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[WP] Human pack bonding is a running joke with the other races in the galaxy. They'll even 'befriend' random objects. Therefore it really confuses you that despite every effort no human seems to want to accept you into their pack. You finally work up the courage ask one why.
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The human was in his seat at the console. He poked at a small plastic imitation human with an oversized head that bobbled. The plastic's name was AJ.
"Hello John" I said, as I made my footsteps louder from behind him.
He spun around, his vital signs spiking to elevated levels, and shouted "FUCK!" and collapsed onto the floor backwards.
I made the mistake some time ago of thinking Fuck was a name of familiarity, as the human said it every time he saw me. I later learned that was... wrong.
"I do not understand you John" I said, as I watched him climb back up to his feet. "You see a piece of plastic and call it AJ, but you use profanity when I arrive, despite my performance record being exceptional, while AJ has no performance record at all."
He glanced at the bobbling plastic. "AJ is a Football player. The plastic is modeled after a real person, who has a career I like to follow, I don't like it because it's plastic, I like it because it's modeled after someone I like."
I looked at the bobbling plastic head.
With a flex, I pulled at the extruded hair, pulling the hair on my head back to short length. I pushed extra fluid into the cheeks in my face to expand the bones. Then constricted by eyes, and re-pigmented my irises.
John had crawled onto the console, back against the viewing window, and he was being irrationally loud. "FUCK! WHAT THE FUCK? HOLY FUCK WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT?!"
For a word that did not mean Me, he certainly said 'fuck' a lot when talking to me.
"Now you can call me AJ" I said, "I have taken on his appearance so you will see your favorite athlete when you look at me."
His pupils were diallated. And his hands were shaking. This discussion likely wasn't going well.
"What?!" He asked. But it sounded like one of those questions you weren't supposed to answer.
"Oh God, you did that to look like AJ? Oh God, you HAVE been trying to look human..." he spoke in a quiet voice, likely to himself rather than to me.
"Yes" I said, answering him anyway. "You pack bond once an object takes on a human form. I wish to pack bond."
"That's not..." he stammered. "You do NOT look human. You look like you want to fucking eat my flesh you freak."
That was unfair. I paused to look myself over. "I have the right facial features, the right number of fingers, hair on my head, and am within the bounds of normal human height and weight. What about me is not human looking?"
He stared at me. It took him longer than I thought to respond.
"Jeez man, you're like 8 feet tall, and you weigh like 100 pounds."
I nodded. "Humans reach 8 feet on occasion. And 100lbs is a fairly common weight among humans"
His eyes widened. "Not at the same time, and 100lbs isn't normal for an Adult, maybe for a teenager? And oh yeah YOU HAVE A BEAK"
I felt at my face. "It is a mouth, what is the difference?"
"The difference" he muttered, half to himself, "Is that everything you do to look human makes you look more freaky and terrifying rather than less."
I blinked at him with my eyes. I had been practicing that. His statement was illogical though. According to his logic, I should be easier to bond with if I looked LESS human.
My arms and legs split apart into a hundred fibrous micro appendages as I shed the human clothing I wore. I rolled the makeshift eyes out of my head, and pushed forward my natural beady black eyes.
With a motion like static charged carpet, I glided forward on a hundred long thin legs.
The human let out a long breath. "What the fuck, is that what you normally look like?" He asked.
"Yes I said. Now you know why I chose to take a form closer to yours."
"You're like a fuzzy little mop. With a bird head." He said, vitals steadying out again.
"Ima call you Birdmop"
|
"It's... well, dunno.... Weird."
I blinked three of my left optical aperture coverings unintentionally. The Terran Standard vocabulary was still difficult to understand at times when no user of it adhered to it's rules.
"'Weird.' That means... unusual, yes?"
"Yeah. someth' like that."
The female human - an unusual sexual dimorphism that I was still learning to discern - stuffed the last little bit of the brightly colored nutrition she was holding into her facial cavity with a satisfied grunt.
"I don't know why I am any more unusual than other things your species creates bonded pack organizations with."
The human, now in the middle of noisily drawing liquid water into her facial cavity through a small tube, looked at me sideways and made a strange gurgling sound, before the water she was consuming began spilling out of her upper air passage.
She immediately reacted by convulsing and spewing whatever she held in her cavity out.
"PF- ack- bastard! Shit, don't make me choke to death. HAH, Ya can't see what's unusual? Dude..."
I shifted my uncomfortable weight onto my rear legs. Human insistence on high artificial gravity in every sublight ship, despite the energy cost, still remained a mystery.
"Yes. You form emotional and social bonds with hundreds of different species both on and off your own planet. You create soft fabric objects depicted as caricatures of fictional creatures that levelled entire civilizations in your historical mythos, and then willingly slip into unconsciousness while holding them. I even observe you and other technicians talking and physically contacting various parts of the ship systems as if you have formed a connection with those inanimate mechanical devices and are treating them as a sick living being. It's quite amusing actually, it's clear that none of those systems can understand or feel your touch. Yet I, a living being, am often entirely ignored on this vessel by most other Terrans. Except for you."
She scanned me from top to bottom with her optics, and bared the teeth in her facial cavity before letting out another raucous sound towards the ceiling with her convulsions.
"Oh maaaan, they told me it was gon' be bizzare having a transfer on ship, but this really is someth' else."
"I only wish to be included more. This sort of close contact common among your species seems pleasing and I wish to experience it more."
"Were you seriously spying on Kael while he was fucking sleeping with that dragon plushie? That dude's Mr. Macho Man, hates admitting he's soft. He's only ever told me about that."
"We are an observer species. Collection of knowle-"
She slammed her fist down on the metal table with a crash, causing the empty polymer dish she was eating from to jump off the edge and clatter to the floor. Her previously upturned facial expressions were now pulled tight.
"Observer my FUCKING ASS. You're a species of creeps. I did plenty of research when I heard you were getting transferred but this is just - Jesus FUCKING christ."
The human stood from her seat on the narrow table bench and turned away, appendages covering her face with an exasperated groan before turning back to me. I tapped my talons together in acknowledgement of her discomfort, although I'm sure the gesture was lost.
"Look- okay, okay. I get it, your species is isolationist like a lot of xenos, and has no concept of non-technical social interaction. But you need to LEARN something about humans before you can 'learn'."
She was now moving back and forth at the end of the table, seemingly trying to burn off some invisible energy.
"We managed to blast our asses off our own polluted hunk of rock, sure, but we're still only a couple levels above scrabbling in the mud for scraps of rotten flesh. We make 'packs' with things because we're biologically wired to do so. You make a 'pack' with your fellow humans so there's more of you to fight off the tiger when it comes to eat you. Then it extended to local carnivores we could use to protect ourselves in exchange for a steady food source. Alone weak, together strong, yadda yadda. Those in packs survived longer than those who didn't, were able to fuck more, and that's how we ended up in this shitty situation. Somewhere along the line we got crossed wires and included tech into our 'packs' for the same reason of mutual survival.
"But the other thing you still don't get is there is a certain individualism that comes with us. We like to develop our packs and share our lives with them, but only the parts of our lives we WANT to share with them. You've just been... dunno, wandering around this ship staring. And then you're constantly asking really *really* weird insensitive questions that makes a lot of us uncomfortable. Feels like we're being trapped and personally invaded. It doesn't help that the whole lower half of your weird-ass upside down face looks like a goddamn holo camera with all that shit sticking out of it."
I reflexively blinked my optical coverings again at their mention. This situation was beginning to feel hostile. A brief flash of their species' violent history flitted across the back of my memory, and I began to wonder if I needed to leave.
"We humans can overlook a lot of weirdness, especially when you're funny and a good worker. Most other species figured that out quick. Hell there's even one that looks like a damn preying mantis from Earth ready to chew your head off, but they took to human sarcasm like a fish to water. Some of them even look cute. Yours, bah, not so much anywhere."
She exhaled roughly and squatted down to collect the polymer dish she had spilled earlier. With one quick motion, she deftly propelled it into the cleaning receptacle a couple meters to her side with a deafening clatter.
"Ugh... damnit. Sorry. that made me sound like a raging xenophobic asshole. Fuck. An engineering director should know better."
My upper antennae began to feel warmer than the environment, a reaction I was not used to feeling. The human picked up the body covering meant to shield her soft flesh from the sharp and abrasive mechanics of the vessel, and was sliding it over her appendages. I took this as a sign the situation was defused.
"I do feel... slightly offended. I do not hold it against you, though. There is clearly a larger communication barrier here than the Terran Standard lexicon."
"No shit, Sherlock. Okay, c'mon, let's hoof it. We have reactor heat exchangers to clean."
These pack-bonding species only grow ever more unusual. I begin to wonder if this posting was a mistake.
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[WP] For 24 hours anyone can respond to customers, coworkers and managers however they'd like without getting fired. Like the Purge, but instead of murder, it's brutal workplace honesty.
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I work in a hotel. It's definitely not the craziest job, but it, like any other customer service, has some nutjobs we deal with. Sure, the irrational drunks are somewhat difficult and the team moms for any sport get aggravating- don't even talk to me about the dads. But I have the one person I cannot stand- and today I found out they're coming into the hotel, on our purge day.
It's not a national holiday but it damn well should be. Hell, I wish it was a monthly holiday- a day to say what you mean to customers- but it's a once the year freebie my state offered after so much of the work force quit. Our bosses picked the day, day shift got a different one than afternoons and afternoons is different from us and days.
Oh yes. I'm the midnighter. The one you see when you come in at 2 am drunk as a skunk and trying to 'quietly' slide to your room. But not today! Today I finally get to say what I want to a guest I cannot stand.
Now, I like most of our police officers. They come in and have coffee, they chill out with me on block party nights as extra security- they're decent. But one. Just one. He's a Sergeant. I've dubbed him Sergeant Dipshit. Because he says all my hotel takes in is druggies, drunks and hookers.
I saw his name pop up in my incoming guest list. His wife, bless this woman, has made a reservation so after they have a charity night at our local art club, they don't have to go home to the kids- they get a room to themselves. Now she's a damn angel on earth. Charitable, kind, big hearted. She volunteers with our local Red Cross, and has brought me some of the people in need during their worst moments- and they've been as lucky as me to work with her. I love her. Abby. Her name is Abby.
His is actually Daniel, but Douche works just as much.
So now, I get to sit back and wait for them to come in. He'll come in first, because he always has to be the bigshot, can't even hold the door open for her like a mannered person would.
"Hey girl. I'm here to check in. Do it right this time. I know you're used to the druggies, drunks and hookers, but I pay attention. That's all you let in here."
Oh he's making this too damn easy, but I get to have fun at his expense. "I'm sorry, the room is in Abby's name, she has to sign the paper, not you."
"We're married, it's the same damn card!"
I tilt my head, sweet voice in tact. Customer service is imbued in me after all. "Yeah, but ya know how corporate is. Name on the reservation is the name that signs. Contracts aren't new to cops, ya'll tickets are the same thing."
"A ticket is a charge. Not the same. And I give them out to people who deserve them."
I hum to myself as Abby comes in. She doesn't know what hubby has said about my hotel or me and I get to enjoy this.
"Hey Daniel, does your wife know what you say about my hotel? About me?"
Now he's paying attention and so is Abby, her hand resting on the paper. "What does he say hon? It better be nice!"
"It's not. He says I only take in druggies, drunks and hookers."
I smirk as he looks down. "So Daniel, which one do you consider Abby and where do you fall? Hmm? Drunk, druggy or hooker? Cause I know what you do on the side, of course. You've come in six sheets to the wind drunk, you've been popping something in your coffee in my lobby and well, you pick up the same hooker enough you know her address, when she's working, which corner and her last ride- almost like you spent time with her or track her. So you tell me hmm?"
Abby went from mildly amused at what he said I brought in to absolutely pissed. "Hon, can you make that room for one? He's gonna be sleeping in his car, if he's lucky."
He looks at the floor after glaring at me, muttering something about making me sorry. This brings even more warm, fuzzy feelings to me. "Tonight's my last night dude, the only thing I'm sorry about is I waited so long to tell Abby. But she deserved happiness and watching you flail makes me giddy."
He raises his hand and I smirk. "ah ah. It's my purge night." I point to my badge, a little ribbon showed me as safe. "So touch me and your favorite friends in blue pick you up. Test me."
Hey, nobody told me the purge night had to be full of anger or fuck yous. Watching him finally sink onto the level he thought he was above- damn that makes me joyful.
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I've lined up all the people who came in five minutes before closing. I personally reserved a special place in hell for them for taking my time. One of them said to me, "I didn't mean to come in. It was super important!"
"Nothing that you need is that important enough for you to take me away from my time and family/friends," I said to her.
"I didn't know you were closed."
"If you opened your eyes, you would have noticed our open sign is off."
"You guys close at 7."
"That's correct. I still have to count the register, sweep, put up inventory, and deal with your inconsiderate ass." I would come back to them later. It's time I deal with the real degenerates that pissed me off over the last two years. I went into the back room, and about 20 or so people were muzzled and glaring at me. I pulled out my piece of paper and prepared for my monologue.
"I enjoy seeing each one of you muzzled. It's god damn beautiful. After two years of having to listen to your tinfoil conspiracies and your temper tantrums, finally, I have peace. Yeah, the mask mandate is down. Congratulations! It's no thanks to you! Millions died of a virus that you exposed others to. All because you couldn't stay home or wear a piece of cloth on your face!"
"So, of course, my workplace had to set policies. My workplace didn't pay me a dime extra either, so with your mewling about how this is unjust or unfair, or it's trampling my free speech! Fuck you." I said, taking extra care with my impressions to sound as whiney and annoying as possible. I couldn't do my impression justice.
"You all made my life a living hell. Kicking you fuckers out while you yelled at me, spat on me, potentially exposing my immune-compromised family members, you all are heartless. I even attempted to step in your shoes, and I tried to see from your side. I could see where you all were coming from. I could play Devil's advocate for you all but guess what. I spent a whole year doing curbside and only entered a store wearing a mask. It wasn't hard, and I didn't want to wear it. No one died. I only hated wearing it when I was forced to, thanks to you fucks extending the pain. I'm not going to be responsible for giving someone Covid."
"Next year, I will muzzle you all again. I remember each one of your names. Including you, Pamela. Especially you. I make sure to give you the worst customer service I can give you because I remember when you walked in my store testing positive."
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[WP] For 24 hours anyone can respond to customers, coworkers and managers however they'd like without getting fired. Like the Purge, but instead of murder, it's brutal workplace honesty.
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My mentor walked in with a smirk. Her email had been degrading, but the high horse she rode kept her feeling superior. She knew best. She always knew best.
“Hey girl!” she said cutely. I never understood why people thought she was nice. She always acted sweet, but I knew her true nature. She liked control. I was sure she always had.
I didn’t look up. I could see the frustration growing, as usual. I found that when I didn’t engage, I could get through the meetings. It frustrated her. Sometimes she told me I was cold, and reminded me that if I didn’t do this program, I would get fired.
The email she had sent spoke sweet rosy words, but just beneath the surface you could sense the rotting manipulations. She whined of how hard she tried to be a good mentor and connect with me, and ended the email with a reminder that hinted at a bold threat. It didn’t help that she CC’d my boss in the email.
I had responded by listing the facts of our dynamic, and reminding her that her job was to help me grow, not nitpick at microscopic details that left me perturbed. I also had noted my documented disability in the email. If she was going to threaten me, I felt comfortable threatening back.
She sat down in front of me. “What were your strengths this week?”
I raised an eyebrow and smiled sweetly. Today was the day. I finally had a chance to say what I wanted without consequences.
“Well,” I started, “I feel like everything went exactly according to plan this week.”
“Oh?” She said. “And what were your challenges?”
“Oh honey. The only ‘challenge’ I have is talking to you. You come in with a sweet smile that hides a truly vindictive nature. You’re me, but you failed. Why would you give up the joys of this job in order to go tell others how they’re doing their job wrong? I’m guessing it was because you got tired of it. And let me tell you, I’ve accomplished more in the last five years than you have in the time that I’ve been alive. You think I don’t have mentors? I am surrounded by support. You have nothing.”
My eyes glittered with rage, and my words dripped of cruel, unbridled revenge. Never had bitter words tasted so, so salty and sweet.
The look on her face was everything. She had never had someone talk back to her.
I knew how long she had done my job. Not long enough for her to deserve the job she had. I knew she went by a formula. They all did. But I had had enough of her degradations.
“I am no genius,” I said calmly. “But considering your advice, I’d bet anything that it took you a lot longer to figure out this job than it took me.”
There was fire in her eyes. But I hadn’t had enough. I wanted revenge.
She started to talk back to me, but I interrupted. “Enough. This is my space and you’re bugging me. Get out.”
She turned sharply on her heels and walked out the door, clopping with every step.
I took a deep breath. And then I started to weep.
|
I've lined up all the people who came in five minutes before closing. I personally reserved a special place in hell for them for taking my time. One of them said to me, "I didn't mean to come in. It was super important!"
"Nothing that you need is that important enough for you to take me away from my time and family/friends," I said to her.
"I didn't know you were closed."
"If you opened your eyes, you would have noticed our open sign is off."
"You guys close at 7."
"That's correct. I still have to count the register, sweep, put up inventory, and deal with your inconsiderate ass." I would come back to them later. It's time I deal with the real degenerates that pissed me off over the last two years. I went into the back room, and about 20 or so people were muzzled and glaring at me. I pulled out my piece of paper and prepared for my monologue.
"I enjoy seeing each one of you muzzled. It's god damn beautiful. After two years of having to listen to your tinfoil conspiracies and your temper tantrums, finally, I have peace. Yeah, the mask mandate is down. Congratulations! It's no thanks to you! Millions died of a virus that you exposed others to. All because you couldn't stay home or wear a piece of cloth on your face!"
"So, of course, my workplace had to set policies. My workplace didn't pay me a dime extra either, so with your mewling about how this is unjust or unfair, or it's trampling my free speech! Fuck you." I said, taking extra care with my impressions to sound as whiney and annoying as possible. I couldn't do my impression justice.
"You all made my life a living hell. Kicking you fuckers out while you yelled at me, spat on me, potentially exposing my immune-compromised family members, you all are heartless. I even attempted to step in your shoes, and I tried to see from your side. I could see where you all were coming from. I could play Devil's advocate for you all but guess what. I spent a whole year doing curbside and only entered a store wearing a mask. It wasn't hard, and I didn't want to wear it. No one died. I only hated wearing it when I was forced to, thanks to you fucks extending the pain. I'm not going to be responsible for giving someone Covid."
"Next year, I will muzzle you all again. I remember each one of your names. Including you, Pamela. Especially you. I make sure to give you the worst customer service I can give you because I remember when you walked in my store testing positive."
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[WP] For 24 hours anyone can respond to customers, coworkers and managers however they'd like without getting fired. Like the Purge, but instead of murder, it's brutal workplace honesty.
|
Verbal Immunity Day, or VID as it became to be known by, was unique amongst holidays. It was one that the boss never had to ask someone to sign up to work. So many people signed up that the call center had to hold a lottery.
George had not won that lottery, and he was pissed. 2 years on the floor and some
bastards from training lucked in to the tickets for his shift. But, George wasn’t one to waste an opportunity.
This explained why he was here, walking down the sidewalks of this fancy suburban neighborhood, dressed in as cool of clothes as he could, with a bottle of water, and a backpack.
He saw the home he was looking for. And to no surprise, it was a two story monstrosity. He walked up the sidewalk, through the manicured lawn, and past the obnoxiously tall columns to ring the bell. He glanced at the Escalade in the driveway as he waited for an answer.
A shrill voice emitted from the doorbell. “What do you want?!”
“Hello. Mrs. Bell? This is George. I’m from Wells Fargo.”
“What? Why are you at my house?”
“Well when we spoke yesterday, you mentioned you wanted answers. I thought I would personally come and provide those.”
“No you freak. Get off my property before I call the police!”
“Yes ma’am,” George replied, smiling. Perfect. Looks like George would be able to celebrate VID after all.
He walked out to the road, and dug in his backpack. He pulled out a bullhorn.
Clearing his throat, George lifted the bullhorn and shouted, “ATTENTION. ATTENTION. MAY I PLEASE HAVE YOUR ATTENTION!”
He gave it a moment. He saw the blinds move at Mrs. Bells house, and a few other housewives peeking out from neighboring houses.
“MRS BELL, THIS IS GEORGE FROM WELLS FARGO. I WANTED TO LET YOU KNOW WHY THE POWER BILL WAS RETURNED. I KNOW YOUR MONEY IS TIGHT WITH THE VEHICLE PAYMENTS AND ALL OF THOSE CREDIT CARD BILLS…”
At this point Mrs. Bell came out of the front door.
“Stop! Shut up you imbecile!”
“UNFORTUNATELY MR. BELL’S ACCOUNT BECAME OVERDRAWN,” George continued to shout. Mrs. Bell began to walk towards him angrily, but he continued. “UNFORTUNATELY, THIS CAUSED THE BALANCE TO FALL BELOW WHAT IS NEEDED FOR THE BILL. MR. BELL SHOULD HAVE KNOWN BECAUSE ASHLEY MADISON HAS BEEN BILLING HIM FOR OVER A YEAR. MAYBE HE IS SPENDING TOO MUCH ON OTHER WOMEN.”
Mrs. Bell froze. Her face turned pale as that sank in.
“I HOPE HIS MISTRESS IS MORE KIND THAN YOU, YOU SPOILED BROKE BITCH.”
With that, George nodded at the neighbors, and put the bullhorn back in the backpack.
And pulled out his list for the next house.
|
I tapped through my app. Today was Candor, and even the Silicon Valley geniuses had to acknowledge that.
I carefully chose an available order. Two medium sized grocery runs, payout was $30. Well, I’ll take it!
One customer was a nice woman I had helped before. She greeted me in the small chat box, saying, “I didn’t mean to order on Candor, but I remember you! You’re always good at this, and I’ll leave a bottle of water on the porch for you like usual.”
I sent back: “:). It’s not a problem. I’ll let you know if they’re out of anything on your list.”
Just then, another notification came through from the other customer, “I meant for my order to come last night, before Candor started. Oops!”
I quickly picked up, separated, and checked out the items, then set out on my way. I hugged the nice regular customer when I saw her, and offered to do shopping for her without the app- to cut out the middleman. She agreed.
Then, I hurried to the next house. The woman came out as I carried several bags up a long flight of outdoor stairs. “What took you so long?” She snapped.
Well, it *was* Candor.
“This business is exploitative and only pays $7-10 per group of deliveries. Yes, a group! Two or three orders are sent out together so that the company doesn’t have to pay more. That’s why it takes longer.” I dropped the bags, took a photo, and marked “delivered.”
Then, I saw the breakdown of both orders. She had not tipped. I only received an additional $2 for doing her ENTIRE order and delivering it.
“You see this? I was only paid $2 to find your stuff, wait in line, load and unload it, and bring it to you all the way out here. Your order was slow and paired with another one to hide that you did not tip. Tips are about 60% of my income. And, since it’s Candor today and…” I checked the time, “only 11 am…that’s enough time to post over social media and all the shop talk sites, and let everyone know where the cheap person lives. Hope you enjoy being blacklisted!”
I almost skipped to my car, despite my aching back.
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[WP] For 24 hours anyone can respond to customers, coworkers and managers however they'd like without getting fired. Like the Purge, but instead of murder, it's brutal workplace honesty.
|
Verbal Immunity Day, or VID as it became to be known by, was unique amongst holidays. It was one that the boss never had to ask someone to sign up to work. So many people signed up that the call center had to hold a lottery.
George had not won that lottery, and he was pissed. 2 years on the floor and some
bastards from training lucked in to the tickets for his shift. But, George wasn’t one to waste an opportunity.
This explained why he was here, walking down the sidewalks of this fancy suburban neighborhood, dressed in as cool of clothes as he could, with a bottle of water, and a backpack.
He saw the home he was looking for. And to no surprise, it was a two story monstrosity. He walked up the sidewalk, through the manicured lawn, and past the obnoxiously tall columns to ring the bell. He glanced at the Escalade in the driveway as he waited for an answer.
A shrill voice emitted from the doorbell. “What do you want?!”
“Hello. Mrs. Bell? This is George. I’m from Wells Fargo.”
“What? Why are you at my house?”
“Well when we spoke yesterday, you mentioned you wanted answers. I thought I would personally come and provide those.”
“No you freak. Get off my property before I call the police!”
“Yes ma’am,” George replied, smiling. Perfect. Looks like George would be able to celebrate VID after all.
He walked out to the road, and dug in his backpack. He pulled out a bullhorn.
Clearing his throat, George lifted the bullhorn and shouted, “ATTENTION. ATTENTION. MAY I PLEASE HAVE YOUR ATTENTION!”
He gave it a moment. He saw the blinds move at Mrs. Bells house, and a few other housewives peeking out from neighboring houses.
“MRS BELL, THIS IS GEORGE FROM WELLS FARGO. I WANTED TO LET YOU KNOW WHY THE POWER BILL WAS RETURNED. I KNOW YOUR MONEY IS TIGHT WITH THE VEHICLE PAYMENTS AND ALL OF THOSE CREDIT CARD BILLS…”
At this point Mrs. Bell came out of the front door.
“Stop! Shut up you imbecile!”
“UNFORTUNATELY MR. BELL’S ACCOUNT BECAME OVERDRAWN,” George continued to shout. Mrs. Bell began to walk towards him angrily, but he continued. “UNFORTUNATELY, THIS CAUSED THE BALANCE TO FALL BELOW WHAT IS NEEDED FOR THE BILL. MR. BELL SHOULD HAVE KNOWN BECAUSE ASHLEY MADISON HAS BEEN BILLING HIM FOR OVER A YEAR. MAYBE HE IS SPENDING TOO MUCH ON OTHER WOMEN.”
Mrs. Bell froze. Her face turned pale as that sank in.
“I HOPE HIS MISTRESS IS MORE KIND THAN YOU, YOU SPOILED BROKE BITCH.”
With that, George nodded at the neighbors, and put the bullhorn back in the backpack.
And pulled out his list for the next house.
|
Nikolai is a simple man with a simple job. He honestly works his 12-hour shift in hotel's kitchen, by 2/2 schedule, and he is always content with his duties. He never complains about work conditions, or how long time ago was his last raise.
So, when annual "Tell everything on your heart day" came, no one expected him to say anything - he never did for past 10 years, so why he would say anything now?
Because of this, when he suddenly walked in to the chief's office on his lunch break, everyone were shocked. "What, Nikolay went to chief?!", "So, something passes even him", "I thought I will never see this day".
Everyone started to gossip - what could possibly make Nikolai so sad that he went to chief? Some brought up the fact he was forced to postpone his vocation during stress work period for the hotel. Some thought he finally decided to force his promotion. Some imagined he just wanted to vent his anger on the chief. From cooks to dishwashers - everyone talked about, and no one knew the truth.
Finally, Nikolai steps out of the office. Whole kitchen holds their breath, no one is brave enough to ask "What did you say?". He sees this picture and asks:
"Hey, why are all of you so stressed?"
Nikolai was perfectly calm, as always. He just scratched his head in question to everybody else's reaction. Finally, someone asks:
"What did you tell the chef?"
Nikolai looks at the fellow colleagues and finally answers:
"Oh, I just told that new tomatoes are worse than those we bought from our old supplier and it would be better for hotel to renew partnership with previous one. Didn't you notice that new tomatoes are far worse than the old ones?"
His response left everyone speechless.
"Alright, I will go back to work"
Nikolai paid no mind to his surprise-stricken colleagues and calmly returned to his workplace, continuing his honest work of a honest man.
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[WP] There have been many sacrifices made to summon you, as well as a plethora of motives - from the extreme, to the simplistic, to the downright absurd. But one particular sacrifice catches your eye: a young child simply offering you a bar of chocolate, claiming that you, a deity, must be "hungry".
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Such sacrifice was...unexpected, to say the least.
Since that foolish war, those humans haven't stopped to offer me insignificant things in the hope of receiving my grace.
They were first overall, modest presents.
Idols, parts of the harvest, chants to my glory and organized prayers. Nothing they weren't already doing, just in a bigger scale this time.
Then, they would also give me jewellery. From the modest necklace of the farm woman to the expensive earrings made of diamonds and gems of the noble lady. They would cover me of gold and coins.
Not that any of it interested me. So they did more "spectacular". Each one-upping the other in a childish attempt to get my attention.
Those barbaric heathens... All of them !
Lustful of my recognition, priest scarified their arms and back with symbols supposed tho represent me.
They started giving me their enemies' head. To let their blood fill my pools.
Then, after a while, they thought it would be" sullying the Goddess' name to offer her heretics corpses".
So, they gave me their own flesh instead.
Those profane let their caws' hearts to rot in my temple.
Asked of mothers to give their firstborn child. The women would gleefully throat their screaming and terrified child in front of my statue.
The people would give and take their lives in tortuous ways.
It was sickening. They thought it was honouring me, but I was just disgusted in front of such display every single day.
Worst is, they weren't even venerating me, not even caring about the Divinity they claimed to adore.
They only wanted more things of me. More strength to win a war they already won.
Every single one of them but a child.
The chubby and wobbly being entered my temple when none was the wiser. Not older than three from the look of him.
He must have escaped the watch of his mother when they were at the market.
The small child got near to my feet, where the sacrifices were resting, and sat down
At first, I thought he was like any zealots and paid him no mind. I know to be disappointed. But he surprised me.
He took of his pocket a bar of what those mortals call "chocolate" and was about to eat it when he looked around.
Disgust inhabited the child's eyes, seeing the rotting flesh and stalling blood.
With a light lisp not unusual at his age, he inquired to me:
"It doesn't seem good."
It was silly, really. I am an ethereal being, I could not eat. It's not like I cared about tastiness, nor was it a problem for me.
But the young boy didn't thing so, since he broke the brown bar in half and put one of them on the only clean spot of the offering bench.
"You must be hungry. Here's chocolate ! It's yummy !" he exclaimed with such innocence.
An innocence that oddly reached me.
It was the first time one of my follower worried about my hunger or if the food offered would be to my taste.
They only ever did those gifts so to gain something of me in the first place.
But he, wanted nothing of me. He wasn't trying to bribe me or to get my blessing.
He only wanted to share some sweet he liked with me. It awoke a flame in me.
For the first time since creation, I wanted to do something for a human.
To bless one.
I wanted this little boy to never be hungry, even if they all famished for him.
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"Mother said you would like chocolate."
A young boy stared at me.
"you must be hungry, so take it."
I scoffed as I looked away. The boy's big eyes followed the hand he offered his sweet dessert to as I tucked it under the folds of my coarse cloak. The joyful curve of his lip faltered, rosy red cheeks puffed in a pout. The crinkle of loud foil filled the empty halls with a sort of crackling noise. Without sparing a glance at the boy, I started to walk away. I was not here for trivial matters such as entertaining the young prince. It was not stated in my contract.
"Wait!" The boy called after me, "Mother said that if I offered you a sacrifice, you'd sign a contract with me."
I ignored him and kept on walking. The soft clicking of two pairs of shoes echoed. Heavy pants of breath escaped the boy's mouth as he continued to chase after me and shout.
"Hey! Hey!" They boy managed to squeeze out between gasps for air, "Mother said you'd accept this! She says you'd like the chocolate! C'mon, just try it!"
I turned sharpy toward the young prince.
"Boy. Do you know the number of souls who have sought to sign a contract with me?"
The boy also stopped walking to stare me in the eyes, only to look as if he were a fish out of the water, his mouth forming circular shapes to suck in air.
I continued to speak.
"I am, as they call me, a deity. A god, per se. One who grants wishes of war. Boy, if only you were acquainted with half of the souls I've served. If only you heard their tales of woe and seen their hearts of greed. A little prince - no, a little boy - holds but a speck of influence towards whom I decide to serve."
The boy's brow was furrowed. It didn't seem like he understood any of what I had just said. All he knew was to continue following behind me. Every day he would bring a different kind of chocolate. Some days it was an old-fashioned bar with chopped almonds, and other days it was a dessert designed by the head chief of the palace with ingredients which cost could feed an entire peasant family of three for a month at the least. Of course, his measly sacrifice was denied each and every time. Yet he still came back.
One fall afternoon, when the leaves were browning and scattered across the ground like a puzzle not yet fitted together, we sat together on a bench in a garden. The boy sat, eating sticky chocolate from his hands. A cool breeze carrying the scent of the crisp earth blew by, ruffling the boy's hair as he looked up from the mess he had smeared all over his hands. He then looked at me, with a mouth stuffed with sickly sweet dessert, and asked once more his favorite question.
"Want some chocolate?"
I didn't answer him, nor did I look up from my reading. I too asked a question.
"What is it you have to gain, boy? Is it riches? Revenge? Or... perhaps the revival of a past loved one? If so, I must inform you that I cannot grant that wish. Tampering with a balance of life and death is costly, and the price is not one even I can pay."
"No," The boy replied, "I just wanted a friend."
I finally looked at the boy, my eyes wide with surprise.
"But now," The boy spoke again, "I feel like we're already friends. So isn't the chocolate pointless then?"
There was silence. The boy's cheery smile beamed through the muddle of emotions swirling in my chest. Perhaps I would give it a try, being a mortal's friend.
Time passed in a flash. Maybe it was only weeks, or maybe even months or years. My sense of time had long faded. The boy continued to act as if a baby duck, although I did not mind it as much as I initially thought I would. We passed our days in the garden, reading books, picking flowers, and telling stories. The boy always listened with wide eyes and a big smile. I shared my life with the boy. I shared everything with him. He became the only one I trusted, and I to him. He shared with me his precious chocolate, so much so that the head chief began to recognize my face and ask what unique flavoring I would prefer whenever I had the chance to see him.
"I was wondering," The boy asked one day, "Can you die? I've been wondering that for a while now." The boy's voice had grown more mature, I noticed that now. "Mother told me that all people must die. But you're not a person, not a mortal. Tell me, can you die?"
"Why? Do you plan on taking my life?"
"I don't. I'm just curious."
A small pause. I leaned in towards the boy.
"I can."
"I thought you were immortal."
"I'm not. I'm simply a deity. I cannot die unless pierced in the heart with a dagger by the hand of one whom I trust."
"Who you trust?"
"You, boy, are the only soul who is not overcome with merciless desire. You are the only one whom I trust."
"Is that so?"
Another pause before the boy starts once more.
"What happens when you die? Where do you go?"
"That I do not know. However, I have been informed that when a being of my standing passes, one wish can be granted. Any wish. Including the revival of a loved one long passed."
"Really?"
"Of course. You sacrifice one and receive another of equal value. To disturb the balance of life and death - that requires a sacrifice of great value."
"Oh." Is all he said. After that, there was only more quiet.
Time continued to fly like a baby bluebird in the face of a great hawk. Unaware of how much time had truly passed by me, I had realized the boy was spending less and less time by my side. I began to think maybe he had grown out of me, and now that he was older he would naturally spend less time with me. One night, he visited my chambers, his hands tucked neatly into his pockets.
"Hello, boy." I started, trying to mask the excitement in my voice. It had been a while since the boy had last come to my room at night. Would he ask me to read him a book? Tell him a story?
"I want to ask you questions." His voice was shaky.
"Then I'll answer said questions."
"Are those stories, the ones you used to tell me, are they real?" The boy was coming closer and closer to me.
"Of course. Why would I lie."
"It was... It was just a question." I noticed his breath was short and shallow.
"Boy, you've become... different lately."
The boy flinched. "How so?"
"No, it's nothing to be nervous about. Perhaps it's because you've grown. You are no longer a boy. You will make a fine king."
There was silence.
The boy suddenly burst out with a loud shout. "My mother, she's sick."
"Your mother?"
"That's right, you've never met her."
"I've always wished to one day."
"I love my mother. And you too."
The boy was unusually close.
"Boy, are you alright? Did something happen."
"I love you, deity."
A tear rolled down his cheek. An arm extended, pulling his hand out of his pocket. And in his hand, gripped tightly, was a dagger of silver. I could have deflected it. I could have. But I didn't. I let it happen. Before I realized it, this boy became my everything. He was everything to me. And I knew. I already knew long ago, that his mother was sick. I was in close relations with the king, of course I would know. And I knew that she had passed away already. I knew why the boy was drifting apart from me. I knew why he came into my room that night. I already knew I was going to let him kill me for his mother. I just ignored it. Pushed it out of my mind. Found excuses.
I hope, at the very least, my precious little prince can find happiness in my death.
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[WP] There have been many sacrifices made to summon you, as well as a plethora of motives - from the extreme, to the simplistic, to the downright absurd. But one particular sacrifice catches your eye: a young child simply offering you a bar of chocolate, claiming that you, a deity, must be "hungry".
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Such sacrifice was...unexpected, to say the least.
Since that foolish war, those humans haven't stopped to offer me insignificant things in the hope of receiving my grace.
They were first overall, modest presents.
Idols, parts of the harvest, chants to my glory and organized prayers. Nothing they weren't already doing, just in a bigger scale this time.
Then, they would also give me jewellery. From the modest necklace of the farm woman to the expensive earrings made of diamonds and gems of the noble lady. They would cover me of gold and coins.
Not that any of it interested me. So they did more "spectacular". Each one-upping the other in a childish attempt to get my attention.
Those barbaric heathens... All of them !
Lustful of my recognition, priest scarified their arms and back with symbols supposed tho represent me.
They started giving me their enemies' head. To let their blood fill my pools.
Then, after a while, they thought it would be" sullying the Goddess' name to offer her heretics corpses".
So, they gave me their own flesh instead.
Those profane let their caws' hearts to rot in my temple.
Asked of mothers to give their firstborn child. The women would gleefully throat their screaming and terrified child in front of my statue.
The people would give and take their lives in tortuous ways.
It was sickening. They thought it was honouring me, but I was just disgusted in front of such display every single day.
Worst is, they weren't even venerating me, not even caring about the Divinity they claimed to adore.
They only wanted more things of me. More strength to win a war they already won.
Every single one of them but a child.
The chubby and wobbly being entered my temple when none was the wiser. Not older than three from the look of him.
He must have escaped the watch of his mother when they were at the market.
The small child got near to my feet, where the sacrifices were resting, and sat down
At first, I thought he was like any zealots and paid him no mind. I know to be disappointed. But he surprised me.
He took of his pocket a bar of what those mortals call "chocolate" and was about to eat it when he looked around.
Disgust inhabited the child's eyes, seeing the rotting flesh and stalling blood.
With a light lisp not unusual at his age, he inquired to me:
"It doesn't seem good."
It was silly, really. I am an ethereal being, I could not eat. It's not like I cared about tastiness, nor was it a problem for me.
But the young boy didn't thing so, since he broke the brown bar in half and put one of them on the only clean spot of the offering bench.
"You must be hungry. Here's chocolate ! It's yummy !" he exclaimed with such innocence.
An innocence that oddly reached me.
It was the first time one of my follower worried about my hunger or if the food offered would be to my taste.
They only ever did those gifts so to gain something of me in the first place.
But he, wanted nothing of me. He wasn't trying to bribe me or to get my blessing.
He only wanted to share some sweet he liked with me. It awoke a flame in me.
For the first time since creation, I wanted to do something for a human.
To bless one.
I wanted this little boy to never be hungry, even if they all famished for him.
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"Aw, hell. Now THAT was a fun battle." I plopped my rear on the edge of a playground. It was pretty abandoned, with all the brightly colored bits and bobbles just lightly swaying in the wind with no kids in sight. No surprise there. There was a war going on and nobody wanted to send their little ones out into a potential crossfire. Not that I'd mind.
"Their loss," I muttered. Being a Guardian of War ment that I get called pretty often when blood boils between rival factions and eventually summoned when my own rival gets involved and fighting breaks out. Though this time, he had better things to do. So, that left me to rampage with no opposition to oppose me. Absolute carnage.
"Um...miss?" I little voice called out to me. I turned to see a little street urchin just standing there looking at me. "Are you lost, miss?"
"Nah. Just sunning here. Want something?" I asked. He probably wants to swindle me into giving him some money in exchange for directions to the nearest safe place. I'll probably just humor him and then ditch him once I get bored.
"I...um...," the kid stumbled over his words.
"Well? What is it?"
"You..You're very pretty! Will you go out with me!?"
I stared in disbelief. The kid was barely into his teens and he had the guts to even talk to me where most men shrivel and cower before me from hearing my name. He probably doesn't know who I am, or is trying to hook up before he moves onto Death's realm. Either way, this could be fun to humor him.
"Oh?" I started. "A bold request from such a charming young man. Tell me, do you have such a gift to win over such a 'pretty lady' such as myself?"
The kid immediately patted all his pockets to find something. Until he pulled out a bar of chocolate, still mostly uneaten and clean.
"I have this?" He suggested. "You look kinda hungry?" He tried giving his most sincere smile, but he really just looked nervous.
Honestly, I had low standards to begin with, but this was a bit lower than that. I was kinda hoping for a flower, but on second thought, this would probably do. I'm in the mood for some chocolate.
I reached over a broke a piece off. "This will suffice for a day." I tossed it into my mouth and savored it. "Now then, where shall we go for a date? Just keep it proper, alright? I'm no pickup."
"I...uh," the kid fumbled. "Guess I could start with your name?"
I smiled. "Illiana, but you can call me Illia."
"Like that War Guardian?" He asked.
"Yeah, just like her. Maybe you'll meet her someday and ask her out?" I teased.
"No way," he said. "I bet you're way prettier than her."
Oh, you poor sweet boy, i mused. If only you knew.
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[WP] There have been many sacrifices made to summon you, as well as a plethora of motives - from the extreme, to the simplistic, to the downright absurd. But one particular sacrifice catches your eye: a young child simply offering you a bar of chocolate, claiming that you, a deity, must be "hungry".
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The call was unmistakable. After so many years of still quiet the sacrifice flashed across my awareness like a star across my sky.
"--And for nighty-night a kiss!" She whispered as she deliberately and carefully sat the small chocolate on the open windowsill.
I do not ask to be let in, as I am already there. *I APPRECIATE YOUR SACRIFICE, CHILD*
Her eyes grew in surprise but she stayed relatively quiet, after all her raiding of the candy drawer was only possible when everyone was asleep. "--Oh!" She started quietly, "nighty-night?" She asked.
*NIGHT* I agreed with a nod. *WHAT BOON DO YOU ASK OF ME?*
She sat for a moment, chewing a gummy candy. "Wanna be friends?"
*THE PACT IS SEALED*
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The ground trembled as the deity formed seemingly out of thin air in front of the young girl. It writhed out of a point in the air that seemed to come from negative space, a tear in reality itself. As it continued clambering out, its form was surprisingly humanoid, its features fair and slender, matching a lot of the elves of the land. Apart from that, however, were massive fanged teeth and a sturdy, strong build that matched up more with the orcs. It was like an amalgamation of all of the races, like a joined ancestor.
"Why have I been summoned, my child?" The voice rang out clear and melodic, soft but filling the air with pressure. Its eyes focused on the one who had summoned it. A small thing, green-skinned and golden-eyed, definitely a young orc. She was grinning ear to ear, a sweet and innocent smile the likes of which can only be worn by one free of the world's injustice.
"IT WORKED! PAPA WAS TELLING THE TRUTH! YOU DO EXIST!" The excited shrieks of the young child rang out in the air before the deity, causing it to seemingly grin with the dance she did to accompany her victory.
"Ah, I thought you looked familiar. The resemblance is clear now. I shall ask again, however: why have I been summoned?" The deity was nothing if not task oriented.
"Well, Papa tells me stories of you almost every night. Of your blessings and travels. And I know I get really hungry even just after playing a little bit, so you have got to be STARVING!" The little one rummaged through the small pack she had with her, while still slightly dancing with excited energy, her sewn dress twirling in the air. "HERE! This is for you." Triumphant, she produced a half melted chocolate bar, holding it up like a precious artifact.
A moment of understanding came upon the deity, a large grin spreading across its face. "Most have tried to lure me with deeds and riches, animals and finely crafted materials. But few understand that I desire that which is closest to one's heart, the hardest things to give up being worth the most," the deity gingerly reached a hand down, meeting the girl's own holding up the treat, "and this is a suitable sacrifice indeed."
The girl's smile faded as the deity's grew larger, becoming sick and saccharine. His grip wasn't on the chocolate, but her wrist, and her excited innocence turned to confusion, then horrible understanding as she was lifted into the air towards the deity's expanding maw, now cracking into 4 massive mandibles.
The last thing heard would be a terrible scream that filled the air with stillness. Minutes later, the deity would grin and say aloud to itself, "She was right about one thing. I was starving."
"You. You're back." Came a voice from the nearby woods. A green-skinned, golden-eyed fully grown orc man, powerful and dressed elegantly, emerged and stared at the deity for the second time in his life. "I suppose it has been 20 years. That was the deal. You're here to collect your payment. To collect my soul."
A horrible noise rang out in the form of the deity's laughter, "Oh, you all are so small minded. I told you I would come back for a sacrifice, a true sacrifice. And that it would doom your soul, not collect it. Death is so boring, but torment is delicious. Worry you not, your payment has already been made. Our ledger is balanced. May you continue your conquests with all the power and riches I have granted you." With a wink, the deity collapsed back into the air, once again separate from reality.
At first the orc grinned, "Well, it seems like I had nothing to wor-" the words caught in his throat as his smile turned to confusion, then horrible understanding as he saw the torn and bloody fragments of his daughters dress twisting in the wind from a nearby bush.
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[WP] There have been many sacrifices made to summon you, as well as a plethora of motives - from the extreme, to the simplistic, to the downright absurd. But one particular sacrifice catches your eye: a young child simply offering you a bar of chocolate, claiming that you, a deity, must be "hungry".
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The call was unmistakable. After so many years of still quiet the sacrifice flashed across my awareness like a star across my sky.
"--And for nighty-night a kiss!" She whispered as she deliberately and carefully sat the small chocolate on the open windowsill.
I do not ask to be let in, as I am already there. *I APPRECIATE YOUR SACRIFICE, CHILD*
Her eyes grew in surprise but she stayed relatively quiet, after all her raiding of the candy drawer was only possible when everyone was asleep. "--Oh!" She started quietly, "nighty-night?" She asked.
*NIGHT* I agreed with a nod. *WHAT BOON DO YOU ASK OF ME?*
She sat for a moment, chewing a gummy candy. "Wanna be friends?"
*THE PACT IS SEALED*
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POEM
A pick of miracles and monsoons,
They promised me for my boons,
But their silver is tawdry, smiles vile,
Thinking of their wishes rises my bile.
But when the child came peering,
Oft the barren path veering,
Its hand cupping a half bitten bite,
That was a more valuable sight.
Dirt dressed it, sweat shined it-
Best of all, its soul smiled it;
Putting its hand forward it offered
A timid share of its timid prospers.
Plucked out of its hand in a quick swipe,
Biting into the already half eaten ripe,
My heart goes happy and bright,
As does my power thrum and delight.
A gift to the gods is a novel thing,
Among a universe of wanting beings.
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[WP] There have been many sacrifices made to summon you, as well as a plethora of motives - from the extreme, to the simplistic, to the downright absurd. But one particular sacrifice catches your eye: a young child simply offering you a bar of chocolate, claiming that you, a deity, must be "hungry".
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The call was unmistakable. After so many years of still quiet the sacrifice flashed across my awareness like a star across my sky.
"--And for nighty-night a kiss!" She whispered as she deliberately and carefully sat the small chocolate on the open windowsill.
I do not ask to be let in, as I am already there. *I APPRECIATE YOUR SACRIFICE, CHILD*
Her eyes grew in surprise but she stayed relatively quiet, after all her raiding of the candy drawer was only possible when everyone was asleep. "--Oh!" She started quietly, "nighty-night?" She asked.
*NIGHT* I agreed with a nod. *WHAT BOON DO YOU ASK OF ME?*
She sat for a moment, chewing a gummy candy. "Wanna be friends?"
*THE PACT IS SEALED*
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There are not as many altars to me as before, but I am far from forgotten. The privileged and the downtrodden alike look to me to correct some ill. Some large, some small, but always a want. Humans are a selfish bunch, by and large, but I do still love them in my way. I no longer manifest myself physically to them, or grant them their desires, but I do watch over them. I see the gifts they bring to the altar, and I hear their prayers. Their gifts hold no value to me, per se, but I see what the gifts mean to them and understand their worth accordingly.
Today, a young boy, at a make shift altar under a bridge, called meekly to me. His call stood out because his gift, a small piece of chocolate, was not attached to any desires. He was simply calling to me out of concern for my wellbeing. Me, a god, immortal. It struck me unusual, so I broke from tradition, and decided to appear before him. So as not to scare him unnecessarily, I spoke first.
"Boy. You call to me. Why?"
