​
Then came the day that killed hope, when the second child was born. When the first child was born, people still had hope that there might still be a chance for the sight of the next generation to save everything, that things might go back to normal.
Since my father was the only one who could see, he was the only one who could easily determine if the children could as well. The baby's eyes were open but didn't follow any of his movements. When he told the parents, they were outraged and first accused him of lying, then accused him of stealing the baby's sight in order to maintain his own. Their accusations caused hysteria to run rampant across the entire town, and word of a selfish man with sight got to the city next door.
​
A week later, that city was burning. The heat of the flames were just a warm night breeze to the townspeople and my father was bitter about what he had been accused of, so he didn't bother to tell them otherwise.
Though that ended up not mattering as dawn had not broken when the first of the refugees came grasping at the street in the orange glow, yelling out stories of the horrors they had seen.
The small packs of cannibal arsonists who moved silently, looking for something to cook their latest catch on before it went bad or waiting for their next prey to walk by. They referred to themselves as "omnivores".
The smell of feces and garbage everywhere that made the sense almost useless.
The armored legion was gaining territory, controlled by the city's mayor who was already being called "The Emperor" by his troops.
The refugees told him that the armored legion was on their way to find the man who could still see. Some parts of the city were burned down entirely in order to clear out the cannibals quickly to ensure a more secure path.
My father was afraid, afraid for his life, afraid of what someone else might do if they had his power. So he ran. He mixed in with the bands of refugees and left his quaint little town behind. They wouldn't be able to catch him, so long as he traveled faster than word of his existence. From there he went from one crumbling society to the next, careful not to expose his power, yet still hoping to meet someone else who could see.
He never did.
​
One day he found a woman who had been left to die in a ditch outside of the walls of the town. She had been exiled for trying to steal food during the noisiest part of the day. She was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen, but beauty doesn't mean much to a town full of people who can't see. He nursed her back to health and they lived a happy life together.
When I was old enough, they taught me about how the sight worked.
"It must be given freely and out of love," Mother said.
"Just remember that you might not get it back." Father quipped.
Then they let me see for the first time. Everything talked to me at once and I couldn't stop crying. Everything had something to say and I could finally listen. With this power came great temptations, but I remembered my father's words and realized that they might be anxious about me running off with the sight. Not wanting them to worry, I gave it back soon afterwards.
​
After my mother died, my father didn't find much joy in having the sight. He pushed me to take it for longer and longer periods of time, until one day he didn't want it anymore.
"I want you to take it and go out there and do good things with it. You have the power to fix the problems wherever you go." He said.
We argued for days, but eventually I caved. I made sure every reserve tool was texture coded and that the medical supplies were full before setting out.
"Just promise me you won't share the sight with someone evil." He pleaded.
"We'll see." I said.
He laughed for the first time in a long time and waved goodbye.
"I'm waving goodbye too." I shouted.
He went back inside with a smile on his face. That was the last that I saw of the man of which the legends are told.
----
Edit: Fixed some formatting.
|
January 24, 2046, one fine day. Helios-2 was shining bright and strong as Sol faded into the background. Whilst living in the shadows amongst the cargo wasn't great, at least it was not on Earth. The previous presidency in the years 2016-2024 completely destroyed the atmosphere and land rendering it unlivable.
Diseases once extinct came back to life, and the world was swept by waves of human denial of environmental change and strife. I grimaced as I remember the last words of my father -- 'Live', as he pushed me into the crate before I was moved into the huge space boat, I believe they call it - the Ark.
I'm always a glass half full kinda person -- you had to be if you grew up like me. Things could only be better moving forward, especially since I pretty much have unlimited food and drink. Frozen and packed , but well it's food, and food is.. yummy. As I was contemplating to hit that next pack of ice cold sushi, I felt a sharp pain in my left of my head. I was caught.
Or so I thought. Turns out I may have eaten something that I should not. The last thing I remember is falling down on pillows and clouds..
​
.. Except it wasn't. It must have been an eternity before I woke up and found myself in the medicbay. The auto-ambulances must have found me in the cargo area and sent me here. Crap. I am going to be sent back to that god-forsaken land we once called home. Crap.
'You OK?' came a soothing female voice. 'I am... here to help. What is your problem?'. Figured that I might as well go home healthy, I blurted out - 'Yeah I'm fine, just some scratches and my headache is really hurting and --- CLANG! I growled in pain and annoyance as my right hand hit some equipment on a desk which is invisible to me.
'Try not to move, we are all in the same boat, remain calm.' said the voice. The same boat? What boat is that? This one? The Ark? 'It's OK' - she said. 'Our best minds are at work and we will be able to see once the digital eye is developed. In the mean time, HAL will help us get our lives in order as our top minds solve the problem. If only we can get a copy of a working human eye from Earth.. Assuming we turn around, we should get there in a few.. Oh, sorry. Your ID number please?'
I bolted from the door. Knocking the right panel clean off before they can realize I still have vision in one eye. It was my chance to be a king in this new world! And I am definitely not going to be stuck in a lab somewhere.
.
.
.
January 24, 2064. I am alive. Barely. Humanity has lost all vision as the only humans left are the ones on the Ark. Let's just say someone made sure that happened. Because as they say, in the land of the blind, the one eyed man is king.
​
Until he is caught and blinded, not for science, but those corrupt --
​
r/omnomnom_kv
|
|
[WP] "In the land of the blind, the one eyed man is king." Untrue, as it turns out. When a mysterious energy wave swept the world and took away vision for humans, you were the only one left with an eye, the wealthy and powerful are hunting you down for your working eyeball.
|
From the bell tower, I look down below at the once lush green meadow covered in a serene sheet of white. Over this blanket of crisp snow, I can see a horde of black dots slowly moving towards the tower. Sighing to myself, I slowly lean over my notebook and scribble down the thoughts swirling inside my mind. I turn on the radio and take a deep breath.
"A very good afternoon to everyone listening in. It is a beautiful day for love. The temperature today is -14 degrees. You may feel the cold leave a brisk chill in your bones, but it somehow makes the warmth feel even more invaluable at this point in time. To those still lamenting that they cannot see, I have written something about love. I hope you like listening to it."
I clear my throat, and take a deep breath.
*To the lonely lighthouses,
suffering in broad daylight,
creating seas with all your salty tears;
the world will never know
how valuable you are
till all the light you have, disappears.*
"Call me on 022-342-65543 if you liked it or even have some beautiful words of your own to add. It would be my honor to read them out to those that have tuned in to listen."
A loud clattering disrupts the silence. I instantly know that they've broken down the bottom door, and are slowly feeling their way up the winding stairs to the top of the bell tower.
I leave the broadcasting unit on, and turn the pages of my diary to read something more. I do not know why, but poetry comes to me in times of great peril.
"Ladies and gentlemen, this might be the last time you hear my voice and my humble words. I want to tell you that being a one eyed man has been more punishing than being completely blind. There are those that hunt me down only because I have dared to share the beauty of the light. So before I leave, here is my goodbye. If I make it out alive, you will hear from me again, this I promise you. But if you don't, let this poem be my last one to you "
*I can see the end of our fading love,
a thousand suns before it's in sight,
like autumn knows of the dying earth,
before winter comes to mourn in white.*
"Stay safe. Never let the light leave your heart."
The door to the top floor blows open with a terrific bang. About thirty men make their way into the small room; dressed in various colours but wielding long scimitars. The man in front; Luthor Lebrand, the general of the sightless army, had hunted me down time and again. But with the blessing of one good eye, I had always evaded him, even from the very clutches of death.
I slowly pull out the wires of the radio, and soundlessly take a few steps towards the window. I look down, and see a drop of nearly 60 feet; with only soft snow to break a terrifying fall.
"Men, careful. I smell something awry in this room..." says Luthor. "Zahran! Come peacefully with us. We are thirty of the finest soldiers, trained in the shadows to kill without seeing. You are but one puny weakling. Surrender, and we may still let you live after we have your eye."
I smile to myself as I see them slowly inch forward. I violently kick the barrel of kerosene kept next to the window, making it spill across the room. A strong, pungent odour instantly sours the crisp air.
"What was that?!" shouts Luther.
I pull out the match box from my pocket and strike a match. I take another deep breath and toss the match into the kerosene. I smile as I say the words.
*The world mocked,
the solitary matchstick,
till the day it started,
a forest fire.*
As the flames erupt, I hold firmly on to my radio set and leap out of the window. I hear screams of horror and terror from the tower, but they grow fainter as I fall through the icy air, hurtling faster towards winter's embrace.
r/whiteshadowthebook
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January 24, 2046, one fine day. Helios-2 was shining bright and strong as Sol faded into the background. Whilst living in the shadows amongst the cargo wasn't great, at least it was not on Earth. The previous presidency in the years 2016-2024 completely destroyed the atmosphere and land rendering it unlivable.
Diseases once extinct came back to life, and the world was swept by waves of human denial of environmental change and strife. I grimaced as I remember the last words of my father -- 'Live', as he pushed me into the crate before I was moved into the huge space boat, I believe they call it - the Ark.
I'm always a glass half full kinda person -- you had to be if you grew up like me. Things could only be better moving forward, especially since I pretty much have unlimited food and drink. Frozen and packed , but well it's food, and food is.. yummy. As I was contemplating to hit that next pack of ice cold sushi, I felt a sharp pain in my left of my head. I was caught.
Or so I thought. Turns out I may have eaten something that I should not. The last thing I remember is falling down on pillows and clouds..
​
.. Except it wasn't. It must have been an eternity before I woke up and found myself in the medicbay. The auto-ambulances must have found me in the cargo area and sent me here. Crap. I am going to be sent back to that god-forsaken land we once called home. Crap.
'You OK?' came a soothing female voice. 'I am... here to help. What is your problem?'. Figured that I might as well go home healthy, I blurted out - 'Yeah I'm fine, just some scratches and my headache is really hurting and --- CLANG! I growled in pain and annoyance as my right hand hit some equipment on a desk which is invisible to me.
'Try not to move, we are all in the same boat, remain calm.' said the voice. The same boat? What boat is that? This one? The Ark? 'It's OK' - she said. 'Our best minds are at work and we will be able to see once the digital eye is developed. In the mean time, HAL will help us get our lives in order as our top minds solve the problem. If only we can get a copy of a working human eye from Earth.. Assuming we turn around, we should get there in a few.. Oh, sorry. Your ID number please?'
I bolted from the door. Knocking the right panel clean off before they can realize I still have vision in one eye. It was my chance to be a king in this new world! And I am definitely not going to be stuck in a lab somewhere.
.
.
.
January 24, 2064. I am alive. Barely. Humanity has lost all vision as the only humans left are the ones on the Ark. Let's just say someone made sure that happened. Because as they say, in the land of the blind, the one eyed man is king.
​
Until he is caught and blinded, not for science, but those corrupt --
​
r/omnomnom_kv
|
|
[WP] "In the land of the blind, the one eyed man is king." Untrue, as it turns out. When a mysterious energy wave swept the world and took away vision for humans, you were the only one left with an eye, the wealthy and powerful are hunting you down for your working eyeball.
|
How could they find me, you ask? It was simple. They spread out, everywhere. Every house, every store, every street, every sidewalk and restaurant and mall, everywhere, they were there. And, as though that were not enough, they would taunt me. They would call out to me.
They only said one thing, but really, it was the only thing they had to say. Because they knew, they *knew* I had no choice but to reply. None at all.
They would call my name.
"Marco."
And I... damned as I was... I would answer in the only way I could:
"Polo."
|
January 24, 2046, one fine day. Helios-2 was shining bright and strong as Sol faded into the background. Whilst living in the shadows amongst the cargo wasn't great, at least it was not on Earth. The previous presidency in the years 2016-2024 completely destroyed the atmosphere and land rendering it unlivable.
Diseases once extinct came back to life, and the world was swept by waves of human denial of environmental change and strife. I grimaced as I remember the last words of my father -- 'Live', as he pushed me into the crate before I was moved into the huge space boat, I believe they call it - the Ark.
I'm always a glass half full kinda person -- you had to be if you grew up like me. Things could only be better moving forward, especially since I pretty much have unlimited food and drink. Frozen and packed , but well it's food, and food is.. yummy. As I was contemplating to hit that next pack of ice cold sushi, I felt a sharp pain in my left of my head. I was caught.
Or so I thought. Turns out I may have eaten something that I should not. The last thing I remember is falling down on pillows and clouds..
​
.. Except it wasn't. It must have been an eternity before I woke up and found myself in the medicbay. The auto-ambulances must have found me in the cargo area and sent me here. Crap. I am going to be sent back to that god-forsaken land we once called home. Crap.
'You OK?' came a soothing female voice. 'I am... here to help. What is your problem?'. Figured that I might as well go home healthy, I blurted out - 'Yeah I'm fine, just some scratches and my headache is really hurting and --- CLANG! I growled in pain and annoyance as my right hand hit some equipment on a desk which is invisible to me.
'Try not to move, we are all in the same boat, remain calm.' said the voice. The same boat? What boat is that? This one? The Ark? 'It's OK' - she said. 'Our best minds are at work and we will be able to see once the digital eye is developed. In the mean time, HAL will help us get our lives in order as our top minds solve the problem. If only we can get a copy of a working human eye from Earth.. Assuming we turn around, we should get there in a few.. Oh, sorry. Your ID number please?'
I bolted from the door. Knocking the right panel clean off before they can realize I still have vision in one eye. It was my chance to be a king in this new world! And I am definitely not going to be stuck in a lab somewhere.
.
.
.
January 24, 2064. I am alive. Barely. Humanity has lost all vision as the only humans left are the ones on the Ark. Let's just say someone made sure that happened. Because as they say, in the land of the blind, the one eyed man is king.
​
Until he is caught and blinded, not for science, but those corrupt --
​
r/omnomnom_kv
|
|
[WP] "In the land of the blind, the one eyed man is king." Untrue, as it turns out. When a mysterious energy wave swept the world and took away vision for humans, you were the only one left with an eye, the wealthy and powerful are hunting you down for your working eyeball.
|
Hidden in the dense and quiet forest, the one eyed man awaits the blind. The pack of killers and beggars who've bestowed the title of 'The Hunt' have pursued him in the same manner as a team of wolves would stalk it's wounded prey. He is elusive and cunning. And when the moment is appropriate, violent.
The hunt have been re-inventing the methods in which they pursue there lonely target. As of late they have been belligerently scorching the immense woodland in hopes of smoking him out and taking the sight-seer. The morning is quiet and damp. The surrounding oak tree's seem to rocket upward into the empty sky. The ground is littered with dead leaves and broken branches, and in every direction the man can see, the forest envelops itself in a sort of camouflage. He holds in his gloved hand a pistol with five bullets. When they arrive, he knows that he must run. He can't die yet. Not until he finds her.
A flock of birds soar overhead in a sporadic fashion, flapping there wings with the sole purpose of escaping looming threat. A scream catches the attention of the cyclops. The first has fallen into his trap. He listens intently as the mob desperately attempts to organize themselves.
"Please help me! I can't move and it hurts!" An adolescent male squeals.
"What has happened boy?" The familiar tone of the leader asks.
"It's everywhere! Like knives. My legs are stuck on something and if i move it hurts!" The boy says in agonizing pain. He fallen several feet into a pit of crudely sharpened wooden barbs.
"I'm sorry child. There is nothing we can do for you. We have to move forward and find him."
"Don't leave me! Please don't leave me! I just need someone to help pull me out."
"We can't waste the time. He's close." The man says. He hold in his hand a metal rod utilized for feeling out the terrain ahead of him. He stands near the center of the hunt, several dozen other men and women surround him and await further instruction. "Forward." He says simply and apologetically. The mass moves north cautiously, feeling for the thick moistness of moss on the peeling trunks of the tree's they approach.
The one eyed man grips the cold steel receiver of his weapon and pushes in through the forest toward the hunt. In slow even steps, he carefully and deliberately places each foot down on the soft foundation of the earth, avoiding any means with which could alert the enemy of his proximity. Not until the time is right.
He squints his eye at the circular formation of the hunt, they quietly drop the ends of there rods and spears on the ground in front of them to communicate. 'Almost' He thinks to himself. He orients himself to a position to the left of them and steps on top of a thick branch. The snap echos through out the forest and causes the group to halt immediately. He takes aim with his pistol, targeting the closest threat and squeezes the metal trigger, allowing the chain reaction of the hammer driving into the primer to surprise him. The explosion of the gunpowder initiating leaves the rest of the group entirely motionless.
"Where is she?" The cyclops ask, his weapon aimed at the next target. Silence. Another gun shot deafens the ominous silence, followed by the heavy thud of a body crumbling to the dirt. "Where is she?!" He yells, this time not waiting before eliminating another one.
"She could be dead for all I know." The old man says, standing with his weight resting on the end of the metal rod he's holding. "Give me the eye and i'll tell you for sure. You can't kill all of us."
Another bullet enters the skull of one of them, this one only a child the cyclops thinks to himself. A single tear running down his withered cheek. "Just fucking tell me."
"Or what?" Will you kill me? The only one who knows where she is. She's getting big by the way. Almost two now. She said 'Dada' the other day. It was cute.
The final bullet enters the leg of the old man, dropping him to a knee. "You mother fucker." The old man says, he looks in the direction of the shooter, envisioning what his face looks like at this moment. The cyclops releases the slide of his weapon and pulls the trigger again. This time only a faint click can be heard. "He's out. Kill him!" one of the members screams, foolishly charging the man with one eye. The group rushing forward trip a thin line of rope holding the counter-weight of a 300 pound log, releasing the trap and sending it recklessly driving into the crowd killing all but two.
The cyclops approaches a woman lying in agony behind the old man. He reaches down and picks up a stone equal in size to his own fist. "Tell me where she is or I will fucking kill this woman!"
"Go ahead, she knows the score." The man says clutching the entry wound on his leg.
The cyclops lifts the rock above his head. He steps forward and places the weight of his body and the forward momentum of his swing into his leg and is about to drive down when out of the silence a heavy, raspy voice can be heard.
"Wait." The voice says slowly, "I know where she is. Help me and I can bring you to her."
"You fucking dumb bitch!" The old man growls, "You fucking arrogant lying cunt! She lying to you." The man says dropping to both knees. He slowly feels his way toward where he heard the last foot fall with his worn out hands. "She will fucking kill you and take that God damn eye with her as quickly as she'd let you fuck her!"
"Where is she?" The cyclops cuts of the man.
"Help me and i will tell you-"
"She's fucking lying. You lying bitch! She'll only kill you boy!"
"Quiet now." The cyclops says calmly, before striking the old man in the head. The wet crunch from his decrepit skull caving in carrying with it a serene silence.
"I won't hurt you." The woman lying on the ground grunted.
"I know. Help me." The cyclops said reaching out to help the woman stand.
"She is close. Move north." She said as she wrapped her arm around the broad shoulders of the man she has hunted for months. "And she misses you."
|
Note: apologies for any spelling or grammar as I was writing this on my phone because I had to capture the idea that came to mind.
"I've got it." The sudden noise wakes you from your afternoon nap among the waste. "I've got the seeing eye."
You turn your head slightly, human waste tumbling off your neck. You've grown used to the smells and to not taking care of yourself. You've also grown used to silence. So you look at the speaker.
She is a young girl - possibly pre-adolescent but it is difficult for you to judge. She is as scrawny as she is tall, a small wasted shadow with ragged clothes, matted mud splattered hair that was probably once brown and she is holding up a round object. Even from a close range you can barely tell it is an eyeball.
'No. Used to be an eyeball,' you think. Dripping with gore and no doubt stinking of decay. You can't help but wonder why a lone girl in the Graveyards would believe it was the one seeing eye. 'My bloody eye.'
The scavengers are onto her in a flash, rising up from the surrounding piles of bones. Their crazed mouths drool, saliva cascading across their chests: you count at least ten of the creatures. And for a moment you pity them. Until you remember cynically that they were the reason you had come to the Graveyards all those years ago.
The Crazies, would tear anyone to pieces for a taste of flesh. They had some strange religion based around devouring the sightless eyes of non-believers. All of which was meant to give you a modicum of safety from the outside world.
The past fifteen years brought nothing but hell. Running from the sightless world administrators who realised the value of your one seeing eye.
Damn, you are some reverse Sauron. You smile at the thought, then grimace as the Crazies close in on the little girl. It's never been pleasant to watch intruders torn to shreds.
Of course, while you realise sheer luck brought you to the Graveyard and the Crazies, you refuse to accept this reality. Luck is for the blind.
You blink as the girl tosses the eye down onto the ground. Any thoughts about the corpse she stole it from cease as the eye rolls down across the bone stacks, blinking with a single red light. Then a flash illuminates everything in blinding white light and the Crazies scream as fire rinses away their insanity.
It takes half a second for the flare to hit you. You have no time to respond except to realise that the eyeball was, in stead, a Hellfire Grenade. A weapon you once invented in a previous life.
The blast sends you flying. Sharp piercing pain shreds through your shoulder and chest, followed by a wet clammy sensation. You hear a loud scream and realise it was your own involuntary noise. You've been silent so long you forgot the sound of your own voice.
The next thing you realise is that you have a large bone shard poking through the centre of your chest. It's not yours.
'The bloody thing just pierced right through me.' The thought stuns you. You've been running for so long that the thought of actually dying is a sudden surprise. But here it is at last. Death staring at you from a bone shard in the chest.
A heavy weight thuds onto your legs and you groan. Then you see the girl from before. She's running her hands across your body, checking the injuries. Then she looks up at you.
No, she looks at you. And you feel the cold chill of true shock. She pulls out a knife and with an apologetic smile drives it towards your face.
'She too has one good eye.'
Everything turns dark with the settling blindness of death.
|
|
[WP] "In the land of the blind, the one eyed man is king." Untrue, as it turns out. When a mysterious energy wave swept the world and took away vision for humans, you were the only one left with an eye, the wealthy and powerful are hunting you down for your working eyeball.
|
“Come here, Babs!” I called to my dog. She trotted over to me, and bowed her head, allowing me to attach her to her leash. Babs licked my hand, and led me to my door. Gripping the doorknob, I walked outside.
It was truly a miserable sight. The sky was grey and thick with smog as smoke filled the air. Cars covered the roads, now having no true purpose anymore. Everything seemed rundown, as if an entire army had invaded and ruined everything in their sight. But...no. Some sort of government experiment had gone wrong, and when some mysterious energy or gas filled the air, it managed to blind everyone. Everyone but me, or so it seems.
It was a horrible curse. There was no exceptions, even for myself, as my left eye had gone completely blind, and my right was blurry whenever I stared at long distances for too long. If I’m correct, thats far sighted. Though I can’t remember exactly. It didn’t matter anyway, as the world seemed like a wasteland filled with people.
“Fuck-!” A female bellowed. Turning my head, I watched as a female fell straight onto her face. She stifled a loud groan, and stood back up with her stick, and walked away. I frowned. Despite my newfound freedom and everything thats happened, I’ve felt extremely depressed. Oh, and did I forget to mention that some people have figured out that I can see? I’ve learned from listening to the radio that people are out to find me. It’s a scary thought, honestly. I’ve went too many nights sleepless, completely paranoid that they are going to find me.
I began walking down the road. Twisting and turning in between overturned cars and rundown buildings. Suddenly, I felt a hand clasp hard around my shoulder.
“What the hell are you doing!” I bellowed to the mysterious man.
“You can see, can’t you?” He snarled, hastily turning me around. I gazed into his eyes. They were a sickening milky white, with black infused tears streaming down his cheeks leaving marks that looked similar to mascara. I frowned deeply.
“No- I-I-I can’t see.” I stuttered.
He squinted hard, trying his best to see, before sighing. “I can’t prove you can...” He shook his head, gazing hard at the ground. “Go away...”
After he had let go, I slowly walked away. My dog was a barking fit, though, I was extremely confused. How the hell did he know I was standing there, much less was able to grab me while I was *walking* ...?
What was happening to this world? And why was *I* the only one left with sight?
|
Note: apologies for any spelling or grammar as I was writing this on my phone because I had to capture the idea that came to mind.
"I've got it." The sudden noise wakes you from your afternoon nap among the waste. "I've got the seeing eye."
You turn your head slightly, human waste tumbling off your neck. You've grown used to the smells and to not taking care of yourself. You've also grown used to silence. So you look at the speaker.
She is a young girl - possibly pre-adolescent but it is difficult for you to judge. She is as scrawny as she is tall, a small wasted shadow with ragged clothes, matted mud splattered hair that was probably once brown and she is holding up a round object. Even from a close range you can barely tell it is an eyeball.
'No. Used to be an eyeball,' you think. Dripping with gore and no doubt stinking of decay. You can't help but wonder why a lone girl in the Graveyards would believe it was the one seeing eye. 'My bloody eye.'
The scavengers are onto her in a flash, rising up from the surrounding piles of bones. Their crazed mouths drool, saliva cascading across their chests: you count at least ten of the creatures. And for a moment you pity them. Until you remember cynically that they were the reason you had come to the Graveyards all those years ago.
The Crazies, would tear anyone to pieces for a taste of flesh. They had some strange religion based around devouring the sightless eyes of non-believers. All of which was meant to give you a modicum of safety from the outside world.
The past fifteen years brought nothing but hell. Running from the sightless world administrators who realised the value of your one seeing eye.
Damn, you are some reverse Sauron. You smile at the thought, then grimace as the Crazies close in on the little girl. It's never been pleasant to watch intruders torn to shreds.
Of course, while you realise sheer luck brought you to the Graveyard and the Crazies, you refuse to accept this reality. Luck is for the blind.
You blink as the girl tosses the eye down onto the ground. Any thoughts about the corpse she stole it from cease as the eye rolls down across the bone stacks, blinking with a single red light. Then a flash illuminates everything in blinding white light and the Crazies scream as fire rinses away their insanity.
It takes half a second for the flare to hit you. You have no time to respond except to realise that the eyeball was, in stead, a Hellfire Grenade. A weapon you once invented in a previous life.
The blast sends you flying. Sharp piercing pain shreds through your shoulder and chest, followed by a wet clammy sensation. You hear a loud scream and realise it was your own involuntary noise. You've been silent so long you forgot the sound of your own voice.
The next thing you realise is that you have a large bone shard poking through the centre of your chest. It's not yours.
'The bloody thing just pierced right through me.' The thought stuns you. You've been running for so long that the thought of actually dying is a sudden surprise. But here it is at last. Death staring at you from a bone shard in the chest.
A heavy weight thuds onto your legs and you groan. Then you see the girl from before. She's running her hands across your body, checking the injuries. Then she looks up at you.
No, she looks at you. And you feel the cold chill of true shock. She pulls out a knife and with an apologetic smile drives it towards your face.
'She too has one good eye.'
Everything turns dark with the settling blindness of death.
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|
[WP] "In the land of the blind, the one eyed man is king." Untrue, as it turns out. When a mysterious energy wave swept the world and took away vision for humans, you were the only one left with an eye, the wealthy and powerful are hunting you down for your working eyeball.
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Day 25. I've just discovered that the wealthy and powerful are hunting me down for my one remaining working eyeball.
And, Diary, I DON'T CARE! Look at me! I'm dancing like nobody's watching. Because they CAN'T!!! One Two Cha-cha-cha. Three Four Cha-cha-cha. You can't SEE me, suckers! Ha ha ha! Am I doing the Samba? Am I crunking? You don't fucking know! Maybe I'm fucking moonwalking!
Dan-cing like no-body's watch-ing! Dan-cing like no-body's watch-ing! Come get my eyeball, fuckers. This boy's got music in his soul and taps on his shoes! Ain't nobody gonna stop me from dancing- like nobody's watching.
|
Note: apologies for any spelling or grammar as I was writing this on my phone because I had to capture the idea that came to mind.
"I've got it." The sudden noise wakes you from your afternoon nap among the waste. "I've got the seeing eye."
You turn your head slightly, human waste tumbling off your neck. You've grown used to the smells and to not taking care of yourself. You've also grown used to silence. So you look at the speaker.
She is a young girl - possibly pre-adolescent but it is difficult for you to judge. She is as scrawny as she is tall, a small wasted shadow with ragged clothes, matted mud splattered hair that was probably once brown and she is holding up a round object. Even from a close range you can barely tell it is an eyeball.
'No. Used to be an eyeball,' you think. Dripping with gore and no doubt stinking of decay. You can't help but wonder why a lone girl in the Graveyards would believe it was the one seeing eye. 'My bloody eye.'
The scavengers are onto her in a flash, rising up from the surrounding piles of bones. Their crazed mouths drool, saliva cascading across their chests: you count at least ten of the creatures. And for a moment you pity them. Until you remember cynically that they were the reason you had come to the Graveyards all those years ago.
The Crazies, would tear anyone to pieces for a taste of flesh. They had some strange religion based around devouring the sightless eyes of non-believers. All of which was meant to give you a modicum of safety from the outside world.
The past fifteen years brought nothing but hell. Running from the sightless world administrators who realised the value of your one seeing eye.
Damn, you are some reverse Sauron. You smile at the thought, then grimace as the Crazies close in on the little girl. It's never been pleasant to watch intruders torn to shreds.
Of course, while you realise sheer luck brought you to the Graveyard and the Crazies, you refuse to accept this reality. Luck is for the blind.
You blink as the girl tosses the eye down onto the ground. Any thoughts about the corpse she stole it from cease as the eye rolls down across the bone stacks, blinking with a single red light. Then a flash illuminates everything in blinding white light and the Crazies scream as fire rinses away their insanity.
It takes half a second for the flare to hit you. You have no time to respond except to realise that the eyeball was, in stead, a Hellfire Grenade. A weapon you once invented in a previous life.
The blast sends you flying. Sharp piercing pain shreds through your shoulder and chest, followed by a wet clammy sensation. You hear a loud scream and realise it was your own involuntary noise. You've been silent so long you forgot the sound of your own voice.
The next thing you realise is that you have a large bone shard poking through the centre of your chest. It's not yours.
'The bloody thing just pierced right through me.' The thought stuns you. You've been running for so long that the thought of actually dying is a sudden surprise. But here it is at last. Death staring at you from a bone shard in the chest.
A heavy weight thuds onto your legs and you groan. Then you see the girl from before. She's running her hands across your body, checking the injuries. Then she looks up at you.
No, she looks at you. And you feel the cold chill of true shock. She pulls out a knife and with an apologetic smile drives it towards your face.
'She too has one good eye.'
Everything turns dark with the settling blindness of death.
|
|
[WP] "In the land of the blind, the one eyed man is king." Untrue, as it turns out. When a mysterious energy wave swept the world and took away vision for humans, you were the only one left with an eye, the wealthy and powerful are hunting you down for your working eyeball.
|
There is a legend about a time when people could not just feel and hear, but also see.
Sight is a difficult sense to describe, but it's something like the ability to feel the silent whispers of everything around you. The whispers tell you how something will feel before you touch it, who someone is before they shout out their name, and how badly a body will smell before you get near enough to smell it.
Everyone knows the legend is true because we all still have eyes, they just don't work. The legend says that a curse spread across the entire planet and took sight away from all mankind, except for a single man who was left with the last working eye. The man with the sight.
That man was my father. He told me about how he tried to help his quaint little town and for awhile they were able to keep some remnant of their former lives going.
​
Then came the day that killed hope, when the second child was born. When the first child was born, people still had hope that there might still be a chance for the sight of the next generation to save everything, that things might go back to normal.
Since my father was the only one who could see, he was the only one who could easily determine if the children could as well. The baby's eyes were open but didn't follow any of his movements. When he told the parents, they were outraged and first accused him of lying, then accused him of stealing the baby's sight in order to maintain his own. Their accusations caused hysteria to run rampant across the entire town, and word of a selfish man with sight got to the city next door.
​
A week later, that city was burning. The heat of the flames were just a warm night breeze to the townspeople and my father was bitter about what he had been accused of, so he didn't bother to tell them otherwise.
Though that ended up not mattering as dawn had not broken when the first of the refugees came grasping at the street in the orange glow, yelling out stories of the horrors they had seen.
The small packs of cannibal arsonists who moved silently, looking for something to cook their latest catch on before it went bad or waiting for their next prey to walk by. They referred to themselves as "omnivores".
The smell of feces and garbage everywhere that made the sense almost useless.
The armored legion was gaining territory, controlled by the city's mayor who was already being called "The Emperor" by his troops.
The refugees told him that the armored legion was on their way to find the man who could still see. Some parts of the city were burned down entirely in order to clear out the cannibals quickly to ensure a more secure path.
My father was afraid, afraid for his life, afraid of what someone else might do if they had his power. So he ran. He mixed in with the bands of refugees and left his quaint little town behind. They wouldn't be able to catch him, so long as he traveled faster than word of his existence. From there he went from one crumbling society to the next, careful not to expose his power, yet still hoping to meet someone else who could see.
He never did.
​
One day he found a woman who had been left to die in a ditch outside of the walls of the town. She had been exiled for trying to steal food during the noisiest part of the day. She was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen, but beauty doesn't mean much to a town full of people who can't see. He nursed her back to health and they lived a happy life together.
When I was old enough, they taught me about how the sight worked.
"It must be given freely and out of love," Mother said.
"Just remember that you might not get it back." Father quipped.
Then they let me see for the first time. Everything talked to me at once and I couldn't stop crying. Everything had something to say and I could finally listen. With this power came great temptations, but I remembered my father's words and realized that they might be anxious about me running off with the sight. Not wanting them to worry, I gave it back soon afterwards.
​
After my mother died, my father didn't find much joy in having the sight. He pushed me to take it for longer and longer periods of time, until one day he didn't want it anymore.
"I want you to take it and go out there and do good things with it. You have the power to fix the problems wherever you go." He said.
We argued for days, but eventually I caved. I made sure every reserve tool was texture coded and that the medical supplies were full before setting out.
"Just promise me you won't share the sight with someone evil." He pleaded.
"We'll see." I said.
He laughed for the first time in a long time and waved goodbye.
"I'm waving goodbye too." I shouted.
He went back inside with a smile on his face. That was the last that I saw of the man of which the legends are told.
----
Edit: Fixed some formatting.
|
Note: apologies for any spelling or grammar as I was writing this on my phone because I had to capture the idea that came to mind.
"I've got it." The sudden noise wakes you from your afternoon nap among the waste. "I've got the seeing eye."
You turn your head slightly, human waste tumbling off your neck. You've grown used to the smells and to not taking care of yourself. You've also grown used to silence. So you look at the speaker.
She is a young girl - possibly pre-adolescent but it is difficult for you to judge. She is as scrawny as she is tall, a small wasted shadow with ragged clothes, matted mud splattered hair that was probably once brown and she is holding up a round object. Even from a close range you can barely tell it is an eyeball.
'No. Used to be an eyeball,' you think. Dripping with gore and no doubt stinking of decay. You can't help but wonder why a lone girl in the Graveyards would believe it was the one seeing eye. 'My bloody eye.'
The scavengers are onto her in a flash, rising up from the surrounding piles of bones. Their crazed mouths drool, saliva cascading across their chests: you count at least ten of the creatures. And for a moment you pity them. Until you remember cynically that they were the reason you had come to the Graveyards all those years ago.
The Crazies, would tear anyone to pieces for a taste of flesh. They had some strange religion based around devouring the sightless eyes of non-believers. All of which was meant to give you a modicum of safety from the outside world.
The past fifteen years brought nothing but hell. Running from the sightless world administrators who realised the value of your one seeing eye.
Damn, you are some reverse Sauron. You smile at the thought, then grimace as the Crazies close in on the little girl. It's never been pleasant to watch intruders torn to shreds.
Of course, while you realise sheer luck brought you to the Graveyard and the Crazies, you refuse to accept this reality. Luck is for the blind.
You blink as the girl tosses the eye down onto the ground. Any thoughts about the corpse she stole it from cease as the eye rolls down across the bone stacks, blinking with a single red light. Then a flash illuminates everything in blinding white light and the Crazies scream as fire rinses away their insanity.
It takes half a second for the flare to hit you. You have no time to respond except to realise that the eyeball was, in stead, a Hellfire Grenade. A weapon you once invented in a previous life.
The blast sends you flying. Sharp piercing pain shreds through your shoulder and chest, followed by a wet clammy sensation. You hear a loud scream and realise it was your own involuntary noise. You've been silent so long you forgot the sound of your own voice.
The next thing you realise is that you have a large bone shard poking through the centre of your chest. It's not yours.
'The bloody thing just pierced right through me.' The thought stuns you. You've been running for so long that the thought of actually dying is a sudden surprise. But here it is at last. Death staring at you from a bone shard in the chest.
A heavy weight thuds onto your legs and you groan. Then you see the girl from before. She's running her hands across your body, checking the injuries. Then she looks up at you.
No, she looks at you. And you feel the cold chill of true shock. She pulls out a knife and with an apologetic smile drives it towards your face.
'She too has one good eye.'
Everything turns dark with the settling blindness of death.
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[WP] "In the land of the blind, the one eyed man is king." Untrue, as it turns out. When a mysterious energy wave swept the world and took away vision for humans, you were the only one left with an eye, the wealthy and powerful are hunting you down for your working eyeball.
|
There is a legend about a time when people could not just feel and hear, but also see.
Sight is a difficult sense to describe, but it's something like the ability to feel the silent whispers of everything around you. The whispers tell you how something will feel before you touch it, who someone is before they shout out their name, and how badly a body will smell before you get near enough to smell it.
Everyone knows the legend is true because we all still have eyes, they just don't work. The legend says that a curse spread across the entire planet and took sight away from all mankind, except for a single man who was left with the last working eye. The man with the sight.
That man was my father. He told me about how he tried to help his quaint little town and for awhile they were able to keep some remnant of their former lives going.
​
Then came the day that killed hope, when the second child was born. When the first child was born, people still had hope that there might still be a chance for the sight of the next generation to save everything, that things might go back to normal.
Since my father was the only one who could see, he was the only one who could easily determine if the children could as well. The baby's eyes were open but didn't follow any of his movements. When he told the parents, they were outraged and first accused him of lying, then accused him of stealing the baby's sight in order to maintain his own. Their accusations caused hysteria to run rampant across the entire town, and word of a selfish man with sight got to the city next door.
​
A week later, that city was burning. The heat of the flames were just a warm night breeze to the townspeople and my father was bitter about what he had been accused of, so he didn't bother to tell them otherwise.
Though that ended up not mattering as dawn had not broken when the first of the refugees came grasping at the street in the orange glow, yelling out stories of the horrors they had seen.
The small packs of cannibal arsonists who moved silently, looking for something to cook their latest catch on before it went bad or waiting for their next prey to walk by. They referred to themselves as "omnivores".
The smell of feces and garbage everywhere that made the sense almost useless.
The armored legion was gaining territory, controlled by the city's mayor who was already being called "The Emperor" by his troops.
The refugees told him that the armored legion was on their way to find the man who could still see. Some parts of the city were burned down entirely in order to clear out the cannibals quickly to ensure a more secure path.
My father was afraid, afraid for his life, afraid of what someone else might do if they had his power. So he ran. He mixed in with the bands of refugees and left his quaint little town behind. They wouldn't be able to catch him, so long as he traveled faster than word of his existence. From there he went from one crumbling society to the next, careful not to expose his power, yet still hoping to meet someone else who could see.
He never did.
​
One day he found a woman who had been left to die in a ditch outside of the walls of the town. She had been exiled for trying to steal food during the noisiest part of the day. She was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen, but beauty doesn't mean much to a town full of people who can't see. He nursed her back to health and they lived a happy life together.
When I was old enough, they taught me about how the sight worked.
"It must be given freely and out of love," Mother said.
"Just remember that you might not get it back." Father quipped.
Then they let me see for the first time. Everything talked to me at once and I couldn't stop crying. Everything had something to say and I could finally listen. With this power came great temptations, but I remembered my father's words and realized that they might be anxious about me running off with the sight. Not wanting them to worry, I gave it back soon afterwards.
​
After my mother died, my father didn't find much joy in having the sight. He pushed me to take it for longer and longer periods of time, until one day he didn't want it anymore.
"I want you to take it and go out there and do good things with it. You have the power to fix the problems wherever you go." He said.
We argued for days, but eventually I caved. I made sure every reserve tool was texture coded and that the medical supplies were full before setting out.
"Just promise me you won't share the sight with someone evil." He pleaded.
"We'll see." I said.
He laughed for the first time in a long time and waved goodbye.
"I'm waving goodbye too." I shouted.
He went back inside with a smile on his face. That was the last that I saw of the man of which the legends are told.
----
Edit: Fixed some formatting.
|
Hidden in the dense and quiet forest, the one eyed man awaits the blind. The pack of killers and beggars who've bestowed the title of 'The Hunt' have pursued him in the same manner as a team of wolves would stalk it's wounded prey. He is elusive and cunning. And when the moment is appropriate, violent.
The hunt have been re-inventing the methods in which they pursue there lonely target. As of late they have been belligerently scorching the immense woodland in hopes of smoking him out and taking the sight-seer. The morning is quiet and damp. The surrounding oak tree's seem to rocket upward into the empty sky. The ground is littered with dead leaves and broken branches, and in every direction the man can see, the forest envelops itself in a sort of camouflage. He holds in his gloved hand a pistol with five bullets. When they arrive, he knows that he must run. He can't die yet. Not until he finds her.
A flock of birds soar overhead in a sporadic fashion, flapping there wings with the sole purpose of escaping looming threat. A scream catches the attention of the cyclops. The first has fallen into his trap. He listens intently as the mob desperately attempts to organize themselves.
"Please help me! I can't move and it hurts!" An adolescent male squeals.
"What has happened boy?" The familiar tone of the leader asks.
"It's everywhere! Like knives. My legs are stuck on something and if i move it hurts!" The boy says in agonizing pain. He fallen several feet into a pit of crudely sharpened wooden barbs.
"I'm sorry child. There is nothing we can do for you. We have to move forward and find him."
"Don't leave me! Please don't leave me! I just need someone to help pull me out."
"We can't waste the time. He's close." The man says. He hold in his hand a metal rod utilized for feeling out the terrain ahead of him. He stands near the center of the hunt, several dozen other men and women surround him and await further instruction. "Forward." He says simply and apologetically. The mass moves north cautiously, feeling for the thick moistness of moss on the peeling trunks of the tree's they approach.
The one eyed man grips the cold steel receiver of his weapon and pushes in through the forest toward the hunt. In slow even steps, he carefully and deliberately places each foot down on the soft foundation of the earth, avoiding any means with which could alert the enemy of his proximity. Not until the time is right.
He squints his eye at the circular formation of the hunt, they quietly drop the ends of there rods and spears on the ground in front of them to communicate. 'Almost' He thinks to himself. He orients himself to a position to the left of them and steps on top of a thick branch. The snap echos through out the forest and causes the group to halt immediately. He takes aim with his pistol, targeting the closest threat and squeezes the metal trigger, allowing the chain reaction of the hammer driving into the primer to surprise him. The explosion of the gunpowder initiating leaves the rest of the group entirely motionless.
"Where is she?" The cyclops ask, his weapon aimed at the next target. Silence. Another gun shot deafens the ominous silence, followed by the heavy thud of a body crumbling to the dirt. "Where is she?!" He yells, this time not waiting before eliminating another one.
"She could be dead for all I know." The old man says, standing with his weight resting on the end of the metal rod he's holding. "Give me the eye and i'll tell you for sure. You can't kill all of us."
Another bullet enters the skull of one of them, this one only a child the cyclops thinks to himself. A single tear running down his withered cheek. "Just fucking tell me."
"Or what?" Will you kill me? The only one who knows where she is. She's getting big by the way. Almost two now. She said 'Dada' the other day. It was cute.
The final bullet enters the leg of the old man, dropping him to a knee. "You mother fucker." The old man says, he looks in the direction of the shooter, envisioning what his face looks like at this moment. The cyclops releases the slide of his weapon and pulls the trigger again. This time only a faint click can be heard. "He's out. Kill him!" one of the members screams, foolishly charging the man with one eye. The group rushing forward trip a thin line of rope holding the counter-weight of a 300 pound log, releasing the trap and sending it recklessly driving into the crowd killing all but two.
The cyclops approaches a woman lying in agony behind the old man. He reaches down and picks up a stone equal in size to his own fist. "Tell me where she is or I will fucking kill this woman!"
"Go ahead, she knows the score." The man says clutching the entry wound on his leg.
The cyclops lifts the rock above his head. He steps forward and places the weight of his body and the forward momentum of his swing into his leg and is about to drive down when out of the silence a heavy, raspy voice can be heard.
"Wait." The voice says slowly, "I know where she is. Help me and I can bring you to her."
"You fucking dumb bitch!" The old man growls, "You fucking arrogant lying cunt! She lying to you." The man says dropping to both knees. He slowly feels his way toward where he heard the last foot fall with his worn out hands. "She will fucking kill you and take that God damn eye with her as quickly as she'd let you fuck her!"
"Where is she?" The cyclops cuts of the man.
"Help me and i will tell you-"
"She's fucking lying. You lying bitch! She'll only kill you boy!"
"Quiet now." The cyclops says calmly, before striking the old man in the head. The wet crunch from his decrepit skull caving in carrying with it a serene silence.
"I won't hurt you." The woman lying on the ground grunted.
"I know. Help me." The cyclops said reaching out to help the woman stand.
"She is close. Move north." She said as she wrapped her arm around the broad shoulders of the man she has hunted for months. "And she misses you."
|
|
[WP] "In the land of the blind, the one eyed man is king." Untrue, as it turns out. When a mysterious energy wave swept the world and took away vision for humans, you were the only one left with an eye, the wealthy and powerful are hunting you down for your working eyeball.
|
There is a legend about a time when people could not just feel and hear, but also see.
Sight is a difficult sense to describe, but it's something like the ability to feel the silent whispers of everything around you. The whispers tell you how something will feel before you touch it, who someone is before they shout out their name, and how badly a body will smell before you get near enough to smell it.
Everyone knows the legend is true because we all still have eyes, they just don't work. The legend says that a curse spread across the entire planet and took sight away from all mankind, except for a single man who was left with the last working eye. The man with the sight.
That man was my father. He told me about how he tried to help his quaint little town and for awhile they were able to keep some remnant of their former lives going.
​
Then came the day that killed hope, when the second child was born. When the first child was born, people still had hope that there might still be a chance for the sight of the next generation to save everything, that things might go back to normal.
Since my father was the only one who could see, he was the only one who could easily determine if the children could as well. The baby's eyes were open but didn't follow any of his movements. When he told the parents, they were outraged and first accused him of lying, then accused him of stealing the baby's sight in order to maintain his own. Their accusations caused hysteria to run rampant across the entire town, and word of a selfish man with sight got to the city next door.
​
A week later, that city was burning. The heat of the flames were just a warm night breeze to the townspeople and my father was bitter about what he had been accused of, so he didn't bother to tell them otherwise.
Though that ended up not mattering as dawn had not broken when the first of the refugees came grasping at the street in the orange glow, yelling out stories of the horrors they had seen.
The small packs of cannibal arsonists who moved silently, looking for something to cook their latest catch on before it went bad or waiting for their next prey to walk by. They referred to themselves as "omnivores".
The smell of feces and garbage everywhere that made the sense almost useless.
The armored legion was gaining territory, controlled by the city's mayor who was already being called "The Emperor" by his troops.
The refugees told him that the armored legion was on their way to find the man who could still see. Some parts of the city were burned down entirely in order to clear out the cannibals quickly to ensure a more secure path.
My father was afraid, afraid for his life, afraid of what someone else might do if they had his power. So he ran. He mixed in with the bands of refugees and left his quaint little town behind. They wouldn't be able to catch him, so long as he traveled faster than word of his existence. From there he went from one crumbling society to the next, careful not to expose his power, yet still hoping to meet someone else who could see.