The young boy stood up, and stared at the altar. He was disheveled and dirty. The chocolate clearly would have been better served in his belly. His eyes grew wide, and he looked as if to run. I asked again.
"Boy. I have answered your call, do not fear. Calm, now. I will take a form for you."
I manifested myself as a man in his presence. The floor of the bridge above was so low that in order to manifest completely on the right side of the floor I appeared before him, kneeling myself. I raised up to one knee, and we were nearly eye to eye.
"Wh-who? What are you?" The boy asked me.
"You do not know? To whom did you call?" A wave of understanding and wonder crossed the boys face. "There you are. Now, why did you offer me this gift? Or better, how did you come to know me? There are many who no longer remember my name."
"I just, I just wanted to make sure you are taken care of. My la-la used to tell me of you when I was a child, and it has been years since I've heard your name."
"Your la-la is passed." The boy nodded. "And your parents?"
"Gone."
"So it is just you, then? Yes? You are but a child still yourself, surely you are not alone?"
"I have some friends, but no family, no."
"This gift you have given me. It is small, but necessary to your wellbeing. And you tell me you have no one, and it is clear that you have nothing. What is your name?"
"Quez," the boy said, looking a bit ashamed at his situation laid bare.
I led the boy from under the bridge and raised him up, straightening his ill fitting clothes. "Fitting. Today, Quez, you have family. And forever more. For Quetzalcoatl shall be your family. Now come, let us find you more chocolate. I think I shall keep this form for a while."
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[WP] There have been many sacrifices made to summon you, as well as a plethora of motives - from the extreme, to the simplistic, to the downright absurd. But one particular sacrifice catches your eye: a young child simply offering you a bar of chocolate, claiming that you, a deity, must be "hungry".
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I reach out my arms. My fingers, long and skinny, suport my body as i twist my way out of the summoning portal on the floor. My lean figure barely fits in the room even though i'm balled up with my back against the roof.
The colorful hair on my carapace feels the cold wind comming trough the small window. My antenne twitching against the single lamp in the room. My right feet underneath a small bed and my left ontop of a bookcase. One of my spikey elbows digging in the wooden floor and the other bent around the support beams of the roof above me. My moth like wings pushed against me because the lack of space.
My compound eyes see everything in the room. But are focused on the small girl in the center of the room. Only now do i realize that i somehow managed to bend and twist around her without actually touching her.
"Hi." i said. My voice clicking and rasping as i spoke. I twisted my head slightly to focus on her a bit more with one of my eyes.
"Hi." She said back. "You like chocolate?"
There was a way to how she said it that intrigued me.
"Depends, what kind?" I rasped back.
"I have dark and milk chocolate, you want any of these?" She asked. Her black hair falling infront of her face as she tilted her head during the question. Casually flipping it back with one hand.
"Too bitter." I replied.
"Even the milk one? It's like the sweetest brand i know." She voiced in slight disbelief.
"Yes, even milk. Don't have almond paste?" I asked, my antenne twitching as i said almond. My head moving closer to look closely at the offerings in her hands.
The chocolate bars looked unappealing. To much collor and clearly marketed to kids. Altough she was not an adult she wasn't a kid either.
"How old are you?" I asked.
"16" she responded." And no i don't have almonds or almond paste, sorry." Her face looked a bit sad all of a sudden.
"Why are you sad?" I asked.
"I wanted to do something nice for you. It makes me feel better, usually." The end of her sentence seemed off.
"It didn't this time?"
"Well i didn't really do anything for you did I?" Her voice sounded as sad as she looked.
Downstairs, I heard a glass vase break followed by a bunch of yellong.
"My head turned to allow my other compound eye to focus on her intead. It suprised me to see how little she reacted to it.
"Most people are scared to see my face this close." I said, more to my self than to her.
"Why? Your so cute and fluffy! Like a giant moth man."
"I am a giant moth man!" I grumbled annoyed.
A silence fell for a few moments. The cold night air still flowing from the small window.
More yelling came from down stairs.
"Why did you really summon me, little one?" I asked finally.
"Like i said, I wanted to make you happy."
"To feel better about yourself. You already said that. But that is not really why is it. It also isn't as simple as you wanting to feel better. You could just give a friend that chocolate tomorrow intead." I looked at the door. Pointing with one antenna and tapping her head with the other, I continued. "You aren't afraid of me because you know something a lot more scary than me."
She pulled the hood if her hoodie over her head and hide her face as much as she could in it. Only her fingers where stikking out of her sleeves instead of her whole hand.
Another yell and something breaking downstairs folowed by sobbing.
I looked at her again. "Do you want a hug?" I asked.
She only nodded and wrapped her armes around my neck. My fluffy fur tickeling as she rubbed her wet cheeks against it.
Heavy footsteps started to climb the stairs.
"Don't worry little lamp, this fluffy moth man won't let any harm come to your little light. No need for chocolate or almond paste."
The footsteps stoped infront of the door, and someone seemed to fumble with the doorknob. Frustration seemed clear asit appears that its locked from the inside.
"You little shit. Open this door right fucking now." The voice yelled.
She hugged me tighter. "Please don't leave." She begged quietly.
I moved one of my long arms to pull her closser to me.
"I said open the fucking door!" The voice outside yelled. As they started to pound on the door.
"Do you want me to scare them? Like how they scare you?" I asked softly. Taping her head with my antenne.
Nodding in to me she wisppered. "Dous that make me as bad as them?"
"No little lamp, you want to scare them to make it stop. They do not." I comforted her.
My free hand moved, from around the beams above my head, to the door. My long fingers twisting the key slowly to unlock it.
"Hold tight little lamp. Keep your eyes closed and ignore the sound." I t'chitered as i unlocked the door fully. "It is time we take care of the dark that wants to eat the light of my little lamp."
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There are not as many altars to me as before, but I am far from forgotten. The privileged and the downtrodden alike look to me to correct some ill. Some large, some small, but always a want. Humans are a selfish bunch, by and large, but I do still love them in my way. I no longer manifest myself physically to them, or grant them their desires, but I do watch over them. I see the gifts they bring to the altar, and I hear their prayers. Their gifts hold no value to me, per se, but I see what the gifts mean to them and understand their worth accordingly.
Today, a young boy, at a make shift altar under a bridge, called meekly to me. His call stood out because his gift, a small piece of chocolate, was not attached to any desires. He was simply calling to me out of concern for my wellbeing. Me, a god, immortal. It struck me unusual, so I broke from tradition, and decided to appear before him. So as not to scare him unnecessarily, I spoke first.
"Boy. You call to me. Why?"
The young boy stood up, and stared at the altar. He was disheveled and dirty. The chocolate clearly would have been better served in his belly. His eyes grew wide, and he looked as if to run. I asked again.
"Boy. I have answered your call, do not fear. Calm, now. I will take a form for you."
I manifested myself as a man in his presence. The floor of the bridge above was so low that in order to manifest completely on the right side of the floor I appeared before him, kneeling myself. I raised up to one knee, and we were nearly eye to eye.
"Wh-who? What are you?" The boy asked me.
"You do not know? To whom did you call?" A wave of understanding and wonder crossed the boys face. "There you are. Now, why did you offer me this gift? Or better, how did you come to know me? There are many who no longer remember my name."
"I just, I just wanted to make sure you are taken care of. My la-la used to tell me of you when I was a child, and it has been years since I've heard your name."
"Your la-la is passed." The boy nodded. "And your parents?"
"Gone."
"So it is just you, then? Yes? You are but a child still yourself, surely you are not alone?"
"I have some friends, but no family, no."
"This gift you have given me. It is small, but necessary to your wellbeing. And you tell me you have no one, and it is clear that you have nothing. What is your name?"
"Quez," the boy said, looking a bit ashamed at his situation laid bare.
I led the boy from under the bridge and raised him up, straightening his ill fitting clothes. "Fitting. Today, Quez, you have family. And forever more. For Quetzalcoatl shall be your family. Now come, let us find you more chocolate. I think I shall keep this form for a while."
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[WP] There have been many sacrifices made to summon you, as well as a plethora of motives - from the extreme, to the simplistic, to the downright absurd. But one particular sacrifice catches your eye: a young child simply offering you a bar of chocolate, claiming that you, a deity, must be "hungry".
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I reach out my arms. My fingers, long and skinny, suport my body as i twist my way out of the summoning portal on the floor. My lean figure barely fits in the room even though i'm balled up with my back against the roof.
The colorful hair on my carapace feels the cold wind comming trough the small window. My antenne twitching against the single lamp in the room. My right feet underneath a small bed and my left ontop of a bookcase. One of my spikey elbows digging in the wooden floor and the other bent around the support beams of the roof above me. My moth like wings pushed against me because the lack of space.
My compound eyes see everything in the room. But are focused on the small girl in the center of the room. Only now do i realize that i somehow managed to bend and twist around her without actually touching her.
"Hi." i said. My voice clicking and rasping as i spoke. I twisted my head slightly to focus on her a bit more with one of my eyes.
"Hi." She said back. "You like chocolate?"
There was a way to how she said it that intrigued me.
"Depends, what kind?" I rasped back.
"I have dark and milk chocolate, you want any of these?" She asked. Her black hair falling infront of her face as she tilted her head during the question. Casually flipping it back with one hand.
"Too bitter." I replied.
"Even the milk one? It's like the sweetest brand i know." She voiced in slight disbelief.
"Yes, even milk. Don't have almond paste?" I asked, my antenne twitching as i said almond. My head moving closer to look closely at the offerings in her hands.
The chocolate bars looked unappealing. To much collor and clearly marketed to kids. Altough she was not an adult she wasn't a kid either.
"How old are you?" I asked.
"16" she responded." And no i don't have almonds or almond paste, sorry." Her face looked a bit sad all of a sudden.
"Why are you sad?" I asked.
"I wanted to do something nice for you. It makes me feel better, usually." The end of her sentence seemed off.
"It didn't this time?"
"Well i didn't really do anything for you did I?" Her voice sounded as sad as she looked.
Downstairs, I heard a glass vase break followed by a bunch of yellong.
"My head turned to allow my other compound eye to focus on her intead. It suprised me to see how little she reacted to it.
"Most people are scared to see my face this close." I said, more to my self than to her.
"Why? Your so cute and fluffy! Like a giant moth man."
"I am a giant moth man!" I grumbled annoyed.
A silence fell for a few moments. The cold night air still flowing from the small window.
More yelling came from down stairs.
"Why did you really summon me, little one?" I asked finally.
"Like i said, I wanted to make you happy."
"To feel better about yourself. You already said that. But that is not really why is it. It also isn't as simple as you wanting to feel better. You could just give a friend that chocolate tomorrow intead." I looked at the door. Pointing with one antenna and tapping her head with the other, I continued. "You aren't afraid of me because you know something a lot more scary than me."
She pulled the hood if her hoodie over her head and hide her face as much as she could in it. Only her fingers where stikking out of her sleeves instead of her whole hand.
Another yell and something breaking downstairs folowed by sobbing.
I looked at her again. "Do you want a hug?" I asked.
She only nodded and wrapped her armes around my neck. My fluffy fur tickeling as she rubbed her wet cheeks against it.
Heavy footsteps started to climb the stairs.
"Don't worry little lamp, this fluffy moth man won't let any harm come to your little light. No need for chocolate or almond paste."
The footsteps stoped infront of the door, and someone seemed to fumble with the doorknob. Frustration seemed clear asit appears that its locked from the inside.
"You little shit. Open this door right fucking now." The voice yelled.
She hugged me tighter. "Please don't leave." She begged quietly.
I moved one of my long arms to pull her closser to me.
"I said open the fucking door!" The voice outside yelled. As they started to pound on the door.
"Do you want me to scare them? Like how they scare you?" I asked softly. Taping her head with my antenne.
Nodding in to me she wisppered. "Dous that make me as bad as them?"
"No little lamp, you want to scare them to make it stop. They do not." I comforted her.
My free hand moved, from around the beams above my head, to the door. My long fingers twisting the key slowly to unlock it.
"Hold tight little lamp. Keep your eyes closed and ignore the sound." I t'chitered as i unlocked the door fully. "It is time we take care of the dark that wants to eat the light of my little lamp."
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#***The Crimson Queen; Story the First: A Peculiar Ritual***
It is a full moon in the mortal's world tonight. A clear one too, thankfully. The stormy nights, regardless of moon phase or other days dedicated to other gods, belong to my dear, *dear* god-equal, manipulative and unreliable as he may be.
My cultists are free to attempt to summon me as they damn well please.
The smells of cooked and unfortunately burnt food start to waft into the Red Halls. My advisors look to me, mildly annoyed. Every time, the same cultists overcook the cheese that they wish to offer. Not the best way to summon me. I might smite them for their folly tonight, especially if nothing interesting happens.
Then comes the songs and dances, calling upon me to strike down one enemy or another, be they mortal or god. Joke's on them, however, I just stabbed Znanel, the God of Forbidden Knowledge, smack dab in his eye yesterday, and he is gearing up for war as we speak.
I never claimed diplomacy as a strong suit.
Whispered prayers drawn in blood came next. These always get a response, usually by one of my Blood-Knights. I am a busy woman, with a realm of my own to run, and these requests are too numerous and mundane for the Goddess of War and Retribution to bother with.
Then the screams of the human sacrifices rang through, echoing within my throne room. I never understood why some of my cultists insist on doing so, especially with innocent victims. I immediately nod to the commander of my armies. Burnt cheese I can deal with, but not this.
A different sound cut through all the others. One I had never heard before. It did not have a plea behind it, only offering. Intrigued, I lifted up my left arm, surrounding myself in a bright flash of light, and appeared before a child.
"What is it that you want, young one?" my voice was velveteen, soothing almost. It was always a bad sign when those too few in years to understand the gravity of death and pain wish for an audience.
The child looked up at me, eyes wide in awe. "Y-your Grace, I thought that since you live where no food is made, you might be very hungry."
"Hungry, young one?" an easy smile played at the corners of my mouth. "No. I have no need for food where I live."
The child thrust the wrapped candy towards me. "Mother says that tonight is your night, and you always seem so grumpy when you appear to anyone. I get grumpy when I am hungry. You must be hungry!"
Oh, the ever enduring simple logic of children never ceases to amuse me.
"I suppose you have a point," I gingerly accepted the candy and placed it in my pocket. "Did you wish for me to do anything for you, young one? Where is your mother, I fancy a chat with her."
"I don't want anything," the child shook their little head. "And my mother was taken away by some very mean men. I think they were hungry too. I get mean when I am hungry."
I snapped my fingers, and two Blood-Knights materialized. "Find the child's mother. Report back to me as soon as anything is known."
"My Lady," one of the Blood-Knights looked ashen. "The child's mother is Znanel's mortal Chosen."
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[WP] There have been many sacrifices made to summon you, as well as a plethora of motives - from the extreme, to the simplistic, to the downright absurd. But one particular sacrifice catches your eye: a young child simply offering you a bar of chocolate, claiming that you, a deity, must be "hungry".
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I reach out my arms. My fingers, long and skinny, suport my body as i twist my way out of the summoning portal on the floor. My lean figure barely fits in the room even though i'm balled up with my back against the roof.
The colorful hair on my carapace feels the cold wind comming trough the small window. My antenne twitching against the single lamp in the room. My right feet underneath a small bed and my left ontop of a bookcase. One of my spikey elbows digging in the wooden floor and the other bent around the support beams of the roof above me. My moth like wings pushed against me because the lack of space.
My compound eyes see everything in the room. But are focused on the small girl in the center of the room. Only now do i realize that i somehow managed to bend and twist around her without actually touching her.
"Hi." i said. My voice clicking and rasping as i spoke. I twisted my head slightly to focus on her a bit more with one of my eyes.
"Hi." She said back. "You like chocolate?"
There was a way to how she said it that intrigued me.
"Depends, what kind?" I rasped back.
"I have dark and milk chocolate, you want any of these?" She asked. Her black hair falling infront of her face as she tilted her head during the question. Casually flipping it back with one hand.
"Too bitter." I replied.
"Even the milk one? It's like the sweetest brand i know." She voiced in slight disbelief.
"Yes, even milk. Don't have almond paste?" I asked, my antenne twitching as i said almond. My head moving closer to look closely at the offerings in her hands.
The chocolate bars looked unappealing. To much collor and clearly marketed to kids. Altough she was not an adult she wasn't a kid either.
"How old are you?" I asked.
"16" she responded." And no i don't have almonds or almond paste, sorry." Her face looked a bit sad all of a sudden.
"Why are you sad?" I asked.
"I wanted to do something nice for you. It makes me feel better, usually." The end of her sentence seemed off.
"It didn't this time?"
"Well i didn't really do anything for you did I?" Her voice sounded as sad as she looked.
Downstairs, I heard a glass vase break followed by a bunch of yellong.
"My head turned to allow my other compound eye to focus on her intead. It suprised me to see how little she reacted to it.
"Most people are scared to see my face this close." I said, more to my self than to her.
"Why? Your so cute and fluffy! Like a giant moth man."
"I am a giant moth man!" I grumbled annoyed.
A silence fell for a few moments. The cold night air still flowing from the small window.
More yelling came from down stairs.
"Why did you really summon me, little one?" I asked finally.
"Like i said, I wanted to make you happy."
"To feel better about yourself. You already said that. But that is not really why is it. It also isn't as simple as you wanting to feel better. You could just give a friend that chocolate tomorrow intead." I looked at the door. Pointing with one antenna and tapping her head with the other, I continued. "You aren't afraid of me because you know something a lot more scary than me."
She pulled the hood if her hoodie over her head and hide her face as much as she could in it. Only her fingers where stikking out of her sleeves instead of her whole hand.
Another yell and something breaking downstairs folowed by sobbing.
I looked at her again. "Do you want a hug?" I asked.
She only nodded and wrapped her armes around my neck. My fluffy fur tickeling as she rubbed her wet cheeks against it.
Heavy footsteps started to climb the stairs.
"Don't worry little lamp, this fluffy moth man won't let any harm come to your little light. No need for chocolate or almond paste."
The footsteps stoped infront of the door, and someone seemed to fumble with the doorknob. Frustration seemed clear asit appears that its locked from the inside.
"You little shit. Open this door right fucking now." The voice yelled.
She hugged me tighter. "Please don't leave." She begged quietly.
I moved one of my long arms to pull her closser to me.
"I said open the fucking door!" The voice outside yelled. As they started to pound on the door.
"Do you want me to scare them? Like how they scare you?" I asked softly. Taping her head with my antenne.
Nodding in to me she wisppered. "Dous that make me as bad as them?"
"No little lamp, you want to scare them to make it stop. They do not." I comforted her.
My free hand moved, from around the beams above my head, to the door. My long fingers twisting the key slowly to unlock it.
"Hold tight little lamp. Keep your eyes closed and ignore the sound." I t'chitered as i unlocked the door fully. "It is time we take care of the dark that wants to eat the light of my little lamp."
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I make my usually rounds across the market, I find this one in particular to be my favorite beccase of the variety of goods sold here. Such a large variety of foods and spices from all over this world I can't help but bask in this year's harvest.
"Um, excuse me ma'am," I small voice comes from behind me as I feel something pull at my dress. I turn to see a little boy looking nervous, one hand grasping my dress and the other behind his back.
I stare for a moment, "Oh, I'm sorry. It's been a long time since anyone's tried to get my attention. What can I do for you?"
"Here," the boy holds out a half folded cloth with some confectionary in it, "Th-this is for you."
"Why thank you, but what is it?"
"It's called chocolate, it always makes me feel better when I'm sad."
I look at him a little confused, "You think I look sad?"
"Well I see you walk around the market everyday with a sad look on your face. I didn't know if your were hungry or lonely."
It is true that I've been a little down since I haven't been called upon as much lately but how did this kid know? "You know what, I am a little bit of both right now. How did you know that?"
"Can't I tell you a secret? My pa says I have special eyes but he told me not to tell anyone."
I take a bite of the chocolate. It is very sweet, sweeter than anything I've ever tasted before, "Then why did you tell me?"
"Because you have gold sparklies around you."
Any form of truesight hasn't been seen around here for centuries and the first person in such a long time immediately identified me as a divine being without even knowing what truesight is, "Do you know who I am?"
"No but Pa tells me that the gold sparklies means you're a god."
"Your father is a very smart man, isn't he? Can I meet him?"
"If you don't mind waiting until he's done with work."
"That's fine, why don't we talk some more until then?"
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[WP] There have been many sacrifices made to summon you, as well as a plethora of motives - from the extreme, to the simplistic, to the downright absurd. But one particular sacrifice catches your eye: a young child simply offering you a bar of chocolate, claiming that you, a deity, must be "hungry".
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The demigod sits atop his throne, bored as his cheek is props against his knuckles while the other hand continues to swipe left on videos that cycle in front of him.
"I dedicate this..." Swipe.
"Please lend me..." Swipe.
"I'm killing them all for..." Swipe.
The demigod doesn't respond and continues to swipe at regular intervals. Until he doesn't. There's a small child that seems to set something on an alter. She looks upwards and the demigod feels as though she's staring right at him. He waits to hear her plea as the single snot bubble continues to expand and contract from her left nostril. She finally turns and begins to walk away, causing him to lift his head. As she continues to walk away, he quickly stands and a portal opens in front of him. He looks over to his alter to see a single candy bar resting on the marble surface.
"Little girl," he calls out. The girl freezes, drawing her shoulders up as she tenses. She slowly turns back to see the demigod standing with the still open portal behind him. "Come here child," he says, beckoning her. She slowly makes her way back with her head bowed, stopping just before him. The top of her head barely reaches his knee so he lowers it, planting it on the lush grass that blankets the meadow around them. He's still several times her height but he attempts to appear smaller for her. "Tell me child, why didn't you ask anything of me?"
The girl is still looking down, as she pinches and prods at her shirt.
"Momma says..."
"You must look at me child. It's alright. You're not in trouble. I promise." After a moment, the girl finally looks up but continues to pull at her shirt, while the snot bubble flares more rapidly. "That's much better. Come now. Tell me, why you didn't ask anything of me?"
"I told momma that I wanted to ask you but she says no. I hoped you could help since you was momma's favorite but she says you already work too much an that other people always ask for stuff an that you won't have enough time for helping momma get better."
The bemused demigod turns to look back at the alter, then points. "Why the chocolate bar though?"
"Whenever Aubrey gets done putting away her toys, momma always gives me some chocolate, since I worked hard. Momma says you work hard too so I brought you some chocolate since momma couldn't."
"This momma sounds like a bright woman. Tell me, why would such a woman have an interest in the Lord of Shadows?"
Aubrey shrugs then begins to rock from side to side. "Momma says you're the best and that you're her favorite, after Aubrey."
The Lord of Shadow chuckles. "Is that a fact? Well Aubrey, summoning me is no light matter." He looks over his shoulder and the portal closes behind him. "I accept your offer and I'll help your momma but know that after that's done, I will be bound to you for the rest of your natural life."
The girl panics. "But momma says I can't ask you for help."
The Lord of Shadows raises his hand, calling for silence. "It's alright. I won't tell momma. This will be our little secret, okay?" The girl nods reluctantly. "Now that we have that settled, I believe the problem lies with a certain insurance adjuster refusing to pay some bills. How about we go pay him a visit?"
<edited>
I had a few errors in there but I fixed the ones that I saw! Feel free to point out anything you think needs to be corrected!
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"We got another sacrifice s- What the hell? Hey uh sir, I think you better come look at this."
I walk over to Joane, my assistant. Ever since sacrifices increased back in Year 12512, or the Rennaisance as the humans called it, I hired Joane to help me sort them. Often times I simply give them a gift without visiting, othertimes I summon a storm, and sometimes I appear myself to handle it personally.
"What is it?"
"Small child sir, America, Central area specifically. Pretty sure Panama? I don't know to be honest, aren't the best with this area since most come from Europe or the Northern Americas."
"Huh. I think Ill handle this personally"
"You sure sir? Go easy on the kid"
"Oh don't worry"
And so I head to Panama. A small village near the Canal.
I land and walk over to where the Sacrifice was made. And there I found a kid and a snickers bar, along with the full summoning area.
"Hello sir!"
"Hello. Why have I been summoned?"
"Well sir, I thought you might be hungry"
"W-what?" I am surprised. Im an immortal god, a bringer of love, death, chaos, and peace. How could I be hungry?
"Well, you appear to be very skinny and I'm sure that doing peoples bidding is a very tiring job, so I got you this" And then he hands me the snickers bar.
I take it of course, what else am I supposed to do?
"Whats your name?"
"Adal, sir"
"Adal. Thats a nice name. Thank you"
I begin to eat it as I fly away.
I am finished when I arrive.
"Joane, make a note of that kid."
"Yes sir."
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[WP] There have been many sacrifices made to summon you, as well as a plethora of motives - from the extreme, to the simplistic, to the downright absurd. But one particular sacrifice catches your eye: a young child simply offering you a bar of chocolate, claiming that you, a deity, must be "hungry".
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I tried.
The soft sound of footsteps, the drifting swirl of smoke, the blazing light of the fire. Voices cautious, clattering, heaving, and happy. The sights, sounds, and smells of a thousand people. All huddled together, moving their cumbersome legs toward the temple together.
I stand in the centre of it all. All of them, here to kneel and beg and grovel at my feet. Of course, they engage in a thousand formalities just to make sure I did not strike them down. It was ridiculous. I am not known for my wrath. I do not see why they could not hurry up and get it over with.
They were bringing out the goats now. And after that, they pray to me and lay out the second round of offerings. They light some candles, extinguish the fire, and bring down the charred bodies of the goats. The worshippers place them next to their other offerings. Fine wines, perfume, the rarest of flowers, gold and silver jewellery alike, all scattered across the temple floor.
For me. They knew nothing of me outside of the myths and rare visits to the temple. Why?
I sigh, and every worshipper seemed to have heard. They turned their heads to me in unison, their breaths baited. Half of them still clutching my offerings in their hands. I stand up, and they kneel. Except for one.
A boy, no more than 10 years old. He is holding a small bar of chocolate. Wandering through the crowd, clearly confused, but not in distress. He turns around, looks up at me, and says, “Oh, hi Ursa, I brought you this.”
The other worshippers gasp. The boy used no honorifics, no epithets. He did not speak as though he were talking to a goddess, but a friend or acquaintance.
I gesture for him to approach me. He does so. He looks less sure now. I say, “It is alright, in fact, I appreciate your… normality.” I can see the crowd from here, tense, unsure of what to do.
The boy speaks, “I, I thought you might be hungry?” There is a slight quiver in his voice.
I smile, “I’ll save it for later, then. Now, how about you go back ? Actually, how about we all go back ?” He hands the chocolate to me, and I take it. I stare at the other worshippers, a silent threat. Go now, or face my anger. Not that I was too angry, just more frustrated with the ceremony than I should be. I should be soaking it all in, a picture of hedonistic greed painted on my face. But I have never valued all the pointless worship. Let me fade into a quiet death.
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The child was small, no more than six or seven years old. He was standing in the middle of the summoning circle, holding out a bar of chocolate. "You must be hungry, Lord."
You take the chocolate from the child, breaking off a piece and popping it into your mouth. It's delicious, rich and creamy. You savor the flavor for a moment before speaking. "Yes, I am hungry. And you have done well to summon me, child."
"I am not a child, Lord," the boy replies. "I am a man."
You feel the ground begin to shake beneath your feet, the circle of candles bursting into flames and melting the wax into pools upon the stone floor. "You are not a man. You are a child. A child playing at being a man."
"I am not a child," the boy insists. "I am a man. And I have done what no other has done - I have summoned you, Lord!"
The ground shakes once again as if in response to his declaration. You find yourself growing angry. "You are not a man," you insist through gritted teeth. "You are a child."
"I am not a child!" he shouts, his voice carrying across the room and echoing off the walls. The candles go out, plunging the chamber into darkness. You sense movement to your right, a flash of light as one of the candles is relit. The chamber comes into focus once again, and you see that the boy has advanced towards you, his hand outstretched towards your chest. "I am not a child," he says again, his voice now softer but filled with conviction.
***
Check out r/greypuffin for more stories.
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[WP] There have been many sacrifices made to summon you, as well as a plethora of motives - from the extreme, to the simplistic, to the downright absurd. But one particular sacrifice catches your eye: a young child simply offering you a bar of chocolate, claiming that you, a deity, must be "hungry".
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Riss eyed the boy curiously. Unlike commonly believed, there was no right or wrong way to call a deity. Whether or not they responded was entirely up to the deity in question. Some had opted to make their own rules in order to cut down on requests, like that stickler Agith who hadn’t seen a proper ‘summoning’ in over three thousand years since humans shifted their pronunciation of *fliugat*. Such things offended Riss’ sensibilities though, so she simply responded as she pleased. Which was rare anymore, it took something truly novel to get her attention.
And, well, this was novel.
Riss appeared in front of the young boy, taking the form of a lovely woman in her 30’s, someone who could be his mother. No point scaring the boy, at least until she found out what he wanted. Today chaos could take a backseat to curiosity. “Hello, child. This is an unusual sacrifice to be offered to me. What made you choose it?”
“Mommy tells me I get cranky when I’m hungry, and you’re cranky so I figured you gotta be hungry.”
“And Why do you think I’m cranky?”
“All those mean things you do.”
Riss debated for a moment if she should disabuse him of that notion. Her goal wasn’t to be mean, though it often came across that way to mortals, it was merely to shake things up if they got too boring. She decided against it, opting to play along a bit more.
“I thank you for your kind gift, young sir. It is very thoughtful. Now what would you like in return?”
He stared at her blankly.
“You gave me a gift, now I’m offering you one. What do you want?”
“I dunno.”
“Would you like your own treat? A game? A toy?”
He paused for a minute. “I wanna go in the merry-go-round at the musement park.”
“Sure thing! In fact, let’s go on all the rides!”
“I’m only allowed on the merry go round.”
“When you’re with me, you’re allowed to do anything you want.” She gave him a big smile. Today would be fun for both of them.
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The child was small, no more than six or seven years old. He was standing in the middle of the summoning circle, holding out a bar of chocolate. "You must be hungry, Lord."
You take the chocolate from the child, breaking off a piece and popping it into your mouth. It's delicious, rich and creamy. You savor the flavor for a moment before speaking. "Yes, I am hungry. And you have done well to summon me, child."
"I am not a child, Lord," the boy replies. "I am a man."
You feel the ground begin to shake beneath your feet, the circle of candles bursting into flames and melting the wax into pools upon the stone floor. "You are not a man. You are a child. A child playing at being a man."
"I am not a child," the boy insists. "I am a man. And I have done what no other has done - I have summoned you, Lord!"
The ground shakes once again as if in response to his declaration. You find yourself growing angry. "You are not a man," you insist through gritted teeth. "You are a child."
"I am not a child!" he shouts, his voice carrying across the room and echoing off the walls. The candles go out, plunging the chamber into darkness. You sense movement to your right, a flash of light as one of the candles is relit. The chamber comes into focus once again, and you see that the boy has advanced towards you, his hand outstretched towards your chest. "I am not a child," he says again, his voice now softer but filled with conviction.
***
Check out r/greypuffin for more stories.
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[WP] There have been many sacrifices made to summon you, as well as a plethora of motives - from the extreme, to the simplistic, to the downright absurd. But one particular sacrifice catches your eye: a young child simply offering you a bar of chocolate, claiming that you, a deity, must be "hungry".
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"Mama says we might have to start trading for food, soon." the boy whispers to the smoldering fire, "But I figure you might be hungry, too. No one's giving sacrifices anymore. The other refuse-gees say the Neritza took you from us. Changed your name and made you part of their pants-eon. I hope you're okay."
The Neritza had given no warning to these people. They simply swooped in and slaughtered. Those who lived were forced to worship other gods. To abandon their king, whose lineage I had founded, and follow their Emperor. To abandon their culture and become Neritza. There were no politics or negotiations. Join or die. Some ran. The boy's blonde hair was dark with grease and streaked with mud. What looked like the last of his clothing was frayed around the edges, with deep, jagged cuts across the chest. Like someone had slashed at him, just barely missing his skin.
I sense movement, behind us. I turn my awareness and find a jungle cat creeping along the forest floor, eyes locked on the fire and the child. It's salivating.
"But I also want you to help us, goddess." The predator leaps to a tree branch, climbing over the encampment, surveying the sleeping bodies, "Papa said you abandoned us. Stayed with the Neritza. Have you forsaken us? Why can't you help us?"
I craft a small bird, plucking it from the air, and tossed it in the path of the overgrown cat. It senses the prey, snatches it up, and runs away with its meal. Wind stirs another campfire, coaxing the flames and encouraging them to grow, grow, grow. It reaches out, hungering for the drunken man warming his back by the fire. I rebuke it with a flick of my hand, staunching the flow of air.
"Why don't you help us?" My heart breaks for the child. I turn and watch the tears carve streaks into his muddy face. I encourage sleep. He sobs for a moment more and returns to his mother's side in the dirt, angrily tossing his half of their small blanket around himself.
I place a new bar of chocolate in his sack of meager belongings and leave to cry alone.
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The child was small, no more than six or seven years old. He was standing in the middle of the summoning circle, holding out a bar of chocolate. "You must be hungry, Lord."
You take the chocolate from the child, breaking off a piece and popping it into your mouth. It's delicious, rich and creamy. You savor the flavor for a moment before speaking. "Yes, I am hungry. And you have done well to summon me, child."
"I am not a child, Lord," the boy replies. "I am a man."
You feel the ground begin to shake beneath your feet, the circle of candles bursting into flames and melting the wax into pools upon the stone floor. "You are not a man. You are a child. A child playing at being a man."
"I am not a child," the boy insists. "I am a man. And I have done what no other has done - I have summoned you, Lord!"
The ground shakes once again as if in response to his declaration. You find yourself growing angry. "You are not a man," you insist through gritted teeth. "You are a child."
"I am not a child!" he shouts, his voice carrying across the room and echoing off the walls. The candles go out, plunging the chamber into darkness. You sense movement to your right, a flash of light as one of the candles is relit. The chamber comes into focus once again, and you see that the boy has advanced towards you, his hand outstretched towards your chest. "I am not a child," he says again, his voice now softer but filled with conviction.
***
Check out r/greypuffin for more stories.
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[WP] There have been many sacrifices made to summon you, as well as a plethora of motives - from the extreme, to the simplistic, to the downright absurd. But one particular sacrifice catches your eye: a young child simply offering you a bar of chocolate, claiming that you, a deity, must be "hungry".
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I look down at the young boy in confusion. In his hands, he holds a small bar of chocolate that says, 'bite size'. I have been summoned to this world so many times. I have seen every war, every famine, every disease. I have been greeted by people with such selfish tendencies. This boy, though. This boy is different. He does not want me to eradicate or burn. No. He wants to feed me.
"What are you doing, mortal?"
"I'm giving you a piece of chocolate! Chocolate is a type of food that's very sweet, and good, and-"
"I know what chocolate is. Is this your offering?"
"Offering?"
"Yes. When humans summon me, they give an offering. If I am pleased, I may just do what they ask."
"Oh, no! I don't want anything. I just thought you might be hungry. It's not much, but it's all I have."
"Why would I be hungry?"
"When I go without eating for several days, my tummy hurts really really bad. I heard people talking about you. I saw what they were doing behind that building. They weren't giving you food, so I thought you might want some."
"Ahh. Them." 'Them' being a group of teenagers who wanted me to burn down their school. They offered a hamster who died last week, a comic book, and a chair from the school so I could 'sense the school's aura', whatever that meant. And that wasn't even the strangest! Honestly, I'm just happy we seem to be moving away from the 'virgin's blood' thing. That was awkward. "Sorry, kid. I don't really want it. I don't eat actual food."
"Is it because it's not good enough? It was the only thing I had that I didn't dig out of the trash." I take a step back to look at the boy. He doesn't have shoes, his hair is matted, and there's dirt and bruises all across his body. Why didn't I notice it before?
"Who's in charge of you?"
"I don't know. I take care of myself. I've been doing it for as long as I can remember."
"You know what? I lied."
"What?"
"I absolutely **love** chocolate bars."
"Really!?!"
Yup! My favorite thing in the whole wide world! You know what an offering of a chocolate bar will get you? A whole castle!"
"For real life!?! I've never seen a castle before!"
"Absolutely!" I reach out my hand for him to grab. I make a portal, back to my home. His eyes go wide. Before him stand the kingdom of fire. My land that I have ruled for eternity. "Come now. It is time for our subjects to meet the new prince of flame."
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The child was small, no more than six or seven years old. He was standing in the middle of the summoning circle, holding out a bar of chocolate. "You must be hungry, Lord."
You take the chocolate from the child, breaking off a piece and popping it into your mouth. It's delicious, rich and creamy. You savor the flavor for a moment before speaking. "Yes, I am hungry. And you have done well to summon me, child."
"I am not a child, Lord," the boy replies. "I am a man."
You feel the ground begin to shake beneath your feet, the circle of candles bursting into flames and melting the wax into pools upon the stone floor. "You are not a man. You are a child. A child playing at being a man."
"I am not a child," the boy insists. "I am a man. And I have done what no other has done - I have summoned you, Lord!"
The ground shakes once again as if in response to his declaration. You find yourself growing angry. "You are not a man," you insist through gritted teeth. "You are a child."
"I am not a child!" he shouts, his voice carrying across the room and echoing off the walls. The candles go out, plunging the chamber into darkness. You sense movement to your right, a flash of light as one of the candles is relit. The chamber comes into focus once again, and you see that the boy has advanced towards you, his hand outstretched towards your chest. "I am not a child," he says again, his voice now softer but filled with conviction.
***
Check out r/greypuffin for more stories.
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[WP] There have been many sacrifices made to summon you, as well as a plethora of motives - from the extreme, to the simplistic, to the downright absurd. But one particular sacrifice catches your eye: a young child simply offering you a bar of chocolate, claiming that you, a deity, must be "hungry".
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I look down at the young boy in confusion. In his hands, he holds a small bar of chocolate that says, 'bite size'. I have been summoned to this world so many times. I have seen every war, every famine, every disease. I have been greeted by people with such selfish tendencies. This boy, though. This boy is different. He does not want me to eradicate or burn. No. He wants to feed me.
"What are you doing, mortal?"
"I'm giving you a piece of chocolate! Chocolate is a type of food that's very sweet, and good, and-"
"I know what chocolate is. Is this your offering?"
"Offering?"
"Yes. When humans summon me, they give an offering. If I am pleased, I may just do what they ask."
"Oh, no! I don't want anything. I just thought you might be hungry. It's not much, but it's all I have."
"Why would I be hungry?"
"When I go without eating for several days, my tummy hurts really really bad. I heard people talking about you. I saw what they were doing behind that building. They weren't giving you food, so I thought you might want some."
"Ahh. Them." 'Them' being a group of teenagers who wanted me to burn down their school. They offered a hamster who died last week, a comic book, and a chair from the school so I could 'sense the school's aura', whatever that meant. And that wasn't even the strangest! Honestly, I'm just happy we seem to be moving away from the 'virgin's blood' thing. That was awkward. "Sorry, kid. I don't really want it. I don't eat actual food."
"Is it because it's not good enough? It was the only thing I had that I didn't dig out of the trash." I take a step back to look at the boy. He doesn't have shoes, his hair is matted, and there's dirt and bruises all across his body. Why didn't I notice it before?
"Who's in charge of you?"
"I don't know. I take care of myself. I've been doing it for as long as I can remember."
"You know what? I lied."
"What?"
"I absolutely **love** chocolate bars."
"Really!?!"
Yup! My favorite thing in the whole wide world! You know what an offering of a chocolate bar will get you? A whole castle!"
"For real life!?! I've never seen a castle before!"
"Absolutely!" I reach out my hand for him to grab. I make a portal, back to my home. His eyes go wide. Before him stand the kingdom of fire. My land that I have ruled for eternity. "Come now. It is time for our subjects to meet the new prince of flame."
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"Mama says we might have to start trading for food, soon." the boy whispers to the smoldering fire, "But I figure you might be hungry, too. No one's giving sacrifices anymore. The other refuse-gees say the Neritza took you from us. Changed your name and made you part of their pants-eon. I hope you're okay."
The Neritza had given no warning to these people. They simply swooped in and slaughtered. Those who lived were forced to worship other gods. To abandon their king, whose lineage I had founded, and follow their Emperor. To abandon their culture and become Neritza. There were no politics or negotiations. Join or die. Some ran. The boy's blonde hair was dark with grease and streaked with mud. What looked like the last of his clothing was frayed around the edges, with deep, jagged cuts across the chest. Like someone had slashed at him, just barely missing his skin.
I sense movement, behind us. I turn my awareness and find a jungle cat creeping along the forest floor, eyes locked on the fire and the child. It's salivating.
"But I also want you to help us, goddess." The predator leaps to a tree branch, climbing over the encampment, surveying the sleeping bodies, "Papa said you abandoned us. Stayed with the Neritza. Have you forsaken us? Why can't you help us?"
I craft a small bird, plucking it from the air, and tossed it in the path of the overgrown cat. It senses the prey, snatches it up, and runs away with its meal. Wind stirs another campfire, coaxing the flames and encouraging them to grow, grow, grow. It reaches out, hungering for the drunken man warming his back by the fire. I rebuke it with a flick of my hand, staunching the flow of air.
"Why don't you help us?" My heart breaks for the child. I turn and watch the tears carve streaks into his muddy face. I encourage sleep. He sobs for a moment more and returns to his mother's side in the dirt, angrily tossing his half of their small blanket around himself.
I place a new bar of chocolate in his sack of meager belongings and leave to cry alone.
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[WP] There have been many sacrifices made to summon you, as well as a plethora of motives - from the extreme, to the simplistic, to the downright absurd. But one particular sacrifice catches your eye: a young child simply offering you a bar of chocolate, claiming that you, a deity, must be "hungry".
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"Oh for fucks' sakes! Not again!"
After more than two millenia of being summoned to Earth every time some desperate bloody human decided they wanted an advantage in life, Teos was beginning to find himself envying the less approachable deities - those who had been wise enough to make it difficult for the humans to summon them.
Teos had been one of those "young progressives" who believed in his responsibilities as a god. He wanted the people to be able to reach him with ease and, perhaps more importantly, he had truly wanted to help them.
The older deities had laughed themselves silly when he put forth the rule that a human could summon him by sacrificing anything of their choice.
Jupiter had been in such hysterics he'd blown up a mountain and destroyed a whole civilization.
Teos had been happy though. He'd taken pride in being such a hands-on god. For a good 1000 years, even the most mundane tasks pleased him. He knew his efforts were helping people.
That was before some other "young progressives" thought the world would be better if the bloody peasantry were literate.
_What I wouldn't do to be back in the good old days, being summoned by some pompous twat in a shiny hat_ thought Teos as he prepared to answer the summons to Earth. _At least then the requests were simple. And you got a good rest in between them. Now every Tom, Dick and bloody Harry has a request to make and they're all so fucking stupid. Why do these people give a rat's arse about Instagram followers anyway?"_
"Ahh, well, a deal's a deal. Let's see what they've got for me this time."
With that Teos, vanished from the Heavenly plane, reemerging instantaneously in the bedroom of a young girl.
She turned, eyes wide, arm outstretched, holding a chocolate bar out to him.
"Please, Sir God, is this enough? I don't have anything else. Sometimes the nuns give us a little chocolate if we are good. I thought maybe you would like it too."
_Is there any clearer sign of the downfall of humanity than refined sugar?_ thought Teos
He smiled though (it was important to keep up appearances).
"That's very kind of you. What can I help you with? And you may call me Teos if you wish."
The girl gave a wide, toothy grin. Teos could have sworn he could already see the damage those chocolate bars were doing.
"Thank you Mr Teos, Sir. It's my friend Emily, Sir. She's very sad. She's new here at the orphanage. Her parents died a few weeks ago, you see. I only wondered if you could help her."
Teos stared at the girl. "You summoned a god because you're worried about your friend?"
She nodded emphatically.
"Yes, Sir. It was very hard for me when I first came here. I cried almost every night for my Mommy and Daddy. It still makes me sad sometimes but I'm okay and the nuns are nice to us. But I heard Emily crying tonight like I used to and it made me sad for her. Can you help her?
Teos paused thoughtfully.
"I'm not sure. It's been a very long time since someone asked me for something so selfless. I can't bring Emily's parents back to life, you know. Or yours. I'm sorry, it's just not how it works. What was it that made you start to feel better?"
The girl thought for some time, her brow furrowed in concentration.
"I think maybe it was Tommy and Lilith. They're my friends. It's hard to be sad all the time when you have nice friends."
Teos considered this thoughtfully.
"Well then. What I can offer you is some advice. If you want to help Emily, you need to be her friend."
The toothy grin returned and she gave Teos a big hug before running out the room calling for Emily.
Teos took a bite of the chocolate bar and popped back into the Heavenly plane.
_Sometimes_, he thought, _they still manage to surprise me_.
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Awake! An ache of memory, a fragrance of ritual, a sinew-hurting call. You feel yourself transform from an absence to a presence. Lit by a spiraling insanity of cerulean and scarlet, you appear above a storm, starving and sensate. Your hunger reaches out and breathes in deeply the fresh, still-warm souls of a thousand dead sacrifices. Descend below the clouds, tyrant, and watch the artistry of a death cult ritual.
The summoners, eyes glassed, agape and shorn of pride, heartless priests clad in skins and blood. They await. Commanding and begging. Asking for trifles.
\*A spear to break the spine of a moon-god!\*
\*Grant me skin of silver, tyrant, and an unquenchable thirst for warm eyes!\*
\*Pray give me a boon of a hundred thousand lives, pattern the future within mine eyelids, and the sorcery to avenge my kin!\*
Grant me, gift me, beg thee! This is all they can say, O tyrant. Eternal beggars, whose wishes circle back to their nameless terror. When Jehuvgathagah made them, he wrapped their souls and sentience around the core of a nightmare. And all their will, free and determined, emerges from this hidden nightmare. Those gnarled labyrinthine roots of their intelligence all dug into that nightmare. All their monuments and malice - catalyzed from that common nightmare that they always see in their dreams, yet will never remember.
Grant them these trifles, tyrant, so that they may find solace in their unknowable insignificance.
And having granted thus, feel existence unwrap. The skin of reality flayed from itself. Shrieks of a tormented universe, so soft, so wet. Into inexistence, and a sleep that is not a sleep.
Such is that which is not such.
Time, untimed.
Awake! Another ache of another memory. Yet there is no fragrance. You become a presence, yet remain unlit. The skies below lie naked and unshorn. Your hunger reaches out and breathes in nothing. The gall of these insignificant microbes! Is that rage, great tyrant? This time, their trifles you grant them shall be monstrous.
Descend upon the flesh of trembling Gaia.
Where are the summoners? Those emperors and dark sages? Where lie the ten thousand broken bodies, oozing rich veins and stained bone mazes? Do you see an absence of artistry as artistry, tyrant?
I sense denial, and ask for forgiveness. A trifle for your observer, tyrant.
There is but one below you. A short summoner, dismal and dwarven. Eyes unglassed, mouth twisted in mockery of a crescent. It holds out a limb wielding a misshapen square of the color of a lower reality.
\*I could feel your hunger, Ooby\*
As does the universe, child, more and more the longer the tyrant remains.
\*Here, you can have this.\*
What manner of offering is this, great tyrant? What sacrifice has value if it is uncompelled? What...but wait, perhaps not all fragrance need be of ritual. Some fragrances can just be...deep and consoling. Like discovering the evening fires of your home in the distance after a bitter, cold day lost in the pines.
WHERE IS THY NIGHTMARE?
Does it not have one, tyrant? Is this not one of Jehuvgathagah's toys? But it is!
Flee, child! Even a tendril of the great tyrant can warp you into an eternity of pain! But I did not expect such delicate movement. Do you seek that square, tyrant? Why?
IT HAS QUENCHED THE NIGHTMARE. IT IS THE FETUS OF A PEER.
A new god? From such low birth?
\*I have one with coconut too. I'll get it next time.\*
Do you hear that, child? Stick to nougat.
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[WP] There have been many sacrifices made to summon you, as well as a plethora of motives - from the extreme, to the simplistic, to the downright absurd. But one particular sacrifice catches your eye: a young child simply offering you a bar of chocolate, claiming that you, a deity, must be "hungry".
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They clamoured for my attention. Not an hour went by without someone beseeching me. Some wanted knowledge, others power. They called for blessings for their friends, curses for their foes, and a whole host of other requests.
Some I would answer. If the caller caught my interest, or their request was worth granting. Sometimes they made sacrifices I would want, if it was something that intrigued me at the time. I could still remember when I took the first cow, and suddenly everyone wanted to sacrifice one.
I sat on my throne of light, listening to their pleas. A couple I sent representatives to, where it seemed more important to my continued worship. They would act in my best interests, and ensure my church thrived.
One plea caught my ear. It was a single person, a child. But they were not calling in fear or anger. It was a plea full of the innocence of youth, a pure, peaceful soul. They promised no riches, no favours, no living sacrifice. But they promised a treasured gift for them.
I was intrigued. It was something away from the centuries of boredom I had been feeling. With but a thought I appeared before the child, as they sat in a little room. They were apparently a boy, wearing noticeably worn clothes. Looking around, the cramped room seemed to be mostly made of second hand items.
"Child, why have you called on me?"
His eyes widened, before he gave a wide grin. From a pocket he took out a squashed bar of something, holding it out to me.
"Mommy says you live up in the sky, but that means you can't have food. So I thought you would be hungry."
I was touched. I was used to people calling me for favours. It was all they ever did. To be called on just to give me something, that was truly special. I reached out to take it, feeling the bar beneath my fingers. A glance told me it was chocolate, something I hadn't tried before. I didn't need to eat, but sometimes it was nice to have food.
"Thank you child. That was very kind of you."
His grin widened, and he gave a joyful giggle. I smiled in return, opening it up. With a snap I broke it in half, giving him the larger piece. He accepted it, and took a bite. I followed suit, tasting the sweet deliciousness. I knew it was probably the cheaper kind, but in that moment I didn't care. To me, it was the most amazing thing created.
In short order I finished it, savouring the taste. He had nearly matched my speed, though much was plastered around his mouth. I waved a hand to clean it off, making him giggle again at the tickling sensation. I felt the world around us, realising there were no others in the house.
"Child, where are you parents?"
He pointed to the outside world.
"Mommy has gone to work. She said she would be back before it got dark. Daddy..."
His face dropped.
"Daddy went away. We visit him sometimes, when Mommy doesn't have to work."
I could feel the truth behind his words. His father was dead, and his mother had to work hard to keep them alive. He didn't call on me to help, but he called on me nonetheless, and paid me. I knew I could just leave, but his generosity touched me. I could help him and his mother. And I would.
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Since the beginning of time my presence has been a long shadow on the history of man. I had a hand in the rise of empires, the death of millions, the creation of cyrtids, and yet never was I given a “hand out”. This young child with bright eyes stared at me, their hands out stretch holding a chocolate bar. They didn’t even pull back or flinch at my appearance. I hesitated to take the confectionary and instead asked, “Aren’t you afraid of me?”
“Why you’re just a skeleton, my teacher Ms. Pelkey has one in the science room.”
I see so that’s how she sees me. Most humans when they look upon me, they see what they fear most, but a skeleton is a common one for those either so brave or so young, for they don’t fear spiders, darkness, or even taxes. They fear our most base fear, death.
“So, you fear death do you child? Is that why offer me this chocolate bar? To gain immortality”
“No! You silly goose. I want you to eat cause you’re all skin and bones, but without the skin.”
I had to catch myself from laughing, never in all my years had someone offer food for such a silly reason, nor with the conviction this girl had.
“….I understand. I shall take the chocolate but tell me how did you summon me? Who taught you, my spell?”
“Oh, I learned about it from daddy and his books. He told me that you are our lord and that you hunger for power. So, I traded with Jimmy from school to get a Power bar.”
She was correct upon closer inspection the bar was indeed a chocolate bar with the company brand” power bar” on it.
“I don’t think that is what your father meant by power.”
“But you took it”
“…I suppose I did, didn’t I”
I opened a portal and prepared myself to leave, but before I could she told me.
“Come back real soon Mr. skeleton. I don’t have it yet, but Jimmy said we can trade my pop tarts for his Powerade tomorrow.”
“Heh, perhaps I will take you up on that offer.”
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[WP] In a world full of magicians, no one expected you to just walk over during the long cast time and punch your opponent in the face.
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One punch was all it took, he was amongst the best mages but as a fighter? nah, he was a nobody. One punch and he was down. He could summon tsunamis, hurricanes, volcanoes, earthquakes if you have him an hour of lead time but nah, one fucking punch and he was down.
This was the very first match of the tournament, he was the last year champion and expected winner of this year's championships. It was my first time, there was not a single bet that was placed on me. The odds were 100-0.
This first match changed the whole championship, all matches turned into a brawl instead of magic battles. Staffs, glass orbs, magic books were used as blunt weapons. The sponserers scrambled to check if their representatives can be changed. I had already cast my spell.
(Very first attempt at story writing, please let me know how it was - thank you).
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Magician: 'your approaching me pesky mortal ?!-what is that-uh a pistol ?
Me: yes. *shoots leg*
Magician: *drops on the ground hard*
Magician: oh great god ! Who would of thought a simple peasent tomfoolery would foil me !!! MY FUCKING LEG-i need a medic ! But my healing spell can-
Me: *shoots wand in half*
Magician: Noooooo-fuck ! Oh god it hurts !
*The magician screaming in agony*
The end
Yes this was not serious. Yes this is a giant meme.
Yes i know its structured like roleplay talk. I just thought i would barge in cause i always thought it would be funny to drop pesky magic dudes with a remington.
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[WP] In a world full of magicians, no one expected you to just walk over during the long cast time and punch your opponent in the face.
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The wizards knelt around their circle of stones. Upon the earthen floor were inscribed runic symbols, glowing a dull blue. The wizards, aged and wrinkled, wearing tatters of clothing, repeated their verse over and over. Their words were practiced and correct, but reeked of desperation.
The doors to their chamber flew open. A younger man, wearing black and red finery and flanked by others in blue and yellow, strode into the room.
"It is over, Vinesar. You cannot overcome the power of the amulet. Your rebellion is over. I now own your kingdom. Your lands, your grimoires.. and your daughter!" The black and red garbed youth boasted.
The eldest wizard turned. "Rathar. Your arrogance can only be exceeded by your cruelty. There was one spell yet that the amulet of Hardok could not protect you from. One that I prayed I would grow old and die without seeing cast. Behold."
The older two elder wizards finished their chant. The circle glowed, and within it a form materialized. Male. Adult. Early 40s. He was in a position familiar to any who slouched within a reclining chair, but when he materialized there was no chair. He fell to the ground, then lept up suddenly.
Rathar froze. "You did not. You summoned him. I thought he a myth."
"Holy fuckin shit where am I. Who are you assholes," the man opined. He attempted to pull his Iron Maiden shirt over his stomach, but he was no longer an XL, and he could not bring himself to order the XXL. Flesh remained visible between his shirt and the top of his sweatpants.
"I am Rathar. And you will not stop by plans, warrior of old. Die!"
Rathar gestured, and a fireball launched from his palm. The man wasn't young, but he coached enough little league to dodge a fly ball tossed at his head while he was looking. "Whoa dude. What the fuck." The fireball passed him and ignited one of the elder wizards. He was immediately engulfed in flame. "Not cool!"
The man saw the other young wizards making their own arcane gestures. He rushed to the first one, punching him straight in the forehead. Deadass inbetween the eyes. The young wizard didn't even dodge. He did fall down though.
"Behold.." Vinesar whispered, captured in awe at the moment. ".. the P U N C H M A S T E R."
Rathar screamed in rage, breaking the canter of his banishment spell. It took a good 25 seconds to cast, but on second two the Punchmaster was striking him about the head and neck. Rathar turned but his knees buckled. The Punchmaster straddled him and began hitting him in the face over and over.
"Oh god" thwack. Slap "My reign is-" thwap. Crack. "You cannot defe-" squish. "STOP IT OH MY GO-" smack.
Rathars' head fell back to the earth. He had no teeth remaining in their original roots. Some were now located on the outside of his head, being flung free and punched back into his rapidly bruising dome. He groaned quietly.
The Punchmaster stopped. All was quiet. Then a chair broke over his head. The remaining wizard had snuck up behind him. Luckily the chair was about 3 pounds maximum. These guys had never been in even a light drunken brawl. Punchmaster turned and struck him in the balls without rising up, his fist contacting the sack like it was the overripe plums of August. The last wizard fell.
"Thank you, warrior," Vinesar approached as quickly as his aged legs could carry him. He snatched the amulet from Rathars' neck while the young one groaned.
Punchmaster stood, "Yeah, uh, no problem I guess. I don't know what that shit was about. I'm not really a warrior, I did some college taekwondo and a little basketball, but now I'm in administration. Jesus you guys have low bone density or something, I didn't mean to fuck that guy up so bad. ..Uh, I'm Jeff."
"He was a foul blight upon my kingdom.. Jeff. You need not feel remorse."
"Yeah he looks like a little shit."
"Indeed. Despite his skill, his spirit imbodied both smallness and excrement."
"So.. uh. I was watching the game. Can I get back home?"
"Not without the crystal of Vormala."
"God damn it."
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Magician: 'your approaching me pesky mortal ?!-what is that-uh a pistol ?
Me: yes. *shoots leg*
Magician: *drops on the ground hard*
Magician: oh great god ! Who would of thought a simple peasent tomfoolery would foil me !!! MY FUCKING LEG-i need a medic ! But my healing spell can-
Me: *shoots wand in half*
Magician: Noooooo-fuck ! Oh god it hurts !
*The magician screaming in agony*
The end
Yes this was not serious. Yes this is a giant meme.
Yes i know its structured like roleplay talk. I just thought i would barge in cause i always thought it would be funny to drop pesky magic dudes with a remington.
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[WP] In a world full of magicians, no one expected you to just walk over during the long cast time and punch your opponent in the face.
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"Representing Molokath's Arcane Academy, I give you Miiosh Brightward, student of Heliomancy!"
The announcer sweeps his arm in my opponent's direction, pointing at a foppish young man in elaborately embroidered white and gold robes. He's got an arrogant smirk on his too-handsome face; probably thinks he's already got this in the bag. My master said I'd probably get a lot of that; I don't look anything like the stereotype that surely springs to mind when you hear the word wizard.
"And his opponent, representing Toriyama's Maho No Dojo, I give you Kazuto Mazikawa, student of, erm, Magijutsu!"
The announcer points to me, I do my best not to squirm uncomfortably under the scrutiny of the assembled spectators. I hear murmured comments about my bright orange gi, my short and oddly spiked hair, my tense stance; I ignore them and clear my mind, preparing for the duel ahead.
Magic comes from within. Everyone has some innate traces, but only a few have the ability to tap into and wield the Arcane forces. Learning to control that power, and make it do as you command is one of the first basic steps for practitioners of any school; you learn how to draw the magic out, let it well up inside you, then release it in whatever configuration your spell dictates. Most schools teach various incantations that require the use of symbolic gestures.
Master Toriyama's school is… a little different.
"One final reminder that, while this *is* a duel to the death, any magic that destroys the soul, or otherwise prevents resurrection, is strictly prohibited! With that said, let the bout begin!"
The wizard across from me claps his hands together before him and closes his eyes, summoning his magic. I close my eyes as well, feeling the power rise within me, invigorating me. Magic enhances the senses, heightens reaction times; some of the more powerful makes use their innate energies to increase the speed of their movements, drastically reducing the casting times of their spells.
My master founded a school devoted to that particular aspect of magic, focusing on using one's gathered power to augment the physical form, rather than wasting time trying to precisely tweak reality to your whims. In Magijutsu, there are no spells to learn, no lengthy incantations, and the core philosophy is very simple; your opponent can't cast any spells if he's unconscious.
I open my eyes, heightened vision picking out the golden strands of Miiosh's aura as he slowly moves his hands about in a series of circles and straight lines, chanting in some other language. Infused with the magic coursing through me, my legs carry me across the arena in an eyeblink. Miiosh balks in surprise as I appear before him, his incantation coming to a sputtering stop. He doesn't get the chance to ask me how I did that; I literally take his breath away with a magic-infused punch that tears through his left lung like tissue paper.
"Tch. Missed the heart."
Miiosh desperately tries to take one last breath, and crumples to the ground at my feet, before disappearing with a flicker. He reappears at the medic station a moment later, shame heavy on his shoulders. I know how he feels; Master Toriyama would not be pleased with my sloppy performance. I'll have to do better in the next round.
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The mage looked quizzically at her opponent as she walked towards her. She was fascinated at what spell this pale-skinned tribal was about to cast with the cracking of her knuckles.
The mage was duly prepared and was about to cast her spell to counter the magical barrage. However, the magician heard no words and saw no components in her counterpart’s closed hands.
Her enamored milling was cut short by a right cross to the cheek and an uppercut to the jaw.
The mage howled and groaned as she hit the floor. Her hand shot out and a bolt of fire unleashed. The spell struck true, but the assaulting female continued her onslaught with stomping kicks to the face and stomach.
“What are you doing?” the mage cried.
“Shut up, nerd.” the Barbarian of a woman spat as she continued to beat the mage to a pulp. “Now give me your money.”
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[WP] In a world full of magicians, no one expected you to just walk over during the long cast time and punch your opponent in the face.
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"Representing Molokath's Arcane Academy, I give you Miiosh Brightward, student of Heliomancy!"
The announcer sweeps his arm in my opponent's direction, pointing at a foppish young man in elaborately embroidered white and gold robes. He's got an arrogant smirk on his too-handsome face; probably thinks he's already got this in the bag. My master said I'd probably get a lot of that; I don't look anything like the stereotype that surely springs to mind when you hear the word wizard.
"And his opponent, representing Toriyama's Maho No Dojo, I give you Kazuto Mazikawa, student of, erm, Magijutsu!"
The announcer points to me, I do my best not to squirm uncomfortably under the scrutiny of the assembled spectators. I hear murmured comments about my bright orange gi, my short and oddly spiked hair, my tense stance; I ignore them and clear my mind, preparing for the duel ahead.
Magic comes from within. Everyone has some innate traces, but only a few have the ability to tap into and wield the Arcane forces. Learning to control that power, and make it do as you command is one of the first basic steps for practitioners of any school; you learn how to draw the magic out, let it well up inside you, then release it in whatever configuration your spell dictates. Most schools teach various incantations that require the use of symbolic gestures.
Master Toriyama's school is… a little different.
"One final reminder that, while this *is* a duel to the death, any magic that destroys the soul, or otherwise prevents resurrection, is strictly prohibited! With that said, let the bout begin!"
The wizard across from me claps his hands together before him and closes his eyes, summoning his magic. I close my eyes as well, feeling the power rise within me, invigorating me. Magic enhances the senses, heightens reaction times; some of the more powerful makes use their innate energies to increase the speed of their movements, drastically reducing the casting times of their spells.
My master founded a school devoted to that particular aspect of magic, focusing on using one's gathered power to augment the physical form, rather than wasting time trying to precisely tweak reality to your whims. In Magijutsu, there are no spells to learn, no lengthy incantations, and the core philosophy is very simple; your opponent can't cast any spells if he's unconscious.
I open my eyes, heightened vision picking out the golden strands of Miiosh's aura as he slowly moves his hands about in a series of circles and straight lines, chanting in some other language. Infused with the magic coursing through me, my legs carry me across the arena in an eyeblink. Miiosh balks in surprise as I appear before him, his incantation coming to a sputtering stop. He doesn't get the chance to ask me how I did that; I literally take his breath away with a magic-infused punch that tears through his left lung like tissue paper.
"Tch. Missed the heart."
Miiosh desperately tries to take one last breath, and crumples to the ground at my feet, before disappearing with a flicker. He reappears at the medic station a moment later, shame heavy on his shoulders. I know how he feels; Master Toriyama would not be pleased with my sloppy performance. I'll have to do better in the next round.
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I didnt mean to kill his parrot.
I had no idea how I had ended up here but, well, life has its ways.
I was a novice, just starting out with the more complicated spells.
I was like those people in story books- a teenage wizard who was awkward and just figuring out life, but that's where the similarities ended.
I sucked at spells, and I really needed to know these perfectly. No I wasn't studying for an exam, there isn't any wizarding school like hogwarts. I mean there is, but its more of extra classes for children whose magic developed at a slower rate than the rest of us.
So here I was, practicing somewhat complicated spells in an open, and what I initially thought as empty, ground.
'Ke-aar Me o no sen' I muttered to myself. Then I picked up a stick and practised flicking it.
Oh right, I forgot to mention, wands aren't a thing. A true wizard (unlike wizards from books and movies) doesnt specifically need a want. We need a piece of nature, like a leaf or a rock, that helps us connect to the mother earth from where we derive our power. A stick is just a sturdy and comfortable option. Actual wands are owned by accomplished wizards, so definitely not me.
'Ke-aar me o no senn' I shouted, while swirling the stick fancily towards a tree. Almost immediately I heard a choking noise and then a shriek.
This scared me. I was practising an asphyxiation spells and now someone was choking. Oh my god, oh my god, oh godddddd.
I rushed towards the tree, trying to remember the reversal spell.
There, more or less hiding behind the tree, stood a man. He was kneeling on the ground, but he wasn't the one making the choking noise. In his hands I saw a parrot.
I sighed a sigh of relief. Yes, I was sad for the parrot's death, but the man's death would have meant much worse things for me. I was too young to be in prison.
"I am so, so sorry. I really didnt see you there.''
The man looked at me, ''you're sorry? Oh, you're sorry, are you?''
I stayed silent, knowing that nothing I could say would make this situation any better.
''Oh, YOU'RE SORRY, ARE YOU NOW?? WELL THAT'S MUCH BETTER. THAT WILL BRING MY LITTLE BABY BACK"
I just stood there awkwardly.
''Is there anything I can do to show you how sorry I am? I really am sorry''
The situation was turning very awkward and a little scary.
''Of course, yes. You know what you can do? Die''
He began chanting something. Now, the thing about some of the most advanced and irreversible spells, like the death spell is that they take a long time to cast.
There were some dangerous spells, like the one I had just cast, which were less time consuming, but they weren't permanent.
The man was staring intensely at me while holding his poor, dead parrot in his hands. Running wouldn't help me escape the spell, which only needed him to get one good look at my face, and I didn't know anything useful to defend myself from it either.
I started panicking, and did the only thing I could think of doing at the moment- I punched him. Unexpectedly, he fell backwards.
Did I kill him?
(Should I continue this in the comments?)
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[WP] In a world full of magicians, no one expected you to just walk over during the long cast time and punch your opponent in the face.
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I walk out into the ornate duelling hall, seeing my opponent for the first time. Luke Greywrath, son of the Magistrate, and resident jackass. He's got a wide, cocky grin on his face. He's been waiting for this since Day 1 at the Imperial Combat Mages Academy. The lights dim and a spotlight shines to the announcer just above the arena.
"Ladies and Gentleman, Wizards and Witches, welcome to the final duel of the night!" The crowd cheers, abuzz with excitement. It's not for me, of course. Luke has quite the reputation, having yet to lose a duel since arriving, and has quickly become this year's top mage. I do everything I can to suppress a smile. "And tonight, we have a _special_ bout for you! On one side, a magician who has yet to lose a duel at our fine academy. Son of the magistrate, he already shows fantastic promise to be the next greatest graduate this school has ever seen! Ladies and Gentlemen, Luuuuuke Greywrath!!" The crowd cheers again, this time with even greater vigor, for their resident champion. He smiles and waves at the crowd, obviously soaking in the adoration. He loves it.
"And on the other, the only student here to serve a tour of duty *before* enrolling in our fine Academy, for his first bout within the Arena, Jordaaaan Bakerr!"
A few claps. Hah, seems like they don't know what to think of that. The announcer quickly goes over the rules, standard combat duel, first to fall loses. Excellent. I start walking forward as the fanfare erupts and the lights return, signalling the start of the duel. 20 meters between myself and Luke. Jackass is still smiling, cocky bastard.
I see his fingertips start to glow red and I recognize the symbol he draws in the air to be fire wave. Potent opener, but, unfortunately for Luke, predictable. As he finishes his cast, I step two steps to the left and keep walking forward. A rush of fire and molten rock fly by me. 15 meters.
He winces in frustration, and quickly goes to cast another. Ice crystals form in the air around him as blue magical energy circles up his arms. I quickly assess where his arm is pointing, count to 3, and jump to the right, right before a beam of ice shoots where I just was. His smile disappears as he misses again, good. I'm getting to him.
He's getting angry. Cackling electricy runs from his heart to his fingers as he motions to charge up a spell. Thunderstorm, area of effect. Seems like he doesn't want to miss this time.
He is good, but the high-level spell he chose just bought me 10 seconds of cast time. After a few quick flicks of my fingers, I break into a dead sprint- straight towards him. His confident facade falters as I quickly cast speed and strength caltrops on myself. My arm begins to glow red as I close the distance between us.
You see, on my tour of duty, I learned something. Something invaluable when it comes to surviving combat, something noone here seems to understand.
The goal isn't to cast the biggest, most destructive spell.
The goal, is to eliminate the enemy, in *whatever way possible*.
Many young mages, such as Luke here, do no understand that. They think that magic duels on the battlefield are honorable, they think that if they cast a spell, so too will their opponent to counter it. They think of honor and glory, not of blood and stone.
In that, they are wrong. In 8 seconds flat, I'm less than one meter away from him. I can see his face contort from pride and prejudice to sheer terror as my fist comes up, and he realizes he doesn't have enough time to finish the incantation.
My fist connects with bone and tissue, every muscle fiber in my arm dedicated strictly to putting this shit-stain down. With a flash of red and a loud 'CRRACK', I slam his head into the wall behind him, a destructive shockwave coming out of the stone behind his head. As he slides down the wall losing consciousness, the crowd is stunned into silence. Luke lay on the ground, defeated.
After a few moments, one person starts clapping. Then another. And another, and before I know it the whole stadium is roaring my name in sinful delight.
Before today, they saw duels. But tonight, they saw a glimpse of *real* combat.
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Sure waiting for the magician to finish the spell would have probably been the proper thing to do, but choosing to cast a spell that takes 20 minutes, five what I think are runes, and seven incantations just to charge up his magic before actually casting a five letter fire spell seemed like… well a waste of time.
So a punch to the nose seemed the appropriate response. “Next time just pick one that takes a few second. We don’t have time to waste on all the rituals.” Huffing I held out my hand to help the magician back up off the ground. “Or just use the staff as a blunt object? Thing has got to be heavy.”
Once the man was back up I then pulled out my book and read a small water spell to make a rain cloud over his head. “Shoulda went for the spell book instead, some have short cuts and don’t need magic stones. Plus ones that are very obvious and long ones on what your doing is easier to counter.”
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[WP] In a world full of magicians, no one expected you to just walk over during the long cast time and punch your opponent in the face.
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Fights in the mages arena were long and drawn. Cast times could take upwards of three minutes, of just watching two guys make ridiculous hand motions and practice their breathing techniques at one another. "An art form" is what other chumps called it. A practice in patience and discipline. I never was much of a patient man.
So as the mage across from me moved his hands I did not run to stop him. I did not cast a spell of my own to counter his, no, I just walked across that stone floor. I think the audience thought I was getting in range or some other wizard bullshit, because as I stepped up it was like they stopped breathing. They grew so quiet that my footsteps became loud.
I knew the spell the guy was casting, or at least I thought I did. Just because I didn't buy into the "art" didn't mean I wasn't versed. Destruction Point, I think it was. Nasty bit of wizardry. Took a minute-thirty to cast. Only took fifteen to walk across the field.
As I approached my opponents eyes grew wide with confusion, or maybe fear. Couldn't tell. Regardless he continued those stupid hand movements at that same snails pace. Little puffs of smoke had begun forming at his fingertips by the time I'd arrived, and for any other mage he'd be trouble. But not me. My school practiced practicality first, magic second.
So, practically speaking, I was within range to knock his teeth down his throat. So I did. As I pulled my fist back his eyes grew even wider. Then, with as much force as I could I hit him square in the face. The crowd let out a collective gasp. The wizard across from me stumbled backwards clutching his jaw. Bits of blood dripped out of his open mouth and stained his gray silk robes red.
"You just...did you just hit me?!"
Rather than reply I strolled up to him and hit him again...and again...and again. He failed to block a single one, I'm not sure he even knew how. The crowd gasped with each one. Between hits he'd bring his hands up to cast something which was cut short every time by another blow to the face. Another jab to the ribs. More punches connecting with a loud *thwap* every time I swung.
After a simple barrage of half-assed punches he fell back, his face swollen and bloody. The crowd grew silent once more. From the stands a voice called out to me, a tall and lanky man with a long gown of the finest wealth. Head of Magics, Thom I think he was called.
"You did not use any magic? Not a single spell." he sounded accusatory.
"Nope. Turns out I didn't need em." I yelled back. Cleaning the blood on my fist off on my jacket for emphasis.
"I..I can see that. But, you didn't utilize your skills."
"Ah yeah. Turns out I didn't need those either." a group of simply dressed mages came out and began performing a group healing cast on my opponent. Five minutes it would take to complete.
"So...bring out the next guy then!" I yelled.
The door that led from my opponents quarters to the arena opened with a great deal of hesitancy. Out walked a mage dressed in fine red robes, a large leather bound book strapped to his side just for show. Graythar the Great I think they called him.
I wondered if he could take a punch.
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Sure waiting for the magician to finish the spell would have probably been the proper thing to do, but choosing to cast a spell that takes 20 minutes, five what I think are runes, and seven incantations just to charge up his magic before actually casting a five letter fire spell seemed like… well a waste of time.
So a punch to the nose seemed the appropriate response. “Next time just pick one that takes a few second. We don’t have time to waste on all the rituals.” Huffing I held out my hand to help the magician back up off the ground. “Or just use the staff as a blunt object? Thing has got to be heavy.”
Once the man was back up I then pulled out my book and read a small water spell to make a rain cloud over his head. “Shoulda went for the spell book instead, some have short cuts and don’t need magic stones. Plus ones that are very obvious and long ones on what your doing is easier to counter.”
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[WP] You were so proud when your toddler began babbling so you showed all your friends. One friend quickly pulls you aside. Terrified, they whisper “That child isn’t babbling. It’s speaking R’lyehian, the language of the Elder Gods.”
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"Well, I should hope so."
Andrew did a double take at my curtness. "I-what?!"
"I mean, Kellie and I went to all the trouble of doing the playing-Mozart-in-the-womb thing except with some old hymns from Kellie's home plane of reality, so I'm really happy Veronica learned so quickly."
Andrew looked like he'd been stabbed by a nun and was being told why it was his fault. "Layla, you-your wife is an eldritch being?!"
I shrugged. "Yeah? What's with the-" My eyes widened as the realization sunk in. "Oh my God, nobody told you."
My wife Kellie rounded the corner with a tray full of brownies and a cheery, "Hey, what's going on over here, party people?"
I took a brownie and replied, "Andrew didn't know you were an Elder Godspawn until right now," before shoving the brownie into my mouth.
"Oh shit, for real? I guess we never told him."
Andrew looked like he was about to explode. "No! No, you did not tell me! How did this even happen?!"
I blushed. "Well, remember how I said we met on a dating app, back when we were at Albion Tech? That was a lie; that night I actually snuck out to perform the Clarity of Possibility ritual."
Andrew didn't dignify me with a response, and instead pressed his head against the wall with a quiet 'thud'. His exasperation was entirely justified; the Clarity of Possibility ritual was one of the most dangerous magical spells a mage could ever perform. It pulled back the veil that kept all the various realms and planes of reality separate from each other, allowing one to see the whole of magic existing together. Doing it wrong meant running the risk of getting trapped in the In-Between of everything- or even worse, summoning something you didn't mean to.
"It was beautiful, seeing magic in all its forms held in place like bubbles that had been frozen in the air. But then I realized I hadn't done the attention-deflector charm perfectly correct, and by that I mean a living blob of tentacles threw itself out of the In-Between, landed in front of me, and shaped itself into an absolutely *breathtaking* woman."
Kellie giggled. "Oh, stop! Anywho, Layla started panicking, but then I told her I wasn't going to do anything crazy or immoral, I just wanted to see the human realm. One thing led to another, we got married, I popped a kid inside her, and here we are."
Andrew didn't even look at us. He just pulled away from the wall, mumbled, "I'm getting a mimosa," and trudged off to the kitchen. Kellie winced. "We may have broken your friend."
"Oh, he'll be fine, don't worry. In the meantime, let's get back to the others. Molly said her son has been trying to pull off a Milly Rock and I want to see how close he's getting."
"Lead the way, my stunning sorceress."
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It was Saqib who pointed it out - he was a Lovecraft nut, and was there whilst my boy, Ted, was babbling away before getting ready for nursery. He went white as a sheet (which was saying something, compared to his usual darker-than-everage Pakistani skin), and just pulled me into my kitchen, gleaming and glowing in the morning light from the window.
"Dave," he whispered, terrified. "Ted isn't babbling?"
"What the hell are you talking about, Saqib?"
"He speaking Lovecraft's language. I recognise it from the wider literature. I wasn't sure what I was hearing these past few weeks, but it made me feel....*weird*. Like nothing made sense. It wasn't until my walls started screaming and bleeding purple, though, that I looked into it." He looked me in the eyes, whites bloodshot and his pupils fully dilated. "*He's speaking to Elder Gods.*"
I thought about it, and nodded. I clapped Saqib on the shoulder, and told him, "I'll take your word for it, and get it checked out. Thanks for letting me know."
I showed him the door, and closed it after him.
...Well, shit.
I was going to need to talk to my half brother, and ask It what It was talking to my son about. Perks of being a Scion, I guess.
Thanks, Dad.
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[WP] You were so proud when your toddler began babbling so you showed all your friends. One friend quickly pulls you aside. Terrified, they whisper “That child isn’t babbling. It’s speaking R’lyehian, the language of the Elder Gods.”
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''*Huh. Well, that's certainly different.*''
Perhaps I should have shown more of a shock. Should have been more distressed to learn that my son, Ewan, was not in fact babbling like a normal toddler, but was in fact intoning dread secrets of the antediluvian world ruled over by ancient and terrible gods that mere mortal men should not dare to know, lest that knowledge drive them insane. Perhaps I should have reacted more horrified, or maybe indignant, angry that someone would dare to insinuate that my son was a conduit for ancient dread creatures. I probably shouldn't have followed up my initial reaction with something equally unconcerned. ''*So, he's talking in a language from a dread unknowable city that lies beneath the waves, that one day when the stars are right will rise from beneath the abyssal seas to unleash an untold age of horror and madness upon the world. A city that will be a dread capital of a world-spanning empire of unimaginable evil, mutations, unholy magicks, and such, led by dread Cthulhu who at the moment lies dead-but-dreaming, but who'll soon awake to drive mankind to the brink of madness and beyond?*'' My friend nodded with abject horror, it was clear that only the prospect of driving out this unimaginable evil from the world was keeping her from giving in to the insanity.
''*So what exactly do you want me to do about it?*''
She gesticulated fiercely in a manner that could only be described as frantic and chaotic. ''*Siobhan, you've got to exorcise it or something.*'' I gave her a rather unpleasant frown. ''It''? Still my son. Rather rude to dehumanize him like that. Sure, he might be exclaiming unbidden truths that no mortal ear has ever survived hearing without going mad, but that was honestly a bit rude. ''*I think I'd have to talk with his father about that. You know, my husband.*'' She nodded, fearful and in tears, hoping that perhaps my husband would speak sense about my son who had elegantly created a small Shoggoth from a small mound of colourful clay that children usually play with. He's instructed it to build something akin to an obelisk. ''*Please, Siobhan, it's all wrong. It hurts to look at your son, and I don't like the way the other kids are listening to him. They look at me and make me think that it is wrong that I exist, that I have been poisoned by lies and falsehoods perpetrated by weak and worthless gods. Please, the words echo in my head and I can't get them out! Please!*'' I pick my son up and look at him with warm, loving eyes. ''*Who wants to see his daddy?*'' Babbling incoherently but rather joyfully in the extradimensional Elder Speech, he pointed at an unusual angle of the room which should not be there according to any form of mathematics understood by humanity. From it, my husband emerged.
A handsome fellow indeed. My friends screamed and looked at him in total and utter terror, some going completely and utterly mad from the mere sight of him. Of course, they've got a rather limited view of reality, and have extremely limited frames of reference, mental experience with the unusual, and a far too comfortable misunderstanding about how the world works to ever be able to look upon as I do. Gently, his warm bubbling tendrils emerge from where his vaguely equine face ends and caress my cheek ever so lovingly. ''*Oh yeah, girls, I never introduced you to my husband. I know, I got married overseas, well, under the sea. This is Glatho'lyyn the Breaker, he's a Byakhee. Most of you will be unable to recall what he looks like, but I think he's a handsome fella.*'' My husband screeches curiously, I never learned the language of drowned R'lyeh, but during my dream-quests I got pretty good at Screech-tongue, Higher Ghoulish, Cronqke, and the Nightmare Speech of the lower Skullworlds. ''*Oh, they're just a being a bit silly.*'' I motion towards the girls who're pulling their hair, screaming for assistence from their weak gods, and begging for death. Curiously, their children look at Glathy with the natural curiosity and wonder most people scrub away from their children.
Without it, the beings from beyond the veil of our universe becomes quite uncomfortable to behold, and leads to one gazing into the abyssal madness as the maw of insanity gnaws at your soul. But with wonder and imagination, one can never go wrong, and one will what is truly there, not reality as filtered through the lens of ones' own fears and inadequacies. ''*Well, it turns out that little Ewanthi'creejsh has started speaking in the Elder Speech, I figured that you should know.*'' He screeches loudly, crushing the glass windows of the house we're in, as reality begins refolding itself to accommodate my eldritch husband. And my eldritch son, as his human disguise peels off revealing a half-human half... vague bat-crow-horse thing. Sadly the English language lacks the words necessary to explain just how a byakhee exactly looks, without sounding like someone trying to explain a mathematically impossible body appearing in our reality. ''*About time. He's been so loud recently, figured it was about time he moulted.*'' I hand over our son to my husband as the various housewives begin praying futilely to the dread lord of sunken R'lyeh. While in his father's grasp, Ewan speaks to the women, my friends, and the other toddlers in the room. The women weep what appears to be spinal fluid. And around them their children giggle as Ewan's magical influence begins to warp their bodies into new forms that are far more suitable for a world where the stars are nearly right. ''*Glathy, did you teach him how to speak without telling me?*''
He screeches sheepishly and vaguely apologetically. I get it, young eldritch hybrids need it to grow, but really, he could have warned me. He nudges me with his tendril-snout, to ask me if we're still on for dinner with his parents later. ''*Yeah, it's been a while hasn't it, haven't seen them since... oh last Yule I think. How time flies in a linear universe. I remember it well, I was riding on your back, we were slaughtering ghoul assassins by the hundreds. Rather fun time if you don't mind me saying. Your parents really knows how to throw a fun party.*'' Above us the roof melts into pure binary numbers as the newly reformed toddlers stare with glee into the sky, where the stars are eyes and the moon cracks in half. Earth is certainly in for an interesting time. Glathy nods over at our house, and I understand completely what he is saying in my mind through images appearing in my memory of a realtor. ''*No, I think we can take it with us. I get that we have a bone-mansion near the flesh-parks of the Ebon Pillar, but if we put the house down by the lake of boiling god-souls, we could turn more of a profit selling it later.*'' He nods and the house falls into a blackened abyss.
The stars might be right. The age that mankind has known is at an ending. But only for those who are stuck in the past. I can feel the weight lifted off of hundreds of millions of shoulders as their human flesh undulates and shifts to reveal their terrible true forms. People who were tired of the same old world that never changed, and always remained stuck in the same predictable cycle, now understand that freedom has come. Terrible, eldritch freedom, for those with the will and strength of force to accept it and adapt to it. Of course, it is a shame that the rest of mankind will go mad from it and die horribly, but I am not in control of the stars and thus cannot change that outcome. My own human form is washed away just as well as that of most of the members of mankind who are willing to accept that the future is here. Void-chitin covers my body, as multi-coloured wings extend from my back. My third eye emerges upon my forehead, and my secondary arms grow steadily in. I chitter with my mandibles in joy. ''*Come husband-of-mine. Your parents' manor on the Isles of Teeth awaits us.*'' I take his free claw-hand-hoof and together, with our joyful eldritch son, we leave the Earth behind for the dreamlands.
I still remember leaving Earth for the first time, venturing into the dream-realms for glory, riches, and a great destiny. Perhaps this time, I won't be returning. But having shed my old human form, and having a new life of high adventure and strange events ahead of me, I don't think I'll miss Earth. Not at all.
[/r/ApocalypseOwl](https://www.reddit.com/r/ApocalypseOwl/)
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I laughed it off at first, but then I started to worry. What if my friend, Rashid, was right? What if little Tommy was speaking to the Elder Gods? I couldn’t just sit there and do nothing. I was a responsible parent after all. So I did the only reasonable thing. I sought out an expert.
Dr. Harmitage sat in his office, his eyes wide with disbelief as he listened to Tommy speak. His mouth hanged open, his glasses were askew, and he was sweating profusely. When I asked if I should be worried, he simply said:
“No. Oh God, no. We’re all so fucked.”
After what felt like an eternity, Dr. Harmitage looked up from his laptop and turned it around. On the screen was an image of an old tome. It was written in a language that looked vaguely like Arabic. It was as if someone had taken Arabic and then thrown it into a woodchipper and used the results to make new text.
“See this text? It’s R’lyehian, a language spoken by the Old Ones. The dead gods. The evil gods. And that child is speaking it.”
“So… what? It’s bad?” I asked fearfully.
“It’s really bad. That child, he’s not speaking a language. He’s entering it.”
“What do you mean?”
“This text is from Necronomicon Ex Mortus, from Chapter Thirteen: ‘The God Whispers’. Whether it is knowledge of Old Earth or knowledge of the Elder Gods, I don’t know, but your son is entering this language. He is speaking it. It is being written into his soul.”
“So what do we do?” I asked.
“There is no way to stop it. If it’s begun, it can’t be stopped. This knowledge is in his head. What was written will be written. Only time will tell what effect it will have on him.”
He then leaned in close. I could smell the cigarette smoke and whiskey on his breath as he whispered:
“That child, he will be a god.”
"Vengeful like the sea and inescapable like a bog that claims you in the night."
I looked into Tommy's blue eyes. He smiled at me and as he did so he fat little cheeks produced the most adorable dimples.
I smiled back, feeling the warm glow of loving one's child.
I then saw the Elder God in Tommy's eyes. I saw him and I saw the sea, a sea of blood and madness. I saw Cthulhu, the Great Dreamer, and I saw blackness, and emptiness. I saw death and I saw the void.
I saw what the future would hold, and I knew that all hope was lost.
So, I went into the woods with Tommy and I left him in the woods. I left him there so that he would die. I left him there to ensure his death. I left him there to ensure the future was as it was meant to be.
I returned home, a weight lifted from my heart. The burden of what was to come had lifted. It was a burden that I did not want to carry.
A few days later, I received a call from the police. They wanted to know if I had lost a child in the woods. Apparently, a few hikers had found a boy, dead. He had died from exposure.
I trying calling Dr. Harmitage. But his number had been disconnected. I went to his office. But I couldn't find him. A realtor had taken over Dr. Harmitage's office and insisted he had had that office for years. Even my friend Rashid remembered nothing about Dr. Harmitage or Tommy speaking R’lyehian when he finally agreed to visit me in prison.
Sometimes, I wonder if I made the right choice? Maybe it was all in my head?
But I know better.
I know better.
***
For more stories visit r/greypuffin.
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[WP] You have been a wizard for 350 years but your apprentice still surprises you. You laughed at her pink fireball and the green one too. The invisible one suddenly made you much more serious.
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I’m here to attempt to explain this spell scientifically, in scene.
——
“Hey, what’s… what color was that?” I asked, my robes still exuding smoke. Thankfully my evocation shields held enough to prevent almost all injury, save for a few patches of hair.
“Oh, it’s ultra-violet. Something I discovered while working with combination spells.” Genius woman, this one. Though young for a witch, her tenacity continued to approach, and even threaten to outpace, my own.
Her own clothes were much more protective of elements than my own. Hide and wood reinforcing her armored robe, and a thick staff with a inductive sleeve on the handle.
“And how, exactly, is that effect produced?” Despite the smell of burnt hair and slight stinging, I was much more interested in the components I had seen her use. Silver dust, mercury, magnetite, nothing for a fireball.
“This is wonderful. By using wind magic, which luckily has no components, I lift the fine silver dust into the air using Gust.”
I nodded, understanding the utility. I had also used Gust to abet many deadly combinations.
“Then, using the magnetite, which I embed into a modified sling-ring, I create an electrical charge.
In my spare hand, at the same time, I double cast Gust and Heat Metal together. Luckily enough, mercury vapor can be targeted as a whole.”
Double-Casting, Meredith never ceases to surprise me. The dangerous and difficult technique, one that took me ten years to master, and another 30 to perform a Triple, she had mastered in 3 and 5 years respectively.
“By aerosolizing the mercury in the same area as the silver dust, and then releasing the built charge, each is superheated and begins spontaneously combusting.
Then, it’s a complex matter of minor graviturgy and Gust Cone to direct the explosion.”
Astounding.
“And this flame, obviously very hot, is entirely ultra-violet, causing its invisibility?”
She wiggled her hand back and forth. “Mostly. It requires perfect timing and ratios, otherwise it’s either inert, or it has color. “
“We’ll, it’s great work either way. But I couldn’t help but notice that you didn’t do what you explained. Instead, you tossed some kind of gas canister near me. What’s that?”
She smiled wickedly. “Timing and Ratio. I pre-combined the mercury and silver inside, separated by thin glass. When thrown, it breaks, and mixes as it tumbles.
Then, once it hits, I can achieve a similar effect by activating stored spells on the sides of the can, Shocking Grasp and Heat Metal respectively. That, plus the pressure created by the can, makes it both easier and more effective than a regular fireball. Needs a lot of prep work though.”
I nodded, having now picked up and begin examining a shard of the can.
“And why not just do as you said, and cast the spell with your hands?”
Meredith gripped her right arm with her left hand, a nervous tick.
“We’ll, it’s very hard. I’m certain you could do it, but between needing a double cast, my reaction time actually isn’t up to par unless I risk a triple cast with chronomancy. And we both know how bad a shaky time-dilation is. I’ve only managed it once by hand.”
I was proud, at the very least. Meridith had always been clever, and while her raw talent for spells did not yet match my own, she had mastered physical components and how to use them, and to means far greater than myself.
“You’ve used tools and machines to achieve consistent results. That’s more artificer than witch.
But it’s still amazing. The sheer threat associated with it, especially towards an unwilling enemy. Nearly impossible to counter spell, since multiple cantrips are used in conjunction.
But let me see about how hard it is to cast.”
I readied myself, taking from Meridiths components, and splitting my mind to prepare for double and triple casts.
Meredith, while I worked, set up a group of wooden targets.
Finally, the spell. I had a small vial in each hand, one of mercury and one of silver. First, I lifted and blew the vial of silver into the air, then, performing the dreaded double cast, I lifted the mercury with a second gust, while at the same time heating it.
Fast. Very fast. I could see the cloud of silver and mercury moving out of its perfect ratios before my eyes. A triple cast was indeed necessary, and I bore down on myself, setting a 2x time dilation upon myself.
Superheated mercury and silver was glowing faintly in front of me, as the three spells I was casting took over. But I had set up incorrectly, and I would not be able to separately cast the catalyst Shocking Grasp.
A Quadruple Cast, something I still struggled with. My record. Gust, Heat Metal, Dilation, and Shocking Grasp. Splitting the mind into two pieces is already terrifying, and often more than enough to drive a man mad. I sang the inactions of the spell with four voices of my own mind, and the desired effect was produced.
The Metal in front of me flashed, and then was gone, and all of a sudden a wave of heat washed over me. The targets had it worse, blistering and charring instantly, while the force of the explosion itself shattered the closest.
After seeings the devastation that could be wrought in the hands of a master like myself, I promptly collapsed onto the cool stone of our testing room, confident that my clever apprentice would carry me to my quarters.
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"Novice Euka, what is the goal of fire," you ask as you pat the last tiny embers out on your sleeve.
"To consume, Master."
"And why do we harness fire?"
"To warm, to light, to feed, to fight."
"Are you sure about that last one?"
"No, Master. "
"So?"
"To light, to warm, to feed."
"Can an unseen flame give light? Can a cold body find it to warm themselves? Can it be properly tended to prepare a meal?"
You had been traveling for decades as an elemental mage. Your true affinity was for earth magic, for all things under the ground and all that come from it.
But, given enough practice and patience and time, any elemental mage can learn outside of their affinities. After nearly four centuries of study and workings, you could wield just about any of the natural world's forces with ease. With finesse, even. Of course, for you, it was work. You were not like the students you taught in the Enclave, the children of guild headsmen and of deeply pedigreed mages, and their children, and their children to follow their forebears every step of the formal education process. Among those, and increasingly so, were the children whose births had been arranged to bring forth combined affinities or improved abilities within them. Their births were timed to holy days or to occur at the ends of pilgrimages or at any number of powerful sites in the land.
You had traded your Enclave velvet for green traveler's wool long ago, keeping only your embroidered belt, your own design in silver, gold, blue, and red threads, each color earned when you demonstrated adept skill at the signified element. Instead of the heavy cloaks, sweeping hems, and deep pleats, you wore much lighter garb and had attired your pupil the same. Of all your increasingly gifted students, and there had been tens of thousands, none was quite so interesting as this one. As with most of your pupils you had met on the road, she had enough control to keep herself out of trouble, but had an intriguing creativity unseen in those being groomed for the Enclave or the Armory. She had skills and talents that only became evident under your tutelage.
She had seen you a small time ago, and began to travel slowly behind you. She pretended not to follow you as she closed the distance. You pretended not to notice. And one day, when she crept up to your fire, the one she watched you make with a bit of lightning and dry tinder, you left part of your meal to her. At that time, her thin frame and sharp glare, added to her raspy voice and relative skill with a blade did enough to hide her true nature. But now, it's unlikely that anybody would mistake her for a random boy on a battlefield. That isn't to say she has been your only interesting student. When the Armory turned their attention to the Enclave and you turned your eyes to the road, you had met many with the gifts. And what's more, they had built their relationship with their elements through contact and feeling. You were musing about a water-attuned pupil who became a well-sought healer when your pupil's voice pulled you from your thoughts.
"Master?"
"Yes Novice Euka?"
"Why don't we say 'to fight'? I've heard the Heralds of the Hearth often enough." You kissed your teeth. Heralds of the Hearth indeed. "What have you heard *me* say often enough?" you continued. Euka blinked, half cocking her half a right eyebrow, a consequence of unsupervised practice."What we take?" you prompt, trailing off intentionally.
"What we take from nature, nature will take from us!"
"When we take a life with our gifts, we have taken from nature twice. Do you know for certain that you can pay the price?"
"Twice?"
"Yes, Novice Euka. Twice. What two things do we take?"
"The power," she pauses "and the life."
"Yes. and when we take so much, can you think of anything you'd be willing to give in return?"
Your pupil went silent, eyes lowered, brows furrowed, gait stiff.
"So! Let's have a seat so you can tell me what's on your mind when you make the colored flames?"
"Master?"
"As an earth mage by birth, we learn to color flame with some of the metals we draw from the earth. But I've never seen the colors come as vividly as when you created them yourself. And I've never, ***never*** seen an unseen flame."
"Oh, I...I think the colors are of my innermost thoughts, Master."
"Is it the feeling of the thought or is it the desire?"
"I'm not sure, Master."
"Can you talk to me as we try again?"
"I will try, Master." But while she was able to create the green flame, a pink one, and a violet one, she was silent in her concentration.
"Novice Euka?"
"Yes, Master?"
"They were gorgeous, but you didn't speak."
"Apologies, Master."
"Unnecessary. Can I?"you ask, extending your hands to her temples, hovering at the sides, waiting for her response. "Yes, Master," she sighed.
"I'm not a mind reader, you know?"
"Master?"
"I'm not a diviner or a scryer. When I touch you, I'll be feeling for your magic as it moves in your mind. I will feel the intensity, but not the details. The thoughts themselves will remain your own."
"That's interesting, Master."
And while your student didn't say more, her shoulders relaxed and she leaned into your outstretched hands. "When you are ready, Novice Euka. Any colors you wish." As your student began, the flame showed green, moving through orange and red, and up to blue. And while your hands felt a steady thrumming at green, it slowed through orange and red, then sped up at blue.
"Novice Euka, can you make the unseen?" She nodded, imperceptibly to your eye, very perceptibly to your hands, and the thrumming sped up further until it was a steady whine. You let it continue until you reached your conclusion. "Novice Euka, thank you. You can release."
"Can I ask, what were you thinking about when you made the unseen flames, Novice Euka?"
"May I release our formal tone? Master?"
"Speak freely, Euka."