He never did.
​
One day he found a woman who had been left to die in a ditch outside of the walls of the town. She had been exiled for trying to steal food during the noisiest part of the day. She was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen, but beauty doesn't mean much to a town full of people who can't see. He nursed her back to health and they lived a happy life together.
When I was old enough, they taught me about how the sight worked.
"It must be given freely and out of love," Mother said.
"Just remember that you might not get it back." Father quipped.
Then they let me see for the first time. Everything talked to me at once and I couldn't stop crying. Everything had something to say and I could finally listen. With this power came great temptations, but I remembered my father's words and realized that they might be anxious about me running off with the sight. Not wanting them to worry, I gave it back soon afterwards.
​
After my mother died, my father didn't find much joy in having the sight. He pushed me to take it for longer and longer periods of time, until one day he didn't want it anymore.
"I want you to take it and go out there and do good things with it. You have the power to fix the problems wherever you go." He said.
We argued for days, but eventually I caved. I made sure every reserve tool was texture coded and that the medical supplies were full before setting out.
"Just promise me you won't share the sight with someone evil." He pleaded.
"We'll see." I said.
He laughed for the first time in a long time and waved goodbye.
"I'm waving goodbye too." I shouted.
He went back inside with a smile on his face. That was the last that I saw of the man of which the legends are told.
----
Edit: Fixed some formatting.
|
“Come here, Babs!” I called to my dog. She trotted over to me, and bowed her head, allowing me to attach her to her leash. Babs licked my hand, and led me to my door. Gripping the doorknob, I walked outside.
It was truly a miserable sight. The sky was grey and thick with smog as smoke filled the air. Cars covered the roads, now having no true purpose anymore. Everything seemed rundown, as if an entire army had invaded and ruined everything in their sight. But...no. Some sort of government experiment had gone wrong, and when some mysterious energy or gas filled the air, it managed to blind everyone. Everyone but me, or so it seems.
It was a horrible curse. There was no exceptions, even for myself, as my left eye had gone completely blind, and my right was blurry whenever I stared at long distances for too long. If I’m correct, thats far sighted. Though I can’t remember exactly. It didn’t matter anyway, as the world seemed like a wasteland filled with people.
“Fuck-!” A female bellowed. Turning my head, I watched as a female fell straight onto her face. She stifled a loud groan, and stood back up with her stick, and walked away. I frowned. Despite my newfound freedom and everything thats happened, I’ve felt extremely depressed. Oh, and did I forget to mention that some people have figured out that I can see? I’ve learned from listening to the radio that people are out to find me. It’s a scary thought, honestly. I’ve went too many nights sleepless, completely paranoid that they are going to find me.
I began walking down the road. Twisting and turning in between overturned cars and rundown buildings. Suddenly, I felt a hand clasp hard around my shoulder.
“What the hell are you doing!” I bellowed to the mysterious man.
“You can see, can’t you?” He snarled, hastily turning me around. I gazed into his eyes. They were a sickening milky white, with black infused tears streaming down his cheeks leaving marks that looked similar to mascara. I frowned deeply.
“No- I-I-I can’t see.” I stuttered.
He squinted hard, trying his best to see, before sighing. “I can’t prove you can...” He shook his head, gazing hard at the ground. “Go away...”
After he had let go, I slowly walked away. My dog was a barking fit, though, I was extremely confused. How the hell did he know I was standing there, much less was able to grab me while I was *walking* ...?
What was happening to this world? And why was *I* the only one left with sight?
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[WP] "In the land of the blind, the one eyed man is king." Untrue, as it turns out. When a mysterious energy wave swept the world and took away vision for humans, you were the only one left with an eye, the wealthy and powerful are hunting you down for your working eyeball.
|
There is a legend about a time when people could not just feel and hear, but also see.
Sight is a difficult sense to describe, but it's something like the ability to feel the silent whispers of everything around you. The whispers tell you how something will feel before you touch it, who someone is before they shout out their name, and how badly a body will smell before you get near enough to smell it.
Everyone knows the legend is true because we all still have eyes, they just don't work. The legend says that a curse spread across the entire planet and took sight away from all mankind, except for a single man who was left with the last working eye. The man with the sight.
That man was my father. He told me about how he tried to help his quaint little town and for awhile they were able to keep some remnant of their former lives going.
​
Then came the day that killed hope, when the second child was born. When the first child was born, people still had hope that there might still be a chance for the sight of the next generation to save everything, that things might go back to normal.
Since my father was the only one who could see, he was the only one who could easily determine if the children could as well. The baby's eyes were open but didn't follow any of his movements. When he told the parents, they were outraged and first accused him of lying, then accused him of stealing the baby's sight in order to maintain his own. Their accusations caused hysteria to run rampant across the entire town, and word of a selfish man with sight got to the city next door.
​
A week later, that city was burning. The heat of the flames were just a warm night breeze to the townspeople and my father was bitter about what he had been accused of, so he didn't bother to tell them otherwise.
Though that ended up not mattering as dawn had not broken when the first of the refugees came grasping at the street in the orange glow, yelling out stories of the horrors they had seen.
The small packs of cannibal arsonists who moved silently, looking for something to cook their latest catch on before it went bad or waiting for their next prey to walk by. They referred to themselves as "omnivores".
The smell of feces and garbage everywhere that made the sense almost useless.
The armored legion was gaining territory, controlled by the city's mayor who was already being called "The Emperor" by his troops.
The refugees told him that the armored legion was on their way to find the man who could still see. Some parts of the city were burned down entirely in order to clear out the cannibals quickly to ensure a more secure path.
My father was afraid, afraid for his life, afraid of what someone else might do if they had his power. So he ran. He mixed in with the bands of refugees and left his quaint little town behind. They wouldn't be able to catch him, so long as he traveled faster than word of his existence. From there he went from one crumbling society to the next, careful not to expose his power, yet still hoping to meet someone else who could see.
He never did.
​
One day he found a woman who had been left to die in a ditch outside of the walls of the town. She had been exiled for trying to steal food during the noisiest part of the day. She was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen, but beauty doesn't mean much to a town full of people who can't see. He nursed her back to health and they lived a happy life together.
When I was old enough, they taught me about how the sight worked.
"It must be given freely and out of love," Mother said.
"Just remember that you might not get it back." Father quipped.
Then they let me see for the first time. Everything talked to me at once and I couldn't stop crying. Everything had something to say and I could finally listen. With this power came great temptations, but I remembered my father's words and realized that they might be anxious about me running off with the sight. Not wanting them to worry, I gave it back soon afterwards.
​
After my mother died, my father didn't find much joy in having the sight. He pushed me to take it for longer and longer periods of time, until one day he didn't want it anymore.
"I want you to take it and go out there and do good things with it. You have the power to fix the problems wherever you go." He said.
We argued for days, but eventually I caved. I made sure every reserve tool was texture coded and that the medical supplies were full before setting out.
"Just promise me you won't share the sight with someone evil." He pleaded.
"We'll see." I said.
He laughed for the first time in a long time and waved goodbye.
"I'm waving goodbye too." I shouted.
He went back inside with a smile on his face. That was the last that I saw of the man of which the legends are told.
----
Edit: Fixed some formatting.
|
Day 25. I've just discovered that the wealthy and powerful are hunting me down for my one remaining working eyeball.
And, Diary, I DON'T CARE! Look at me! I'm dancing like nobody's watching. Because they CAN'T!!! One Two Cha-cha-cha. Three Four Cha-cha-cha. You can't SEE me, suckers! Ha ha ha! Am I doing the Samba? Am I crunking? You don't fucking know! Maybe I'm fucking moonwalking!
Dan-cing like no-body's watch-ing! Dan-cing like no-body's watch-ing! Come get my eyeball, fuckers. This boy's got music in his soul and taps on his shoes! Ain't nobody gonna stop me from dancing- like nobody's watching.
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[WP] "In the land of the blind, the one eyed man is king." Untrue, as it turns out. When a mysterious energy wave swept the world and took away vision for humans, you were the only one left with an eye, the wealthy and powerful are hunting you down for your working eyeball.
|
How could they find me, you ask? It was simple. They spread out, everywhere. Every house, every store, every street, every sidewalk and restaurant and mall, everywhere, they were there. And, as though that were not enough, they would taunt me. They would call out to me.
They only said one thing, but really, it was the only thing they had to say. Because they knew, they *knew* I had no choice but to reply. None at all.
They would call my name.
"Marco."
And I... damned as I was... I would answer in the only way I could:
"Polo."
|
From the bell tower, I look down below at the once lush green meadow covered in a serene sheet of white. Over this blanket of crisp snow, I can see a horde of black dots slowly moving towards the tower. Sighing to myself, I slowly lean over my notebook and scribble down the thoughts swirling inside my mind. I turn on the radio and take a deep breath.
"A very good afternoon to everyone listening in. It is a beautiful day for love. The temperature today is -14 degrees. You may feel the cold leave a brisk chill in your bones, but it somehow makes the warmth feel even more invaluable at this point in time. To those still lamenting that they cannot see, I have written something about love. I hope you like listening to it."
I clear my throat, and take a deep breath.
*To the lonely lighthouses,
suffering in broad daylight,
creating seas with all your salty tears;
the world will never know
how valuable you are
till all the light you have, disappears.*
"Call me on 022-342-65543 if you liked it or even have some beautiful words of your own to add. It would be my honor to read them out to those that have tuned in to listen."
A loud clattering disrupts the silence. I instantly know that they've broken down the bottom door, and are slowly feeling their way up the winding stairs to the top of the bell tower.
I leave the broadcasting unit on, and turn the pages of my diary to read something more. I do not know why, but poetry comes to me in times of great peril.
"Ladies and gentlemen, this might be the last time you hear my voice and my humble words. I want to tell you that being a one eyed man has been more punishing than being completely blind. There are those that hunt me down only because I have dared to share the beauty of the light. So before I leave, here is my goodbye. If I make it out alive, you will hear from me again, this I promise you. But if you don't, let this poem be my last one to you "
*I can see the end of our fading love,
a thousand suns before it's in sight,
like autumn knows of the dying earth,
before winter comes to mourn in white.*
"Stay safe. Never let the light leave your heart."
The door to the top floor blows open with a terrific bang. About thirty men make their way into the small room; dressed in various colours but wielding long scimitars. The man in front; Luthor Lebrand, the general of the sightless army, had hunted me down time and again. But with the blessing of one good eye, I had always evaded him, even from the very clutches of death.
I slowly pull out the wires of the radio, and soundlessly take a few steps towards the window. I look down, and see a drop of nearly 60 feet; with only soft snow to break a terrifying fall.
"Men, careful. I smell something awry in this room..." says Luthor. "Zahran! Come peacefully with us. We are thirty of the finest soldiers, trained in the shadows to kill without seeing. You are but one puny weakling. Surrender, and we may still let you live after we have your eye."
I smile to myself as I see them slowly inch forward. I violently kick the barrel of kerosene kept next to the window, making it spill across the room. A strong, pungent odour instantly sours the crisp air.
"What was that?!" shouts Luther.
I pull out the match box from my pocket and strike a match. I take another deep breath and toss the match into the kerosene. I smile as I say the words.
*The world mocked,
the solitary matchstick,
till the day it started,
a forest fire.*
As the flames erupt, I hold firmly on to my radio set and leap out of the window. I hear screams of horror and terror from the tower, but they grow fainter as I fall through the icy air, hurtling faster towards winter's embrace.
r/whiteshadowthebook
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[WP] You are the finest warrior in the land. When barbarians invade, you choose not to defend the capital but a small village in the thick of it. Your home town. Tell us the story of your last stand.
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I stood at the entrance to my home town looking in. They had kept my home while I was off in foreign lands. It looked great. But it was so far away,
“Sir, we are needed in the capital.” My second warned as he put his hand on my shoulder.
“Second. I have a task.” I said solemnly, still probing my home with my eyes. Everyone was obviously at the center of town in the stone bunker, hoping to be passed over from the oncoming horde.
“Sir?” Came the reply. Second was obviously confused.
“Who are our two fastest runners in armor?”
“Seventeen and Twenty-Six, sir.”
“Call them to us.” I pulled off my helmet and placed it upon the fence post. Second turned and called out for Seventeen and Twenty-Six. Moments later, footsteps burdened by armor came up behind us.
“Which of you would like to seek certain death to save your homeland?”
“I would,” they replied in unison. I turned around to look upon them.
“Very well, then. One will die and one will live. I apologize to both of you - one for their death and one for their grief.” I glanced between the pair, both being stoic and unemotional. “Seventeen. Move as fast as you can. Be a messenger to the barbarian leaders. Tell them that First of the Paladins will join them if their champion will beat me in combat, right here. I will fight as many as they dare bring.”
Seventeen looked between my face and Seconds’ and then slowly backed up and turned towards the road. Starting to run, he grabbed a green flag from the courier, the messenger flag.
Twenty-Six’s gaze followed his compatriots exit, then he turned back. “Twenty-Six, move as fast as you can. Be a messenger to the king. The other Paladins will follow in your wake to protect the Capitol. With luck, their finest will come here and there will be an easier defense.”
Twenty-Six gasped. He turned slowly and started running up the road in the opposite direction.
“Second? Take the Paladins. Up on my death, do not stand aside for the King’s whelp. Take your earned place as First.”
“B-but, First! You cannot do this!”
“Second. I am 62. I have spent forty years in the Paladins and my armor grows heavier by the day. I know how I can save this land and her people. I can ask it of no other.”
Second’s mind raged, the logic he heard assaulted the fortress of his emotions, finally finding a crack to wedge through. He grunted and slowly turned and went back to the assembled men and marched them towards the capitol.
***
A throng of barbarians marched up the hill towards me. They were obviously expecting a trap, but their honor could not be ignored. Behind the leaders, Seventeen was marched, his hands bound.
“Seventeen. Free yourself and go to the capitol.” Seventeen immediately dropped his arms from the binding, then grabbed his sword, shield, and helmet from the shocked guardsman and walked toward the road. Several guards quickly moved to subdue him and he ran them through as he kept moving towards the road.
“Let him be. I am the one you’re here for.”
The barbarian entourage turned and looked him over. His armor was laid out on the fence and he carried a sword.
“Gut him.” Came the order from the leader.
***
Of thirty men, 29 were still alive. They marched towards the small village with unnatural haste. They were ordered to recover the corpse of First and take it back to the King. Despite every person to a man who had heard the order believing it was a fools errand, the ruse had worked.
A vicious battle has ensued, but the barbarians were decimated, their remaining forces in disarray. The army was rounding them up and the Paladins were to honor their leader one last time.
The Paladins marched up the hill to an astonishing sight. Barbarian corpses were everywhere. He saw a glint on the opposite side of the hill - it was firsts armor arrayed on the fencing.
As they approached the center of the hill, a wind picked up and the figure of a man coalesced out of light. “First,” chuckles the light in the voice of who was First, “ I have ascended. Tell the King that I apologize for breaking my pact.” The form shattered and the light vanished.
Second fell to his knees in sorrow. His friend, his mentor, was gone.
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The alarms were sounded. The army was supposed to be out to combat. Either they'd been defeated, or they'd been avoided.
In either case, there was no escape. With the enemy at the gates, there was no escaping the city. I grabbed my sword, my hammer, and stuffed a knife in my boot. There was panic in the streets as I entered the city square. While others ran to the castle for safety, I walked to the bridge. It was the only way to enter the city proper from the outer reaches of the towns. It functioned as a moat, and for me, it would be a funnel.
I arrived at the bridge before the barbarians. There were people still escaping. Mothers, children, farmers and peasants all. I had once earned my keep from these good folk. They had revered me at a time. I grabbed the banner of our kingdom and placed it under my armor. It was a striking banner. A solid blue background, with a kite shield in red, emblazoned by a white lion's head. Bearing my hammer in my hands, I watched the barbarians approach the bridge. They could not swim, if my experience had still been true. They were born on and died on mountains. Their only experiences with water would be the rain.
The moat was as wide as a river, but the bridge could only fit a single carriage of people. They rushed like madmen. Tearing their way through the town on the outskirts of the village. I watched them slaughter people, but I knew that if I left the bridge the city would be all but lost.
The first barbarian approached the bridge with fervor. He swung his sword like a drunk, and was promptly killed when my hammer collided with his face. There was no scream, no cry of pain. His nose was crushed into his brain, and killed him instantly.
The second was more tactical, but too defensive. He attacked only once before being put on the defensive. He missed one block, my hammer shattered his arm. Before he could scream, his head was pulverized.
The third and forth attacked together. They seemed to be partners, brothers perhaps. They attacked in unison, only letting up so the other could get a few strikes in. I tripped one and pushed him over the edge of the bridge. I struck the other with the handle of my hammer, knocking the wind out of him. As he doubled over I hit him in the back of his head. Another critical kill. He couldn't even twitch before his body was completely shut down.
I was ambushed by the fifth, as I had had to turn around to fight the pair before him. He jumped on my back and attempted to shove a dagger in my throat. He stabbed my hand as I blocked the killing blow, and threw him off the side of the bridge.
I took the dagger from my hand and hurled it at the sixth. It was bleeding, but I couldn't feel it anymore. Nor could I seem to grip with it. Looks like I'm only gripping with my left hand. My weak hand. Irritating, but not impossible.
As the sixth barbarian reeled in pain from the dagger I'd just heaved into his eye, the seventh and eighth charged me. They were less coordinated than the pair who came before them. It was a simple matter to disarm one and kill the other.
The sixth was again charging me, but he didn't seem used to fighting with one eye, as he ran straight into my fist. It hurt me almost as much as him, but I could deal with it better. The one I had disarmed tried to take advantage of what he must have thought was an opening, and ended up either dead or paralyzed from taking a hammer to the back.
In any case, he wouldn't be opposing me any more.
There were still so many. This time three came at once. I could feel my age. I was rather spry, but I was nowhere near where I used to be. I shoved the handle of the hammer into one barbarian's mouth, pushing it with my damaged right hand while I reached for my sword with the one that still worked. I beheaded the other two in a flash, but the one currently choking on my hammer grabbed my foot and tripped me.
Luckily he was slow. I may have dropped the hammer, but I was able to get up before the next three approached at once. Now facing four opponents, they took up the width of the bridge. The sword I wielded was relatively short, so I couldn't afford to let them surround me. I grabbed the hammer as quickly as I could. Now I had further reach than them.
I waited for one of them to attack, a risky move seeing as they had even more reinforcements coming. As I parried one, the others took their opportunity. I grabbed one and used his body as a shield to block an incoming axe. His ally screamed in agony when he realized what I'd done. His attacks became wild and unsafe. I punished him easily by striking his throat and having him suffocate on his own Adam's apple. There were still more coming.
The battle was a dance of steel and passion. The barbarians were struggling to get footing on the corpses of their allies, and I amassed a slight advantage. I could get my footing properly while my enemies were fighting on difficult terrain.
I kept fighting, kept attacking. Twenty, then thirty. I lost count how many of them came. The river below us ran red from the blood dripping under the bridge. The bridge was sturdy. It had survived a hundred years before, and it would survive a hundred years more. Forty men slaughtered on the bridge. My age was catching up with me. My attacks were becoming slower, more lethargic. I threw the hammer over the edge as the next group approached. I would only use my sword now. My open hand would be for grappling, but only as far as my forearm and elbow. I could not grip a shield, though I would have liked to.
The fire in my soul was beginning to dim until I heard a call. The army had returned! I fought with renewed vigor. I was the sole defender of the bridge, I needed only to hold my enemies off until they could be surrounded. I continued my fight. My swings became weaker and weaker. I could not see my allies. The moment I did, I saw the end of the barbarians.
Unfortunately, the second I was distracted, I was defeated. A barbarian had slipped their sword into my belly, under my armor. I watched his face turn from anger to pleasure, surely now he would be honored! I dropped my sword, and reached for the dagger in my boot. He was so obsessed with my face, and watching me die, he could hardly have expected the dagger in his neck as I embraced him.
I slashed at the ankles of barbarians fleeing across the bridge to escape the army, but my time was up. I was in an incredible amount of pain. My muscles were sore, my hand was hurting, my gut was cut open. I had a pounding headache from the intense focus I'd needed for so many opponents. I moved to stand. I was bleeding even more than before, but I would not allow the banner of my kingdom to be trampled upon by these men who acted like beasts.
Using the side of the bridge, I stood. I took the banner from my back, and impaled it on one of the many corpses on the bridge.
Before it all faded to black, and I was no more.
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[WP] You are the finest warrior in the land. When barbarians invade, you choose not to defend the capital but a small village in the thick of it. Your home town. Tell us the story of your last stand.
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I stood at the entrance to my home town looking in. They had kept my home while I was off in foreign lands. It looked great. But it was so far away,
“Sir, we are needed in the capital.” My second warned as he put his hand on my shoulder.
“Second. I have a task.” I said solemnly, still probing my home with my eyes. Everyone was obviously at the center of town in the stone bunker, hoping to be passed over from the oncoming horde.
“Sir?” Came the reply. Second was obviously confused.
“Who are our two fastest runners in armor?”
“Seventeen and Twenty-Six, sir.”
“Call them to us.” I pulled off my helmet and placed it upon the fence post. Second turned and called out for Seventeen and Twenty-Six. Moments later, footsteps burdened by armor came up behind us.
“Which of you would like to seek certain death to save your homeland?”
“I would,” they replied in unison. I turned around to look upon them.
“Very well, then. One will die and one will live. I apologize to both of you - one for their death and one for their grief.” I glanced between the pair, both being stoic and unemotional. “Seventeen. Move as fast as you can. Be a messenger to the barbarian leaders. Tell them that First of the Paladins will join them if their champion will beat me in combat, right here. I will fight as many as they dare bring.”
Seventeen looked between my face and Seconds’ and then slowly backed up and turned towards the road. Starting to run, he grabbed a green flag from the courier, the messenger flag.
Twenty-Six’s gaze followed his compatriots exit, then he turned back. “Twenty-Six, move as fast as you can. Be a messenger to the king. The other Paladins will follow in your wake to protect the Capitol. With luck, their finest will come here and there will be an easier defense.”
Twenty-Six gasped. He turned slowly and started running up the road in the opposite direction.
“Second? Take the Paladins. Up on my death, do not stand aside for the King’s whelp. Take your earned place as First.”
“B-but, First! You cannot do this!”
“Second. I am 62. I have spent forty years in the Paladins and my armor grows heavier by the day. I know how I can save this land and her people. I can ask it of no other.”
Second’s mind raged, the logic he heard assaulted the fortress of his emotions, finally finding a crack to wedge through. He grunted and slowly turned and went back to the assembled men and marched them towards the capitol.
***
A throng of barbarians marched up the hill towards me. They were obviously expecting a trap, but their honor could not be ignored. Behind the leaders, Seventeen was marched, his hands bound.
“Seventeen. Free yourself and go to the capitol.” Seventeen immediately dropped his arms from the binding, then grabbed his sword, shield, and helmet from the shocked guardsman and walked toward the road. Several guards quickly moved to subdue him and he ran them through as he kept moving towards the road.
“Let him be. I am the one you’re here for.”
The barbarian entourage turned and looked him over. His armor was laid out on the fence and he carried a sword.
“Gut him.” Came the order from the leader.
***
Of thirty men, 29 were still alive. They marched towards the small village with unnatural haste. They were ordered to recover the corpse of First and take it back to the King. Despite every person to a man who had heard the order believing it was a fools errand, the ruse had worked.
A vicious battle has ensued, but the barbarians were decimated, their remaining forces in disarray. The army was rounding them up and the Paladins were to honor their leader one last time.
The Paladins marched up the hill to an astonishing sight. Barbarian corpses were everywhere. He saw a glint on the opposite side of the hill - it was firsts armor arrayed on the fencing.
As they approached the center of the hill, a wind picked up and the figure of a man coalesced out of light. “First,” chuckles the light in the voice of who was First, “ I have ascended. Tell the King that I apologize for breaking my pact.” The form shattered and the light vanished.
Second fell to his knees in sorrow. His friend, his mentor, was gone.
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There was nowhere to run, not for the children, the women, even the men on horseback. Anyone caught on the open plains would be cut down like grass. He knew the choke points, how they would be set up, and how they would be manned. Thick with men in leather armor, able to move quick to pursue and react fast to any roadside resistance. The armor would be freshly tanned for the duty. Invading commanders always wanted the public 'face' of the army to look good. It implied the army was better funded than it was and not a bunch of half-starved farm boys on a force march. He sighed as he lit the pitch he laid around the river point. 35 men maybe? Pity they wouldn't be good fighters, but they'd be educated, perhaps some would be distant relatives of a few nobles. Vincent smiled at the thought. He'd no time to listen to their choked screams, not today. He filled the skies with smoke and death on his way back to Listin.
As he approached the unwalled village a girl of maybe nine with a long stick pressed in the dirt behind her and protruding up like a flagpole without a flag smiled sweetly at him. He was overcome by anger. “Damn it, Cynthia! I can see the spear tip from 30 yards. It doesn't do us any good to have you out here if the horseman stop instead of plow through! Where's the cloak your Mom made you, I told you to wear it?”
​
“It got dirty. I wanted to look nice.”
He bit his lip at the absurdity. “Go get the cloak and man your post again. Remember, you only need to push one horseman into the pit to have the rest panic and break the charge. You run like Hell after. They won't be organized enough to respond. They won't be sending seasoned troops here. Not yet.” The last words he said to himself. He'd killed close to 200 men this morning. If they were competent they'd be sending a skilled regiment by nightfall. He hoped to God they were idiots.
“Archers!” He shouted vaguely into the village square. 14 children with slings appeared from seemly nowhere. “You been practicing, Geralt?”
“Ya. All week at the river like you asked. Came in for supper when we saw the smoke.”
“Good. Spread out like we practiced on the east side of the village. It's you we'll listen for to begin it all. Go on then.“ “Vincent?”
“East is that way.” He brought his hands to his eyes. What he wouldn't give for his old unit right now. “
Spearmen!” A group of 20 men came charging up in a cruel mockery of a marching formation. “That includes you ladies!” Another marching unit shambled into place awkwardly pairing up, husbands and wives, childhood friends and brothers and sisters.
“Listen up. The troops coming over the hill, they will be men and boys far from home. They don't want to kill you, they don't want to burn down your home, nor rape and kill your children. But, if they don't do those things, they will be impaled on a spear by their commander and if their lucky their families back home won't be murdered in the streets. They will try to kill you. But, there is a good chance that they will have found their courage in a bottle. They'll be slow, and they don't want to be here. They'll hesitate, you cannot. You do not have the luxury of mercy today. Strike and run. Stay with your partner and leave blood in your wake. You know this village, you know the land. They will have numbers, but in close quarters in wont mean anything. Stay close, listen to my commands and don't stay in one place. Pair up and disappear!”He waited until they were all dispersed, walked to the edge of the village and called “Pitchers!” Four men and two women in their 60's quietly mad their way to him. It didn't take long, they'd obviously been following him and waiting. “You know your duty. The hardest part will be to watch the fight, and watch those you love die. But, I promise you, I've done everything I could to ensure they'd die with a weapon in their hands and feet on the ground. If the tide changes and we are overpowered, kick the pitch and light it. It will flow down the hill and force them to run or die with us. Look for the flames on the hills. It won't make a difference unless three of the points are lit. All six will make sure they all die with us. Try not to get dead.”
They shuffled off. The guilt he felt was worse than he had for the children. He would rather charge the field alone than be with them. They knew what toll it would take on them. None of them had talked to him beyond agreeing to the task. He turned and looked at the village he grew up in. More than half that were born here ran away to the capital with dreams of being more, only to wind up little more than slaves. He knew the draw, he'd followed it himself. He still wasn't sure if being a soldier was better than having stayed in the village.They'd be looking for him tomorrow. The peasant general, the king's pet, or whatever nonsensical names they had for him, would not be allowed to abandon his post for long. It didn't matter in the long run. He'd laid out all the plans, and defenses for the country. It was completely hopeless. The invading army was enormous. They'd be overrun by a sea of ants before they invaders could even set up camp. Even the men he killed today would make no difference in the advance. The village was already surrounded. The capital would fall by midweek.He knew the only choice left was to decide where he wanted to die. So many here, who had only ever known exploitation and suffering, would be defended to the death by the country's most decorated general. A selfish death on his part perhaps. But today his was not a servant of the country, he was not their puppet or slave. He was free; he was a man, and a man's last thoughts should be of home.
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[WP] In your lifetime, stories of ordinary people being reborn or transported into fantastical worlds of magic and heroes were popular... not that you knew this, being a dog. Then you got hit by a Truck, and now you're a Dragon that just wishes belly rubs were as easy to get as they used to be.
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My person... My people... Most of them... They sat on the floor with me. One held me in her arms, sobbing. Why was she sad? I slowly wagged my white-tipped tail, whining softly. She kept speaking to me, I only understood a few words. They were "good boy", "Dunkin", "best boy", "sorry", and "old boy". I understood the last one best of all. I knew that I was indeed a good boy, the constant love my humans showed me let me know. Even if we couldn't speak to each other, we communicated with our feelings. I loved the female holding my frail, thin body. I loved her as if she was my pup. Oh... How I loved her. I met her deep brown eyes, ringed with a pale silvery-blue. I closed my eyes, even if it was hard to see, now that I was old, I kept the vision of her eyes in my memory. Tears... I could smell the saltiness, and struggled to sit up. She pulled me close to her trembling body. I licked the tears off her face. Why was she sad? I had protected this human pup since she had come home. 13 years of love. 6 years since I lost my best friend. 7 years since her sibling came home. 5 years since we got my adopted daughter. 2 years since we got the littermates. A few months since we got the puppy. 15 years since I had joined my pack. I softly whined again, when I felt a prick at the back of my neck. After a few moments, I began to feel sleepy. I could feel her holding me right as I drifted off, listening to her cries.
After a few moments, I rose to my paws, looking down at my girl. I no longer felt any pain, and I could see and hear. My red and white pelt was sleek, and my tawny eyes were bright. I closed my eyes to blink, and was suddenly enveloped in color.
I opened my eyes, surrounded by darkness, until I pushed, and broke free. Another egg was next to me, rocking back and forth. I closed my eyes again, trilling softly, only to open my eyes again. Trilling? I'm a dog! We can't trill! I looked at my paws, but they weren't paws! They were covered in scales, and had silver claws.
I stumbled back, squeaking, then knocked over the other egg. A brown... lizard fell out. He squeaked a bit, then unfurled his wings. The dragon was shorter than I, but broader. He opened his bright orange eyes, and they brightened soon as we made eye contact. Those eyes... They were familiar... After a moment, I exhaled quickly, sending sparks flying out of my nose. I recoiled,then clumsily bounded over to him, squeaking happily. He reacted with as much joy as I did, my brother! My brother! We ran around each other in circles, then suddenly he was lifted off the ground. Right after, I was too! I started screeching, flapping my wings, which were much too big for my body. The person carrying me swore- and hit me! He hit me! I whimpered and started shaking, when I was carried away from my brother. I ended up being tossed into a pen full of other dragons. But they were all females! I had forgotten something... I checked. I was a girl! I was a girl!
After what felt like forever, I had grown considerably. I was almost the height of 4 of the biggest men on top of each other, and well-muscled. I was powerful, and as many of the people said, I was beautiful. After getting led into a pen, I roamed around. Another dragon entered soon after. It had felt like forever since I last saw this male! An excited chirping came from him, and I mimicked the sound. I wagged my tail, eyes wide in happiness and excitement. His tongue lolled out of his mouth. For a few days, we played and relaxed and ate. Soon enough, we got bored.
We had come up with an idea. The scales on his back were much tougher than my soft skin. I was going to... Melt the metal blocking out the sky, just enough for him to crash through, and bam! We'd be free!
On the day we were going to pull out stunt, it all went as planned. At least until he barreled through the ceiling, and I followed, to end up in a beautiful kitchen. There were people gathered around a table, who paused to stare at us, then start running and screaming. My people used to run! And I'd chase them! It used to be my favorite game! I jumped around, chasing a fat man. My brother did the same. Soon enough, our fun stopped when men came in, and started yelling at us.
I put my guilty face on, and so did the male. I looked up from the ground, and thumped my tail a few times, then looked back down. I whined softly, as if I was saying sorry.
Suddenly, I felt something on my foot. I looked down, and it was a small girl. I smiled at her, and licked her face. A woman screamed, and the men surged foward. I snarled at them, holding the girl close. I watched them for a bit, and felt something touch my side. Of course, being the good boy- er... Girl... I am, I rolled over. The little girl giggled, and rubbed my chin. I panted happily, and started kicking one of my legs. The woman had started scratching my belly. It was utter bliss.
The fat man was scratching my brother's belly as well, chuckling.
Oh! We were such good boys! Since that day, we've been pampered! Food right off the table, belly rubs, everything.
Boy is it good to be such a cute dog.
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[poem]
In another life it was so easy.
All the treats and belly rubs.
Now everyone just runs from me.
All I want is a belly rub.
Fire extends from my lips,
And I can fly high above the streets.
Yet it’s a curse more than a gift,
If I could go back, I surely would.
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[WP] In your lifetime, stories of ordinary people being reborn or transported into fantastical worlds of magic and heroes were popular... not that you knew this, being a dog. Then you got hit by a Truck, and now you're a Dragon that just wishes belly rubs were as easy to get as they used to be.
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[poem]
I was a dog
Back in the day
Down in the bog
**I loved to play!**
My master sweet
Dear Daisy Lue
Made me complete
**And scratched me too!**
But one dark night
I wandered far
Without a light
**I drowned in tar...**
Now I'm a dragon
It's odd, for sure
But when I'm happy
**I flap, I roar!**
My one regret
Or two, or three
There's nobody around
**To love on me!**
But then one day
She came, she knew
My master sweet
**Dear Daisy Lue!**
*
* I sure don't have any idea on how to format anything mobile.
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[poem]
In another life it was so easy.
All the treats and belly rubs.
Now everyone just runs from me.
All I want is a belly rub.
Fire extends from my lips,
And I can fly high above the streets.
Yet it’s a curse more than a gift,
If I could go back, I surely would.
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[WP] In your lifetime, stories of ordinary people being reborn or transported into fantastical worlds of magic and heroes were popular... not that you knew this, being a dog. Then you got hit by a Truck, and now you're a Dragon that just wishes belly rubs were as easy to get as they used to be.
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Part 1
​
There was a loud horn before it hurt. There was a loud horn, a bright light, and then a whole new world.
It was a strange world filled with knights and castles, enchanted forests where elves made kingdoms in the trees and dark swamps where witches brewed their potions with hex-stained smoke. Wizards had thrown spells through the air like softballs and paper airplanes. Giants had strolled through the hills dressed in their finest furs. But now the world was a tall tower of dark stone that drank away the light and a sulfurous stench that chocked the air below. It was situated in the center of a black fortress built from jagged angles and saw-toothed spires that ripped apart the mountainside and leered over the desolate countryside thru which none but the bravest, or most foolhardy, dared ride.
The interior of the tower was colder even than its skin of spiny rock. The floor was stone. Nothing hung on the walls. The only piece of furniture was a rickety cot, which Leny the princess sat on and sobbed.
Everything seemed hopeless to her. This strange land, these strange people, she hadn’t known any of it, but now she was in the center of it. A centuries old battle had swept her up into this prison tower. Nothing looked good, and it didn’t help that the only portal to the outside, to some respite from her brooding, was a window opposite her cot that offered nothing but dark skies ridden with storm clouds. Still, anything was better than the chilly room, and some fresh air might be nice anyway.
Leny leaned towards the window and waited. She stared out at the rolling clouds, stretching her neck. She stood up and tip-toed forward, slowly, one slippered foot at a time across the rough stone. Just as she reached the window edge, just before she could glance out and past the barrier of dark clouds, Leny heard the dreadful sound of beating wings.
She leapt back just as the dragon shoved its muzzle through the window, nearly catching her on its teeth. Leny screamed as she fell. The dragon trashed its snout around the room. Its tongue leaped from its toothy muzzle, slapping the walls of the room with a splat. It showered everything in spit and drool.
“Eww!” Leny screamed again as the big, pink tongue splat across her face, “Stop! No!” She cried.
And the dragon stopped. Leny scrambled backwards, back to the cot on the other side of the room.
“You got me all wet! And, eww,” Leny pulled a strand of drool off her sleeve, thicker than her wrist. It slopped through her fingers and hit the floor with a splat hard enough to ricochet chunks back on her face. She nearly heaved.
The dragon was panting through the window. The hot breath filled the little room with the smell of old meat and rotten eggs. Leny held her nose and groaned. At the sound, the dragon roared and began lapping at the walls of the tower. The stone around the window was cracking, as the dragon dug its snout deeper into the room. It was about to brake when the dragon stopped. Something had caught its attention; something was down below, moving up through the fortress.
Leny watched the dragon disappear. She rushed to the window, just catching a glimpse of something in silver armor running up the stairs.
“Arthur! Arthur! I’m up here!” She waved her arms, flailing her handkerchief like a flag at Arthur the knight in shining armor. He waved back, sword gleaming in his hand.
“Len! Just wait there. I’ll be over in a second,” He shouted as he hopped from a window onto the steeped roof of the fort, intent on bypassing the trapped rooms and labyrinthine pathways.
“Arthur, watch out for the dragon!”
“It’s okay! I got a magic swor—”
The dragon landed on the roof with such force that the sword, gleaming in the light with a radiance brighter than the sun, leapt from Arthur’s grip. It skidded along the roof like a stone skipped over a pond before diving into the depthless abyss below like a falling star plummeting to earth.
“Oh, Arthur,” Leny sighed.
Arthur didn’t wait for her next suggestion. He ran! With the dragon slamming down upon on the shingled roof behind him, Arthur ran. He heard the beams begin to split and crack under the dragon’s weight. He heard the mighty beast roar. Its hot breath burned his neck. It was on him. A heavy shadow overtook him even at full sprint. Leny watched in horror. She shut her eyes as Arthur ran with all his might.
The dragon roared. Then the fortress roof gave in. The burley timbers could take it no more, and the dragon whined. It made Leny’s heart jump. The dragon disappeared through the fortress as the roof collapsed, stone and timber falling upon the beast like a hungry maw, swallowing it whole.
Arthur clambered into the window of Leny’s room and fell onto the floor. Immediately, she fell on him, wrapping her arms around his neck and covering him in kisses. Even as he was struggling to catch his breath, Arthur kissed back and squeezed her tight.
“What a rescue, huh, babe?” Arthur said.
“Well, you’re no ogre, and we need a new magic sword, but I’m glad you came,”
“Ah ha,” a gleam sparkled in Arthur’s eye, “I was prepared for something like this. I brought this,” he produced a hollow horn, curved and polished. A smile crossed his face that only said ‘watch this.’
Arthur leaned out the window. He put the horn to his lips and blew. A magnificent sound trumpeted from the instrument, bellowing out over the mountains and down into the valleys. A piercing shriek answered the noble call. Out of the storm clouds, covered in a rainy sheen, flew a mighty eagle. A grin crossed Leny’s face, and Arthur laughed and cheered, overjoyed. The eagle’s heavy wings beat apart the air as it soared towards their tower, faster than a lightning bolt. It shrieked again, one last time.
“The eagles are coming, Len. The eagles are coming.”
|
[poem]
In another life it was so easy.
All the treats and belly rubs.
Now everyone just runs from me.
All I want is a belly rub.
Fire extends from my lips,
And I can fly high above the streets.
Yet it’s a curse more than a gift,
If I could go back, I surely would.
|
|
[WP] In your lifetime, stories of ordinary people being reborn or transported into fantastical worlds of magic and heroes were popular... not that you knew this, being a dog. Then you got hit by a Truck, and now you're a Dragon that just wishes belly rubs were as easy to get as they used to be.
|
Part 1
​
There was a loud horn before it hurt. There was a loud horn, a bright light, and then a whole new world.
It was a strange world filled with knights and castles, enchanted forests where elves made kingdoms in the trees and dark swamps where witches brewed their potions with hex-stained smoke. Wizards had thrown spells through the air like softballs and paper airplanes. Giants had strolled through the hills dressed in their finest furs. But now the world was a tall tower of dark stone that drank away the light and a sulfurous stench that chocked the air below. It was situated in the center of a black fortress built from jagged angles and saw-toothed spires that ripped apart the mountainside and leered over the desolate countryside thru which none but the bravest, or most foolhardy, dared ride.
The interior of the tower was colder even than its skin of spiny rock. The floor was stone. Nothing hung on the walls. The only piece of furniture was a rickety cot, which Leny the princess sat on and sobbed.
Everything seemed hopeless to her. This strange land, these strange people, she hadn’t known any of it, but now she was in the center of it. A centuries old battle had swept her up into this prison tower. Nothing looked good, and it didn’t help that the only portal to the outside, to some respite from her brooding, was a window opposite her cot that offered nothing but dark skies ridden with storm clouds. Still, anything was better than the chilly room, and some fresh air might be nice anyway.
Leny leaned towards the window and waited. She stared out at the rolling clouds, stretching her neck. She stood up and tip-toed forward, slowly, one slippered foot at a time across the rough stone. Just as she reached the window edge, just before she could glance out and past the barrier of dark clouds, Leny heard the dreadful sound of beating wings.
She leapt back just as the dragon shoved its muzzle through the window, nearly catching her on its teeth. Leny screamed as she fell. The dragon trashed its snout around the room. Its tongue leaped from its toothy muzzle, slapping the walls of the room with a splat. It showered everything in spit and drool.
“Eww!” Leny screamed again as the big, pink tongue splat across her face, “Stop! No!” She cried.
And the dragon stopped. Leny scrambled backwards, back to the cot on the other side of the room.
“You got me all wet! And, eww,” Leny pulled a strand of drool off her sleeve, thicker than her wrist. It slopped through her fingers and hit the floor with a splat hard enough to ricochet chunks back on her face. She nearly heaved.
The dragon was panting through the window. The hot breath filled the little room with the smell of old meat and rotten eggs. Leny held her nose and groaned. At the sound, the dragon roared and began lapping at the walls of the tower. The stone around the window was cracking, as the dragon dug its snout deeper into the room. It was about to brake when the dragon stopped. Something had caught its attention; something was down below, moving up through the fortress.
Leny watched the dragon disappear. She rushed to the window, just catching a glimpse of something in silver armor running up the stairs.
“Arthur! Arthur! I’m up here!” She waved her arms, flailing her handkerchief like a flag at Arthur the knight in shining armor. He waved back, sword gleaming in his hand.
“Len! Just wait there. I’ll be over in a second,” He shouted as he hopped from a window onto the steeped roof of the fort, intent on bypassing the trapped rooms and labyrinthine pathways.
“Arthur, watch out for the dragon!”
“It’s okay! I got a magic swor—”
The dragon landed on the roof with such force that the sword, gleaming in the light with a radiance brighter than the sun, leapt from Arthur’s grip. It skidded along the roof like a stone skipped over a pond before diving into the depthless abyss below like a falling star plummeting to earth.
“Oh, Arthur,” Leny sighed.
Arthur didn’t wait for her next suggestion. He ran! With the dragon slamming down upon on the shingled roof behind him, Arthur ran. He heard the beams begin to split and crack under the dragon’s weight. He heard the mighty beast roar. Its hot breath burned his neck. It was on him. A heavy shadow overtook him even at full sprint. Leny watched in horror. She shut her eyes as Arthur ran with all his might.
The dragon roared. Then the fortress roof gave in. The burley timbers could take it no more, and the dragon whined. It made Leny’s heart jump. The dragon disappeared through the fortress as the roof collapsed, stone and timber falling upon the beast like a hungry maw, swallowing it whole.
Arthur clambered into the window of Leny’s room and fell onto the floor. Immediately, she fell on him, wrapping her arms around his neck and covering him in kisses. Even as he was struggling to catch his breath, Arthur kissed back and squeezed her tight.
“What a rescue, huh, babe?” Arthur said.
“Well, you’re no ogre, and we need a new magic sword, but I’m glad you came,”
“Ah ha,” a gleam sparkled in Arthur’s eye, “I was prepared for something like this. I brought this,” he produced a hollow horn, curved and polished. A smile crossed his face that only said ‘watch this.’
Arthur leaned out the window. He put the horn to his lips and blew. A magnificent sound trumpeted from the instrument, bellowing out over the mountains and down into the valleys. A piercing shriek answered the noble call. Out of the storm clouds, covered in a rainy sheen, flew a mighty eagle. A grin crossed Leny’s face, and Arthur laughed and cheered, overjoyed. The eagle’s heavy wings beat apart the air as it soared towards their tower, faster than a lightning bolt. It shrieked again, one last time.
“The eagles are coming, Len. The eagles are coming.”
|
"Where is benny when I need him he always played fetch with me". He said as his pearly scales changed in the color in the moon light. It created the illusion of a burning flame. His hunches dragged as he was a lot smaller before and not quite used to his new found size. He did like that he could just peer over the tree line by just lifting his head.
He heard a crackle. People perhaps I love people and I finally have enough belly for everyone to scratch! He thought. He had scared some people off before by using his new found wings so he decided to take a different approach, he dropped his belly to the ground just barely grazing the grass. He crept closer to the noise. He knew every step was crucial for the proper interduction. He quitetly crept over a lush banking that florished with weeds but very few trees. He looked down over a gordge to see where the noise was coming from. It was the embers caressing the logs of a well built fire.
Four people stood around the fire laughing and full of excitement,that alone sparked his inner sense of joy. But the smells were so overpowering. "Food!" He whispered. The smell sent him into a very quick decent over the ledge. His wings caught wind flicking them up just enough to make them aware of his presence. Immedately three of them had fled off into the thicket. One stayed holding a brisket on a spear in hand. He could tell she was fearful of him. He stopped abruptly and sat. Maybe if she saw how obedient he was she would change her mind. She covered her face with her right forearm. With the left arm held the brisket out as far away from her as she could .
I was a good boy I deserve this and he snatched it with one claw without hesitation. Maybe she will give me the scratches! He flopped onto his side using his very long tale to help him roll on to his back. His eyes closed, tongue hanging out in the breeze. I'm addorable he thought she will have to pet me. He waited but nothing. After a minute or two he rolled back over and onto his belly. Where'd she go? I want scratches... He felt sad. He looked down to find a small stream of smoke and one very over crushed woman. He flopped his head onto the dirt path beneath him dust. Debris wafted into the air, Why can't I have love.. were his last thoughts before curling up around the deceased pancaked woman and drifting into a slumber.
|
|
[WP] In your lifetime, stories of ordinary people being reborn or transported into fantastical worlds of magic and heroes were popular... not that you knew this, being a dog. Then you got hit by a Truck, and now you're a Dragon that just wishes belly rubs were as easy to get as they used to be.
|
It really wasn't that bad being a Flying Fire Dog once Spot had gotten used to the flappy bits on his back and the fire that came out his mouth when he belched. The biggest problem he had was that none of the other dragons thought he was serious when he said his name was Spot. Draca and Flame constantly asked him to tell hem what Spot's *real* name was and it was getting sort of confusing.
Almost as bad as when Boy used to ask Spot "who's a good boy?" repeatedly. It's like he didn't believe Spot when he said "ME! I'M A GOOD BOY!"
And the worst part is, Draca and Flame never gave him belly rubs like Boy used to. Even when Spot flopped over onto his back and wiggled right in front of them barking "Spot! Spot! Spot!"
On the other hand, now he could eat anything he wanted, no tricks necessary. He learned that after he tried to shake Flame's wing at the first village ruckus they went to. Apparently, all the dragons just kind of went for the food without regard for how long he could sit and stay.