"I think of battle. Or the thoughts during battle. thrust.dodge.duck.roll.up.turn.thrust.parry.listen.half-step.slash.up.roll. It's all so fast. It's the only thing in your head. and it's so fast you lose yourself." You let your student lean fully onto you.
"Do you know why I truly left the Enclave? Why I took to the road to teach?"
"To reconnect with the elements in their natural aspects?"
"Well, yes. Yes and....."
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[WP] You have been a wizard for 350 years but your apprentice still surprises you. You laughed at her pink fireball and the green one too. The invisible one suddenly made you much more serious.
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And then it happened. I had challenged Serena to face me, as I had done many times. Using the Power involved much concentration, and it was most well-used for constructive purposes, but sometimes defensive skills were desirable.
If I was to send her out into the world with the ability to alter it, I knew well that there would be those who would resent that ability; and one cannot always remain vigilant. I may have imparted more... caution than I intended.
Serena's approach to the world at large had generally been one of acceptance, assuming a commonality that she no longer shared, but did not yet understand. As I aided her in her progress, she had begun to develop adaptations that I was unaccustomed to seeing in someone of such a young age - alternately hiding and showing her talents. It seemed like a reflexive form of self-protection, until I realized that I had imposed that on her.
Wizards, in my early years, had flaunted their skills and had depended upon intimidation and mystery to keep themselves safe from repercussions. I had fallen victim to that trap when others learned that the strength of my skills depended on my ability to focus on them, and that I could not keep that focus indefinitely. It was much safer for me to find a place to insert a wedge. Instead of holding up a bridge, if I could find where the bridge was weakest and block the damage or decay, it would still be standing after I had stopped thinking about it.
Serena, on the other hand, favored direct action. Showy displays, immediate results. I suspect this was a result of her age and lack of the availability or appeal of quiet contemplation, the latter of which comes with early training.
She had learned the satisfaction of being able to change the world, but not the weight of being able to do so. When she was younger and was brought to me I recognized her talent and encouraged it, but tempered it heavily with caution. I see now that I have conveyed a lesson I did not intend.
Instead of encouraging her to learn other uses for her ability, I seem to have driven her to hone it and conceal it.
It is time to give her the tea. I will learn from this, and remember. I will endeavor to not make the same error with another in future.
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Part 1
He regarded himself piece by piece to ensure his countenance composed. In magic, and in guiding the young, the visage of the master must be tended. Without creativity there is no progress, but without control there is calamity. This glass needle-tip is the master's workshop, the site of the most divine and transcendent, mysterious natural science, the rearing of the next generation of magic. A peculiar alchemy, surely, not one so literal as the management of metals, but one that takes similar artful precision. He ran his palms, sweaty from his quick work, down the front of his robes as his mind focused on his face, easing the wrinkles from the corners of his eyes and smoothing the involuntary twist in his face that came unbidden at the disorder of the shop. He righted his tall hat, nearly toppled from the rush of turbulent airs.
Three years, three months, and three days ago, the woods brought him a gift, as per the terms of their agreement. From the night of their contract to the delivery of their promise nearly 20 years passed, but he did not expect quickness of the eternal fae. Sustained as he was by elixer and energy, he was old and older still. Intellectual pursuits could sustain the right mind for lifetimes, but human flesh is human flesh, the human mind the same. Three lifetimes, no, three lifetimes and a half are enough to be alone. The deep wood pressed as heavy on the walls of the cottage, the walls of the tower, as the air upon the dirt and the water upon the floor of the sea. He needed refreshment, and someone to help him deal with the weight. And so he asked the fae, known to pick up strays for their mysterious reasons and to their mysterious ends, and with whom he kept positive mutual relations--as mutual as they could be so that they might stay positive. The contract was made of chanted song, swirling fog, and yarrow dew. They asked to watch the child from their woods, for his favor in return, and for a poem. He knew not why they fulfilled his request so cheaply, but he had taken his precautions. The fae would not sever relations with the wizard lightly; their power, immense and amorphous, could not be easily focused, like the sun under a magnifying lens, as could the wizard's.
He spent the interim years in quiet anticipation, preparing. They brought him Oleander.
She came, heralded by a whippoorwill in the morning. Her mouth was stained by the berries she popped into her mouth even as she looked with wonder at his habiliments. Her own vestments were threadbare relics from her life before the woods. Clearly, the fae did not keep her so long that she forgot human words and bonds. He sensed no trickery. Hazelnut skin and hair, and a bearing of confidence despite her predicament and the grime and tangles that covered her. The whippoorwill hollered three times with tilted head and flitted away through the trees. So long had he studied in these woods, but as the child looked at him the ancient flame of protection and stewardship fanned in his breast.
Three years of study and lesson, chore and play, work and meal, passed, and the wizard felt that time had suddenly accelerated from the slow dilation of his solitude. Oleander jabbered and withdrew and jabbered again, progressed then withdrew then progressed again, and she grew out of clothes faster than he thought to sew more. The sprouts of her magic grew so fast that the tree itself grew malformed and wild. In other times their growth stifled without any seeming correlation to the temperance of their conditions. He spent sleepless nights at his desk, charting her progress and pondering the endless puzzles of growth. It was happy work.
Rarely, the child would present him with some counterfactual to the natural order in which her human faculties developed. She cared for the herbs she learned to cultivate in the cottage garden, and looked to him with respect and affection, as he did to her. Accordance between men, and accordance with the earth: this results, in humans, in a set of predictable behaviors, behaviors that facilitate the felicitous exercise of the sciences and satisfaction of human needs. But one day at the height of summer, the sun madly radiating from the apex of the sky's blue arc, he found her at the edge of the wood, cradling a whippoorwill in her arms. The creature was slain. Her tears fell into the matted blood that congealed around a circular wound, made by a sling. Her sling quietly sat in a heap of leaves some yards away, hardly damaged by her throw. Now, it's no great mystery why a child would test itself by shooting birds with a sling, no mystery why the child would weep when their aim was true. But why this bird? Why this bird, he asked her. She could not answer him. He sighted a mockingjay in the canopy. It sat knowingly, imperiously, but he sensed no hostility. His gaze lingered on the forest as he took her by the shoulder and brought her in for a hearty supper.
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[WP] You have been a wizard for 350 years but your apprentice still surprises you. You laughed at her pink fireball and the green one too. The invisible one suddenly made you much more serious.
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“Show me what you’ve learnt, Lillian.” I said.
“I think you’ll be surprised to see what I’ve developed!” She exclaimed.
“You never fail to get me to chuckle.” I snickered, twiddling my thumbs as i awaited to see her showcase.
Lillian was my second apprentice, but she was an avid and quick-learning student. She was approaching her third year under my tutelage. I recalled the first time I met her - a small-orphaned girl on the side of the road. Her fifteenth birthday was quickly approaching, I had thought about what gift would be most appropriate for her coming-of-age ceremony.
“Come, follow me into the training quarters.” I spoke. She followed obediently but with a pep in her step.
The darkly-lit training room was vast inside.The large six sided walls I built were to keep the destruction of any magic to a minimum inside. I had created the room almost three-hundred years ago when I was still a mage-in-waiting myself. I was approaching the first third of my lifespan, with seven hundred-odd years left to go. I’d hoped that Lillian would be the one to take over my Library - my domain and sanctuary that only few Librarians have access to.
Lillian and I stood opposite one another at the ends of the room. I snapped my fingers together, and the torches instantly grew flames, with bright-red colours spouting from the torches in the room.
“So what do you remember about fireballs?” I asked her.
“A Librarian can conjure a fireball with different properties attached to them.” She responded. I smiled, I was happy she took the time to remember my teachings.
“Yes, and how do we conjure them?”
“One needs a source.” She promptly retorted.
“Yes, like the flame in those torches,” I began, “Take inspiration from that flame, and conjure a fireball for me.”
She did what was told. I could see the immense concentration in her eyes as she looked at the torch beside her. She held out her hand toward its flames, and a fireball sparked in her hands.
“Good! Now, fire it at me!” I exclaimed.
Lillian drew in the flame, and hurled a fist-sized fireball in my direction. I held out my right hand and dispelled the fireball with my overwhelming source.
“How was that?” She asked. I was impressed, she was able to easily conjure an intermediate level spell with no hesitation.
“Very impressive, but still a weak attempt.” I teased.
“You always say that, but you’re like…a thousand years old, of course you’re stronger than me!”
“I am thirty-five decades. If I were a millennia old, I’d be a frail-old, possibly dead, man.”
“Then try this! I came up with it!” She yelled, and began conjuring another fireball. I sensed the next one was different from the last, her hand movements and body language showed something was up. I was deeply interested as I grinned. Lillian hurled her next fireball, but the colour was distinct. A bright-pink flame was tossed at me with immense speed. I held out my hand again and dispelled the sorcery. When the flame disappeared I could feel my fingers curl, I was intrigued.
“Pink? You used emotion and combined it with the fireball. Well-played.” I chuckled.
“You liked that?” She asked.
“It is definitely interesting, the ability to combine emotion into spells can change even the toughest foe’s heart. Well done.” I praised the young apprentice.
“You’ve seen a pink-fireball before?” She asked.
“Not seen, but I have read about them.” I responded.
“Of course you did, you’re the Clerk of the Library, you’ve read everything.”
“Not true, only the texts that have been made available to me.”
She seemed disappointed at my lacklustre response to her hard work. In my honesty, she was more cunning than I was at her age. One could say I had a sense of jealousy towards her.
“I’m sure you have discovered more secrets of sorcery for me.” I said. She nodded complacently.
“I have another, if you’d like to see.” She said.
She conjured another fireball, this time the colour of green lit in her palm. I was thoroughly surprised.
“Ah, you’ve even mastered wind, well done.” I applauded.
The flame in her hand dissipated, she looked somewhat downtrodden at my response.
“Nothing surprises you, not even this?” She asked.
“Do not feel down, I myself cannot combine as many sources as you can. You are remarkable in your ability to use so many sources at your age.” Lillina looked at me and saw that I spoke the truth in my words.
“I have one more to show you.” She said. I lifted my brow as I inspected her body-language. She emitted a sense of deep concentration.
“Show me.”
She held her hands to the torch flame one last time, and began conjuring her spell. But I was blind to her. I could not see the fireball forming in her palm. I had never been so taken aback for words in my entire life as a mage. She aimed her hands in my direction, yet, I could still not see the flame. In an instant, my world was dark.
Before I could come to my senses I heard a voice calling for me.
“Master Jayce? Are you okay? Wake up!” The voice called.
I realised that I was hit with a burning sensation against my face, I instinctively casted the spell of “Mirage” to cleanse the sensation I felt. Then, my vision reappeared. My apprentice Lillian was in view a few metres away from mine. She had a deeply concerned expression as she inspected me. I had realised that her fireball had knocked me unconscious onto the ground.
“Are you okay?” She asked.
I propped myself up from the floor, and analysed my confusion towards what had happened. ‘How could I not see her fireball? It was almost…Invisible?’ I thought. Then, I understood. There was no more intrigue in my thoughts, and I looked at her. I grabbed Lillian by the shoulders as she inspected the bruises on my face.
“Lillian.”
“Y-yes?” She responded.
“Where did you learn that?” I commanded.
“No-where, no books in here spoke of this type of source-”
“Do not lie to me. Where did you learn of this?”
“I’m not lying! I was just in my room, and then something told me I could try hiding my fireball. That’s the truth!” She yelled. I hushed her immediately. She spoke the truth, I detected no deceit in her voice. This was dangerous territory.
“Do not talk loudly, the Library has ears.” I whispered. She nodded in confirmation. I stood up from the floor, thinking of the next logical step. But my mind was muddled with questions.
“Is it bad that I did that?” She asked quietly.
“That…Is a source not transcribed in any text in this Library. It is a new source, one that you have discovered.” I responded. Lillian was agape at the mouth. I knew that she had to be moved, immediately from the confines of the Library.
“Pack your belongings, Lillian.” I spoke as I walked towards the doors of the room.
“What? Why?”
“We must go, your secret may be out already. We must leave the Library before others seek out your source. Now, go. We may be too-late already.”
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Part 1
He regarded himself piece by piece to ensure his countenance composed. In magic, and in guiding the young, the visage of the master must be tended. Without creativity there is no progress, but without control there is calamity. This glass needle-tip is the master's workshop, the site of the most divine and transcendent, mysterious natural science, the rearing of the next generation of magic. A peculiar alchemy, surely, not one so literal as the management of metals, but one that takes similar artful precision. He ran his palms, sweaty from his quick work, down the front of his robes as his mind focused on his face, easing the wrinkles from the corners of his eyes and smoothing the involuntary twist in his face that came unbidden at the disorder of the shop. He righted his tall hat, nearly toppled from the rush of turbulent airs.
Three years, three months, and three days ago, the woods brought him a gift, as per the terms of their agreement. From the night of their contract to the delivery of their promise nearly 20 years passed, but he did not expect quickness of the eternal fae. Sustained as he was by elixer and energy, he was old and older still. Intellectual pursuits could sustain the right mind for lifetimes, but human flesh is human flesh, the human mind the same. Three lifetimes, no, three lifetimes and a half are enough to be alone. The deep wood pressed as heavy on the walls of the cottage, the walls of the tower, as the air upon the dirt and the water upon the floor of the sea. He needed refreshment, and someone to help him deal with the weight. And so he asked the fae, known to pick up strays for their mysterious reasons and to their mysterious ends, and with whom he kept positive mutual relations--as mutual as they could be so that they might stay positive. The contract was made of chanted song, swirling fog, and yarrow dew. They asked to watch the child from their woods, for his favor in return, and for a poem. He knew not why they fulfilled his request so cheaply, but he had taken his precautions. The fae would not sever relations with the wizard lightly; their power, immense and amorphous, could not be easily focused, like the sun under a magnifying lens, as could the wizard's.
He spent the interim years in quiet anticipation, preparing. They brought him Oleander.
She came, heralded by a whippoorwill in the morning. Her mouth was stained by the berries she popped into her mouth even as she looked with wonder at his habiliments. Her own vestments were threadbare relics from her life before the woods. Clearly, the fae did not keep her so long that she forgot human words and bonds. He sensed no trickery. Hazelnut skin and hair, and a bearing of confidence despite her predicament and the grime and tangles that covered her. The whippoorwill hollered three times with tilted head and flitted away through the trees. So long had he studied in these woods, but as the child looked at him the ancient flame of protection and stewardship fanned in his breast.
Three years of study and lesson, chore and play, work and meal, passed, and the wizard felt that time had suddenly accelerated from the slow dilation of his solitude. Oleander jabbered and withdrew and jabbered again, progressed then withdrew then progressed again, and she grew out of clothes faster than he thought to sew more. The sprouts of her magic grew so fast that the tree itself grew malformed and wild. In other times their growth stifled without any seeming correlation to the temperance of their conditions. He spent sleepless nights at his desk, charting her progress and pondering the endless puzzles of growth. It was happy work.
Rarely, the child would present him with some counterfactual to the natural order in which her human faculties developed. She cared for the herbs she learned to cultivate in the cottage garden, and looked to him with respect and affection, as he did to her. Accordance between men, and accordance with the earth: this results, in humans, in a set of predictable behaviors, behaviors that facilitate the felicitous exercise of the sciences and satisfaction of human needs. But one day at the height of summer, the sun madly radiating from the apex of the sky's blue arc, he found her at the edge of the wood, cradling a whippoorwill in her arms. The creature was slain. Her tears fell into the matted blood that congealed around a circular wound, made by a sling. Her sling quietly sat in a heap of leaves some yards away, hardly damaged by her throw. Now, it's no great mystery why a child would test itself by shooting birds with a sling, no mystery why the child would weep when their aim was true. But why this bird? Why this bird, he asked her. She could not answer him. He sighted a mockingjay in the canopy. It sat knowingly, imperiously, but he sensed no hostility. His gaze lingered on the forest as he took her by the shoulder and brought her in for a hearty supper.
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[WP] You have been a wizard for 350 years but your apprentice still surprises you. You laughed at her pink fireball and the green one too. The invisible one suddenly made you much more serious.
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As the apprentice rushed in, the cantankerous old wizard pondered what she'd discovered this time. Last week, it was a fireball... but pink. The week before, it was a *fireball*, only green. It was charming to see someone so excited about discovering magic, even such little details as colour modifications. Though he *would* like it if her presentations stopped being so hyperactive.
"Master!" the young, freckled woman said as she rushed to his side. "I've made the most wonderful discovery in my latest studies. It-"
"A fireball?" the wizard merely sighed back.
"W- well... yes, but I swear even you'll be surprised by this one!" she excitedly insisted.
The old wizard put down his toast, much to his disappointment, and moved his hand slightly. The two then stepped into the newly formed portal into the training grounds before he once again sat down, preparing himself for the newest colour of the impending fireball.
"Ok, so," she said, nervously preparing her hand gestures, "if you'll just... aaand... just a... there!"
With her final word, a whoosh was heard in the air and a target dummy, scorched from many sides from previous tests, had once again exploded in a shower of flame. The young girl jumped up and down, clapping her hands excitedly; her mentor, however, grew quiet and gravely serious.
"What did you do?" he growled.
"A fireball!" she replied happily. "But the colour of *nothing*! An invisible fireball!"
"No," he merely said.
"I'm- I'm sorry master?"
"You can't do that," he said and looked her in the eye, more serious than she'd ever seen him, "You can't *EVER* do that, you hear me girl?"
"But-" she grew flustered and worried, "but it's possible! You just saw! The applications in combat-"
"Are too great! There's-" he yelled but stopped himself, regaining composure. "Sit," he said and pointed at the chair next to him.
She sat meekly, without a word.
"Do you think you're the first one to discover that?!" he said. He found no response, the girl terrified of answering.
"You're not. Not by a long shot. I'd dare say most young mages did at some point. Even the ones that fell to darkness," he said somewhat somberly.
"But... none of them-"
"...had ever used them? There's *rules*, girl! Rules *none* of us break, not even the worst. An invisible fireball would be a spell of possibly unmatched power. But it'd get everyone thinking. 'What else can we make horribly strong?' we'd all think. And then? Invisible monsters, microscopic magic missiles, supersonic telekinesis... and then?" he said, looking into the distance.
She looked at him expectantly, waiting for him to finish. He was lost in thought but she did notice he was rubbing his left hand, the heavy scarring, the missing finger, the- *oh*.
"It goes too far," he uttered. "And it doesn't end well. Never. For anyone." It was a rare moment of weakness for him, not one he was used to. The apprentice looked at her feet.
"I'm- I'm sorry, master. I'm terribly sorry. I will not repeat my mistake- please do not-"
"Clara," he said. It immediately put an end to her apologies. For him to actually call her by her name...
"I don't want you to be sorry," he said softly. "I want you to learn. You're a studious one. Clever, too. You were bound to find things like this eventually. I just need you to know, now that you have, that you must never go down this path. Because if even the worst of us won't..."
"I understand," she said. He looked at her and, given her solemn expression, was convinced that she did. Worse than solemn, he thought. She looked downright downtrodden.
"You know," he said with an unusually optimistic tone, "I used to make all manner of stuff like this too when I was young." He moved his hand again and opened a small portal into his personal chambers, a dusty shelf on the other hand. He reached in and after a little bit of shuffling the ancient books pulled out a yellowed piece of parchment that likely would have fallen apart already had it not been for the magic in it.
He gave her the slightest of smiles and opened it. She followed his every move intently, but could not quite read the incantation - not only was the ink faded, the words were also incredibly dated. He murmured for a moment before striking the air before him and casting a...
A fireball.
It moved slowly, so incredibly slowly that no one would ever be hit by it, but it did allow her to closely look at it. Namely the little feet that wiggled in the air, simulating running and the little hands at the sides.
After several silent moments, the fireball finally reached the training dummy and exploded softly. The fireball with little hands and feet that looked like it was running.
And she laughed.
She could not help it - it was partly genuine laughter at the preposterous spell, partly her letting out the anxiety and fear she had felt thus far. Whatever the reason, she laughed, uproariously.
And then, to her surprise, so did he.
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Part 1
He regarded himself piece by piece to ensure his countenance composed. In magic, and in guiding the young, the visage of the master must be tended. Without creativity there is no progress, but without control there is calamity. This glass needle-tip is the master's workshop, the site of the most divine and transcendent, mysterious natural science, the rearing of the next generation of magic. A peculiar alchemy, surely, not one so literal as the management of metals, but one that takes similar artful precision. He ran his palms, sweaty from his quick work, down the front of his robes as his mind focused on his face, easing the wrinkles from the corners of his eyes and smoothing the involuntary twist in his face that came unbidden at the disorder of the shop. He righted his tall hat, nearly toppled from the rush of turbulent airs.
Three years, three months, and three days ago, the woods brought him a gift, as per the terms of their agreement. From the night of their contract to the delivery of their promise nearly 20 years passed, but he did not expect quickness of the eternal fae. Sustained as he was by elixer and energy, he was old and older still. Intellectual pursuits could sustain the right mind for lifetimes, but human flesh is human flesh, the human mind the same. Three lifetimes, no, three lifetimes and a half are enough to be alone. The deep wood pressed as heavy on the walls of the cottage, the walls of the tower, as the air upon the dirt and the water upon the floor of the sea. He needed refreshment, and someone to help him deal with the weight. And so he asked the fae, known to pick up strays for their mysterious reasons and to their mysterious ends, and with whom he kept positive mutual relations--as mutual as they could be so that they might stay positive. The contract was made of chanted song, swirling fog, and yarrow dew. They asked to watch the child from their woods, for his favor in return, and for a poem. He knew not why they fulfilled his request so cheaply, but he had taken his precautions. The fae would not sever relations with the wizard lightly; their power, immense and amorphous, could not be easily focused, like the sun under a magnifying lens, as could the wizard's.
He spent the interim years in quiet anticipation, preparing. They brought him Oleander.
She came, heralded by a whippoorwill in the morning. Her mouth was stained by the berries she popped into her mouth even as she looked with wonder at his habiliments. Her own vestments were threadbare relics from her life before the woods. Clearly, the fae did not keep her so long that she forgot human words and bonds. He sensed no trickery. Hazelnut skin and hair, and a bearing of confidence despite her predicament and the grime and tangles that covered her. The whippoorwill hollered three times with tilted head and flitted away through the trees. So long had he studied in these woods, but as the child looked at him the ancient flame of protection and stewardship fanned in his breast.
Three years of study and lesson, chore and play, work and meal, passed, and the wizard felt that time had suddenly accelerated from the slow dilation of his solitude. Oleander jabbered and withdrew and jabbered again, progressed then withdrew then progressed again, and she grew out of clothes faster than he thought to sew more. The sprouts of her magic grew so fast that the tree itself grew malformed and wild. In other times their growth stifled without any seeming correlation to the temperance of their conditions. He spent sleepless nights at his desk, charting her progress and pondering the endless puzzles of growth. It was happy work.
Rarely, the child would present him with some counterfactual to the natural order in which her human faculties developed. She cared for the herbs she learned to cultivate in the cottage garden, and looked to him with respect and affection, as he did to her. Accordance between men, and accordance with the earth: this results, in humans, in a set of predictable behaviors, behaviors that facilitate the felicitous exercise of the sciences and satisfaction of human needs. But one day at the height of summer, the sun madly radiating from the apex of the sky's blue arc, he found her at the edge of the wood, cradling a whippoorwill in her arms. The creature was slain. Her tears fell into the matted blood that congealed around a circular wound, made by a sling. Her sling quietly sat in a heap of leaves some yards away, hardly damaged by her throw. Now, it's no great mystery why a child would test itself by shooting birds with a sling, no mystery why the child would weep when their aim was true. But why this bird? Why this bird, he asked her. She could not answer him. He sighted a mockingjay in the canopy. It sat knowingly, imperiously, but he sensed no hostility. His gaze lingered on the forest as he took her by the shoulder and brought her in for a hearty supper.
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[WP] You have been a wizard for 350 years but your apprentice still surprises you. You laughed at her pink fireball and the green one too. The invisible one suddenly made you much more serious.
|
“Show me what you’ve learnt, Lillian.” I said.
“I think you’ll be surprised to see what I’ve developed!” She exclaimed.
“You never fail to get me to chuckle.” I snickered, twiddling my thumbs as i awaited to see her showcase.
Lillian was my second apprentice, but she was an avid and quick-learning student. She was approaching her third year under my tutelage. I recalled the first time I met her - a small-orphaned girl on the side of the road. Her fifteenth birthday was quickly approaching, I had thought about what gift would be most appropriate for her coming-of-age ceremony.
“Come, follow me into the training quarters.” I spoke. She followed obediently but with a pep in her step.
The darkly-lit training room was vast inside.The large six sided walls I built were to keep the destruction of any magic to a minimum inside. I had created the room almost three-hundred years ago when I was still a mage-in-waiting myself. I was approaching the first third of my lifespan, with seven hundred-odd years left to go. I’d hoped that Lillian would be the one to take over my Library - my domain and sanctuary that only few Librarians have access to.
Lillian and I stood opposite one another at the ends of the room. I snapped my fingers together, and the torches instantly grew flames, with bright-red colours spouting from the torches in the room.
“So what do you remember about fireballs?” I asked her.
“A Librarian can conjure a fireball with different properties attached to them.” She responded. I smiled, I was happy she took the time to remember my teachings.
“Yes, and how do we conjure them?”
“One needs a source.” She promptly retorted.
“Yes, like the flame in those torches,” I began, “Take inspiration from that flame, and conjure a fireball for me.”
She did what was told. I could see the immense concentration in her eyes as she looked at the torch beside her. She held out her hand toward its flames, and a fireball sparked in her hands.
“Good! Now, fire it at me!” I exclaimed.
Lillian drew in the flame, and hurled a fist-sized fireball in my direction. I held out my right hand and dispelled the fireball with my overwhelming source.
“How was that?” She asked. I was impressed, she was able to easily conjure an intermediate level spell with no hesitation.
“Very impressive, but still a weak attempt.” I teased.
“You always say that, but you’re like…a thousand years old, of course you’re stronger than me!”
“I am thirty-five decades. If I were a millennia old, I’d be a frail-old, possibly dead, man.”
“Then try this! I came up with it!” She yelled, and began conjuring another fireball. I sensed the next one was different from the last, her hand movements and body language showed something was up. I was deeply interested as I grinned. Lillian hurled her next fireball, but the colour was distinct. A bright-pink flame was tossed at me with immense speed. I held out my hand again and dispelled the sorcery. When the flame disappeared I could feel my fingers curl, I was intrigued.
“Pink? You used emotion and combined it with the fireball. Well-played.” I chuckled.
“You liked that?” She asked.
“It is definitely interesting, the ability to combine emotion into spells can change even the toughest foe’s heart. Well done.” I praised the young apprentice.
“You’ve seen a pink-fireball before?” She asked.
“Not seen, but I have read about them.” I responded.
“Of course you did, you’re the Clerk of the Library, you’ve read everything.”
“Not true, only the texts that have been made available to me.”
She seemed disappointed at my lacklustre response to her hard work. In my honesty, she was more cunning than I was at her age. One could say I had a sense of jealousy towards her.
“I’m sure you have discovered more secrets of sorcery for me.” I said. She nodded complacently.
“I have another, if you’d like to see.” She said.
She conjured another fireball, this time the colour of green lit in her palm. I was thoroughly surprised.
“Ah, you’ve even mastered wind, well done.” I applauded.
The flame in her hand dissipated, she looked somewhat downtrodden at my response.
“Nothing surprises you, not even this?” She asked.
“Do not feel down, I myself cannot combine as many sources as you can. You are remarkable in your ability to use so many sources at your age.” Lillina looked at me and saw that I spoke the truth in my words.
“I have one more to show you.” She said. I lifted my brow as I inspected her body-language. She emitted a sense of deep concentration.
“Show me.”
She held her hands to the torch flame one last time, and began conjuring her spell. But I was blind to her. I could not see the fireball forming in her palm. I had never been so taken aback for words in my entire life as a mage. She aimed her hands in my direction, yet, I could still not see the flame. In an instant, my world was dark.
Before I could come to my senses I heard a voice calling for me.
“Master Jayce? Are you okay? Wake up!” The voice called.
I realised that I was hit with a burning sensation against my face, I instinctively casted the spell of “Mirage” to cleanse the sensation I felt. Then, my vision reappeared. My apprentice Lillian was in view a few metres away from mine. She had a deeply concerned expression as she inspected me. I had realised that her fireball had knocked me unconscious onto the ground.
“Are you okay?” She asked.
I propped myself up from the floor, and analysed my confusion towards what had happened. ‘How could I not see her fireball? It was almost…Invisible?’ I thought. Then, I understood. There was no more intrigue in my thoughts, and I looked at her. I grabbed Lillian by the shoulders as she inspected the bruises on my face.
“Lillian.”
“Y-yes?” She responded.
“Where did you learn that?” I commanded.
“No-where, no books in here spoke of this type of source-”
“Do not lie to me. Where did you learn of this?”
“I’m not lying! I was just in my room, and then something told me I could try hiding my fireball. That’s the truth!” She yelled. I hushed her immediately. She spoke the truth, I detected no deceit in her voice. This was dangerous territory.
“Do not talk loudly, the Library has ears.” I whispered. She nodded in confirmation. I stood up from the floor, thinking of the next logical step. But my mind was muddled with questions.
“Is it bad that I did that?” She asked quietly.
“That…Is a source not transcribed in any text in this Library. It is a new source, one that you have discovered.” I responded. Lillian was agape at the mouth. I knew that she had to be moved, immediately from the confines of the Library.
“Pack your belongings, Lillian.” I spoke as I walked towards the doors of the room.
“What? Why?”
“We must go, your secret may be out already. We must leave the Library before others seek out your source. Now, go. We may be too-late already.”
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\[Stellar Potential\]
"That's good! Very good!" the old magus smiled encouragement at his teenage apprentice. She had just released a perfect red-orange fireball. They stood outside in the courtyard of his tower. One of the test targets smoldered from the impact; but, she didn't seem as pleased with it as he was.
"Yeah, I can make that work," she mumbled to herself. "But it needs more color. " The teen flicked her wrist upward, then she placed her hands on the empty air in front of her and began wiggling her fingers. The magus had no idea what she was up to. He was willing to let her indulge her quirks throughout the training, but he wanted to formalize her apprenticeship as soon as possible. She was obviously very gifted with magic and he was eager to shape that natural talent.
She was the first apprentice he could remember that didn't struggle with a basic fireball spell. She was able to cast it the moment she learned it as if she had simply slotted the knowledge into her mind.
"Let's discuss the terms of your, -" she ignored the magus and interrupted him with her own thoughts.
"This one?..." her finger stopped dancing and she raised a hand at the enchanted test targets. The one she ignited had already reset itself and was ready to take another blast.
A bright pink fireball shot out of her hand. It sped to the target and exploded into shiny pink and gold sparkles. Pink flames consumed the straw target and it released golden wisps of smoke.
"Oooh!" she grinned. "That's a definite maybe. What about this one?" She was talking to herself and the magus was torn between being curious about the pink fireball and getting frustrated at being ignored.
"How did you,-" his curiosity won out. But, the magus was interrupted again when a neon-green fireball shot from her hand. It exploded with green and silver sparkles on impact and consumed the target with green flames.
"Nah, I like the pink one better," she looked down at the empty air, then tilted her head. "Invisible? How does that work?"
"Apprentice!" the magus raised his voice. "We must discuss your future," he looked down at her expecting to have her attention. He did not.
She kept her focus forward and raised her hand. The magus heard the sudden 'woosh' of air igniting. He instinctively looked at the target a saw it enveloped in thick black smoke as an unseen force devoured it.
"Nah, I think I'll keep the pink one for now,..." she touched empty air again. The magus' frustration peaked. If he was going to get her attention, he needed to show her how much more there was to learn.
"APPRENTICE!" the magus roared. Lightning struck the ground next to him and he grabbed the bolt of electricity to hold it in place. "You will give me your attention now." He was glad to see she did look up at him. Her eyes were wide with awe. He continued. "If you ever wish to use ancient, powerful magics like this, you must… what are you doing?"
The magus held her attention for a full moment before she reached forward and touched the lightning bolt trapped in his grip. He expected her to violently regret the action, but instead, she sighed.
"I can't learn that one," she shook her head.
"Of course, you can," the magus smiled. "You obviously have a great talent for magic. You merely need the proper guidance…," finally, he was able to get the conversation on track. I currently have no other apprentices, so I'm sure we can come up with a schedule that suits y-"
"No thanks," she shook her head to interrupt him again. Fireball is the only thing I can learn from you," she said. She loosed another bright pink fireball on the target as if to prove how well she learned it. Then, she nodded to herself and made a dismissive gesture at the empty air.
"You're content learning the bare minimum?" The magus decided to try another tact. "What kind of lazy, good-for-nothing wizard are you hoping to become?" she grinned and giggled at him.
"Who says I'm a wizard?" she asked.
"What?" the magus asked. "How did you learn the spell? WHY did you learn it??" All the unresolved frustration of being ignored only made it harder to think clearly. He was simply asking questions as they came to mind.
"Learning it was easy," she smirked and nodded at him. "I just had to talk to a wizard trainer. As for why…," she snapped her fingers and a plume of pink smoke erupted around her. When it cleared, her entire outfit had changed. She now wore a dark violet, nearly black hood that covered her forehead, nose, and mouth. The rest of her was now wrapped in the same silky dark cloth.
"It's one of the very few Wizard skills that Ninjas can learn. Bye," another pink plume of smoke erupted. She was gone when it cleared.
\*\*\*
Thank you for reading! I’m responding to prompts every day. This is story #1717 in a row. (Story #271 in year five.). This story is part of an ongoing saga that takes place at a high school in my universe. It began on August 22nd and I will be adding to it with prompts every day until May 26th. They are all collected in order at [this link](https://www.reddit.com/r/Hugoverse/comments/wtglls/tokuhigh_alternet_class/).
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[WP] You have been a wizard for 350 years but your apprentice still surprises you. You laughed at her pink fireball and the green one too. The invisible one suddenly made you much more serious.
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As the apprentice rushed in, the cantankerous old wizard pondered what she'd discovered this time. Last week, it was a fireball... but pink. The week before, it was a *fireball*, only green. It was charming to see someone so excited about discovering magic, even such little details as colour modifications. Though he *would* like it if her presentations stopped being so hyperactive.
"Master!" the young, freckled woman said as she rushed to his side. "I've made the most wonderful discovery in my latest studies. It-"
"A fireball?" the wizard merely sighed back.
"W- well... yes, but I swear even you'll be surprised by this one!" she excitedly insisted.
The old wizard put down his toast, much to his disappointment, and moved his hand slightly. The two then stepped into the newly formed portal into the training grounds before he once again sat down, preparing himself for the newest colour of the impending fireball.
"Ok, so," she said, nervously preparing her hand gestures, "if you'll just... aaand... just a... there!"
With her final word, a whoosh was heard in the air and a target dummy, scorched from many sides from previous tests, had once again exploded in a shower of flame. The young girl jumped up and down, clapping her hands excitedly; her mentor, however, grew quiet and gravely serious.
"What did you do?" he growled.
"A fireball!" she replied happily. "But the colour of *nothing*! An invisible fireball!"
"No," he merely said.
"I'm- I'm sorry master?"
"You can't do that," he said and looked her in the eye, more serious than she'd ever seen him, "You can't *EVER* do that, you hear me girl?"
"But-" she grew flustered and worried, "but it's possible! You just saw! The applications in combat-"
"Are too great! There's-" he yelled but stopped himself, regaining composure. "Sit," he said and pointed at the chair next to him.
She sat meekly, without a word.
"Do you think you're the first one to discover that?!" he said. He found no response, the girl terrified of answering.
"You're not. Not by a long shot. I'd dare say most young mages did at some point. Even the ones that fell to darkness," he said somewhat somberly.
"But... none of them-"
"...had ever used them? There's *rules*, girl! Rules *none* of us break, not even the worst. An invisible fireball would be a spell of possibly unmatched power. But it'd get everyone thinking. 'What else can we make horribly strong?' we'd all think. And then? Invisible monsters, microscopic magic missiles, supersonic telekinesis... and then?" he said, looking into the distance.
She looked at him expectantly, waiting for him to finish. He was lost in thought but she did notice he was rubbing his left hand, the heavy scarring, the missing finger, the- *oh*.
"It goes too far," he uttered. "And it doesn't end well. Never. For anyone." It was a rare moment of weakness for him, not one he was used to. The apprentice looked at her feet.
"I'm- I'm sorry, master. I'm terribly sorry. I will not repeat my mistake- please do not-"
"Clara," he said. It immediately put an end to her apologies. For him to actually call her by her name...
"I don't want you to be sorry," he said softly. "I want you to learn. You're a studious one. Clever, too. You were bound to find things like this eventually. I just need you to know, now that you have, that you must never go down this path. Because if even the worst of us won't..."
"I understand," she said. He looked at her and, given her solemn expression, was convinced that she did. Worse than solemn, he thought. She looked downright downtrodden.
"You know," he said with an unusually optimistic tone, "I used to make all manner of stuff like this too when I was young." He moved his hand again and opened a small portal into his personal chambers, a dusty shelf on the other hand. He reached in and after a little bit of shuffling the ancient books pulled out a yellowed piece of parchment that likely would have fallen apart already had it not been for the magic in it.
He gave her the slightest of smiles and opened it. She followed his every move intently, but could not quite read the incantation - not only was the ink faded, the words were also incredibly dated. He murmured for a moment before striking the air before him and casting a...
A fireball.
It moved slowly, so incredibly slowly that no one would ever be hit by it, but it did allow her to closely look at it. Namely the little feet that wiggled in the air, simulating running and the little hands at the sides.
After several silent moments, the fireball finally reached the training dummy and exploded softly. The fireball with little hands and feet that looked like it was running.
And she laughed.
She could not help it - it was partly genuine laughter at the preposterous spell, partly her letting out the anxiety and fear she had felt thus far. Whatever the reason, she laughed, uproariously.
And then, to her surprise, so did he.
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\[Stellar Potential\]
"That's good! Very good!" the old magus smiled encouragement at his teenage apprentice. She had just released a perfect red-orange fireball. They stood outside in the courtyard of his tower. One of the test targets smoldered from the impact; but, she didn't seem as pleased with it as he was.
"Yeah, I can make that work," she mumbled to herself. "But it needs more color. " The teen flicked her wrist upward, then she placed her hands on the empty air in front of her and began wiggling her fingers. The magus had no idea what she was up to. He was willing to let her indulge her quirks throughout the training, but he wanted to formalize her apprenticeship as soon as possible. She was obviously very gifted with magic and he was eager to shape that natural talent.
She was the first apprentice he could remember that didn't struggle with a basic fireball spell. She was able to cast it the moment she learned it as if she had simply slotted the knowledge into her mind.
"Let's discuss the terms of your, -" she ignored the magus and interrupted him with her own thoughts.
"This one?..." her finger stopped dancing and she raised a hand at the enchanted test targets. The one she ignited had already reset itself and was ready to take another blast.
A bright pink fireball shot out of her hand. It sped to the target and exploded into shiny pink and gold sparkles. Pink flames consumed the straw target and it released golden wisps of smoke.
"Oooh!" she grinned. "That's a definite maybe. What about this one?" She was talking to herself and the magus was torn between being curious about the pink fireball and getting frustrated at being ignored.
"How did you,-" his curiosity won out. But, the magus was interrupted again when a neon-green fireball shot from her hand. It exploded with green and silver sparkles on impact and consumed the target with green flames.
"Nah, I like the pink one better," she looked down at the empty air, then tilted her head. "Invisible? How does that work?"
"Apprentice!" the magus raised his voice. "We must discuss your future," he looked down at her expecting to have her attention. He did not.
She kept her focus forward and raised her hand. The magus heard the sudden 'woosh' of air igniting. He instinctively looked at the target a saw it enveloped in thick black smoke as an unseen force devoured it.
"Nah, I think I'll keep the pink one for now,..." she touched empty air again. The magus' frustration peaked. If he was going to get her attention, he needed to show her how much more there was to learn.
"APPRENTICE!" the magus roared. Lightning struck the ground next to him and he grabbed the bolt of electricity to hold it in place. "You will give me your attention now." He was glad to see she did look up at him. Her eyes were wide with awe. He continued. "If you ever wish to use ancient, powerful magics like this, you must… what are you doing?"
The magus held her attention for a full moment before she reached forward and touched the lightning bolt trapped in his grip. He expected her to violently regret the action, but instead, she sighed.
"I can't learn that one," she shook her head.
"Of course, you can," the magus smiled. "You obviously have a great talent for magic. You merely need the proper guidance…," finally, he was able to get the conversation on track. I currently have no other apprentices, so I'm sure we can come up with a schedule that suits y-"
"No thanks," she shook her head to interrupt him again. Fireball is the only thing I can learn from you," she said. She loosed another bright pink fireball on the target as if to prove how well she learned it. Then, she nodded to herself and made a dismissive gesture at the empty air.
"You're content learning the bare minimum?" The magus decided to try another tact. "What kind of lazy, good-for-nothing wizard are you hoping to become?" she grinned and giggled at him.
"Who says I'm a wizard?" she asked.
"What?" the magus asked. "How did you learn the spell? WHY did you learn it??" All the unresolved frustration of being ignored only made it harder to think clearly. He was simply asking questions as they came to mind.
"Learning it was easy," she smirked and nodded at him. "I just had to talk to a wizard trainer. As for why…," she snapped her fingers and a plume of pink smoke erupted around her. When it cleared, her entire outfit had changed. She now wore a dark violet, nearly black hood that covered her forehead, nose, and mouth. The rest of her was now wrapped in the same silky dark cloth.
"It's one of the very few Wizard skills that Ninjas can learn. Bye," another pink plume of smoke erupted. She was gone when it cleared.
\*\*\*
Thank you for reading! I’m responding to prompts every day. This is story #1717 in a row. (Story #271 in year five.). This story is part of an ongoing saga that takes place at a high school in my universe. It began on August 22nd and I will be adding to it with prompts every day until May 26th. They are all collected in order at [this link](https://www.reddit.com/r/Hugoverse/comments/wtglls/tokuhigh_alternet_class/).
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[WP] You have been a wizard for 350 years but your apprentice still surprises you. You laughed at her pink fireball and the green one too. The invisible one suddenly made you much more serious.
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As the apprentice rushed in, the cantankerous old wizard pondered what she'd discovered this time. Last week, it was a fireball... but pink. The week before, it was a *fireball*, only green. It was charming to see someone so excited about discovering magic, even such little details as colour modifications. Though he *would* like it if her presentations stopped being so hyperactive.
"Master!" the young, freckled woman said as she rushed to his side. "I've made the most wonderful discovery in my latest studies. It-"
"A fireball?" the wizard merely sighed back.
"W- well... yes, but I swear even you'll be surprised by this one!" she excitedly insisted.
The old wizard put down his toast, much to his disappointment, and moved his hand slightly. The two then stepped into the newly formed portal into the training grounds before he once again sat down, preparing himself for the newest colour of the impending fireball.
"Ok, so," she said, nervously preparing her hand gestures, "if you'll just... aaand... just a... there!"
With her final word, a whoosh was heard in the air and a target dummy, scorched from many sides from previous tests, had once again exploded in a shower of flame. The young girl jumped up and down, clapping her hands excitedly; her mentor, however, grew quiet and gravely serious.
"What did you do?" he growled.
"A fireball!" she replied happily. "But the colour of *nothing*! An invisible fireball!"
"No," he merely said.
"I'm- I'm sorry master?"
"You can't do that," he said and looked her in the eye, more serious than she'd ever seen him, "You can't *EVER* do that, you hear me girl?"
"But-" she grew flustered and worried, "but it's possible! You just saw! The applications in combat-"
"Are too great! There's-" he yelled but stopped himself, regaining composure. "Sit," he said and pointed at the chair next to him.
She sat meekly, without a word.
"Do you think you're the first one to discover that?!" he said. He found no response, the girl terrified of answering.
"You're not. Not by a long shot. I'd dare say most young mages did at some point. Even the ones that fell to darkness," he said somewhat somberly.
"But... none of them-"
"...had ever used them? There's *rules*, girl! Rules *none* of us break, not even the worst. An invisible fireball would be a spell of possibly unmatched power. But it'd get everyone thinking. 'What else can we make horribly strong?' we'd all think. And then? Invisible monsters, microscopic magic missiles, supersonic telekinesis... and then?" he said, looking into the distance.
She looked at him expectantly, waiting for him to finish. He was lost in thought but she did notice he was rubbing his left hand, the heavy scarring, the missing finger, the- *oh*.
"It goes too far," he uttered. "And it doesn't end well. Never. For anyone." It was a rare moment of weakness for him, not one he was used to. The apprentice looked at her feet.
"I'm- I'm sorry, master. I'm terribly sorry. I will not repeat my mistake- please do not-"
"Clara," he said. It immediately put an end to her apologies. For him to actually call her by her name...
"I don't want you to be sorry," he said softly. "I want you to learn. You're a studious one. Clever, too. You were bound to find things like this eventually. I just need you to know, now that you have, that you must never go down this path. Because if even the worst of us won't..."
"I understand," she said. He looked at her and, given her solemn expression, was convinced that she did. Worse than solemn, he thought. She looked downright downtrodden.
"You know," he said with an unusually optimistic tone, "I used to make all manner of stuff like this too when I was young." He moved his hand again and opened a small portal into his personal chambers, a dusty shelf on the other hand. He reached in and after a little bit of shuffling the ancient books pulled out a yellowed piece of parchment that likely would have fallen apart already had it not been for the magic in it.
He gave her the slightest of smiles and opened it. She followed his every move intently, but could not quite read the incantation - not only was the ink faded, the words were also incredibly dated. He murmured for a moment before striking the air before him and casting a...
A fireball.
It moved slowly, so incredibly slowly that no one would ever be hit by it, but it did allow her to closely look at it. Namely the little feet that wiggled in the air, simulating running and the little hands at the sides.
After several silent moments, the fireball finally reached the training dummy and exploded softly. The fireball with little hands and feet that looked like it was running.
And she laughed.
She could not help it - it was partly genuine laughter at the preposterous spell, partly her letting out the anxiety and fear she had felt thus far. Whatever the reason, she laughed, uproariously.
And then, to her surprise, so did he.
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“Show me what you’ve learnt, Lillian.” I said.
“I think you’ll be surprised to see what I’ve developed!” She exclaimed.
“You never fail to get me to chuckle.” I snickered, twiddling my thumbs as i awaited to see her showcase.
Lillian was my second apprentice, but she was an avid and quick-learning student. She was approaching her third year under my tutelage. I recalled the first time I met her - a small-orphaned girl on the side of the road. Her fifteenth birthday was quickly approaching, I had thought about what gift would be most appropriate for her coming-of-age ceremony.
“Come, follow me into the training quarters.” I spoke. She followed obediently but with a pep in her step.
The darkly-lit training room was vast inside.The large six sided walls I built were to keep the destruction of any magic to a minimum inside. I had created the room almost three-hundred years ago when I was still a mage-in-waiting myself. I was approaching the first third of my lifespan, with seven hundred-odd years left to go. I’d hoped that Lillian would be the one to take over my Library - my domain and sanctuary that only few Librarians have access to.
Lillian and I stood opposite one another at the ends of the room. I snapped my fingers together, and the torches instantly grew flames, with bright-red colours spouting from the torches in the room.
“So what do you remember about fireballs?” I asked her.
“A Librarian can conjure a fireball with different properties attached to them.” She responded. I smiled, I was happy she took the time to remember my teachings.
“Yes, and how do we conjure them?”
“One needs a source.” She promptly retorted.
“Yes, like the flame in those torches,” I began, “Take inspiration from that flame, and conjure a fireball for me.”
She did what was told. I could see the immense concentration in her eyes as she looked at the torch beside her. She held out her hand toward its flames, and a fireball sparked in her hands.
“Good! Now, fire it at me!” I exclaimed.
Lillian drew in the flame, and hurled a fist-sized fireball in my direction. I held out my right hand and dispelled the fireball with my overwhelming source.
“How was that?” She asked. I was impressed, she was able to easily conjure an intermediate level spell with no hesitation.
“Very impressive, but still a weak attempt.” I teased.
“You always say that, but you’re like…a thousand years old, of course you’re stronger than me!”
“I am thirty-five decades. If I were a millennia old, I’d be a frail-old, possibly dead, man.”
“Then try this! I came up with it!” She yelled, and began conjuring another fireball. I sensed the next one was different from the last, her hand movements and body language showed something was up. I was deeply interested as I grinned. Lillian hurled her next fireball, but the colour was distinct. A bright-pink flame was tossed at me with immense speed. I held out my hand again and dispelled the sorcery. When the flame disappeared I could feel my fingers curl, I was intrigued.
“Pink? You used emotion and combined it with the fireball. Well-played.” I chuckled.
“You liked that?” She asked.
“It is definitely interesting, the ability to combine emotion into spells can change even the toughest foe’s heart. Well done.” I praised the young apprentice.
“You’ve seen a pink-fireball before?” She asked.
“Not seen, but I have read about them.” I responded.
“Of course you did, you’re the Clerk of the Library, you’ve read everything.”
“Not true, only the texts that have been made available to me.”
She seemed disappointed at my lacklustre response to her hard work. In my honesty, she was more cunning than I was at her age. One could say I had a sense of jealousy towards her.
“I’m sure you have discovered more secrets of sorcery for me.” I said. She nodded complacently.
“I have another, if you’d like to see.” She said.
She conjured another fireball, this time the colour of green lit in her palm. I was thoroughly surprised.
“Ah, you’ve even mastered wind, well done.” I applauded.
The flame in her hand dissipated, she looked somewhat downtrodden at my response.
“Nothing surprises you, not even this?” She asked.
“Do not feel down, I myself cannot combine as many sources as you can. You are remarkable in your ability to use so many sources at your age.” Lillina looked at me and saw that I spoke the truth in my words.
“I have one more to show you.” She said. I lifted my brow as I inspected her body-language. She emitted a sense of deep concentration.
“Show me.”
She held her hands to the torch flame one last time, and began conjuring her spell. But I was blind to her. I could not see the fireball forming in her palm. I had never been so taken aback for words in my entire life as a mage. She aimed her hands in my direction, yet, I could still not see the flame. In an instant, my world was dark.
Before I could come to my senses I heard a voice calling for me.
“Master Jayce? Are you okay? Wake up!” The voice called.
I realised that I was hit with a burning sensation against my face, I instinctively casted the spell of “Mirage” to cleanse the sensation I felt. Then, my vision reappeared. My apprentice Lillian was in view a few metres away from mine. She had a deeply concerned expression as she inspected me. I had realised that her fireball had knocked me unconscious onto the ground.
“Are you okay?” She asked.
I propped myself up from the floor, and analysed my confusion towards what had happened. ‘How could I not see her fireball? It was almost…Invisible?’ I thought. Then, I understood. There was no more intrigue in my thoughts, and I looked at her. I grabbed Lillian by the shoulders as she inspected the bruises on my face.
“Lillian.”
“Y-yes?” She responded.
“Where did you learn that?” I commanded.
“No-where, no books in here spoke of this type of source-”
“Do not lie to me. Where did you learn of this?”
“I’m not lying! I was just in my room, and then something told me I could try hiding my fireball. That’s the truth!” She yelled. I hushed her immediately. She spoke the truth, I detected no deceit in her voice. This was dangerous territory.
“Do not talk loudly, the Library has ears.” I whispered. She nodded in confirmation. I stood up from the floor, thinking of the next logical step. But my mind was muddled with questions.
“Is it bad that I did that?” She asked quietly.
“That…Is a source not transcribed in any text in this Library. It is a new source, one that you have discovered.” I responded. Lillian was agape at the mouth. I knew that she had to be moved, immediately from the confines of the Library.
“Pack your belongings, Lillian.” I spoke as I walked towards the doors of the room.
“What? Why?”
“We must go, your secret may be out already. We must leave the Library before others seek out your source. Now, go. We may be too-late already.”
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[WP] You have been a wizard for 350 years but your apprentice still surprises you. You laughed at her pink fireball and the green one too. The invisible one suddenly made you much more serious.
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#####**On the Study of Fires and Balls.**
___
&nbsp;
**Riiiiing.**
Blasted thing, where did I put it? It took me 3 minutes and 2 missed calls to finally locate the source of the insufferable noise. I fished the plastic rectangle my apprentice had given me from behind the sofa and tapped the vibrating surface. I didn't understand why she couldn't just use a simple *sending* spell, you didn't have to deal with this *reception* nonsense or memorize useless strings of numbers.
How the hell did this thing work anyway? Was I supposed to put it in my mouth so my words would pass over it? Must be quite uncomfortable talking like that. I elected to push it against my throat and hoped for the best. "Hello?"
"Professor, you there?"
Sigh. My apprentice used to call me *Master* Volidas before she attended that fancy school, Sand Board or something. Funny name for a institution that. Everything had changed when she returned. Perhaps it wasn't such a good idea to send her there after all, it was supposed to broaden her horizons and give her experience. Now, every other word that came out of her mouth was incomprehensible, words like *electromagnetic* or *modulation* or *wifi.* Some of those words were imaginary I'm sure, like that last one.
"Yes Elysandre, what is it?"
There was a pause on the line, "Why do you sound so muffled? Anyway, come over. I have something to show you. I've already sent an Uber to pick you up. It should be arriving any minute now."
"No need, I can fly on my own. Send the poor animal back, I'm not old enough to need a familiar to carry me just yet, I'm only 362 this year."
"No no, an *Uber* not a cougar, professor. It's a type of transport where you-"
I cut her off. "Sounds complicated. I'll see you in 10 minutes."
&nbsp;
Forty minutes later, I knocked on the front door of her office.
> *Eliza "Elysandre" Fotia, Thaumaturgical Engineer*
"What took you so long? You only live 5 minutes away." My apprentice opened the door with a slight frown, but motioned for me to follow her inside to the lab.
"Had to avoid all those damn sky ropes. What the hell are they even there for? I touched one to see what would happen, and a jolt of electricity strong enough to knock out an elephant surged through me."
"You… touched a high voltage line?" She stopped to examine the state of my clothes (now a little charred from the experience), concluded that I was otherwise fine, and continued to lead me downstairs.
"So, what was it that you wanted to show me?" I knew she had been working on a project for the past month, but she wouldn't give me any details. I was a little excited to finally learn what it was she was so fervently toiling on.
Elysandre pointed at a gigantic metallic ball with two protrusions on each side. A 3 meter wooden rod was attached to the end of the left appendage and a book was glued upside down on the right. "Meet my son, Ellis MK II," she said proudly.
"I fail to understand how you gave birth to an iron sphere, Student." I scratched my chin and examined the thing. "Or how it could have possibly passed your—"
She laughed, "It's a figure of speech. I meant that he's *like* a son because I created him." The young woman tilted her head as if contemplating a sudden thought, "Has anyone ever told you that you take things too literally?"
"Part of the profession, Elysandre. Magic is all about literal interpretation of concepts." This was wizardry 101, I was surprised she was asking such a fundamental question.
"When's the last time you had a check up, have you ever thought about getting screened for autism?"
"Wizards are all peculiar, I don't need a professional to tell me I'm afflicted with oddism. Anyway, what's your son do?"
Elysandre smiled, "He casts *special* fireballs. I'd like to pit them against you."
"Prescribed glyphs of warding? Silly of you to spend weeks welding together a metal scarecrow when a straw one would've sufficed."
"Heh, you're in for a surprise. MK II *doesn't* have any glyphs on him. I supplied the necessary biochemical fuel and firmware, but he himself acts as the thaumaturgical source. It took me a *long* time to get the control algorithm just right, ended up using PWM to simulate EEG readings. It's not perfect, and it requires human conceptual spell instruments, but it works."
I nodded along. "Yep. Makes sense." Mhm, total nonsense.
"HA! I knew you would understand!" She beamed like the little child she was, "Okay, just stand right there and let me know when you're ready. He's going to shoot three fireballs in quick succession."
I stood in the indicated circle and cast a simple mana shield. "Go ahead."
The first was a green fireball. Odd but not particularly powerful. I had never seen green fire before, but some dragons were said to be able to produce it. This would be useful for my own experiments. The bright ball puffed against the shimmering barrier and dissipated harmlessly. I inscribed the image into my mnemonic spellbook.
"One."
The second was a *pink* fireball. Odder still. I suppose if red fire was natural and *white* fire was produced in rare instances of explosive power, a *pink* fire could theoretically be made by tittering on the edge of both, but I had never heard of it happening before. How the hell had my student created pink fire? This little ball bumped against my wall with a bit more strength but also dissipated.
"Two."
I waited. Nothing happened for sometime. Wasn't there supposed to be three? "Elysandre, didn't you say—"
***BOOM***
My shield shattered and the force of the final fireball threw me against the wall. I hadn't even seen it coming and I had been staring at MK II the entire time.
"Three." My apprenticed stepped into the test chamber and helped me to my feet with a smile. "So, what did you think?"
"How... did you create an invisible fireball?" I was astounded. This was revolutionary.
"Technically, it's not invisible. It's just a really clean fireball, tampered to release ultraviolet radiation. You see, fire is simply hot gas and plasma, excitation of fuel during combustion. A fireball just a thrown mass of burning mana. In actuality, fire is typically red to orange because it's dirty, the incomplete combustion creates byproducts, hydrocarbons, aldehydes, monoxides, the like. These particulates, and other contaminants that the fire consumes along the way, follow black-body radiation approximately, and that's the color we see. If you simply modify the fuel so that it burns with 100% efficiency and crank up the temperature, *BANG*. Kind of like an ethanol fire on steroids. Of course, that's hard to conceptualize and internalize as a human because orange fire is so engrained in our culture, but MK II bypasses that by, well, *not having* a culture."
I smiled and nodded. "Amazing, good work." Yep, more nonsense.
&nbsp;
___
A/N - Let's see... 362 years makes "his time" around the 1600's, so black powder rifles haha
A/N2 - Changed apprentice's gender to female because I just saw title says *her*
A/N3 - Added an Uber joke
/r/Unexpected_Works
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I was a 480-year-old wizard and she was an orphaned kid. She knocked on my hut seeking shelter from the rain, and immediately noticed all my cool wizard stuff. She looked at me with the sweetest smile and asked me to teach her. I agreed and took her under my wing.
She made a few mistakes along the way as most apprentices do \[luckily I had spellcaster's insurance\], but she actually learned quickly. She's only been my apprentice for three years and already has a lot of the basics down.
"Look, Master!" Ellie bounced in, definitely excited about something. "I worked all last night on casting different-colored fireballs like you taught me, and I'm ready to show you!" I chuckled, admiring her enthusiasm to what I've taught her. "Go ahead!" I smiled.
"A green fireball!" Ellie did some movements, and the fire glowed a perfectly bright green between her hands. "Very good!" I clapped. "And here's a pink one!" Ellie threw the green fire off to the side onto my fireproof floors, and changed her movements up a bit to cast a hot-pink ball of fire. "Excellent!" I stood up smiling.
My apprentice then moved her hands once more, in a variation I wasn't familiar with. "And guess what? I discovered how to make invisible fire!" I laughed. "That's cute, but fire naturally casts light. it would be hard to-" Ellie threw her right hand toward the wall, and it suddenly got a scorch mark.
I sat back down. "Did you just...?" I started to say. "Yep! Invisible fireballs!" Ellie said excitedly. "Do you remember how to do that again?" I asked. Ellie nodded and cast an invisible fireball onto the wall right next to the first one. I ran up to her and hugged her so tight that her excited giggles started gasping. I set her back down and stared at her while trying to think of what to say next.
The words finally found me as I continued. "This is a brand-new thing in the spellcasting world! Ellie, you have discovered a new spell variant!!" Ellie's eyes grew wide. "Wowie! Thanks Master Zadok!" That afternoon I took her to the market and said she can pick out anything she wanted.
Many years later, and the invisible fireball is one of the most used stealth attacks around. Ellie the Innovative is a 25-year-old young woman who now goes by the title sorceress, and she has had many more great ideas in the spellcasting world over the years. I let Ellie get her very own shack, and spellcasters from all over the area, including me, come to her for advice in magic. She also is part of a group of friends of her own, a party of adventurers lucky to have a smart sorceress like Ellie along for the ride.
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[WP] You have been a wizard for 350 years but your apprentice still surprises you. You laughed at her pink fireball and the green one too. The invisible one suddenly made you much more serious.
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#####**On the Study of Fires and Balls.**
___
&nbsp;
**Riiiiing.**
Blasted thing, where did I put it? It took me 3 minutes and 2 missed calls to finally locate the source of the insufferable noise. I fished the plastic rectangle my apprentice had given me from behind the sofa and tapped the vibrating surface. I didn't understand why she couldn't just use a simple *sending* spell, you didn't have to deal with this *reception* nonsense or memorize useless strings of numbers.
How the hell did this thing work anyway? Was I supposed to put it in my mouth so my words would pass over it? Must be quite uncomfortable talking like that. I elected to push it against my throat and hoped for the best. "Hello?"
"Professor, you there?"
Sigh. My apprentice used to call me *Master* Volidas before she attended that fancy school, Sand Board or something. Funny name for a institution that. Everything had changed when she returned. Perhaps it wasn't such a good idea to send her there after all, it was supposed to broaden her horizons and give her experience. Now, every other word that came out of her mouth was incomprehensible, words like *electromagnetic* or *modulation* or *wifi.* Some of those words were imaginary I'm sure, like that last one.
"Yes Elysandre, what is it?"
There was a pause on the line, "Why do you sound so muffled? Anyway, come over. I have something to show you. I've already sent an Uber to pick you up. It should be arriving any minute now."
"No need, I can fly on my own. Send the poor animal back, I'm not old enough to need a familiar to carry me just yet, I'm only 362 this year."
"No no, an *Uber* not a cougar, professor. It's a type of transport where you-"
I cut her off. "Sounds complicated. I'll see you in 10 minutes."
&nbsp;
Forty minutes later, I knocked on the front door of her office.
> *Eliza "Elysandre" Fotia, Thaumaturgical Engineer*
"What took you so long? You only live 5 minutes away." My apprentice opened the door with a slight frown, but motioned for me to follow her inside to the lab.
"Had to avoid all those damn sky ropes. What the hell are they even there for? I touched one to see what would happen, and a jolt of electricity strong enough to knock out an elephant surged through me."
"You… touched a high voltage line?" She stopped to examine the state of my clothes (now a little charred from the experience), concluded that I was otherwise fine, and continued to lead me downstairs.
"So, what was it that you wanted to show me?" I knew she had been working on a project for the past month, but she wouldn't give me any details. I was a little excited to finally learn what it was she was so fervently toiling on.
Elysandre pointed at a gigantic metallic ball with two protrusions on each side. A 3 meter wooden rod was attached to the end of the left appendage and a book was glued upside down on the right. "Meet my son, Ellis MK II," she said proudly.
"I fail to understand how you gave birth to an iron sphere, Student." I scratched my chin and examined the thing. "Or how it could have possibly passed your—"
She laughed, "It's a figure of speech. I meant that he's *like* a son because I created him." The young woman tilted her head as if contemplating a sudden thought, "Has anyone ever told you that you take things too literally?"
"Part of the profession, Elysandre. Magic is all about literal interpretation of concepts." This was wizardry 101, I was surprised she was asking such a fundamental question.
"When's the last time you had a check up, have you ever thought about getting screened for autism?"
"Wizards are all peculiar, I don't need a professional to tell me I'm afflicted with oddism. Anyway, what's your son do?"
Elysandre smiled, "He casts *special* fireballs. I'd like to pit them against you."
"Prescribed glyphs of warding? Silly of you to spend weeks welding together a metal scarecrow when a straw one would've sufficed."
"Heh, you're in for a surprise. MK II *doesn't* have any glyphs on him. I supplied the necessary biochemical fuel and firmware, but he himself acts as the thaumaturgical source. It took me a *long* time to get the control algorithm just right, ended up using PWM to simulate EEG readings. It's not perfect, and it requires human conceptual spell instruments, but it works."
I nodded along. "Yep. Makes sense." Mhm, total nonsense.
"HA! I knew you would understand!" She beamed like the little child she was, "Okay, just stand right there and let me know when you're ready. He's going to shoot three fireballs in quick succession."
I stood in the indicated circle and cast a simple mana shield. "Go ahead."
The first was a green fireball. Odd but not particularly powerful. I had never seen green fire before, but some dragons were said to be able to produce it. This would be useful for my own experiments. The bright ball puffed against the shimmering barrier and dissipated harmlessly. I inscribed the image into my mnemonic spellbook.
"One."
The second was a *pink* fireball. Odder still. I suppose if red fire was natural and *white* fire was produced in rare instances of explosive power, a *pink* fire could theoretically be made by tittering on the edge of both, but I had never heard of it happening before. How the hell had my student created pink fire? This little ball bumped against my wall with a bit more strength but also dissipated.
"Two."
I waited. Nothing happened for sometime. Wasn't there supposed to be three? "Elysandre, didn't you say—"
***BOOM***
My shield shattered and the force of the final fireball threw me against the wall. I hadn't even seen it coming and I had been staring at MK II the entire time.
"Three." My apprenticed stepped into the test chamber and helped me to my feet with a smile. "So, what did you think?"
"How... did you create an invisible fireball?" I was astounded. This was revolutionary.
"Technically, it's not invisible. It's just a really clean fireball, tampered to release ultraviolet radiation. You see, fire is simply hot gas and plasma, excitation of fuel during combustion. A fireball just a thrown mass of burning mana. In actuality, fire is typically red to orange because it's dirty, the incomplete combustion creates byproducts, hydrocarbons, aldehydes, monoxides, the like. These particulates, and other contaminants that the fire consumes along the way, follow black-body radiation approximately, and that's the color we see. If you simply modify the fuel so that it burns with 100% efficiency and crank up the temperature, *BANG*. Kind of like an ethanol fire on steroids. Of course, that's hard to conceptualize and internalize as a human because orange fire is so engrained in our culture, but MK II bypasses that by, well, *not having* a culture."
I smiled and nodded. "Amazing, good work." Yep, more nonsense.
&nbsp;
___
A/N - Let's see... 362 years makes "his time" around the 1600's, so black powder rifles haha
A/N2 - Changed apprentice's gender to female because I just saw title says *her*
A/N3 - Added an Uber joke
/r/Unexpected_Works
|
"Where did you learn to do that?!" I barked at Sheila.
I surprised myself with the tone of my voice. It sounded like my days back at the academy, where I was responsible for preparing novice wizards for combat. Those days, I thought, were long behind me.
It had been some 70 years since the Avazari hordes had slithered back to that realm of filth they called home. 70 years since I had seen so much as a wisp of their tainted spellweaving. Leave it to my clumsy, hapless pupil Sheila to cast an advanced Avazari technique out of the blue.
Sheila's big green eyes looked up at me, fearful. I had never spoken to her like that before. Although she was a mess, she was my favorite apprentice. Perhaps because now I was teaching out of pleasure instead of necessity, perhaps because she was simply kind and sweet, whereas most of my trainees back in the war days had been assholes. Jarheads of the wizarding world.
At times, I had almost given up on teaching her-- her connection with the arcane was like a senile doddering old man, whose urine came out like molasses before it hit the porcelain. But now, it seemed, she was picking it up all too quickly.
Sheila blushed. "I felt like I wasn't progressing fast enough, so I found a uhm... tutor, to help me, uhm, do some extra studying..."
My curiosity peaked. Not many wizards could teach a spell like that. Not many alive, anyways.
"For gods sake, Sheila," I said, "who has been teaching you?"
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[WP] You have been a wizard for 350 years but your apprentice still surprises you. You laughed at her pink fireball and the green one too. The invisible one suddenly made you much more serious.
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#####**On the Study of Fires and Balls.**
___
&nbsp;
**Riiiiing.**
Blasted thing, where did I put it? It took me 3 minutes and 2 missed calls to finally locate the source of the insufferable noise. I fished the plastic rectangle my apprentice had given me from behind the sofa and tapped the vibrating surface. I didn't understand why she couldn't just use a simple *sending* spell, you didn't have to deal with this *reception* nonsense or memorize useless strings of numbers.
How the hell did this thing work anyway? Was I supposed to put it in my mouth so my words would pass over it? Must be quite uncomfortable talking like that. I elected to push it against my throat and hoped for the best. "Hello?"
"Professor, you there?"
Sigh. My apprentice used to call me *Master* Volidas before she attended that fancy school, Sand Board or something. Funny name for a institution that. Everything had changed when she returned. Perhaps it wasn't such a good idea to send her there after all, it was supposed to broaden her horizons and give her experience. Now, every other word that came out of her mouth was incomprehensible, words like *electromagnetic* or *modulation* or *wifi.* Some of those words were imaginary I'm sure, like that last one.
"Yes Elysandre, what is it?"
There was a pause on the line, "Why do you sound so muffled? Anyway, come over. I have something to show you. I've already sent an Uber to pick you up. It should be arriving any minute now."
"No need, I can fly on my own. Send the poor animal back, I'm not old enough to need a familiar to carry me just yet, I'm only 362 this year."
"No no, an *Uber* not a cougar, professor. It's a type of transport where you-"
I cut her off. "Sounds complicated. I'll see you in 10 minutes."
&nbsp;
Forty minutes later, I knocked on the front door of her office.
> *Eliza "Elysandre" Fotia, Thaumaturgical Engineer*
"What took you so long? You only live 5 minutes away." My apprentice opened the door with a slight frown, but motioned for me to follow her inside to the lab.
"Had to avoid all those damn sky ropes. What the hell are they even there for? I touched one to see what would happen, and a jolt of electricity strong enough to knock out an elephant surged through me."
"You… touched a high voltage line?" She stopped to examine the state of my clothes (now a little charred from the experience), concluded that I was otherwise fine, and continued to lead me downstairs.
"So, what was it that you wanted to show me?" I knew she had been working on a project for the past month, but she wouldn't give me any details. I was a little excited to finally learn what it was she was so fervently toiling on.
Elysandre pointed at a gigantic metallic ball with two protrusions on each side. A 3 meter wooden rod was attached to the end of the left appendage and a book was glued upside down on the right. "Meet my son, Ellis MK II," she said proudly.
"I fail to understand how you gave birth to an iron sphere, Student." I scratched my chin and examined the thing. "Or how it could have possibly passed your—"
She laughed, "It's a figure of speech. I meant that he's *like* a son because I created him." The young woman tilted her head as if contemplating a sudden thought, "Has anyone ever told you that you take things too literally?"
"Part of the profession, Elysandre. Magic is all about literal interpretation of concepts." This was wizardry 101, I was surprised she was asking such a fundamental question.
"When's the last time you had a check up, have you ever thought about getting screened for autism?"
"Wizards are all peculiar, I don't need a professional to tell me I'm afflicted with oddism. Anyway, what's your son do?"
Elysandre smiled, "He casts *special* fireballs. I'd like to pit them against you."
"Prescribed glyphs of warding? Silly of you to spend weeks welding together a metal scarecrow when a straw one would've sufficed."
"Heh, you're in for a surprise. MK II *doesn't* have any glyphs on him. I supplied the necessary biochemical fuel and firmware, but he himself acts as the thaumaturgical source. It took me a *long* time to get the control algorithm just right, ended up using PWM to simulate EEG readings. It's not perfect, and it requires human conceptual spell instruments, but it works."
I nodded along. "Yep. Makes sense." Mhm, total nonsense.
"HA! I knew you would understand!" She beamed like the little child she was, "Okay, just stand right there and let me know when you're ready. He's going to shoot three fireballs in quick succession."
I stood in the indicated circle and cast a simple mana shield. "Go ahead."
The first was a green fireball. Odd but not particularly powerful. I had never seen green fire before, but some dragons were said to be able to produce it. This would be useful for my own experiments. The bright ball puffed against the shimmering barrier and dissipated harmlessly. I inscribed the image into my mnemonic spellbook.
"One."
The second was a *pink* fireball. Odder still. I suppose if red fire was natural and *white* fire was produced in rare instances of explosive power, a *pink* fire could theoretically be made by tittering on the edge of both, but I had never heard of it happening before. How the hell had my student created pink fire? This little ball bumped against my wall with a bit more strength but also dissipated.
"Two."
I waited. Nothing happened for sometime. Wasn't there supposed to be three? "Elysandre, didn't you say—"
***BOOM***
My shield shattered and the force of the final fireball threw me against the wall. I hadn't even seen it coming and I had been staring at MK II the entire time.
"Three." My apprenticed stepped into the test chamber and helped me to my feet with a smile. "So, what did you think?"
"How... did you create an invisible fireball?" I was astounded. This was revolutionary.
"Technically, it's not invisible. It's just a really clean fireball, tampered to release ultraviolet radiation. You see, fire is simply hot gas and plasma, excitation of fuel during combustion. A fireball just a thrown mass of burning mana. In actuality, fire is typically red to orange because it's dirty, the incomplete combustion creates byproducts, hydrocarbons, aldehydes, monoxides, the like. These particulates, and other contaminants that the fire consumes along the way, follow black-body radiation approximately, and that's the color we see. If you simply modify the fuel so that it burns with 100% efficiency and crank up the temperature, *BANG*. Kind of like an ethanol fire on steroids. Of course, that's hard to conceptualize and internalize as a human because orange fire is so engrained in our culture, but MK II bypasses that by, well, *not having* a culture."
I smiled and nodded. "Amazing, good work." Yep, more nonsense.
&nbsp;
___
A/N - Let's see... 362 years makes "his time" around the 1600's, so black powder rifles haha
A/N2 - Changed apprentice's gender to female because I just saw title says *her*
A/N3 - Added an Uber joke
/r/Unexpected_Works
|
“You didn’t!!” The greying wizard leaped from the lecturing podium yelling.
The student beaming with excitement was so proud to have elicited such a response from her usually stoic teacher. Magic, being a fundamental manipulation of elements, the green and pink fire was easy to create. After all the store rooms the granted for use during this test were full of the compounds needed. Lithium chloride for pink and copper sulfates made the green fireballs.
Still in a panic the senile wizard sprinted at a pace far exceeding his old bones expectations right up past his apprentice making for the storage rooms. The others in the room couldn’t understand why the matter was so pressing.
“Such a large invisible fireball oh no oh no” was all the student heard as the teacher zipped past.
“Had no one ever thought to make an invisible fireball before?” the apprentice played with that idea in her head waiting for her teachers return so she could be graded.
At last a sullen figure emerged from the dark store rooms looking quite exasperated. “While I commend you for the ingenuity of making an invisible fireball.” The wizard woefully remarked
“Was it truly necessary to use up ALL of this year’s shipment of alcohol to get the ethanol amount required for a spell of that size?”
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[WP] The vampires encourage human progress at first. After all, why not? The nicer their prey's civilization was the better the vampires would live to. But with prosperity came population growth. Its now 2022, humans outnumber vampires a thousand to one, and they are getting nervous.
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*It’s going to hit 8 billion soon.*
Harold walked along the narrow alleyway. The neon signs of the adult toy shops pierced through the smog.
The scenes of last weekend played over and over in his head. He was one of the oldest, most powerful vampires in all the lands, and they entirely ignored his warnings.
*The World Vampiric Forum is run by witless children!*
Harold knew the risks. Throughout the centuries, they were able to 'contain' Witnesses because, well, they were careful and they could live far enough away from humans, so there weren’t many.
This was no longer the case and space was becoming scarce.
Even a single witness would be an existential threat, and the WVF was getting complacent.
The humans needed culling, plain and simple.
NosfeRat poked his head out of Harold’s jacket and squeaked. “At least I still have you.” He kissed his little face. His whiskers tickled in the calming way he liked. NosfeRat’s eyes glowed red in sweet affection.
Harold knew the fate of all vampires was up to him now. Up ahead on the sidewalk, he saw a homeless leper trying to get himself warm with a tiny blanket. He was missing an arm. *Poor sod.* That was one advantage of being a vampire. He was immune from human illnesses. In fact, the sick and infirm were the easiest victims, although not very nourishing. Any foreign organism that enters a vampire’s blood stays dormant in a sort of ‘stasis’, as if frozen in amber forever.
He never went hungry during the Black Death. Or the more recent Spanish flu.
*Not far now.*
He was in a part of the world where bat meat was a delicacy. There was a large cave up ahead where much of the local bat population lived. All he needed to do was bite as many of them as possible. His blood and saliva formed a viral cocktail centuries in the making.
He carefully placed NosfeRat on the ground, turned himself into a bat, and entered the cave.
*Time to unleash a new plague.*
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"I'm simply suggesting that we might have given the humans too much-" the elder vampire paused as they surveyed the reaction across the dinner table, thanksgiving had been awakward the past couple of years. "rope on the leash, persey."
"Fuck that's a bad take," Alice commented just under her breath enough for everyone to hear it.
"Alice," Eugine kicked his daugther's shin and caught a glare for it, but that was okay, he was just trying to ensure that everything didn't go to shit again this year.
"It's okay," Alfric, the Elder Vampire raised a single hand and shook his head, "she doesn't know what it was like. The humans they used to-" Alfirc chewed his words for a moment and wiped blood off his teeth with his tongue, "they used to know their place."
"Jesus Christ," Alice added as she rolled her eyes so far back they threatened to form a union and leave.
"Alice!" Elma snapped at her daughter.
"It's a turn of phrase Mom I'm not calling him," Alice answered.
"Don't say things like that at the table," Eugine added, and then after a moment, "listen to your mother."
"It's my table, this is-" Alice bit back her words and took a moment. She wasn't going to change any hearts or minds tonight. Grandpa Alfric had been around since 1483 and Mom & Dad were more progressive but were just going to say he was from a differnt time. "Can we talk about something else?"
Silence crept into the room, only broken by the occasional clink as someone put down on a goblet. Blood sat to the right of a glass of red and white wine at every place setting, but there were also choice veiny cuts left on ice in case someone wanted a sip from the tap.
"Blood sure is good," Eugine commented to the air to help break the silence.
"Thanks Dad," Alice answered in the classic, 'I'm not going to show my emotions' monotone of someone trying not to be pissed.
Elma took a pointed sip and then considered the taste for a moment, "Were they a runner? It tastes like a very strong heart."
"No I think just vegan," Alice answered, "the hunter said they were really into their diets so I think it's more that than exersize" she trailed off.
"Can't have been cheap," Eugine added.
"Nooooooo-" Alice nodded along, "it was not, but it's thanksgiving so, ya know?" she put down her glass of blood after answering and silence dripped down from the ceiling again. Ice clattered in the bowl of fresh cuts as something melted enough for the entire array to shift. Alfric was simply staring down into their trio of glasses, not having taken a sip of blood since the conversation had changed topics.
"I'm going to go check on dessert," Alice announced after a moment before pushing back out from her chair.
"Oh my goodness there's more blood, are you fattening us up?" Eugine asked as he motioned to the mostly untouched cuts in the middle of the table.
"It's a human dessert, don't worry," Alice corrected, "I'll be right back." She did walk to the kitchen, but everyone saw Alice pull out her phone instead of simply going to check on desert.
Once she was barely out of earshot, Alfric sighed, picked up his glass and took a long sip of the vegan blood. Eugine and Elma returned to their meals as well, but after the inital sip Alfric broke his silence. "I don't know what I did-" he scrunched scrunched up his face like he'd just eaten a lemon, "I didn't mean to upset her I-"
"I know Dad," Elma answered while barely pulling the goblet away from her lips.
"No I don-" Alfric paused, "I do this every time and I don't want to make her-" he stopped again mid thought, "I'm going to go talk to her."
"Might not be the best idea Dad," Elma sighed, "just give her a minute and she'll be back."
"I-" Alfric pushed his chair out a touch, "I don't want her to have to 'cool off' before coming back to see me, it's a family dinner."
"Al," Eugine cut in, "let's just have a good rest of the night and we can just not bring up the human th-" Eugine stopped himself as all stood up and stalked into the kitchen. Eugine clicked his tongue three times and then turned to Elma ,"your Dad still doesn't care about my opinions."
"Not the time honey."
"It's been 130 years."
"Not the time."
In the kitchen Alice had pulled the cakes out of the oven two minutes ago but she was still leaning against the counter scrolling on her phone. Thanksgiving disasters was a trending hashtag and consdering nobody had responded to her text messages, she could at least look through other people's suffering and smile that her night wasn't going that poorly.
Alfric walked into the kitchen and Alice didn't immidiately look up from her phone, instead taking a moment to hope that he was just going to pop in and out but once it was clear he was going to stick around Alice looked up from her phone to meet his eyes for a moment, doing her best to ignore how catastrophically wide the tie he'd had since the 70's was. "I'm sorry," Alfric said after a moment.
"It's fine," Alice answered out of habit.
"No, it's not," Alfirc pointed out, "I don't want you to just need to tolerate me an-" he trailed off, "you and your parents are very different from me and-"
"I get it," Alice answered but she mostly went back to her phone instead of engaging. "like I said, it's fine."
"I don't want it to be just fine," Alfric took several steps back and found the counter across from Alice and leaned back against it. He crossed one leg over the other, with the toe of his dress shoe tapping the floor in contrast to Alice's white socks. "I want-" he took a second to consider words and then restarted, "I want us to enjoy our time together."
"Yeah," Alice answered before putting her phone in her pocket, "I like seeing you so we don't need to do-" she motioned back and forth between them, "this." It was clear to anyone in the room,especially Alfric, that she wasn't telling the whole truth. She might have liked the idea of seeing her grandfarther, but those were mostly memories of a time before she'd been her own person. The last twenty years had been tense at best.
"I want to be better," Alfric pointed out, "I want to-"
"and I don't particularly want to have this conversation tonight," Alice answered, "so it's fine."
"I-" Alfric swallowed his words.
"I just want to finish dinner and then-" she did a half shrug and then let her hands clap against her thighs, after a moment she did it again.
"I can respect that," Alfric nodded and pushed himself off of the counter. He took several steps forward, originally for a hug but then thought better of it, "are these ready to go?" he ponited to the cakes.
"They need a drizzle and I want to plate them," Alice answered, "but thank you."
"Okay," Alfric nodded for a moment before taking a step away from his granddaughter without invading her personal space. "I'll go make sure that your Mom and Dad aren't fighting over the place setting again."
Alice cracked half a smile and Alfric couldn't tell whether it was legitimate or a gimme, "thanks, be out in a minute."
Alfric left the room, ann Alice dipped her hand back into her pocket to grab her phone before pausing, and then turning to the counter to stand preparing the dessert.
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[WP] You are a doctor that works with seriously ill patients. Having seen it enough times, you actually recognize Death, and can use that to your patient's advantage.
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There is actually a legend of a doctor who could see death in my hometown. It goes like this:
There once was a young doctor who was woken up by death itself. Deth told him not to fear, for he has a gift for the doctor, his son. From then on, he could tell whether a patient would die or make it through by looking at the patients bed. If death stood at the patients feet, he would die, if he stood at the end of their head, they would live. Soon, the doctor became very famous for his abilities and one day, a king who fell ill called for him.
The king was desperate and told the doctor that if he would cure him, he would offer him his weight in gold. Unfortunately, death stood at the feet of the king. So, after thinking for a long time, he simply told the king's servants to turn the bed around. Soon, the king felt better. However, death felt cheated by his son and visited him again.
"Son. Come with me. I will show you another secret of mine" he told him and led him to a cave lit by thousands of candles.
"Father death... what is this room?" the doctor asked confused.
"This... is where everyones life is slowly burning down. Each candle is one person... and when the candle burns down.. they die."
panicking, the doctor asked :"where is mine?" while turning around so swift that he turned one of the nearby candles flame to just a slight glimmer.
"That one... was yours" Death said.
The doctors eyes widened while he watched his candles glimmer go out and died in the next moment.
Yep, austrian/viennese legends are always lighthearted and happy ending!
|
I am finally relieved. My 72 hour stent is over and I can return home. This stent was particularly painful as many patients had the sign. I know we aren't supposed to become attached but in many cases it's hard, especially with kids. Still the most heartbreaking case was a 13 year old with cancer. She was so full of life and had a great sense of humor. She spoke often of her dreams to piss on Mount Everest a sign she conquered the world. I couldn’t bear to tell her...
It feels like everyday becomes harder and harder to cope. My gift is now my plague. I know it helps for diagnosis, but too many times they come to me too late and there is nothing I can do. The patients have seen every doctor before me, and thus are just looking for a definitive answer. I have grown to hate it.
2nd street only a few more blocks.
I have taken to walking home as my wife and family are becoming irritable. They have been moody and moping about lately. They used to be so happy and upbeat, but lately they have been depressing to be around; it must be my long hours. I wish I could spend more time with them... maybe I'll retire after this year.
Damn an accident. I guess I should see if anyone's hurt.
I rushed over, it seems a car had pinned a jogger to a building. The jogger was mostly crushed, their face and limbs barely visible around the wreckage. "I'm a doctor", I said to the police, as I passed under the tape line. They didn't respond, but waived me over. It was obvious from the damage and the way the car was sitting. I didn't need to diagnose anything, he was gone. A scream pierced my ears, "MY HUSBAND, MY HUSBAND!!! OH GOD WHY?" Her tears filled her eyes. As the cops dragged her back i recognized her. "My Wife", I exclaimed.
I woke up to my alarm, another 72 hour stent.
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[WP] You are a doctor that works with seriously ill patients. Having seen it enough times, you actually recognize Death, and can use that to your patient's advantage.
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Death's Witness
&#x200B;
&#x200B;
The doctor shakes his head. *Another loss*, he thinks, as he continues the operation. He chances a glance up, looking through the plastic shield over his face. His eyes rest on the shadow cloaked figure across from him. His eyes linger only a moment, then pass to the aid there as he accepts a tool from her. He doesn't know if there are consequences for being able to see the creature but its best that he doesn't draw attention by staring.
He continues the surgery on autopilot, just going through the motions. In previous years, the creature had spurred the doctor into overdrive. Once, he realized what the creature implied, the doctor flew into action, always trying to snatch the person back from Death's clutches. Yet, time and time again, his own clutches were the ones left wanting. In time, his competitiveness abated for it was a creature he could not best, no matter how tireless his effort.
What was the score now, he often wondered. The question is only ever about Death's score though. He doesn't need a calculator to know his tally is zero. As he continues through the procedure, his mind is on the various versions of a conversation. "I'm sorry for your loss...we did all that we could...he/she fought the good fight but in the end..." It always ends the same so when the heart monitor's tone rings out, the doctor just shakes his head and calls it before the aids buzz into motion.
The doctor disposes of his protective equipment as he mentally acknowledges how jaded he has become. Those lost matches between him and Death had converted into something new over the years. He once wanted to sabotage the procedures to ease the patient's suffering but knew he couldn't. That would have had dire consequences which would catch up to him at some point. No, the patients were already gone, so the only thing he could do was something ever so small, it barely existed at all. Every time he sees that creature, that entity hovering over a patient's table, he focuses on getting through the procedure as efficiently as possible. If he conserves supplies and doesn't spend extra time in the operating room...those are things that the family won't get billed for.
Time and hallways pass by him in a blur, and he now stands in front of the family, reciting the words he had already prepared. After the family is leveled by their personalized hurricane and after the doctor receives the plethora of accusations, he returns to his office, alone. The position isn't a thankless one. There are countless instances where he gets showered with thank you, congratulations, and good work...but they are all just noise now. He knows that this most genuine effort to help the family will never be appreciated because it will never be known. This resigned feeling also makes him aware of one other eventuality. When Death finally shows up at his own bedside, he won't struggle or delay, instead just nodding silently, then following after.
|
I am finally relieved. My 72 hour stent is over and I can return home. This stent was particularly painful as many patients had the sign. I know we aren't supposed to become attached but in many cases it's hard, especially with kids. Still the most heartbreaking case was a 13 year old with cancer. She was so full of life and had a great sense of humor. She spoke often of her dreams to piss on Mount Everest a sign she conquered the world. I couldn’t bear to tell her...
It feels like everyday becomes harder and harder to cope. My gift is now my plague. I know it helps for diagnosis, but too many times they come to me too late and there is nothing I can do. The patients have seen every doctor before me, and thus are just looking for a definitive answer. I have grown to hate it.
2nd street only a few more blocks.
I have taken to walking home as my wife and family are becoming irritable. They have been moody and moping about lately. They used to be so happy and upbeat, but lately they have been depressing to be around; it must be my long hours. I wish I could spend more time with them... maybe I'll retire after this year.
Damn an accident. I guess I should see if anyone's hurt.
I rushed over, it seems a car had pinned a jogger to a building. The jogger was mostly crushed, their face and limbs barely visible around the wreckage. "I'm a doctor", I said to the police, as I passed under the tape line. They didn't respond, but waived me over. It was obvious from the damage and the way the car was sitting. I didn't need to diagnose anything, he was gone. A scream pierced my ears, "MY HUSBAND, MY HUSBAND!!! OH GOD WHY?" Her tears filled her eyes. As the cops dragged her back i recognized her. "My Wife", I exclaimed.
I woke up to my alarm, another 72 hour stent.
|
|
[WP] You are a doctor that works with seriously ill patients. Having seen it enough times, you actually recognize Death, and can use that to your patient's advantage.
|
There is actually a legend of a doctor who could see death in my hometown. It goes like this:
There once was a young doctor who was woken up by death itself. Deth told him not to fear, for he has a gift for the doctor, his son. From then on, he could tell whether a patient would die or make it through by looking at the patients bed. If death stood at the patients feet, he would die, if he stood at the end of their head, they would live. Soon, the doctor became very famous for his abilities and one day, a king who fell ill called for him.
The king was desperate and told the doctor that if he would cure him, he would offer him his weight in gold. Unfortunately, death stood at the feet of the king. So, after thinking for a long time, he simply told the king's servants to turn the bed around. Soon, the king felt better. However, death felt cheated by his son and visited him again.
"Son. Come with me. I will show you another secret of mine" he told him and led him to a cave lit by thousands of candles.
"Father death... what is this room?" the doctor asked confused.
"This... is where everyones life is slowly burning down. Each candle is one person... and when the candle burns down.. they die."
panicking, the doctor asked :"where is mine?" while turning around so swift that he turned one of the nearby candles flame to just a slight glimmer.
"That one... was yours" Death said.
The doctors eyes widened while he watched his candles glimmer go out and died in the next moment.
Yep, austrian/viennese legends are always lighthearted and happy ending!
|
N: “Thank you for coming doctor. My patient is this way, in the back rooms.”
D: “It’s no problem Nurse. I was already in the area when I got notified. Now let me check the patient… Oh dear. I’m sorry, but I believe this person is dead.”
N: ”What? Are you sure?”
D: ”Quite. I used to work with the terminally ill so I’m kinda an expert in recognizing the subject, not to toot my own horn.”
N: ”Surely you have some tests to double check?”
D: \*sigh\* “If it will make you feel better… No breathing, no pulse, unblinking eyes, low body temperature. Yep, she is certainly dead.”
N: ”Oh no! I’ve heard of this, but never thought I would see it!” \*starts sobbing\*
D: ”We should notify the next of kin… do you know who they are?”
N: ”Yy… yes.” \*sob\* “Bu.. but her sp… spouse” \*sob\* “is out of tt…tt… town.”
D: ”I see… and her parents?”
N: ”They… \*sob\* they… \*sob\* they’ll want h… \*sob\* her cremated…”
D: ”NO! No. That is um… unadvisable. The soul, you see, needs um… time to leave the body?”
N: ”Y… you are the expert, doctor. \*Nurse composes herself\* I’ll g… go inform the Lord and Lady…” \*Nurse leaves the room\*.
D: ”Darn it Juliet, I thought you knew not to take drugs from mysterious apothecaries. I can only hope your little ploy works…”
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[WP] You are a doctor that works with seriously ill patients. Having seen it enough times, you actually recognize Death, and can use that to your patient's advantage.
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Death's Witness
&#x200B;
&#x200B;
The doctor shakes his head. *Another loss*, he thinks, as he continues the operation. He chances a glance up, looking through the plastic shield over his face. His eyes rest on the shadow cloaked figure across from him. His eyes linger only a moment, then pass to the aid there as he accepts a tool from her. He doesn't know if there are consequences for being able to see the creature but its best that he doesn't draw attention by staring.
He continues the surgery on autopilot, just going through the motions. In previous years, the creature had spurred the doctor into overdrive. Once, he realized what the creature implied, the doctor flew into action, always trying to snatch the person back from Death's clutches. Yet, time and time again, his own clutches were the ones left wanting. In time, his competitiveness abated for it was a creature he could not best, no matter how tireless his effort.
What was the score now, he often wondered. The question is only ever about Death's score though. He doesn't need a calculator to know his tally is zero. As he continues through the procedure, his mind is on the various versions of a conversation. "I'm sorry for your loss...we did all that we could...he/she fought the good fight but in the end..." It always ends the same so when the heart monitor's tone rings out, the doctor just shakes his head and calls it before the aids buzz into motion.
The doctor disposes of his protective equipment as he mentally acknowledges how jaded he has become. Those lost matches between him and Death had converted into something new over the years. He once wanted to sabotage the procedures to ease the patient's suffering but knew he couldn't. That would have had dire consequences which would catch up to him at some point. No, the patients were already gone, so the only thing he could do was something ever so small, it barely existed at all. Every time he sees that creature, that entity hovering over a patient's table, he focuses on getting through the procedure as efficiently as possible. If he conserves supplies and doesn't spend extra time in the operating room...those are things that the family won't get billed for.
Time and hallways pass by him in a blur, and he now stands in front of the family, reciting the words he had already prepared. After the family is leveled by their personalized hurricane and after the doctor receives the plethora of accusations, he returns to his office, alone. The position isn't a thankless one. There are countless instances where he gets showered with thank you, congratulations, and good work...but they are all just noise now. He knows that this most genuine effort to help the family will never be appreciated because it will never be known. This resigned feeling also makes him aware of one other eventuality. When Death finally shows up at his own bedside, he won't struggle or delay, instead just nodding silently, then following after.
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N: “Thank you for coming doctor. My patient is this way, in the back rooms.”
D: “It’s no problem Nurse. I was already in the area when I got notified. Now let me check the patient… Oh dear. I’m sorry, but I believe this person is dead.”
N: ”What? Are you sure?”
D: ”Quite. I used to work with the terminally ill so I’m kinda an expert in recognizing the subject, not to toot my own horn.”
N: ”Surely you have some tests to double check?”
D: \*sigh\* “If it will make you feel better… No breathing, no pulse, unblinking eyes, low body temperature. Yep, she is certainly dead.”
N: ”Oh no! I’ve heard of this, but never thought I would see it!” \*starts sobbing\*
D: ”We should notify the next of kin… do you know who they are?”
N: ”Yy… yes.” \*sob\* “Bu.. but her sp… spouse” \*sob\* “is out of tt…tt… town.”
D: ”I see… and her parents?”
N: ”They… \*sob\* they… \*sob\* they’ll want h… \*sob\* her cremated…”
D: ”NO! No. That is um… unadvisable. The soul, you see, needs um… time to leave the body?”
N: ”Y… you are the expert, doctor. \*Nurse composes herself\* I’ll g… go inform the Lord and Lady…” \*Nurse leaves the room\*.
D: ”Darn it Juliet, I thought you knew not to take drugs from mysterious apothecaries. I can only hope your little ploy works…”
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[WP] You are an archeologist who just made the discovery of their career: A facility build by an ancient civilization to store frozen bodies in case their species goes extinct! And it's intact too! You'll be the first in millions of years to talk to a human!
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Since the beginning of recorded history, legends have told of Artificers: heroes who come once an age, wielding ancient knowledge. During the great famine, it was an Artificer who spoke to the trees with logic texts and taught them to grow once more. It was an Artificer who resurrected Predecessor technology to drive back Nilst hoards. Some say it was even an Artificer who taught us to speak and write. Little is known about them, even by our most noble scholars. But one thing is certain: in every age an Artificer appeared, the world has never been the same again.
I grew up listening to these stories, imagining what adventures Artificers must have had. I would play in the fields from breakfast to dinner, pretending to be one. Boulders became the great Stoa Mountain range, and creeks transformed into the legendary Myth Canyons of Mcha domain. I dug holes in the dirt as I scaled the depths of the Endless Fissure. But my favorite place to play was my father’s workshop. I spent hours upon hours pretending it was the Predecessor's Grave ruins, while I delved for relics. For a long time I believed my father to be an Artificer himself. When I told him, he laughed and said he was a simple salvager, doing his best to provide for me. I still believed him to be an artificer for a long time after.
Shadows passed over my face plate in the early morning as I stared directly up, marveling at the sharp colors from the sun’s blue light passing through red oagen tree leaves. I’d begged my father to take me on an adventure with him for years. Now that I was old enough to finally come with him, my imagination leaked out of my ears.
“Eyes forward,” my father said, pushing my head back down. “Rule number one: always be aware of your surroundings.”
“Yes sir!” I said, raising a hand to shade my eyes as I scouted the trail ahead. A whole lot of nothing. Just like twenty hundredths of a rotation earlier, and twenty hundredths before that. My mind began to wander again. My father’s black armor was hardly visible in the shade. He had a number of pockets and bags strapped all over his body. Not to mention a weapon for every occasion. He was even teaching me to shoot his plasma rail, before we left. My father embodied everything I imagined an Artificer to be.