Of course, the food looked a lot like mini-Boys. He kind of wished Boy was here so Spot could show Boy and get a treat for the new discovery.
|
"Where is benny when I need him he always played fetch with me". He said as his pearly scales changed in the color in the moon light. It created the illusion of a burning flame. His hunches dragged as he was a lot smaller before and not quite used to his new found size. He did like that he could just peer over the tree line by just lifting his head.
He heard a crackle. People perhaps I love people and I finally have enough belly for everyone to scratch! He thought. He had scared some people off before by using his new found wings so he decided to take a different approach, he dropped his belly to the ground just barely grazing the grass. He crept closer to the noise. He knew every step was crucial for the proper interduction. He quitetly crept over a lush banking that florished with weeds but very few trees. He looked down over a gordge to see where the noise was coming from. It was the embers caressing the logs of a well built fire.
Four people stood around the fire laughing and full of excitement,that alone sparked his inner sense of joy. But the smells were so overpowering. "Food!" He whispered. The smell sent him into a very quick decent over the ledge. His wings caught wind flicking them up just enough to make them aware of his presence. Immedately three of them had fled off into the thicket. One stayed holding a brisket on a spear in hand. He could tell she was fearful of him. He stopped abruptly and sat. Maybe if she saw how obedient he was she would change her mind. She covered her face with her right forearm. With the left arm held the brisket out as far away from her as she could .
I was a good boy I deserve this and he snatched it with one claw without hesitation. Maybe she will give me the scratches! He flopped onto his side using his very long tale to help him roll on to his back. His eyes closed, tongue hanging out in the breeze. I'm addorable he thought she will have to pet me. He waited but nothing. After a minute or two he rolled back over and onto his belly. Where'd she go? I want scratches... He felt sad. He looked down to find a small stream of smoke and one very over crushed woman. He flopped his head onto the dirt path beneath him dust. Debris wafted into the air, Why can't I have love.. were his last thoughts before curling up around the deceased pancaked woman and drifting into a slumber.
|
|
[WP] In your lifetime, stories of ordinary people being reborn or transported into fantastical worlds of magic and heroes were popular... not that you knew this, being a dog. Then you got hit by a Truck, and now you're a Dragon that just wishes belly rubs were as easy to get as they used to be.
|
I was everybody's dog back home. From the Parkers farm to Old mans Harry's back porch was my place, my station. But out of everywhere I could be in town was Lady Maria's Gas Station. Like the tick of food steamer, people were always coming and going and man did they give the best treats.
​
"He's not a stray! Don't feed the pinche chamaco!" she would yell. She knew she was the worst of em all! Hell, she picked me out at the police station years ago and brought me here. So warm. So good everyday was. Too bad I was still a station dog.
​
The last day I had was a doozy. The store was the bustling with the usual flair. The Parker kids had even come down to see me! They always rushed to me and gave the best rubs.
​
"Maria, you know, Chamo there is on in his years." said Matt in a hushed tone.
​
"And he has the energy to get both our dinners!" Maria sharply replied, "I'm not getting another guard dog until he's ready to stay home." Lady Maria was my home and I wasn't gonna leave her or these pets!
​
"Hey kids!" Matt called, "go grab some snacks and stop bothering that old man!" They protested but went to the snack aisle. I wanted to pick one too! I think they kept talking but the kids were so loud. They didn't even notice the New man. He tried to sneak up on me, but I knew he was there. He had been in the store since Maria set out the bread. He was fast too, making it to the front of the store in no time. In a second he had Matt with a mad grip and a pistol at his head and started shouting. I was right behind him and got his leg with everything the station taught me. A bang rang through the store and he went running. Oh Hell no. You don't run from an old police mutt like that pal. He got to his car, damn my old legs. I heard the rumble of the engine starting. I'm not letting another one of these criminals go free. I knew what I had to do. The plate in front of car was gonna be all they need.
​
Another bang clattered through my mountain station. So close to the rings of her store. The poor scaled people cowered from the bang and move quickly to protect their eggs from the rumble. Their fear and cries were not going to be unanswered for much longer. I raised myself up much to their displeasure. I really took this speed for granted went I was a pup.
​
"I'm going to right back chiquitos." I said to them. At least in this new station they could understand me.
​
"We can't stop you Hengot, but please this is not the time." Crawler pleaded. The rest of his littermates were in tears. I brought down my giant copper head to look at them. I wanted one last look before I started my shift again. "At least let us come with you." Everyone wants to be a police dog until they have to make hard choices, huh?
​
"No. You stay here. Protect the eggs. That's more than enough for you to ask." I order. I gently tap them as I go, hearing one fall over. So much like the Parker kids, even down to the cries. This time it won't end with me under a truck without Maria. Chamaco is a good station dog. He comes when called. He defends his partner and his station with his last breath. This time I'm coming back to my Station without a single criminal left in sight.
|
"Where is benny when I need him he always played fetch with me". He said as his pearly scales changed in the color in the moon light. It created the illusion of a burning flame. His hunches dragged as he was a lot smaller before and not quite used to his new found size. He did like that he could just peer over the tree line by just lifting his head.
He heard a crackle. People perhaps I love people and I finally have enough belly for everyone to scratch! He thought. He had scared some people off before by using his new found wings so he decided to take a different approach, he dropped his belly to the ground just barely grazing the grass. He crept closer to the noise. He knew every step was crucial for the proper interduction. He quitetly crept over a lush banking that florished with weeds but very few trees. He looked down over a gordge to see where the noise was coming from. It was the embers caressing the logs of a well built fire.
Four people stood around the fire laughing and full of excitement,that alone sparked his inner sense of joy. But the smells were so overpowering. "Food!" He whispered. The smell sent him into a very quick decent over the ledge. His wings caught wind flicking them up just enough to make them aware of his presence. Immedately three of them had fled off into the thicket. One stayed holding a brisket on a spear in hand. He could tell she was fearful of him. He stopped abruptly and sat. Maybe if she saw how obedient he was she would change her mind. She covered her face with her right forearm. With the left arm held the brisket out as far away from her as she could .
I was a good boy I deserve this and he snatched it with one claw without hesitation. Maybe she will give me the scratches! He flopped onto his side using his very long tale to help him roll on to his back. His eyes closed, tongue hanging out in the breeze. I'm addorable he thought she will have to pet me. He waited but nothing. After a minute or two he rolled back over and onto his belly. Where'd she go? I want scratches... He felt sad. He looked down to find a small stream of smoke and one very over crushed woman. He flopped his head onto the dirt path beneath him dust. Debris wafted into the air, Why can't I have love.. were his last thoughts before curling up around the deceased pancaked woman and drifting into a slumber.
|
|
[WP] In your lifetime, stories of ordinary people being reborn or transported into fantastical worlds of magic and heroes were popular... not that you knew this, being a dog. Then you got hit by a Truck, and now you're a Dragon that just wishes belly rubs were as easy to get as they used to be.
|
The princess was pretty, true, but that’s not why I kidnapped her. I’d seen how she was with the kingdom hounds, how veraciously she’d sought them out. I just wanted to be treated the same.
I can hear her sobbing on the other side of my cave and it’s eating at me. She looks over and I roll over on my back, hoping she takes the hint. She looks over at me, blinking slowly. Then I see the realization roll across her delicate features.
She gets up and starts to walk, or limp across the cave towards me. I must’ve really hurt her. That, at least, I feel terrible about. The closer she gets to me the braver her face comes. I can barely hold in my excitement. She stands next to me.
Suddenly there’s a dagger point being pressed against the soft skin of my belly, right where my heart is located. I whimper in pain, but she levels quite the menacing look at me.
“What do you want with me?”
The word that my old person, from my dog days, used to use comes to my mind instantly. “Scritches?”
She looks taken aback. “You want me to pet you?”
|
"Where is benny when I need him he always played fetch with me". He said as his pearly scales changed in the color in the moon light. It created the illusion of a burning flame. His hunches dragged as he was a lot smaller before and not quite used to his new found size. He did like that he could just peer over the tree line by just lifting his head.
He heard a crackle. People perhaps I love people and I finally have enough belly for everyone to scratch! He thought. He had scared some people off before by using his new found wings so he decided to take a different approach, he dropped his belly to the ground just barely grazing the grass. He crept closer to the noise. He knew every step was crucial for the proper interduction. He quitetly crept over a lush banking that florished with weeds but very few trees. He looked down over a gordge to see where the noise was coming from. It was the embers caressing the logs of a well built fire.
Four people stood around the fire laughing and full of excitement,that alone sparked his inner sense of joy. But the smells were so overpowering. "Food!" He whispered. The smell sent him into a very quick decent over the ledge. His wings caught wind flicking them up just enough to make them aware of his presence. Immedately three of them had fled off into the thicket. One stayed holding a brisket on a spear in hand. He could tell she was fearful of him. He stopped abruptly and sat. Maybe if she saw how obedient he was she would change her mind. She covered her face with her right forearm. With the left arm held the brisket out as far away from her as she could .
I was a good boy I deserve this and he snatched it with one claw without hesitation. Maybe she will give me the scratches! He flopped onto his side using his very long tale to help him roll on to his back. His eyes closed, tongue hanging out in the breeze. I'm addorable he thought she will have to pet me. He waited but nothing. After a minute or two he rolled back over and onto his belly. Where'd she go? I want scratches... He felt sad. He looked down to find a small stream of smoke and one very over crushed woman. He flopped his head onto the dirt path beneath him dust. Debris wafted into the air, Why can't I have love.. were his last thoughts before curling up around the deceased pancaked woman and drifting into a slumber.
|
|
[WP] In your lifetime, stories of ordinary people being reborn or transported into fantastical worlds of magic and heroes were popular... not that you knew this, being a dog. Then you got hit by a Truck, and now you're a Dragon that just wishes belly rubs were as easy to get as they used to be.
|
The princess was pretty, true, but that’s not why I kidnapped her. I’d seen how she was with the kingdom hounds, how veraciously she’d sought them out. I just wanted to be treated the same.
I can hear her sobbing on the other side of my cave and it’s eating at me. She looks over and I roll over on my back, hoping she takes the hint. She looks over at me, blinking slowly. Then I see the realization roll across her delicate features.
She gets up and starts to walk, or limp across the cave towards me. I must’ve really hurt her. That, at least, I feel terrible about. The closer she gets to me the braver her face comes. I can barely hold in my excitement. She stands next to me.
Suddenly there’s a dagger point being pressed against the soft skin of my belly, right where my heart is located. I whimper in pain, but she levels quite the menacing look at me.
“What do you want with me?”
The word that my old person, from my dog days, used to use comes to my mind instantly. “Scritches?”
She looks taken aback. “You want me to pet you?”
|
It really wasn't that bad being a Flying Fire Dog once Spot had gotten used to the flappy bits on his back and the fire that came out his mouth when he belched. The biggest problem he had was that none of the other dragons thought he was serious when he said his name was Spot. Draca and Flame constantly asked him to tell hem what Spot's *real* name was and it was getting sort of confusing.
Almost as bad as when Boy used to ask Spot "who's a good boy?" repeatedly. It's like he didn't believe Spot when he said "ME! I'M A GOOD BOY!"
And the worst part is, Draca and Flame never gave him belly rubs like Boy used to. Even when Spot flopped over onto his back and wiggled right in front of them barking "Spot! Spot! Spot!"
On the other hand, now he could eat anything he wanted, no tricks necessary. He learned that after he tried to shake Flame's wing at the first village ruckus they went to. Apparently, all the dragons just kind of went for the food without regard for how long he could sit and stay.
Of course, the food looked a lot like mini-Boys. He kind of wished Boy was here so Spot could show Boy and get a treat for the new discovery.
|
|
[WP] In your lifetime, stories of ordinary people being reborn or transported into fantastical worlds of magic and heroes were popular... not that you knew this, being a dog. Then you got hit by a Truck, and now you're a Dragon that just wishes belly rubs were as easy to get as they used to be.
|
The princess was pretty, true, but that’s not why I kidnapped her. I’d seen how she was with the kingdom hounds, how veraciously she’d sought them out. I just wanted to be treated the same.
I can hear her sobbing on the other side of my cave and it’s eating at me. She looks over and I roll over on my back, hoping she takes the hint. She looks over at me, blinking slowly. Then I see the realization roll across her delicate features.
She gets up and starts to walk, or limp across the cave towards me. I must’ve really hurt her. That, at least, I feel terrible about. The closer she gets to me the braver her face comes. I can barely hold in my excitement. She stands next to me.
Suddenly there’s a dagger point being pressed against the soft skin of my belly, right where my heart is located. I whimper in pain, but she levels quite the menacing look at me.
“What do you want with me?”
The word that my old person, from my dog days, used to use comes to my mind instantly. “Scritches?”
She looks taken aback. “You want me to pet you?”
|
I was everybody's dog back home. From the Parkers farm to Old mans Harry's back porch was my place, my station. But out of everywhere I could be in town was Lady Maria's Gas Station. Like the tick of food steamer, people were always coming and going and man did they give the best treats.
​
"He's not a stray! Don't feed the pinche chamaco!" she would yell. She knew she was the worst of em all! Hell, she picked me out at the police station years ago and brought me here. So warm. So good everyday was. Too bad I was still a station dog.
​
The last day I had was a doozy. The store was the bustling with the usual flair. The Parker kids had even come down to see me! They always rushed to me and gave the best rubs.
​
"Maria, you know, Chamo there is on in his years." said Matt in a hushed tone.
​
"And he has the energy to get both our dinners!" Maria sharply replied, "I'm not getting another guard dog until he's ready to stay home." Lady Maria was my home and I wasn't gonna leave her or these pets!
​
"Hey kids!" Matt called, "go grab some snacks and stop bothering that old man!" They protested but went to the snack aisle. I wanted to pick one too! I think they kept talking but the kids were so loud. They didn't even notice the New man. He tried to sneak up on me, but I knew he was there. He had been in the store since Maria set out the bread. He was fast too, making it to the front of the store in no time. In a second he had Matt with a mad grip and a pistol at his head and started shouting. I was right behind him and got his leg with everything the station taught me. A bang rang through the store and he went running. Oh Hell no. You don't run from an old police mutt like that pal. He got to his car, damn my old legs. I heard the rumble of the engine starting. I'm not letting another one of these criminals go free. I knew what I had to do. The plate in front of car was gonna be all they need.
​
Another bang clattered through my mountain station. So close to the rings of her store. The poor scaled people cowered from the bang and move quickly to protect their eggs from the rumble. Their fear and cries were not going to be unanswered for much longer. I raised myself up much to their displeasure. I really took this speed for granted went I was a pup.
​
"I'm going to right back chiquitos." I said to them. At least in this new station they could understand me.
​
"We can't stop you Hengot, but please this is not the time." Crawler pleaded. The rest of his littermates were in tears. I brought down my giant copper head to look at them. I wanted one last look before I started my shift again. "At least let us come with you." Everyone wants to be a police dog until they have to make hard choices, huh?
​
"No. You stay here. Protect the eggs. That's more than enough for you to ask." I order. I gently tap them as I go, hearing one fall over. So much like the Parker kids, even down to the cries. This time it won't end with me under a truck without Maria. Chamaco is a good station dog. He comes when called. He defends his partner and his station with his last breath. This time I'm coming back to my Station without a single criminal left in sight.
|
|
[WP] In your lifetime, stories of ordinary people being reborn or transported into fantastical worlds of magic and heroes were popular... not that you knew this, being a dog. Then you got hit by a Truck, and now you're a Dragon that just wishes belly rubs were as easy to get as they used to be.
|
A new smell in my cave wakes me from my slumber. I raise my head up, shuffling on the coins I’ve made my bed.
The bed a beast like myself is supposed to have, I remind myself. I am no longer what I used to be, the small, frail little creature that was dependent on others.
*No*, not anymore. I am a dragon now. I am strong. I can feel power flowing through my rising legs as a previously unbearable heat scratches my throat.
I feel my scales, the sharp, nigh-impenetrable skin that protects my valuable insides.
The warm wind through my cave brushes my bare belly as I force myself up. Something flashes in my mind.
A feeling, a thought—a want from my old life. The old, dumbed intelligence I used to know trickles back into my mind and I find myself panting as the wish solidifies.
Suddenly, inexplicably, I want my belly rubbed.
A roar starts growing in my throat and I shake my head, smoke spewing from my snout. My roar, then, is matched by a rumble in my stomach as my want for care is swallowed up by a much more present need.
I am hungry.
Stepping forward once more onto my hoard’s smooth stone floor, I duck low and focus again.
The sound from before—it’s closer now. I can hear it ever-present when not distracted by my thoughts. I can almost *feel* the presence, and I know what they’re here for.
“Halt your progression, dragon!” the small man shouts, his armor gleaming in light from the mouth of my cave.
I almost laugh, but I know to hold my tongue. I know *now* at least. As senses trickle information to my brain, I can only be thankful for my newfound intelligence.
Instead, I respond with one large puff of smoke.
The knight waves his hands and steps forward, drawing his puny blade.
“No more will you terrorize these lands! I have come to slay you, beast!”
Shaking my head idly, I narrow my eyes. The movement solidifies only a moment later and my claws come down.
Only a small part of my cave falls and blocks his exit without a moment to spare.
Fear strikes on his face and I can’t help but lick my lips. However, as my tongue comes out, it laps and I find myself panting.
Overcome by the urge again, I scurry toward the fearful knight.
He raises his sword to defend, righteousness glinting in his eyes.
I knock the sword away without a second thought.
“Belly rubs,” I say, thanking my new mind for the ability to speak.
The knight blanches. “What do you want with me, dragon?”
The urge just nags at me again. “Belly rubs,” I say and gesture to my exposed stomach.
His brows furrow and his fingers start shaking. “Kill me quickly!” he pleads. “Spare me this vile torture!”
I shake my head, bored of his theatrics. “Give me belly rubs and I will let you go.”
His eyes widen and he stares at me. I stare right back, my tongue still limp outside my mouth.
Then, slowly, uncertainly, he steps forward and extends his hand.
I drop to the floor and let him continue, relishing in the feeling I have such missed in my new life.
As seconds bleed on, he gets more comfortable and starts accepting my cuteness. I purr in satisfaction—or, as close as a dragon can get.
Then, under his hand, my stomach rumbles again and I remember my new life.
Fire sparks in my throat and I stare at him more fiercely. I am still hungry... and he is still food...
But the belly rubs for the time just feel too good and I let him continue for a while.
That is, until I get tired of the bit and bite his head off, swallowing it down in a single gulp.
---
/r/Palmerranian
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Biscuit draped his wings over his head, and that helped drown out some of the ruckus coming from the far side of the cave. “Just leave me be, please,” he moaned, as sparks flared out from his nostrils. “If it’s dinner, I’m not hungry, alright? And if you’ve come to try and change my mind, well, I’m… I’m tired. Let’s discuss this in the morning, I promise. Just let me-”
But the pounding intensified, and soon the walls of the cave were shaking. From the corner of Biscuit’s eye, he saw cracks spread along the surface of the boulder he had dropped at the cave entrance. It was the largest he could find, and he had been so sure that it would have bought him some much needed solitude, but just like everything else of late, it seemed that nothing would ever go right.
Just as Biscuit nursed the fleeting dregs of hope in his heart, the boulder splintered with a crash. Moonlight streamed in, and Biscuit smelled Razortail’s distinct scent even before her silhouette sharpened in the settling dust. There was a frenzied look in her golden eyes.
“Please, Razortail, tomorrow, alright? I swear, tomorrow I’ll go wherever you want me to go, and I’ll listen to whatever you want to tell me. But for tonight, just for tonight, will you just-”
“You hide there, huddled like a worm, while the humans attack us?”
“-let me… humans? Attack?”
“Do you know that they are out there now, fighting for us?” Razortail screeched, as she stomped towards him. Her claws, fully extended, scored deep marks in the gravel. “One-Eye, Greenscale, Fullwing… even Mangleclaw! The one who always looked up to you! The one who believed in you! The one you crushed when this… this foolishness seized you!”
The blood rose to Biscuit’s cheeks. All of this had nothing to do with him. He knew that. He knew that for sure, right in his heart of hearts. He had asked for none of this. Had he asked for wings? For claws? For scales? Did he ever, even for a fleeting second in his entire life, wish that he would be a dragon? All he wanted was the backyard, the chew-toys, the sprinklers which he wrestled with every morning. None of this had anything to do with him at all.
So why then did he feel guilty?
“For the last time, please, just listen to me!” Biscuit said, whirling on Razortail. “I’m not who you think I am! I’m not… I’m not your leader! I’m not this… this big, bad dragon that you think I am! I can’t even fly in a straight line, you saw that for yourself yesterday! I swear, I’m just a dog, my name is Biscuit, and I-”
Razortail moved faster than he thought possible. One moment she was twenty feet away, the next she had pounced onto him, knocking him over with a swipe of her talons. Biscuit grunted as she planted her claws onto his chest. His tongue flicked across his maw as he tasted blood.
“You’re Scarfang!” she bellowed. “You’re not a dog! You’re not… Biscuit! You’re Scarfang and you’re the greatest dragon who has ever lived! You’re our protector! Our guardian! We need you to stop the humans from killing us!”
“Are you even hearing me? Humans aren’t… humans aren’t what you say they are,” said Biscuit. “They are kind, they pet you when you’re down, they pull you into their homes when the thunder breaks, and they always make sure that you are-”
“Then explain this! Tell me what your eyes see!”
Razortail charged towards the cave walls, throwing her entire weight against the craggy surface. It seemed futile at first, a mid-sized dragon like her against the aged stone, but a spring of fury had been untapped in her. Over and over again she pounded against the walls, her screeches reverberating in the cave. Just as Biscuit thought to pull her back, her barrage broke through the side of the mountain. A passing gale swept through the cracks, carrying with it the scents from the valley below.
Biscuit sat up. He padded over to the makeshift window, and gently pushed Razortail aside. She collapsed at his hind claws, exhausted, spent.
There was definitely metal. The distinct tang of bronze, copper, steel and a dozen different alloys swirled in the air, sharp and biting. There were no such smells in the valley before, not when the other dragons had brought him around, trying to jog his memory, to help restore some sanity to him. Now the valley reeked of it, almost as if someone had unearthed a thousand furnaces, burning as they purified and smelted the very essence of the earth.
There was definitely human too. Not just one, or two, or even a dozen. An old memory stirred in the recesses of Biscuit’s mind – Tanya’s friends had come over for a sleepover, and he had been overwhelmed, trying to distinguish between the scents of Tanya and six other not-quite-Tanyas in her room. But if he thought that was a challenge… now there were *hundreds* of them, more humans than he had ever smelled together at the same time. There was the smell of cooked flesh too, though he couldn’t quite put a talon on exactly what type of meat this was.
And most of all, most distinctly of all… there was blood.
Blood in quantities he did not think possible. Dragon-blood, with hints of bitter and sour, exposed to the night air, hissing as they sprayed from the other dragons who had taken him in, fed him, cared for him. Human-blood too, a crisp, light-bodied aroma, wafting in and out of the valley, rising in cyclones of velvet and red.
By the time Biscuit processed the smells, he knew that Razortail was not lying. The rest of his senses caught up then – the sounds of creatures dying, the sight of untethered warfare – but he had already figured out what he needed to know.
“Do you see now?” Razortail said. “Do you see? Maybe you do not lie, and maybe in your dreams you really did meet humans who are kind and loving to you. But these are not the humans you dreamt of. Would your humans skulk through the night and slaughter us as we sleep? These are humans who are out to *kill* us, Scarfang! And we need you! We need you there to fight alongside us! Please!”
Biscuit laid one claw on the opening which Razortail had created, and with a light snort, he *pushed*.
The mountain yielded to him the way that daisies yield to tornadoes. For a brief moment, the battles raging below paused as countless eyes swiveled to search for the source of the explosion. Biscuit pulled his wings in close, then unfurled them in a single motion, the way the others had taught him. His leathery wings punched through the air, beating faster, stronger than he ever thought possible. He pulled his head back, then bellowed, and a giant comet of fire erupted from him and burned a hole through the sky.
“I see now,” Biscuit said. “These are not the humans I thought they were. These are Bad Men. And I think I know how to deal with Bad Men.”
---
/r/rarelyfunny
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[WP] In your lifetime, stories of ordinary people being reborn or transported into fantastical worlds of magic and heroes were popular... not that you knew this, being a dog. Then you got hit by a Truck, and now you're a Dragon that just wishes belly rubs were as easy to get as they used to be.
|
I am a dire wolf. The mightiest creature in all the land! My woofs inspire fear in the hearts of anyone who would harm my humans. The master of all I survey. I stride proudly around the borders of my family's lands. Ready to alert them of any threat. I am majestic. The most powerful creature who ever lived and-- Oooh a butterfly! I changed direction on a dime and sprinted after it.
(Anyone else looking at the scene would see a small, extremely derpy corgi stumbling around the lawn and sidewalk in front of a small suburban house, but he truly saw himself as a mighty creature.)
I am smart doggo. I know not to walk out onto the evil black river. It was dangerous, cars did zoomies on it all day and all night long. My mom n dad taught me that on my first days of life as a puppy. But the tiny human was slowly stumbling in that direction and dad couldn't see her with his head in the trunk of our car! I ran up to her to try and stop her, but she just patted my head, smiled and kept walking. Her little paws had reached the blackness, I had to act fast! I barked my loudest bark, and it got dad to look at us. His face turned to horror and he started running toward her, but I knew he was too far away. It was the wolf's time to act.
I sprinted into the dangerous black place after my beloved baby human. I saw the car coming at her rapidly, but I sped up. I could get there first, I knew it in my heart. With no time to spare, I summoned my mightiest boop and knocked her out of the way. Then I was flying. Very confusing, because it wasn't fun jumpy flying, it was hurty flying. I hit the ground and realized I couldn't move, but I didn't care, my eyes were locked on tiny human as dad scooped her up in his arms before sprinting over to me. Both of them petted and cradled me as tears streamed down their faces. "Good boy... good good boy... it's okay buddy... oh god I'm so sorry... you did so good... such a good boy", dad said, now sobbing uncontrollably as he held me.
I didn't yelp or cry because I didn't want them to be sad. I couldn't wag my tail to tell them it was okay, so I licked their hands. I wanted them to know I would have done anything for my humans. I closed my eyes for the last time as I was being cuddled and told I was a good boy, not a bad way to go.
​
My eyes snapped open in confusion. I was in a forest now. Things looked different. The colors were brighter. I could blink sideways. Was this place doggy heaven? A girl came out of the woods and stopped in her tracks upon seeing me. She wore strange clothing but she looked an awful lot like my tiny human! As I ran towards her I realized I now towered above her. She very cautiously reached out to pet me. I opened my mouth to smile at her and she screamed and ran away. I had never been more sad in my entire hecking life. Looking down at my paws I realized I had scales on my feet. Compared to my happy fluffy fur I was not a fan, but I'd have to get used to it. Not knowing what else to do I headed off in the direction she had run, but slowly and more carefully this time, so as not to scare her again.
As I walked the ground rumbled around me, which would be kinda fun if I wasn't so scared of thunder. I walked for what might have been hours or days (I was never too good at telling time) until finally I arrived at a town. But again it looked very different. The houses were tiny and made of stones. The roofs were made out of what cows eat. Oh, and the town was on fire. Humans ran from other humans in shiny suits who were chasing them with metal sticks. When they caught them, I realized the mean men were hurting them! I frantically searched the town with my eyes for my new little friend.
I spotted her, but I could see a big man in the most shiny suit walking towards her, he pulled his giant metal stick off his hip as well, he was going to hurt tiny human! I had to act fast. Without a thought, I leapt into the air... and I flew! Happy flying, fun flying! Wheeeeeee! Whoops, no time for sky zoomies, I was on a mission. I dove down toward my new tiny human friend with all the speed my wings could muster. I made a very fun big big noise when I landed between them.
The shiny man seemed stunned for a moment, but then continued walking towards us with evil in his eyes. I opened my mouth to bark at him... and a whole bunch of flames came out! Aw heck, sorry mister! You were a meanie head but I didn't mean to make you a toasty marshmallow. Oh well, I would do anything to protect my tiny human.
More shiny metal men were running toward us. She scrambled up on my back and urged me to move and I took the hint. I soared into the sky as quickly as I could. We didn't have a destination. I just kept flying to get her as far away from the danger as I could. I think we both knew instinctively that she was my new master, and I loved her already.
I am a dire wolf I thought to myself. Now a flying, furless, armored dire wolf no less! The mightiest creature in all the land. The master of all I survey. And I would not rest until someone called me a good boy again.
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Biscuit draped his wings over his head, and that helped drown out some of the ruckus coming from the far side of the cave. “Just leave me be, please,” he moaned, as sparks flared out from his nostrils. “If it’s dinner, I’m not hungry, alright? And if you’ve come to try and change my mind, well, I’m… I’m tired. Let’s discuss this in the morning, I promise. Just let me-”
But the pounding intensified, and soon the walls of the cave were shaking. From the corner of Biscuit’s eye, he saw cracks spread along the surface of the boulder he had dropped at the cave entrance. It was the largest he could find, and he had been so sure that it would have bought him some much needed solitude, but just like everything else of late, it seemed that nothing would ever go right.
Just as Biscuit nursed the fleeting dregs of hope in his heart, the boulder splintered with a crash. Moonlight streamed in, and Biscuit smelled Razortail’s distinct scent even before her silhouette sharpened in the settling dust. There was a frenzied look in her golden eyes.
“Please, Razortail, tomorrow, alright? I swear, tomorrow I’ll go wherever you want me to go, and I’ll listen to whatever you want to tell me. But for tonight, just for tonight, will you just-”
“You hide there, huddled like a worm, while the humans attack us?”
“-let me… humans? Attack?”
“Do you know that they are out there now, fighting for us?” Razortail screeched, as she stomped towards him. Her claws, fully extended, scored deep marks in the gravel. “One-Eye, Greenscale, Fullwing… even Mangleclaw! The one who always looked up to you! The one who believed in you! The one you crushed when this… this foolishness seized you!”
The blood rose to Biscuit’s cheeks. All of this had nothing to do with him. He knew that. He knew that for sure, right in his heart of hearts. He had asked for none of this. Had he asked for wings? For claws? For scales? Did he ever, even for a fleeting second in his entire life, wish that he would be a dragon? All he wanted was the backyard, the chew-toys, the sprinklers which he wrestled with every morning. None of this had anything to do with him at all.
So why then did he feel guilty?
“For the last time, please, just listen to me!” Biscuit said, whirling on Razortail. “I’m not who you think I am! I’m not… I’m not your leader! I’m not this… this big, bad dragon that you think I am! I can’t even fly in a straight line, you saw that for yourself yesterday! I swear, I’m just a dog, my name is Biscuit, and I-”
Razortail moved faster than he thought possible. One moment she was twenty feet away, the next she had pounced onto him, knocking him over with a swipe of her talons. Biscuit grunted as she planted her claws onto his chest. His tongue flicked across his maw as he tasted blood.
“You’re Scarfang!” she bellowed. “You’re not a dog! You’re not… Biscuit! You’re Scarfang and you’re the greatest dragon who has ever lived! You’re our protector! Our guardian! We need you to stop the humans from killing us!”
“Are you even hearing me? Humans aren’t… humans aren’t what you say they are,” said Biscuit. “They are kind, they pet you when you’re down, they pull you into their homes when the thunder breaks, and they always make sure that you are-”
“Then explain this! Tell me what your eyes see!”
Razortail charged towards the cave walls, throwing her entire weight against the craggy surface. It seemed futile at first, a mid-sized dragon like her against the aged stone, but a spring of fury had been untapped in her. Over and over again she pounded against the walls, her screeches reverberating in the cave. Just as Biscuit thought to pull her back, her barrage broke through the side of the mountain. A passing gale swept through the cracks, carrying with it the scents from the valley below.
Biscuit sat up. He padded over to the makeshift window, and gently pushed Razortail aside. She collapsed at his hind claws, exhausted, spent.
There was definitely metal. The distinct tang of bronze, copper, steel and a dozen different alloys swirled in the air, sharp and biting. There were no such smells in the valley before, not when the other dragons had brought him around, trying to jog his memory, to help restore some sanity to him. Now the valley reeked of it, almost as if someone had unearthed a thousand furnaces, burning as they purified and smelted the very essence of the earth.
There was definitely human too. Not just one, or two, or even a dozen. An old memory stirred in the recesses of Biscuit’s mind – Tanya’s friends had come over for a sleepover, and he had been overwhelmed, trying to distinguish between the scents of Tanya and six other not-quite-Tanyas in her room. But if he thought that was a challenge… now there were *hundreds* of them, more humans than he had ever smelled together at the same time. There was the smell of cooked flesh too, though he couldn’t quite put a talon on exactly what type of meat this was.
And most of all, most distinctly of all… there was blood.
Blood in quantities he did not think possible. Dragon-blood, with hints of bitter and sour, exposed to the night air, hissing as they sprayed from the other dragons who had taken him in, fed him, cared for him. Human-blood too, a crisp, light-bodied aroma, wafting in and out of the valley, rising in cyclones of velvet and red.
By the time Biscuit processed the smells, he knew that Razortail was not lying. The rest of his senses caught up then – the sounds of creatures dying, the sight of untethered warfare – but he had already figured out what he needed to know.
“Do you see now?” Razortail said. “Do you see? Maybe you do not lie, and maybe in your dreams you really did meet humans who are kind and loving to you. But these are not the humans you dreamt of. Would your humans skulk through the night and slaughter us as we sleep? These are humans who are out to *kill* us, Scarfang! And we need you! We need you there to fight alongside us! Please!”
Biscuit laid one claw on the opening which Razortail had created, and with a light snort, he *pushed*.
The mountain yielded to him the way that daisies yield to tornadoes. For a brief moment, the battles raging below paused as countless eyes swiveled to search for the source of the explosion. Biscuit pulled his wings in close, then unfurled them in a single motion, the way the others had taught him. His leathery wings punched through the air, beating faster, stronger than he ever thought possible. He pulled his head back, then bellowed, and a giant comet of fire erupted from him and burned a hole through the sky.
“I see now,” Biscuit said. “These are not the humans I thought they were. These are Bad Men. And I think I know how to deal with Bad Men.”
---
/r/rarelyfunny
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[WP] In your lifetime, stories of ordinary people being reborn or transported into fantastical worlds of magic and heroes were popular... not that you knew this, being a dog. Then you got hit by a Truck, and now you're a Dragon that just wishes belly rubs were as easy to get as they used to be.
|
I am a dire wolf. The mightiest creature in all the land! My woofs inspire fear in the hearts of anyone who would harm my humans. The master of all I survey. I stride proudly around the borders of my family's lands. Ready to alert them of any threat. I am majestic. The most powerful creature who ever lived and-- Oooh a butterfly! I changed direction on a dime and sprinted after it.
(Anyone else looking at the scene would see a small, extremely derpy corgi stumbling around the lawn and sidewalk in front of a small suburban house, but he truly saw himself as a mighty creature.)
I am smart doggo. I know not to walk out onto the evil black river. It was dangerous, cars did zoomies on it all day and all night long. My mom n dad taught me that on my first days of life as a puppy. But the tiny human was slowly stumbling in that direction and dad couldn't see her with his head in the trunk of our car! I ran up to her to try and stop her, but she just patted my head, smiled and kept walking. Her little paws had reached the blackness, I had to act fast! I barked my loudest bark, and it got dad to look at us. His face turned to horror and he started running toward her, but I knew he was too far away. It was the wolf's time to act.
I sprinted into the dangerous black place after my beloved baby human. I saw the car coming at her rapidly, but I sped up. I could get there first, I knew it in my heart. With no time to spare, I summoned my mightiest boop and knocked her out of the way. Then I was flying. Very confusing, because it wasn't fun jumpy flying, it was hurty flying. I hit the ground and realized I couldn't move, but I didn't care, my eyes were locked on tiny human as dad scooped her up in his arms before sprinting over to me. Both of them petted and cradled me as tears streamed down their faces. "Good boy... good good boy... it's okay buddy... oh god I'm so sorry... you did so good... such a good boy", dad said, now sobbing uncontrollably as he held me.
I didn't yelp or cry because I didn't want them to be sad. I couldn't wag my tail to tell them it was okay, so I licked their hands. I wanted them to know I would have done anything for my humans. I closed my eyes for the last time as I was being cuddled and told I was a good boy, not a bad way to go.
​
My eyes snapped open in confusion. I was in a forest now. Things looked different. The colors were brighter. I could blink sideways. Was this place doggy heaven? A girl came out of the woods and stopped in her tracks upon seeing me. She wore strange clothing but she looked an awful lot like my tiny human! As I ran towards her I realized I now towered above her. She very cautiously reached out to pet me. I opened my mouth to smile at her and she screamed and ran away. I had never been more sad in my entire hecking life. Looking down at my paws I realized I had scales on my feet. Compared to my happy fluffy fur I was not a fan, but I'd have to get used to it. Not knowing what else to do I headed off in the direction she had run, but slowly and more carefully this time, so as not to scare her again.
As I walked the ground rumbled around me, which would be kinda fun if I wasn't so scared of thunder. I walked for what might have been hours or days (I was never too good at telling time) until finally I arrived at a town. But again it looked very different. The houses were tiny and made of stones. The roofs were made out of what cows eat. Oh, and the town was on fire. Humans ran from other humans in shiny suits who were chasing them with metal sticks. When they caught them, I realized the mean men were hurting them! I frantically searched the town with my eyes for my new little friend.
I spotted her, but I could see a big man in the most shiny suit walking towards her, he pulled his giant metal stick off his hip as well, he was going to hurt tiny human! I had to act fast. Without a thought, I leapt into the air... and I flew! Happy flying, fun flying! Wheeeeeee! Whoops, no time for sky zoomies, I was on a mission. I dove down toward my new tiny human friend with all the speed my wings could muster. I made a very fun big big noise when I landed between them.
The shiny man seemed stunned for a moment, but then continued walking towards us with evil in his eyes. I opened my mouth to bark at him... and a whole bunch of flames came out! Aw heck, sorry mister! You were a meanie head but I didn't mean to make you a toasty marshmallow. Oh well, I would do anything to protect my tiny human.
More shiny metal men were running toward us. She scrambled up on my back and urged me to move and I took the hint. I soared into the sky as quickly as I could. We didn't have a destination. I just kept flying to get her as far away from the danger as I could. I think we both knew instinctively that she was my new master, and I loved her already.
I am a dire wolf I thought to myself. Now a flying, furless, armored dire wolf no less! The mightiest creature in all the land. The master of all I survey. And I would not rest until someone called me a good boy again.
|
A new smell in my cave wakes me from my slumber. I raise my head up, shuffling on the coins I’ve made my bed.
The bed a beast like myself is supposed to have, I remind myself. I am no longer what I used to be, the small, frail little creature that was dependent on others.
*No*, not anymore. I am a dragon now. I am strong. I can feel power flowing through my rising legs as a previously unbearable heat scratches my throat.
I feel my scales, the sharp, nigh-impenetrable skin that protects my valuable insides.
The warm wind through my cave brushes my bare belly as I force myself up. Something flashes in my mind.
A feeling, a thought—a want from my old life. The old, dumbed intelligence I used to know trickles back into my mind and I find myself panting as the wish solidifies.
Suddenly, inexplicably, I want my belly rubbed.
A roar starts growing in my throat and I shake my head, smoke spewing from my snout. My roar, then, is matched by a rumble in my stomach as my want for care is swallowed up by a much more present need.
I am hungry.
Stepping forward once more onto my hoard’s smooth stone floor, I duck low and focus again.
The sound from before—it’s closer now. I can hear it ever-present when not distracted by my thoughts. I can almost *feel* the presence, and I know what they’re here for.
“Halt your progression, dragon!” the small man shouts, his armor gleaming in light from the mouth of my cave.
I almost laugh, but I know to hold my tongue. I know *now* at least. As senses trickle information to my brain, I can only be thankful for my newfound intelligence.
Instead, I respond with one large puff of smoke.
The knight waves his hands and steps forward, drawing his puny blade.
“No more will you terrorize these lands! I have come to slay you, beast!”
Shaking my head idly, I narrow my eyes. The movement solidifies only a moment later and my claws come down.
Only a small part of my cave falls and blocks his exit without a moment to spare.
Fear strikes on his face and I can’t help but lick my lips. However, as my tongue comes out, it laps and I find myself panting.
Overcome by the urge again, I scurry toward the fearful knight.
He raises his sword to defend, righteousness glinting in his eyes.
I knock the sword away without a second thought.
“Belly rubs,” I say, thanking my new mind for the ability to speak.
The knight blanches. “What do you want with me, dragon?”
The urge just nags at me again. “Belly rubs,” I say and gesture to my exposed stomach.
His brows furrow and his fingers start shaking. “Kill me quickly!” he pleads. “Spare me this vile torture!”
I shake my head, bored of his theatrics. “Give me belly rubs and I will let you go.”
His eyes widen and he stares at me. I stare right back, my tongue still limp outside my mouth.
Then, slowly, uncertainly, he steps forward and extends his hand.
I drop to the floor and let him continue, relishing in the feeling I have such missed in my new life.
As seconds bleed on, he gets more comfortable and starts accepting my cuteness. I purr in satisfaction—or, as close as a dragon can get.
Then, under his hand, my stomach rumbles again and I remember my new life.
Fire sparks in my throat and I stare at him more fiercely. I am still hungry... and he is still food...
But the belly rubs for the time just feel too good and I let him continue for a while.
That is, until I get tired of the bit and bite his head off, swallowing it down in a single gulp.
---
/r/Palmerranian
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[WP] In your lifetime, stories of ordinary people being reborn or transported into fantastical worlds of magic and heroes were popular... not that you knew this, being a dog. Then you got hit by a Truck, and now you're a Dragon that just wishes belly rubs were as easy to get as they used to be.
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All I wanted was to be a good boy. I wanted to wait at the door for my people. I wanted to fetch the pinecones and bring them back like little presents to show my love. I *especially* wanted to scare away the little, four-legged and bushy-tailed tree demons that chirped and ate the birdseed. And most of all, I wanted to bark away the white doom that brought the rain and blotted out the sun.
But that didn’t happen.
Life doesn’t always go as planned.
So when I saw the truck back out of the driveway, and I saw the master’s human-puppy crawling behind it, I knew what I had to do. I had to be a good boy.
My loud voice wasn’t going to stop it, but I always ran fast. So I ran—I grabbed him and I tossed him as far away as I could. I felt something explode in my chest, a searing pain and a strange numbness. My vision blurred and fogged over until all I saw was a vail of white.
When I heard the crying wail of the newborn, I knew I was a good boy.
My person screamed and ran to me. Her warm hand stroked my ears gently; her hot tears fell like rain on my fur. I wish I could have cried with her.
I wagged my tail until it stopped.
Then I drifted out into the void of white. The warm radiance lifted me up and surrounded me like a blanket. I didn’t feel pain anymore, only peace. At the edge of the white, there existed a tiny pinprick of color, a single ray of green and blue that pierced through the veil. Instinctively, I walked, then ran as fast I could, called by the immutable summons of light.
I smashed my muzzle against it and the white void cracked like an egg.
Hatching is a weird thing.
I don’t know if I’ll ever understand it. I crawled out of my egg and looked around at my other brother’s and sisters. There must have been dozens of them! I *knew* they were my siblings, but they looked so different! They had tiny scales all over, green and gold and black spotted with glimmering brilliance—even in the dim light!
We crawled through the pile of warm dirt and molded leaf litter towards the cracks in the light. Together we dug, with our pointed muzzles and our tiny claws. And we sang the song of our people—a tiny squeak. I wanted to find mother so badly!
We burst forth from the mound and crawled to freedom. My brothers and sisters scattered into the forest, and I followed, not knowing what to except or where to go. My tail shook. I quivered, hiding under a mossy log. A four-legged and bushy-tailed tree demon walked around me, and this time I was the one hiding for my life.
Underneath that log, I learned I could cry.
***
r/BLT_WITH_RANCH
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All these years later, I still have not forgotten that fateful day.
I was wandering the neighborhood one day while my human was gone. He would disappear for what felt like days on end. How differently time seemed to pass in those days.
I was rolling around in the grass across the street from my home, when I heard the noise.
It was my human's truck! I was so excited. I wanted to greet him, to welcome him home after he was gone for so long.
I couldn't contain my excitement; I sprinted toward him, my tongue flapping in the wind as I bounded toward the road.
My human didn't see me until it was too late. My body was suddenly filled with pain as I was crushed under the wheels. My human stopped his truck and got out, crying.
"No, no, no, no..." he sobbed. "I'm so sorry, boy."
I wanted to get up and let him know it was ok, that I still loved him, but I couldn't get up no matter how much I struggled.
My human reached into his truck and pulled out some kind of weird stick, not like the kind I liked to chew on. He pointed it at me.
"I'm so sorry!" he said again. "I love you, boy. Just stay calm, you're going to a better place."
He did something to stick and it made a loud clicking sound.
"I'm so sorry," he repeated, tears streaming down his face. Then the stick made a loud bang, and everything went dark.
I woke up somewhere dark. The smells and sounds around me were not familiar. I was far from my own territory. I stood up and stretched, and I could tell something was very different about me. I spun around to look, and yelped in surprise. I looked a lot different! I had scales like that lizard I had eaten a few days before, and I had wings like that bird I almost caught when it tried to steal from my food bowl.
I flapped them once, but sneezed from all the dust it kicked up. Strange lights shot out of my nostrils when I did, and I jumped in surprise. It looked like the type of light me and my human sat by one night in the woods after a long day of playing outside.
I took a look around me, taking in my new surroundings. There were trees all around. I could hear birds chirping and squirrels running across the branches. I could smell so many critters, some smelled familiar, while others were new to me.
Where was I?
I walked for a few minutes, following my nose to a stream. I stopped to take a drink, but it took me a while to get the hang of drinking water with my new tongue. It had a strange fork in it for some reason.
I kept walking beside the stream and followed it downstream. That's when I smelled them.
Humans!
I bounded through the forest. Maybe they could help me get back home!
I saw their houses up ahead, and ran faster, my tongue flapping in the wind again.
One of them saw me. I ran toward her.
She screamed and ran away! Why? I just wanted to play!
I could hear other people screaming too. All of the humans ran and hid, except for a few. They grabbed some pointy sticks and ran toward me.
They want to play! I thought as they ran toward me. One of them threw a stick at me. It flew over my head. I turned and ran after it. I sniffed around until I found it lying in the grass. I picked it up and held it between my teeth as I ran to return it to my new friends.
I dropped it in front of them, panting from all the running. They looked at each other, very confused. One of them finally threw another stick. I ran and got it, too.
A third human threw a stick. It flew really close, so jumped up and caught it in the air. I returned it to the puzzled humans. I sat down, still panting, waiting for someone else to throw a stick.
But they just stood there. I sniffed them, and I could tell they were scared. Why? I thought we were friends!
"What in the name of the King is happening?" one of them asked.
"I have no idea," another one said. "It's acting like a dog!"
"It's a trick!" another human chimed in.
They all began to argue about what they should do next. I wanted to show them I was friendly, so I rolled over onto my back and started rolling around, my tongue still hanging out. They just looked on in shock.
They all started to walk away, saying something about coming up with a new plan. Except one man, who stayed behind. He slowly walked toward me, stick in hand. He raised it above his head as he got close. He didn't look happy. I stopped rolling around and looked up at him, that same goofy, happy expression on my face.
He slowly lowered his stick and knelt down. He started my rubbing my belly.
"Men, come back!" He yelled with a smile as my rear, left left leg started to kick involuntarily. "You must see this!"
"Edward, get back!" one of them yelled as he ran in and jabbed me with a stick. I yelped in pain and jumped to my feet. I ran back to the trees, tail between my legs. What did I do wrong? I didn't get it.
"What was that for?" I heard the human called Edward yell as I hid in the trees.
I pulled the stick out my side with my teeth, and sat down to lick my wound. I would probably go back in a little while, but I didn't care about those mean humans.
I think I made a new friend!
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[WP] You are a serial killer. But, you only kill in "self-defense." Your plan is to subtly and calculatedly annoy your victims until they finally react with violence. From a punch to a gentle shove, it doesn't matter. Your current prey however has an iron will unlike anything you have seen before.
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The next target was walking down the block. Tall, lanky, gray hair.
Perfect.
This was exactly the kind of guy I could poke and prod into shoving me. Then...then my little friend in my pocket could come out. I felt the point of the knife jab into the skin of my finger. It felt good. It felt right.
As the man was passing, I stood up from the bench and nearly leveled him with my shoulder. He stumbled and looked at me in surprise. I snarled at him and gave him my ugliest stare.
"Fuckin' watch yourself, asshole," I said.
"Well, hello there," he said cheerfully. I glared at him.
"What'd you say to me?"
"I said hello there. How are you today?"
"I'm in a shit-poor mood, so don't test me."
"Well, that's a shame. Would you like to talk about it?"
This was new. Normally, people would take the cue and try to walk off, giving me the chance to harass them more. This one, though...
"What? Why the fuck would I talk about it to you?"
"Everyone needs somebody to talk to sometimes. I know I do. It helps to have friends."
"And you want to be my friend?" I said with a sneer. He smiled.
"Of course! Everyone deserves to have a friend."
"Hah! Nobody needs a friend like you. Just look at you. It's the middle of July. What kind of asshole wears a lame-ass sweater in July? You freak."
"Well, that's not very nice, but I understand that you're hurting. I can see it. Would you like a hug?"
This was really backfiring. I needed him to break. I had to push harder.
"What are you, some kind of creeper? You touch me, I get to defend myself."
"Good! It's important for everyone to set boundaries for themselves. Your body is yours. I wouldn't dream of making you uncomfortable."
"You...you already are!"
"Well, gosh, I'm certainly sorry then. It wasn't my intent. It's just so sad to see anyone hurting."
"I..."
"Is there anything I can do for you?"
Something was cracking. Something deep inside me. Something that had been cold and black for a long, long time now was warming up. What was this? What was going on?
"It...no...fuck off."
"Are you sure? You look shaky. Please, sit down. I'll go get you some water."
No. No. I couldn't let him do it. What was *happening*?
"It's...fine. I'm fine. You, you should...you should go."
He should *go*? What was *that*?
He didn't. Instead, he helped me sit down and sat down next to me. I could smell his cologne. It was soft and warm, just like his sweater. He placed a hand on my shoulder and I nearly cried.
"What...who are you?" I sputtered out.
He smiled.
"My name is Fred. I'd love to be your neighbor."
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“Hey there, man.” I said to the man next to me on the bench. He nodded to me but did not look up from the newspaper he was reading.
“What are you reading?” I asked. He mumbled, “the newspaper, what’s it look like?” He still did not look up.
“Jeez, I was just asking a simple question.” I said, and waited for a response. When he didn’t give one, I started to whistle loudly.
“What’s your name?” I asked him.
“Can’t you take a hint?” He said.
“Oh is that how it is, fuckface?” I asked.
“Can you bother someone else?” He asked, raising his newspaper so that it covered his face.
I knocked the newspaper to the ground. “Enjoy picking that up, bitch!”
“You’re the most childish person I’ve ever met.” He said, picking up his newspaper out of a puddle on the ground.
“Then do something about it!” I said, spitting on his shoe.
“You’re not worth it.”
“I’m worth it more than you’ve ever known, I fucked your sister!”
“I don’t have a sister!”
“Then, I fucked your mom!”
A few bystanders started noticing our argument. One of them yelled, “Just kick his ass, that’ll shut him up!”
“It’s what he wants!” said the man.
“You have no self-respect.” I said to him. “You let people say whatever they want to you.”
“And you’re a snot-nosed punk.”
“If you don’t hit me, I will kill someone.” I said to him, knowing that I had him at last.
“I’m calling the police on your dumbass.” he said to me. He pulled out his phone and I knocked it to the ground.
He screamed in frustation and I flinched for a second. But then he composed himself and picked the phone off the ground.
“Don’t call the cops, you fucking coward. Let’s settle this like men.” I said to him.
He started to dial the police on his phone. Again, I swiped at him, aiming to knock it out of his hand. He anticipated it this time and stepped out of the way. I tripped on the curb and fell to the sidewalk.
“He hit me!” I yelled. “He pushed me down!”
“No he didn’t.” said a bystander. “I saw the whole thing.”
“All right, enough.” I said to the man. “I’ll give you $100 dollars to hit me.”
“Why do you want me to hit you so bad?”
“I don’t know, I’m a masochist.”
“Make it $200 and we got a deal.”
“Deal,” I said, pulling out my wallet and handing him $200.
He punched me and knocked me to the ground. The crowd cheered for him. I waited for him to turn his back and then I got up and pulled out a knife.
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[WP] There is a deep hole just outside your village. The elders pick one person to dive in every year, 'for the good of the tribe', never to be seen again. The elders have just chosen you. You're expected to jump tonight.
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I watched from the tree as the head elder reached into the box pulling out a small card. He unfolded the paper, “Tai-ge Hanyu”. My face paled as he read my name, everybody in the crowd went a frenzy looking for me. I wish I burned the incense the shaman lady gave me.
My mother cried hearing the news, and my father comforted her. I felt a slight tug on my clothes, Min-ge looked up at me. “Why are they crying?” I picked up my little brother and walked into the room. My father looked up, his eyes were red. He motion for us to join them in a hug, “at least they’re paying a high amount of money...” I trailed of trying to lighten the mood, but my mother cried even more. A sudden knock on the door made my mother hold onto me. She gripped my clothes almost tearing them, “don’t leave me”, she choked out before sobbing even more.
I opened the door, a soldier stood outside, “we are starting the beautification process.” My parents screamed in protest as the soldier grabbed my and and yanked Min-ge out of my arms. The soldier pushed me into a carriage and locked me inside. I heard the horses neigh, the carriage started moving.
The carriage halted and a I heard a few murmurs. Finally, they opened the door. There were many trees around the the carriage. One of the soldiers tied my hands and blindfolded me. They proceeded to walk somewhere. I saw some light through the fabric of the blindfold and heard many female voices. “Ms. Hanyu, we will be preparing you tonight.”
The ladies stripped me and bathed me in rose water. They washed my hair with the finest quality of shampoo and added multiple expensive oils. They dressed me in a white flowing hanfu with gold trim. I protested as they tried to put makeup on me, “Ms. Hanyu, this is for your own good.” They brushed on red makeup all over my face and placed numerous ornaments in my hair. I looked like a princess.
I stepped onto the plank leading into the hole, the whole tribe gathered around. My mother cried into my father’s arm and my brother looked at me longingly. I sighed, the elders clipped a white cloth blocking my face and chained a concrete block on my foot. They chanted a ritual and pushed me into the waters. I couldn’t breathe, my lungs burned as it filled with water. Which corpse will I lay next to?
I jerked up from the darkness and opened my eyes, where was I? The interior of the room looked like it belonged in a royal palace. I got up and peered opened the curtains more, I gasped. There was water everywhere and I was somehow breathing? “Water bride, you have seem to waken.” I flipped my head in surprise, outside on my doorway stood a man with platinum blond hair. I nodded slowly and he walked away.
I was led to the washroom by the palace maids, and once again I was stripped and washed. I’ve never felt so clean. They dressed my up in a baby blue flowing hanfu with silver trim and dragon embroidery. The man from before lead me to the throne room. There, I saw the most beautiful person ever.
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I walk to the edge of the hole cautiously. The tribe stands in a circle, surrounding me, completing the age old ritual with stamping, chanting and sticks hitting the ground. They will not force me. I have been chosen, and I will willingly fulfill my role as has alway been done.
I look in. Nothingness. No sign of what has become of any previous participants, or what will become of me. I close me eyes for a moment, take in the familiar sounds of my tribe, my village, my home, then dive in head first.
I fall gracefully, like taking a perfect dive into the South Lake at the edge of our village. I see only blackness, for what seems like ages, as the sounds of my past get softer and softer. There become a small light, at what look like the bottom of the hole, getting brighter and brighter. I start hearing new noises, what sounds like a kind of animal honking, and the sound of many people.
I can see now a circle above my head, meaning at the bottom of the hole, and light coming in all around the edges. The sounds are coming from there and getting louder and louder. All at once, I reach the bottom, the force of head pushing into the circle, forcing it out of the way, and continuing the forward momentum of my body onto a rough surface.
There are so many lights surrounding me, huge machines around my head with fumes and smoke being blasted into my face and lungs. A cacophony of noise and so many strange people staring at me. I stand to my feet, wobbly, and look around. There are buildings taller than the tallest trees in our forest and a huge sign above me that says “Times Square”. What is this hole, this portal, and where has it taken me?
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[WP] There is a deep hole just outside your village. The elders pick one person to dive in every year, 'for the good of the tribe', never to be seen again. The elders have just chosen you. You're expected to jump tonight.
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The knock comes at dawn. I am barely awake, but somewhere in my mind, the fear creeps in. Nobody knocks on another's door this early. Something is wrong.
I grab my axe and move towards the door, legs bent, toes curled. I have spent many years learning to be quiet; I am the best hunter in the realm, and I worked hard to keep it that way. Worked hard to make sure I would never be the one.
I approach the door, and the knock comes again. A murmur from outside--a voice. Deep, gravelly. An elder? I lower my axe, but cannot calm myself. Only once before did I recall an elder summoning one of us this early. That day was the last I would see of my father.
My heart beats like rain on my roof in the cold months. I think about running, about taking my axe and all the food I can carry and never returning. But beyond the walls of our realm madness awaits. This I have seen with my own eyes.
Perhaps, I muse, this is why I do not fear it. And why the pit within our walls makes me cold to the bone. The Madness you know scares less than the one you don't.
Slowly, stiffly, I open the door. The Elders are there, the nine men and women to whom I devoted myself for twenty long years.
"Hello, Haldr," they say, their voices tinny from behind the animal skull masks. "It is time. You are chosen."
Clouds have gathered when I am escorted to the pit. The elders have given me a full escort of warriors from the raiding party. They know my skills, my strength; they were wise to bring them. Every bone in my body wants to fight, to survive. But the values I have distilled into myself from a lifetime of hunting and fighting to protect this place do not allow those impulses to linger. Even if it means my doom, I shall not betray them.
They bring me to the edge and step back. The elders walk forward and begin to paint me in the ceremonial colors--red of blood, blue of sky, green of water. They speak words of a long-dead language.
I stare at Elder Frej, her blue eyes still appearing kind beneath the decorated skull of a deer. Or perhaps that is just my wishful thinking. She applies green markings to my neck, and I lean closer.
"Frej, please. I have given everything to our band, to our way. Why have I been chosen? Why do you wish my death?"
Frej glances at the others, then whispers back, as if telling me a secret. "Hold fast, Haldr. It is not as you think. You will understand soon."
My mind races. The ceremony passes in a blur of faces I will never see again. The elders speak more of the old language. And then it is time.
"Jager Haldr, you are chosen. The bridge is yours to traverse."
I look down into the blackness. It is raining now, and mud slipslides down the sides of the pit.
Frej's words resonate within me, and a thought occurs to me. The hope she wished to bring me--it is false, I know. But, standing upon the sword's edge between death and life, I realize it's falsehood does not matter. It is still hope. It is better than none.
I step off the edge.
The wind whistles around me and I fall like a spear. My arms I keep crossed around my chest. The light disappears from above and suddenly I land--no, dive--into mud, no doubt accumulated from above.
I am engulfed by it. I kick towards the surface, but I cannot find it. There is a current, like some unholy river, and it is pulling me down. I cannot see. My head breaches above the tides every few moments, and I take what breath I can, but my body seems to weaken. I taste earth and the earth consumes me.
Time passes, I know not how much. My hand brushes something--something not mud. I clench it. It sticks. My grip on it stays. I can breathe. I realize my eyes are closed.
I blink away mud. I am staring into a sky of grey clouds. The rain begins to wash away the grime, and I sit up, slowly, and breathe in the humid air.
The men I notice first. They wear strange suits of dark leather and fabric, and hold rods of jagged black metal, adorned with glass. The rods are pointed at me. They have no points, but I know they are weapons. The men stand with purpose, feet apart and eyes fixed upon me. They watch with palpable tension when I stand, wary of me, but not attacking. It is then that I see the rest of them.
People in a garb I do not recognize, holding canopies on sticks above their heads--to protect from rain? The question lingers, then fades, when I examine the things behind them. Squared off sculptures of metal and glass, towering into the sky--no, not sculptures. Structures. People move within them, all their gazes trained towards me, standing bare of foot in a field of wet grass.
A woman approaches me. She is clean, more than anyone I've ever seen. She smiles.
"I know you're scared, Haldr," she says. "But I promise you this: you don't have to be scared any more." I want to protest, to ask her how she knows my name, where I am--am I dead? But then I look behind the woman, and like the falseness of the hope, those things cease to matter.
A man stands behind the woman, wearing the same odd clothing, carrying one of the canopies. He is crying, but there is a smile on his face. His hair his a pale grey now, and his beard much longer, but he is my father. He drops his canopy and runs to me, holding me tight within his arms.
I am home.
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I walk to the edge of the hole cautiously. The tribe stands in a circle, surrounding me, completing the age old ritual with stamping, chanting and sticks hitting the ground. They will not force me. I have been chosen, and I will willingly fulfill my role as has alway been done.
I look in. Nothingness. No sign of what has become of any previous participants, or what will become of me. I close me eyes for a moment, take in the familiar sounds of my tribe, my village, my home, then dive in head first.
I fall gracefully, like taking a perfect dive into the South Lake at the edge of our village. I see only blackness, for what seems like ages, as the sounds of my past get softer and softer. There become a small light, at what look like the bottom of the hole, getting brighter and brighter. I start hearing new noises, what sounds like a kind of animal honking, and the sound of many people.
I can see now a circle above my head, meaning at the bottom of the hole, and light coming in all around the edges. The sounds are coming from there and getting louder and louder. All at once, I reach the bottom, the force of head pushing into the circle, forcing it out of the way, and continuing the forward momentum of my body onto a rough surface.
There are so many lights surrounding me, huge machines around my head with fumes and smoke being blasted into my face and lungs. A cacophony of noise and so many strange people staring at me. I stand to my feet, wobbly, and look around. There are buildings taller than the tallest trees in our forest and a huge sign above me that says “Times Square”. What is this hole, this portal, and where has it taken me?
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[WP] There is a deep hole just outside your village. The elders pick one person to dive in every year, 'for the good of the tribe', never to be seen again. The elders have just chosen you. You're expected to jump tonight.
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‘Kai!’ the shrill voice of the Priestess resonated through the pavilion, causing every head to turn towards me. It was the first time a beautiful woman called my name and I was anything less than ecstatic. The ‘Appointment’ had been apart of my village’s traditions since before I was born. It’s very simple, you see? Random people pick someone to throw into a seemingly endless pit.
Now, if those people are serfs, this is a crime but if they have steel and gold, they’re elders doing the work of the gods.
I hated its formality. This wasn’t a celebration; it was a death sentence yet the elders had us all gathered there waiting for the Priestess to call out a name. I would prefer them to just take you out of your sleep and just throw you at once. No need to torture us with the grandeur of it all.
The birds had stopped chirping, the wind became sharp against my skin and my heartbeat slowed down*.*
*boom, boom.*
My feet felt like lead in sand water as I made the walk towards the Priestess. I looked in the faces of my fellow villagers, all different ages and sizes. For some, this was their first ‘*Appointment’* and their excitement couldn’t be contained. Others were indifferent, even irritated at the length of this ritual though no one voiced that opinion. The elders would have their tongue.
None of the villagers made eye contact with me. It was bad luck to into the eyes of a ‘Jumper’. According to the elders, their gaze brings death to your doorstep. Superstitions were never my thing and now, I was going to die because of one. Poetic injustice.
However, it seemed one villager didn’t heed the warning. He was the local drunk, a man who was known for his erratic rants and proneness to piss in public. We locked eyes and I saw something that took me off guard: pity. The same man who was known to beg for a few coins to aid his habits was offering his silent condolences. It was the only one I received.
I knelt before the Priestess as she spoke her incantation, the words forming a noose around my neck, the air out of my lungs. If I had to kneel there for an eternity and beyond to avoid the ‘Hole’, I’d do it and when she stopped, I didn’t have to strength to get back up. The elders hoisted me up to my feet and marched me up to the’ Hole’, a well that looked like it was made for the giants.
They threw me to the floor and collectively stepped back. That was the part I always found interesting.
They believed the sacrifice is ruined without the free will of the victim so the elders would never force someone to jump. However, if you didn’t do so on your own accord, you’d be exiled to farthest ends of the woods, beyond the help of even the spirits. I laid in the wet mud as I reminisced on all of the ‘Appointments’ I’ve witnessed. Men, women and children, even infants and cripples. They all screamed. All of their last words were incoherent wastes of good breath. I wouldn’t make the same mistake. I stood up, slowly but surely. I stared into the faces of the elders with a ferocity that they would remember for the remainder of their days. I looked at the stars, the bright moon which was looking brighter than ever. Perhaps the spirits were watching. I cursed. At the villagers for allowing the outright murder of their families without an uproar. At the elders for upholding this barbaric practice, and the corrupt gods they claim to serve. I was met with an eerie silence, almost if my words were foreign. Then the chants began.
The elders face contorted in anger and led a vocal crusade against me, one that was so loud, I’m sure all the wildlife awoke to it. I stepped up on the edge of the ‘Hole’ and glanced at the seemingly endless darkness. The screams behind me got louder and more demented. A fitting send-off, if I do say so myself. I turned back to the crowd one last time and found the drunk front and center of the pandemonium. He was smiling with his crooked and bent teeth. I returned one back at him, with equal enthusiasm. I jumped into the unknown as the birds resumed their chirping and the sharp wind tore away my flesh.
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I walk to the edge of the hole cautiously. The tribe stands in a circle, surrounding me, completing the age old ritual with stamping, chanting and sticks hitting the ground. They will not force me. I have been chosen, and I will willingly fulfill my role as has alway been done.
I look in. Nothingness. No sign of what has become of any previous participants, or what will become of me. I close me eyes for a moment, take in the familiar sounds of my tribe, my village, my home, then dive in head first.
I fall gracefully, like taking a perfect dive into the South Lake at the edge of our village. I see only blackness, for what seems like ages, as the sounds of my past get softer and softer. There become a small light, at what look like the bottom of the hole, getting brighter and brighter. I start hearing new noises, what sounds like a kind of animal honking, and the sound of many people.
I can see now a circle above my head, meaning at the bottom of the hole, and light coming in all around the edges. The sounds are coming from there and getting louder and louder. All at once, I reach the bottom, the force of head pushing into the circle, forcing it out of the way, and continuing the forward momentum of my body onto a rough surface.
There are so many lights surrounding me, huge machines around my head with fumes and smoke being blasted into my face and lungs. A cacophony of noise and so many strange people staring at me. I stand to my feet, wobbly, and look around. There are buildings taller than the tallest trees in our forest and a huge sign above me that says “Times Square”. What is this hole, this portal, and where has it taken me?
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[WP] There is a deep hole just outside your village. The elders pick one person to dive in every year, 'for the good of the tribe', never to be seen again. The elders have just chosen you. You're expected to jump tonight.
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"Don't do it Vinh," Nadia pleaded. She stared at her best friend she'd known since childhood, begging him to change his mind. "You don't have to do this. We can go. Right now. I'll grab whatever I can, throw it in my pack while you grab your things."
As Nadia spoke, her sunburnt skin gleaming from torchlight nearby, Vinh chose silence. Just as it always had been between them. When Nadia talked, Vinh was quick to listen. She was, after all, the smartest person he knew. Smarter than some of the elders even. Clever and tricky, a dangerous mix. But right now, she was neither of those things. Right now, Nadia was desperate.
"We'll take just enough food to last us for a week. If we're lucky we can make it to the harbor master at Senno'Loa docks before harvest week begins. We can take a boat to the main land and from there we'll disappear!" The more she spoke, the more she began convincing herself.
"Nadia-" Vinh said, his voice barely above a whisper. She paid him no mind. Instead, she continued spelling out her grand design.
"We'll make it on the main land. From there, we can hike across the Verdant Hills. My Uncle told me about them once, he said they were beautiful! Like an endless sea but made of grass instead of water. You'll love it, Vinh. You've always loved the simple things."
"Nadia." Vinh tried again, trying to draw her back from wherever her imagination took her. This time his voice was a bit more firm yet still she ignored him.
"Then, once we get past the hills, we can try our luck at the *city*. I've heard about it in stories. They say people there travel on mechanical contraptions! Great big old things, made of metal and with wheels at the bottom, carrying the passenger wherever they want. How crazy does that sound!? Mainlanders..." Nadia shook her head giving a judgmental click of her tongue. "The things they come up with. It's so, well, ridiculous! Don't you want to see what other crazy inventions they've come up with?"
Vinh, despite knowing better, nodded. He'd play along for now knowing it would make her happy. "Crazy mainlanders." He muttered, just like he always had. Nadia beamed at that.
"We can find work. Me and you, Vinh. We'll tend to the fields. I doubt those lazy city-dwellers know what hard work really looks like. You can even show them how a proper hunt should be while I till and harvest the crops. Trust me, we'll find a place there. We can make it!"
This was it, the only play available to the two of them. At least it's what she clearly believed. Her hazel brown eyes, vibrant of color, teeming with such life, gave way to the true words hidden in her heart. She was terrified of what was to come. Fear was blinding her, Vinh knew. She was allowing herself to subscribe to thoughts that would only make things harder in the end. Because no matter what sort of fantasy scenario she whipped up in her head, Vinh knew it wouldn't come. They couldn't have what she wanted. For that matter. They couldn't have what he wanted.
Because Vinh was a marked one.
Every year, a Scared ritual was held on the island of Senno'Loa. They called it, the Senno'Loa dive. There, in the heart of the village, a seemingly endless hole known as the *Gaping Maw* stood waiting. No one knew what it was exactly. None knew how deep the hole went. There were no answers here, only questions. Simply put, it just was. But there was more to it than just a silly hole. This was where the Sacred Ritual took place. A ritual where one tribesmen was chosen to jump in all in order to appease the elder god Sennok.
Legend had it that Sennok was a bountiful deity who bestowed an endless bounty upon the island. However, Sennok was a demanding god as well. In order for his gift to be given, a sacrifice need be made. The marked ones, they'd been called, chosen tribesmen who were deigned worthy by some invisible hand, were charged with jumping into the Gaping Maw. They'd never be seen again, but without fail, there sacrifice would ensure another years harvest.
And right now, Nadia was being forced to watch her dearest friend, the one true friend she could confide into, the one she had secretly given away her heart to, be forced to make the Senno'Loa Dive.
Nadia didn't need to put into words how she felt. It was already written all over her face. The girl was breaking. But still she tried. Still she fought for another way.
"Nadia, stop." Vinh said, finally working up the courage. "You need to listen now. Okay? We both know what happens next. I'm going to make that jump tonight. No matter what-"
"WHY?" She shouted. So sudden was the explosiveness of her cry, that even Vinh reeled back. "Why do you have to!? Why you!?" The dam holding back what she felt was open now. Words came out whether she wanted to say them or not. "It's not fair! Vinh, it's not fair at all. There's dozens other candidates to make the jump! Why not them! Petros," Nadia singled out a name with a dangerous conviction. "It should be Petros! He's been slacking in the fieldwork as of late. He eats more than his share and he's ungrateful for it! Why not someone useless like him?"
Vinh didn't know. No one did. But it wasn't his place to ask the why's. He just knew what was expected of him.
"Don't say that, Nadia. Whether it's true or not, it's not right. Besides it doesn't matter now. We both know how things must go. I've been marked. No one can take my place. It's just... it's just the way it has to be."
"WELL I HATE IT." She screamed. Nadia bolted up from her seat and began stomping furiously around the room. She didn't care where her voice drifted to. She didn't care who heard her. In fact, there was part of her that wanted to be heard. Let the village know just how much she hated this stupid, unfair ritual. "None of this is right, Vinh! And I'm not going to sit by and watch you throw your life away! I won't let it!" Nadia was fuming now, all composure gone. Tears were rolling down her cheeks, matting her shimmering hair. She paid them no mind. She'd not let herself break down like a little kid. Not now. Not when she needed to find the strength in order to change things. And rest assured, Nadia had all the conviction in the world to do just that.
But then, she saw him. In the midst of her fiery rant, she hadn't noticed that her best friend had been sitting there, legs folded, body hunched, head in his hands. Between his long, calloused fingers, drops after teardrop fell down. She didn't catch the slow, aching sobs that wracked his body each time he squeezed in a silent breath. Nadia, too fixated on her own pain, did not see his. She did now.
Vinh's quiet tears could only stay quiet for so long. "Please..." He said, his voice trembling. Every syllable he said was strained. It took *everything* from him just to keep it together. And even still, he was failing at it. "Please, Nadia. Enough. I- just. I can't hear that stuff anymore. Don't talk about what we *can* do. Don't talk about things we *can* be." A wracking sob hit him just then, forcing him to gasp. "Don't say things like that because... because we both know that we *can't* have any of that. I can't have any of that. So please. No more. I can't take it."
In that moment of agony, Nadia knew she had done wrong. She spoke of a world full of hopes and dreams, while Vinh faced off against the burden of reality, alone. Tender, slowly, she knelt besides him, gingerly wrapping an arm around Vinh's huddled body. Her sheer touch had sent shockwaves through his body causing him to cry harder still. She said nothing, she just held him. Held him and wept.
Finally, as the tears slowly came to a stop, she asked. "Why?" Her voice hoarse.
"Because-" Vinh said, pausing as another sob had caught in his throat. "Because if I don't do this, who knows what will happen. What would happen to mother. It's just her now taking care of me and Cyan. What if- what if I ran away like you said? What would happen to them? What about your parents. Your dad's been sick, no? What if the stories came true and the harvest never came? What would happen to them then? I... I can't risk that."
She hadn't thought about that. He was right, but all this time she had only been thinking about her wants, her needs. Nadia felt small and angry just then. "But-"
"Nadia," Vinh unfurled his big, wide arms and draped them over the smaller Nadia. He engulfed her, pulled her in and then held her tight. She welcomed it. "There's nothing else to say. If you continue fighting against it, it'll only make it that much harder on me. So please. While I can keep my head up high. While I can still tell myself that I'm doing this because I *want* to, please don't take that away from me. I don't want my sister's last memory of me to be of me crying. For what it's worth, I don't want that to be yours either."
She wanted to argue. So terribly did she want to, but she didn't. Vinh had laid out the truths in his heart and had made his last wishes be known. She'd have to respect that.
"Okay."
"Okay."
Vinh pushed them apart, holding her at arms length. The two stared at one another for a time that spanned a short infinity. Every line on their face, every blemish, every mark and all the little facets that comprised their faces, they stared at. It was a little silly, it was a bit awkward, and most of all, it was entirely perfect. Then they laughed. Just like they always had.
She wanted to say something else. One more thing that sat deep inside her heart. Words that were waiting for just the right moment to come out. But she couldn't say them. Not if they were going to steal his resolve. That was going to hurt, Nadia knew. For the rest of her life she'd regret not saying it. But that was her sacrifice to make. His was to dive into the abyss.
That night, they'd both have their own cross to bear.
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I walk to the edge of the hole cautiously. The tribe stands in a circle, surrounding me, completing the age old ritual with stamping, chanting and sticks hitting the ground. They will not force me. I have been chosen, and I will willingly fulfill my role as has alway been done.
I look in. Nothingness. No sign of what has become of any previous participants, or what will become of me. I close me eyes for a moment, take in the familiar sounds of my tribe, my village, my home, then dive in head first.
I fall gracefully, like taking a perfect dive into the South Lake at the edge of our village. I see only blackness, for what seems like ages, as the sounds of my past get softer and softer. There become a small light, at what look like the bottom of the hole, getting brighter and brighter. I start hearing new noises, what sounds like a kind of animal honking, and the sound of many people.
I can see now a circle above my head, meaning at the bottom of the hole, and light coming in all around the edges. The sounds are coming from there and getting louder and louder. All at once, I reach the bottom, the force of head pushing into the circle, forcing it out of the way, and continuing the forward momentum of my body onto a rough surface.
There are so many lights surrounding me, huge machines around my head with fumes and smoke being blasted into my face and lungs. A cacophony of noise and so many strange people staring at me. I stand to my feet, wobbly, and look around. There are buildings taller than the tallest trees in our forest and a huge sign above me that says “Times Square”. What is this hole, this portal, and where has it taken me?
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[WP] There is a deep hole just outside your village. The elders pick one person to dive in every year, 'for the good of the tribe', never to be seen again. The elders have just chosen you. You're expected to jump tonight.
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(Haha i had a Dream about this once)
It was Tradition in my village, every year the chosen one would ascend, the elders would say it was to join the gods, to join the circle of world makers. I was chosen this year.
They would dress me in light garb and send me into the ascension dome. And when I got in, I would be able to command the way the earth works.
Thats not what happens however. I step into the dome, look over my shoulder to see my teary eyed dad, my sister with her boyfriend and my mom smiling and proud. I see the elders dressed in white. Hoods and masks covering their faces. I saw the sun, a distant cloud and the doors of the dome slowly sliding shut.
The dome wasn’t too large, perhaps 50 strides across. The floor, metal aperture design cool to the touch. I was told to stay in the middle, that the circular window at the top would be my path, I look up at it, it had been stained with rain and sand from Past storms. The room is perfectly symmetrical other than the door I came in from and the lines at the opposite end of the dome.
Lines? I walked over to the lines, 10 strides away I could make out that it was another door, but the type you could only open from the inside, 10 strides was all I got though. The floor dropped out from under me and I fell.
Still falling I noticed railing right in front of me, 10 strides away, I attempt to float over to the railing and my falling body rockets towards them, somehow missing the actual railing and crashing into black iron stairs.
Dazed it takes me a few minutes to regain the ability to read what the outside world is doing. I could hear the wind blowing up and out from this abyss... I could also hear something else. A groan. The flap of bare feet on the ground. The tinkle of water. It all seemed to Ecco endlessly.
I look up from where I am towards the center of the hole, I couldn’t see anything other than the metal clad wall of the hole. I got up to look over the railing I had just crashed into, but I saw nothing but darkness. I decided to continue down the stairs, looking over the railing every now and then but always seeing the gaping black nothingness. It was hours before my eyes caught the glint of something, another hour before I recognized the stream of water. Another hour before I could see what path would let me to it.
The path was of rocky cobble, it looked like the old sewer systems built long before the ever dust events, before my age waste was just, put somewhere else. That is what caused the great dust we learned. We learned the sewers would lead to a cleaning place and that the clean water would be dumped into the world lake.
I followed the sewer for a while, at this point I began to feel my stomach clench, it growled trying to tell me that food was needed. The growling didn’t come from me though, it was distant. From where I had come, distant for now.
I felt white hot fear and trying to run as quietly as possible by avoiding the water I tried to get to a spot where the light came from the sun and not from my light shard.
I didn’t see the figure I ran into but I felt it pull me to one side, i let out an involuntary Yelp which was muffled by a hand over my mouth. A door closed and a light went on.
I was looking at a gathering of past ascenders, 4 of them.
One of them, Lioness has been my best friend growing up, she had ascended when she was just 12. I’d missed her all these years, I was so happy for her when I though she had become a god however.
I went to ask a question and anther woman put her hand over my mouth and a finger to her lips. The flap of footsteps could be heard outside the door I had just been dragged in from the sewers. We waited.
Days had gone by before the thing left, I had been given food and water, no one ever said a word though, as if the slightest peep would attract the monsters.
A month later we opened the door, a woman with brown hair I remembered being called Net st the lead. She motioned is to follow and so we continued along the sewer path. Quietly avoiding the water, not daring to let the supply pack scrape on the stone walls.
We moused for Hours before I could see further than what light we had, I could see the faint outline of rocks further ahead, I could see a pinprick of light.
We reached the light and found the sun screaming into our nocturnal eyes. But Net walked on, we followed through rocks and over shrubs, we followed past trees and dusty clearings. The sun was higher in the sky now, I’m guessing we had left right at dawn.
Net took a few sides towards a greener tree and set her pack down. “Rest” i heard, and the group erupted in conversation.
-to be continued
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I walk to the edge of the hole cautiously. The tribe stands in a circle, surrounding me, completing the age old ritual with stamping, chanting and sticks hitting the ground. They will not force me. I have been chosen, and I will willingly fulfill my role as has alway been done.
I look in. Nothingness. No sign of what has become of any previous participants, or what will become of me. I close me eyes for a moment, take in the familiar sounds of my tribe, my village, my home, then dive in head first.
I fall gracefully, like taking a perfect dive into the South Lake at the edge of our village. I see only blackness, for what seems like ages, as the sounds of my past get softer and softer. There become a small light, at what look like the bottom of the hole, getting brighter and brighter. I start hearing new noises, what sounds like a kind of animal honking, and the sound of many people.
I can see now a circle above my head, meaning at the bottom of the hole, and light coming in all around the edges. The sounds are coming from there and getting louder and louder. All at once, I reach the bottom, the force of head pushing into the circle, forcing it out of the way, and continuing the forward momentum of my body onto a rough surface.
There are so many lights surrounding me, huge machines around my head with fumes and smoke being blasted into my face and lungs. A cacophony of noise and so many strange people staring at me. I stand to my feet, wobbly, and look around. There are buildings taller than the tallest trees in our forest and a huge sign above me that says “Times Square”. What is this hole, this portal, and where has it taken me?
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[WP] There is a deep hole just outside your village. The elders pick one person to dive in every year, 'for the good of the tribe', never to be seen again. The elders have just chosen you. You're expected to jump tonight.
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I watched from the tree as the head elder reached into the box pulling out a small card. He unfolded the paper, “Tai-ge Hanyu”. My face paled as he read my name, everybody in the crowd went a frenzy looking for me. I wish I burned the incense the shaman lady gave me.
My mother cried hearing the news, and my father comforted her. I felt a slight tug on my clothes, Min-ge looked up at me. “Why are they crying?” I picked up my little brother and walked into the room. My father looked up, his eyes were red. He motion for us to join them in a hug, “at least they’re paying a high amount of money...” I trailed of trying to lighten the mood, but my mother cried even more. A sudden knock on the door made my mother hold onto me. She gripped my clothes almost tearing them, “don’t leave me”, she choked out before sobbing even more.
I opened the door, a soldier stood outside, “we are starting the beautification process.” My parents screamed in protest as the soldier grabbed my and and yanked Min-ge out of my arms. The soldier pushed me into a carriage and locked me inside. I heard the horses neigh, the carriage started moving.
The carriage halted and a I heard a few murmurs. Finally, they opened the door. There were many trees around the the carriage. One of the soldiers tied my hands and blindfolded me. They proceeded to walk somewhere. I saw some light through the fabric of the blindfold and heard many female voices. “Ms. Hanyu, we will be preparing you tonight.”
The ladies stripped me and bathed me in rose water. They washed my hair with the finest quality of shampoo and added multiple expensive oils. They dressed me in a white flowing hanfu with gold trim. I protested as they tried to put makeup on me, “Ms. Hanyu, this is for your own good.” They brushed on red makeup all over my face and placed numerous ornaments in my hair. I looked like a princess.
I stepped onto the plank leading into the hole, the whole tribe gathered around. My mother cried into my father’s arm and my brother looked at me longingly. I sighed, the elders clipped a white cloth blocking my face and chained a concrete block on my foot. They chanted a ritual and pushed me into the waters. I couldn’t breathe, my lungs burned as it filled with water. Which corpse will I lay next to?
I jerked up from the darkness and opened my eyes, where was I? The interior of the room looked like it belonged in a royal palace. I got up and peered opened the curtains more, I gasped. There was water everywhere and I was somehow breathing? “Water bride, you have seem to waken.” I flipped my head in surprise, outside on my doorway stood a man with platinum blond hair. I nodded slowly and he walked away.
I was led to the washroom by the palace maids, and once again I was stripped and washed. I’ve never felt so clean. They dressed my up in a baby blue flowing hanfu with silver trim and dragon embroidery. The man from before lead me to the throne room. There, I saw the most beautiful person ever.
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So I say my goodbyes, and they lead me to the hole. They count down. Three... two... one........
I jump
I keep falling for about 10 seconds before I fall asleep. I’m my dream I’m in a white room. I see the past sacrifices and they all come up to see who this years jumper is. They proceed to tell me that when I wake up, I will be in a completely new village. It will be like a new life, but once a year, I will have a lucid dream where I come to this white room, to tell the next jumper this same speech.
I open my eyes
I’m in a bed, and I’m in a different village. I get up, and walk around. I meet everyone, and they greet me happily. It’s been nearly a year and I keep thinking about my family. A couple days later, I have the lucid dream. The next jumper is my little brother. We tell him what’s going to happen, then he disappears. I wake up, and start balling. Everyone asks me what’s wrong, but I just say it’s a bad dream. This happens every year now, and it’s the highlight/worst part of my year at the same time.
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[WP] There is a deep hole just outside your village. The elders pick one person to dive in every year, 'for the good of the tribe', never to be seen again. The elders have just chosen you. You're expected to jump tonight.
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The knock comes at dawn. I am barely awake, but somewhere in my mind, the fear creeps in. Nobody knocks on another's door this early. Something is wrong.
I grab my axe and move towards the door, legs bent, toes curled. I have spent many years learning to be quiet; I am the best hunter in the realm, and I worked hard to keep it that way. Worked hard to make sure I would never be the one.
I approach the door, and the knock comes again. A murmur from outside--a voice. Deep, gravelly. An elder? I lower my axe, but cannot calm myself. Only once before did I recall an elder summoning one of us this early. That day was the last I would see of my father.
My heart beats like rain on my roof in the cold months. I think about running, about taking my axe and all the food I can carry and never returning. But beyond the walls of our realm madness awaits. This I have seen with my own eyes.
Perhaps, I muse, this is why I do not fear it. And why the pit within our walls makes me cold to the bone. The Madness you know scares less than the one you don't.
Slowly, stiffly, I open the door. The Elders are there, the nine men and women to whom I devoted myself for twenty long years.
"Hello, Haldr," they say, their voices tinny from behind the animal skull masks. "It is time. You are chosen."
Clouds have gathered when I am escorted to the pit. The elders have given me a full escort of warriors from the raiding party. They know my skills, my strength; they were wise to bring them. Every bone in my body wants to fight, to survive. But the values I have distilled into myself from a lifetime of hunting and fighting to protect this place do not allow those impulses to linger. Even if it means my doom, I shall not betray them.
They bring me to the edge and step back. The elders walk forward and begin to paint me in the ceremonial colors--red of blood, blue of sky, green of water. They speak words of a long-dead language.
I stare at Elder Frej, her blue eyes still appearing kind beneath the decorated skull of a deer. Or perhaps that is just my wishful thinking. She applies green markings to my neck, and I lean closer.
"Frej, please. I have given everything to our band, to our way. Why have I been chosen? Why do you wish my death?"
Frej glances at the others, then whispers back, as if telling me a secret. "Hold fast, Haldr. It is not as you think. You will understand soon."
My mind races. The ceremony passes in a blur of faces I will never see again. The elders speak more of the old language. And then it is time.
"Jager Haldr, you are chosen. The bridge is yours to traverse."
I look down into the blackness. It is raining now, and mud slipslides down the sides of the pit.
Frej's words resonate within me, and a thought occurs to me. The hope she wished to bring me--it is false, I know. But, standing upon the sword's edge between death and life, I realize it's falsehood does not matter. It is still hope. It is better than none.
I step off the edge.
The wind whistles around me and I fall like a spear. My arms I keep crossed around my chest. The light disappears from above and suddenly I land--no, dive--into mud, no doubt accumulated from above.
I am engulfed by it. I kick towards the surface, but I cannot find it. There is a current, like some unholy river, and it is pulling me down. I cannot see. My head breaches above the tides every few moments, and I take what breath I can, but my body seems to weaken. I taste earth and the earth consumes me.
Time passes, I know not how much. My hand brushes something--something not mud. I clench it. It sticks. My grip on it stays. I can breathe. I realize my eyes are closed.
I blink away mud. I am staring into a sky of grey clouds. The rain begins to wash away the grime, and I sit up, slowly, and breathe in the humid air.
The men I notice first. They wear strange suits of dark leather and fabric, and hold rods of jagged black metal, adorned with glass. The rods are pointed at me. They have no points, but I know they are weapons. The men stand with purpose, feet apart and eyes fixed upon me. They watch with palpable tension when I stand, wary of me, but not attacking. It is then that I see the rest of them.
People in a garb I do not recognize, holding canopies on sticks above their heads--to protect from rain? The question lingers, then fades, when I examine the things behind them. Squared off sculptures of metal and glass, towering into the sky--no, not sculptures. Structures. People move within them, all their gazes trained towards me, standing bare of foot in a field of wet grass.
A woman approaches me. She is clean, more than anyone I've ever seen. She smiles.
"I know you're scared, Haldr," she says. "But I promise you this: you don't have to be scared any more." I want to protest, to ask her how she knows my name, where I am--am I dead? But then I look behind the woman, and like the falseness of the hope, those things cease to matter.
A man stands behind the woman, wearing the same odd clothing, carrying one of the canopies. He is crying, but there is a smile on his face. His hair his a pale grey now, and his beard much longer, but he is my father. He drops his canopy and runs to me, holding me tight within his arms.
I am home.
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So I say my goodbyes, and they lead me to the hole. They count down. Three... two... one........
I jump
I keep falling for about 10 seconds before I fall asleep. I’m my dream I’m in a white room. I see the past sacrifices and they all come up to see who this years jumper is. They proceed to tell me that when I wake up, I will be in a completely new village. It will be like a new life, but once a year, I will have a lucid dream where I come to this white room, to tell the next jumper this same speech.
I open my eyes
I’m in a bed, and I’m in a different village. I get up, and walk around. I meet everyone, and they greet me happily. It’s been nearly a year and I keep thinking about my family. A couple days later, I have the lucid dream. The next jumper is my little brother. We tell him what’s going to happen, then he disappears. I wake up, and start balling. Everyone asks me what’s wrong, but I just say it’s a bad dream. This happens every year now, and it’s the highlight/worst part of my year at the same time.
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[WP] There is a deep hole just outside your village. The elders pick one person to dive in every year, 'for the good of the tribe', never to be seen again. The elders have just chosen you. You're expected to jump tonight.
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‘Kai!’ the shrill voice of the Priestess resonated through the pavilion, causing every head to turn towards me. It was the first time a beautiful woman called my name and I was anything less than ecstatic. The ‘Appointment’ had been apart of my village’s traditions since before I was born. It’s very simple, you see? Random people pick someone to throw into a seemingly endless pit.
Now, if those people are serfs, this is a crime but if they have steel and gold, they’re elders doing the work of the gods.
I hated its formality. This wasn’t a celebration; it was a death sentence yet the elders had us all gathered there waiting for the Priestess to call out a name. I would prefer them to just take you out of your sleep and just throw you at once. No need to torture us with the grandeur of it all.
The birds had stopped chirping, the wind became sharp against my skin and my heartbeat slowed down*.*
*boom, boom.*
My feet felt like lead in sand water as I made the walk towards the Priestess. I looked in the faces of my fellow villagers, all different ages and sizes. For some, this was their first ‘*Appointment’* and their excitement couldn’t be contained. Others were indifferent, even irritated at the length of this ritual though no one voiced that opinion. The elders would have their tongue.
None of the villagers made eye contact with me. It was bad luck to into the eyes of a ‘Jumper’. According to the elders, their gaze brings death to your doorstep. Superstitions were never my thing and now, I was going to die because of one. Poetic injustice.
However, it seemed one villager didn’t heed the warning. He was the local drunk, a man who was known for his erratic rants and proneness to piss in public. We locked eyes and I saw something that took me off guard: pity. The same man who was known to beg for a few coins to aid his habits was offering his silent condolences. It was the only one I received.
I knelt before the Priestess as she spoke her incantation, the words forming a noose around my neck, the air out of my lungs. If I had to kneel there for an eternity and beyond to avoid the ‘Hole’, I’d do it and when she stopped, I didn’t have to strength to get back up. The elders hoisted me up to my feet and marched me up to the’ Hole’, a well that looked like it was made for the giants.
They threw me to the floor and collectively stepped back. That was the part I always found interesting.
They believed the sacrifice is ruined without the free will of the victim so the elders would never force someone to jump. However, if you didn’t do so on your own accord, you’d be exiled to farthest ends of the woods, beyond the help of even the spirits. I laid in the wet mud as I reminisced on all of the ‘Appointments’ I’ve witnessed. Men, women and children, even infants and cripples. They all screamed. All of their last words were incoherent wastes of good breath. I wouldn’t make the same mistake. I stood up, slowly but surely. I stared into the faces of the elders with a ferocity that they would remember for the remainder of their days. I looked at the stars, the bright moon which was looking brighter than ever. Perhaps the spirits were watching. I cursed. At the villagers for allowing the outright murder of their families without an uproar. At the elders for upholding this barbaric practice, and the corrupt gods they claim to serve. I was met with an eerie silence, almost if my words were foreign. Then the chants began.
The elders face contorted in anger and led a vocal crusade against me, one that was so loud, I’m sure all the wildlife awoke to it. I stepped up on the edge of the ‘Hole’ and glanced at the seemingly endless darkness. The screams behind me got louder and more demented. A fitting send-off, if I do say so myself. I turned back to the crowd one last time and found the drunk front and center of the pandemonium. He was smiling with his crooked and bent teeth. I returned one back at him, with equal enthusiasm. I jumped into the unknown as the birds resumed their chirping and the sharp wind tore away my flesh.
|
So I say my goodbyes, and they lead me to the hole. They count down. Three... two... one........
I jump
I keep falling for about 10 seconds before I fall asleep. I’m my dream I’m in a white room. I see the past sacrifices and they all come up to see who this years jumper is. They proceed to tell me that when I wake up, I will be in a completely new village. It will be like a new life, but once a year, I will have a lucid dream where I come to this white room, to tell the next jumper this same speech.
I open my eyes
I’m in a bed, and I’m in a different village. I get up, and walk around. I meet everyone, and they greet me happily. It’s been nearly a year and I keep thinking about my family. A couple days later, I have the lucid dream. The next jumper is my little brother. We tell him what’s going to happen, then he disappears. I wake up, and start balling. Everyone asks me what’s wrong, but I just say it’s a bad dream. This happens every year now, and it’s the highlight/worst part of my year at the same time.
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[WP] There is a deep hole just outside your village. The elders pick one person to dive in every year, 'for the good of the tribe', never to be seen again. The elders have just chosen you. You're expected to jump tonight.
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"Don't do it Vinh," Nadia pleaded. She stared at her best friend she'd known since childhood, begging him to change his mind. "You don't have to do this. We can go. Right now. I'll grab whatever I can, throw it in my pack while you grab your things."