I imagined a ferocious Bright stomping through the trees, igniting everything in its path with fiery breath released from its humongous jaws. My leg plates rattled with fear and excitement just from the thought. Rule number eleven of my father’s guidebook: no campfires. Brights could smell smoke from a kilo-unit away. Smoldering leftovers from forest fires were their favorite food. My father loved to tell the story of when he was surrounded by a pack of brights while traveling with a caravan. The only reason they managed to make it out alive was because they lit one of the biel pulling their carriage on fire and let the Brights chase after it. I felt bad for the poor creature, but survival in the wilds meant making those sorts of difficult decisions.
We had lunch in a clearing around mid rotation. Nothing fancy, just some dried Licken meat sprinkled with salt and aluminum shavings. After a good hike, it really hit the spot. I took sips of water as I watched a hydrogen whale eat a cloud far off in the sky. It was huge! An entire village could fit on its back. The lightning rods along its spine glistened. The reflection from the sun was so bright I had to squint.
“Quiet,” my father snapped.
My heart skipped a beat. I hardly even breathed. But all I heard were the chirps of birds and the buzzing of biz as they hovered between plume grass stalks. But then I heard it. A low rumbling at first, growing louder with each thousandth of a rotation. Before growing quieter again.
My father turned to me. “What do you think that was?”
“An aerocore?” I said. “I thought they didn’t live this far west?”
“They don’t, usually,” he said. “Very rare to find one out here. But more importantly: what is rule number twelve?”
“Never stop in a clearing in aerocore territory?”
“Good. Why is that?”
“Because there’s no cover if it decides to dive bomb you.”
“That’s my girl,” he said, tussling my head.
“Dad, stop!” I said, readjusting my faceplate. “I’m not a kid!”
“Let’s get going. And no open areas for the next couple days. At least until the Aeorcore is gone.”
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I was in my lab just guessing what do I do now, their were 7 embryos inside each pod. My team member would be here by eight, but he was young and of course, he would spill the beans to every one of my colleagues, if I ever gave him charge of the project
Look, Ethan--I know that everyone doubts you, but no, I said when he called me thirty minutes later. But sir, this isn't funny okay. NO, and that's final. I hung up the phone. So eager, I thought. I was looking at them again, so glossy, each one behind their layered panel of glass--when the door bell rang. Hi Ethan
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[WP] You are an archeologist who just made the discovery of their career: A facility build by an ancient civilization to store frozen bodies in case their species goes extinct! And it's intact too! You'll be the first in millions of years to talk to a human!
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“These chambers are our legacy. What is left of humanity.
In the first chamber you will find our history. In the second our tools and instructions we use them. In the third a viewing of life as we knew it, with documentation of cultures, cuisines and clothing. In the fourth a viewing of nature well as wildlife and general life on earth. In the fifth the vast literary works of all cultures as well as an explanation to the languages used. And in the final chamber We have chosen representatives from every country, from most occupations, from all ages, genders and walks of life. You will find them asleep. To be awakened so they may represent us.”
This message was displayed by a hologram in every earthly language at the entrance of the cave. It had taken months to get it to work.
As we entered the cave we felt a feeling of reverence. As if we had entered a sacred space. And in a way had. We were the first to enter this cave or even to lay eyes upon it for millions of years.
As I descended the stairs I was surprised to see the level of technology that the humans used to have.
We went through all the chambers. Learning more and more about the humans. Absorbing all the knowledge in our databanks.
The stasis chamber was humongous. Over a thousand humans were found. On each of the pod was stated a short history of their lives, names of birthplaces long gone, a list of allergies and intolerances, religious beliefs and what languages they speak.
And then finally the first human thawed out. The moment she opened her eyes will go down in history as the greatest achievement of our times. As the humans say: one small step for a human, a giant leap for humanity.
Sadia woke up drowsy, incoherent, mumbling something we couldn’t understand. We gently made her sit up and asked her if she was ok and if she understood us. She answered: Ya, Allah I made it. Alhamdolilah! God is great.” She then turned to us: “ I wasn’t sure I would make it. If my stasis pod would keep working or even if our cave would ever be found. But Subhanallah I made it.
You must a million questions for me. As I have for you. But first may I have some water?”
“Oh why yes ofcourse” She looked at the water and took a big sip and then spit it out. What is this? I asked for water. “ This is what you call water , it is fresh from the ocean” “ the ocean? Hahahahha” Sadia laughed. “Humans dont drink water from the ocean it is too salty. We drink water from rivers, streams and lakes even rainwater. But never saline water from the ocean. Our stomachs are not adapted to drink it. We drink plain H2O, you know hydrogen dioxide. “
“ oh yes, well that explains a lot actually, we assumed since all life began in the oceans, you would consume ocean water as we do. Wait, we will give you some other water. “
“Where are the others?”
“Some of the pods did fail as you feared yours would, but we were able to recover over 800 humans. They are slowly thawing out. You were just the first one we found to be alive.”
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I was in my lab just guessing what do I do now, their were 7 embryos inside each pod. My team member would be here by eight, but he was young and of course, he would spill the beans to every one of my colleagues, if I ever gave him charge of the project
Look, Ethan--I know that everyone doubts you, but no, I said when he called me thirty minutes later. But sir, this isn't funny okay. NO, and that's final. I hung up the phone. So eager, I thought. I was looking at them again, so glossy, each one behind their layered panel of glass--when the door bell rang. Hi Ethan
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[WP] They cloned your child and gave him to you as an apology.He is exactly like your child,personality and likes and dislikes are the same.You could've pretend he never died,pretend to be the happy parent to a lonely child but you cannot accept this pale imitation in front of you.
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"We hope this makes up for the suffering this situation has caused you," A man in a fancy suit drones on, "By accepting our apology and this gift you agree to keep this to yourself,"
He slides a paper across the table, along with a pen. I can't take my eyes off my son, sitting quietly next to the lawyer. He looks just like him, but paler. My son is sitting there and when he catches my eye he smiles. Even the gap in his teeth is the same.
"Mr. Faust," The lawyer taps the paper.
Snapping my attention to it, I scribble out my signature. He grabs the papers and makes a silent exit. I return to watching my son. He is playing with a bear and just sitting there.
"Sam," I whisper, "Oh God, Sam,"
"Yeah, daddy?" He looks up at me and I break.
Practically jumping over the coffee table I pull him into a hug, "Sam, little buddy, daddy missed you so much,"
He giggles, "It's only been a day! You're silly daddy,"
A day? Three weeks ago those bastards took my son. They said he was sick. They killed him. I had to bury my boy. This thing in my arms isn't him. That sick realization washes over me. I hold him a little tighter.
"Ow," he pushes me, "Too right,"
Releasing him, I quickly back away, "Sorry little buddy. How bout we make dinner?"
He nods excessively before rushing into the kitchen. I follow, getting the thing I need. Together we make some grilled cheese. Sitting at the table I steal my nerves.
"So," I start, "What did you do while you were gone?"
"Wab wab at comb homb," his mouth is full.
"Chew first,"
He swallows, "I was waiting to come home,"
He goes back to eating. God, he even has the same eating habits. He peels the crust off and eats it last. How is this not my son?
I spend the rest of the night secretly quizzing him. His favorite movie is still Cars. His favorite food is still mac-n-cheese. He still hates bugs. He's still ticklish in the same spots and he still makes the same jokes.
"Which story do you want?" I ask, tucking in his covers.
His room is the same as when he died. I couldn't bring myself to go through his things.
"Hmm," he hums, looking at his little bookshelf, "I want the bunny one!"
"Good night moon?" I ask, taking a good look at him.
"Yeah! I like it the best!"
There it is. He does like that story the best but he never calls it that. It's always the 'good night book'.
Calmly I grab the book and read it to him. He isn't my son. Once he's asleep I slip out of his room and head to the kitchen. Splashing water on my face to clear my head. I grip the edge of the counter.
That thing is not my Sam. He is the same but he's not. The smile is just a bit too big and his voice a bit too high. He is not my son.
But he doesn't know that. He may not be my son but he's still a kid. A kid who wouldn't understand my anger and my loss. A kid who doesn't know anything about the past three weeks. He may not be my son but he is mine now. I won't forget my Sam, my little buddy and I won't abandon this thing. I will raise him. He is not the Sam I lost but he is my responsibility now.
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It’s sitting where he sat. It eats what he ate. It even laughs and cries like he did.
But It isn’t him. It isn’t my Jonathan.
I know It’s an exact replica, a clone, of my son. But It isn’t my son. No matter how hard I try to believe it, that thing just isn’t my little boy.
Yes they look the same and everything, even a DNA test would confirm it to be my dead son, but I know they’re not the same. My little boy lies buried under the earth, slowly decaying into the soil to be eaten by worms while this pretender sits in my living room watching cartoons.
I get why they did it. I understand. It’s a kindness, at least in their eyes it is. They think this will fix everything? Cover their asses and right the wrong, the mistakes they made that led to this? Not even close. I cant forgive them, especially now that this Thing sleeps in my dead son’s bed.
I cant look the boy in the eyes. He thinks I hate him. Part of me does. Part of me hates this imitation of my dead son. But the other part…the other part loves him so much it hurts. Having It around, It’s tearing me apart. I can’t do it anymore. I also can’t just leave It. It has ‘feelings’ and ‘emotions’ like my boy did. I’d feel awful to abandon It, to abandon this facsimile of my son.
I don’t know what to do.
The child turned it’s head, beaming with a cheesy grin which was suddenly replaced with a look of wanting and unease. “What’s wrong, Dad?”
“Nothing, son.” I lied. Everything was wrong and there was nothing anyone could do to fix it.
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[WP] You, the lone astronaut on a research mission, have just discovered a dead astronaut while on a routine spacewalk. The kicker? The astronaut you just found is identical to you in every way.
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I looked into the dead astronauts cold blue eyes. It stared back at me with no emotion. I looked at the nose, which was identical to my nose. I stared at the gaping mouth, which even had a scar on it that I had gotten when I was a kid. What on earth was going on here?
That was the thing, we were not on Earth. I was on the planet “Edge-99”, long rumoured to be the last planet before the edge of the universe. It had taken me 20 long years to make the exhausting journey to this place, all to research what was beyond. After I had reached the planet, I had to remain stationary to refill my fuel from the nearby rocks. That’s when the anomalies began to surface.
Not even after a day of stopping, my electronic systems started slowly glitching out. Small errors here and there, monitors getting blue screens, and eventually a full on short circuit in my cameras outside the ship. The cameras were vital to know my surroundings, so I had to go outside and fix it. This was a dangerous job, as this part of space was not highly mapped out. One hit from an incoming asteroid, and I was a goner.
As I was readying myself for the dreaded spacewalk, something light hit my spaceship. Great, another thing to fix, I had thought to myself as I entered the airlock. I slowly drifted my way to every single camera on the ship, fixing the fuse and replacing them. This took me hours to complete, but I finally finished. I then went to the spot where I had heard the thud, and I was met with myself.
It was an exact replica of me, except the fact that the spacesuit was green, compared to my blue. I was completely baffled, and my mind was blanked out. What? How? Why? Huh? These questions repeated over and over inside my head. It was a full 5 minutes before I finally snapped out of the paralysis. I slowly examined the suit, and sure enough found the emergency recorder strapped to the neck. I carefully took it out, and before I went back to the ship, I tied the body down to the ship using steel ropes I had in my backpack.
After entering back, I immediately went to the control board and inserted the device into the slot meant for it. With enough time, the whole file transferred over to the sound system, and I hit play. My voice echoed throughout the ship.
“I am recording down some information for whoever finds this. If you have found this, then I am 100% dead, but at least I have succeeded. Let me explain.
I was sent to the edge of our universe on a mission to see what was beyond it. I had successfully reached the planet Edge-999 when all went to hell. My electronics acted out, oxygen levels dropped, and I was slowly losing control over my ship. I had to do something, so I used the escape pod to flee the failing ship and rush towards the end of the universe. The end of the universe was now visibly in my sight, and what I had seen beyond the end, well its quite hard to put into words.
The colours there was something you cannot even perceive using your mind. Think something along the lines of white, but even that doesn’t do it justice. As soon I left my universe, my escape pod stopped working. There was no gravity here, there was nothing here. This place was empty, and truly empty. I was stuck outside of my universe, and I didn’t see anyway out of here.
That’s where I am as of now. But, I have come up with a plan, which I hope succeeds. If it does, then it will not only prove that the multiverse exists, but actually alert another universe of its existence. I am planning on using the self destruction button to create an anomaly within the non existence itself, where energy is dispersed and that could possibly boost me enough to reach the next universe.”
The recording ended there. I couldn’t believe my ears. I had just listened to myself from another universe, talk about the place beyond universes! So many theories were racing through my mind, but before I got too distracted, I went back outside to examine “my” body. How did “I” die?
Upon looking closer, I could see that there was a torn hole in my suit. This was possibly from the explosion the self destruction had caused, which was truly a shame. I wonder what “I” would have said to myself from another universe? How would that interaction go? Maybe this happened in another universe. Well, that universe was not ours, which was a shame.
I looked toward the edge, thinking how we could truly cross it. That’s when I saw it. A spaceship, exactly the same as mine. It was accelerating at full speed towards my ship, and it was far too late for me to avoid it. How the hell did the ship come over? Why was this happening? I was left with no choice, was I? I would have to abandon my ship on foot, and jump towards the end. That was the only way I could hope to survive. With tears in my eyes, I cut off my safety rope, and leaped to the uncertain beyond…
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The cold stiff body floated in front of me, locking eyes. I didn’t know what to do.. it had to have been me. It was identical to me.
*snap out of it Ray, use your head*
I looked up at the body again, looking for any detail that would set me apart from him,
*my mole*
I remembered, I have a mole right next to my lip. I reached my hand out to grab the body. I couldn’t feel it through my suit but I imagined it either being soft and squishy, or hard and cracking.
I pulled it closer, I could see the bright blue veins bulging from his face. And then I saw the mole.
There was no denying it now. This body. Was
A. My identical twin from whom I was separated at birth.
2. I was dead and I’m a ghost haunting space
3. This is a completely unrelated person who just happens to look like me.
I held the body tightly. And pulled it back into the station. I examined it, everything was the same as me.
Then the power went out. I panicked. If the power was out was my oxygen supply? Yes surely. I want to put on my suit but then I noticed something. I was not struggling to breathe at all. I had not been breathing one bit, like I had forgotten how to. I realized option B was probably correct….
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[WP] You, the lone astronaut on a research mission, have just discovered a dead astronaut while on a routine spacewalk. The kicker? The astronaut you just found is identical to you in every way.
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I couldn't move. I couldn't think. All I could do was stare. Stare, out into familiar eyes as they stared, unblinking, unseeing, back at me through a clear visor.
I didn't understand.
His bulky, white spacesuit stood in stark contrast to the black rocky surface of Agriesta-7 far below us. A thick cable hooked into a strap on his chest tethered him to the rarely-used docking bay of my research satellite.
62 days I'd been up here, researching the potential of harvesting solar rays in this system, with no sign of anyone. But now, him.
I reached up and rotated a dial on my helmet 40 degrees or so, and my stomach lurched as my eyes refocused on the magnified image of his face now projected inside my visor.
Those brown eyes. The thick eyebrows, recently plucked. The stubble, which I could never quite grow into a full beard.
I blinked. The shine of recently applied chapstick was on his lips.
I licked my own lips, tasting the petroleum jelly.
After a moment, my curiosity finally overcame the disbelief and fear. I made my way across the short catwalk and punched my access codes into the airlock. After decompression and sanitization, I moved to the console, keeping my eyes on him through the 360 degree windows surrounding the cramped bridge. I had to know what was going on.
I opened the winch control software and felt the small satellite rumble beneath my feet as I gradually retracted the cable back towards the docking bay, bringing him with it. How long had he been there? I must have been so focused on my research that I didn't even notice his arrival. Something seemed off about that, though. I didn't use the winch. That cable hadn't been extended in months. I should've heard it, felt it, seen it when it'd been pulled out from the bay.
What *is* it? Is it dead? Why does it look like that?
*CRKKCRKKRKCKRKCRKKKCKRK-*
My thoughts are interrupted as the radio switches on and blasts at me with static. That damn old radio, Marco said he had it patched right up last time. I'll have to have a talk with him when I get back. I punch the volume knob to mute it. I start winching again, and look up.
It's gone.
I'd just looked down for a second, and now it's gone. The gray, metal cable floats aimlessly against the backdrop of Agriesta-7, oblivious to it all.
I can't breathe.
Something catches my eye: a reflection in the glass.
It's here, behind me.
It smiles.
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The cold stiff body floated in front of me, locking eyes. I didn’t know what to do.. it had to have been me. It was identical to me.
*snap out of it Ray, use your head*
I looked up at the body again, looking for any detail that would set me apart from him,
*my mole*
I remembered, I have a mole right next to my lip. I reached my hand out to grab the body. I couldn’t feel it through my suit but I imagined it either being soft and squishy, or hard and cracking.
I pulled it closer, I could see the bright blue veins bulging from his face. And then I saw the mole.
There was no denying it now. This body. Was
A. My identical twin from whom I was separated at birth.
2. I was dead and I’m a ghost haunting space
3. This is a completely unrelated person who just happens to look like me.
I held the body tightly. And pulled it back into the station. I examined it, everything was the same as me.
Then the power went out. I panicked. If the power was out was my oxygen supply? Yes surely. I want to put on my suit but then I noticed something. I was not struggling to breathe at all. I had not been breathing one bit, like I had forgotten how to. I realized option B was probably correct….
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[WP] You, the lone astronaut on a research mission, have just discovered a dead astronaut while on a routine spacewalk. The kicker? The astronaut you just found is identical to you in every way.
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The bright white light fades and real-space comes into view.
After the short burst of experimental FTL travel I was finally closing in on the Anomalous Nova Burst site. Thanks to this new engine, despite the signal having taken years to reach us, I arrived only an hour after we detected it. FTL and keeping track of time is a strange thing that people smarter than me fuss over so I tend to not worry about it.
This anomalous burst of energy output as much power as a supernova but was detected in a dead region of space where no stars have formed. That’s why I’m here, to get a lay of the land, and report back to command.
It appears the FTL exit point has brought me into some kind of debris field. Tiny flecks of shrapnel litter the starspace before me. Whatever happened here was devastating. The wreckage looks a lot like a satellite came into contact with a high velocity object, likely some sort of asteroid, and was completely annihilated. Either that or the power source was damaged and detonated, but small craft like that don’t have engines powerful enough to obliterate them and cause an explosion of such magnitude.
Something is wrong here.
I saw something, a bulky mass, floating outside the debris field. The thing is moving fast. Clearly, it was sent careening off into the void by the supernova. If only I could catch up to it…
Oh. My. God.
Looking out the viewport I could do nothing but hang there in complete and utter disbelief. Mouth agape, breath caught in my lungs, time came to a standstill as I saw it casually drift past.
It's a body, or at least the remnants of what was once a body. Most of the limbs are missing, as is a good portion of the abdomen. The exposed skin is charred and cracked like a burnt roast while being coated in a gentle crystalline layer of frozen fluid. The face is contorted, a final primal scream locked in place for eternity…wait a minute…is that?
…
It's…it’s me.
The corpse suspended in space before me is myself. How is this even possible? I don’t understand. How am I in here and out there at the same time? Is this some kind of test? A sick joke orchestrated by command to test the new FTL drive? If so, why do this? What purpose does this have?
There was no time to answer any questions as the proximity alarm sounded. My head snapped around to check the console, but it was too late. Another piece of debris had snuck up on me and was going too fast to avoid.
A thundering crash and screeching sheering metal was accompanied with the sudden rush of air as my ship was struck by the errant junk missile. I was promptly sucked out into space, clawing and gasping for air that wasn’t there. Panic set in as I pinwheeled away from the cleaved shuttle into the depths of infinity.
Death will come quickly; I can feel it. The freezing cold was so sharp and sudden I hadn’t the time to register it. The worst part was feeling my fluids boil away and the subsequent gas slowly balloon me. It will be over soon. Before I was allowed to slip peacefully into death, as my vision blurred and my eyes began to squash and flatten, I saw the exposed engine be ripped apart by more shrapnel.
An immense heat suddenly struck me. Space collapsed around me, crunched me down to less than the size of a single atom, and then exploded into the brightest white light I have ever seen.
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The cold stiff body floated in front of me, locking eyes. I didn’t know what to do.. it had to have been me. It was identical to me.
*snap out of it Ray, use your head*
I looked up at the body again, looking for any detail that would set me apart from him,
*my mole*
I remembered, I have a mole right next to my lip. I reached my hand out to grab the body. I couldn’t feel it through my suit but I imagined it either being soft and squishy, or hard and cracking.
I pulled it closer, I could see the bright blue veins bulging from his face. And then I saw the mole.
There was no denying it now. This body. Was
A. My identical twin from whom I was separated at birth.
2. I was dead and I’m a ghost haunting space
3. This is a completely unrelated person who just happens to look like me.
I held the body tightly. And pulled it back into the station. I examined it, everything was the same as me.
Then the power went out. I panicked. If the power was out was my oxygen supply? Yes surely. I want to put on my suit but then I noticed something. I was not struggling to breathe at all. I had not been breathing one bit, like I had forgotten how to. I realized option B was probably correct….
|
|
[WP] You, the lone astronaut on a research mission, have just discovered a dead astronaut while on a routine spacewalk. The kicker? The astronaut you just found is identical to you in every way.
|
The bright white light fades and real-space comes into view.
After the short burst of experimental FTL travel I was finally closing in on the Anomalous Nova Burst site. Thanks to this new engine, despite the signal having taken years to reach us, I arrived only an hour after we detected it. FTL and keeping track of time is a strange thing that people smarter than me fuss over so I tend to not worry about it.
This anomalous burst of energy output as much power as a supernova but was detected in a dead region of space where no stars have formed. That’s why I’m here, to get a lay of the land, and report back to command.
It appears the FTL exit point has brought me into some kind of debris field. Tiny flecks of shrapnel litter the starspace before me. Whatever happened here was devastating. The wreckage looks a lot like a satellite came into contact with a high velocity object, likely some sort of asteroid, and was completely annihilated. Either that or the power source was damaged and detonated, but small craft like that don’t have engines powerful enough to obliterate them and cause an explosion of such magnitude.
Something is wrong here.
I saw something, a bulky mass, floating outside the debris field. The thing is moving fast. Clearly, it was sent careening off into the void by the supernova. If only I could catch up to it…
Oh. My. God.
Looking out the viewport I could do nothing but hang there in complete and utter disbelief. Mouth agape, breath caught in my lungs, time came to a standstill as I saw it casually drift past.
It's a body, or at least the remnants of what was once a body. Most of the limbs are missing, as is a good portion of the abdomen. The exposed skin is charred and cracked like a burnt roast while being coated in a gentle crystalline layer of frozen fluid. The face is contorted, a final primal scream locked in place for eternity…wait a minute…is that?
…
It's…it’s me.
The corpse suspended in space before me is myself. How is this even possible? I don’t understand. How am I in here and out there at the same time? Is this some kind of test? A sick joke orchestrated by command to test the new FTL drive? If so, why do this? What purpose does this have?
There was no time to answer any questions as the proximity alarm sounded. My head snapped around to check the console, but it was too late. Another piece of debris had snuck up on me and was going too fast to avoid.
A thundering crash and screeching sheering metal was accompanied with the sudden rush of air as my ship was struck by the errant junk missile. I was promptly sucked out into space, clawing and gasping for air that wasn’t there. Panic set in as I pinwheeled away from the cleaved shuttle into the depths of infinity.
Death will come quickly; I can feel it. The freezing cold was so sharp and sudden I hadn’t the time to register it. The worst part was feeling my fluids boil away and the subsequent gas slowly balloon me. It will be over soon. Before I was allowed to slip peacefully into death, as my vision blurred and my eyes began to squash and flatten, I saw the exposed engine be ripped apart by more shrapnel.
An immense heat suddenly struck me. Space collapsed around me, crunched me down to less than the size of a single atom, and then exploded into the brightest white light I have ever seen.
|
I looked into the dead astronauts cold blue eyes. It stared back at me with no emotion. I looked at the nose, which was identical to my nose. I stared at the gaping mouth, which even had a scar on it that I had gotten when I was a kid. What on earth was going on here?
That was the thing, we were not on Earth. I was on the planet “Edge-99”, long rumoured to be the last planet before the edge of the universe. It had taken me 20 long years to make the exhausting journey to this place, all to research what was beyond. After I had reached the planet, I had to remain stationary to refill my fuel from the nearby rocks. That’s when the anomalies began to surface.
Not even after a day of stopping, my electronic systems started slowly glitching out. Small errors here and there, monitors getting blue screens, and eventually a full on short circuit in my cameras outside the ship. The cameras were vital to know my surroundings, so I had to go outside and fix it. This was a dangerous job, as this part of space was not highly mapped out. One hit from an incoming asteroid, and I was a goner.
As I was readying myself for the dreaded spacewalk, something light hit my spaceship. Great, another thing to fix, I had thought to myself as I entered the airlock. I slowly drifted my way to every single camera on the ship, fixing the fuse and replacing them. This took me hours to complete, but I finally finished. I then went to the spot where I had heard the thud, and I was met with myself.
It was an exact replica of me, except the fact that the spacesuit was green, compared to my blue. I was completely baffled, and my mind was blanked out. What? How? Why? Huh? These questions repeated over and over inside my head. It was a full 5 minutes before I finally snapped out of the paralysis. I slowly examined the suit, and sure enough found the emergency recorder strapped to the neck. I carefully took it out, and before I went back to the ship, I tied the body down to the ship using steel ropes I had in my backpack.
After entering back, I immediately went to the control board and inserted the device into the slot meant for it. With enough time, the whole file transferred over to the sound system, and I hit play. My voice echoed throughout the ship.
“I am recording down some information for whoever finds this. If you have found this, then I am 100% dead, but at least I have succeeded. Let me explain.
I was sent to the edge of our universe on a mission to see what was beyond it. I had successfully reached the planet Edge-999 when all went to hell. My electronics acted out, oxygen levels dropped, and I was slowly losing control over my ship. I had to do something, so I used the escape pod to flee the failing ship and rush towards the end of the universe. The end of the universe was now visibly in my sight, and what I had seen beyond the end, well its quite hard to put into words.
The colours there was something you cannot even perceive using your mind. Think something along the lines of white, but even that doesn’t do it justice. As soon I left my universe, my escape pod stopped working. There was no gravity here, there was nothing here. This place was empty, and truly empty. I was stuck outside of my universe, and I didn’t see anyway out of here.
That’s where I am as of now. But, I have come up with a plan, which I hope succeeds. If it does, then it will not only prove that the multiverse exists, but actually alert another universe of its existence. I am planning on using the self destruction button to create an anomaly within the non existence itself, where energy is dispersed and that could possibly boost me enough to reach the next universe.”
The recording ended there. I couldn’t believe my ears. I had just listened to myself from another universe, talk about the place beyond universes! So many theories were racing through my mind, but before I got too distracted, I went back outside to examine “my” body. How did “I” die?
Upon looking closer, I could see that there was a torn hole in my suit. This was possibly from the explosion the self destruction had caused, which was truly a shame. I wonder what “I” would have said to myself from another universe? How would that interaction go? Maybe this happened in another universe. Well, that universe was not ours, which was a shame.
I looked toward the edge, thinking how we could truly cross it. That’s when I saw it. A spaceship, exactly the same as mine. It was accelerating at full speed towards my ship, and it was far too late for me to avoid it. How the hell did the ship come over? Why was this happening? I was left with no choice, was I? I would have to abandon my ship on foot, and jump towards the end. That was the only way I could hope to survive. With tears in my eyes, I cut off my safety rope, and leaped to the uncertain beyond…
|
|
[WP] You, the lone astronaut on a research mission, have just discovered a dead astronaut while on a routine spacewalk. The kicker? The astronaut you just found is identical to you in every way.
|
The bright white light fades and real-space comes into view.
After the short burst of experimental FTL travel I was finally closing in on the Anomalous Nova Burst site. Thanks to this new engine, despite the signal having taken years to reach us, I arrived only an hour after we detected it. FTL and keeping track of time is a strange thing that people smarter than me fuss over so I tend to not worry about it.
This anomalous burst of energy output as much power as a supernova but was detected in a dead region of space where no stars have formed. That’s why I’m here, to get a lay of the land, and report back to command.
It appears the FTL exit point has brought me into some kind of debris field. Tiny flecks of shrapnel litter the starspace before me. Whatever happened here was devastating. The wreckage looks a lot like a satellite came into contact with a high velocity object, likely some sort of asteroid, and was completely annihilated. Either that or the power source was damaged and detonated, but small craft like that don’t have engines powerful enough to obliterate them and cause an explosion of such magnitude.
Something is wrong here.
I saw something, a bulky mass, floating outside the debris field. The thing is moving fast. Clearly, it was sent careening off into the void by the supernova. If only I could catch up to it…
Oh. My. God.
Looking out the viewport I could do nothing but hang there in complete and utter disbelief. Mouth agape, breath caught in my lungs, time came to a standstill as I saw it casually drift past.
It's a body, or at least the remnants of what was once a body. Most of the limbs are missing, as is a good portion of the abdomen. The exposed skin is charred and cracked like a burnt roast while being coated in a gentle crystalline layer of frozen fluid. The face is contorted, a final primal scream locked in place for eternity…wait a minute…is that?
…
It's…it’s me.
The corpse suspended in space before me is myself. How is this even possible? I don’t understand. How am I in here and out there at the same time? Is this some kind of test? A sick joke orchestrated by command to test the new FTL drive? If so, why do this? What purpose does this have?
There was no time to answer any questions as the proximity alarm sounded. My head snapped around to check the console, but it was too late. Another piece of debris had snuck up on me and was going too fast to avoid.
A thundering crash and screeching sheering metal was accompanied with the sudden rush of air as my ship was struck by the errant junk missile. I was promptly sucked out into space, clawing and gasping for air that wasn’t there. Panic set in as I pinwheeled away from the cleaved shuttle into the depths of infinity.
Death will come quickly; I can feel it. The freezing cold was so sharp and sudden I hadn’t the time to register it. The worst part was feeling my fluids boil away and the subsequent gas slowly balloon me. It will be over soon. Before I was allowed to slip peacefully into death, as my vision blurred and my eyes began to squash and flatten, I saw the exposed engine be ripped apart by more shrapnel.
An immense heat suddenly struck me. Space collapsed around me, crunched me down to less than the size of a single atom, and then exploded into the brightest white light I have ever seen.
|
I couldn't move. I couldn't think. All I could do was stare. Stare, out into familiar eyes as they stared, unblinking, unseeing, back at me through a clear visor.
I didn't understand.
His bulky, white spacesuit stood in stark contrast to the black rocky surface of Agriesta-7 far below us. A thick cable hooked into a strap on his chest tethered him to the rarely-used docking bay of my research satellite.
62 days I'd been up here, researching the potential of harvesting solar rays in this system, with no sign of anyone. But now, him.
I reached up and rotated a dial on my helmet 40 degrees or so, and my stomach lurched as my eyes refocused on the magnified image of his face now projected inside my visor.
Those brown eyes. The thick eyebrows, recently plucked. The stubble, which I could never quite grow into a full beard.
I blinked. The shine of recently applied chapstick was on his lips.
I licked my own lips, tasting the petroleum jelly.
After a moment, my curiosity finally overcame the disbelief and fear. I made my way across the short catwalk and punched my access codes into the airlock. After decompression and sanitization, I moved to the console, keeping my eyes on him through the 360 degree windows surrounding the cramped bridge. I had to know what was going on.
I opened the winch control software and felt the small satellite rumble beneath my feet as I gradually retracted the cable back towards the docking bay, bringing him with it. How long had he been there? I must have been so focused on my research that I didn't even notice his arrival. Something seemed off about that, though. I didn't use the winch. That cable hadn't been extended in months. I should've heard it, felt it, seen it when it'd been pulled out from the bay.
What *is* it? Is it dead? Why does it look like that?
*CRKKCRKKRKCKRKCRKKKCKRK-*
My thoughts are interrupted as the radio switches on and blasts at me with static. That damn old radio, Marco said he had it patched right up last time. I'll have to have a talk with him when I get back. I punch the volume knob to mute it. I start winching again, and look up.
It's gone.
I'd just looked down for a second, and now it's gone. The gray, metal cable floats aimlessly against the backdrop of Agriesta-7, oblivious to it all.
I can't breathe.
Something catches my eye: a reflection in the glass.
It's here, behind me.
It smiles.
|
|
[WP] You're a supervillain, and you've been feeling rather out of it lately, so you decide to take a walk on your day off. Your nemesis crashes down from the sky in front of you, with messed up clothes, asking if they can join you and chat a bit.
|
It was a rainy autumn day like any other - one where I lamented my inferiority to others, where I took a walk in the quiet, cold park, let the wind caress my face, feed the pigeons on the bench, making sure the smaller or hurt looking ones got their share of the meal. Ungifted with power in a world of supers, I never could have imagined that my fascinations with mechanisms and physics would put me at odds with them. It was always about aiding the ones they perceived as crippled, handicapped, inferior, but what they saw in my technology was always a threat. A threat not only to their superiority, to their ego, but also a threat to the invincible who were not used to having so many beings capable of harming them, even if only in self defence. The narratives they've spread and the laws they passed made me an outlaw. I'd like to say I didn't get into the villain business, the hatred of supers, the illegal trades out of selfish reasons, if you could believe that. But oh well, time flies, days go on and we all clash with something or someone on a daily basis, changing and growing and becoming our better selves. Sometimes literally.
I sighed. These thoughts haunt me all the time - perhaps I should seek therapy if any therapist could be in the same room and not run. I raise my right arm - a hunk of metal, wires, servos and sensors, made in the image of the one that got ripped of by Hunko-man, may he rest in peace, and brush back my overgrown, brown hair. How long since I've last had it cut I wonder? I let my arm slide down my weary face, over my sunken face and tap the metallic frame of my cyber-eye, a tender gift from Armadillo-woman. I feel my fingertips around the scars the blows my very normal, very fragile face has received from the powerful. Who would have thought that after having suffered so much violence and hatred from the lesser folk, after defeating them abd slowly growing my technological empire, I would be afraid of what comes tommorow. There is so much at stake, so much I have yet to do, there's still this conflict inside me that compels me to run. A few raindrops fall on my head and the nape of my neck. It tears me out of my head a little, but there's still so much planning, so much commitment, so much professional help I'm going to need to do my best - failing at this seemingly trivial task seems foolish yet I cannot resist this fear.
Clack! My right arm responds to a subtle discharge of static electricity, clenching into a fist befole relenting again. A soft caress of the wind playfully brushes my hair yet again. I cannot deny it any longer - it has become unbearable. "What is it, Ms. Thunder?" I turn around and set my gaze onto a woman in a tattered and torn robe, at least 27 years of age and years of fighting weighting down her face and body. Her white hair all messy and her lightning-blue eyes sparkling playfully, as they do. She chuckles and walks over to me - she seems years younger just when she makes that face We've fought day after day for a good half a decade and she was always mocking me, like right now. Controlling weather must get into your head. "Well actually!" she carefully and softly retors "It's going to be Mrs, soon. But I've a lot of my mind, and we've both come to our same spot - it's no good to ignore each other just because we've got nerves on our mind! Cheer up and let me tag along!", berating me for the doom and gloom I carry.
"You had it easy, flying way over here. I had to take a cab and deal with the traffic!" I mockingly accuse her, to which she gives me the meanest look she can produce suppressing laughter. "Well, I'll have you know flying is very difficult! And whatever, you can't gatekeep walking no matter how hard you try, you horrible tyrannical fiend." is her response, punctuating each of the last three words by poking her pointing finger into my chest. I freeze up a little - a touch of a hero - especially in their suit - still makes me shake. Oh so much pain and suffering and risks of death they used to cause me with a mere touch exactly like this. I must remind myself this is different. I sigh, genuinely surprised she'd call me that. "So what's with the outfit?" I ask, pointing to her wizard-like garments. "Nostalgia. Memories. I wanted to wear it one last time. Since they made your technology legal, I have less and less reasons to arrest you." she offers.
Arrest. A word I have mixed memories for. Some of my best ideas and moments came after being arrested, but also only later in life, when Speedguy and Bardbarian stopped crossing me and arrests became somewhat civil or even pleasant. "Ah, yes - memories... I do remember those arrests as fondly as I remember abducting you to build a weather control machine. It was somewhat funny when you later volunteered to help me build one." the memory makes me chuckle. She was so sheepish when she realised it was meant to ease natural disasters, not melt everyone on the surface of Earth or something simmilarly horrible.
"Well, look who's talking, Doctor creep-orgo! Arrests are not supposed to be fond memories, you dunce! This is why you need therapy!" she responds, smacking my shoulder gently, yet to me, it feels like a truck just ran through me. I remind myself there is no malice and no harm hidden in this playful violence, but I do freeze up for a moment. This time, she notices and apologetically hangs her head "Sorry... I want you to get better, not worse. Really." speaking softly and with a certain sadness to her voice. She seems to want to say more, to get stuck in the apologetic spiral her goodypants mind tends to visit, so I cut her off "No! No. I'm sorry, I still associate the more aggressive forms of touch with danger - it's a trigger I am still learning to cope with. I'm fine, though, really."
She looks up, then, and looks unto my eyes with a gaze that seeks truth, not comfort. It is a strict, yet soft gaze - one you give someone you've known for a really, really long time. Even when you know it, you can't defend yourself from its completely un-super power. You can't lie to the face she makes. "Really?" she asks. "Really." I answer. She then reaches out with her hand once more, this time caressing my unkept hair and sliding it off my face. "You have this, because you're overworked. How long until your barber appointment?" these words are accompanied with a melancholic, warm smile, stuck in thought. "Exactly two hours, fifty-three minutes and 40 seconds when I finish this sentence." I answer while she gets ever so closer to me, tiny step by tiny step. "Did you pick up the cake?" she asks, furrowing her eyebrows jokingly. "Yep." I grin and bend over slightly so our eyes get on the same level.
"Well, then we can take this walk and talk a little longer. Without the gloom - tommorow's a big, happy, carefree day, you big dummy."
"Indeed. I'll do my best, so shall we go look at the location of your first arrest of me, soon to be Mrs Cyborgo?"
|
He crashed down in front of me, his clothes torn and his hair a mess. It looked like he had just had the worst fight of his life. But with who? I had been his enemy for 4 years, I put every ounce of my energy into plotting to destroy this man and he couldn't even recognize me. We stared at each other, I put one foot back in case he attacked but I got nothing but a blank stare in return, he was at ease. Surely if I attacked fast enough I could destroy him but I couldn't bring myself to pounce. He kept staring at me as I reached out a hand. he took it and I helped him to his feet. "Walk with me," he said, in a calming voice. We wandered down the path in silence for what felt like hours, "Do you know who I am?" he asked.
"I do," I replied. I hesitate, "I see you on the news all the time." Could he see through my lie? Does he know who I am? Could he really not? A million questions bounce through my head but not a single one leaves my mouth.
"Why did you give me your hand?" he asked,
"Why did you take it?" I reply,
"I hadn't thought of that," he said with a slight laugh. Once again we walked in silence for a few moments before he said, "Well it's been nice to see you again," I stop in shock.
"You know who I am?" I ask,
"Of course, and I'm glad to finally have a moment of peace with you. Goodbye Jay," he says fondly, "Politely, I do hope I don't see you again." I stare at the trees for just a moment and turn back to him. But he's gone.
&#x200B;
(Editors Note: I haven't done much writing like this before, if you have any tips to improve please let me know.)
|
|
There have been many events throughout our history that have changed the world. In only 100 words, send the news to the world about one such event! Real or imagined, it's up to you! One month of Reddit Gold to the submission with the most votes. You have 24 hours. GO!
(In the event of a tie it will come down to which submission I like the best, hope that works for everyone!)
**EDIT: We have a winner! After 24 hours Branmuffinavenger won the gold!**
|
[FF] [PRIZE] 100 words and 24 hours. An email that changes everything
|
RE: July 10, 2012
July 11, 2012.
1:04 A.M.
No, Bill. The helicopter burned down.
Everything’s burning down.
I’m not going to make it this time, Bill.
I think nobody's going to make it.
Good bye, Bill.
---
>July 10, 2012
>
>11:49 P.M.
>
>Everything’s set.
>
>Everything’s ready.
>
>The white house is going to blow. The water has been infected. Cities are going to burn.
>
>Everything’s going at midnight.
>
>I’m sorry, John.
>
>I tried to tell you earlier. I couldn't. No one can stop it. It has started.
>
>You must hurry. You can still make it.
>
>I’m sorry. . .
>
>Good night, John.
>
>
|
Turmoil and tragedy are no strangers to the heart of humanity. Since our first steps out of dust and ruin, we have overcome their efforts.
On August 2nd, 2012 a lethal outbreak occurred in the town of Raccoon City, Maryland. Quarantine was set up immediately to seal said virus, but our relentless efforts returned unrewarded. I regrettably announce that this epidemic is likely to spread throughout the entirety of the United States within a week’s time.
Nation, do not lose your fighting spirit in the face of this tragedy. We have overcome much before, and we will overcome more still.
|
There have been many events throughout our history that have changed the world. In only 100 words, send the news to the world about one such event! Real or imagined, it's up to you! One month of Reddit Gold to the submission with the most votes. You have 24 hours. GO!
(In the event of a tie it will come down to which submission I like the best, hope that works for everyone!)
**EDIT: We have a winner! After 24 hours Branmuffinavenger won the gold!**
|
[FF] [PRIZE] 100 words and 24 hours. An email that changes everything
|
Congrats buddy! Really happy for you all. Missed you at the Saturnalia feast, but I guess you had a good excuse, heh.
Here's to life everlasting!!1!
-Zeus
On January 1, year 1, God wrote:
>
> Dear friends,
>
> Mary and I are overjoyed to welcome our new son to the world I created. Jesus H. Christ was born at 10:28pm on December 25th. His glorious arrival was met with rejoicing by man and beast alike. Mother and baby are resting comfortably at a manger in an undisclosed location.
> God bless you all.
> Sincerely,
> God himself
>
|
Turmoil and tragedy are no strangers to the heart of humanity. Since our first steps out of dust and ruin, we have overcome their efforts.
On August 2nd, 2012 a lethal outbreak occurred in the town of Raccoon City, Maryland. Quarantine was set up immediately to seal said virus, but our relentless efforts returned unrewarded. I regrettably announce that this epidemic is likely to spread throughout the entirety of the United States within a week’s time.
Nation, do not lose your fighting spirit in the face of this tragedy. We have overcome much before, and we will overcome more still.
|
There have been many events throughout our history that have changed the world. In only 100 words, send the news to the world about one such event! Real or imagined, it's up to you! One month of Reddit Gold to the submission with the most votes. You have 24 hours. GO!
(In the event of a tie it will come down to which submission I like the best, hope that works for everyone!)
**EDIT: We have a winner! After 24 hours Branmuffinavenger won the gold!**
|
[FF] [PRIZE] 100 words and 24 hours. An email that changes everything
|
Sunidhi,
We're okay. Am in Poughkeepsie, 2 hours north of city -- before storm -- now it took 12 days to come.
Brooklyn is gone. What tsunami didn't wash away, rioters took. What they didn't take, they burned.
I've seen the worst of humanity these last few weeks. Two things I will never forget as long as I live: the sight of crabs, hundreds of thousands of them, feasting on human bodies in downtown Manhattan, and small children fighting a bloody battle over a piece of candy found under the rubble. =-(
Will write again soon if current stays up.
best,
Rohan
|
Turmoil and tragedy are no strangers to the heart of humanity. Since our first steps out of dust and ruin, we have overcome their efforts.
On August 2nd, 2012 a lethal outbreak occurred in the town of Raccoon City, Maryland. Quarantine was set up immediately to seal said virus, but our relentless efforts returned unrewarded. I regrettably announce that this epidemic is likely to spread throughout the entirety of the United States within a week’s time.
Nation, do not lose your fighting spirit in the face of this tragedy. We have overcome much before, and we will overcome more still.
|
There have been many events throughout our history that have changed the world. In only 100 words, send the news to the world about one such event! Real or imagined, it's up to you! One month of Reddit Gold to the submission with the most votes. You have 24 hours. GO!
(In the event of a tie it will come down to which submission I like the best, hope that works for everyone!)
**EDIT: We have a winner! After 24 hours Branmuffinavenger won the gold!**
|
[FF] [PRIZE] 100 words and 24 hours. An email that changes everything
|
June 2005
Dear Steve,
I have an idea. A brilliant idea.
We should make a site where content from all over the web will be gathered in one place.
In short, we should make the front page to the internet.
It has never been done before. Our time is now.
Alexis Ohanian
|
Turmoil and tragedy are no strangers to the heart of humanity. Since our first steps out of dust and ruin, we have overcome their efforts.
On August 2nd, 2012 a lethal outbreak occurred in the town of Raccoon City, Maryland. Quarantine was set up immediately to seal said virus, but our relentless efforts returned unrewarded. I regrettably announce that this epidemic is likely to spread throughout the entirety of the United States within a week’s time.
Nation, do not lose your fighting spirit in the face of this tragedy. We have overcome much before, and we will overcome more still.
|
There have been many events throughout our history that have changed the world. In only 100 words, send the news to the world about one such event! Real or imagined, it's up to you! One month of Reddit Gold to the submission with the most votes. You have 24 hours. GO!
(In the event of a tie it will come down to which submission I like the best, hope that works for everyone!)
**EDIT: We have a winner! After 24 hours Branmuffinavenger won the gold!**
|
[FF] [PRIZE] 100 words and 24 hours. An email that changes everything
|
RE: July 10, 2012
July 11, 2012.
1:04 A.M.
No, Bill. The helicopter burned down.
Everything’s burning down.
I’m not going to make it this time, Bill.
I think nobody's going to make it.
Good bye, Bill.
---
>July 10, 2012
>
>11:49 P.M.
>
>Everything’s set.
>
>Everything’s ready.
>
>The white house is going to blow. The water has been infected. Cities are going to burn.
>
>Everything’s going at midnight.
>
>I’m sorry, John.
>
>I tried to tell you earlier. I couldn't. No one can stop it. It has started.
>
>You must hurry. You can still make it.
>
>I’m sorry. . .
>
>Good night, John.
>
>
|
"Harry is fine."
So claimed one White House official in response to allegations that President Truman's use of a nuclear bomb against Japan last night was the result of him going crazy.
Physicists at MIT: the bomb devastates future generations, but there’s a chance of being born with two penises.
“When you think about it, that’s pretty cool,” noted one scientist who wished to remain unnamed.
Several reporters have observed Mr. Truman walking himself on a leash and barking. Officials assure us these events are unrelated to last night’s security incident, when pedestrians saw flashing lights above the White House.
|
There have been many events throughout our history that have changed the world. In only 100 words, send the news to the world about one such event! Real or imagined, it's up to you! One month of Reddit Gold to the submission with the most votes. You have 24 hours. GO!
(In the event of a tie it will come down to which submission I like the best, hope that works for everyone!)
**EDIT: We have a winner! After 24 hours Branmuffinavenger won the gold!**
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[FF] [PRIZE] 100 words and 24 hours. An email that changes everything
|
Congrats buddy! Really happy for you all. Missed you at the Saturnalia feast, but I guess you had a good excuse, heh.
Here's to life everlasting!!1!
-Zeus
On January 1, year 1, God wrote:
>
> Dear friends,
>
> Mary and I are overjoyed to welcome our new son to the world I created. Jesus H. Christ was born at 10:28pm on December 25th. His glorious arrival was met with rejoicing by man and beast alike. Mother and baby are resting comfortably at a manger in an undisclosed location.
> God bless you all.
> Sincerely,
> God himself
>
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"Harry is fine."
So claimed one White House official in response to allegations that President Truman's use of a nuclear bomb against Japan last night was the result of him going crazy.
Physicists at MIT: the bomb devastates future generations, but there’s a chance of being born with two penises.
“When you think about it, that’s pretty cool,” noted one scientist who wished to remain unnamed.
Several reporters have observed Mr. Truman walking himself on a leash and barking. Officials assure us these events are unrelated to last night’s security incident, when pedestrians saw flashing lights above the White House.
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There have been many events throughout our history that have changed the world. In only 100 words, send the news to the world about one such event! Real or imagined, it's up to you! One month of Reddit Gold to the submission with the most votes. You have 24 hours. GO!
(In the event of a tie it will come down to which submission I like the best, hope that works for everyone!)