As Nadia spoke, her sunburnt skin gleaming from torchlight nearby, Vinh chose silence. Just as it always had been between them. When Nadia talked, Vinh was quick to listen. She was, after all, the smartest person he knew. Smarter than some of the elders even. Clever and tricky, a dangerous mix. But right now, she was neither of those things. Right now, Nadia was desperate.
"We'll take just enough food to last us for a week. If we're lucky we can make it to the harbor master at Senno'Loa docks before harvest week begins. We can take a boat to the main land and from there we'll disappear!" The more she spoke, the more she began convincing herself.
"Nadia-" Vinh said, his voice barely above a whisper. She paid him no mind. Instead, she continued spelling out her grand design.
"We'll make it on the main land. From there, we can hike across the Verdant Hills. My Uncle told me about them once, he said they were beautiful! Like an endless sea but made of grass instead of water. You'll love it, Vinh. You've always loved the simple things."
"Nadia." Vinh tried again, trying to draw her back from wherever her imagination took her. This time his voice was a bit more firm yet still she ignored him.
"Then, once we get past the hills, we can try our luck at the *city*. I've heard about it in stories. They say people there travel on mechanical contraptions! Great big old things, made of metal and with wheels at the bottom, carrying the passenger wherever they want. How crazy does that sound!? Mainlanders..." Nadia shook her head giving a judgmental click of her tongue. "The things they come up with. It's so, well, ridiculous! Don't you want to see what other crazy inventions they've come up with?"
Vinh, despite knowing better, nodded. He'd play along for now knowing it would make her happy. "Crazy mainlanders." He muttered, just like he always had. Nadia beamed at that.
"We can find work. Me and you, Vinh. We'll tend to the fields. I doubt those lazy city-dwellers know what hard work really looks like. You can even show them how a proper hunt should be while I till and harvest the crops. Trust me, we'll find a place there. We can make it!"
This was it, the only play available to the two of them. At least it's what she clearly believed. Her hazel brown eyes, vibrant of color, teeming with such life, gave way to the true words hidden in her heart. She was terrified of what was to come. Fear was blinding her, Vinh knew. She was allowing herself to subscribe to thoughts that would only make things harder in the end. Because no matter what sort of fantasy scenario she whipped up in her head, Vinh knew it wouldn't come. They couldn't have what she wanted. For that matter. They couldn't have what he wanted.
Because Vinh was a marked one.
Every year, a Scared ritual was held on the island of Senno'Loa. They called it, the Senno'Loa dive. There, in the heart of the village, a seemingly endless hole known as the *Gaping Maw* stood waiting. No one knew what it was exactly. None knew how deep the hole went. There were no answers here, only questions. Simply put, it just was. But there was more to it than just a silly hole. This was where the Sacred Ritual took place. A ritual where one tribesmen was chosen to jump in all in order to appease the elder god Sennok.
Legend had it that Sennok was a bountiful deity who bestowed an endless bounty upon the island. However, Sennok was a demanding god as well. In order for his gift to be given, a sacrifice need be made. The marked ones, they'd been called, chosen tribesmen who were deigned worthy by some invisible hand, were charged with jumping into the Gaping Maw. They'd never be seen again, but without fail, there sacrifice would ensure another years harvest.
And right now, Nadia was being forced to watch her dearest friend, the one true friend she could confide into, the one she had secretly given away her heart to, be forced to make the Senno'Loa Dive.
Nadia didn't need to put into words how she felt. It was already written all over her face. The girl was breaking. But still she tried. Still she fought for another way.
"Nadia, stop." Vinh said, finally working up the courage. "You need to listen now. Okay? We both know what happens next. I'm going to make that jump tonight. No matter what-"
"WHY?" She shouted. So sudden was the explosiveness of her cry, that even Vinh reeled back. "Why do you have to!? Why you!?" The dam holding back what she felt was open now. Words came out whether she wanted to say them or not. "It's not fair! Vinh, it's not fair at all. There's dozens other candidates to make the jump! Why not them! Petros," Nadia singled out a name with a dangerous conviction. "It should be Petros! He's been slacking in the fieldwork as of late. He eats more than his share and he's ungrateful for it! Why not someone useless like him?"
Vinh didn't know. No one did. But it wasn't his place to ask the why's. He just knew what was expected of him.
"Don't say that, Nadia. Whether it's true or not, it's not right. Besides it doesn't matter now. We both know how things must go. I've been marked. No one can take my place. It's just... it's just the way it has to be."
"WELL I HATE IT." She screamed. Nadia bolted up from her seat and began stomping furiously around the room. She didn't care where her voice drifted to. She didn't care who heard her. In fact, there was part of her that wanted to be heard. Let the village know just how much she hated this stupid, unfair ritual. "None of this is right, Vinh! And I'm not going to sit by and watch you throw your life away! I won't let it!" Nadia was fuming now, all composure gone. Tears were rolling down her cheeks, matting her shimmering hair. She paid them no mind. She'd not let herself break down like a little kid. Not now. Not when she needed to find the strength in order to change things. And rest assured, Nadia had all the conviction in the world to do just that.
But then, she saw him. In the midst of her fiery rant, she hadn't noticed that her best friend had been sitting there, legs folded, body hunched, head in his hands. Between his long, calloused fingers, drops after teardrop fell down. She didn't catch the slow, aching sobs that wracked his body each time he squeezed in a silent breath. Nadia, too fixated on her own pain, did not see his. She did now.
Vinh's quiet tears could only stay quiet for so long. "Please..." He said, his voice trembling. Every syllable he said was strained. It took *everything* from him just to keep it together. And even still, he was failing at it. "Please, Nadia. Enough. I- just. I can't hear that stuff anymore. Don't talk about what we *can* do. Don't talk about things we *can* be." A wracking sob hit him just then, forcing him to gasp. "Don't say things like that because... because we both know that we *can't* have any of that. I can't have any of that. So please. No more. I can't take it."
In that moment of agony, Nadia knew she had done wrong. She spoke of a world full of hopes and dreams, while Vinh faced off against the burden of reality, alone. Tender, slowly, she knelt besides him, gingerly wrapping an arm around Vinh's huddled body. Her sheer touch had sent shockwaves through his body causing him to cry harder still. She said nothing, she just held him. Held him and wept.
Finally, as the tears slowly came to a stop, she asked. "Why?" Her voice hoarse.
"Because-" Vinh said, pausing as another sob had caught in his throat. "Because if I don't do this, who knows what will happen. What would happen to mother. It's just her now taking care of me and Cyan. What if- what if I ran away like you said? What would happen to them? What about your parents. Your dad's been sick, no? What if the stories came true and the harvest never came? What would happen to them then? I... I can't risk that."
She hadn't thought about that. He was right, but all this time she had only been thinking about her wants, her needs. Nadia felt small and angry just then. "But-"
"Nadia," Vinh unfurled his big, wide arms and draped them over the smaller Nadia. He engulfed her, pulled her in and then held her tight. She welcomed it. "There's nothing else to say. If you continue fighting against it, it'll only make it that much harder on me. So please. While I can keep my head up high. While I can still tell myself that I'm doing this because I *want* to, please don't take that away from me. I don't want my sister's last memory of me to be of me crying. For what it's worth, I don't want that to be yours either."
She wanted to argue. So terribly did she want to, but she didn't. Vinh had laid out the truths in his heart and had made his last wishes be known. She'd have to respect that.
"Okay."
"Okay."
Vinh pushed them apart, holding her at arms length. The two stared at one another for a time that spanned a short infinity. Every line on their face, every blemish, every mark and all the little facets that comprised their faces, they stared at. It was a little silly, it was a bit awkward, and most of all, it was entirely perfect. Then they laughed. Just like they always had.
She wanted to say something else. One more thing that sat deep inside her heart. Words that were waiting for just the right moment to come out. But she couldn't say them. Not if they were going to steal his resolve. That was going to hurt, Nadia knew. For the rest of her life she'd regret not saying it. But that was her sacrifice to make. His was to dive into the abyss.
That night, they'd both have their own cross to bear.
|
So I say my goodbyes, and they lead me to the hole. They count down. Three... two... one........
I jump
I keep falling for about 10 seconds before I fall asleep. I’m my dream I’m in a white room. I see the past sacrifices and they all come up to see who this years jumper is. They proceed to tell me that when I wake up, I will be in a completely new village. It will be like a new life, but once a year, I will have a lucid dream where I come to this white room, to tell the next jumper this same speech.
I open my eyes
I’m in a bed, and I’m in a different village. I get up, and walk around. I meet everyone, and they greet me happily. It’s been nearly a year and I keep thinking about my family. A couple days later, I have the lucid dream. The next jumper is my little brother. We tell him what’s going to happen, then he disappears. I wake up, and start balling. Everyone asks me what’s wrong, but I just say it’s a bad dream. This happens every year now, and it’s the highlight/worst part of my year at the same time.
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[WP] There is a deep hole just outside your village. The elders pick one person to dive in every year, 'for the good of the tribe', never to be seen again. The elders have just chosen you. You're expected to jump tonight.
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(Haha i had a Dream about this once)
It was Tradition in my village, every year the chosen one would ascend, the elders would say it was to join the gods, to join the circle of world makers. I was chosen this year.
They would dress me in light garb and send me into the ascension dome. And when I got in, I would be able to command the way the earth works.
Thats not what happens however. I step into the dome, look over my shoulder to see my teary eyed dad, my sister with her boyfriend and my mom smiling and proud. I see the elders dressed in white. Hoods and masks covering their faces. I saw the sun, a distant cloud and the doors of the dome slowly sliding shut.
The dome wasn’t too large, perhaps 50 strides across. The floor, metal aperture design cool to the touch. I was told to stay in the middle, that the circular window at the top would be my path, I look up at it, it had been stained with rain and sand from Past storms. The room is perfectly symmetrical other than the door I came in from and the lines at the opposite end of the dome.
Lines? I walked over to the lines, 10 strides away I could make out that it was another door, but the type you could only open from the inside, 10 strides was all I got though. The floor dropped out from under me and I fell.
Still falling I noticed railing right in front of me, 10 strides away, I attempt to float over to the railing and my falling body rockets towards them, somehow missing the actual railing and crashing into black iron stairs.
Dazed it takes me a few minutes to regain the ability to read what the outside world is doing. I could hear the wind blowing up and out from this abyss... I could also hear something else. A groan. The flap of bare feet on the ground. The tinkle of water. It all seemed to Ecco endlessly.
I look up from where I am towards the center of the hole, I couldn’t see anything other than the metal clad wall of the hole. I got up to look over the railing I had just crashed into, but I saw nothing but darkness. I decided to continue down the stairs, looking over the railing every now and then but always seeing the gaping black nothingness. It was hours before my eyes caught the glint of something, another hour before I recognized the stream of water. Another hour before I could see what path would let me to it.
The path was of rocky cobble, it looked like the old sewer systems built long before the ever dust events, before my age waste was just, put somewhere else. That is what caused the great dust we learned. We learned the sewers would lead to a cleaning place and that the clean water would be dumped into the world lake.
I followed the sewer for a while, at this point I began to feel my stomach clench, it growled trying to tell me that food was needed. The growling didn’t come from me though, it was distant. From where I had come, distant for now.
I felt white hot fear and trying to run as quietly as possible by avoiding the water I tried to get to a spot where the light came from the sun and not from my light shard.
I didn’t see the figure I ran into but I felt it pull me to one side, i let out an involuntary Yelp which was muffled by a hand over my mouth. A door closed and a light went on.
I was looking at a gathering of past ascenders, 4 of them.
One of them, Lioness has been my best friend growing up, she had ascended when she was just 12. I’d missed her all these years, I was so happy for her when I though she had become a god however.
I went to ask a question and anther woman put her hand over my mouth and a finger to her lips. The flap of footsteps could be heard outside the door I had just been dragged in from the sewers. We waited.
Days had gone by before the thing left, I had been given food and water, no one ever said a word though, as if the slightest peep would attract the monsters.
A month later we opened the door, a woman with brown hair I remembered being called Net st the lead. She motioned is to follow and so we continued along the sewer path. Quietly avoiding the water, not daring to let the supply pack scrape on the stone walls.
We moused for Hours before I could see further than what light we had, I could see the faint outline of rocks further ahead, I could see a pinprick of light.
We reached the light and found the sun screaming into our nocturnal eyes. But Net walked on, we followed through rocks and over shrubs, we followed past trees and dusty clearings. The sun was higher in the sky now, I’m guessing we had left right at dawn.
Net took a few sides towards a greener tree and set her pack down. “Rest” i heard, and the group erupted in conversation.
-to be continued
|
So I say my goodbyes, and they lead me to the hole. They count down. Three... two... one........
I jump
I keep falling for about 10 seconds before I fall asleep. I’m my dream I’m in a white room. I see the past sacrifices and they all come up to see who this years jumper is. They proceed to tell me that when I wake up, I will be in a completely new village. It will be like a new life, but once a year, I will have a lucid dream where I come to this white room, to tell the next jumper this same speech.
I open my eyes
I’m in a bed, and I’m in a different village. I get up, and walk around. I meet everyone, and they greet me happily. It’s been nearly a year and I keep thinking about my family. A couple days later, I have the lucid dream. The next jumper is my little brother. We tell him what’s going to happen, then he disappears. I wake up, and start balling. Everyone asks me what’s wrong, but I just say it’s a bad dream. This happens every year now, and it’s the highlight/worst part of my year at the same time.
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[WP] There is a deep hole just outside your village. The elders pick one person to dive in every year, 'for the good of the tribe', never to be seen again. The elders have just chosen you. You're expected to jump tonight.
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‘Kai!’ the shrill voice of the Priestess resonated through the pavilion, causing every head to turn towards me. It was the first time a beautiful woman called my name and I was anything less than ecstatic. The ‘Appointment’ had been apart of my village’s traditions since before I was born. It’s very simple, you see? Random people pick someone to throw into a seemingly endless pit.
Now, if those people are serfs, this is a crime but if they have steel and gold, they’re elders doing the work of the gods.
I hated its formality. This wasn’t a celebration; it was a death sentence yet the elders had us all gathered there waiting for the Priestess to call out a name. I would prefer them to just take you out of your sleep and just throw you at once. No need to torture us with the grandeur of it all.
The birds had stopped chirping, the wind became sharp against my skin and my heartbeat slowed down*.*
*boom, boom.*
My feet felt like lead in sand water as I made the walk towards the Priestess. I looked in the faces of my fellow villagers, all different ages and sizes. For some, this was their first ‘*Appointment’* and their excitement couldn’t be contained. Others were indifferent, even irritated at the length of this ritual though no one voiced that opinion. The elders would have their tongue.
None of the villagers made eye contact with me. It was bad luck to into the eyes of a ‘Jumper’. According to the elders, their gaze brings death to your doorstep. Superstitions were never my thing and now, I was going to die because of one. Poetic injustice.
However, it seemed one villager didn’t heed the warning. He was the local drunk, a man who was known for his erratic rants and proneness to piss in public. We locked eyes and I saw something that took me off guard: pity. The same man who was known to beg for a few coins to aid his habits was offering his silent condolences. It was the only one I received.
I knelt before the Priestess as she spoke her incantation, the words forming a noose around my neck, the air out of my lungs. If I had to kneel there for an eternity and beyond to avoid the ‘Hole’, I’d do it and when she stopped, I didn’t have to strength to get back up. The elders hoisted me up to my feet and marched me up to the’ Hole’, a well that looked like it was made for the giants.
They threw me to the floor and collectively stepped back. That was the part I always found interesting.
They believed the sacrifice is ruined without the free will of the victim so the elders would never force someone to jump. However, if you didn’t do so on your own accord, you’d be exiled to farthest ends of the woods, beyond the help of even the spirits. I laid in the wet mud as I reminisced on all of the ‘Appointments’ I’ve witnessed. Men, women and children, even infants and cripples. They all screamed. All of their last words were incoherent wastes of good breath. I wouldn’t make the same mistake. I stood up, slowly but surely. I stared into the faces of the elders with a ferocity that they would remember for the remainder of their days. I looked at the stars, the bright moon which was looking brighter than ever. Perhaps the spirits were watching. I cursed. At the villagers for allowing the outright murder of their families without an uproar. At the elders for upholding this barbaric practice, and the corrupt gods they claim to serve. I was met with an eerie silence, almost if my words were foreign. Then the chants began.
The elders face contorted in anger and led a vocal crusade against me, one that was so loud, I’m sure all the wildlife awoke to it. I stepped up on the edge of the ‘Hole’ and glanced at the seemingly endless darkness. The screams behind me got louder and more demented. A fitting send-off, if I do say so myself. I turned back to the crowd one last time and found the drunk front and center of the pandemonium. He was smiling with his crooked and bent teeth. I returned one back at him, with equal enthusiasm. I jumped into the unknown as the birds resumed their chirping and the sharp wind tore away my flesh.
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You jump in, hoping that it will be a fast and painless death. You keep falling and falling and falling and falling and falling, you reach the bottom. To your surprise, the ground feels soft like a bed, you open your eyes and see that you landed on a bunch of soft things that completely cover the floor. You're in an actual room covered with pillows, plushies, cushions, blankets and more soft things. You get an urge to see what's at the bottom of this soft layer, so you dig, at the bottom of the pile is a mattress! You're in a room made of bed! Suddenly, a door that you didn't notice opens. You can't believe who it is, it's Jack! Your bestfriend that went into the hole last year! You run up to him, crying, you ask him all the questions that came into your head since you landed. He tells you to calm down and to follow him,you do. He leads down a hall into what you can only assume is a lounge room, it is filled with with people that went into the hole before you, they're all smiling sweetly towards you. Jack gestures you towards a chair, you sit in it. An old man gets up from his chair and comes closer to you. He explains that everyone that went into this hole lives here, he also mentiones a staircase that leads outside where people go to get food and other things. You understand that now you are in no danger and that you will live here from now on. Years pass and you welcomed many people into this place you and your companions call home A few more years go by and everyone had moved out of the hole and made a city outside of the staircase that lead out of the hole, you are leading the perfect life and people still go into the hole to welcome new people into this city.
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[WP] There is a deep hole just outside your village. The elders pick one person to dive in every year, 'for the good of the tribe', never to be seen again. The elders have just chosen you. You're expected to jump tonight.
|
(Haha i had a Dream about this once)
It was Tradition in my village, every year the chosen one would ascend, the elders would say it was to join the gods, to join the circle of world makers. I was chosen this year.
They would dress me in light garb and send me into the ascension dome. And when I got in, I would be able to command the way the earth works.
Thats not what happens however. I step into the dome, look over my shoulder to see my teary eyed dad, my sister with her boyfriend and my mom smiling and proud. I see the elders dressed in white. Hoods and masks covering their faces. I saw the sun, a distant cloud and the doors of the dome slowly sliding shut.
The dome wasn’t too large, perhaps 50 strides across. The floor, metal aperture design cool to the touch. I was told to stay in the middle, that the circular window at the top would be my path, I look up at it, it had been stained with rain and sand from Past storms. The room is perfectly symmetrical other than the door I came in from and the lines at the opposite end of the dome.
Lines? I walked over to the lines, 10 strides away I could make out that it was another door, but the type you could only open from the inside, 10 strides was all I got though. The floor dropped out from under me and I fell.
Still falling I noticed railing right in front of me, 10 strides away, I attempt to float over to the railing and my falling body rockets towards them, somehow missing the actual railing and crashing into black iron stairs.
Dazed it takes me a few minutes to regain the ability to read what the outside world is doing. I could hear the wind blowing up and out from this abyss... I could also hear something else. A groan. The flap of bare feet on the ground. The tinkle of water. It all seemed to Ecco endlessly.
I look up from where I am towards the center of the hole, I couldn’t see anything other than the metal clad wall of the hole. I got up to look over the railing I had just crashed into, but I saw nothing but darkness. I decided to continue down the stairs, looking over the railing every now and then but always seeing the gaping black nothingness. It was hours before my eyes caught the glint of something, another hour before I recognized the stream of water. Another hour before I could see what path would let me to it.
The path was of rocky cobble, it looked like the old sewer systems built long before the ever dust events, before my age waste was just, put somewhere else. That is what caused the great dust we learned. We learned the sewers would lead to a cleaning place and that the clean water would be dumped into the world lake.
I followed the sewer for a while, at this point I began to feel my stomach clench, it growled trying to tell me that food was needed. The growling didn’t come from me though, it was distant. From where I had come, distant for now.
I felt white hot fear and trying to run as quietly as possible by avoiding the water I tried to get to a spot where the light came from the sun and not from my light shard.
I didn’t see the figure I ran into but I felt it pull me to one side, i let out an involuntary Yelp which was muffled by a hand over my mouth. A door closed and a light went on.
I was looking at a gathering of past ascenders, 4 of them.
One of them, Lioness has been my best friend growing up, she had ascended when she was just 12. I’d missed her all these years, I was so happy for her when I though she had become a god however.
I went to ask a question and anther woman put her hand over my mouth and a finger to her lips. The flap of footsteps could be heard outside the door I had just been dragged in from the sewers. We waited.
Days had gone by before the thing left, I had been given food and water, no one ever said a word though, as if the slightest peep would attract the monsters.
A month later we opened the door, a woman with brown hair I remembered being called Net st the lead. She motioned is to follow and so we continued along the sewer path. Quietly avoiding the water, not daring to let the supply pack scrape on the stone walls.
We moused for Hours before I could see further than what light we had, I could see the faint outline of rocks further ahead, I could see a pinprick of light.
We reached the light and found the sun screaming into our nocturnal eyes. But Net walked on, we followed through rocks and over shrubs, we followed past trees and dusty clearings. The sun was higher in the sky now, I’m guessing we had left right at dawn.
Net took a few sides towards a greener tree and set her pack down. “Rest” i heard, and the group erupted in conversation.
-to be continued
|
"Don't do it Vinh," Nadia pleaded. She stared at her best friend she'd known since childhood, begging him to change his mind. "You don't have to do this. We can go. Right now. I'll grab whatever I can, throw it in my pack while you grab your things."
As Nadia spoke, her sunburnt skin gleaming from torchlight nearby, Vinh chose silence. Just as it always had been between them. When Nadia talked, Vinh was quick to listen. She was, after all, the smartest person he knew. Smarter than some of the elders even. Clever and tricky, a dangerous mix. But right now, she was neither of those things. Right now, Nadia was desperate.
"We'll take just enough food to last us for a week. If we're lucky we can make it to the harbor master at Senno'Loa docks before harvest week begins. We can take a boat to the main land and from there we'll disappear!" The more she spoke, the more she began convincing herself.
"Nadia-" Vinh said, his voice barely above a whisper. She paid him no mind. Instead, she continued spelling out her grand design.
"We'll make it on the main land. From there, we can hike across the Verdant Hills. My Uncle told me about them once, he said they were beautiful! Like an endless sea but made of grass instead of water. You'll love it, Vinh. You've always loved the simple things."
"Nadia." Vinh tried again, trying to draw her back from wherever her imagination took her. This time his voice was a bit more firm yet still she ignored him.
"Then, once we get past the hills, we can try our luck at the *city*. I've heard about it in stories. They say people there travel on mechanical contraptions! Great big old things, made of metal and with wheels at the bottom, carrying the passenger wherever they want. How crazy does that sound!? Mainlanders..." Nadia shook her head giving a judgmental click of her tongue. "The things they come up with. It's so, well, ridiculous! Don't you want to see what other crazy inventions they've come up with?"
Vinh, despite knowing better, nodded. He'd play along for now knowing it would make her happy. "Crazy mainlanders." He muttered, just like he always had. Nadia beamed at that.
"We can find work. Me and you, Vinh. We'll tend to the fields. I doubt those lazy city-dwellers know what hard work really looks like. You can even show them how a proper hunt should be while I till and harvest the crops. Trust me, we'll find a place there. We can make it!"
This was it, the only play available to the two of them. At least it's what she clearly believed. Her hazel brown eyes, vibrant of color, teeming with such life, gave way to the true words hidden in her heart. She was terrified of what was to come. Fear was blinding her, Vinh knew. She was allowing herself to subscribe to thoughts that would only make things harder in the end. Because no matter what sort of fantasy scenario she whipped up in her head, Vinh knew it wouldn't come. They couldn't have what she wanted. For that matter. They couldn't have what he wanted.
Because Vinh was a marked one.
Every year, a Scared ritual was held on the island of Senno'Loa. They called it, the Senno'Loa dive. There, in the heart of the village, a seemingly endless hole known as the *Gaping Maw* stood waiting. No one knew what it was exactly. None knew how deep the hole went. There were no answers here, only questions. Simply put, it just was. But there was more to it than just a silly hole. This was where the Sacred Ritual took place. A ritual where one tribesmen was chosen to jump in all in order to appease the elder god Sennok.
Legend had it that Sennok was a bountiful deity who bestowed an endless bounty upon the island. However, Sennok was a demanding god as well. In order for his gift to be given, a sacrifice need be made. The marked ones, they'd been called, chosen tribesmen who were deigned worthy by some invisible hand, were charged with jumping into the Gaping Maw. They'd never be seen again, but without fail, there sacrifice would ensure another years harvest.
And right now, Nadia was being forced to watch her dearest friend, the one true friend she could confide into, the one she had secretly given away her heart to, be forced to make the Senno'Loa Dive.
Nadia didn't need to put into words how she felt. It was already written all over her face. The girl was breaking. But still she tried. Still she fought for another way.
"Nadia, stop." Vinh said, finally working up the courage. "You need to listen now. Okay? We both know what happens next. I'm going to make that jump tonight. No matter what-"
"WHY?" She shouted. So sudden was the explosiveness of her cry, that even Vinh reeled back. "Why do you have to!? Why you!?" The dam holding back what she felt was open now. Words came out whether she wanted to say them or not. "It's not fair! Vinh, it's not fair at all. There's dozens other candidates to make the jump! Why not them! Petros," Nadia singled out a name with a dangerous conviction. "It should be Petros! He's been slacking in the fieldwork as of late. He eats more than his share and he's ungrateful for it! Why not someone useless like him?"
Vinh didn't know. No one did. But it wasn't his place to ask the why's. He just knew what was expected of him.
"Don't say that, Nadia. Whether it's true or not, it's not right. Besides it doesn't matter now. We both know how things must go. I've been marked. No one can take my place. It's just... it's just the way it has to be."
"WELL I HATE IT." She screamed. Nadia bolted up from her seat and began stomping furiously around the room. She didn't care where her voice drifted to. She didn't care who heard her. In fact, there was part of her that wanted to be heard. Let the village know just how much she hated this stupid, unfair ritual. "None of this is right, Vinh! And I'm not going to sit by and watch you throw your life away! I won't let it!" Nadia was fuming now, all composure gone. Tears were rolling down her cheeks, matting her shimmering hair. She paid them no mind. She'd not let herself break down like a little kid. Not now. Not when she needed to find the strength in order to change things. And rest assured, Nadia had all the conviction in the world to do just that.
But then, she saw him. In the midst of her fiery rant, she hadn't noticed that her best friend had been sitting there, legs folded, body hunched, head in his hands. Between his long, calloused fingers, drops after teardrop fell down. She didn't catch the slow, aching sobs that wracked his body each time he squeezed in a silent breath. Nadia, too fixated on her own pain, did not see his. She did now.
Vinh's quiet tears could only stay quiet for so long. "Please..." He said, his voice trembling. Every syllable he said was strained. It took *everything* from him just to keep it together. And even still, he was failing at it. "Please, Nadia. Enough. I- just. I can't hear that stuff anymore. Don't talk about what we *can* do. Don't talk about things we *can* be." A wracking sob hit him just then, forcing him to gasp. "Don't say things like that because... because we both know that we *can't* have any of that. I can't have any of that. So please. No more. I can't take it."
In that moment of agony, Nadia knew she had done wrong. She spoke of a world full of hopes and dreams, while Vinh faced off against the burden of reality, alone. Tender, slowly, she knelt besides him, gingerly wrapping an arm around Vinh's huddled body. Her sheer touch had sent shockwaves through his body causing him to cry harder still. She said nothing, she just held him. Held him and wept.
Finally, as the tears slowly came to a stop, she asked. "Why?" Her voice hoarse.
"Because-" Vinh said, pausing as another sob had caught in his throat. "Because if I don't do this, who knows what will happen. What would happen to mother. It's just her now taking care of me and Cyan. What if- what if I ran away like you said? What would happen to them? What about your parents. Your dad's been sick, no? What if the stories came true and the harvest never came? What would happen to them then? I... I can't risk that."
She hadn't thought about that. He was right, but all this time she had only been thinking about her wants, her needs. Nadia felt small and angry just then. "But-"
"Nadia," Vinh unfurled his big, wide arms and draped them over the smaller Nadia. He engulfed her, pulled her in and then held her tight. She welcomed it. "There's nothing else to say. If you continue fighting against it, it'll only make it that much harder on me. So please. While I can keep my head up high. While I can still tell myself that I'm doing this because I *want* to, please don't take that away from me. I don't want my sister's last memory of me to be of me crying. For what it's worth, I don't want that to be yours either."
She wanted to argue. So terribly did she want to, but she didn't. Vinh had laid out the truths in his heart and had made his last wishes be known. She'd have to respect that.
"Okay."
"Okay."
Vinh pushed them apart, holding her at arms length. The two stared at one another for a time that spanned a short infinity. Every line on their face, every blemish, every mark and all the little facets that comprised their faces, they stared at. It was a little silly, it was a bit awkward, and most of all, it was entirely perfect. Then they laughed. Just like they always had.
She wanted to say something else. One more thing that sat deep inside her heart. Words that were waiting for just the right moment to come out. But she couldn't say them. Not if they were going to steal his resolve. That was going to hurt, Nadia knew. For the rest of her life she'd regret not saying it. But that was her sacrifice to make. His was to dive into the abyss.
That night, they'd both have their own cross to bear.
|
|
[WP] There is a deep hole just outside your village. The elders pick one person to dive in every year, 'for the good of the tribe', never to be seen again. The elders have just chosen you. You're expected to jump tonight.
|
Every year one of us has to jump, every year we have to say goodbye to one of us just to have him jump down this damn hole and probably kill themselves.
Im planning to form a revolution,to overcome this nonsense and to live in freedom without being bound to these damn elders' rules.
Tomorrow when another man will give his live for the village I will bring the will of the village on my side, allthough im only a teenager and therefore protected I am still willing to risk my life for freedom.
*the next day*
This morning was as silent as every years chosing ones. No birds, no humans, no one even whispered.
.
.
It didnt went as planned...
I am now expected to be the one to jump tonight it feels like they knew what i was up to,I am scared of the dark below I dont want to jump but I will be forced..
Maybe my death will be for the greater good.
.
.
I was staring down the abyss,begging for my life up until they had enough of me and kicked me down ive been falling for a couple minutes now,at this point i just want it to end, its hard to breathe while falling but somehow my body feels lighter every second
I was about to bite of my own tongue when a bright white light blinded me to an extend ive never seen before. It was so bright i passed out and what felt like months was over in a couple minutes i woke up seeing a bright blue sky and a man with long hair infront of me it seems like we were transported on a... is that a wagon?
He leans forward to me...
"Hey, you. You're finally awake. You were trying to cross the border, right? Walked right into that Imperial ambush, same as us, and that thief over there."
|
I drop my apples in shock, shaking as I knew all along what this meant. They were going to sacrifice me. As young as eight I always snuck around to see how exactly it was done; not just the public display. I still remember the local bully, Kyle boasting on how his soul would save the village by jumping. The crowd cheered and awed at how quickly he went in, only to disappear as quickly as he went in. The elders would look in and smile that same smile.
"He did it! He saved us!"
As soon as the crowds would depart, I would see Savannah, the leader of the elders raise up her staff and two young men wearing dark green robes jump down the hole and float back up with Kyle still alive. He was covered in blood from his head to his toes. I still remember Savannah's low baritone voice, "Kill kim. He is no good anyways". As soon as she stopped talking, the men began to pull the boy apart from opposite directions as he screamed for help. His bones snapped like twigs as the flesh thinned and thinned revealing crimson and live gore. Kyle's eyes rolled back from the pain as death took his time. They churned the organs like stew and drained the blood into a large bucket as he still screamed.
When Kyle finally died, Savannah and her pack laughed together as they began feasting on the corpse like wolves. I always hated the souds of the slurping and the chewing when they ate. I don't know what else they did as I snuck away from the trees back home. Too bad, I wish I could say it ended there but the elders took on even tourists. Tourists were always the unlucky ones and the most likely victims of these "festivities". I sometimes wish that our "village" wasn't filled with new technology and talent that attracted so many people. So many victims for many years. This year there wasn't as many tourists so we now go back to our own people. They chose me of all the people. I pick up the newspaper that had my own personal column. I always hated the elders anyway. But this time I have a plan for this day. I always knew they were on to me since the "accident".
I still blame myself for getting Savannah killed by the train. But hey, what was I going to do when she wielded a knife at me? I pushed her over and heard the satisfying crunch of her ribs and her eyes popped out her skull. I pretended to cry when the police found me near her and they comforted me that I was trying to save myself but the elders were angry. Now, they want me dead because I got their leader killed. I have only 5 hours left until they come for me. I will escape them tonight.
I look over to my bed to a large bag that held my few belongings and I dressed up in all black pants, shirt, heavy duty shoes, and I had gloves for extra measure. The plan is almost done expect for one last thing: My spell book. I grab my spell book and scan through the pages until I stumble across the one that had the bookmark.
Here it is.
Spell #223
Mors phantastica illusio
I mumble the words as I focus my mind to conjure up the illusion. I feel the spell make my blood cold, almost like a sting in my heart. The room got darker and the wind around me whips around as I focus. Those elders aren't the only ones with magic. Anyone could learn it if they were determined. The spell finally fades to reveal an orb of purple and white. I smile as I hold it in my hands. This was going to be the key to my escape.
I will escape on the boat and the orb will imperonate me at the ritual long enough to make the jump.
Little do they know, once the spell wears off, I have spell #345 ready.
O lux
I cackle as I escape through the window and make it to shore. The hours flow by like drops of water and I look back to hear shrieks and cries as O lux burns their skin and flesh away. Nothing survives light. Nothing.
I smile as look the moon as I return home.
|
|
[WP] There is a deep hole just outside your village. The elders pick one person to dive in every year, 'for the good of the tribe', never to be seen again. The elders have just chosen you. You're expected to jump tonight.
|
I have a vague memory of a dream, I remember my parents telling me not to go in, I didn't listen. I let the darkness it emitted envelope me, I was changing, my bones cracked and grew thicker and longer. My skin darkened my legs lengthened. I could see better in the dark. I felt strong. I felt right. I woke up.
When I told my parents about my dream they looked scared. But I didn't care, I liked it, I wanted to be around it.
As a child I never feared the hole.
I was the only one like this, all the other children feared it, they would talk about their nightmares of falling in or being chosen to go. I could never understand their fear, the hole felt right.
I think I always knew I was different from the others in my village, maybe that's why I never got along with the other children. I didn't have any friends ever. I didn't care much for my parents either. They where mildly entertaining, but they never caught my interest much like the hole did.
But my parents didn't want me around it, they never let me play by it and it made me angry. Now I know they just didn't me to fall in, they loved me and didn't want to lose me.
I didn't care, but I felt obligated to stay, I was supposed to love my parents right? I could pretend.
I started to pretend a lot. I made friends, I learned how to be social, to appear normal. I grew a relationship with my parents. But none of it was real, all I cared about was the hole.
Then the day came.
Choosing day.
It was me. I was chosen.
My parents cried.
I smiled.
I was given a day. I spent it with my parents, but they seemed unsettled by my smiling and when they asked me why I smiled I responded without thinking.
*"I'm going home."*
My words only seemed to make them sadder but I was too happy to care. I was going home, this was right, it was where I needed to be and I'd known it my whole life, I didn't want to wait. I *couldn't* wait."
The need to leave kept building up inside of me, the call to go home became stronger and stronger until I couldn't take it.
My parents tried to hold me back but I needed to leave so desperately that I fought with everything I could and broke free. I ran fast, as fast as I possibly could desperate for it, desperate to be home.
I stopped right before it, staring at it like I had done so many times before. It sat in the ground dark, so dark that it seemed to absorb the light around it, I could never understand it and I wanted to know more. I was going to learn more I just knew it.
I heard my parents calling my name but I did not turn. I smiled and said my last words to them.
*"Don't be sad, I want this."*
And then I jumped.
The darkness enveloped me. My bones started to creek and crack, they grew longer and bigger, denser, stronger. My skin started to turn blue and darker. My legs started to grow even longer and they seamed to change shape. My feet became bigger and soon my legs and feet looked like that of a jumping mouse like I used to try and catch as a young child. And then I realized that I could see all of this happening, I could see in the dark even when I couldn't see the opening of the hole that I was falling down.
I smiled. I felt so much stronger, I felt comfortable in a way I never had in my old body. I was still changing and every change made me feel more like me than ever.
I hit the ground and blinked, unhurt and safe.
Creature smiled down at me with fangs and horns. Blue skin black eyes and long legs.
I was home, and my family welcomed me.
|
I drop my apples in shock, shaking as I knew all along what this meant. They were going to sacrifice me. As young as eight I always snuck around to see how exactly it was done; not just the public display. I still remember the local bully, Kyle boasting on how his soul would save the village by jumping. The crowd cheered and awed at how quickly he went in, only to disappear as quickly as he went in. The elders would look in and smile that same smile.
"He did it! He saved us!"
As soon as the crowds would depart, I would see Savannah, the leader of the elders raise up her staff and two young men wearing dark green robes jump down the hole and float back up with Kyle still alive. He was covered in blood from his head to his toes. I still remember Savannah's low baritone voice, "Kill kim. He is no good anyways". As soon as she stopped talking, the men began to pull the boy apart from opposite directions as he screamed for help. His bones snapped like twigs as the flesh thinned and thinned revealing crimson and live gore. Kyle's eyes rolled back from the pain as death took his time. They churned the organs like stew and drained the blood into a large bucket as he still screamed.
When Kyle finally died, Savannah and her pack laughed together as they began feasting on the corpse like wolves. I always hated the souds of the slurping and the chewing when they ate. I don't know what else they did as I snuck away from the trees back home. Too bad, I wish I could say it ended there but the elders took on even tourists. Tourists were always the unlucky ones and the most likely victims of these "festivities". I sometimes wish that our "village" wasn't filled with new technology and talent that attracted so many people. So many victims for many years. This year there wasn't as many tourists so we now go back to our own people. They chose me of all the people. I pick up the newspaper that had my own personal column. I always hated the elders anyway. But this time I have a plan for this day. I always knew they were on to me since the "accident".
I still blame myself for getting Savannah killed by the train. But hey, what was I going to do when she wielded a knife at me? I pushed her over and heard the satisfying crunch of her ribs and her eyes popped out her skull. I pretended to cry when the police found me near her and they comforted me that I was trying to save myself but the elders were angry. Now, they want me dead because I got their leader killed. I have only 5 hours left until they come for me. I will escape them tonight.
I look over to my bed to a large bag that held my few belongings and I dressed up in all black pants, shirt, heavy duty shoes, and I had gloves for extra measure. The plan is almost done expect for one last thing: My spell book. I grab my spell book and scan through the pages until I stumble across the one that had the bookmark.
Here it is.
Spell #223
Mors phantastica illusio
I mumble the words as I focus my mind to conjure up the illusion. I feel the spell make my blood cold, almost like a sting in my heart. The room got darker and the wind around me whips around as I focus. Those elders aren't the only ones with magic. Anyone could learn it if they were determined. The spell finally fades to reveal an orb of purple and white. I smile as I hold it in my hands. This was going to be the key to my escape.
I will escape on the boat and the orb will imperonate me at the ritual long enough to make the jump.
Little do they know, once the spell wears off, I have spell #345 ready.
O lux
I cackle as I escape through the window and make it to shore. The hours flow by like drops of water and I look back to hear shrieks and cries as O lux burns their skin and flesh away. Nothing survives light. Nothing.
I smile as look the moon as I return home.
|
|
[WP] There is a deep hole just outside your village. The elders pick one person to dive in every year, 'for the good of the tribe', never to be seen again. The elders have just chosen you. You're expected to jump tonight.
|
I have a vague memory of a dream, I remember my parents telling me not to go in, I didn't listen. I let the darkness it emitted envelope me, I was changing, my bones cracked and grew thicker and longer. My skin darkened my legs lengthened. I could see better in the dark. I felt strong. I felt right. I woke up.
When I told my parents about my dream they looked scared. But I didn't care, I liked it, I wanted to be around it.
As a child I never feared the hole.
I was the only one like this, all the other children feared it, they would talk about their nightmares of falling in or being chosen to go. I could never understand their fear, the hole felt right.
I think I always knew I was different from the others in my village, maybe that's why I never got along with the other children. I didn't have any friends ever. I didn't care much for my parents either. They where mildly entertaining, but they never caught my interest much like the hole did.
But my parents didn't want me around it, they never let me play by it and it made me angry. Now I know they just didn't me to fall in, they loved me and didn't want to lose me.
I didn't care, but I felt obligated to stay, I was supposed to love my parents right? I could pretend.
I started to pretend a lot. I made friends, I learned how to be social, to appear normal. I grew a relationship with my parents. But none of it was real, all I cared about was the hole.
Then the day came.
Choosing day.
It was me. I was chosen.
My parents cried.
I smiled.
I was given a day. I spent it with my parents, but they seemed unsettled by my smiling and when they asked me why I smiled I responded without thinking.
*"I'm going home."*
My words only seemed to make them sadder but I was too happy to care. I was going home, this was right, it was where I needed to be and I'd known it my whole life, I didn't want to wait. I *couldn't* wait."
The need to leave kept building up inside of me, the call to go home became stronger and stronger until I couldn't take it.
My parents tried to hold me back but I needed to leave so desperately that I fought with everything I could and broke free. I ran fast, as fast as I possibly could desperate for it, desperate to be home.
I stopped right before it, staring at it like I had done so many times before. It sat in the ground dark, so dark that it seemed to absorb the light around it, I could never understand it and I wanted to know more. I was going to learn more I just knew it.
I heard my parents calling my name but I did not turn. I smiled and said my last words to them.
*"Don't be sad, I want this."*
And then I jumped.
The darkness enveloped me. My bones started to creek and crack, they grew longer and bigger, denser, stronger. My skin started to turn blue and darker. My legs started to grow even longer and they seamed to change shape. My feet became bigger and soon my legs and feet looked like that of a jumping mouse like I used to try and catch as a young child. And then I realized that I could see all of this happening, I could see in the dark even when I couldn't see the opening of the hole that I was falling down.
I smiled. I felt so much stronger, I felt comfortable in a way I never had in my old body. I was still changing and every change made me feel more like me than ever.
I hit the ground and blinked, unhurt and safe.
Creature smiled down at me with fangs and horns. Blue skin black eyes and long legs.
I was home, and my family welcomed me.
|
Poem
The elders have chosen me,
Where I go I cannot see.
Many have jumped before,
I watch them fall but also soar.
I’m scared and nervous for tonight,
But here I sit proudly and upright.
The clocks ticks it’s last minute,
The hole below me looks infinite.
I jump because the Elders told me to,
I could’ve fought but didn’t think it through.
Now I’m falling over the ledge,
I look back and see my family peering through the hedge.
A sudden stop before too far,
All I am is a golf ball making par!
|
|
[WP] There is a deep hole just outside your village. The elders pick one person to dive in every year, 'for the good of the tribe', never to be seen again. The elders have just chosen you. You're expected to jump tonight.
|
The entire village gathered around. Everyone glanced at one another before the elders appeared on stage. “Welcome!” The eldest began. “Today is that time of the year. The time in which we gather for the chosen who will take our leap of faith for the survival of the human race.” The crowd cheered. Among the crowd stood Monty Patterson and his younger sister Vivian. Monty and Vivian did not cheer along with the crowd. Instead, they stood frozen – afraid. The reason for this is because either knowing they were still children, they understood the truth behind the ceremony. No one in the village was safe. Anyone could be chosen by the hand. The hand did not discriminate, nor did it consider age. Years ago, a newborn had been selected. If the hand chooses a name. It is to be etched in stone.
“Monty, will I be chosen?” Vivian teared.
“Don’t say that.” Monty snapped downward. “I won’t let that happen.” Monty felt helpless. If Vivian’s name had been chosen by the hand, there was nothing anyone could do.
The eldest stepped forward toward the stone goblet of old. “Let us now choose our champion!” This was the time when the crowd did not cheer, everyone stood in anticipation of their name being the one the eldest had just drawn from the goblet. “The next to take the dive –”
The eldest paused,
“Monty Patterson!”
The crowd cheered. Vivian had been yanked away from Monty as the crowd hoisted him up in the air with excitement. The elders all stood to embrace their next champion. Monty screamed for Vivian who had been lost in the crowd behind. Once Monty’s foot touched the hardwood of the stage, his color grew pale.
“Monty,” the eldest took hold of him to help his balance forward, “Monty, everything will be ok. This is an honor!”
Monty kept looking for his sister, but she had been concealed by everyone crowding against the stage. Monty stared at the eldest, his grandfather. “Why?”
“We don’t ever know our time my boy. One of the great things of being the chosen – is that you will know your time. Do not be afraid, for we do not know what lies at the bottom.”
Monty’s grandfather positioned him center stage in front of the other elders. “Tonight,” he announced, “Monty Patterson will take the dive!” While the crowd roared Monty’s name, his vision had blurred to the point where everything snapped to darkness.
When Monty awoke, he was behind the stage in the elder’s chamber. His grandfather instructed him he was to remain in the chamber until the dive. He left to go fetch Vivian in order for her to say goodbye, leaving behind a few elders to watch over Monty.
“I need to go.” Monty told one of the elders.
“Go where?”
“No – I mean I have to go.” Monty motioned his meaning. The elder smiled and handed him a bucket. “There’s no leaving the chamber dear.”
Monty tossed the bucket against the corner. He looked around the room for any possible exit but there were none visible. The chamber was full of secrets collected from all elders. Usually when one is about to take the dive, they try to find out as many answers to their questions as possible. But for Monty, the only answer he was interested in was a way out of the dive.
“Psst!” Monty heard a peculiar noise from behind one of the marble pillars. “Psst! Monty, come here!” Monty found the elders in mid conversation and moved to where the mysterious voice had come from. As Monty approached, he instantly screamed in shock,
“Henry!” Henry covered his mouth before any of the elders paid mind to the commotion. Henry shook his head and whispered from under his hood,
“Don’t say my name. They can’t know that I’m here.”
“Henry, how—” Monty started to question everything. The reason for his questioning is that Henry was Monty’s older brother – well, was. Henry had been chosen for the dive five years ago. Monty still remembers Henry disappearing into nothingness. Now, Henry was standing in front of him as if he never even took the dive at all.
“Listen to me Monty. Listen real closely.” Monty leaned in closer to his brother. “Whatever you do. Do not let anyone stop you from taking the dive.”
“Why? No one stops the dives. How are you here? What is going on?!” Monty needed answers. Henry rested his hand on his shoulder.
“Everything in this chamber – everything the elders had taught us is a lie.” Henry tried to explain quickly. “Everything will make since after the dive.”
“Why? What’s at the bottom?” Monty kept his attention onto Henry who noticed one of the elders moving their way.
“It isn’t a bottom little brother. It’s a side.” Henry pulled away.
“Monty?” An elder grabbed hold of Monty’s attention. “Are you alright? I heard you talking to yourself.”
Monty looked over his shoulder as there had not been a single trace of Henry’s presence. He didn’t understand how he was able to come back or even get inside the chamber. Monty started to question if his engagement with Henry was even real.