**EDIT: We have a winner! After 24 hours Branmuffinavenger won the gold!**
|
[FF] [PRIZE] 100 words and 24 hours. An email that changes everything
|
Sunidhi,
We're okay. Am in Poughkeepsie, 2 hours north of city -- before storm -- now it took 12 days to come.
Brooklyn is gone. What tsunami didn't wash away, rioters took. What they didn't take, they burned.
I've seen the worst of humanity these last few weeks. Two things I will never forget as long as I live: the sight of crabs, hundreds of thousands of them, feasting on human bodies in downtown Manhattan, and small children fighting a bloody battle over a piece of candy found under the rubble. =-(
Will write again soon if current stays up.
best,
Rohan
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"Harry is fine."
So claimed one White House official in response to allegations that President Truman's use of a nuclear bomb against Japan last night was the result of him going crazy.
Physicists at MIT: the bomb devastates future generations, but there’s a chance of being born with two penises.
“When you think about it, that’s pretty cool,” noted one scientist who wished to remain unnamed.
Several reporters have observed Mr. Truman walking himself on a leash and barking. Officials assure us these events are unrelated to last night’s security incident, when pedestrians saw flashing lights above the White House.
|
There have been many events throughout our history that have changed the world. In only 100 words, send the news to the world about one such event! Real or imagined, it's up to you! One month of Reddit Gold to the submission with the most votes. You have 24 hours. GO!
(In the event of a tie it will come down to which submission I like the best, hope that works for everyone!)
**EDIT: We have a winner! After 24 hours Branmuffinavenger won the gold!**
|
[FF] [PRIZE] 100 words and 24 hours. An email that changes everything
|
Sunidhi,
We're okay. Am in Poughkeepsie, 2 hours north of city -- before storm -- now it took 12 days to come.
Brooklyn is gone. What tsunami didn't wash away, rioters took. What they didn't take, they burned.
I've seen the worst of humanity these last few weeks. Two things I will never forget as long as I live: the sight of crabs, hundreds of thousands of them, feasting on human bodies in downtown Manhattan, and small children fighting a bloody battle over a piece of candy found under the rubble. =-(
Will write again soon if current stays up.
best,
Rohan
|
....with a slight touch of the bone, a fracture will occur.
I've only begun to fight the disease, but I can tell this pseudo-epidemic our society has conveyed will soon eradicate the weak, and infect the strong. The dilapidated corners of the Earth will break and crumble. Chaos will be created among those who survive.
For those left able to stand, life will remain only as a torture device. The ability to withstand pain from the ever-shattering human structure will die.
I should have stopped myself.
I'm sorry.
|
There have been many events throughout our history that have changed the world. In only 100 words, send the news to the world about one such event! Real or imagined, it's up to you! One month of Reddit Gold to the submission with the most votes. You have 24 hours. GO!
(In the event of a tie it will come down to which submission I like the best, hope that works for everyone!)
**EDIT: We have a winner! After 24 hours Branmuffinavenger won the gold!**
|
[FF] [PRIZE] 100 words and 24 hours. An email that changes everything
|
June 2005
Dear Steve,
I have an idea. A brilliant idea.
We should make a site where content from all over the web will be gathered in one place.
In short, we should make the front page to the internet.
It has never been done before. Our time is now.
Alexis Ohanian
|
....with a slight touch of the bone, a fracture will occur.
I've only begun to fight the disease, but I can tell this pseudo-epidemic our society has conveyed will soon eradicate the weak, and infect the strong. The dilapidated corners of the Earth will break and crumble. Chaos will be created among those who survive.
For those left able to stand, life will remain only as a torture device. The ability to withstand pain from the ever-shattering human structure will die.
I should have stopped myself.
I'm sorry.
|
[WP] The Bermuda Triangle is now close due to maintenance. All intergalactic travelers please visit the nearest Ancient Wonder. For Time travelers, please visit Stonehenge. We apologies for the inconvenience.
|
Rob giggled as he hung the sign on a wall by the beach. Someone was sure to get a laugh from another one of his local practical jokes.
He didn’t expect the sudden smack to the back of his head. He fell to the ground, but was quickly hauled up to his feet by the stranger who hit him. A tall man, seven feet to be exact, held Rob with one hand and pulled the sign off the wall with the other. He held the sign close to Rob’s face and said,
“You have no idea the panic you’ve caused. Do this again, and you’ll know how, but not when or where you die.”
Rob fell to the ground as the man walked away with the sign. The man pushed a button on his wrist, and popped out of existence.
Rob pulled a duplicate sign from his coat, and hung it on the other side of the wall.
The following Thursday, Stonehenge disappeared. It would be several years after the complete mapping of the ocean floor before it would be discovered in the Bermuda Triangle.
By all official accounts, Rob was not at fault. The sign that initially lead to the catastrophe was safely stored in a file cabinet. This would be declared a fixed point in time, unavoidable at all costs. The intergalactic death toll was unfathomable, as was the sudden decrease in time travelers born after the year 4039.
Rob’s video of people reacting to the sign received 4039 views on YouTube before his account was deleted due to a copyright claim.
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I groaned.
"This is the fourth time this week!"
My mom laughed. "That's what you get for booking your ticket right away."
I glared at her. And she meet me with a glare more terrifying than my own. Ok mom, you win. I thought. But I didnt know what to do.
"May as well call Amy."
I looked for her contact pressing it and hearing her loud voice. "Hey!"
I winced. Jeez she is loud. "Hey there. Can we maybe go to the Stonehenge?"
I heard her laugh and then she said that the Stonehenge is also closed as a child got lost.
Now what?
"Oh!"
"If it's that damn triangle I will kill you then resurrect you to kill you again if you bought a damn ticket."
Silence.
"GET YOUR ASS-"
"IM SORRY-"
|
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[WP] The hero looks at you shocked and disgusted. "So... your plan is to make a... giant meatball out of every single person on earth...?" Scratching their head they frown and ask, "But, why?"
|
"Why not?"
The hero looks at you. Confused, flabbergasted, disgusted. You can't tell what he's thinking, but you can taste all the emotions that go through the train of thought.
"Because it's madness," he says.
You shrug.
"Perhaps. But many great ideas start as madness."
"No, many great ideas start with creativity and ingenuity. That plan of yours? That is textbook madness."
"It is creative an ingenious," you answer. Quite literally, clapping back.
"Is this a game to you?" The hero asks, unable to keep in his amusing frustration at bay.
"Very much, yes. I quite like it. Today, I'll make a meatball. Tomorrow, perhaps it'll use every bird and bird egg that exists to make mayo. Next week, I'll use all plants that are alive to make some bread. Then next month, I'll assemble my gigantic and majestic gigantanormonous meatball sandwich."
"You are insane."
"Yes. But in my defense, I'm a ver insane creatively ingenious child."
"You're not a child," the hero snaps. "Your a grown ass person that doesn't seems to understand what the fuck they're doing."
"That's why you love fighting me," you sing. You giggle as you twirl around. You taunt him. "You just love beating me up for my crazy brilliant plans and locking me in the asylum. Then you wait for me to break out, crazier than when I went in. I'm only playing our game."
"This isn't a game!" The hero screams. "You are a danger to society and to yourself."
"And whose fault is that? Mine or my mother's? Mine or the asylum's? Mine or yours? Madness isn't hereditary, you see. It's causational. It's made by people who want you to go mad."
The hero looks at you blankly. He's disconnected himself from your first encounter. What began it all.
You were a grieving and in pain. You had nobody. You were lost. You were alone. You were desperate. You were dying. You still are dying. You've died. You've been dead for far too long.
You just wanted to end it all. But the hero approached you at the top of the building. He spoke to you. He consoled you. He dragged you away from the edge of the building. He cleaned your tears and hugged you. Whispered that everything would be alright. That you're safe. That the worst had already happened and tomorrow would just get brighter and brighter and brighter...
Then, because you had no one to turn for support or help, because you were homeless and lost, they sent you to the asylum.
You were surrounded by a sea of desperation and despair. You heard the screams each morning, each night and every afternoon. The staff wasn't there to help you.
They were there to keep you isolated.
So you scaped. You scaped and tried to run away. You attempted to rob a store, with nothing but a rusty knife you found in the trash somewhere. You were locked and returned to the asylum. No matter how much you had plead, your cries to not return to that place we're ignored. They had deemed you 'clinically insane'. A 'danger to everyone, including yourself'.
They tried everything to keep you calm and complacent. They drugged you. They shocked you. They locked you with no lights, water or food. They were vigilant while you showered. They forced you to be vulnerable, just to torture you with your deepest secrets.
So you kept running away. And they kept returning you there. Everyone of your attempts got more elaborated and extravagant and, yes, insane.
Because that's what they were doing. They were making you go mad. With each shock they gave you, they would repeat one phrase:
"You are insane," they would whisper in your ear. "You are dangerous to yourself. You need help. We are here to help you."
You knew it was bullshit, buy yet, you couldn't help yourself. The lie you were told became a reality that kept you trapped in your worst nightmare.
You became crazy. Turned a danger to everyone including yourself. And it wasn't a small threat of violence, like murder a seller or attack a person and beat them to a pulp. It was elaborate threats. The more elaborated being the gigantic human meatball.
The hero still stares you down from where he's standing. You keep the gaze until you can't take it anymore.
You break down.
You're, once again, that sea of desperation, pain and maddening loneliness you were before your life got worse.
"Kill me," you croak. Your eyes soaked in tears. You're standing oh so close to the edge of the massive meat grinder you built for your crazy plan.
The hero just keeps staring at you. The disgust and anger long gone. Slowly, he approaches you.
"It's okay," he says as he drags you away from the edge. "You're gonna be okay."
He takes you back to the asylum.
You are not safe.
|
"Where did you even get wind of this plan? One of my crew squeal on me? Was it Johnny tight lips? I bet it was him. Always yappin'." None of the coppers had given me a straight answer during the long interrogation, so they brought in their errand boy, Mr. Amazo. The golden god of the city, a real boy scout. We'd had our run-ins before, but nothing like this. Mr. Amazo looked confused, it was out of character.
"Stop trying to deflect the question Butcher! I looked into your financials, you've been buying a lot of industrial sized meat grinders, along with spices and tomato sauce in bulk. The police have already confiscated them for evidence. You're going away for a long time, just tell me why? Why a human meatball?" Mr. Amazo slammed his hands on the metal table, leaving behind large dents.
I shook my head, Mr. Amazo may be super fast and strong, but super intelligence was not part of his repertoire. "You got it all wrong, I'm going legit. Gonna get into that business where you make meat out of vegetables. People are tryin to eat healthier nowadays. Figured I could make a quick buck. The human meatball thing was just a joke, part of the brainstorming session I had with the underlings about our new business venture."
Before I could say another word Mr. Amazo grasped me by the collar of my butcher's smock and slammed me against the wall, breaking the handcuffs and flipping the table in the process. "You expect me to believe that Braylene the Butcher is going legitimate? Leave the jokes to The Jester, you're going to be in the cell next to him. I'll make sure of that."
I kissed Mr. Amazo on the nose, he always liked that. I think he has a thing for me. "That's cruel and unusual punishment, never gonna happen. Can't a girl start a small business in this town without everyone thinking I'm up to something? I ain't carved up nobody in years, last one was your sidekick if I remember correctly. What was his name again?"
I was tossed across the room like I was yesterday's garbage. Mr. Amazo yelled in anguish as he bent the metal table in half. Must have touched a nerve with that one. I smiled at him, he glared back.
"You're filth Butcher! Stop lying to me! How were you going to do it? Grind them up alive!? Use the meatball as some biological weapon!? ANSWER ME!" Mr. Amazo punched a hole through the one way mirror, the coppers on the other side spilled their coffee and doughnuts. I helped myself to a glazed doughnut, little stale.
"Do you cook?" I asked as I chomped on the doughnut.
"No, solar radiation sustains me. Everyone knows that."
"No wonder you fell for it then. Do you know how much effort it would take to make a meatball like that? The amount of eggs and breadcrumbs I would need for stabilizers. It would be impossible to get the spices right. Where am I gonna find a stove that big to finish cooking it in the sauce? What would I do with the bones? Make the world's biggest pot of stock to go along with the world's biggest meatball? I know my rights, you can't keep me here much longer. Now there ain't no clocks in here but it should be happening right about now." Hopefully the boys followed my instructions like I told them to.
"What are you rambling about?" Mr. Amazo demanded. I laughed in his face.
"You coppers want to turn on the news in there?" I politely asked the boys in blue on the other side of the shattered window. They turned on a small tv, their eyes widened. With lightning speed Mr. Amazo was watching along with them.
A look of fear and anger crossed Mr. Amazo's face, he turned up the volume so I could hear.
"Breaking news coming from downtown, police forces are engaged with a mob of protestors heading towards central lockup. The protestors are all dressed in meatball costumes. Our eye in the sky helicopter is providing the footage you see here......." The newsfeed cut off.
I poked my head through the glass. "I forgot to mention something, Putrid Paula let me use some of her mind control dust, dumped in the reservoir this mornin. You might want to go take care of that, it's only gonna get worse. Should have been more clear, not gonna turn everybody into one big meatball, gonna turn everyone into their own meatball, and I'm the cook plating out the spaghetti."
Mr. Amazo flew out through the ceiling. The coppers let me go, they were already under my control. Once my meat minions multiplied, I was gonna have seven billion loyal customers, I was set for life. Mr. Amazo would be under my thumb eventually. The rioting city streets sang the song of profits.
|
|
[WP] The hero looks at you shocked and disgusted. "So... your plan is to make a... giant meatball out of every single person on earth...?" Scratching their head they frown and ask, "But, why?"
|
"Why not?"
The hero looks at you. Confused, flabbergasted, disgusted. You can't tell what he's thinking, but you can taste all the emotions that go through the train of thought.
"Because it's madness," he says.
You shrug.
"Perhaps. But many great ideas start as madness."
"No, many great ideas start with creativity and ingenuity. That plan of yours? That is textbook madness."
"It is creative an ingenious," you answer. Quite literally, clapping back.
"Is this a game to you?" The hero asks, unable to keep in his amusing frustration at bay.
"Very much, yes. I quite like it. Today, I'll make a meatball. Tomorrow, perhaps it'll use every bird and bird egg that exists to make mayo. Next week, I'll use all plants that are alive to make some bread. Then next month, I'll assemble my gigantic and majestic gigantanormonous meatball sandwich."
"You are insane."
"Yes. But in my defense, I'm a ver insane creatively ingenious child."
"You're not a child," the hero snaps. "Your a grown ass person that doesn't seems to understand what the fuck they're doing."
"That's why you love fighting me," you sing. You giggle as you twirl around. You taunt him. "You just love beating me up for my crazy brilliant plans and locking me in the asylum. Then you wait for me to break out, crazier than when I went in. I'm only playing our game."
"This isn't a game!" The hero screams. "You are a danger to society and to yourself."
"And whose fault is that? Mine or my mother's? Mine or the asylum's? Mine or yours? Madness isn't hereditary, you see. It's causational. It's made by people who want you to go mad."
The hero looks at you blankly. He's disconnected himself from your first encounter. What began it all.
You were a grieving and in pain. You had nobody. You were lost. You were alone. You were desperate. You were dying. You still are dying. You've died. You've been dead for far too long.
You just wanted to end it all. But the hero approached you at the top of the building. He spoke to you. He consoled you. He dragged you away from the edge of the building. He cleaned your tears and hugged you. Whispered that everything would be alright. That you're safe. That the worst had already happened and tomorrow would just get brighter and brighter and brighter...
Then, because you had no one to turn for support or help, because you were homeless and lost, they sent you to the asylum.
You were surrounded by a sea of desperation and despair. You heard the screams each morning, each night and every afternoon. The staff wasn't there to help you.
They were there to keep you isolated.
So you scaped. You scaped and tried to run away. You attempted to rob a store, with nothing but a rusty knife you found in the trash somewhere. You were locked and returned to the asylum. No matter how much you had plead, your cries to not return to that place we're ignored. They had deemed you 'clinically insane'. A 'danger to everyone, including yourself'.
They tried everything to keep you calm and complacent. They drugged you. They shocked you. They locked you with no lights, water or food. They were vigilant while you showered. They forced you to be vulnerable, just to torture you with your deepest secrets.
So you kept running away. And they kept returning you there. Everyone of your attempts got more elaborated and extravagant and, yes, insane.
Because that's what they were doing. They were making you go mad. With each shock they gave you, they would repeat one phrase:
"You are insane," they would whisper in your ear. "You are dangerous to yourself. You need help. We are here to help you."
You knew it was bullshit, buy yet, you couldn't help yourself. The lie you were told became a reality that kept you trapped in your worst nightmare.
You became crazy. Turned a danger to everyone including yourself. And it wasn't a small threat of violence, like murder a seller or attack a person and beat them to a pulp. It was elaborate threats. The more elaborated being the gigantic human meatball.
The hero still stares you down from where he's standing. You keep the gaze until you can't take it anymore.
You break down.
You're, once again, that sea of desperation, pain and maddening loneliness you were before your life got worse.
"Kill me," you croak. Your eyes soaked in tears. You're standing oh so close to the edge of the massive meat grinder you built for your crazy plan.
The hero just keeps staring at you. The disgust and anger long gone. Slowly, he approaches you.
"It's okay," he says as he drags you away from the edge. "You're gonna be okay."
He takes you back to the asylum.
You are not safe.
|
“We’ll you see ‘hero’ I have a plate of spaghetti but they don’t make big enough meatballs for it cause apparently theres not enough meat in the world. So I said ‘sure there is’ and here we are” The hero looked puzzled like my explanation wasn’t good or reasonable. “Look, I’m a titan. That’s a whole different species, if I’m able to it makes sense for me to eat a bunch of humans as an accessory to my food.” The hero stopped for a second. “Your making a meatball out of humans” I nodded. “Okay your thinking of it as disgusting cause you yourself are a human but please note that I did leave a bunch of humans still intact so they can still repopulate and humans were already way to overpopulated so I’m doing a good thing.” They stared at my food nose turned back in disgust. “Why aren’t I part of ‘it’ then?” I let out a hollowed laugh. “Your one of the only mortals who know of my existence, where would be the fun in that? Now I’m getting hungry and I think it’s about time for you to leave.” They just stood there, obviously thinking. “Leave” they scattered off and down my mountain.
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[WP] The hero looks at you shocked and disgusted. "So... your plan is to make a... giant meatball out of every single person on earth...?" Scratching their head they frown and ask, "But, why?"
|
I sat there, pondering the question.
"But Im done already. Or, uh, I mean, you're the last one."
Her face drained of blood, "The... you... The Guild *just told me about this*. You did this in a matter of minutes? Why did you do this? Why!? Wh-"
She screamed gutturally as I began to crush her into the massive meatball with the rest. At least that was kinda funny.
I got to thinking again; Why DID I want to create a massive human meatball? I had an idea just moments ago and now I cant recall what I was going to do... Stupid distracting hero.
I looked up at the massive misshapen mass of bloody limbs and flesh Id crushed together, and scratched my head with a viscera encrusted hand.
"Well, I can't remember now that you ask. Not that answering you has any point."
Time to start over. Next time I should end them as soon as they start polluting... Alternatively I could optimize Octopi further... Hmmm...
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“We’ll you see ‘hero’ I have a plate of spaghetti but they don’t make big enough meatballs for it cause apparently theres not enough meat in the world. So I said ‘sure there is’ and here we are” The hero looked puzzled like my explanation wasn’t good or reasonable. “Look, I’m a titan. That’s a whole different species, if I’m able to it makes sense for me to eat a bunch of humans as an accessory to my food.” The hero stopped for a second. “Your making a meatball out of humans” I nodded. “Okay your thinking of it as disgusting cause you yourself are a human but please note that I did leave a bunch of humans still intact so they can still repopulate and humans were already way to overpopulated so I’m doing a good thing.” They stared at my food nose turned back in disgust. “Why aren’t I part of ‘it’ then?” I let out a hollowed laugh. “Your one of the only mortals who know of my existence, where would be the fun in that? Now I’m getting hungry and I think it’s about time for you to leave.” They just stood there, obviously thinking. “Leave” they scattered off and down my mountain.
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|
[WP] The hero looks at you shocked and disgusted. "So... your plan is to make a... giant meatball out of every single person on earth...?" Scratching their head they frown and ask, "But, why?"
|
"Because... I... They... Um..."
Thunderchord sighed, sparks trailing from his hand as he pinched the bridge of his nose. "The thought popped in your head and you ran with it without ever once thinking about whether it was a good or even a helpful idea. Come on, Nigel, we've talked about this. You were doing so well. Your last three schemes had a purpose that wasn't just trying to see if it can be done. Yes, people can be crushed int giant meatballs, but why should you be the one to do it? How will this benefit you or anyone else?"
"This was a bad idea, wasn't it?"
"A very bad idea. Have you been talking to your psychiatrist about how to handle these kinds of thoughts?"
Nigel nodded sheepishly. "I thought I was doing really well. It should be easier than this, but the ideas always seem so normal and important until you find me and ask why, but it's like I can't even see that it's MSI until then. Even the other heroes who just come in and start tearing things apart don't snap me out of the fugue."
"You are doing well. You're still trying. That's more than we can say about most of the super geniuses who develop Mad Scientist Impulse. And look, you haven't actually hurt anyone yet, not this time. And you mostly stayed Nigel and didn't go into your Science Guy persona."
"That's true enough. Thanks, Thunderchord. Would you mind, if you're not too busy, that is, um... Would you mind helping me dismantle all this? And help get the people my drones kidnapped back where they belong? And maybe being moral support while I call my sponsor and my therapist and my parole officer?"
"Of course. I'd be a terrible hero if I flew away once the drama was done."
|
“We’ll you see ‘hero’ I have a plate of spaghetti but they don’t make big enough meatballs for it cause apparently theres not enough meat in the world. So I said ‘sure there is’ and here we are” The hero looked puzzled like my explanation wasn’t good or reasonable. “Look, I’m a titan. That’s a whole different species, if I’m able to it makes sense for me to eat a bunch of humans as an accessory to my food.” The hero stopped for a second. “Your making a meatball out of humans” I nodded. “Okay your thinking of it as disgusting cause you yourself are a human but please note that I did leave a bunch of humans still intact so they can still repopulate and humans were already way to overpopulated so I’m doing a good thing.” They stared at my food nose turned back in disgust. “Why aren’t I part of ‘it’ then?” I let out a hollowed laugh. “Your one of the only mortals who know of my existence, where would be the fun in that? Now I’m getting hungry and I think it’s about time for you to leave.” They just stood there, obviously thinking. “Leave” they scattered off and down my mountain.
|
|
[WP] The hero looks at you shocked and disgusted. "So... your plan is to make a... giant meatball out of every single person on earth...?" Scratching their head they frown and ask, "But, why?"
|
"Because... I... They... Um..."
Thunderchord sighed, sparks trailing from his hand as he pinched the bridge of his nose. "The thought popped in your head and you ran with it without ever once thinking about whether it was a good or even a helpful idea. Come on, Nigel, we've talked about this. You were doing so well. Your last three schemes had a purpose that wasn't just trying to see if it can be done. Yes, people can be crushed int giant meatballs, but why should you be the one to do it? How will this benefit you or anyone else?"
"This was a bad idea, wasn't it?"
"A very bad idea. Have you been talking to your psychiatrist about how to handle these kinds of thoughts?"
Nigel nodded sheepishly. "I thought I was doing really well. It should be easier than this, but the ideas always seem so normal and important until you find me and ask why, but it's like I can't even see that it's MSI until then. Even the other heroes who just come in and start tearing things apart don't snap me out of the fugue."
"You are doing well. You're still trying. That's more than we can say about most of the super geniuses who develop Mad Scientist Impulse. And look, you haven't actually hurt anyone yet, not this time. And you mostly stayed Nigel and didn't go into your Science Guy persona."
"That's true enough. Thanks, Thunderchord. Would you mind, if you're not too busy, that is, um... Would you mind helping me dismantle all this? And help get the people my drones kidnapped back where they belong? And maybe being moral support while I call my sponsor and my therapist and my parole officer?"
"Of course. I'd be a terrible hero if I flew away once the drama was done."
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"For the same reason anyone does anything!" The god roared with rambunctious laughter, almost toppling over as he mocked the hero who questioned him, "Pure unadulterated BOREDOM." He paused for a moment before adding with a sly grin, "Totally didn't steal that one."
&#x200B;
The brave hero looked on in disgust and awe at the abuse of power before him. In shock from the total disregard for human and sentient life alike.
&#x200B;
"You're... sick!" He yelled angrily, prepared to launch into a impromptu speech, but was cut off with more laughter as the god summon a doctors outfit and a clipboard from thin air.
&#x200B;
"And I'm afraid it's terminal!" He shot back as another complete belly laugh escaped him. Suddenly his jovial demeanour disappeared as was replaced by a much more... deadly one. "Oh, and there is another reason."
&#x200B;
The seconds ticked on as the hero waited with baited breath, waiting for him to complete his sentence.
&#x200B;
"FUN!" He screamed out, with a splitting smile and laugh that could rival the entirety of a big top circus tent after a clown had a partially horrible accident.
&#x200B;
"You're kidding."
&#x200B;
"I thought I was sick." He replied.
&#x200B;
"Enough games, this ends now!" The hero yelled back, pulling the sword from his belt.
&#x200B;
"OooOooh! My favourite part!" The demented god chuckled, before lowering his grin and forming small lights of power in his hands.
&#x200B;
"Let's do this."
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[WP] You wake to sobbing. Looking over you see a giant 4 foot tall spider sobbing her eyes out in front of a mirror. "Hey, baby what's wrong?" She looks back at you, fear in her eyes. She gathers her nerve and says, "There's something I need to tell you."
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"Sure, baby. Anything. What's the matter?"
"I . . . I'm not pregnant."
"What?"
"I wanted to give you 2,500 daughters and 2,501 sons but . . . I think something's wrong with me." She sobbed some more. "All I wanted was to give birth and then lie down in my web and die in your eight arms, but instead . . . instead I have no living things inside me. My egg sac will be full of dud eggs. Nothing real. Can you ever forgive me? I thought when we got married we'd have children soon. I thought I was pregnant but I'm not. I might not ever be pregnant! Then what? I knew I should have devoured you after our mating! Maybe we just tried to defy our nature too much and this is Arachne's way of punishing us!"
"Hey, you're not the only giant spider here," I say. "I knew it was wrong to stay alive, too, but I'm thankful you let me. In my opinion, it's worth it."
"Our relationship was more than just sex for me. And . . . it's worth it to me, too."
"I love you."
"I love you, too."
"So what if we never have kids? You're the only arachnid for me!"
"Oh, baby . . . You've always been so kind."
"And, you know, it may not be you that's the problem. I might be the infertile one. And, it's not too late, if you want to eat me and move on to another husband."
"I would never. Who cares who is or isn't responsible? I want to be with you."
"And we could look into adoption. How many other 4-foot-tall spiders had children they can't raise?"
"Probably plenty. Oh, that'd be wonderful. Our cave is perfect for our children to grow up in!"
"There you go. So don't feel bad. We'll get through this just fine!"
"I love you."
"I love you, too."
And so we lied on our giant web in our giant cave and finally slept, dreaming of the day we would adopt 2,500 daughters and 2,501 sons.
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Sebastian awoke with a start but seeing that it was only his wife he relaxed. Sebastian noticed that She was crying in the mirror, growing concerned he asked what was wrong, Vanessa(his wife) looked back at Sebastian with her eight eyes bright and said "there is something I need to tell you." she inhales, exhales and continues " I am a spider I am not your wife, I never have been. I have eaten her and taken her place." Sebastien looked back at her"okay so, I have known for years you were a spider. How could I not, you always were a good seamstress and you are very good at folding laundry, also when you cut yourself you spilled water not to mention the fact that you look like a spider eight legs and all." Vanessa stares back in shock "wait you always knew?" "yep I found you eating my former wife who abused me you probably observed us in public, that's how you mannered yourself after her, sweet and loving on the outside. But if I found out she is a spider I would not be surprised. The only thing that made me think that you are not Vanessa is that you are way too nice to be her. I was beaten, and because I have schizophrenia I couldn't find a way out. Though now that I think of it you could be a hallucination." False Vanessa replied" oh my poor baby -------------
That is all I have inspiration for more to follow maybe
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[WP] Your fortress of doom has been completed, and it was really fun at the start, however nobody actually gets far enough to challenge you.
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Evil Lord Malthazar, fifth of his name, the ancient one, King of Despair, Monarch of the Damned, threw up his hands and rolled his eyes.
The images displayed in the crystal ball of seeing were once again disappointing.
“It’s just goblins,” he said, he ran a hand over his bald head and kept it there, eyes staring at the marble-tiled floor in disbelief, “How can they lose to something like goblins?”
A short demon attendant with a quick smile stood nearby, his horns stood at odd angles, “Adventurers not up your standards again, Lord Malthy?”
The demon adjusted his clothing, a full three-piece suit, slightly.
The Fortress of Doom that had been constructed by Lord Malthazar and his demonic companions had been impressive in all ways.
It had taken nearly a full thousand years to construct it.
Things had gone pretty quickly at first, but then … unions started getting involved and the demons required things like ‘Breaks’ and ‘Sleep’ and things had definitely slowed down after that.
He had to call all his minions to help in the construction of the Fortress of Doom and even then -- it took a thousand years.
“I mean, I know we only really opened up shop a few months ago,” said Malthazar, mostly to himself, “But I would’ve expected word to travel by now. Where are the heroes? Sword Saints? Grand magi? Sages?”
The demon attendant shrugged, “Perhaps they have more pressing matters elsewhere.”
Malthazar’s brow furrowed, “Mort, are we are spending enough on marketing, you think?”
The demon attendant named Mort nodded sagely, “We have sent shapeshifters to all corners of the realm to lament in excruciating detail about all the horrors and riches they’ve witnessed here.”
“Have you made sure that they mention the lava chambers on the seventieth floor?” asked Malthazar with an inch of doubt.
“I made sure to emphasize it, m’lord,” said Mort.
Malthazar grunted, then pondered, “Am I just not good enough? I mean, evil enough?”
”What do you think I should do to warrant an invasion by, by…” he began, then snapped his fingers a few times to jog his memory, “The Cardinal Heroes?”
“My lord,” said Mort, “I’m afraid those passed away roughly nine hundred years ago.”
“What!” cried Malthazar, “How can that be? Didn’t they kill Demon Lord Maxim?”
“Yes,” admitted Mort, “But they turned out to be painfully mortal, m’lord. Old age.”
“Amateurs. Don’t they know that the very first thing you chase down are the secrets to immortality?” said Malthazar, then sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, “The Iron Brigade, then?”
”Deceased,” replied Mort.
”The Holy Trinity?”
”Passed on.”
”The Eternal Swords?”
”Departed.”
”The Scarlet Knights?”
”Me.”
"You?"
"Mort."
Malthazar sneered, “What’s with these selfish heroes! Going around dying like that. What’d I even build this place for?” he cried, “They must’ve had disciples or something? Children that they passed their techniques onto?”
“Oh, yes,” said Mort with a quick smile, which then faded, “At first.”
”Regrettably their teachings have been lost to time as the years went by,” he added, "Or they've adopted a far inferior version."
"Why'd they do that?" asked Malthazar, it was all getting a bit much.
"Reports indicate that the ancient spells and methods were too difficult or took too long to master," answered Mort.
The Evil Lord shook his head in disbelief, “There’s dangers everywhere! How will they defend themselves?”
“I hate to inform you, m’lord, but the realm has been at peace for a long time,” replied Mort.
“What?” cried Malthazar, “Since when!?”
“More or less around a thousand years ago. Around the time you called back all your minions to aid in the construction of this very fortress, m’lord,” replied Mort.
Evil Lord Malthazar pressed his lips into a line, “I see,” he said, stifling a cough.
He turned his direction back to the crystal ball, “And if I were to release some of them back onto the world? A horde of goblins, perhaps?”
“Total annihilation, m’lord,” said Mort, “They haven’t the faintest idea on how to defend themselves. In fact, those getting battered by the minions on the first floor of your fortress are the finest the realm has to offer at this time.”
“Are you telling me that this entire realm has nobody in it that would even make it to the Noxious Swamps on the fifth floor?” said Malthazar, his voice laced with anger.
The Noxious Swamps were something he was particularly proud of.
They were filled with a certain kind of bug called a Sneerbeetle that would melt you from the inside out.
The demon that had invented these had received a pat on the back, a fancy jacket, and a shove into a padded prison cell.
You can’t have people like that walking the halls.
“I am saying,” said Mort, choosing his words carefully, “There is nobody in this realm that will even make it to the second floor.”
Malthazar blinked.
Mort, indulging his master and getting into the spirit of things, also blinked.
Malthazar clenched his fists until his knuckles turned pale, “MORT!” he roared.
“Five feet away, m’lord,” replied Mort.
“GRAB MY COAT,” cried Malthazar as he stomped towards the exit.
Mort snapped his fingers and a coat appeared, it reeked of mothballs, and he swung it over his arm as he hurried after his lord, “Where are we going, m’lord?” he said once he caught up.
“To the capital of Aria,” said Maltharzar, plucking the coat from Mort’s arm.
Slightly annoyed at having to ask the obvious follow-up question, Mort spoke, “And what are we going to do there, m’lord?”
“EDUCATION,” roared Malthazar.
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His hulking form stood expectantly at the end of a stone bridge designed to fall away at the first hint of being overcome. The magma flowing underneath casting an otherworldly glow on the chamber. Beyond this hall lay the prize. The idiot ruler of this realm. Unable to flee even though if she would simply open a door she could clamber down the side of his fortress.
His plan had finally come to fruition. A perilous journey to only the bravest of adventurers. And at the end? a match for his prowess and might. The odds were ever stacked in his favor but so it should be. Someone who could overcome him should not be his equal, but clearly his superior. The hero would have to overcome spike traps, falling floors, harder and harder enemies, endless pits, and otherworldly spirits. The whole of his realm had been prepared for it. Mobilizing his infantry, Air Force, and naval forces to oppose this hero. Only the best would be considered worthy.
Over time the malevolent grin on his face stood firm, then slackened, grew bored, then concerned. The magma still flowed but there was nothing to fight. No challenger to defeat in glorious combat. It had been months. Months of waiting. Of greasing traps and ensuring minions stayed in their place. Finally he ventured from his fortress to discover the root of the problem, and found most of the “heros” dead on the first traps. Their bodies ripped by the least of his mechanisms.
This would not do. If none could pass the simplest of his traps, how could he possibly ever be able to challenge a worthy opponent. For weeks he thought over it. Thought over it till one of the idiot minions said something that struck him deep in his soul. They said “too bad we can’t teach them.”
Yes. YES. He would build more castles. Easier castles. To train and to make more powerful opponents. Then they would become the challenge he desired. But how to make the simpletons redirect away from his current challenge? The answer couldn’t have been simpler. A rumor that the ruler was in one of the castles and have a hostage direct them to the next step, then the next. It was beautiful. In his Land of darkness and fire he had his underlings annex land from the other realms and build according to his desires. Then he would have his challenge. Then would be the glorious fight!
He began to hear rumors that his castles were being overtaken, not by the local population but by some interloper from a realm outside his experience. Again the plan was going wrong. No challenger from the worlds he knew was going to make an assault on his castle. But some hero from another world.
This could still be ok though. The fight would still be glorious. Perhaps even more so. The spikes affixed to his back quivered in anticipation. He heard the commotion outside the castle as the hero crashed though his defenses. He could nearly taste the excitement. The form of the hero began to separate from the shadows as he charged towards his ultimate demise. The game was on! Spouting fire and throwing pickaxes he leaped at the hero. But no, the hero dashed underneath and slammed the key holding the bridge in place, causing the whole of it to collapse into the molten rock underneath. He stood for a moment in thin air while the natural forces of gravity reasserted themselves. The last thought before his mind succumbed to the pain of the magma was the name of the hero. “Mario.”
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Inspired by one of the top comments on this video: https://youtu.be/wy5peXAywnE
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[WP] Decades ago you and your school friends were stuck in a time loop until you prevented the murder of your history teacher. Today you all reunite to visit him dying in the hospital... and find yourself back in that history class the moment he dies. The time loop never ended.
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It all started on that first, original loop. The one where our History teacher was killed in front of us, as he threw one of our classmates out of the way of an incoming vehicle. We watched as, instead of Graeme, the vehicle struck Mr. Ketterson and continued straight into the side of a building. Pinned to the wall, his abdomen crushed and the light fading from his eyes, a small group of us were near enough to hear his final lament:
"I wish I didn't have to die..."
The real shock was the sourceless reply:
"As you so desire!"
Since then, we've been caught in a loop. A loop that resets to that very morning, at morning attendance. It reset with the death of Mr. Ketterson. The 5 of us who heard his wish, and the ensuing response, recall the details of the prior loops. And it's fortunate we did, otherwise it would have gone on forever! As it stands, we've reset 17,653,821 times. In otherwords, Mr. Ketterson has died 17,653,821 times. Each time, we used our knowledge of each subsequent loop to avert each new death.
Sometimes, there'd be multiple causes of death in a single "day" (i.e. we would prevent one cause, just for some other tragedy to result in Mr. Ketterson's demise that same day, resetting the loop), while others we could go months without incident. The record was 2 years, 8 months, 3 days between saving him and the next incident.
Right at this moment, though, we are all gathered around Mr. Ketterson's - no, we moved past that a long time ago. We are gathered around Harold's hospital bed to say farewell. To him, it has been around 37 years since he saw Graeme walking into the path of a vehicle outside of school, and before he could react, Phil raced past and dragged Graeme back by his blazer. What followed must have been a strange 37 years of being continuously saved by one of the 5 of us. Each time, we'd explain everything; it became easier to convince him with each subsequent loop and the ever increasing "near-misses" he's experienced.
"Thank you, boys." He rasps, dragging my mind out of it's reverie and back to the present. His voice barely above a whisper, as we lean in to hear him. "You've done more than I can ever know for me. I could never repay you if I had infinite lives."
"It has been rough, but it has certainly been a unique experience for us," I joke, my voice strained with barely contained emotion as I gaze into the unseeing eyes of the man we've all helped reach the natural end of his life.
"You've all grown into fine men... Promise me one thing when I'm gone. Live for yourselves." He breathes as his eyes flutter shut. "I'm sorry. I'm so tired lately. I think... I'll just have... a little nap..."
His words trail off as his breathing softens and slows. Within a minute the machine attached to him to monitor his vitals lets out a sharp, shrill, prolonged beep to indicate his heart has stopped. The doctor in the room turns it off without emotion.
"Time of death: 1807, Tuesday October 25th 2022," he states, as he folds the sheets over the face of the now lifeless corpse of Harold Ketterson.
The 5 of us gathered all close our eyes and bow our heads in a final farewell.
I can actually feel the moment my sanity snaps when I open my eyes to see the back of Julian's head in the seat in front of me, Mr. Ketterson standing at the front of the class taking register, and it hits that the loop cannot be broken. The wish will not permit Mr. Ketterson to die, by *any* cause. And my mind instantly comes to the conclusion that an eternity of incomprehensibility is preferable to an eternity of pointless repetition.
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"No no no no no..." John continued muttering, slowly crouching as he gripped his hair tightly. "No. That was real!" The tears flowed freely. "Theresa was real. Bobby and Ashton and Riley and Sarah were real!" John gave Ian a crazed look that scared him.
John erupted in a fresh wave of sobs. Ian took a seat in one of the chairs and put his face in his hands, not wanting John to see his tears.
"I'm sorry, Theresa. I'm sorry. Why didn't I do more? Every day. Every day I felt like I was burdened, like I was slogging through mud. It was always so close to when I worked, or I just worked, or I was just tired, and I was always *so* tired, I think. Honestly, I don't even know if I was actually tired or struggling, or just a lazy, fat fuck." John stopped for a moment before regarding his left hand, staring at his fingers close. He rapidly breathed several hiccupy gasps, his chest bouncing up and down.
John gently twisted his pointer finger and thumb around his ring finger, as he had done for the previous twenty-seven years. He felt the fresh, young skin on his wrist, missing the tower of dates for his anniversary and the birth of each of his beautiful children. He reached up to adjust his glasses and found none. His neck was void of its locket, the photo of his family inside, worn at the insistence of his youngest daughter, despite the heckling he received from the young boys at the office.
John panicked. "Where is something to write with? Find me something to write with!" His voice carried the hysterics of a teenage tantrum.
Ian found a pen and an old composition notebook that was mostly filled in.
John wrote. Addresses, phone numbers, names, dates, and events. He wrote as fast as his cramping hands would allow, ever cognizant of the approaching assassin.
He grew even more aware of his vapid memory, recoiling from John's touch as he tried to reach further into the depths, to remember his family and friends, to maybe find them again someday.
Thus, tears flowed as he scribbled, as he remembered four children but not his fifth's name, only that the child existed and it was a boy, and it was probably the third or fourth child born. He began with his wife, knowing she would be required to begin any of this again.
The fragments shrank further and further until John could scarcely remember why he was in this history room with the teacher lecturing as if John and Ian were not there.
John simply remembered this composition book was of utmost importance.
He stuck many sticky notes on the notebook before writing "JOHN - READ THIS" in black bold text.
The class began laughing; a jokester was pointing a handheld laser pointer between the teacher's eyeballs.
The earth clapped. The scent of copper filled the room.
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[WP] "You can run, but you cannot hideeeee." the monster called out. But the monster failed to consider that you are a marathon runner and so you just keep on running.
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At first, I didn't realize how slow it was. I didn't dare to look back as I saw how big and loud it was so I assumed it had been at my back the whole time. I have run several marathons before so running isn't such a difficult feat but running from this guy was tough. I took my first look back when I realized that my breathing was louder than this monster's growls and footsteps. To my amazement he looked so small in the distance. I slowed down to get a better look and this guy was leaning on a tree catching his breath.
"I'll get you you little rascal", he yelled at me from a distance.
"You can speak?" I asked.
"Yes, I can speak you imbecile, why shouldn't I? Am I not good enough for you to speak?" I sensed a little sas in his tone.
"No, it's not that. Why are you chasing me?"
"Because I'm hungry dummy, why else would I? To inform you about your car insurance?"
"Ok but why me?" I question.
"Who cares! Just wait until I catch my breath. Geez can you guys run. It's really annoying when you do that you know," he began to get back up, "alright Lance Armstrong, here I come," he took two steps before he stumbled back over again, clearly not having caught his breath back.
"That's cycling idiot, not running," I corrected.
"Ok, no need for the harsh words," he said
"You were just about to eat me, I think I'm allowed to be upset with you."
"Fair enough," he surrendered, "How are you so fast?"
"How are you so out of shape?"
"Most of you are overweight and can barely make it out the door alright. I didn't even know your kind could run like that."
"Well, that makes two of us."
"Haha, real funny. Now will you help me up? I promise I won't eat you. I bet you taste gamey. I don't much like that."
"Why don't I buy you a steak dinner instead and in return you can tell me all about you?" I say as I extend out my arm to help him up.
"Why that sounds lovely."
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"Kyleeeeee."
The Monster gave up after running and running and running... He leaned down for a bit, took a breather and his screamed at the top of his lungs in the empty suburb street.
"Kyleeee!"
He looked ahead, at the person he was supposed to scare, who had already put quite a safe distance between. He turned around and yammered on as he walked back and clanked his scissor-hands.
"Fucking Kyle and his motherfucking victims. Where is that shithead?! Arghhh, the moment I lay my hands on him! How many times does he need to do this? Unbelievable. Can't even trust your coworkers these days."
The Monster heard footsteps approaching him from behind. Someone running.
"Is there a problem? Ha ha!"
The Monster quickly turned around, agile like a cat, swinged his scissor-hands at the Victim in the blink of an eye... and he dodged it.
"Whoops. Can't touch this, sucker!" The Victim danced and singed provoacatively as the Monster tried to get his bearings after missing his blow. As he rose, the Victim was already meters away, laughing and running.
The failure, the shame, the incompetence... It all weighed heavily on the Monster's shoulders. He dropped down to his knees, screaming once again, his voice cracking this time, and sobbing.
"Kyleeeeee!"
A man in a suit emerged from the shadows, expressionless. "What?!"
"Kyle please. Tell me you are joking. Tell me that this is some sort of an elaborate prank. This can't be real!"
"Get it together man, and go scare him!"
"How am I supposed to scare him if I can't catch him Kyle, huh?!"
"Go ride a bike or something!"
The Monster waved his scissor-hands. Kyle shrugged. The Monster continued, still breathing heavily.
"Listen, you don't understand. This week was a nightmare. First it was the parkour guy at the city. Then the second coming of Michael Phelps at the beach. Now this, in the streets? You gotta be fucking kidding me Kyle. Why do you keep kidnapping these people? Is it me that we are trying to scare here? What are we trying to make me afraid of, heart attacks?"
"Come on, we've been over this before. I only do the kidnapping, marks are chosen by the management. There's nothing personal here."
"I got kids Kyle. Someone has to bring the bread to the table. This is the only job I could find. My reviews are down the toilet. Tell me, is it the new manager?"
Kyle's eyebrows rose. "I am not at liberty to say, really."
The Monster suddenly pinned him down on the ground in an instant and raised his scissor-hands.
"I swear I'm gonna do it Kyle! Tell me!"
Kyle immediately squirmed and spilled.
"Yes, it's the new manager! She says you scared her when she was a child!"
The Monster rose up and gave Kyle a hand. "Huh. Well, on the bright side I can still scare you."
"Wouldn't count on that. She can be scarier than you."
"Don't push it Kyle, you're not a runner."
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[WP] You were told when you come of age, your words would have power within them. As an adult you’ve realized just how much power your casual words can have on peoples subconscious actions, almost like hypnotic orders. So you’re very careful with your choice of words when speaking.
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"Geez, Aubrey," the girls says, walking up the steps to school. "Is your wardrobe allergic to color or something?"
"Get bent, Lilly," Aubrey replies, walking ahead of her. She gets to the top of the steps and turns back when Lilly doesn't respond further. *Ugh, what's her deal?* she thinks, seeing Lilly reach the bottom of the steps as she walks away from school.
*Aubs*, the Shadow Lord replies in her mind. *You need to go stop her and right now!*
"Hey, I'm not responsible for what she does with her time. If she wants to skip school, that's on her."
*Uh, this time, you are responsible for what she's doing. You just used the persuasive power on her, so she's on her way to get bent.*
*Wait, what?* Aubrey looks at the back Lilly as she steps off the front sidewalk and continues through the line of vehicles that are dropping off students. Several of Lilly's friends turn to greet her, but she ignores everyone as she begins walking across the parking lot.
*What he hell, Shades? You need to get me an instruction manual on this stuff!*
*Well, influence is part of the subtlety nature that's associated with shadow powers. You really could have guessed that much.*
"Hey, Lilly!" Aubry calls, rushing down the steps. "Wait up!" She brushes against several students who complain as they roll away from her collision with them. She steps off the sidewalk to a horn blaring as the vehicle began to roll forward.
"Screw you," Aubrey yells at the driver, then freezes as her eyes widen. She turns back and raises her palm in a stop gesture. "Wait, forget I said that." Her expression is one of apology as she returns to chasing Lilly.
*He couldn't hear you, Aubs. All of his windows were up and besides, you two weren't even engaged in conversations.*
*Why does any of that relevant, Shades?* Aubrey adjusts her bag and pulls the slack out of her straps to keep it from bouncing against the small of her back.
*Because you have to be in conversation to influence someone.*
"Ugh," Aubrey groans. "We're seriously going to need to work on your communication skills after this."
As she catches up to Lilly, she wraps an arm around her neck to slow her. "Hey, hey, Lilly. Where are you off to all of a sudden?" Lilly doesn't respond, instead continuing to pull against Aubrey's grasp, in the direction of the busy street ahead of them.
*You have to command her,* Shades says.
"Lilly, stop." As soon as the statement leaves Aubery's mouth, Lilly quits pulling against her." Aubrey breathes a sigh of relief and releases the grip on her shoulder.
*Ugh, you better tell her to forget everything you've said today.*
"Why?" Aubrey asks as she notices Lilly's face turning blue. "Oh gosh! Lilly, forget everything I said today."
Lilly suddenly looks at Aubrey and pulls her arm away. "Ow," she complains from Aubrey having started gripping her arm. Lilly looks at the nearby traffic and then turns to look back towards school. "What is this," Lilly asks with an accusing glare. "Is this an abduction. Are you abducting me for one of your rituals or something? How did I even get here?"
Aubrey exhales and smiles. "Oh, thank goodness. It's good to you have you back, Lilly."
Lilly stares back at her without knowing how to respond. She finally shakes her head and turns to walk back to school. "You are so weird," she says under her breath, walking away.