“I – I thought I saw my brother.” Monty told the elder. The elder looked back at the others who all started to become interested in Monty’s encounter.
“Tell us exactly what you saw or heard Monty.” Monty’s grandmother, one of the other elders ordered him.
“Why? What’s the big deal?”
“It may get you out of taking the dive, now tell us exactly what you saw.”
Monty felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand. His brother warned him of those who try to stop his dive. Monty was trying to understand why the elders believed that he actually saw his older brother and why they wanted to know each detail.
“Monty,” his grandmother handed him a pen and paper. “write us exactly what your brother told you in your vision.”
“Vision?” Monty became confused. It felt too real for it to be imaginary. The elders circled around him. His grandfather entered with Vivian, but Monty had been held back by the elders.
“Monty!” Vivian called out. The elders pulled Monty back to where he stood. Monty’s grandmother confronted his grandfather who rushed Vivian from the chamber. Monty called out for her, but the elders kept him in place.
“Monty,” his grandmother motioned the elders to release him. “Tell me what your vision was or it will be Vivian who takes the dive alongside you.”
|
Poem
The elders have chosen me,
Where I go I cannot see.
Many have jumped before,
I watch them fall but also soar.
I’m scared and nervous for tonight,
But here I sit proudly and upright.
The clocks ticks it’s last minute,
The hole below me looks infinite.
I jump because the Elders told me to,
I could’ve fought but didn’t think it through.
Now I’m falling over the ledge,
I look back and see my family peering through the hedge.
A sudden stop before too far,
All I am is a golf ball making par!
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[WP] There is a deep hole just outside your village. The elders pick one person to dive in every year, 'for the good of the tribe', never to be seen again. The elders have just chosen you. You're expected to jump tonight.
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As a boy, my friend and I would sneak out at night and drop stones into the hole. We would carry the largest rocks we could find and heave them over the edge. They disappeared in seconds, and not once did they make a sound. We stopped playing the game after we saw the first man jump. From the foliage we watched, as the elders and warriors escorted him to the precipice, torches in hand. He jumped, and he was gone. On many sleepless nights, I remembered the silence. It would have been better if he screamed.
I was always the odd one out as I grew older. While my friends matured into men, with broad shoulders and wide chests, I remained thin and gangly. Bird-bones, they would call me. I could not throw a spear or carry the carcass of an antelope over my shoulders. Perhaps that is why I was selected by the elders.
I thought about running away at first, but I realized I could not live with the shame. It was my duty. In this sacrifice, I could finally serve the tribe in a noble way. So, late one night, I said my goodbyes and entered the elders longhouse. They painted me in white patterns and paraded me down the road, lined by thatch huts and the eyes of the onlooking village. It was a warm night, and the full moon lit the way.
At the edge of the hole, I felt no fear at first. Then I peered over the edge and it shot through my head and heart, waves of terror. But I could not turn back now.
The elders chanted in their secret language. The words seemed to twist and shimmer in the air around me. Finally it was time. I could not describe the feeling I had as I threw myself from the earth. It was similar to the feeling I had when I leapt from cliffs into the lake below. But this time, I knew that there would be no gentle embrace of water waiting at the bottom. I would fall into my death.
And so I fell. The light of the moon above vanished almost instantly, and I was surrounded by darkness. I could not see the walls of the hole around me. I could only feel the air rushing up past me. My limbs moved and found nothing around them. I quickly lost all sense of direction; if I was falling up or down, I could not tell. I fell so fast it burned my skin.
After minutes of falling, I imagined that there was no earth above and earth below. There was only the darkness, infinite, in every direction. And there was something pulling me down.
I cannot tell you for how long I fell, only that it was enough that I began to long for the taste of water. I was tired, but I could not fall asleep, as every time I did, I would have a nightmare, a nightmare so terrible it would wake me instantly, a nightmare of falling, falling into nothing but darkness. A darkness so real that I imagined that the earth above had never really existed. The daylight, the ground beneath my feet, the blue sky, those might all have been illusions. A strange dream I had during a very long sleep. Perhaps I had been falling all this time, and imagined that strange life as a distraction.
I fell for what must have been days. And then, my hand touched something in the darkness. Something wet and cold. It snapped at my hand like a turtle, and I recoiled in terror. After I had gathered enough courage, I reached out again, and I felt it again. Something hit my hand, burning my fingertips. Eventually, I realized this was the wall of the hole. I reached out with my other hand, and felt another wall. Soon I realized that the walls were closing in around me, on all sides, incredibly slowly, but unmistakably constricting. I made an effort to reach out with both my hands and touch the walls, slowing my descent through friction. The wet, smooth walls prevented this action from ripping through the flesh of my fingers.
Over time, the walls were close enough that I had to keep my feet together, and then close enought that I had to keep my arms above my head. On all sides the walls were constricting, like some sort of snake wrapping itself around me. I feared that it would crush me soon enough, so I made every effort to slow my fall with my hands. Eventually the hole was tight enough that a normal man might have been too wide to fit. But I had always been thin, so the walls let me slip past, and my descent slowed. I was going slow enought that I could almost have stopped myself if I tried to press my body against the walls, but I didn't dare to.
And then, in an instant, the walls gave way, and I fell freely once more, only for a second. My legs crumpled beneath me as something violent rushed up out of the darkness below and slammed into me. The air left my lungs and I tasted blood. Something cold and solid had crashed into me and stopped my fall.
The feeling of not-falling hit me first, and I found it hard to move my limbs. I tried to stand up, only to slip and drop again. I landed on my back, where something soft gave way beneath me with a crunch. The smell then overwhelmed me, and I turned over and vomited. I braced myself with my hand, but my hand dug into something, something hard and cold, that shifted. At first I thought I was lying among branches and rocks. But as I felt this thing in my hand, I pushed my fingers into a pair of holes and realized I was sitting among corpses. I panicked, and tried to move away, but my feet could find no purchase among the bodies. I crawled through the dark, wretching, stumbling, but there was no end to the bodies, they pulled themselves around my ankles and arms, I slipped and fell among bones and cold slime, decaying skin and worse.
It took me a while to gather myself. I have been sitting here for hours, it seems. At first I tried to find an exit. But there is none. The walls surround this pit in a perfect circle. It took me a full hour to crawl around them, searching with my hands for any way out. I am ashamed to admit, I even tried to dig, to find the bottom. I used up the last of my pitiful energy, motivated by sheer terror, to dig my way through the bones. To no avail.
There are too many corpses here. Not even if a man has jumped down from my village every year for a thousand years. The bones would have turned to dust by now if that were the case. But they haven't.
Even as I am remembering my story, my mind decays into delirium. I have forgotten what is real. I should be dead right now. It takes me what seems like hours to even think. I am so thirsty and so hungry. And so very tired. But every time I close my eyes, I fall again. That nightmare is not so unpleasant now, now that I have reached the bottom.
There is something else down here with me. I can feeling it watching me. Not with eyes, no. Eyes are useless down here, where no light has ever been. Still it waches me. It can wait a very long time. The bodies that come down here, they drip down, bit by bit. They get caught in the tighest part of the hole, and then they decay. I think about all the men that must have been stuck where I slipped through. I wish I shared their fate. I will slip away soon, very soon. There will be no rest for me here. It doesn't matter. This is where I have always belonged.
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"The Void waits patiently for mortals," the Elders would say. "But it returns a great bounty to the village when, once a year, we do not require it to wait. By sending one strong and healthy man early, into the mouth of darkness, bound for bliss in the Deep Hereafter, the Void provides us with light, and a measure of bliss, in this world, in the here and now."
Just six months ago, during the sacred Ceremony of Bones, I was elected to take the Great Journey next spring. At first I was, as the Elect generally are, excited and ecstatic. I had learned from birth that there was no greater honour than being chosen to enter early into the blissful realm of the immortals, and I had spent my life, as most young men of our tribe do, trying my best to earn that right.
I became a skilled and capable hunter, often returning from my hunting trips with huge hauls of meat slung over my shoulders. I became a fearsome and talented warrior, and played an integral role in the defence of our tribe against the Makuna invasion, as well as in the expansion of our territory many miles into Ickblatta lands. I earned a reputation as a fair-minded and intelligent young man as well: it is for more than just their skills in orchestrating death that tribesmen are elected by the Elders. Some even said that I had the spirit of a true-born Chief commingled with the blood that pumped through my veins. It was only natural that the elders, led by Chief Steppa, would choose me to take the Great Journey. But what I first saw as a look of satisfied pride in the Chief's eyes when he announced my election, I now see differently.
"What if," I wondered to myself, some nights after the election, when the initial excitement had worn off, "what if the Chief chooses to send the strongest, smartest and best into the Void *not* because of the supernatural benefits it will confer upon the tribe? What if he uses the custom as an opportunity to rid the tribe of those who would otherwise threaten his reign, supremacy and hold on power? Could the underlying motive of this religious and magical ceremony really be so brutal and pragmatic?" Such questions crossed my mind, and sent shivers through my generally unperturbed spirit.
I tried to suppress them, and to rekindle the naive faith in the custom which had guided my every action since childhood. But such questions, however much I tried, did not stay suppressed for long...
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[WP] There’s panic all across the globe. The world has been covered in total darkness for the past week. That was when THEY arrived. THEY roam around outside. You and many others across the world are in hiding. Hiding from THEM.
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Josh peered through the slit in his door. With narrowed eyes, he surveyed the landscape.
It was all normal until they came. They didn't exactly have a name, but a name spread around the local area: Grabbers. They had touched down on Earth like with an alien apocalypse, forcing everyone out of their homes. It was the reason that they had acquired the name in the first place, as witnesses saw their neighbours and loved ones being scooped by the aliens in their gigantic hands.
It was a few months after the invasion, though. Mostly everyone had been taken by the alien race, to be experimented on or just simply killed. The aliens still hadn't declared the mission a success, as they still had frequent patrols scour plentiful neighbourhoods turned ghost towns. We had figured out their schedule, though; it was no secret at this point. Every day, hey would start walking around at one in he morning, seven, at noon, three, seven and ten'oclock.
Josh turned around. "Time check."
His companion, which was also his wife Wendy, fumbled around in a plastic bag in search of a watch. The bag crinkled endlessly, producing a ruckus that pierced the silence. "It's gone."
Josh immediately reached and snatched the bag, looking for himself. "What do you mean it's gone?"
"The watch," Wendy stuttered, "is gone. I can't find it."
Josh suddenly threw the bag to the floor, rage in his eyes. "Then find it, for God's sake! We can't lose the watch!"
Wendy obediently dropped to the floor, tears in her eyes. The time piece could be anywhere on the trail they had taken on the way here, still ticking away. Or maybe it had already been crushed by patrolling Grabbers, crushed beyond repair. After all, if the humans could predict when the teams would come around to exterminate them, they would easily be outsmarted.
"Shit, hey could be here any moment now," Josh cursed under his breath, returning to his post at the door. Even though he was intently looking at his surroundings, he wasn't taking much in. The watch completely occupied his mind, and if it were indeed lost, the two of them would most certainly die at the hands of the Grabbers.
Minutes went by, which felt like excruciating hours. Minutes in which they could either be in he clear for a cool few hours, or deadly periods that they would much rather be hiding in the basement, ensuring that they didn't make a single sound. Wendy had come back, and much to Josh's dismay, she wasn't holding the watch. "I'm so sorry," she mouthed, leaning up against her partner.
Josh tried to comfort the woman, suggesting that they hide ahead of time. Silently, she nodded her head.
The two went downstairs in the now abandoned house, deciding that they hide behind a sheet of wood that was conveniently placed. From then, Wendy couldn't help but empty our her tear ducts.
The door opened, which Wendy's moaning nullified. Josh hadn't heard the sudden interruption, he had instead focused on comforting her wife. "It'll be alright," he had repeated without much thought. "We'll get through this together."
Wendy had stopped crying. She tilted her head up and heard the footsteps above them. "Shh," she held a finger up to Josh's mouth. Slowly, she brushed away her tears, being extremely mindful of the sounds she was creating.
It was too late. The aliens had already had the thought to descend the basement's steps, and they shortly arrived. Guessing from where they heard the sobbing, the team of two Grabbers, decorated with suits of armor made with a shiny grey metal, guessed where their next victims would be. They whispered amongst themselves, promising to themselves that they would not let the other leave empty-handed.
As Josh stayed hidden, he couldn't stop his body from tickling his nose, dust coming up into his sinuses. Despite his numerous attempts at neutralizing the sneeze, pressing a finger against the troublesome body part, the urge would not dissipate. As a result, he let one out that instantly attracted the attention of the two patrols.
Whipping around, they pulled away the covers of the two humans. They wore emotionless expressions, which was not very recognizable by the two fugitives. With a swipe, Josh and Wendy were both suspended by their necks, held by the pair of extraterrestrial beings. They choked and struggled with all their might, kicking desperately at the patrol's set of armor, their grip on them would not budge.
One of the aliens held their other hand up to their throat to clear it. Then, he started to speak in very basic, broken English. "We do not kill. We save. We save from other Grabbers."
From his partially crushed neck, Josh managed to mutter "Then let us go. You're... Killing us."
The Grabbers released Josh and Wendy, shocked at the damage they had caused. "We... We are sorry," one apologized. "We only do this one time."
"Well shit," Wendy rubbed her bruised neck. "At least you didn't kill us."
The other Grabber spoke up. "We are sorry. We grab necks to move humans, go past other Grabbers."
"Could've just not held us by our necks," Josh spat. "Now It's going to be sore for the rest of my life."
"We are sorry. You come with us when ready. We take you someplace."
Josh and Wendy both exchanged glances at each other and nodded. Josh nodded at the two rogue Grabbers. "I think we'll be as ready as we can be," he announced, tears of joy starting to come from his eyes.
"You sure?" An alien checked. Josh and Wendy seemed to be struggling to breathe, the two had latched on so hard. "Your neck..."
Josh stood up, appearing more determined. "No, we are ready. If you really are what you say you are, we'll no longer have to worry about surviving through this hellscape. And of you aren't and this is just some elaborate game, we won't have to worry about surviving, roaming aimlessly in the constant search of food and water, constantly interrupting our rest periods to watch out for all of you."
"Then we will take," the alien smiled. "Take the humans somewhere else."
I had to write the last bit when my sleep cycle started to remind !e that I was supposed to be getting some sleep. Sorry about that! Also, feedback is appreciated!
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No one knows where the darkness came from. It began as a shroud in the horizon, but as it came closer it looked like a blanket of pure nothingness. It was a void that descended from the skies, painting the whole world black. It swept through the whole city, swallowing every source of light it touched. Power went out everywhere, the sun above disappeared behind the darkness. That's when *they* came.
No one knows what those creatures are. They are swift, silent, vicious. They roam unseen and undetected, always in the hunt for those of us that survived the first hours of the dark. I remember their snarls and growls, the crunching of bones under great pressure, the smell of blood in the air, the screams of fear and pain. No one knows how many died that day or since, or how we managed to survive. That's the worst part. Not knowing. I don't know if my family made it out, or if they made it out of the street when it all went black. In a world without light, knowledge seems to be the first thing to disappear.
I've been hiding in someone's house ever since. The owners, an old couple, let as many people in as they could under the circumstances, but some weren't as lucky. They begged for us to open the door before we heard them being dragged away by whatever was out there. There are twelve others in here besides me, and we all gather by the candlelight in the living room and listen to a radio the couple had stashed away in a closet. At first there was a lot of chatter out there, but it has diminished of late. We received fewer transmissions every day, until they stopped coming at all. Maybe the others didn't make it. Maybe the darkness outside is getting in the way of the signal, crazy as that sounds. In any case, everyone out there that was still alive seemed to be on the same boat as us. Ignorant, trapped, and afraid.
Some of the others were talking. They were sharing theories on what was happening. From military secret weapons to government experiments gone wrong, they went through all the classics in less than an hour. Until a girl who hadn't spoken at all chimed in. Her story wasn't the most original, but at least it had the sound of a story and not a tall tale.
“I've been thinking,” she said in a small voice. “The day before it got dark there were some rumors going on at my school.”
The room became completely silent. I could feel the expectation fall like a hammer on all of us, as we waited for her to tell her share.
“A friend was telling me,” she continued. “Some kids from another class had gone to a camping trip during break. They were saying they found some creepy tunnel or something out in the woods. I guess they thought it would make a good spot for one of those creepypasta stories, because they went back a few days ago. Only they didn't come back.”
“I heard about that!” someone exclaimed in the back. We all shushed him and let the girl get back to the story.
“Well, to cut the story short, the police found them in the tunnel entrance. One of them was dead, the other two made it to the hospital, but one of them is in a coma, and the other had severe shock and won't even speak.”
“Okay, but what were the rumors?” I found myself asking. I was curious, but I needed to know how this all related to our situation.
“Well, my friend was saying that it wasn't true that the kid wouldn't speak. That the story got changed in the news. She said the nurses heard him say stuff so crazy that they had to sedate him to keep him from hurting himself.”
“What was he saying?” someone else asked. Everyone leaned forward, myself included, to better hear.
“I don't really know *how* it's related,” she said. “But people heard him say ‘darkness is coming out’, over and over again. And I know it sounds dumb, but…”
But that's what happened. No one said it, yet we all thought it all the same. Darkness, not the absence of light but *darkness* as an actual thing, came out from somewhere and brought those creatures with it.
It's been seven days now, since the world disappeared. Food is running scarce. We were too many to feed, and I fear we won't make it much longer. We can't be sure, but the creatures are probably still out there, and we are certain we will die if we open the door to check. We are sure the darkness will pour in and take us all the moment we even try to escape, and yet death remains our fate if we stay as we are. All we have now is a choice on how we'll meet our end.
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[WP] You are praying to whatever god when you hear a booming voice say, "Huh? What... what year is it?", you answer with 2019 upon which the voice speaks again, "Oh crap I really overslept. You're gonna help me fix everything now."
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It was raining, I think. Or perhaps I’d been crying so much the world flooded, soaking me to the bone, sweeping filth off the streets.
On my knees, in an abyss between somewhere and nowhere, tucked into the pocket of an uncaring God, I begged. I don’t even really know what for, to be honest. Anything. Everything. To feel whole again, or happy, or maybe just better, for a world worth living and a life worth space in the world. To be a better man, one Hannah deserved.
There was an answer. A deep, booming voice that rumbled through the valleys of my brain.
“*Shit, I overslept. I need your help putting everything back together, James. Let’s make things right again.*”
“Wait, what? God? You’re real?”
“*You prayed without even believing in me?*” He sounded surprised, or maybe that’s just how my mind presented his words.
“Well, I—I don’t know, I wasn’t expecting an answer. Have I gone mad?”
“*Likely, yes, but that only makes you more fitted to the task, in my experience. Enough idle chat; as I said, there’s little time. We need to right the course of this ship.*”
“What am I supposed to do? I can’t even keep my own life together. It’s all falling apart.”
He laughed at me inside of my own head. God. “*Ah, human. You think too much. Allow me to help you out a little bit.*”
My panic, my sadness, my anger and doubt all melted, washing off of me like I was in a holy shower rinsing the grime off me. I stood up in the dark, and the rain stopped—had it ever started?—and walked forward. I didn’t know where or why, but forward seemed correct.
“*Now, James. Listen close to me. I need you to do something important for me.*”
“What?” I croaked. “How do I help God?”
“*By helping yourself.*”
The darkness waned slightly, not as if there were a source of light, but as if the darkness itself were a setting that could be adjusted. Spinning, I saw nothing but walls around me, and there was a small gemstone in the dirt at my feet. I picked it up, blowing it off, twirling it. A diamond.
“*I need it, James. Climb out of the pit and bring it to me.*”
I looked around, tracing my hands along the smooth, vertical dirt walls. “How? I can’t get out of this.”
“*You can.*”
Mumbling, I went to tuck the diamond into my pocket—but there were none. My clothes had no trace of pockets, somehow.
“I can’t climb with only one hand. This is impossible, I have to leave it behind.”
No response.
I sighed, looking at the gem. It was the size of thumb-tip, brilliant even in the dark, and utterly useless. I felt all of the negativity that had been washed off me fighting, pushing against the dam set up in my mind. How the fuck was I supposed to get up there?
Kneeling down, God finally cut in. “*You’re looking at it wrong.*”
“What?”
“*The gem. It’s what you make of it. A burden in the mind is one in life.*”
It sat in my hand, sneering at me. I drew a deep breath, deeper than the pit I was in, and shut my eyes. Maybe God was right—but what good would thinking about it differently do? Maybe the gem wasn’t useless, if God wants it. But it was no good to my plight, and only served to make climbing out even harder.
*It’s what you make of it.*
I opened my eyes. It had changed shape, growing into a set of picks just as stunning as the gem.
I climbed. One pick in, another out and up.
Slowly.
It was grueling, back-breaking, and I nearly fell several times.
My whole body hurt.
I was so tired.
I made it out.
Hunched over, heaving breaths, I held the gem up. It had returned to its original shape. “Here, God. I've done what you asked for.”
He laughed at me again, but it felt less insulting. “*Keep it.*"
The darkness intensified, swallowing me, whisking my being away. I was gone.
~~
I opened my eyes, inhaling sharply, immediately filled with a sense of dread heavier than iron. I swallowed, gulping it down. Rolling in bed, thin sunlight creeping through cracks in shattered blinds, Hannah was already awake. She looked at me hard, but a weak smile twitched.
“What time is it?” I asked.
“Ten.”
“Shit, I overslept.” I sat up, rubbing my eyes, then cupped a hand on her face. She leaned into it, eyelids pressed shut. “I need your help putting everything back together, Hannah. Let’s make things right again.”
*/r/resonatingfury*
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Wait, what just happened? I asked the voice that just talked to me. It must be weird for the other people in the church to hear me talk to seemingly nobody. The voice answered 'I am god, i've been asleep for the last 2019 years. I put Jesus on this earth to take over while i was asleep, but he clearly didn't do a good job; this place is a mess!'
I wasn't sure if i was going crazy or if god was really talking to me. I never had any hallicunations before, my mental health is in order and i haven't had any weird dreams lately, but there is no way god is talking to me right now! I was getting kinda scared because of this whole weird situation, but my feeling of curiousity took over the feeling of fear and i asked; 'So... what do you want me to do?'. I didn't get an answer. I decided to wait for 10 minutes but the voice didn't come back. When i got up of the prayer mat, the priest came up to me and asked if i was okay. I lied to him and told the man that i always talk during prayer. He gave me a weird look but didn't ask any further questions.
I was walking towards my car when Collin called me; 'Desmond quick! your son has been involved in an accident at the Bank! I need you to come over to the hospital ASAP!'. I panicked and ran towards my car. I forgot about the weird experience i just had and drove towards the hospital quickly. I went 80Mph in a 50 zone, but fuck it, my son was in danger! I came to a traffic light that was turning red and i decided to drive on. It was irresponsible i know, but i felt like it was the right thing to do. I just passed the red light when my engine suddently stopped working. The dashboard indicated 'no fuel'. No way, this is not possible! I filled up the tank yesterday!. I saw a truck driving quickly towards the intersection from the left. I know this intersection very well, as i always pass it when i drive to work. I knew that the traffic light would be green for the truck, and i tried to get out of my car as quickly as possible. I loosened my seatbelt in time, but right when i wanted to open the door i heared a big BOOM. Everything went black. Was this death? Would i be stuck in this black space forever? I felt like i was getting a panic attack when the voice spoke to me; 'I will show you'
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[WP] Your village is built around an old tree that is worshipped as a god and protector. You’ve always been skeptical about the nature of tree and its supposed abilities, but one day you notice a wizard from out of town ‘speaking’ with the tree, seemingly deep in conversation.
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**The Heart Tree’s Song**
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“I have searched and searched, and found no sign of the one you seek”, the cloaked old man exclaimed, beating his staff firmly upon the ground in apparent frustration.
​
Renn stopped in her tracks at the edge of the grove. It was the early hours of the morning, and the scene before her was illuminated by the light of the moon hanging like a lantern in the dark sky above. A slim figure stood next to the heart tree, wearing a large pointy hat and dressed in a flowing garb. With his back to Renn, he leant upon the tree with a single bony hand. The figure appeared to be deeply involved in a heated argument with an unseen adversary.
​
“Bah! Nonsense - there is not a soul in this town who matches that description!” He rasped and huffed, pulling his crinkled hat even further over his brow.
“Don’t you think I…” - “Now don’t you think I’ve…” - “Must you be so insolent!?” The figure appeared to be barking at thin air.
​
Renn began to slowly back away, the half-full vase of water that she carried clutched tightly to her chest. Having not been able to fall asleep, she had collected the water from the village wishing well, and had planned to feed the roots of the heart tree and wish for her Pa to come home soon - he had been gone longer than usual.
​
“Now listen here you rapscallion, you-you… you roguish miscreant! I will not be spoken to in that manner! I am a wizard of the forest! A sorcerer of Elsyver!” The man bellowed, before mustering his apparently frail strength to strike the tree with the base of his staff. The blow shook free a particularly heavy looking heartfruit, which in return fell upon the man’s head, knocking his hat over his eyes and revealing his wispy hair.
​
Renn looked upon the spectacle unfolding before her, bewildered. She had seen her fair share of drunks stumbling around in the dead of night, but this was different. The figure spoke clearly, if a little raspy, but certainly without slurring his words. Did he say he was a wizard? She thought back to Old-Eyes, one of the village elders who used to tell stories to the children about forest wizards. They were supposed to be strange folk: druids who came from deep within the woods, often bringing trouble in tow. She recalled a story Old-Eyes once told of a forest wizard who, carried by birds, would fly between towns selling trinkets and potions. The wizard would tell the birds where she wanted to go by whistling to them. She could make flowers blossom in winter, and she could listen to the age-old secrets of the trees. As Renn had grown older her Pa had insisted that Old-Eyes’ tales were just children’s stories. However, here before her was a man, alone in the dead of night, very much appearing to be deep in conversation with a tree.
​
“Now - I will search for one more day - dear old friend, and then I have business to attend elsewhere. No not Elsyver. Elsewhere! As in not here in this decrepit town!” The figure slumped his head forward in tired defeat - “You’re sure he has just the one eye?”
​
Renn dropped the vase, which shattered on the cobblestones below; her Pa had one eye. The figure whipped round to face her, closing half the distance in a split second, his staff raised and at the ready. Renn, looking upon his face, could see that his skin itself almost looked like tree bark in the moonlight.
​
“I will allow you a moment to explain yourself, before you spend the rest of your life as a toad - hopping from stone to stone, contemplating the impoliteness of sneaking up on a defenceless old man at this time of night.” The old man's scowling eyes and gaunt face showed no hint or intention of mercy.
​
Renn threw up her hands and began to apologise - “I am- I mean I was- I wanted to make a wish. I didn’t meant to-”
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“A wish?” The old man interrupted.
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“… yes, by watering the heart tree and-”
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The old man interrupted Renn’s explanation again, this time with a cackle that felt as if it shook the air.
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“That has got to be… that is the most ridiculous thing I have ever heard!” The man managed to utter before breaking out into yet more thunderous laughter.
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Renn waited and watched, confused and afraid, as the man regained his composure and lowered his staff.
​
“This old tree is far too sour of soul to be granting any wishes, isn’t that right old friend?” The old man spoke, and then walked and placed his hand on the tree once more. “Oh you do? You try your best to help these people?” He paused. “I don’t believe that for a moment.”
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“Sorry, are you… are you talking to the tree?” Renn asked, still in disbelief.
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Still with his hand laid upon the tree trunk, the old man turned his wrinkled face towards Renn.
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“This old tree is in a poor mood.” He relayed.
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“… Why?” Renn mustered.
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“Each night, an old soul comes to the grove and plays his song - he has not been here for the-”
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“Does he have one eye?” Renn asked.
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“Yes! You know him?” The old man blurted out.
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“He’s my Pa.” Renn replied.
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“Well go and fetch him quickly!” The old man ushered Renn with his staff. “I imagine you’ll get your wish.”
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“I don’t know where he is.” Renn bowed her head in sadness, tears beginning to well in her eyes.
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“Ah, child.” The old man’s voice became softer. He waited a moment. “Do you hear that old friend? The melody you seek is lost in the woods.”
​
The trees branches creaked softly and swayed; its leaves hissed and waned against the gentle wind, seeming almost as if to make the sound of a long and heartfelt sigh.
​
“I know the song that my father plays” Renn whispered, raising her head to look at the tree with damp eyes. “And… I’ll play it for you - if you promise you’ll help him find his way home.” She looked to the old man, who after a moment's pause, nodded in approval.
​
Renn knelt before the tree, and the wizard stood back. The cool night air held still in the grove, and even the weeds and blades of grass seemed to lean in anticipation. Renn closed her eyes and clasped her hands in her lap. She first began to hum, and then to whistle the familiar tune. With her eyes closed, Renn saw her mother; laughing, dancing, and prancing around the grove, as she would in the summers of years ago, picking the fruit of the heart tree and singing her song as she went. The tree's branches seemed to swing ever so slightly, moving with the wind to the melody, against the deep blue of the night sky. Renn’s tune was sweet and melancholic, and long - she knelt by the tree playing the melody over and over until sunrise, lost in its sombre embrace and the memories of her mother. When she finally opened her eyes again, the old man was gone.
|
Ana stopped in her tracks when she set her eyes on a tall and skinny man whispering to the Great Tree.
*Heretical,* she thought instantly. No one was allowed to talk to the tree, only the druids. It had been forbidden long before she was born. This was a foundation to her life, and a man breaking that foundation was attacking her personally. She plodded forth silently, getting closer undetected. It was dark and a growing wind was masking her steps. The moon hid behind thick clouds - maybe it didn't want to be an accomplice to this blasphemy.
Anger was rising in her but Ana wanted to listen first. That man had possibly come with dark motives, scheming against the established order. He could only be scheming, no believer would ever utter a word to the tree.
"- miss you, Svetlana. My Kotenok," he whispered.
"Every day of every month, I try to fill the nothingness that consumes me. Nothing helps." He paused.
Ana felt a powerful a powerful wave of sadness overcome her. She didn't will it, it just took over. Why was she feeling this? That man meant nothing to her and yet a small voice in her was telling her to abandon the wall of her mind that resisted this sadness. And she did. As tears slid down her cheeks, she recalled that those cheeks hadn't seen tears in fifteen year since her mother's disappearance, and her father's cowardly desertion of Ana. He had just vanished, like a thief in the night.
"I'm sorry I am weak, Svetlana. I did this to you, and you'll never be free unless I stop this madness. This prison has been enough."
He paused again. Do what? What was he planning? She was about to reveal herself and interrupt him, but his whispers returned.
"I wanted to stay, but when I peered into her eyes, her deep and bottomless purple, I saw you. And seeing you is a dagger to my heart, an arrow piercing me."
Ana stopped breathing. Purple eyes? She was the only one with purple eyes apart from her mother. Her heart drummed against her rib cage and her lungs contracted. That voice, the man's tone, it meant something to Ana. It rang against a small part of her mind, a memory. *Dad, it's you*. She exhaled, the tears sliding down freely on her cheeks now. He swiveled to face her. His expression spoke a thousand words in an instant. A deep sadness possessed his eyes. He saw her mother in Ana.
Ana wanted to speak, scream and whisper all at once. She hated him, but she couldn't utter her feelings. She loved him, but her mind couldn't put that into words. Loneliness had consumed her this whole life, the Great Tree her only confidant. She had felt a connection with it, loved and her thoughts listened in her prayers.
That man standing in front of her, he was all that remained for Ana. Before she could say anything, cries came from beyond the grove.
"Heretic! Stop him!"
A fire engulfed the hand of her father, and the light flickered against the tears welling from him eyes. Ana turned around as dozens of men and women came barging, knives in hand.
"Ana step away from that man!"
"Wait! Stop!" She pleaded as they rushed towards her father, gazes of hatred and fear shining in the night. Two women grabbed her to set her aside.
"It's all right, Ana. You're safe," they whispered in her ears. But Ana thought back, struggling against the strength of their embrace. She heard a strange sound, like a fast bird shooting through the air, and screams from all those behind her. Ana couldn't see, but the sounds painted a clear picture. The Great Tree was burning, the light shining the whole grove. Her father's screams of pain melded with the fire consuming the trees. And when that was done, Ana felt alone once more. A terrible emptiness, one that could never be replaced.
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[WP] A witch asks people to bring her an object and she will grant you a desire of equal or less value to it. When you bring her a rock from your backyard, she stares at you with wide eyes and asks "Where did you find this?"
|
It was a good arrangement we had. I was allowed to live just outside the village and given needed amenities in exchange for my magical talents. However, these talents didn't come from nothing. I turned the raw emotional energy inherent in a person's belongings into the very spells and incantations I practiced.
I'd become so masterful of my art I could sense the very energy. A farmer could bring me his favorite pair of shoes, and I can use them to cure his daughter's fever. The local lord could bring me a family heirloom, and I could use it to repel flood waters from a blightful storm.
It was a fair life, but a lonely one. Sure, people would come by often, but it was always business. People who need something enough to rely on forces out of their understanding tend not to make the best conversation. Much of my time was spent studying my magic and providing for the village. That is until he came to my door.
He was drunk. I didn't recognize his face from the other villagers. He presented me with a shoe and asked to fill his flagon. He had drunk it in a few hearty gulps. When finished, he collapsed to the ground in a drunken stupor. He wasn't the first to come to my home and waste my power.
I had thought he'd be gone by the morning. To my surprise, he sat groggily at my stoop. He presented his other shoe for a cure to his hangover and a napkin for a loaf of bread. He stuck around for a while. He was a wandering vagrant who found himself at my doorstep after hearing word of me from the villagers.
I was a lucky find for him. He would give me small bits and baubles in exchange for food and drink. He stuck close by when he wasn't begging in the village. At first, it was an annoyance. He'd pester me about exchanging items, often trying to figure out how to get the most out of a trade. However, soon it became less of a pester and more about curiosity. After many questions about my magic, I made him a deal. A question for a question.
"How do you know how much power a thing has," he asked.
I answered, "Every object a person owns has a certain amount of personal attachment to it. The more attachment a person feels, the more potent spells I can cast."
Then I asked, "How'd you find yourself in your situation?"
He shrugged and said, "Never knew my pa. My ma and I were beggars until she died of consumption when I was young. Never learned a trade. Nobody would teach me."
"Why's that?" I asked curiously.
He shrugged, "Don't know. Guess no one wants a starving beggar as an apprentice."
He didn't ask another question. After several somber moments, a thought occurred to me. I made him an offer, "Quit drinking and begging from the villagers. In exchange, I'll find you an apprenticeship."
After some thought, he agreed. It was hard for him at first. I helped where I could. I'd cure his shakes in exchange for stories of his travels. After a month sober, I received business from the village blacksmith. He needed his shop expanded in exchange for a pair of his daughter's baby shoes. A made the deal with the blacksmith with the added request of taking on a new apprentice. With the expansion of his business, he generously accepted.
My friend worked very hard in his apprenticeship, but he always made time to stop by just to chat. I remember when he brought me his first creation, a crooked horseshoe. He wanted to exchange it for a lodging between my cabin and the smithy. The pride inherent in that twisted hunk of metal was more than enough to summon a cottage and some furnishing.
He continued to ask about my magic. He used what he learned at the forge, imbuing his emotions into his creations. His works improved as he learned to smith. His creations' qualities improved further as he practiced magic. The blacksmith never had any sons, and with the quality of the work, the choice of a successor was easy. Soon, many came to the village for his expertise and quality of work.
One day, while we were chatting about how far he had come, he became very serious. From his pocket, he produced a stone. The emotional energy behind the stone practically reverberated through the air. Astounded, I asked, "Where did you find this?"
Looking in my eyes, he stated, "Years ago, I took this rock from your front garden. It was going to be a souvenir from this village. I held on to it as a reminder of your charity. It gave me strength as I quit drinking. It inspired me as I was learning my trade. This simple rock has represented the friendship and kindness you've shown me for the first time in my life. Today I bring it to you to make a trade"
Before my eyes, the magic in the stone coalesced into a glorious mythral ring adorned with ferrin gemstones.
He got down on one knee saying, "I would like to exchange this ring for your hand in marriage."
\*Sorry about the formatting, I'm still kinda new to this\*
|
Her eyes then tighten into a glare. Her lips pull back just enough to show a sliver of white teeth. She's never been a beautiful woman, but there was an ugly sharpness, newly present in her features, then makes me stumble back.
"Where?!"
"My backyard. I just—"
"You get nothing. Nothing! Leave!"
I go to leave, as commanded, embarrassed by the whole thing. It was going to be a joke, a pebble for a feather, but somehow I had offended. Then my sense turned off, as it too often has.
"I'd like it back, then," I say with far too much confidence.
"What?" It's somewhere between a shocked whisper and a hiss, which is honestly impressive with the lack of sibilants in the word.
"If you aren't giving me anything for it, I want it back."
"What." The inquiry is done, no hiss, just anger. And yet I continue like the fool I am.
"I. Want. It. Back." See: fool.
"Do you even know what it is?"
"Something you've undervalued."
"Anyone every tell you that you are an idiot?"
"No one so much as myself."
"Fine, name a price."
"Power, fame, fortune. I want it all. I'll settle for the throne."
"For a pebble?"
"No. Not just a pebble. That pebble."
"You don't really want it back."
"No, I'd prefer a kingdom, but if that's not worth it to you..."
"I can't. I just..." She seems genuinely worried. I almost feel like dropping the whole thing, but I don't.
"How about true love? I hear that's a good one."
She stares at the pebble, turning it over in her hands. After maybe five seconds of what feels an eternity, I give a small cough. She snaps her attention to me.
"Power, fame, fortune, and love," she says with a grin. "Alright. It's a deal." The stone disappears into a pocket and she holds out a hand for me to shake, which I do without a second thought. Or even a first one. My gut says this was a bad choice, but then again, that's how all the best stories start.
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|
[WP] A witch asks people to bring her an object and she will grant you a desire of equal or less value to it. When you bring her a rock from your backyard, she stares at you with wide eyes and asks "Where did you find this?"
|
It was a good arrangement we had. I was allowed to live just outside the village and given needed amenities in exchange for my magical talents. However, these talents didn't come from nothing. I turned the raw emotional energy inherent in a person's belongings into the very spells and incantations I practiced.
I'd become so masterful of my art I could sense the very energy. A farmer could bring me his favorite pair of shoes, and I can use them to cure his daughter's fever. The local lord could bring me a family heirloom, and I could use it to repel flood waters from a blightful storm.
It was a fair life, but a lonely one. Sure, people would come by often, but it was always business. People who need something enough to rely on forces out of their understanding tend not to make the best conversation. Much of my time was spent studying my magic and providing for the village. That is until he came to my door.
He was drunk. I didn't recognize his face from the other villagers. He presented me with a shoe and asked to fill his flagon. He had drunk it in a few hearty gulps. When finished, he collapsed to the ground in a drunken stupor. He wasn't the first to come to my home and waste my power.
I had thought he'd be gone by the morning. To my surprise, he sat groggily at my stoop. He presented his other shoe for a cure to his hangover and a napkin for a loaf of bread. He stuck around for a while. He was a wandering vagrant who found himself at my doorstep after hearing word of me from the villagers.
I was a lucky find for him. He would give me small bits and baubles in exchange for food and drink. He stuck close by when he wasn't begging in the village. At first, it was an annoyance. He'd pester me about exchanging items, often trying to figure out how to get the most out of a trade. However, soon it became less of a pester and more about curiosity. After many questions about my magic, I made him a deal. A question for a question.
"How do you know how much power a thing has," he asked.
I answered, "Every object a person owns has a certain amount of personal attachment to it. The more attachment a person feels, the more potent spells I can cast."
Then I asked, "How'd you find yourself in your situation?"
He shrugged and said, "Never knew my pa. My ma and I were beggars until she died of consumption when I was young. Never learned a trade. Nobody would teach me."
"Why's that?" I asked curiously.
He shrugged, "Don't know. Guess no one wants a starving beggar as an apprentice."
He didn't ask another question. After several somber moments, a thought occurred to me. I made him an offer, "Quit drinking and begging from the villagers. In exchange, I'll find you an apprenticeship."
After some thought, he agreed. It was hard for him at first. I helped where I could. I'd cure his shakes in exchange for stories of his travels. After a month sober, I received business from the village blacksmith. He needed his shop expanded in exchange for a pair of his daughter's baby shoes. A made the deal with the blacksmith with the added request of taking on a new apprentice. With the expansion of his business, he generously accepted.
My friend worked very hard in his apprenticeship, but he always made time to stop by just to chat. I remember when he brought me his first creation, a crooked horseshoe. He wanted to exchange it for a lodging between my cabin and the smithy. The pride inherent in that twisted hunk of metal was more than enough to summon a cottage and some furnishing.
He continued to ask about my magic. He used what he learned at the forge, imbuing his emotions into his creations. His works improved as he learned to smith. His creations' qualities improved further as he practiced magic. The blacksmith never had any sons, and with the quality of the work, the choice of a successor was easy. Soon, many came to the village for his expertise and quality of work.
One day, while we were chatting about how far he had come, he became very serious. From his pocket, he produced a stone. The emotional energy behind the stone practically reverberated through the air. Astounded, I asked, "Where did you find this?"
Looking in my eyes, he stated, "Years ago, I took this rock from your front garden. It was going to be a souvenir from this village. I held on to it as a reminder of your charity. It gave me strength as I quit drinking. It inspired me as I was learning my trade. This simple rock has represented the friendship and kindness you've shown me for the first time in my life. Today I bring it to you to make a trade"
Before my eyes, the magic in the stone coalesced into a glorious mythral ring adorned with ferrin gemstones.
He got down on one knee saying, "I would like to exchange this ring for your hand in marriage."
\*Sorry about the formatting, I'm still kinda new to this\*
|
I shrugged. “sorry to disappoint. I don’t have much. I found it in my Backyard” I said hoping she’d take pity on me. Her eyebrows narrowed as she rushed me inside her little house.
It was a neat little home. Smelled of ginger and rosemary. On top of that books with spikes of different languages were piled on top of each other. Crystals a skulls arranged in color patterns. Drawers were overflowing with herbs and trinkets. As crowded as the room was it was relaxing. Every time I looked around I could find something new.
She skimmed through the books on her shelf. Using her finger as guide as she swiftly skimmed over the book spines. “Schveltsim VII l. Calcreute. Ah! Found it” She yelled.
Confusion filled my brain. It was just a regular rock. She seems really interested in it. The only thing unusual about it was the fact that it had white on it. And I’m quite sure that was bird poop.
She grabbed chalk and a few herbs a long with a necklace in the shape of a star. She laid a few candles out and lit one, throwing what looked like dried rose petals onto the flame. She used the candle to light the other ones. She drew a circle with a dot in the center. She put the necklace down then the rock on top. Her eyes tested up as she poured hot wax into the necklace then the rock. She set the rock on top of the necklace.
This was all new to me. I’m not one to participate in rituals. I so desperately wanted to leave. But I felt bad. Something In me told me she was crying for a good reason.
She changed a few words before the rock glowed. First a pale purple then into a baby blue. The glow turned black before the rock cracked slowly. Exposing white light. He witch smiled as tears rolled down her cheeks as something arose from the rock pieces.
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[WP] You and your roommates have a bet to see who can pull off the most illegal act and not get caught. You thought you secured the win after an elaborate graffiti project. However, one of your roommates shows up with a briefcase full of nuclear launch codes.
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"The fuck is that?"
My eyes, still a little watery from the 4 hours of spray-painting I had done to the sides of the school buses, rested upon the matte black briefcase in Harry's hand. It wasn't made of plastic. We could all tell it was heavy by the veins popping out of Harry's forearm.
Not 5 minutes earlier, every single person in the room had a devilish twinkle in their eyes. The braggadocios attitudes of my 2 other roommates were cute, but misplaced. I knew I would win the bet. Nobody else in our suite had the balls to outdo my display of criminality.
Or so I thought.
Harry, who still hadn't responded to my query, took a step into the room. His breathing was shaky, but not the same quivering that one normally gets after walking up the stairs to our floor. I sensed something much deeper than fatigue. We all could.
Fear.
"Harry. You're scaring us man, come on. Answer the question." I couldn't even tell which of my other two roommates spoke. I was staring at Harry, and he was staring right back. To say something felt "off" would be the understatement of the century. This was beyond "off." Harry had crossed a line somewhere, and nobody could tell to what extent. The silence in the room deepened; Harry's quavering breaths were all that remained.
"Harry." His pupils suddenly dilated as he inhaled a curt breath. Their focus seemed to fall onto the wall behind me. I turned and looked. The television, previously off, had turned on. As I started to walk towards the T.V, my phone buzzed. So did Harry's. We heard our Amazon Alexa turn on as well, ready to listen. And then, like a symphony from a nightmare, they all erupted into noise.
"*This is an emergency alert broadcast by the Secret Service of the United States of America. If you are receiving this broadcast, you are in a Class-1 quarantine zone. Property of the P.O.T.U.S. has been stolen. All citizens are asked to remain in their homes with the doors unlocked. Do not resist search or seizure, all Federal Agents are cleared to use lethal force."*
​
​
​
Silence.
Every eye in the room fell back onto Harry, who still hadn't moved. His breathing was quiet now. Had the situation been different, someone would have cracked a joke about the silence that had befallen us. Nobody said a word, though. The last thing I heard was a crash down the hallway, and the sound of heavy boots charging down the hall. There was no knock, no time to run. Harry's mouth finally opened, and two words escaped his lips.
"I won."
A flash of light.
A searing pain
and it was all over.
​
I guess I lose.
|
Don't we all have that little demon that just itches to get out from time to time? Well, thats me and my roommates in a nutshell. Theres Kelvin, he can pretty much get away with anything, as his father is the head officer in our city (Definitely a friend with a benefit), Hawkins, who once reset ALL clocks at our collage, meaning that the bells never rung, and Evan, who we don't exactly know to well, but we do know his father. Everyone knows his father. He works for the goverment, currently inspecting North Korea. We had to let him in, it was just too amazing that he wanted to be part of OUR group. And then there was me, an graffiti artist that people awed at. I could draw anything upon request, and always find the best unexpected places to deface.
Anywho, we have this bet every week, to use our "Talents" to do the most illegal crime. The winner gets nothing more than a pat on the back, and a great feel of acomplishment. We quickly put our own plans into action, I was going to do my most elaborate plan yet, drawing a illusion of a hole going into the mayor's office, so from above you would think it was caved in. I spent the week working hard on this project, and when I was done, I was ready to receive my pat on the back (Of course, so was the other guys) when even walks in. He's carrying a briefcase. I sensed something was wrong, and I calmly said to even "Hey, whats in the suitcase?" He looked at me with dead expression. He smiled, "Enough power to knock that korean scum off the face of the earth." He said, casually as if this happened every day. My heart started pounding... What if he got found out? What if he knew how to work it? I heard the doorbell ring, but before I could answer, he said "You don't want to do that." I froze, turned around, and he was pressing buttons from inside the briefcase, the other guys standing there in shock. Then it hit me. This must be his fathers, and nuclear war WAS in the news a lot.
All of a sudden the door came down, I turned my head only to get pepper sprayed. As I went down, I heard Evan say "Kaboom!" And laugh as he was gunned down by the most trained professionals In the country.
I couldn't breath, it was too much, and I blacked out.
After I was released from the hospital, days later, all i heard was chaos. North Korea was in ruin.
Evan killed a country, and it was all my fault.
I am the true terrorist here.
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|
[WP] There are fake towns and roads (known as "paper towns") that mapmakers put in their maps, so that if someone makes a map which has one of these paper towns, they could know it's a copy. You stumble on one of these "paper towns" and actually find a town there.
|
"It's actually a funny story" said the man from the town *that shouldn't exist*.
Billy and I had heard about these *phantom towns*, that existed only in name. They magically appeared on maps, no one being able to say where they came from... a feverish dream of the mapmaker, haunted by visions of the dead of ages past?
"Yeah, the cartographer for these parts, 'bout fifty years back, put in a fake town to catch lazy copies. Local tax board lost *their* map for redistricting purposes, just used his, and applied the whole small-town-no-taxes things to the county. Couple o' folks saw it as an easy tax dodge, moved here, town got built up for real, and... here we are."
"So no ghosts?"
"Nope. Just a copyright trap and a disorganized office."
"Aww..."
"Now, how'dju boys get all the way out here?"
"His dad drove us. He's got a real fancy car."
"Alright. Well, there's a couple nice diners down main street. One's called 'Ol Oak Diner'. Funny story 'bout that too. Guy who started the place wasn't up on trees, and the tree next to it is actually hickory, not oak. Good waffles though. You boys get home safe, alright?"
"Bye mister stranger man," as the boys traded their waves for the man's gentile smile. Disappointed by the lack of ghosts, they set out on their next adventure; finding a fancy car and a good waffle.
|
PAPER TOWNS
My head hurt... bad! I turned on the hot shower and as usual, the base of my skull began to mellow as the pain in my brow began swimming backwards down my scalp and back into my spine.
"Who the hell cares if the maps are copied", I muttered in exasperation. The pollin, ragweed, mold, smoke from South America, dust from Africa, Death and an army of murderous angels had invaded my sinuses.
I focused on the task I had been partially paid to complete. I had been approached at my usual haunt eating an apple fritter and drinking my coffee, black, light roast, by an odd man with a dark greasy aura that, for lack of a better understanding, didn't completely belong to him...? Anyhow, he wore black Jeans with a neutral colored button down shirt with about a gallon of English Leather cologne eminating from his being. The halitosis was undeniable and the altoids were a welcomed subtlety to the molding scenario. He had on circular shades with lenses about the size of a half dollar with a spooky clean, mirrored finish. He had an oddly triangular shaped briefcase that he clutched with both hands, the right one gloved, as he stood there with a smoky cheddar shit eating grin on his well groomed mustached face.
'A. Mephisto' was on the otherwise blank card he handed me. He spoke in a low, methodical Greek accent that resonated more than it sounded. He invited himself to the chair opposite me and placed his odd case on the bistro between us. It 'clicked' as he opened it and raised the lid prohibiting me from seeing inside. I didn't even move a lung... I sat there in suspense/terror as I witnessed a black smokey wisp pouring out of the cracked seem on the back right corner of the case. It began pooling around the corner of the briefcase and began 'falling back into itself' as the black became night and then pitch in color with an impeccable soft powdery luminescence radiant throughout. I heard the man hiss very loudly and the pooling mass retreated with clumsy abandon back through the crack into the case. I looked around in gut hugging horror as I realized the other people had... ... frozen... as if time had stopped in the cafe. He slammed the lid down on the case and plopped three scrolls down on top with his other hand.
"These maps are important to me", he began, one hand on the maps and the other on the handle of the case.
I began to open my mouth to say "ok", but he continued quickly in his raspy, low, snot in his throat voice.
"The same man made them, I am sure of it, but each map has a different name on it. Figure out which one was the real man. I uh, ...will be in touch."
He ended the piece with his shit eating grin.
I opened my mouth again to ask who, what, when, where, why and just how the hell was it decided that I was going to handle this, um... situation and he was gone. Yes! Like poof... and gone. I looked around in disbelief as the other patrons were in full animation again. The maps were on the other side of the table in a pyramid. I snatched them up after wiping everything, including my ******* coffee into my bag. I dashed out of there in a dripping mess and came home to study the maps. I had been looking at them for hours when I couldn't take the headache anymore.
I turned the handle ending the shower. As I dried off I started thinking about the locations and variations on the maps. Same map but different names with different and similar information. The map with the oldest date had an X in faded red ink on a town called Adder. The map with the second oldest date also had the town of Adder but no red X. The third map did not have the town or an X. It was to be on the Texarkana border, about 20 hours from the coast. I knew I was going, but I wasn't happy about it... who the hell is A. Mephisto and why me?
I grabbed my phone, keys and my toothbrush and headed out the door. I crashed into a blonde with pale green eyes and we tumbled to the ground...
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|
[WP] There are fake towns and roads (known as "paper towns") that mapmakers put in their maps, so that if someone makes a map which has one of these paper towns, they could know it's a copy. You stumble on one of these "paper towns" and actually find a town there.
|
"It's actually a funny story" said the man from the town *that shouldn't exist*.
Billy and I had heard about these *phantom towns*, that existed only in name. They magically appeared on maps, no one being able to say where they came from... a feverish dream of the mapmaker, haunted by visions of the dead of ages past?
"Yeah, the cartographer for these parts, 'bout fifty years back, put in a fake town to catch lazy copies. Local tax board lost *their* map for redistricting purposes, just used his, and applied the whole small-town-no-taxes things to the county. Couple o' folks saw it as an easy tax dodge, moved here, town got built up for real, and... here we are."
"So no ghosts?"
"Nope. Just a copyright trap and a disorganized office."
"Aww..."
"Now, how'dju boys get all the way out here?"
"His dad drove us. He's got a real fancy car."
"Alright. Well, there's a couple nice diners down main street. One's called 'Ol Oak Diner'. Funny story 'bout that too. Guy who started the place wasn't up on trees, and the tree next to it is actually hickory, not oak. Good waffles though. You boys get home safe, alright?"
"Bye mister stranger man," as the boys traded their waves for the man's gentile smile. Disappointed by the lack of ghosts, they set out on their next adventure; finding a fancy car and a good waffle.
|
I've seen it all.
Throughout the course of my life, I've been to a lot of places. And when I say a lot, I mean *a lot*.
You see, I'm an explorer. It's just what I do. It's just what I enjoy the most. For the entire first part of my life, I’d lived in a city. Large. Busy. Cramped. There was never really enough room to move around.
Back then, I didn't mind that though. Or, I suppose I did mind it, but I never had understanding enough to do something about it. So, even cramped in my industrial walls, I did what I was told. I went to school. I got into a good state university. I got a good manufacturing job just like the one my dad had had when I was a kid.
But going through all of that never felt right. Maybe it's because I was born with an overactive imagination, or maybe I just have a free spirit or something. I don't pretend to know the causes of my whims. All I *do* know was that for the first part of my life, I was unhappy.
When I was a child, it was easy not to notice. It was easy to pass off as 'just a phase' when I ended up throwing a standardized test away just so that I wouldn't have to be trapped in a room for more hours than necessary. But as I grew older, I realized it more and more, and after I became a factory worker like my dad had been, it all fell apart.
You see, there's just something about staring at the same assembly line, surrounded by the same metal walls, and doing the same exact task over and over that makes you realize exactly what is going wrong. It did for me, at least.
After being confined to what basically amounted to a metal prison I got paid to waste away in, I became tired of living in my own head. I became tired of thinking, of dreaming up my own adventures when I could've been having them for real.
And so I quit. Looking back on it now, I'm not too proud of the way I handled it with my parents, but I know better than to wish I could change the past. I took out all the precious money I'd worked for my entire life, bought adventuring supplies, and gave the rest of the money to charity.
It would be a lie to say that that last thing didn't make me feel a bit better.
Since then, I've been traveling the country. Coming out of a place where all I'd known were highways and skyscrapers, the rural world took my imagination by storm, and I took it the same way. On my first trip out, I hitch-hiked my way all the way across the contiguous United States and loved every single minute of it.
Of course, at times I had to work an odd-job or two just to make enough money for food and basic utilities, but in the grand scheme, it didn't matter. For the first time in my life, I was free and loving life.
Though, after traveling the world—or more accurately, just the US and part of its northern neighbor—I needed something new. That's when I started chasing the unicorns.
What may sound crazy to some—and probably is to anybody who hasn't spent the last five years of their life hauling their way through the bumfuck nowheres of bumfuck nowhere—proved to be my best idea yet.
You see, after having been to every town and city I could find on a map, I needed something new. So, I started chasing the towns that weren't even actually there.
From my time in the industrial hell that was my home town, I knew what a paper town was. I must've learned it in one of my history classes, or literature, or law, or something else I care too little about now to remember. The point is that no matter where I got the information from, it stuck with me. I mean, how could it not? Towns listed on the map but that didn't actually exist? For an explorer like me, chasing those is like chasing a goddamned unicorn.
Now do you get the metaphor I made earlier?
Anyway, ever since I started on my new quest, I've been to over a dozen paper towns. Each one of them is just like advertised, a blank field or a barren road with no houses or stores anywhere to be found. At the start, the lack of any sign of civilization at all was discomforting, but I grew to enjoy it.
Even still, though, I chase the anomaly among anomalies. I chase the cardboard town—the paper town that really exists.
And I think I'm on my way to one right now.
The wooden buildings roll into my view as I walk up the hill. My legs burn and I can feel sweat trickling uncomfortably down my back; I don't pay either much attention. My mind is far too captured by the impossibility in front of me.
As I walk up to the rural town's only road, I take the map out of my pocket. Staring at exactly where I'm sure that I am, my finger falls on the name of the town that's supposed to be a ghost.
*Error City*
For a moment, I wonder whether or not I'm really in the right place. But as I amble into the calm center of the town, I see the name reflected all around. On the shops, on the signs, even engraved into a statue in town square.
So I've found it, I think to myself as I continue to walk around.
Some part of me is happy, absolutely jumping with joy, but the other part is disappointed. To be honest, I'm not sure what I expected when I finally came across a paper town that really existed, but whatever it was... it hadn't been this.
Sighing and resigning myself to the unfortunate truth, I slip into the closest building I can find. It happens to be a stable, but I don't mind all that much. After being on the road for years, I probably enjoyed the company of animals as much as I did humans.
However, when I make my way into the horses stables, searching for a comfortable spot of straw to lay down for some rest, I'm met with an unusual sight.
A sight that makes everything about this place worth it.
At the end of the row, following a whole lot of normal horses, is one in magnificent white. And on top of its head—I swear to god you probably wouldn't believe me—is a glittering horn that tells me exactly what it is.
And as I stare at the thing, my jaw nearly drops to the floor. Really, I can only think one thing.
I guess I hadn't seen it all after all.
---
/r/Palmerranian
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[WP] Captain CPR: A superhero who thought his ability was to revive anyone no matter how close to death they are, but today he realizes that his CPR can revive anything. ANYTHING.
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Yesterday was the first time I tried CPR on something other than a human. I remember the day my life changed, and possibly billions of others. The day I got so drunk, I revived a tree.
That day, after saving a man’s life, he asked if I wanted to go to the local club. I accepted, and we had a fun time. He invited a few friends, I invited some of mine. I took drink after drink. Until my mind was fuzzy, my vision hazy, my hearing muffled, and my body heavy.
When I walked out, I was barely able to tell the difference between the sidewalk and the road. I mistook a fallen branch from a tree for a man. And I gave it CPR, and a new tree stood where the branch had lay. When I woke up the next morning, I realized what I had done.
The day before that news came that climate change had escalated to the point of no return. The earth had no hope. Evacuations were happening, but because of how few ships to outer space there are caused people to get competitive. That’s how I had met the man, he had gotten beaten up and then trampled on when attempting to get on a ship.
When I realized I could bring not only humans to life, but nonliving things as well, I wondered if I could resuscitate the Earth. Bring it back to it’s former glory.
That was what I planned to do today. I might be humanities last hope. I might be able to save billions from death. I just have to perform CPR on the Earth. I hope to god and all those watching, that this works.I hope for me, I hope for my children and my wife, and I hope for the billions to poor to take a oneway ticket to space.
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Visit r/Just_Imagine for more, and please critique my work.
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"EVERYONE RUN!" CPR shouts as a loud roar rang out behind him. Screams filled the air as the diggers scrambled for safety.
"I told you to tie your shoelaces." Dr.Grant shouted as he ran passed.
"Well, how was I supposed to know my powers worked on fossils?!" CPR shouted back, before taking shelter in a small ravine.
Charles Prescott Rélle huddled down against the side of the revine. He shuddered as the T Rex's droll fell with a splat against his back. He looked up only to see steak knives sized teeth descending towards him. "Well, go enough time to see if that immortality theory the Scientist theorized is correct." He thought as the teeth closed around him.
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[WP] "Hey John, can you pass the wrench?" A hand made from ethereal shadow phases through the floor next to you, tool in hand.
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"Hey John, could you get me my car keys real quick?", I asked, despite being the only person in the living room.
Nonetheless, a cheerful "Sure thing, man!" answered, just as an arm, made of black mist and shadows, slipped through the wall in front of me, keys in hand.
“Thanks, John. You’ve always liked playing fetch, haven’t you?” I played around with the keys a bit, then put them in my pocket.
“Nah, not really, man. I always thought you were a clumsy dumbass, and brought your stuff back to you ‘cuz of that. Guess I wasn’t too wrong.” the voice came from inside the wall.
I sighed. “John. Ok. You’ve got a point. You’ve got a point and I have feelings that are easily hurt by pointy things. In other words, fuck you, dude.”
The voice - John - laughed. The sound of shaking a coin-filled tin can. Terrible sound, but you grow used to it. Kinda.
In case anyone is wondering, - which I’m sure nobody is, considering I’m narrating within the confines of my mind - John is, was, used to be my dog.
I know what you’re thinking right now. Yes, I really do know, stop questioning my psychic abilities. You’re thinking “Who the actual fuck names their dog John?!”, right? Well, not me. Terrible name for a pet. Terrible name for anything, really. I pity all the Johns out there. I’m sorry for you all. Really am.
So, why do I torture my former pet by calling it by such a terrible name if it isn’t even its own?
Because he likes it, and because, apparently, John is a better name than Waffles.
In other words, because he has no sense for good names. Poor him.
He’s a good guy though. Always was.
The goodest boy.
Hah.
Don’t tell him I said that. He’ll bite me. Or try to, with his shadowy, mist-like mouth that will just slide right through me. But it still feels uncomfortable. Chilly. Great in summer.
But I digress. You want to know why John is… well, John, right?
Short answer: No clue.
Longer answer: Waffles died, but kinda didn’t, and now we’re here.
I also don’t know what that means. Neither does John.
But, well. It’s not all that bad. It’s weird, sure. I kinda pissed my pants when I saw John leave Waffles’, leave his corpse, sure. I still piss my pants when I see him at night, also sure. But dogs are man’s best friend, and that apparently stays true post-mortem. Best friend I could ever have wished for.
If I ignore the name.
Gotta ignore the name.
No, seriously. Despite being a John, he rocks. Best gaming buddy ever. Even better drinking buddy. He’d be one hell of a wingman, if he wasn’t so terrifying to look at. He probably looks like one of Lovecraft’s eldritch horrors. An ordinary mortal such as I can’t comprehend his form. Right, that’s it. It’s not like I’m just scared of ghosts. Totally not that.
Ah, anyways. We’re both clueless about the situation. Just kinda rolling with it, you know?
It’s working well, so far.
Kinda.
I think.
John doesn’t. Not really.
He doesn’t mind the situation, but he kinda wants to move on, you know? Go to doggy heaven or whatever. Chase dem divine squirrels, you know?
Problem is: We’re both clueless about the situation. Completely so.
I mean, look, neither of us have done this whole “passing on” thing before. Google doesn’t have really help either.
Trust me.
We tried.
Everything from exorcism to trying to figure out any lingering regrets the mutt might have.
No results. John said “I don’t regret nothing, man!”, and that was that.
So, we are drawing a blank.
So we just roll with it, and we keep on rolling.
Not much else to do.
I do feel bad for John though.
This whole “being a spiritual entity” thing is wearing him down. I can see it in his eyes.
Or I could, if he had any.
No, really though. It’s wearing him down. I can tell. He can, too. Of course he can.
His time like this is limited, we both know this. We don’t mention it though. We can’t mention it. As long as it isn’t out there, it’s not real. That’s how this works, right? Right.
So we keep it inside. And we roll with it. We roll, and roll, and keep on rolling, until we cause a landslide.
‘Cuz that’s how we roll.
But we know. We know, and it eats away at us. Eats away with every passing second.
Tick.
Tock.
It’s already eaten away too much. Devoured too much of my insides. It’s hollowed me out.
But I roll with it. Roll, roll, roll, and roll.
We keep up a facade. Pretend everything is right. But we know it ain’t. It ain’t right, but we still pretend.
Because that’s how we roll.
Tick.
Tock.
Just like that, time is running out. Has run out? I don’t know. I don’t think about it.
Because that’s how I roll.
Tick.
Tock.
I just keep stepping on the gas. No need to think. Just step down. Keep driving, straight ahead.
Because that’s how I’ll roll.
Tick.
Tock.
Straight ahead, right through the guard rail,
And now I roll. Down, down, down I roll.
Tick.
Tock.
The beer bottles in my car roll along.
Roll, roll, around they roll.
Tick.
Tock.
My clock stopped ticking.
Because that’s how things roll.
No tick.
No tock.
End of my time.
No tick.
No tock.
End of the line.
No tick.
No tock.
.
.
.
Just… Goodbye.
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“Hey John, can you pass the wrench?”
John’s shadowy arm hands me the three foot long wrench as though it were made of styrofoam.
Without his supernatural strength I strain as it drops in to my hands. I raise it over my head while John’s featureless face passes back in to whatever void he issues from followed by his hand.
As the wrench falls I think of whether the men who made it knew it would have uses other than adjusting the tracks on heavy machinery. I also wonder where John goes and whether his body is shambling out there with all the others.
My revelry is broken as the wrench makes gooey paste out of the skull of the zombie who had gotten past our firing line.
“Thank you John,” I say pleasantly as I chamber another round and return to the day’s work.
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[WP] "Hey John, can you pass the wrench?" A hand made from ethereal shadow phases through the floor next to you, tool in hand.
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I smile and take the wrench from his hand. "Thanks, John."
I set to work tightening the bolt on the car's undercarriage. Car mechanics was something I'd studied my whole life, and I always liked to think that I was exceptional at it by myself. John and I just worked better as a team.
And it was definitely fun to see customers' amazement at how quickly I could finish the job, even if the damage was severe. It was our little secret, and I just hoped it would stay that way.
I rolled out from under the car and gave its hood a pat. Another job well done.
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Your initial reaction was to freak out when the hand of what you thought was a demon tried to hand you a wrench. But as the hand rose up, a familiar, albeit darker and a bit transparent, form appeared.
It was then you remembered your greatest freind and coworker, John, has been dead for almost two weeks. He had been shot in his apartment, still no lead on his killer.
"John? How?"
"Hey, Jack. It's like I said that one time. I'll help you no matter what, but you probably weren't expecting this"
"Of course not! That term's used by almost everyone, and almost no one means they'll return from death to hand their buddy the tool they need!"
"Well, I suppose you'll want an explanation. The short version is I used to be involved with an underground cult that I left when I realized what they were doing was not just seeking immortality and reported them to the police. One of the cult members was not caught and decided to kill me for ruining them."
"And that is why you can come back?"
"Yes."
"But why did you?"
"It's like I said. I'll help you no matter what." John said, setting the tool on the table and beginning to fade. "But the reason I will is much more complicated. I'm out of time, but basically your father's real name is Zagrius."
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[WP] "Hey John, can you pass the wrench?" A hand made from ethereal shadow phases through the floor next to you, tool in hand.
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John had always been around, for as long as Jack could remember. He always helped jack out when he needed it. As a mechanic, it was quite helpful. Having a demon when you need him.
When jack was little, John wouldn't show himself in front of Jack's family so they treated him as an imaginary friend. But the drawings of him freaked them out and Jack was told to stop. He never thought John looked evil, it might be because he'd always been with him, but his black scaly skin, razor-sharp teeth and red eyes don't say anything about how kind he was to him.
A pit of darkness opened up in the floor and John's hand rose out of it and grabbed the wrench that Jack asked for.
"Here's your wrench, Jack." John held it towards him. "You thinkin' about the past again, Jacky boy?"
"It's... It's just that I wish my family would believe in me, believe in you."
"You can't help the Christian masses who would sooner throw out their ability to believe rather than face the truth. And if they did believe, they'd exorcise me the first chance they'd get."
"I know, but you're not a bad demon."
"That's right, Jacky boy. I'm not."
A black SUV pulled up into the shop and John disappeared back through the darkness. Two men jumped out and walked towards the car Jack was working on. Jack slid out from the car and wiped the grease onto his overalls.
A man in his forties or early fifties stood alongside a younger gentleman. They both wore dark suits and had a formal air about them.
"I'm afraid the shop's full, today boys. If you book in tomorrow, I should have a space for you in the evening." Jack held out his arms apologetically.
"Jack Mc'Graw?" The older man spoke.
"Yes, it says that on my badge here. You're not here for a tune-up?"
"No, where's John?"
"John? I don't have any coworkers by the name of John."
"Don't play smart with me, boy. You're in over your head with this one. Hand him over and-"
Darkness opened up under the older fellow and swallowed him whole. Blood sprayed out and covered Jack and the other man.
"Sorry, Jacky boy. I really did want to be good." John rose out of the pit and blood dripped from his body.
"Get the lights!" The man in the black suit yelled into his wrist and two more SUVs pulled up.
Four men out of each vehicle and brought out large lights and a generator. The younger man pulled out a pistol and fired a clip into the demon. John moved closer and lifted the younger gentleman up and tore him in half.
"Light him up!" A man pulled a cord on the generator and it hummed.
John crept closer to the men with their lights and the cord was pulled again. The distance was closing in on them.
"John, stop! You don't have to do this." Jack stepped forward one step at a time.
"If I don't, they'll kill you, and me, Jacky."
"But..."
John turned away. The cord was pulled again and the generator roared to life. The lights emitted a golden glow that illuminated every corner of the shop. The demon's flesh caught alight and a deep scream filled the air.
The bulbs from all the lights exploded and the shop was left in darkness. The men in suits turned on flashlights and one by one, a flashlight dropped to the ground and a gut churning craking and tearing noise followed them.
Silence filled the air and Jack turned on the light to his phone. John stood before him, mangled and broken. His flesh was rendered from his body and his breathing was course.
"John, what can I do for you? How can I help?" Jack's eyes watered.
"To recover from all this, I'd need your life."
"Then take it. Just do it, all I have is my shop and you. If I lost you, my life just wouldn't be the same."
"No, Jacky boy. I moved to another country and used your spare life force to only just survive. It would never have hurt you, or shortened your life. I just wanted to keep being happy with you, Jacky. I'm not going to end the life of someone who let me see that life was more than bringing about chaos and death. Goodbye, Jacky boy. Find a mate or someone else to live your life with."
John hugged his demon friend. His only friend, as he turned to dust.
"I'll live my life the best I can, John."
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Your initial reaction was to freak out when the hand of what you thought was a demon tried to hand you a wrench. But as the hand rose up, a familiar, albeit darker and a bit transparent, form appeared.
It was then you remembered your greatest freind and coworker, John, has been dead for almost two weeks. He had been shot in his apartment, still no lead on his killer.
"John? How?"
"Hey, Jack. It's like I said that one time. I'll help you no matter what, but you probably weren't expecting this"
"Of course not! That term's used by almost everyone, and almost no one means they'll return from death to hand their buddy the tool they need!"
"Well, I suppose you'll want an explanation. The short version is I used to be involved with an underground cult that I left when I realized what they were doing was not just seeking immortality and reported them to the police. One of the cult members was not caught and decided to kill me for ruining them."
"And that is why you can come back?"
"Yes."
"But why did you?"
"It's like I said. I'll help you no matter what." John said, setting the tool on the table and beginning to fade. "But the reason I will is much more complicated. I'm out of time, but basically your father's real name is Zagrius."
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Death comes for everyone and everything.
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[WP] Armageddon complete, one of the Four Horsemen turns to the other three. Without humanity to war, starve, or pollute; it is finally time for War, Famine, & Pestilence to themselves face Death.
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War looked up at me. It was chilling. Since he was born, he'd existed in a bloody rage. Now, he couldn't be calmer. He was smiling, his eyes hooded and sleepy. Soot and ash in his hair, blood spattered over his face, and a casual smile...surreal. "Are you ready, Uriel?"
War nodded. "I'm ready, brother. I've had my fill, I've had my fun. It's been an honor and a pleasure riding out alongside you."
I chewed the inside of my lip as I raised my scythe. "No, brother," I whispered. "The honor was mine." I wouldn't argue the pleasure, but seeing him at peace was worth it.
*Swing.* Uriel's body evaporated as his essence rose. His blood sizzled on my scythe for a few moments as I turned to Famine.
Again, I had to compose myself. Sarathiel was already on his knees, waiting expectantly. "Are...are you ready?"
A curt nod. His sallow, sunken features were satisfied. Fulfilled. "Take me, brother. My job is done."
I couldn't believe I was doing this. We were not much younger than time itself. Born moments after Adam took the offered fruit, we entered Heaven as sin entered the world. I raised my scythe and murmured, "Be at peace, brother."
*Swing.*
Pestilence was last. "Stand," I told her, letting the tears flow at last. I know not whether they were tears of grief, or of fear, or of guilt. I was simply exhausted. Kushiel understood. We embraced, and I began in earnest to sob. What came next, we knew, was not death as the mortals experienced it, but the beginning of something so new and awesome that we could not fully imagine it. For a time we wept. With Kushiel I felt I could weep--so often we'd cried together after plagues and the like. She hated her job like I hated mine, though we were honored above most to have them.
"I am ready, Samael," she whispered.
"I am not," I replied.
We stood for a time longer, then I raised my scythe to the back of her neck. A sharp enough tug would behead us both. "I am ready, sister."
"Then do it."
I did.
And then, there was Light.
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We take turns looking at the motorcycle coming our way.
“Well—War. It’s been an honour working with you. Maybe I’ll see you in the underworld.”
“You, too, Famine.” War clenches his hands and pats me on the shoulder. The motorcycle grew closer.
“We all knew this would happen. We just didn’t want to—“ Pestilence coughs “—want to accept it. I suppose Satan played us all. Except for—“ cough cough “—Death.”
“I think you’re right.” War says. I look at the stores to our right. The only gas station for miles in this desert. Now it’s just an ancient ruin. No one will see it anymore.
“Well, we succeeded.” Pestilence smiles a grim smile and shrugs.
“I guess.” She coughs again. “Oh well. I’ve enjoyed my millennia with you two. Hope you guys end up with each other in the underworld. I’ll put a recommendation in for you—War—for other future battles.”
Death rides quickly toward us and skids to a stop. My jaw clenches. War squeezes my hand.
“Someone order a pizza?” He chuckles.
“Just kill us already, Death!” Pestilence groans.
“Gosh you sound like a depressed fifteen year old. Someone’s been on 2meirl4meirl!” He laughs a dry laugh as dust comes out of his skull face.
“Not funny.” I mutter.
Pestilence steps forward.
“Have fun in Personal Relations!” I call it to her as Death raises his gun and BAM!
Next is War. I kiss him on the cheek as he walks over to Death, as well. BAM!
I walk forward and close my eyes. Death opens up his gun.
“Aww, crap man. I’m outta bullets.” He laughs hysterically. I’ve never liked Death. He’s super annoying.
“So?”
“Haha! So looks like we’re stuck here.”
“Wait how would you have gone back?” I look at the ash piles of my friends.
“I wasn’t going to. You know I’m an introvert! Haha, Satan promised me a mansion about a couple miles that way. I was going to stay there for eternity until new humans evolved.” He shoots me a grin and then hops on his motorcycle.
“You can’t just leave me!”
“Yes, I can. Smell ya later, sweetie.”
My stomach growls. Death and Famine are still on the earth, I guess. But War and Pestilence aren’t. Huh. Who would’ve thought?
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Death comes for everyone and everything.
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[WP] Armageddon complete, one of the Four Horsemen turns to the other three. Without humanity to war, starve, or pollute; it is finally time for War, Famine, & Pestilence to themselves face Death.
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"Best two out of three?" asked Pestulence with a nervous grin, sullied only by his crooked and wormy grin.
"This isn't a bar bet," scoffed Death. "Creation is over. It's done."
"Why not," interjected War, adding "we fight for our freedom?" Already his eyes were glowing red hot with the flames of war, his heart pounding like a battle drum beaten by a battle-worn soldier waiting for the word to attack.
"Freedom to where?" asked Death. "You seem to be missing the part where the world is over. Your services are no longer required."
"Yo," said Famine, "Anyone else hungry? I could go for some shawarma before we die."
The four horsemen sat in silence on the backs of their demon horses who trotted back and forth impatiently.
"Well," Death said with a long sigh. "Fine."
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We take turns looking at the motorcycle coming our way.
“Well—War. It’s been an honour working with you. Maybe I’ll see you in the underworld.”
“You, too, Famine.” War clenches his hands and pats me on the shoulder. The motorcycle grew closer.
“We all knew this would happen. We just didn’t want to—“ Pestilence coughs “—want to accept it. I suppose Satan played us all. Except for—“ cough cough “—Death.”
“I think you’re right.” War says. I look at the stores to our right. The only gas station for miles in this desert. Now it’s just an ancient ruin. No one will see it anymore.
“Well, we succeeded.” Pestilence smiles a grim smile and shrugs.
“I guess.” She coughs again. “Oh well. I’ve enjoyed my millennia with you two. Hope you guys end up with each other in the underworld. I’ll put a recommendation in for you—War—for other future battles.”
Death rides quickly toward us and skids to a stop. My jaw clenches. War squeezes my hand.
“Someone order a pizza?” He chuckles.
“Just kill us already, Death!” Pestilence groans.
“Gosh you sound like a depressed fifteen year old. Someone’s been on 2meirl4meirl!” He laughs a dry laugh as dust comes out of his skull face.
“Not funny.” I mutter.
Pestilence steps forward.
“Have fun in Personal Relations!” I call it to her as Death raises his gun and BAM!
Next is War. I kiss him on the cheek as he walks over to Death, as well. BAM!
I walk forward and close my eyes. Death opens up his gun.
“Aww, crap man. I’m outta bullets.” He laughs hysterically. I’ve never liked Death. He’s super annoying.
“So?”
“Haha! So looks like we’re stuck here.”
“Wait how would you have gone back?” I look at the ash piles of my friends.
“I wasn’t going to. You know I’m an introvert! Haha, Satan promised me a mansion about a couple miles that way. I was going to stay there for eternity until new humans evolved.” He shoots me a grin and then hops on his motorcycle.
“You can’t just leave me!”
“Yes, I can. Smell ya later, sweetie.”
My stomach growls. Death and Famine are still on the earth, I guess. But War and Pestilence aren’t. Huh. Who would’ve thought?
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Death comes for everyone and everything.
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[WP] Armageddon complete, one of the Four Horsemen turns to the other three. Without humanity to war, starve, or pollute; it is finally time for War, Famine, & Pestilence to themselves face Death.
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War opened her eyes. The landscape was desolate, a stark change from what it had been when she and her Siblings had been released. Tellus, Earth as the local mortals had called it, was no more. Its once green foliage and azure oceans had been wiped clean. All that remained was the hot furnaces spewing fire and brimstone into the air and the hardened black surfaces she and her two sisters stood on. The final alter towered above them, a black pyramid with a flat top. Its only background was the red star Sol, once the yellow jewel of the system. Twenty One enormous obsidian stairs flanked by columns at every level led to the top. While they had once climbed the first seven of those stairs with ease in their early days, their reduction in power now meant they could not even climb the first.
She turned to look at them, the Two who stood a short ways from her. Famine still had a touch of her power. All she needed was hunger to maintain herself, and as War had not fought in what seemed to be centuries Famine had found a minuscule amount of energy to harvest in her own Sister. She continued to fiddle with her scales, stopping to glance at War occasionally or feign concern over her black beast of a mount. Not that any of their steeds needed food or water, or were even alive for that matter. Their sustenance was the same as their Harbinger's. Famine's only interest now would be to stay near War, her last available form of sustenance.
Pestilence was a different story. With no living creature left in the universe, she had no crops to devour. There was no water to taint, nor organism to infect. Her bow and quiver sat silently on the ground by her knees, and she had not summoned her steed in over a millennia. Time had not been kind to Pestilence, but she could not leave this existence yet. She was too weak to call out as she once had, screaming for relief. For the only one who could wipe her from this plane.
For their Brother.
It had been a true millennia ago since War had seen him. Once they had begun the tempest of the Apocalypse in earnest, two other sides had sought to intervene and save the mortals. Heaven and Hell, two sides of the same coin, had sought to stop them. Angels and Fallen Angles, Seraphim and Cherubim, Demons and Nephilim entered the field seeking to protect the Father's creation they relied on. But in entering the mortal plane, those Beings had both weakened and exposed themselves to the Harbingers. Pestilence took particular delight in reducing immortal beings to sobbing piles of flesh. Infection by deadly disease was not pretty, but being unable to die from it was horrific. The battles between the Harbingers and the rest of existence also empowered War. Gosh were those the days, so steeped in power was she that no being wanted to face her. The screams of Angels and Demons soon joined the cries of Mortals. But no cry or prayer for salvation could save them. Eventually their remains were strewn side by side throughout the planet.
The last to three to fall of the Tellus campaign, a mortal, Satan, and the Son, rested beneath the obsidian alter. The surviving immortals fled to the stars, and as life began to depart the world, so too did they as Harbingers. Their steeds would ferry them across the void, seeking other existences in the universe to consume. Hunting the remaining immortals. Feeding their power. As time passed, however, their brother would force them to return, one by one, to Tellus. To live at the altar. His power had grown, and as they gazed up into the void they had once so easily traveled, the pinpricks of light they had galloped past began to wink out. Then Sol, the last light in the sky, was extinguished.
All that remained was darkness, and the fires of Tellus.
And finally, He returned.
Death, the Last Horseman, their Brother, stood before them. She had not even seen or sensed his coming. He and his steed towered above them, indicative of the overwhelming power he now possessed. His black robe consumed light around him, but his scythe was nowhere to been seen. She tried to meet his gaze, but his eyes made her sick. They were immensely deep, black orbs ringed in white. She felt like nothing could escape them. War wanted to unsheathe her sword, to have one final battle, the final struggle she had been awaiting. But gazing up at him now, she knew he would swat her aside as she had done others at the height of her power. She was nothing now.
He passed between War and Famine, beckoning them to follow. He approached Pestilence, lifting her from the ground and cradled her in his arms. And then he stood on the first step of the altar. A surge of power left Death, dispersing through the obsidian alter. Pestilence's eyes flew open, her eyes shining with white light. Her body became ringed with it, glowing in the darkness. Death dropped her, but as War was about to cry out, Pestilence hovered, suspended by some power above the single stair. Death turned to his sister,
"Are you ready?"
He gave her no time to reply as he abruptly ascended to the second stair. War was immediately engulfed in another surge of power. She slowly rose into the air, her back arched, arms extended diagonally downwards and legs slightly overlapping. Red light began to surround her as she slowly began to hover. The light coursed through her, finally surging one last time and igniting her eyes with red light, shining out as they once had during her height. Her glory was restored, but as she had no knowledge of what was happening, she asked,
"Brother, what is this? What is happening"
"This is the beginning." He replied, "This is the beginning, of the End."
|
We take turns looking at the motorcycle coming our way.
“Well—War. It’s been an honour working with you. Maybe I’ll see you in the underworld.”
“You, too, Famine.” War clenches his hands and pats me on the shoulder. The motorcycle grew closer.
“We all knew this would happen. We just didn’t want to—“ Pestilence coughs “—want to accept it. I suppose Satan played us all. Except for—“ cough cough “—Death.”
“I think you’re right.” War says. I look at the stores to our right. The only gas station for miles in this desert. Now it’s just an ancient ruin. No one will see it anymore.
“Well, we succeeded.” Pestilence smiles a grim smile and shrugs.
“I guess.” She coughs again. “Oh well. I’ve enjoyed my millennia with you two. Hope you guys end up with each other in the underworld. I’ll put a recommendation in for you—War—for other future battles.”
Death rides quickly toward us and skids to a stop. My jaw clenches. War squeezes my hand.
“Someone order a pizza?” He chuckles.
“Just kill us already, Death!” Pestilence groans.
“Gosh you sound like a depressed fifteen year old. Someone’s been on 2meirl4meirl!” He laughs a dry laugh as dust comes out of his skull face.
“Not funny.” I mutter.
Pestilence steps forward.
“Have fun in Personal Relations!” I call it to her as Death raises his gun and BAM!
Next is War. I kiss him on the cheek as he walks over to Death, as well. BAM!
I walk forward and close my eyes. Death opens up his gun.
“Aww, crap man. I’m outta bullets.” He laughs hysterically. I’ve never liked Death. He’s super annoying.
“So?”
“Haha! So looks like we’re stuck here.”
“Wait how would you have gone back?” I look at the ash piles of my friends.
“I wasn’t going to. You know I’m an introvert! Haha, Satan promised me a mansion about a couple miles that way. I was going to stay there for eternity until new humans evolved.” He shoots me a grin and then hops on his motorcycle.
“You can’t just leave me!”
“Yes, I can. Smell ya later, sweetie.”
My stomach growls. Death and Famine are still on the earth, I guess. But War and Pestilence aren’t. Huh. Who would’ve thought?
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[WP] Upon entering a "magic" school, you gradually realize you are the only capable of performing real magic. Everyone else are absolutely fakers.
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Royal Blue, the ivy league of magic schools, rested flatly on the plane of desert. The sand extended for miles, and the vision would blur upon looking. The sun shone hard on the winning Royal Blue slopetops -- they gleamed effortlessly. What winning architecture, I thought, does tradition justice.
In my mind, the school stands thus.
In my mind, I declare it needless to destroy. My reverence for it shall remain intact. Though, would you blame me? If say I had destroyed it? This institution? It is false, totally phoney. Okay no, the teachers do their best, but the student body is I mean. Not talented.
To think no one could actually make a spell, I mean, a real original spell. Now that's magic!agic subsists on practice, genuinity, honor. The recognition of good work.
I was, turns out, the only one. Dumbledizzy told me I was brilliant.
... Said the rest didn't know. "They'd be jealous of you," he said, and at that moment I got real tired.
It's a burden.
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I think I started to notice when everyone else's familiar seemed to be an absolute idiot.
My cat familiar, Voidwalker (she picked the name), absolutely hated the other animals there. Every other cat she deemed brainless. I disregarded her claims, but I found them odd- at home she was very sweet. Here she only liked me.
My second tip-off was during an illusionary class. I've never been the best caster in my family, I'll admit, but even my teacher seemed impressed. Maybe she wasn't used to it, on second thought- i swear, I saw a student slip his mouse into his hat when he made it vanish.
My third tip was hanging out in the dorms after my first day. I sat with VW on an armchair, lookinf at something, when I heard a couple kids come through. They were chatting over how they hod their small animals- up sleeves, in hats, any way other than literally making the poor creature vanish into thin air. I remember giving a sign and leaving, but I was stopped by one of the kids. He asked how I did it!
I remember I stared at him for a moment, bewildered, before moving back out and starting to the head of the dorm's office. I wanted to clear something up, damnit.
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[WP] When you were a child a strange little man gave you a beautiful gold and silver pocket watch with the image of a serpent eating its own tail etched into it, now nearly a century later as you lay on you death bed the same strange little man appears to take the watch back, whispering "Thank you".
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Sam stretched out his eager hand.
One. Two. Three. Four. Four quarters were placed one by one as he counted. Sam smiled as far as his face would allow and placed the coins in his t-shirt breast pocket.
"You get your treat and come right back, ok?" his mom ordered and pleaded with a tone of authoritativeness mixed with anxiety.
"I know," he said and nearly broke into a run to the front door. His mother yelled out another command to stick to the crosswalk but was cut off by the slam of the screen door.
His first time allowed to the store alone! His first sense of freedom, after countless begging, pleading, and demanding, he was allowed!
However, the sun was HOT! The entire trip to crosswalk would be under the punishing summer sun while the trees lining the other side of the main street covered the entire way to the store with an inviting, cool shade.
Without breaking his stride, Sam skipped across the toward the cool shade.
The only thing Sam heard was the screech of tires against the sizzling pavement as a car fishtailed onto the street. Then came a hard yank as a hand not larger than his own clutched his wrist and wrenched him onto the shaded sidewalk.
"Didn't even see ya! Bet he woulda kept goin' even if he clobbered ya!" Said a very small and very fat man. "Yer lucky I'm here, but that's how it always goes."
Sam, still processing the events of the last five seconds, reached to his now empty pocket. "My treat..." he managed to whisper.
"Ah yeah," the man pointed to the now busy street where the gleaming quarters were scattered. "Wouldn't chance getting 'em now if I were you."
Sam finally looked at his savior and grasped what had just happened. The short, fat man, not much taller than him, wearing a grey fedora and matching trench coat, reached again reached for Sam to help him up. It was so hot, yet the little man was completely covered, aside from his shaded eyes, knobby nose, and pink cheeks and chin.
"Now I ain't got no chocolates, but it looks like I do have somthin' else for ya." He reached into his coat pocket and pulled a shining gold watch and dangled it in front Sam's eyes, almost as if in an attempt at hypnosis.
"Go ahead, it won't bite ya!"
Sam held out his hand and the man placed the cool watch into his hand and neatly coiled the silver chain on top of it.
"Now I'll be back for it as soon as yer done with it, not a second before nor a second after," he said with a grin and a wink. "Now, you better mind yer mum and use the crosswalks from now on! Now off with ya!"
Sam did as he told, turned and gave one last wave to the man who just saved his life. He give another wink and a slight tip of his hat, turned and resumed walking to wherever he was going.
____________________________________________________________________________________________
Samuel Ackerman, billionaire and philanthropist, signed his updated will, scanned it, and sent it to his attorney. Ackerman Industries, innovator of food preservation methods, will be run by his trusted great grand daughter upon his retirement or death, whichever came first, as the long-running joke went.
He picked up his phone and texted his beloved Emmie, "It's done."
It was her time now. Her plan would work. Her logistical genius combined with his vast resources and and the newly discovered technique to keep produce fresh for nearly a year will bring the end to world hunger. He leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes, not out of exhaustion, but pure contentment. His family was wonderful: four children, eight grand children, and twelve great grand children. All of them good people - doctors, lawyers, writers, and so on, but all of them were volunteers. His business, sprung from his childhood desire to help people and to deserve to be alive and uncountable hours volunteering at soup kitchens, has brought quality, affordable food to millions and soon, under the direction of sweet Emmie, everyone alive. He truly felt he deserved to be alive.
A knock on his office door woke him from his reverie.
"Come," Sam said uncertain. The door opened and in waddled in a very short, very fat man in a grey, droopy fedora and matching trench coat that softly scraped against the floor.
"Ya done well! Much better 'n most," the man said as he pulled himself up on a chair.
Sam didn't need a moment to remember for the memory was replayed daily and the watch a reminder to use his time wisely to help as many people as he could. He opened the top drawer of his desk and lifted the watch infront of him.
"Why now?" Sam asked.
"Whens are for me to decide, the whys have always been up to you. I let you borrow the time ya needed for your own why, not a second less, not a second more. Now if you'd so kindly return it someone else'll be needin' it soon," the fat man said and extended his small, chubby palm.
"Who?" Sam asked as he placed the watch into the palm of the rightful owner.
"Whos are none of my business, just the whens," the replied and slid off the chair. He opened the door and looked back to Sam with a wink and a smile, "Again, good job."
The man closed the door behind him with a gentle click of the latch. Sam decided he better make himself as comfortable and presentable as possible since he was undoubtedly on borrowed time.
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"The boy always had his mother's eyes for him," wrote my mothers friend. "She, of course, had a very keen mind."
We all share her memories of these rare moments in time. A moment in gold passed to me.
We just cannot always see them, however, until we witness them. Or rather, experience them. That's what we were doing at the moment. For as soon as we saw this amazing thing we knew it had to be happening.
It is not something that could have been predicted - yet - and I think it is inevitable that the story would end, that it would not take the whole world to realise what it is, and what it meant to us in such a unique and special way, as we have now.
I saw him, the child of a friend and passed the dream along. I'll tell you why this is strange. I was very proud of this as a kid. I have two daughters now. I've had a great childhood and I'm very proud of it. I've had my own house, my own little life, I've done it all. My mom, her husband has gotten sick and she's been sick for a long time, and I tried my hardest and I've tried my best to care for them and then this time it just comes around rushing in again.
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[WP] When you were a child a strange little man gave you a beautiful gold and silver pocket watch with the image of a serpent eating its own tail etched into it, now nearly a century later as you lay on you death bed the same strange little man appears to take the watch back, whispering "Thank you".
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It felt like no more than a dream. A haze, a fragment of time forever trapped in my mind. That little man! What a strange man he was indeed.
It couldn’t have been more than three months past my eighth birthday; when upon my suburban freshly trimmed lawn, a man not much larger than my pre-pubescent stature walked up the patio stairs and rapped on the door.
My father and I trudged through the kitchen, and upon opening found the man’s image far more unusual then the dining room’s window might’ve previously hinted.
Standing no more then 4 feet, a wickedly dressed down, pale unblinking fellow with a pointed beard extended his hand to my father:
“Good morning to you Mr. Davies! I’m sorry for such a late arrival, I’ve come for your son’s birthday celebration,”
My father stood silently and unblinkingly back,and at what seemed like hours later my father snorted,
“ You’re about three and a half months late pal, and how you know my boy is beyond me, so if you don’t start walkin’ right across my lawn and back onto the street, you’ll get to wish the authorities a happy birthday too, goodbye”
And with that, my father pushed me back inside and began to slam the door.
Like a flash, the man’s hand shot through the threshold and dropped a breathtakingly beautiful pocket watch on the floor. As I swooped to pick it up, my dad sputtered, and threw it open to pursue. But he was gone! As if he was a whisper, a specter, like the man had never really existed in the first place.
If it weren’t for such a concrete reminder I hold in my breast pocket, I would’ve told you the man was a flight of childish fancy, a figment of my vibrant imagination way back when. But ninety years later, in a bed that would soon usher me into whatever comes after birth, I pull out my beloved pocket watch and the memory comes flooding back again. Though my fingers far more weak and gnarled, the pocket watch looked exactly the same it did so so long ago. Beautifully crafted, a watch made of gold and silver with the faint image of a snake, a serpent eating its own tail lay emblazoned on the front clasp. For many years this image’s meaning has eluded the feverish clasping of my mind’s desperate search for answers. But over these long, hard years my care has waned to the point of insignificance, and I’m now content to to grasp it and admire its ethereal beauty in the morning light.
“How simple it was back then,” I murmured to myself, a sly smile breaking the corners of my lips.
After lying for hours, the tubes in my nostrils
chafing the back of my throat, I heard a familiar rap on the door, an echo from a lifetime ago.
I set the watch on my bedside table and whisper,
“Come in!”
I though my heart had left my chest! After all these years! The same strange, short little man crept in and swiftly approached my bed. He hadn’t aged a day! Ninety years of time had left his stature and facial features untouched.
I didn’t say a word, I couldn’t say a word, I just lay there my old mind spinning and wheeling. After a time the man stood on his tippy toes and held his gift to me in his hands. He looked me in the eyes and smiled a radiant smile that filled his entire face and spoke,
“It’s a circle, a loop!” He rasped, an almost mischievous light in his eyes,
My lips unable to speak let out an inaudible,
“What?”
“The snake my dear boy!” He replied,
“Into life we must enter, and to dust we must return.”
And with that he was gone,
And so was I.
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"The boy always had his mother's eyes for him," wrote my mothers friend. "She, of course, had a very keen mind."
We all share her memories of these rare moments in time. A moment in gold passed to me.
We just cannot always see them, however, until we witness them. Or rather, experience them. That's what we were doing at the moment. For as soon as we saw this amazing thing we knew it had to be happening.
It is not something that could have been predicted - yet - and I think it is inevitable that the story would end, that it would not take the whole world to realise what it is, and what it meant to us in such a unique and special way, as we have now.
I saw him, the child of a friend and passed the dream along. I'll tell you why this is strange. I was very proud of this as a kid. I have two daughters now. I've had a great childhood and I'm very proud of it. I've had my own house, my own little life, I've done it all. My mom, her husband has gotten sick and she's been sick for a long time, and I tried my hardest and I've tried my best to care for them and then this time it just comes around rushing in again.
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[WP] When you were a child a strange little man gave you a beautiful gold and silver pocket watch with the image of a serpent eating its own tail etched into it, now nearly a century later as you lay on you death bed the same strange little man appears to take the watch back, whispering "Thank you".
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An expression of sweetness turns sour.
“Shit, it's a fucking dud”
Hastily, the short but mighty Nicolas tosses the pocket watch in his satchel and rapidly exits the hospital room, giving no thought to the confused looks and questions of the now deceased man’s family and doctors in the hall outside. Once out of their sight, Nicolas dashes in the first bathroom he sees, locking it behind him immediately. Pacing back and forth, a band of sweat begins to build up on his brow. Luckily no one else is in the room.
“God damn it, let’s get this over wi-”
Dry heaves set in, a small puddle of bile gets on his shoes. Nicolas peels back the sleeve on his sweater, revealing a small digital watch of his own. Its design and interface have never before been seen in this time period or any previous.
After two quick inputs, Nicolas braces his body, grunting and scowling like an inmate in the electric chair. In less than flash he is completely gone from this space and time, no trace left behind.
\--
A small group of cast-off academics and ex-military eagerly wait inside an unmarked room beneath a run-of-the-mill simulation cafe on Colony: Amaris. Worn out Tarot Cards sprinkle the floor alongside ancient texts that belong to a museum.
In the corner hums an outdated medical chamber. Inside an infant remains motionless, but the heart beats for now. An mishmash of elaborate jewelry, herbs, paintings surround the chamber. This is no ordinary child.
The anticipation in the room is palpable. For a split second, a deafening high-pitched frequency fills the room and in a flash, Nicolas has returned, shaken and ghastly.
Everyone’s eyes widen. A few rush Nicholas with water and a blanket. He shrugs them off
Nicolas removes the once revered Ouroboros pocket watch from his bag. Shaking his head in disappointment, he tosses it on the ground.
“He died. Its not the Philosopher’s Stone”
So much was lost in the journey to obtain it. So few of them remain. The road to immortality is paved with countless lost lives. The only thing breaking the silence is the soft weeping coming from some of the clan.
Unfazed though is Elle, Nicolas’s daughter.
“What now?”
“We keep searching. We are close. I feel it in every bone in my body. In every dream I have the stone calls to me, just like it did to our ancestors. We have conquered time. We shall conquer death too. This is just the beginning.”
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"The boy always had his mother's eyes for him," wrote my mothers friend. "She, of course, had a very keen mind."
We all share her memories of these rare moments in time. A moment in gold passed to me.
We just cannot always see them, however, until we witness them. Or rather, experience them. That's what we were doing at the moment. For as soon as we saw this amazing thing we knew it had to be happening.
It is not something that could have been predicted - yet - and I think it is inevitable that the story would end, that it would not take the whole world to realise what it is, and what it meant to us in such a unique and special way, as we have now.
I saw him, the child of a friend and passed the dream along. I'll tell you why this is strange. I was very proud of this as a kid. I have two daughters now. I've had a great childhood and I'm very proud of it. I've had my own house, my own little life, I've done it all. My mom, her husband has gotten sick and she's been sick for a long time, and I tried my hardest and I've tried my best to care for them and then this time it just comes around rushing in again.
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[WP] When you were a child a strange little man gave you a beautiful gold and silver pocket watch with the image of a serpent eating its own tail etched into it, now nearly a century later as you lay on you death bed the same strange little man appears to take the watch back, whispering "Thank you".
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\[PART 1\]
He was strange, almost like a vision. The creased smile, the wrinkles folded into his face. Graying, frayed hair. Thin silver wire-frame glasses perched so delicately upon his nose, enlarging already fairly large orbs for eyes. I sat there, vision swimming as I saw him approach my bed. My heart monitor beeped a little faster, a little less in time when I saw the man just as foggy – though equally as clear – as the first time I’d ever seen him.
“Thank you,” the small old man stated, “*thank you*,”
“For… for what?...”
My voice had become strenuous over the years and I tried to eye him as best I could manage. The old man’s smile returned, the folds and wrinkles in his face folding over one another. With no more than a small flick of his wrist he put his hand into his pocket and retrieved from it the bright silver pocket watch I’d carried with me for the past century.
The small snake adorning the inside spun lazily with the time, gears and internals clicking quietly away. He popped it open as if to confirm some sort of information, then snapped it shut just as fast. Our eyes locked. I opened my mouth but with another soft flick of his finger I shut it and he spoke instead.
“For making good use of this watch,”
“But… why’d you give it to *me*?”
“Ah, I was hoping you’d ask that *well before then*,” the small man chuckled wryly, “it’s a century watch,”
“And what is *tha* \- “
Another swish to shut me up.
“ – it’s a watch the keepers give to those who need more time,”
“Excu – *excuse me*?”
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"The boy always had his mother's eyes for him," wrote my mothers friend. "She, of course, had a very keen mind."
We all share her memories of these rare moments in time. A moment in gold passed to me.
We just cannot always see them, however, until we witness them. Or rather, experience them. That's what we were doing at the moment. For as soon as we saw this amazing thing we knew it had to be happening.
It is not something that could have been predicted - yet - and I think it is inevitable that the story would end, that it would not take the whole world to realise what it is, and what it meant to us in such a unique and special way, as we have now.
I saw him, the child of a friend and passed the dream along. I'll tell you why this is strange. I was very proud of this as a kid. I have two daughters now. I've had a great childhood and I'm very proud of it. I've had my own house, my own little life, I've done it all. My mom, her husband has gotten sick and she's been sick for a long time, and I tried my hardest and I've tried my best to care for them and then this time it just comes around rushing in again.
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[WP] When you were a child a strange little man gave you a beautiful gold and silver pocket watch with the image of a serpent eating its own tail etched into it, now nearly a century later as you lay on you death bed the same strange little man appears to take the watch back, whispering "Thank you".
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\[PART 2\]
The wry smile returned as the small man climbed upon a chair to seat himself. I looked across at him and he stared at the elder analog clock upon the wall opposite me. For a second all he did was stare at it until he cleared his throat.
“I’m a keeper. One who sees all,” the old man stole a solid look over me, “and I saw in you a life where you did *fantastic* things,”
“All… all I did was do what I could for people…”
“Ah, yes. That’s what most of them say,” a stray laugh escaped his throat, “you humans don’t think you do all that good, *do you*? You see… you did *so much more* than you think. You’ve saved lives, kept them going. You’ve spread light into a world of darkness,”
I watched the old man wave his hands and in the ghostly smoke that appeared before us I saw flashes, visions of the people I’d supposedly saved. Their timelines made my head spin. From the darkest point of life they blossomed. Families were started, happiness was spread, and the darkness slowly faded. As these stories unfolded over themselves I stared in awe at what exactly I’d done.
“So… that doesn’t answer one last question…”
“And what’s that?”
“Why… *why* you gave me this watch,”
“I wanted you to see what you’d done with your life *first*. I came to give you this watch so many decades ago because if I hadn’t…” a small frown grew on the man’s face, “… your life would have tragically ended before you could give the world everything we knew you could,”
“Wait…”
My eyes widened in shock. In my brain I remembered that fateful day as a child – the day I was diagnosed with a disease so deadly. I could remember the pump forced into my stomach, the stench of death, the hospital lights. *The psychiatric ward* in all of its ugly glory.
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"The boy always had his mother's eyes for him," wrote my mothers friend. "She, of course, had a very keen mind."
We all share her memories of these rare moments in time. A moment in gold passed to me.
We just cannot always see them, however, until we witness them. Or rather, experience them. That's what we were doing at the moment. For as soon as we saw this amazing thing we knew it had to be happening.
It is not something that could have been predicted - yet - and I think it is inevitable that the story would end, that it would not take the whole world to realise what it is, and what it meant to us in such a unique and special way, as we have now.
I saw him, the child of a friend and passed the dream along. I'll tell you why this is strange. I was very proud of this as a kid. I have two daughters now. I've had a great childhood and I'm very proud of it. I've had my own house, my own little life, I've done it all. My mom, her husband has gotten sick and she's been sick for a long time, and I tried my hardest and I've tried my best to care for them and then this time it just comes around rushing in again.
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[WP] When you were a child a strange little man gave you a beautiful gold and silver pocket watch with the image of a serpent eating its own tail etched into it, now nearly a century later as you lay on you death bed the same strange little man appears to take the watch back, whispering "Thank you".
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\[PART 3\]
“That’s right,” the old man said softly, “you were going to take your own life, weren’t you?”
“But…”
“No. This watch saved your life, fixed the damage done. It breathed life into a damaged body, and *look*…” the man grinned, “look at the light you shined into this cruel world,”
I shut my eyes as tears began to roll down my cheeks. Fat, wet, tears. Again the man took the watch out and popped it open. He exchanged a glance between me and the watch and slowly watched the snake spin to a full stop. The entire snake had finally eaten itself, its tiny mechanical body a single spot upon the face of the watch.
“It’s time,” he spoke gently, “are you ready?”
I nodded silently. The last thing I heard before passing was the winding of gears – prepping the watch for its next successor.
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"The boy always had his mother's eyes for him," wrote my mothers friend. "She, of course, had a very keen mind."
We all share her memories of these rare moments in time. A moment in gold passed to me.
We just cannot always see them, however, until we witness them. Or rather, experience them. That's what we were doing at the moment. For as soon as we saw this amazing thing we knew it had to be happening.
It is not something that could have been predicted - yet - and I think it is inevitable that the story would end, that it would not take the whole world to realise what it is, and what it meant to us in such a unique and special way, as we have now.
I saw him, the child of a friend and passed the dream along. I'll tell you why this is strange. I was very proud of this as a kid. I have two daughters now. I've had a great childhood and I'm very proud of it. I've had my own house, my own little life, I've done it all. My mom, her husband has gotten sick and she's been sick for a long time, and I tried my hardest and I've tried my best to care for them and then this time it just comes around rushing in again.
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[WP] When you were a child a strange little man gave you a beautiful gold and silver pocket watch with the image of a serpent eating its own tail etched into it, now nearly a century later as you lay on you death bed the same strange little man appears to take the watch back, whispering "Thank you".
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“Dad... who is this man, do you know him?”
I’m not sure if my son is disappointed but he’s definitely in shock
“I’m not sure Joey but I think I do... it’s like he’s from a forgotten dream I had as a child”
I realized I never told Joey the story of where this watch is from but what was there to tell him? I wasn’t sure that I believed it myself except that I’ve had this watch since I was four and my parents didn’t give it to me. They never believed this story of how a small trickster of a man gave it to me. Up until they passed away, they always thought I had just found it. They wanted to sell it but I wouldn’t let them, even though we had little and it could have fetched us a lot of money.
“What if I want to give it to my son?”
“I’m sorry but you won’t because you’re going to give it to me”
Incredulous, I want to ask him how he can act as if I don’t have a choice in this but I need to know where this is going.
“So what are you thanking me for?”
“For keeping the Ouroboros alive”
“What do you mean? I never did anything with it, and who are you?”
“It doesn’t matter who I am, you wouldn’t understand, not in the state you’re currently in. What matters is that you kept it your entire life, even when you had every reason not to.”
“Why is that a big deal? It wasn’t a burden to keep.”
“Even when you had nothing and were living on the streets, you never sold, bargained with it, or allowed it to be taken.”
“Well yeah, that thought never came to me, I could handle the cold, hunger, and being beaten, but I’d never forgive myself if I had parted with my legacy.”
“Your legacy... did you ever wonder why you thought of it as an heirloom? You didn’t get it from your family.”
“It’s been with me ever since I can remember anything. It’s been with me longer than any other person or thing in my life.”
“That’s because it’s been with you longer than your life. It’s been passed to bearers through countless generations down to you. We were confident you would not fail to keep it alive. Had you lost it, the universe would have had nothing to sustain itself and died along with everything in it.”
“...what?”
“Time doesn’t stop for anyone because if it did, it would never start again, not in this universe at least. Through all of existence there must be a source suitable to keep it alive and flowing. Unfortunately time consumes everything that flows with it, some faster than others. It is our sworn duty to pick the most vital and pure source to keep it as close as possible to allow the universe to move. In your life you were it. We cannot thank you enough for everything you’ve done.”
“So where is it going now?”
“It’s going to someone you don’t know yet but will be immensely familiar to you, as long as your son understands the significance of all this.”
Looking over at Joey he seems like he’s held onto every word, I don’t feel like I need to say anything to him about this.
“He gets it, so what now?”
“You just take it easy and rest for now, you’ve earned it.”
I don’t know how long I lie there for. I say goodbye to everyone but it doesn’t feel sad. It feels like I’m going to see them again very soon after going home.”
|
"The boy always had his mother's eyes for him," wrote my mothers friend. "She, of course, had a very keen mind."
We all share her memories of these rare moments in time. A moment in gold passed to me.
We just cannot always see them, however, until we witness them. Or rather, experience them. That's what we were doing at the moment. For as soon as we saw this amazing thing we knew it had to be happening.
It is not something that could have been predicted - yet - and I think it is inevitable that the story would end, that it would not take the whole world to realise what it is, and what it meant to us in such a unique and special way, as we have now.
I saw him, the child of a friend and passed the dream along. I'll tell you why this is strange. I was very proud of this as a kid. I have two daughters now. I've had a great childhood and I'm very proud of it. I've had my own house, my own little life, I've done it all. My mom, her husband has gotten sick and she's been sick for a long time, and I tried my hardest and I've tried my best to care for them and then this time it just comes around rushing in again.
|
|
[WP] When you were a child a strange little man gave you a beautiful gold and silver pocket watch with the image of a serpent eating its own tail etched into it, now nearly a century later as you lay on you death bed the same strange little man appears to take the watch back, whispering "Thank you".
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*Everything will remain silent...*
Those were the exact words when I first got the watch from the old man. I was only 5 years old, I was 5 years old dreamer who just got off from the train with his parents. No one gave me attention except a man with a strange watch. He just said those words as soon as he gave me the watch and turned his back and vanished into crowd.
20 years later, I couldn’t find my watch. After my parents divorced I stayed with mom because she was having very hard time mentally and I wanted to support her. I thought my father took the watch but a week later someone knocked to my door and asked if the watch belongs to me.
She had one of the prettiest eyes I have ever seen. When she gave me the watch she asked me what that picture means.
I said ‘Gupahala’ without even thinking a second. It was just like reflex and I had no idea that word meant so I changed the subject I invited her in. I offered her a tea and said thanks for many times. But some reason I didn’t ask where did she find it nor she mentioned it while we were talking.
A few months later I was plannig asking her if she wants to marry me. Obviously, we shared so many things in past few months I felt like I’m somehow connected to her. I was very sure that she was also feeling same way.
But the next day, she got disappeared and I did everything to find her but there was no luck. I thought universe hates me. There was no chance that I will be happy for someday. Then it just clicked me, what if this watch is cursed? Shouldn’t I even try to get rid of it. Do I really need this watch? I have lost so many things because of this watch.
Normal people would just threw the bloody watch to the river or to trash can. But instead, I picked a random address on the other side of the country I sent it there.
Who knew as soon as I got rid of the watch my doorbell rings and I see her once again. I was so happy that I made the right decision. She explained to me why she was gone she couldn’t answer to my calls. But when she was talking to me and telling me that how much she missed me I was thinking about the watch. I was really cursed for last 20 years? Why did I waited this long...
We slept together I didn’t want to fall asleep because really wanted to watch her sleep, I wanted hold her as long as I could, I wanted to keep my eyes open as long as I could... but at the end I was asleep.
I woke up with a great pain. I wanted to scream but I couldn’t. My lips were sewed together and suddenly she approached to me and whispered to my ears ‘Everything will remain silent’.
She had my watch. She pointed the watch on the wall it was 2:53 AM. I wanted to move but I was also tied to the bed. She took the knife that was standing beside her. She jammed the knife into my right thigh and taped the watch to the knife. She was pointing at the watch.
8:00 the watch wasn’t ticking it was stuck at that time.
She got distracted by door knocking. It was my mother and the door was locked. She put her index finger on my lips and applied some pressure and that hurt like hell. I was sleepy again, my eyelids felt very heavy.
I woke up at the hospital. My mother was standing crying right next to me.
I didn’t feel any stitches on my lips and I wanted ask where is she but suddenly I had the sudden headache, I couldn’t remember her name...
‘Where did she go?’ I asked.
My mother was confused. She continued crying... The watch never found...
80 years old man who lives all alone, no reletives, no wife, no kids. That’s me. I’m laying at the bed thinking about the past. Suddenly, I see the man who gave me the watch he has the same appearance as I saw him when I was just a kid. He puts his hand to where did I got stabbed when I was young.
‘I came for the watch’ he said.
‘I don’t have it’ I answered.
He smiled and he forced his hand through my thigh. I didn’t feel any pain and somehow when he pulled his hand back there was the watch covered with blood.
He looked at me and said ‘Thanks.’
When he was about to leave I asked ‘Why?’
‘Everything will remain silent, even the time itself.’
------------------------------------------
*Please don't mind any writing or grammar mistakes, I'm not a native speaker*
|
"The boy always had his mother's eyes for him," wrote my mothers friend. "She, of course, had a very keen mind."
We all share her memories of these rare moments in time. A moment in gold passed to me.
We just cannot always see them, however, until we witness them. Or rather, experience them. That's what we were doing at the moment. For as soon as we saw this amazing thing we knew it had to be happening.
It is not something that could have been predicted - yet - and I think it is inevitable that the story would end, that it would not take the whole world to realise what it is, and what it meant to us in such a unique and special way, as we have now.
I saw him, the child of a friend and passed the dream along. I'll tell you why this is strange. I was very proud of this as a kid. I have two daughters now. I've had a great childhood and I'm very proud of it. I've had my own house, my own little life, I've done it all. My mom, her husband has gotten sick and she's been sick for a long time, and I tried my hardest and I've tried my best to care for them and then this time it just comes around rushing in again.
|
|
[WP] When you were a child a strange little man gave you a beautiful gold and silver pocket watch with the image of a serpent eating its own tail etched into it, now nearly a century later as you lay on you death bed the same strange little man appears to take the watch back, whispering "Thank you".
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Arthur was tired. His time was near. He could feel it. He ran his finger over the watch in his pocket. He traced the snake from it's mouth to its tail. He sighed. He still wasn't sure what it meant. He felt cool wind on his face from the window as he thought back to the day. The strange man who had approached him when he was only about six years old. He thought back to his whole life. An ordinary life. That was the only thing that stood out to him.
He sat up straight. Wind? His window was closed. He looked at the open window and his eyes came to rest on the chair on his room.
"Hello Arthur."
"You?"
"I?"
"You are real. I always believed. People told me I was crazy."
"Maybe you are. Maybe we all are." The little man moved back on the chair to get more comfortable. "You have something for me?"
Arthur took out the watch. "What is this?"
"Ouroboros."
"Yeah, I know what the symbol is called. But what is it. I've had the watch for over a 100 years, but it has never told me the time. At least, never the correct one."
"It always told the right time. It's just in the wrong dimension."
"The wrong dimension?"
"Would you prefer the word Universe?"
"As in multiverses."
"Sure."
"That's just a theory."
"And yet here I am. I'm certainly not of this world."
"You... I... Am I dreaming?"
"No, you're not. This is real. I am real. The artifact is most certainly real. In fact, it's probably more real than any of us."
"The artifact?"
"The watch. It allows us to travel through the multiverse. And it binds us together."
"Together?"
"Let me tell you about my world. A world torn by war. The tyrant who rules with a literal iron fist. Magic is abundant. And prophecies. All your little fantasy stories basically take inspiration from our world."
"That sounds like bullshit."
He shrugged. "You don't have to believe it. Yet. Soon enough you will see it with your own eyes."
"What do you mean?"
He ignored the question. "This watch belonged to my friend. The prophecies anointed him as the chosen one. I was the faithful companion. And we came close. We did. But the tyrant was too much for us."
"Who is this tyrant?"
"A human."
"Like an actual human? Like me?"
"Yes. We don't know where he came from. But he did. And he was able to utilize the magic in our land better than any one of us could. He is stronger than us and took over our world. I realized that to have any chance to beat him, we would need to know him. As I held the dying chosen one in my arms, I knew then that we would need some outside help to beat him. Someone as powerful as him."
"Wait. Do you mean..."
"You, Arthur Dent. I need you to come with me. And save us."
"Me? I am weak. I'm on my deathbed."
He walked over to Arthur and used the steps to hop onto the hospital bed. He took the watch from Arthur and ran his hand over the snake as Arthur had done a while back.
"Ouroboros. This means infinity. This means wholeness. When I gave you the watch, it split you. A part of you is not completely human. It enabled you to live longer than most of your peers. But now, as your human part is getting closer to dying, the part of you that belongs in my world is getting closer to being. The circle of life."
"I don't understand any of this."
"You're no about to die Arthur. You're about to be born. You are the chosen one. The one to lead the revolution. Come Arthur Dent, fulfill your destiny."
A surge of adrenaline coursed through Arthur's body and a smile appeared in spite of himself. The ECG flatlined and the watch disappeared from his body.
|
"The boy always had his mother's eyes for him," wrote my mothers friend. "She, of course, had a very keen mind."
We all share her memories of these rare moments in time. A moment in gold passed to me.
We just cannot always see them, however, until we witness them. Or rather, experience them. That's what we were doing at the moment. For as soon as we saw this amazing thing we knew it had to be happening.
It is not something that could have been predicted - yet - and I think it is inevitable that the story would end, that it would not take the whole world to realise what it is, and what it meant to us in such a unique and special way, as we have now.
I saw him, the child of a friend and passed the dream along. I'll tell you why this is strange. I was very proud of this as a kid. I have two daughters now. I've had a great childhood and I'm very proud of it. I've had my own house, my own little life, I've done it all. My mom, her husband has gotten sick and she's been sick for a long time, and I tried my hardest and I've tried my best to care for them and then this time it just comes around rushing in again.
|
|
[WP] When you were a child a strange little man gave you a beautiful gold and silver pocket watch with the image of a serpent eating its own tail etched into it, now nearly a century later as you lay on you death bed the same strange little man appears to take the watch back, whispering "Thank you".
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Finally, the room is quiet. Hours of visiting relatives could grate on the calmest nerves, and I was in little mood to be calm now. I could feel the end coming, my toes were already cold and numb, far worse than the frigid conditions of a hospital room could explain. It was almost time.
Outside I can hear my great-grandchild babbling, too young to understand why everyone else is so sad. They named him after me, an honor I protested vehmently, much to everyone's dismay. None of them understood. How could they? None of them had ever seen what I had seen, and every attempt to explain it fell on deaf ears.
The curtain moves by the window, as if in a breeze. "I know you're there," I call out softly. My last visitor has finally arrived.
"You always were so perceptive," says the strage little man I thought I must have imagined as a child. I'd lost count of the number of times I'd tried to throw his gift away, sell it, pawn it, give it... no matter what, the watch always came back. Always in my pocket. Always as beautiful as the first time I'd seen it. Always as heavy as it has always been.
"Why?" I asked as I offered the watch back to him. He points to the bedside table and I set it there with an effort.
"You know that's not how this works," he said with a strange little smile.
"I tried everything to get rid of it."
"I know," he says with the first trace of sadness I'd ever seen on his face.
"What is it?" I ask, the mystery of the watch tantalized my thoughts sometimes for days at a time, then not at all for months or even years. The watch simply... was. Enduring, unchanging, inexplicable. No tool I'd ever found could scratch it, not even diamond. Tungsten. Titanium. I'd tried them all. The watch never needed to be wound, never lost a second, never ticked. It was a silent sentinal throughout all of my life and yet...
"A better question is, what do you think it is?"
"My soul?"
My answer seemed to amuse him, "You were a child when I gave it to you, you had a soul long before then."
"Your soul?"
That did not amuse him. "No."
"I'm the most ordinary person anyone could ever meet," I say quietly. "Good kid, good grades, good family, there is absolutely nothing special about me... except that watch." His eyebrow twitched, just a little. Just enough. "So, was the watch supposed to protect me... or protect everyone else?"
The strange little man's face scrunches up in something that might be disgust, but I don't think it's directed at me. "I can not answer that."
"I'm dying. What would be the point in keeping it a secret?"
"It is because you are dying that it has to remain a secret."
Babbling outside of the door, the strange little man's face grows sad and I feel anger swelling in my throat. "No. No. Oh don't you fucking dare," I gasp as the last breath leaves me as though being pulled from my body with a vacuum.
"I wish I could make you understand," he says with such profound grief in his eyes. "Everything depends on this. Everything you know. Everyone you love. Everything." I feel suddenly helpless and realize that the numbness has crept all the way to my throat now, my heart struggling against the spreading cold in my chest. "I never agreed with it," he whispers as my eyes close and my lips move wordlessly. The world goes dark around me as the sound of the watch rasps against the table, suddenly ticking for the first and last time. "I never agreed, but I will wait to pass it to him for as long as I possibly can. Thank you, for the sacrifice you never even knew you were making."
|
"The boy always had his mother's eyes for him," wrote my mothers friend. "She, of course, had a very keen mind."
We all share her memories of these rare moments in time. A moment in gold passed to me.
We just cannot always see them, however, until we witness them. Or rather, experience them. That's what we were doing at the moment. For as soon as we saw this amazing thing we knew it had to be happening.
It is not something that could have been predicted - yet - and I think it is inevitable that the story would end, that it would not take the whole world to realise what it is, and what it meant to us in such a unique and special way, as we have now.
I saw him, the child of a friend and passed the dream along. I'll tell you why this is strange. I was very proud of this as a kid. I have two daughters now. I've had a great childhood and I'm very proud of it. I've had my own house, my own little life, I've done it all. My mom, her husband has gotten sick and she's been sick for a long time, and I tried my hardest and I've tried my best to care for them and then this time it just comes around rushing in again.
|
|
[WP] When you were a child a strange little man gave you a beautiful gold and silver pocket watch with the image of a serpent eating its own tail etched into it, now nearly a century later as you lay on you death bed the same strange little man appears to take the watch back, whispering "Thank you".
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“Ouroboras” He said.
“What do you mean?” I asked hoarsely. I could feel the life draining out of me. I wasn’t clinging to it anyway. I had lived a very succinct life. I had no regrets. Nobody does when you’ve lived for a 106 years.
“It’s quite simple, really.” His eyes were animated, and he looked excited.
“Explain quickly, please. I fear I do not have a lot of time left and I would like to spend my last moments in solitude.”
The little man readjusted the robe he was wearing around his waist and looked intently at me:
“I come from a special place in this world. It might amuse you but-“
“It won’t. When you’ve lived as long as I have, by the end nothing is amusing.” I smiled meekly and continued:
“However, you probably have something to say about that too, considering how you haven’t aged a day, unless I’m delusional and my eyesight is playing mad tricks on me.”
He grinned mischievously, ran his fingers across the gold and silver serpentine watch that I had just earlier given him.
“I am one of the Regulators. We are a secret organisation, and since time immemorial we’ve been giving these artefacts or as you call them “watches” to people who we deem fit according to the criteria mentioned in the Sacred Scrolls. The artefact gathers all your life essence throughout your life, and on the time of death, you’re given a choice.”
He paused, for suspense.
He had my attention.
“You’re given the choice to live again. To forget everything and everyone from this life, except the realisation that you’ve lived before and this is your second life. The realisation resides dormant in your mind till your early adolescence. For some, the realisation is crushing, while for others it’s motivating. The artefact merely powers the transition of soul from the dying body to the new born.”
“What if I refuse?”
“Then you get to live the entirety of your life again, in rewind, in the next few seconds.”
I somehow managed to grimace.
“What about the artefact? Who does it go to? Why did you give it to me?”
The little man shuffled. “The answer to those questions is not for you to know.” He looked at the watch.
“Your time is almost over. The serpent’s fangs are touching its tail.” His pupils dilated and he said, in an intimidating tone:
“Decide. What’s it going to be? Is the serpent going to rescind the way it came back, one last time? Or is it going to eat itself whole to begin anew?”
I closed my eyes, and sighed. I felt the last glimmer of life in me going out. But before I breathed my last, I managed to whisper:
“Another chance. Another chance...”
|
"The boy always had his mother's eyes for him," wrote my mothers friend. "She, of course, had a very keen mind."
We all share her memories of these rare moments in time. A moment in gold passed to me.
We just cannot always see them, however, until we witness them. Or rather, experience them. That's what we were doing at the moment. For as soon as we saw this amazing thing we knew it had to be happening.
It is not something that could have been predicted - yet - and I think it is inevitable that the story would end, that it would not take the whole world to realise what it is, and what it meant to us in such a unique and special way, as we have now.
I saw him, the child of a friend and passed the dream along. I'll tell you why this is strange. I was very proud of this as a kid. I have two daughters now. I've had a great childhood and I'm very proud of it. I've had my own house, my own little life, I've done it all. My mom, her husband has gotten sick and she's been sick for a long time, and I tried my hardest and I've tried my best to care for them and then this time it just comes around rushing in again.
|
|
[WP] When you were a child a strange little man gave you a beautiful gold and silver pocket watch with the image of a serpent eating its own tail etched into it, now nearly a century later as you lay on you death bed the same strange little man appears to take the watch back, whispering "Thank you".
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Finally, the room is quiet. Hours of visiting relatives could grate on the calmest nerves, and I was in little mood to be calm now. I could feel the end coming, my toes were already cold and numb, far worse than the frigid conditions of a hospital room could explain. It was almost time.
Outside I can hear my great-grandchild babbling, too young to understand why everyone else is so sad. They named him after me, an honor I protested vehmently, much to everyone's dismay. None of them understood. How could they? None of them had ever seen what I had seen, and every attempt to explain it fell on deaf ears.
The curtain moves by the window, as if in a breeze. "I know you're there," I call out softly. My last visitor has finally arrived.
"You always were so perceptive," says the strage little man I thought I must have imagined as a child. I'd lost count of the number of times I'd tried to throw his gift away, sell it, pawn it, give it... no matter what, the watch always came back. Always in my pocket. Always as beautiful as the first time I'd seen it. Always as heavy as it has always been.
"Why?" I asked as I offered the watch back to him. He points to the bedside table and I set it there with an effort.
"You know that's not how this works," he said with a strange little smile.
"I tried everything to get rid of it."
"I know," he says with the first trace of sadness I'd ever seen on his face.
"What is it?" I ask, the mystery of the watch tantalized my thoughts sometimes for days at a time, then not at all for months or even years. The watch simply... was. Enduring, unchanging, inexplicable. No tool I'd ever found could scratch it, not even diamond. Tungsten. Titanium. I'd tried them all. The watch never needed to be wound, never lost a second, never ticked. It was a silent sentinal throughout all of my life and yet...
"A better question is, what do you think it is?"
"My soul?"
My answer seemed to amuse him, "You were a child when I gave it to you, you had a soul long before then."
"Your soul?"
That did not amuse him. "No."
"I'm the most ordinary person anyone could ever meet," I say quietly. "Good kid, good grades, good family, there is absolutely nothing special about me... except that watch." His eyebrow twitched, just a little. Just enough. "So, was the watch supposed to protect me... or protect everyone else?"
The strange little man's face scrunches up in something that might be disgust, but I don't think it's directed at me. "I can not answer that."
"I'm dying. What would be the point in keeping it a secret?"
"It is because you are dying that it has to remain a secret."
Babbling outside of the door, the strange little man's face grows sad and I feel anger swelling in my throat. "No. No. Oh don't you fucking dare," I gasp as the last breath leaves me as though being pulled from my body with a vacuum.
"I wish I could make you understand," he says with such profound grief in his eyes. "Everything depends on this. Everything you know. Everyone you love. Everything." I feel suddenly helpless and realize that the numbness has crept all the way to my throat now, my heart struggling against the spreading cold in my chest. "I never agreed with it," he whispers as my eyes close and my lips move wordlessly. The world goes dark around me as the sound of the watch rasps against the table, suddenly ticking for the first and last time. "I never agreed, but I will wait to pass it to him for as long as I possibly can. Thank you, for the sacrifice you never even knew you were making."
|
*Everything will remain silent...*
Those were the exact words when I first got the watch from the old man. I was only 5 years old, I was 5 years old dreamer who just got off from the train with his parents. No one gave me attention except a man with a strange watch. He just said those words as soon as he gave me the watch and turned his back and vanished into crowd.
20 years later, I couldn’t find my watch. After my parents divorced I stayed with mom because she was having very hard time mentally and I wanted to support her. I thought my father took the watch but a week later someone knocked to my door and asked if the watch belongs to me.
She had one of the prettiest eyes I have ever seen. When she gave me the watch she asked me what that picture means.
I said ‘Gupahala’ without even thinking a second. It was just like reflex and I had no idea that word meant so I changed the subject I invited her in. I offered her a tea and said thanks for many times. But some reason I didn’t ask where did she find it nor she mentioned it while we were talking.
A few months later I was plannig asking her if she wants to marry me. Obviously, we shared so many things in past few months I felt like I’m somehow connected to her. I was very sure that she was also feeling same way.
But the next day, she got disappeared and I did everything to find her but there was no luck. I thought universe hates me. There was no chance that I will be happy for someday. Then it just clicked me, what if this watch is cursed? Shouldn’t I even try to get rid of it. Do I really need this watch? I have lost so many things because of this watch.
Normal people would just threw the bloody watch to the river or to trash can. But instead, I picked a random address on the other side of the country I sent it there.
Who knew as soon as I got rid of the watch my doorbell rings and I see her once again. I was so happy that I made the right decision. She explained to me why she was gone she couldn’t answer to my calls. But when she was talking to me and telling me that how much she missed me I was thinking about the watch. I was really cursed for last 20 years? Why did I waited this long...
We slept together I didn’t want to fall asleep because really wanted to watch her sleep, I wanted hold her as long as I could, I wanted to keep my eyes open as long as I could... but at the end I was asleep.
I woke up with a great pain. I wanted to scream but I couldn’t. My lips were sewed together and suddenly she approached to me and whispered to my ears ‘Everything will remain silent’.
She had my watch. She pointed the watch on the wall it was 2:53 AM. I wanted to move but I was also tied to the bed. She took the knife that was standing beside her. She jammed the knife into my right thigh and taped the watch to the knife. She was pointing at the watch.
8:00 the watch wasn’t ticking it was stuck at that time.
She got distracted by door knocking. It was my mother and the door was locked. She put her index finger on my lips and applied some pressure and that hurt like hell. I was sleepy again, my eyelids felt very heavy.
I woke up at the hospital. My mother was standing crying right next to me.
I didn’t feel any stitches on my lips and I wanted ask where is she but suddenly I had the sudden headache, I couldn’t remember her name...
‘Where did she go?’ I asked.
My mother was confused. She continued crying... The watch never found...
80 years old man who lives all alone, no reletives, no wife, no kids. That’s me. I’m laying at the bed thinking about the past. Suddenly, I see the man who gave me the watch he has the same appearance as I saw him when I was just a kid. He puts his hand to where did I got stabbed when I was young.
‘I came for the watch’ he said.
‘I don’t have it’ I answered.
He smiled and he forced his hand through my thigh. I didn’t feel any pain and somehow when he pulled his hand back there was the watch covered with blood.
He looked at me and said ‘Thanks.’
When he was about to leave I asked ‘Why?’
‘Everything will remain silent, even the time itself.’
------------------------------------------
*Please don't mind any writing or grammar mistakes, I'm not a native speaker*
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[WP] When you were a child a strange little man gave you a beautiful gold and silver pocket watch with the image of a serpent eating its own tail etched into it, now nearly a century later as you lay on you death bed the same strange little man appears to take the watch back, whispering "Thank you".
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Finally, the room is quiet. Hours of visiting relatives could grate on the calmest nerves, and I was in little mood to be calm now. I could feel the end coming, my toes were already cold and numb, far worse than the frigid conditions of a hospital room could explain. It was almost time.
Outside I can hear my great-grandchild babbling, too young to understand why everyone else is so sad. They named him after me, an honor I protested vehmently, much to everyone's dismay. None of them understood. How could they? None of them had ever seen what I had seen, and every attempt to explain it fell on deaf ears.
The curtain moves by the window, as if in a breeze. "I know you're there," I call out softly. My last visitor has finally arrived.
"You always were so perceptive," says the strage little man I thought I must have imagined as a child. I'd lost count of the number of times I'd tried to throw his gift away, sell it, pawn it, give it... no matter what, the watch always came back. Always in my pocket. Always as beautiful as the first time I'd seen it. Always as heavy as it has always been.
"Why?" I asked as I offered the watch back to him. He points to the bedside table and I set it there with an effort.
"You know that's not how this works," he said with a strange little smile.
"I tried everything to get rid of it."
"I know," he says with the first trace of sadness I'd ever seen on his face.
"What is it?" I ask, the mystery of the watch tantalized my thoughts sometimes for days at a time, then not at all for months or even years. The watch simply... was. Enduring, unchanging, inexplicable. No tool I'd ever found could scratch it, not even diamond. Tungsten. Titanium. I'd tried them all. The watch never needed to be wound, never lost a second, never ticked. It was a silent sentinal throughout all of my life and yet...
"A better question is, what do you think it is?"
"My soul?"
My answer seemed to amuse him, "You were a child when I gave it to you, you had a soul long before then."
"Your soul?"
That did not amuse him. "No."
"I'm the most ordinary person anyone could ever meet," I say quietly. "Good kid, good grades, good family, there is absolutely nothing special about me... except that watch." His eyebrow twitched, just a little. Just enough. "So, was the watch supposed to protect me... or protect everyone else?"
The strange little man's face scrunches up in something that might be disgust, but I don't think it's directed at me. "I can not answer that."
"I'm dying. What would be the point in keeping it a secret?"
"It is because you are dying that it has to remain a secret."
Babbling outside of the door, the strange little man's face grows sad and I feel anger swelling in my throat. "No. No. Oh don't you fucking dare," I gasp as the last breath leaves me as though being pulled from my body with a vacuum.
"I wish I could make you understand," he says with such profound grief in his eyes. "Everything depends on this. Everything you know. Everyone you love. Everything." I feel suddenly helpless and realize that the numbness has crept all the way to my throat now, my heart struggling against the spreading cold in my chest. "I never agreed with it," he whispers as my eyes close and my lips move wordlessly. The world goes dark around me as the sound of the watch rasps against the table, suddenly ticking for the first and last time. "I never agreed, but I will wait to pass it to him for as long as I possibly can. Thank you, for the sacrifice you never even knew you were making."
|
Arthur was tired. His time was near. He could feel it. He ran his finger over the watch in his pocket. He traced the snake from it's mouth to its tail. He sighed. He still wasn't sure what it meant. He felt cool wind on his face from the window as he thought back to the day. The strange man who had approached him when he was only about six years old. He thought back to his whole life. An ordinary life. That was the only thing that stood out to him.
He sat up straight. Wind? His window was closed. He looked at the open window and his eyes came to rest on the chair on his room.
"Hello Arthur."
"You?"
"I?"
"You are real. I always believed. People told me I was crazy."
"Maybe you are. Maybe we all are." The little man moved back on the chair to get more comfortable. "You have something for me?"
Arthur took out the watch. "What is this?"
"Ouroboros."
"Yeah, I know what the symbol is called. But what is it. I've had the watch for over a 100 years, but it has never told me the time. At least, never the correct one."
"It always told the right time. It's just in the wrong dimension."
"The wrong dimension?"
"Would you prefer the word Universe?"
"As in multiverses."
"Sure."
"That's just a theory."
"And yet here I am. I'm certainly not of this world."
"You... I... Am I dreaming?"
"No, you're not. This is real. I am real. The artifact is most certainly real. In fact, it's probably more real than any of us."
"The artifact?"
"The watch. It allows us to travel through the multiverse. And it binds us together."
"Together?"
"Let me tell you about my world. A world torn by war. The tyrant who rules with a literal iron fist. Magic is abundant. And prophecies. All your little fantasy stories basically take inspiration from our world."
"That sounds like bullshit."
He shrugged. "You don't have to believe it. Yet. Soon enough you will see it with your own eyes."
"What do you mean?"
He ignored the question. "This watch belonged to my friend. The prophecies anointed him as the chosen one. I was the faithful companion. And we came close. We did. But the tyrant was too much for us."
"Who is this tyrant?"
"A human."
"Like an actual human? Like me?"
"Yes. We don't know where he came from. But he did. And he was able to utilize the magic in our land better than any one of us could. He is stronger than us and took over our world. I realized that to have any chance to beat him, we would need to know him. As I held the dying chosen one in my arms, I knew then that we would need some outside help to beat him. Someone as powerful as him."
"Wait. Do you mean..."
"You, Arthur Dent. I need you to come with me. And save us."
"Me? I am weak. I'm on my deathbed."
He walked over to Arthur and used the steps to hop onto the hospital bed. He took the watch from Arthur and ran his hand over the snake as Arthur had done a while back.
"Ouroboros. This means infinity. This means wholeness. When I gave you the watch, it split you. A part of you is not completely human. It enabled you to live longer than most of your peers. But now, as your human part is getting closer to dying, the part of you that belongs in my world is getting closer to being. The circle of life."
"I don't understand any of this."
"You're no about to die Arthur. You're about to be born. You are the chosen one. The one to lead the revolution. Come Arthur Dent, fulfill your destiny."
A surge of adrenaline coursed through Arthur's body and a smile appeared in spite of himself. The ECG flatlined and the watch disappeared from his body.
|
|
[WP] When you were a child a strange little man gave you a beautiful gold and silver pocket watch with the image of a serpent eating its own tail etched into it, now nearly a century later as you lay on you death bed the same strange little man appears to take the watch back, whispering "Thank you".
|
“Ouroboras” He said.
“What do you mean?” I asked hoarsely. I could feel the life draining out of me. I wasn’t clinging to it anyway. I had lived a very succinct life. I had no regrets. Nobody does when you’ve lived for a 106 years.
“It’s quite simple, really.” His eyes were animated, and he looked excited.
“Explain quickly, please. I fear I do not have a lot of time left and I would like to spend my last moments in solitude.”
The little man readjusted the robe he was wearing around his waist and looked intently at me:
“I come from a special place in this world. It might amuse you but-“
“It won’t. When you’ve lived as long as I have, by the end nothing is amusing.” I smiled meekly and continued:
“However, you probably have something to say about that too, considering how you haven’t aged a day, unless I’m delusional and my eyesight is playing mad tricks on me.”
He grinned mischievously, ran his fingers across the gold and silver serpentine watch that I had just earlier given him.
“I am one of the Regulators. We are a secret organisation, and since time immemorial we’ve been giving these artefacts or as you call them “watches” to people who we deem fit according to the criteria mentioned in the Sacred Scrolls. The artefact gathers all your life essence throughout your life, and on the time of death, you’re given a choice.”
He paused, for suspense.
He had my attention.
“You’re given the choice to live again. To forget everything and everyone from this life, except the realisation that you’ve lived before and this is your second life. The realisation resides dormant in your mind till your early adolescence. For some, the realisation is crushing, while for others it’s motivating. The artefact merely powers the transition of soul from the dying body to the new born.”
“What if I refuse?”
“Then you get to live the entirety of your life again, in rewind, in the next few seconds.”
I somehow managed to grimace.
“What about the artefact? Who does it go to? Why did you give it to me?”
The little man shuffled. “The answer to those questions is not for you to know.” He looked at the watch.
“Your time is almost over. The serpent’s fangs are touching its tail.” His pupils dilated and he said, in an intimidating tone:
“Decide. What’s it going to be? Is the serpent going to rescind the way it came back, one last time? Or is it going to eat itself whole to begin anew?”
I closed my eyes, and sighed. I felt the last glimmer of life in me going out. But before I breathed my last, I managed to whisper:
“Another chance. Another chance...”
|
Arthur was tired. His time was near. He could feel it. He ran his finger over the watch in his pocket. He traced the snake from it's mouth to its tail. He sighed. He still wasn't sure what it meant. He felt cool wind on his face from the window as he thought back to the day. The strange man who had approached him when he was only about six years old. He thought back to his whole life. An ordinary life. That was the only thing that stood out to him.
He sat up straight. Wind? His window was closed. He looked at the open window and his eyes came to rest on the chair on his room.
"Hello Arthur."
"You?"
"I?"
"You are real. I always believed. People told me I was crazy."
"Maybe you are. Maybe we all are." The little man moved back on the chair to get more comfortable. "You have something for me?"
Arthur took out the watch. "What is this?"
"Ouroboros."
"Yeah, I know what the symbol is called. But what is it. I've had the watch for over a 100 years, but it has never told me the time. At least, never the correct one."
"It always told the right time. It's just in the wrong dimension."
"The wrong dimension?"
"Would you prefer the word Universe?"
"As in multiverses."
"Sure."
"That's just a theory."
"And yet here I am. I'm certainly not of this world."
"You... I... Am I dreaming?"
"No, you're not. This is real. I am real. The artifact is most certainly real. In fact, it's probably more real than any of us."
"The artifact?"
"The watch. It allows us to travel through the multiverse. And it binds us together."
"Together?"
"Let me tell you about my world. A world torn by war. The tyrant who rules with a literal iron fist. Magic is abundant. And prophecies. All your little fantasy stories basically take inspiration from our world."
"That sounds like bullshit."
He shrugged. "You don't have to believe it. Yet. Soon enough you will see it with your own eyes."
"What do you mean?"
He ignored the question. "This watch belonged to my friend. The prophecies anointed him as the chosen one. I was the faithful companion. And we came close. We did. But the tyrant was too much for us."
"Who is this tyrant?"
"A human."
"Like an actual human? Like me?"
"Yes. We don't know where he came from. But he did. And he was able to utilize the magic in our land better than any one of us could. He is stronger than us and took over our world. I realized that to have any chance to beat him, we would need to know him. As I held the dying chosen one in my arms, I knew then that we would need some outside help to beat him. Someone as powerful as him."
"Wait. Do you mean..."
"You, Arthur Dent. I need you to come with me. And save us."
"Me? I am weak. I'm on my deathbed."
He walked over to Arthur and used the steps to hop onto the hospital bed. He took the watch from Arthur and ran his hand over the snake as Arthur had done a while back.
"Ouroboros. This means infinity. This means wholeness. When I gave you the watch, it split you. A part of you is not completely human. It enabled you to live longer than most of your peers. But now, as your human part is getting closer to dying, the part of you that belongs in my world is getting closer to being. The circle of life."
"I don't understand any of this."
"You're no about to die Arthur. You're about to be born. You are the chosen one. The one to lead the revolution. Come Arthur Dent, fulfill your destiny."
A surge of adrenaline coursed through Arthur's body and a smile appeared in spite of himself. The ECG flatlined and the watch disappeared from his body.
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