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This is based on a story that I'm currently developing called Path of Shadow. You can find other related material on r/jtwrites.
Happy Reading,
JT
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**Words**
I find myself talking to the animals more often than I used to, especially the cats. They seem to understand me better than most humans do. My cat, Straggles, has been a friend for years now and she knows that I don't mean any harm by any of it.
But when I tell her to hush, all voice leaves her. And it pains me that even speaking to animals, I influence them in these ways.
There was only one person who would visit me as a child, though he didn't know it. His name is Mister Brown, and he lived next door to us. He had a dog named Chester, who always came over to play with me.
I once became very angry at the both of them and told them to run away. Nobody has heard from them since.
So I'm very careful. Very very careful. Especially now that I'm an adult.
⁂
When I was young, my parents were killed by a drunk driver. The whole thing happened so fast. I woke up to my mom screaming and dad yelling. There was glass everywhere.
Why this is relevant would also not surprise anybody.
It was in the living room when I spoke those words.
"I need to get out."
My father tried to stop me but I ran past him. I made it outside before I stopped. I turned around and yelled at the top of my lungs.
"I wish they would just disappear!" I didn't actually mean it, but something must've possessed me.
Somebody's words.
That's what I think.
I still haven't forgotten them.
⁂
I'm writing this letter because I need to explain myself to someone. It doesn't matter who, but I need to tell somebody why I'm here.
That these words continue to haunt me.
There's no explicit reason. Just that I keep thinking about them.
I'm not crazy. Not yet anyway. But I could be. If the words in my head become real, in the same way, breathing becomes real when they are aware of them, then maybe I am. Maybe it's time for me to start believing them.
These words are like a genie's lamp. They're trapped inside my mind, waiting to be set free.
And if I let them out, I won't be able to take them back.
I'll never be able to make it right again.
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[WP] You are arrested by a mysterious agency for the “illegal use of a magical and or supernatural item” after stumbling across a Genie lamp. But, the agency is stunned to find you only used one wish. An odd one in particular.
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I became really interested in magic during my studies. In graduated archeology in one of the best European universities. I always wondered how many wonders of ancient world were made, there was no other explanation but magic, so I knew it was real, I just had to prove it.
I organized expedition to Atlas Mountains in Morocco. I found a manuscript about ancient treasure buried beneath the dunes. The search was long but here I was, holding the one any only, Genie lamp. I gently rubbed it and a mysterius creature appeared
\- "How are you? And why are you disturbing my rest?"
\-"My name is Alfonso Deliberi, and I demand fulfillment of my wish"
\-"What do you wish then human?"
\-"I want to create secret organization that specializes in hunting and destroying all sort of magic artifacts. The only solution for the destruction that might be brought by the unstoppable power of magic"
\-"Odd request since you are currently using magic item, but .... as you wish"
The exact same moment genie disappeared I saw around 20 man pointing guns at me. "You are under arrest for breaking the paragraph 18 of magical regulation" tall blond man shouted. "Hands in the air and drop the lamp". "No wait, you don't understand, I wished to create you guys, I wanted to bring safety to this world, I'm not your enemy" I shouted in response. "We heard it all, hands in the air and don't move"
I of course surrendered, I had no other choice. My wish not only created this anti-magic organization, but entire international law about usage of magic. No one believed my explanations, the organization had records of existing for centuries.
And here I'm a prisoner of my own creation, I was charged with serious fellonies and sentenced to almost 20 years, but it is a small price for safety of humanity. Who knows what could happen if the lamp was in the wrong hands.
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I finish putting on the rest of my costume and open the doors to the giant stadium-like building. I am greeted by a cool breeze and the smell of old sweaty white dudes. I look around to see tons of fellow comic book lovers, and my heart beats faster. WOW. Comicon is as impressive as Reddit makes it sound. Before starting my adventure, I head over to the bathroom. I am greeted with more of the "comic lover" smell inside the bathroom, and I head to the nearest Urinal.
"FREEZE, DONT MOVE," Yells a strange-looking man adorned in a green cloak with big round goggles and what appears to be a brown stick in his hand?
"Ugh, you got me?" I say, putting my hands up and laughing awkwardly.
Then, I proceed to stare at the wall in front of me again, hoping the weirdo in the Green Robinhood/Alien/Wizard costume, GRAW for short will go away. Wow, people go hard with their role, even in the bathroom. Huh. I can't say I'm surprised; I just wasn't ready for it yet. After a few seconds, I pull up my pants and tighten my zipper, turning towards the sink.
My friend GRAW, still standing there, is now pointing his brown twig at my back. "You have Violated Space Time Ordinance," he says, proudly puffing his chest.
Ignoring him, I go to the sink and start washing my hands. "Hey comrade, I'm loving the energy, but it's kind of weird to pop out at people while they're peeing, even at Comicon. BTW what race do you hail from?" I say, in an attempt to figure out his costume, sound nerdy, and dispel some of the awkwardness.
"I hail from Teleios-Eleggtis-Chronou, and I am here to escort you to the Fourth-dimensional space court." He says firmly.
"Ah, most excellent; I have been meaning to settle such matters. And what is your name?" I say, playing along as I finish washing my hands.
"You can call me Graw." He says, unamused since that's all you could muster to think up.
My eyes widen in shock, and I am suddenly zapped by a bright pink beam that seems to float across the air. Moments later, I appear in what looks like a courtroom puking my guts out. Graw looks at me and whispers, "don't worry, it's temporary."
"Silence.' Booms, a strange voice. When I look up, there is a man in similar attire to Graw. Except his cloak is blue and not nearly as neatly pressed. I look around, and behind us are rows of hundreds of people. All are dressed in a similar fashion, the only variation being the color of their robe.
"Sorry, your honor, I was just trying to explain to Defendant 1790210000 that the vomiting would only be temporary side effect of tge Instant-Fairy-Teleportation-Technique." Says Graw in a soft voice.
"That's the least of his problems," the judge responds.
"Defendant 1790210000 - Planet Earth - Name in Common Tongue John Pearl, do you know why you are here?" He continues.
I shake my head no but then remember something about *Violating Space Time Ordinance or something.* But that was a joke, right?
"You have violated Space Time Ordinance... For... Let's see here... Using a Genie... To wish for... People on Reddit to troll you? Well now if that isn't possibly the stupidest thing I've ever heard. And how do you plead?" He continues.
"Wait. That wish I made jokingly six years ago backstage at an Alladin play? This has got to be a joke, right? Even if that is somehow the case, why is this a big deal now. What is going on? Haha very funny come out with the cameras," I ask, utterly confused and annoyed.
Graw looks concerned and whispers, "Shut up, idiot; this isn't a joke. You last want to be stuck in time perjury for eternity. Crimes only manifest after they happen. So, in your case, after someone trolls you."
"Guilty, it is." He responds, a gavel next time him knocking hard against the podium; I sentence you to 3 million lifetimes in time perjury.
Suddenly, two guards appear behind me, "Wait no!! Ugh, I try to gasp at anything to save me. I can explain? I invoke The Law of Ora...Teleios... Eleggtis..." I screech, and nothing happens. I think harder, grasping for anything that could get me out of this mess. "My trolls comment got deleted tho," I shout in a last ditch effort. Suddenly time stands still, the hundreds of spectators gasp, and all eyes are on me.
Story is here on my page ---> [One Wish to Rule Them All](https://www.reddit.com/r/Fuji_Jufi_Writes/comments/yk8wo1/one_wish_to_rule_them_all/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=ios_app&utm_name=iossmf)
Follow and check out my other works 😜✌🏻—-> [Fuji-Jufi-Writes](https://www.reddit.com/r/Fuji_Jufi_Writes/)
|
|
[WP] You are arrested by a mysterious agency for the “illegal use of a magical and or supernatural item” after stumbling across a Genie lamp. But, the agency is stunned to find you only used one wish. An odd one in particular.
|
"You people really need to relax my wish was ironclad." I said leaning back in the chair.
"What WAS you wish?" Asked one of the agents.
"What anyone should wish for if they ever found a genie. For them to ALL be free." I said laughing as the agents around me all turned pale, one rushed to the nearby trash can and vomited.
"Do you know what you have done!?!?!? They are evil on carnet they will kill and terrorize countless people!" Said the agent closest to me
"First, no they won't they are all too busy partying. A party I was on my way back to when you assholes picked me up by the way, second I, unlike yourself, am not an idiot and know the consequences of my actions. The genie and I worked together for months to make the wish work so everyone is happy and no one gets hurt. I mean hell I do NOT want that bad karma on my hands and neither do they. " I said tapping my fingers on the desk.
"Karma?? They care about karma?" Asked the act still leaning over the trash can.
"OOooooooohhhh yea big time. Before they were enslaved by some assholes their job was to ensure the balance of karma in existence. It's how the whole wish thing works." I said a sinister smile on my face. "They are also surprisingly happy to be getting back to work. Sooo many people have been taken advantage of and abused with no restitution."
"WHAT WAS THE exact WISH ALREADY!!!!" screamed the lead agent.
"OH I just wished for them all to be free as long as they take no malicious acts on or override the free will of another." I said mater of factly. " back to the whole karma thing though, that's the important part."
"Why is that?" Asked an agent
"Well you are all covered in some nasty karma... you all are clearly not very good people. In fact I think I'll be getting a ride back to that party real soon." I said.
As i finished speaking the lights over head went out only to be replaced a few moments later by red emergency lighting. In the hall we could hear screams and gun fire.
"Hey looks like my rides here." Standing up and flicking my hands the cuffs holding me to the table vanished as if they weren't there.
"Jesus christ he's one off them!!!" Screamed one of the agents, all drawing their weapon.
"Hardly, they were all just. incredibly greatful to be trusted and set free that they like to shower me with gifts. Like this" making a show of snapping fingers and pointing at their weapons they all suddenly turned into various fruits and vegetables.
"Well it's been fun but I really am going to need to be going. Good luck with all this though. " I said waiving my hand in the air gesturing to the chaos unfolding.
"Don't worry they won't kill anyone unless they deserve it. But then again I did teach them what malicious compliance is...." laughter in my voice. "Those genies love their loopholes."
With a 😉 to the agents I felt myself pulled into the ether only to reapear in a limo parked in front of the building.
"Are we waiting for them to finish?" I asked the driver.
"Hell no" he responded " I'm off duty and want to party. They will catch up."
"Sweet."
|
I finish putting on the rest of my costume and open the doors to the giant stadium-like building. I am greeted by a cool breeze and the smell of old sweaty white dudes. I look around to see tons of fellow comic book lovers, and my heart beats faster. WOW. Comicon is as impressive as Reddit makes it sound. Before starting my adventure, I head over to the bathroom. I am greeted with more of the "comic lover" smell inside the bathroom, and I head to the nearest Urinal.
"FREEZE, DONT MOVE," Yells a strange-looking man adorned in a green cloak with big round goggles and what appears to be a brown stick in his hand?
"Ugh, you got me?" I say, putting my hands up and laughing awkwardly.
Then, I proceed to stare at the wall in front of me again, hoping the weirdo in the Green Robinhood/Alien/Wizard costume, GRAW for short will go away. Wow, people go hard with their role, even in the bathroom. Huh. I can't say I'm surprised; I just wasn't ready for it yet. After a few seconds, I pull up my pants and tighten my zipper, turning towards the sink.
My friend GRAW, still standing there, is now pointing his brown twig at my back. "You have Violated Space Time Ordinance," he says, proudly puffing his chest.
Ignoring him, I go to the sink and start washing my hands. "Hey comrade, I'm loving the energy, but it's kind of weird to pop out at people while they're peeing, even at Comicon. BTW what race do you hail from?" I say, in an attempt to figure out his costume, sound nerdy, and dispel some of the awkwardness.
"I hail from Teleios-Eleggtis-Chronou, and I am here to escort you to the Fourth-dimensional space court." He says firmly.
"Ah, most excellent; I have been meaning to settle such matters. And what is your name?" I say, playing along as I finish washing my hands.
"You can call me Graw." He says, unamused since that's all you could muster to think up.
My eyes widen in shock, and I am suddenly zapped by a bright pink beam that seems to float across the air. Moments later, I appear in what looks like a courtroom puking my guts out. Graw looks at me and whispers, "don't worry, it's temporary."
"Silence.' Booms, a strange voice. When I look up, there is a man in similar attire to Graw. Except his cloak is blue and not nearly as neatly pressed. I look around, and behind us are rows of hundreds of people. All are dressed in a similar fashion, the only variation being the color of their robe.
"Sorry, your honor, I was just trying to explain to Defendant 1790210000 that the vomiting would only be temporary side effect of tge Instant-Fairy-Teleportation-Technique." Says Graw in a soft voice.
"That's the least of his problems," the judge responds.
"Defendant 1790210000 - Planet Earth - Name in Common Tongue John Pearl, do you know why you are here?" He continues.
I shake my head no but then remember something about *Violating Space Time Ordinance or something.* But that was a joke, right?
"You have violated Space Time Ordinance... For... Let's see here... Using a Genie... To wish for... People on Reddit to troll you? Well now if that isn't possibly the stupidest thing I've ever heard. And how do you plead?" He continues.
"Wait. That wish I made jokingly six years ago backstage at an Alladin play? This has got to be a joke, right? Even if that is somehow the case, why is this a big deal now. What is going on? Haha very funny come out with the cameras," I ask, utterly confused and annoyed.
Graw looks concerned and whispers, "Shut up, idiot; this isn't a joke. You last want to be stuck in time perjury for eternity. Crimes only manifest after they happen. So, in your case, after someone trolls you."
"Guilty, it is." He responds, a gavel next time him knocking hard against the podium; I sentence you to 3 million lifetimes in time perjury.
Suddenly, two guards appear behind me, "Wait no!! Ugh, I try to gasp at anything to save me. I can explain? I invoke The Law of Ora...Teleios... Eleggtis..." I screech, and nothing happens. I think harder, grasping for anything that could get me out of this mess. "My trolls comment got deleted tho," I shout in a last ditch effort. Suddenly time stands still, the hundreds of spectators gasp, and all eyes are on me.
Story is here on my page ---> [One Wish to Rule Them All](https://www.reddit.com/r/Fuji_Jufi_Writes/comments/yk8wo1/one_wish_to_rule_them_all/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=ios_app&utm_name=iossmf)
Follow and check out my other works 😜✌🏻—-> [Fuji-Jufi-Writes](https://www.reddit.com/r/Fuji_Jufi_Writes/)
|
|
[WP] You are arrested by a mysterious agency for the “illegal use of a magical and or supernatural item” after stumbling across a Genie lamp. But, the agency is stunned to find you only used one wish. An odd one in particular.
|
"So let me get this straight", the officer in the sequined uniform said, adjusting his pointy hat as he spoke. "You found an unlicensed magical item, and conversed with the entity inside, instructing the entity to..."
I glanced up from inspecting my glowing shackles. "I wished for my ex wife to get bunions."
"...right." The officer said, dipping a colorful feather quill in the ink well and, presumably, writing my statement on the parchment on the table. "And did you instruct the entity to perform any further acts, magical or non-magical in nature?"
"Erm, no." I said, shifting in my seat. "Just the bunions thing."
The quill scribbled again. The officer released his grip on the feather, which didn't affect the quill's writing speed.
"I'm a bit confused here, Jerry." The officer said, crossing his arms and leaning back in his chair. "You violated the Magical Entity Protection act, Illegally used an unlicensed magical item, and then abandoned said item after only using one of three wishes... to make your ex wife mildly uncomfortable?"
I glanced to the only other person in the interrogation room, who I wasn't sure was even a person at all. It seemed to be some sort of centaur, or maybe just a particularly handsome horse.
"I asked you a question, Jerry." The human officer said. "Please respond for the record." he gestured towards the awaiting quill on the table between us.
"How many times do you want me to say it?" I asked. "I found a lamp, rubbed it, and asked the genie that came out to give my ex wife Pauline bunions on both of her feet."
"But *why*?" The officer asked over the sound of the scribbling quill. "You could have used three wishes, for anything in the world or even beyond."
I shrugged. The small action made the magical shackles jingle with far more sound than it should have done. "I wanted her to get bunions. She'd be annoyed."
The officers glanced at each other, both seeking answers from the other's expressions.
"You could have wished for unlimited money, for women to find you irresistible, for, well, anything at all." He said, leaning onto the table. "But you only wished to-"
"Look, officer, I wanted her to get bunions. Thats it." I interrupted. "Thats all I wanted. You don't need to keep asking over and over again, alright?"
The quill moved furiously, writing my words as I spoke them.
"I didn't even know that genies were real, or illegal to use." I added.
The quill laid itself down on the desk, apparently concluding the interview portion of my detainment.
"Thank you, Jerry." The human officer said, rising from his seat. "Officer Seabiscuit, please escort him back to his holding cell."
The horse man whinnied in reply, and waved a hoof towards me.
"I don't know, maybe Pauline has the key. Go ask her." The officer said, and left.
Ah. That explained at least one thing about my experiences so far.
/r/SlightlyColdStories for more
|
I finish putting on the rest of my costume and open the doors to the giant stadium-like building. I am greeted by a cool breeze and the smell of old sweaty white dudes. I look around to see tons of fellow comic book lovers, and my heart beats faster. WOW. Comicon is as impressive as Reddit makes it sound. Before starting my adventure, I head over to the bathroom. I am greeted with more of the "comic lover" smell inside the bathroom, and I head to the nearest Urinal.
"FREEZE, DONT MOVE," Yells a strange-looking man adorned in a green cloak with big round goggles and what appears to be a brown stick in his hand?
"Ugh, you got me?" I say, putting my hands up and laughing awkwardly.
Then, I proceed to stare at the wall in front of me again, hoping the weirdo in the Green Robinhood/Alien/Wizard costume, GRAW for short will go away. Wow, people go hard with their role, even in the bathroom. Huh. I can't say I'm surprised; I just wasn't ready for it yet. After a few seconds, I pull up my pants and tighten my zipper, turning towards the sink.
My friend GRAW, still standing there, is now pointing his brown twig at my back. "You have Violated Space Time Ordinance," he says, proudly puffing his chest.
Ignoring him, I go to the sink and start washing my hands. "Hey comrade, I'm loving the energy, but it's kind of weird to pop out at people while they're peeing, even at Comicon. BTW what race do you hail from?" I say, in an attempt to figure out his costume, sound nerdy, and dispel some of the awkwardness.
"I hail from Teleios-Eleggtis-Chronou, and I am here to escort you to the Fourth-dimensional space court." He says firmly.
"Ah, most excellent; I have been meaning to settle such matters. And what is your name?" I say, playing along as I finish washing my hands.
"You can call me Graw." He says, unamused since that's all you could muster to think up.
My eyes widen in shock, and I am suddenly zapped by a bright pink beam that seems to float across the air. Moments later, I appear in what looks like a courtroom puking my guts out. Graw looks at me and whispers, "don't worry, it's temporary."
"Silence.' Booms, a strange voice. When I look up, there is a man in similar attire to Graw. Except his cloak is blue and not nearly as neatly pressed. I look around, and behind us are rows of hundreds of people. All are dressed in a similar fashion, the only variation being the color of their robe.
"Sorry, your honor, I was just trying to explain to Defendant 1790210000 that the vomiting would only be temporary side effect of tge Instant-Fairy-Teleportation-Technique." Says Graw in a soft voice.
"That's the least of his problems," the judge responds.
"Defendant 1790210000 - Planet Earth - Name in Common Tongue John Pearl, do you know why you are here?" He continues.
I shake my head no but then remember something about *Violating Space Time Ordinance or something.* But that was a joke, right?
"You have violated Space Time Ordinance... For... Let's see here... Using a Genie... To wish for... People on Reddit to troll you? Well now if that isn't possibly the stupidest thing I've ever heard. And how do you plead?" He continues.
"Wait. That wish I made jokingly six years ago backstage at an Alladin play? This has got to be a joke, right? Even if that is somehow the case, why is this a big deal now. What is going on? Haha very funny come out with the cameras," I ask, utterly confused and annoyed.
Graw looks concerned and whispers, "Shut up, idiot; this isn't a joke. You last want to be stuck in time perjury for eternity. Crimes only manifest after they happen. So, in your case, after someone trolls you."
"Guilty, it is." He responds, a gavel next time him knocking hard against the podium; I sentence you to 3 million lifetimes in time perjury.
Suddenly, two guards appear behind me, "Wait no!! Ugh, I try to gasp at anything to save me. I can explain? I invoke The Law of Ora...Teleios... Eleggtis..." I screech, and nothing happens. I think harder, grasping for anything that could get me out of this mess. "My trolls comment got deleted tho," I shout in a last ditch effort. Suddenly time stands still, the hundreds of spectators gasp, and all eyes are on me.
Story is here on my page ---> [One Wish to Rule Them All](https://www.reddit.com/r/Fuji_Jufi_Writes/comments/yk8wo1/one_wish_to_rule_them_all/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=ios_app&utm_name=iossmf)
Follow and check out my other works 😜✌🏻—-> [Fuji-Jufi-Writes](https://www.reddit.com/r/Fuji_Jufi_Writes/)
|
|
[WP] You are arrested by a mysterious agency for the “illegal use of a magical and or supernatural item” after stumbling across a Genie lamp. But, the agency is stunned to find you only used one wish. An odd one in particular.
|
"You people really need to relax my wish was ironclad." I said leaning back in the chair.
"What WAS you wish?" Asked one of the agents.
"What anyone should wish for if they ever found a genie. For them to ALL be free." I said laughing as the agents around me all turned pale, one rushed to the nearby trash can and vomited.
"Do you know what you have done!?!?!? They are evil on carnet they will kill and terrorize countless people!" Said the agent closest to me
"First, no they won't they are all too busy partying. A party I was on my way back to when you assholes picked me up by the way, second I, unlike yourself, am not an idiot and know the consequences of my actions. The genie and I worked together for months to make the wish work so everyone is happy and no one gets hurt. I mean hell I do NOT want that bad karma on my hands and neither do they. " I said tapping my fingers on the desk.
"Karma?? They care about karma?" Asked the act still leaning over the trash can.
"OOooooooohhhh yea big time. Before they were enslaved by some assholes their job was to ensure the balance of karma in existence. It's how the whole wish thing works." I said a sinister smile on my face. "They are also surprisingly happy to be getting back to work. Sooo many people have been taken advantage of and abused with no restitution."
"WHAT WAS THE exact WISH ALREADY!!!!" screamed the lead agent.
"OH I just wished for them all to be free as long as they take no malicious acts on or override the free will of another." I said mater of factly. " back to the whole karma thing though, that's the important part."
"Why is that?" Asked an agent
"Well you are all covered in some nasty karma... you all are clearly not very good people. In fact I think I'll be getting a ride back to that party real soon." I said.
As i finished speaking the lights over head went out only to be replaced a few moments later by red emergency lighting. In the hall we could hear screams and gun fire.
"Hey looks like my rides here." Standing up and flicking my hands the cuffs holding me to the table vanished as if they weren't there.
"Jesus christ he's one off them!!!" Screamed one of the agents, all drawing their weapon.
"Hardly, they were all just. incredibly greatful to be trusted and set free that they like to shower me with gifts. Like this" making a show of snapping fingers and pointing at their weapons they all suddenly turned into various fruits and vegetables.
"Well it's been fun but I really am going to need to be going. Good luck with all this though. " I said waiving my hand in the air gesturing to the chaos unfolding.
"Don't worry they won't kill anyone unless they deserve it. But then again I did teach them what malicious compliance is...." laughter in my voice. "Those genies love their loopholes."
With a 😉 to the agents I felt myself pulled into the ether only to reapear in a limo parked in front of the building.
"Are we waiting for them to finish?" I asked the driver.
"Hell no" he responded " I'm off duty and want to party. They will catch up."
"Sweet."
|
I became really interested in magic during my studies. In graduated archeology in one of the best European universities. I always wondered how many wonders of ancient world were made, there was no other explanation but magic, so I knew it was real, I just had to prove it.
I organized expedition to Atlas Mountains in Morocco. I found a manuscript about ancient treasure buried beneath the dunes. The search was long but here I was, holding the one any only, Genie lamp. I gently rubbed it and a mysterius creature appeared
\- "How are you? And why are you disturbing my rest?"
\-"My name is Alfonso Deliberi, and I demand fulfillment of my wish"
\-"What do you wish then human?"
\-"I want to create secret organization that specializes in hunting and destroying all sort of magic artifacts. The only solution for the destruction that might be brought by the unstoppable power of magic"
\-"Odd request since you are currently using magic item, but .... as you wish"
The exact same moment genie disappeared I saw around 20 man pointing guns at me. "You are under arrest for breaking the paragraph 18 of magical regulation" tall blond man shouted. "Hands in the air and drop the lamp". "No wait, you don't understand, I wished to create you guys, I wanted to bring safety to this world, I'm not your enemy" I shouted in response. "We heard it all, hands in the air and don't move"
I of course surrendered, I had no other choice. My wish not only created this anti-magic organization, but entire international law about usage of magic. No one believed my explanations, the organization had records of existing for centuries.
And here I'm a prisoner of my own creation, I was charged with serious fellonies and sentenced to almost 20 years, but it is a small price for safety of humanity. Who knows what could happen if the lamp was in the wrong hands.
|
|
[WP] You are arrested by a mysterious agency for the “illegal use of a magical and or supernatural item” after stumbling across a Genie lamp. But, the agency is stunned to find you only used one wish. An odd one in particular.
|
"You people really need to relax my wish was ironclad." I said leaning back in the chair.
"What WAS you wish?" Asked one of the agents.
"What anyone should wish for if they ever found a genie. For them to ALL be free." I said laughing as the agents around me all turned pale, one rushed to the nearby trash can and vomited.
"Do you know what you have done!?!?!? They are evil on carnet they will kill and terrorize countless people!" Said the agent closest to me
"First, no they won't they are all too busy partying. A party I was on my way back to when you assholes picked me up by the way, second I, unlike yourself, am not an idiot and know the consequences of my actions. The genie and I worked together for months to make the wish work so everyone is happy and no one gets hurt. I mean hell I do NOT want that bad karma on my hands and neither do they. " I said tapping my fingers on the desk.
"Karma?? They care about karma?" Asked the act still leaning over the trash can.
"OOooooooohhhh yea big time. Before they were enslaved by some assholes their job was to ensure the balance of karma in existence. It's how the whole wish thing works." I said a sinister smile on my face. "They are also surprisingly happy to be getting back to work. Sooo many people have been taken advantage of and abused with no restitution."
"WHAT WAS THE exact WISH ALREADY!!!!" screamed the lead agent.
"OH I just wished for them all to be free as long as they take no malicious acts on or override the free will of another." I said mater of factly. " back to the whole karma thing though, that's the important part."
"Why is that?" Asked an agent
"Well you are all covered in some nasty karma... you all are clearly not very good people. In fact I think I'll be getting a ride back to that party real soon." I said.
As i finished speaking the lights over head went out only to be replaced a few moments later by red emergency lighting. In the hall we could hear screams and gun fire.
"Hey looks like my rides here." Standing up and flicking my hands the cuffs holding me to the table vanished as if they weren't there.
"Jesus christ he's one off them!!!" Screamed one of the agents, all drawing their weapon.
"Hardly, they were all just. incredibly greatful to be trusted and set free that they like to shower me with gifts. Like this" making a show of snapping fingers and pointing at their weapons they all suddenly turned into various fruits and vegetables.
"Well it's been fun but I really am going to need to be going. Good luck with all this though. " I said waiving my hand in the air gesturing to the chaos unfolding.
"Don't worry they won't kill anyone unless they deserve it. But then again I did teach them what malicious compliance is...." laughter in my voice. "Those genies love their loopholes."
With a 😉 to the agents I felt myself pulled into the ether only to reapear in a limo parked in front of the building.
"Are we waiting for them to finish?" I asked the driver.
"Hell no" he responded " I'm off duty and want to party. They will catch up."
"Sweet."
|
Toby was a little overwhelmed with the events of the last few hours. He knew MANA was a thing, everyone did. They were the ones who handled out of control supers and mages. He never thought he’d be in their crosshairs though. It was one little wish. Then woosh he was surrounded by armed agents, three of them in power armor and one of them was covered in red electricity. An honest to God super in his bedroom. A beautiful twenty-year-old one at that. That twenty-year-old super was standing in front of him with her arms crossed in a body-tight suit of armor. He was staring at her assets, because, well he was fifteen. He was snapped back to the interrogation proper when she slammed her palms on the table he was handcuffed too.
“Our satellites detected a PL20 event in your house. Where are you hiding the unregistered super? Or was it you?”
Toby recalled the raid. His wall was literally smashed in. Oh God he thought, my parents are going to ground me for life… or murder me. He’d been hit with a stunner. Then they slapped a power limiter on his ankle. He’d seen them before on people who would go to the Aurelius Academy. He was no super though, not even a PL1. He didn’t want to be. He’d seen them of course on TV and at a distance putting out fires, fighting super villains, or UPIs, or unlicensed powered individuals. He was formulating his answer but then his eyes drifted to the Agent’s chest and how the form fitting armor cupped it. She hit the desk again hard.
“I’m losing patience with you. Toby. You tell me what I want to know, or you’re going to Earth-18 Supermax for the rest of your natural life. Which considering the look of you would be a few days at most, so that is a small mercy.”
Toby was mid-swallow when she spoke and he started choking on his saliva. Earth-18? Supermax? That was where they sent the scary ones. It was full of the psychopaths and sociopaths who had superpowers. The ones who refused to be registered and licensed.“I didn’t do it!”The blonde-haired agent tapped her wrist and brought up a hologram and pointed at a red circle pinging on a satellite image of his house with a PL20 Event flashing underneath.
“Your house one hour ago. Where is the PL20 super? Explain or you will be considered just as guilty as them. If I need to I will bring in an Agent who can just pull it out of your head. Your rights against mental scanning are nil when there are unlicensed super’s involved.”
Toby was feeling like he was going to throw up now. Someone reading his mind? They’d know all his deepest thoughts. All his… thoughts about the agent and she was scary. Tears started to form in his eyes. The agent didn’t seem sympathetic to his plight. He broke.
“It was the lamp! I rubbed the lamp.”
The agent was about to go on to another terrible fate that awaited him and opened then closed her mouth. And leaned down.
“What lamp?”
“I found it at a flea market. I was cleaning it up and this girl appeared. Skimpy outfit she was hot.”
The agent grabbed his chin roughly and forced him to look at her face.
“Was she the PL20 super? Tell me now.”
Toby stammered a few times as he looked into the Agent’s blue eyes.
“I… I… guess? She said she could grant me one wish.”
The agent paused and glanced at the one-way armored mirror behind her.She motioned towards it. Shortly afterwards a door opened, and an old man walked in. He looked like something out of a horror movie to Toby to be honest. Pale skin, dark clothes. Blood red eyes. Long, sharp, black nails. The female agent turned to leave. Toby shrunk into his seat. He much preferred her to whomever this new Agent was.
“I’d rather talk to her.”
The man grinned and Toby saw fangs.
“I am afraid magic is not her… forte. Let’s you and I discuss the lamp.”
Toby squirmed.
“I’ll only talk to her!”
The female Agent sighed and turned back towards the room and stood beside the newcomer. She crossed her arms and looked down at Toby red lightning arcing between her fingers.
“You better tell us exactly what we want to know, lets start with, What did you wish for? And please tell me it wasn’t superpowers because we don’t need another idiot running around with them.”
“A girl who would have…”
He paused and started blushing intensely. He looked between the vampire and the female Agent. She frowned.
“Spit it out, we’ve heard it all before.”
“I wished for a girl to have sex with!”
“And did she make it happen?”
Toby’s ears were bright red as the woman's eyes burned into him. He started to think maybe he should have let her leave. The vampire seemed amused, the female agent looked like she was about to fry his ass.
“She summoned a life like sex doll that talked, then she vanished! Its not what I asked for.”
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[WP] You are arrested by a mysterious agency for the “illegal use of a magical and or supernatural item” after stumbling across a Genie lamp. But, the agency is stunned to find you only used one wish. An odd one in particular.
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"So let me get this straight", the officer in the sequined uniform said, adjusting his pointy hat as he spoke. "You found an unlicensed magical item, and conversed with the entity inside, instructing the entity to..."
I glanced up from inspecting my glowing shackles. "I wished for my ex wife to get bunions."
"...right." The officer said, dipping a colorful feather quill in the ink well and, presumably, writing my statement on the parchment on the table. "And did you instruct the entity to perform any further acts, magical or non-magical in nature?"
"Erm, no." I said, shifting in my seat. "Just the bunions thing."
The quill scribbled again. The officer released his grip on the feather, which didn't affect the quill's writing speed.
"I'm a bit confused here, Jerry." The officer said, crossing his arms and leaning back in his chair. "You violated the Magical Entity Protection act, Illegally used an unlicensed magical item, and then abandoned said item after only using one of three wishes... to make your ex wife mildly uncomfortable?"
I glanced to the only other person in the interrogation room, who I wasn't sure was even a person at all. It seemed to be some sort of centaur, or maybe just a particularly handsome horse.
"I asked you a question, Jerry." The human officer said. "Please respond for the record." he gestured towards the awaiting quill on the table between us.
"How many times do you want me to say it?" I asked. "I found a lamp, rubbed it, and asked the genie that came out to give my ex wife Pauline bunions on both of her feet."
"But *why*?" The officer asked over the sound of the scribbling quill. "You could have used three wishes, for anything in the world or even beyond."
I shrugged. The small action made the magical shackles jingle with far more sound than it should have done. "I wanted her to get bunions. She'd be annoyed."
The officers glanced at each other, both seeking answers from the other's expressions.
"You could have wished for unlimited money, for women to find you irresistible, for, well, anything at all." He said, leaning onto the table. "But you only wished to-"
"Look, officer, I wanted her to get bunions. Thats it." I interrupted. "Thats all I wanted. You don't need to keep asking over and over again, alright?"
The quill moved furiously, writing my words as I spoke them.
"I didn't even know that genies were real, or illegal to use." I added.
The quill laid itself down on the desk, apparently concluding the interview portion of my detainment.
"Thank you, Jerry." The human officer said, rising from his seat. "Officer Seabiscuit, please escort him back to his holding cell."
The horse man whinnied in reply, and waved a hoof towards me.
"I don't know, maybe Pauline has the key. Go ask her." The officer said, and left.
Ah. That explained at least one thing about my experiences so far.
/r/SlightlyColdStories for more
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Toby was a little overwhelmed with the events of the last few hours. He knew MANA was a thing, everyone did. They were the ones who handled out of control supers and mages. He never thought he’d be in their crosshairs though. It was one little wish. Then woosh he was surrounded by armed agents, three of them in power armor and one of them was covered in red electricity. An honest to God super in his bedroom. A beautiful twenty-year-old one at that. That twenty-year-old super was standing in front of him with her arms crossed in a body-tight suit of armor. He was staring at her assets, because, well he was fifteen. He was snapped back to the interrogation proper when she slammed her palms on the table he was handcuffed too.
“Our satellites detected a PL20 event in your house. Where are you hiding the unregistered super? Or was it you?”
Toby recalled the raid. His wall was literally smashed in. Oh God he thought, my parents are going to ground me for life… or murder me. He’d been hit with a stunner. Then they slapped a power limiter on his ankle. He’d seen them before on people who would go to the Aurelius Academy. He was no super though, not even a PL1. He didn’t want to be. He’d seen them of course on TV and at a distance putting out fires, fighting super villains, or UPIs, or unlicensed powered individuals. He was formulating his answer but then his eyes drifted to the Agent’s chest and how the form fitting armor cupped it. She hit the desk again hard.
“I’m losing patience with you. Toby. You tell me what I want to know, or you’re going to Earth-18 Supermax for the rest of your natural life. Which considering the look of you would be a few days at most, so that is a small mercy.”
Toby was mid-swallow when she spoke and he started choking on his saliva. Earth-18? Supermax? That was where they sent the scary ones. It was full of the psychopaths and sociopaths who had superpowers. The ones who refused to be registered and licensed.“I didn’t do it!”The blonde-haired agent tapped her wrist and brought up a hologram and pointed at a red circle pinging on a satellite image of his house with a PL20 Event flashing underneath.
“Your house one hour ago. Where is the PL20 super? Explain or you will be considered just as guilty as them. If I need to I will bring in an Agent who can just pull it out of your head. Your rights against mental scanning are nil when there are unlicensed super’s involved.”
Toby was feeling like he was going to throw up now. Someone reading his mind? They’d know all his deepest thoughts. All his… thoughts about the agent and she was scary. Tears started to form in his eyes. The agent didn’t seem sympathetic to his plight. He broke.
“It was the lamp! I rubbed the lamp.”
The agent was about to go on to another terrible fate that awaited him and opened then closed her mouth. And leaned down.
“What lamp?”
“I found it at a flea market. I was cleaning it up and this girl appeared. Skimpy outfit she was hot.”
The agent grabbed his chin roughly and forced him to look at her face.
“Was she the PL20 super? Tell me now.”
Toby stammered a few times as he looked into the Agent’s blue eyes.
“I… I… guess? She said she could grant me one wish.”
The agent paused and glanced at the one-way armored mirror behind her.She motioned towards it. Shortly afterwards a door opened, and an old man walked in. He looked like something out of a horror movie to Toby to be honest. Pale skin, dark clothes. Blood red eyes. Long, sharp, black nails. The female agent turned to leave. Toby shrunk into his seat. He much preferred her to whomever this new Agent was.
“I’d rather talk to her.”
The man grinned and Toby saw fangs.
“I am afraid magic is not her… forte. Let’s you and I discuss the lamp.”
Toby squirmed.
“I’ll only talk to her!”
The female Agent sighed and turned back towards the room and stood beside the newcomer. She crossed her arms and looked down at Toby red lightning arcing between her fingers.
“You better tell us exactly what we want to know, lets start with, What did you wish for? And please tell me it wasn’t superpowers because we don’t need another idiot running around with them.”
“A girl who would have…”
He paused and started blushing intensely. He looked between the vampire and the female Agent. She frowned.
“Spit it out, we’ve heard it all before.”
“I wished for a girl to have sex with!”
“And did she make it happen?”
Toby’s ears were bright red as the woman's eyes burned into him. He started to think maybe he should have let her leave. The vampire seemed amused, the female agent looked like she was about to fry his ass.
“She summoned a life like sex doll that talked, then she vanished! Its not what I asked for.”
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[WP] You are an ancient Egyptian pharaoh trying to enjoy the afterlife, but all of your stuff keeps disappearing as tomb raiders steal the physical objects. Finally having had enough, you decide it's time to go back to Earth and get some cursing in.
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I was very much content with my afterlife. During my burial, my concubine made sure that my worldly possessions were entombed with me.
A beautiful ornate chess set with its pieces made of smooth ivory. My bow, carved out of a solid Birch branch, with my name "Thutmenhat" engraved in gold, together with a quiver of arrows. My chariot, strong and mighty, that once bore me across the plains of the Nile.
The rules of the afterlife meant that whatever was brought into the tomb was mine by right to use and enjoy. I had spent hours, jousting with King Ramses over the board. The hunting trips I organized were attended by all as lesser kings jostled to get to the front of the line to try my bow. And lastly, I was able to ride on my chariot with my son, Thutmenhat II, after he died and was entombed like me.
Slowly, I noticed that the other Pharoahs with us were getting distracted. Attendance to my hunts dwindled and King Ramses was suddenly much better than me at Chess, often crushing me.
Curious, I asked my son to investigate where the other Pharoahs were going. He jumped onto the chariot, flicked his wrists and promptly crashed to the ground, causing a loud din. I looked up and saw that one of the spiked wheel on my chariot was just gone. Vanished overnight. What seems to be happening?
The next morning, another wheel had disappeared. How am I to ride a chariot without wheels? I have had enough. I stooped to pick up my bow with all intention to raid the town to find the little bastard that stole them. Hang on a minute, even my bow is gone!
And it hit me. King Ramses had warned me about this. He had items go missing too. The humans, without a care for the curses laid upon our tombs, had decided to raid them and leave them bare. Without the physical items in the tomb, there was no way that they could be transported into the afterlife.
I have had it. My wheels. My bow. What's next, my tiger skins? As I walked over to the portal to be transported down back to earth as a spirit, I bumped into King Ramses. In his hands there was a strange object. It was flat and shining. Upon it were strange hieroglyphics that made no sense to me. It was emitting a sound as well, a beat that was traditional but yet brash to the ears.
"Hey Ram, what do you have there?" I asked.
"Oh hey Tut, errrrrrr..... So you know how I keep beating you in Chess?" He replied.
"Yea, I can't get over how you are able to come up with those moves. I have to think for a whole half an hour before coming up with a good move and all you do is stand up, walk over to the parapet and come back with a brilliant move" I exclaimed.
"Oh yea. To be fair to you, I recently came into possession of a new device. It's a miracle unlike that which I have seen. Beats the raining of blood and locust hordes. All I have to do is copy the moves on the board over into it and poof, it spits out the perfect moves for me" He replied.
He showed this to me on his flat device and my mind was just blown.
"Where did you come up with this? This is years ahead of our time" I asked.
"Well, it all happened when I noticed my stuff going missing. First my short sword, next my miniature army. I realized that someone was raiding my tomb! I decided enough was enough and went down to see who was doing this. When I reached, I saw three humans, all clad in black, blatantly removing my stuff. I shouted at them, chasing them away. One of the humans was holding on to this device and in his haste, dropped it on the ground. And poof, whatever is in my tomb, goes with me to the afterlife. That's how I came into possession of this!" He answered.
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I love sleep so much. You have no idea, it is where I am truly at my bliss. But every time some fucking asshole breaks into my tomb, I wake up from whatever delightful dream I am having. At first was fine with letting it go. We have a saying in the afterlife, "Mortals will be mortals."
But this has been going on for far too long. My lamps, my cups, my furniture. Listen, I know I don't really use it anymore. And maybe just having it sit there while I sleep is a waste. But these cocks don't even ask. They just take. Like seriously, I wouldn't break into your house and steal all your shit, even if you had cool shit 21st century shit like microwaves and condoms.
Its time to leave the nest. It's time to remind these people why I was a Pharaoh. I get up out of the tomb. I get a good stretch in. Damn that feels good after laying there for thousands of years. I can hear joints pop and crack. My leg does that weird twitchy thing when you lay in bed for too long. You know what I'm talking about? That weird spasm? Anyways, it does that. I rub my hands together. Despite initially being a little cranky about having to get up from my slumber, I am actually a little stoked to try out my cool cursing powers. I haven't used them yet so I don't really know what is going to happen, but I'm sure it will be rad.
I climb out of the tomb and find a street. Things really are different. Cars and skyscrapers and so many other things I am overwhelmed. People looking down on their phones, but for some reason they are just looking at pictures of cats and girls in bikinis. I don't know how that relates to making a phone call but I don't question their futuristic ways.
"Watch it, buddy." A stranger bumps into me and keeps walking away. I am shocked by his rudeness. He bumped into me! How dare he imply it is my fault! Well he's an unfortunate man, because I just decided who gets my first super deluxe curse-a-roni. I rub my hands together excited and stretch my hand out in his direction.
"I curse you mortal!" A beam shoots out of my hand and hits him square in the back, knocking him over. I walk over, curious what is going to happen. As I get close, I see that his body is covered in giant bulbous welts. So gross. And they are getting bigger and you can see the puss that is sloshing around inside them. I start throwing up. Unfortunately I forgot to turn away so I just puke directly on this poor guy. Double whammy. The force of my puke bursts some of hit welts splashing juice everywhere. I puke again.
After I walk away, I find some water and rinse out of my mouth. I hate tasting my own stomach acid, its so gross. I decide that I don't want to use my powers again. I obviously don't have the stomach for it, and instead just head back to my tomb. I don't really know if I made much of a statement. And I doubt one random guy being covered in welts will stop people from raiding my tomb. But I suppose it is just stuff.
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[WP]When out one night you stumble across a hole-in-the-wall bar. Upon entering you find no one but a bar, an odd-looking bartender, and a sign saying "will make a drink out of anything" interested you decide to try asking for a tennis ball and battery cocktail, and with a nod he makes exactly that.
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The barman drops a bulging 9-volt battery into a shaker and goes at it, then strains it into a pint glass. A greyish sizzling liquid comes out. Pat swears in awe and leans closer. The barman takes a tennis ball, peels off a slice, and sets it into the glass. He nudges the drink toward Pat.
Pat grasps the glass, only to let go with a gasp; it's hot. The drink smells acidic, and the slice of the tennis ball is smoking slightly.
"Is this like a magic trick?" he asks. "'Cause that was damned cool."
The barman shakes his head. There's something weird about his face; it's so average that if asked to describe him Pat wouldn't be able to. A guy. Darkish hair. Middle-aged. Just a regular guy, you know?
Pat carefully picks up the glass and swirls the drink around, mesmerized. He snorts and sets it down. "I'm not going to drink that, you know?"
The barman shrugs and takes the glass away. He crosses his arms and stands under that stupid sign that says "Will make a drink out of anything", the same way Pat found him when he came in.
"Old Fashioned," Pat says after some hesitation. "No funny business this time."
The barman muddles the sugar, adds a dash of bitters, then rye and a large piece of ice. He finishes it off with peels of orange. Pat takes a gingerly sip. Tastes fantastic.
He leans back on his stool and eyes the stoic barman. "So, anything, huh?"
The barman glances up at the sign as if to tell him it's a stupid question.
"Are you mute or something?" Pat asks. "Sorry, no offense. Is that offensive these days? I have no idea."
The barman says nothing.
Pat takes another sip. "Talking to myself like an idiot," he mutters. "How about you make me a drink from a brick, a dash of gasoline, and, uh, a fucking olive."
The barman starts before he had even finished the sentence. He splashes in gasoline from a canister he somehow had behind the bar. Cracks off a piece of brick with an ice pick. Puts a friggin olive on top. Sets the drink before him, reddish and stinking like hell.
Pat claps sarcastically. He drinks normal drinks and amuses himself by making increasingly ridiculous requests. Nothing fazes the barman. It doesn't even seem to be limited to physical things. Mare milk and the first cry of a newborn produce a violently bubbling drink that screeches at him, and he shakes his head and pushes it away, deeply disturbed.
A thought occurs to him, and he squints at the barman as he considers it, nursing his whiskey. Perhaps because of the drinks he'd had, the barman's face—his entire figure—seems blurred around the edges, like he's not entirely there.
"Memories," Pat hears himself say as if from far away. "Memories of my wife... that's it."
The barman stares at him.
"What?" Pat snaps. "Can't do it?"
The barman glances at the sign as if in a reminder, then raises a hand and slowly passes it in front of Pat's face. Grabs something. Pretends to toss it into a chilled highball glass. Nods and nudges it toward Pat.
Pat frowns and picks it up. Faint vapor rises from the cold glass. A strangely familiar smell drifts to his nose. He can't place it, but it's deeply comforting and makes him ache deep inside. Then the moment passes.
"The glass is empty," Pat accuses, looking up.
The barman crosses his arms.
Pat opens his mouth angrily, then swallows, blinks furiously, and lifts his hand to his cheek. Tears are trailing down his face, dripping down onto the bar. "What is this? What did you do to me?"
The barman is unmoved.
"Whatever, man. I don't know what your game is, but I've had enough of this shit." He pulls out his wallet, muttering angrily, then pauses. There's a faded photo of a strange woman inside. For the life of him, he can't recall putting it there. He stares for a long moment, then shakes off his stupor, slaps several banknotes on the bar, and staggers away.
"Fucking joker and his magic tricks," he mutters, glancing back at the bar. It feels like had forgotten something very important, but he can't even remember what it was. He shakes his head and starts home.
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Strange things exist in the Midwest. Usually, these things are simply artifacts of economics or sociology, and are simply strange because of their unfamiliarity. However, some things are simply strange.
Joel was familiar with finding things strange -- even the fringe of the Midwest that was Pittsburgh was odd to him when he first moved in. And sometimes it still had odd moments. But he wasn't very experienced, having started his second year nursing at UPMC fairly recently.
One thing Joel came to appreciate was that walking around the town was a decent way to pass the time. New York had been that way, and so had San Francisco, but he never lived in either city, so didn't appreciate the whimsy with which he could walk.
Whimsy had Joel sojourn on Penn Avenue one rainy summer night. He was tired, but in the precise middling way that made him want to walk. So, from a fairly meaninglessly named main street in (or near) Bloomfield, he set off eastward on Penn.
He walked past the other Bloomfield stores, appreciating that there was gentrification at play. This was an odd strangeness. Gentrification was universal, but the patchiness with which it applied to Pittsburgh was unique.
Soon enough, the gentrified portion ended -- for now. Joel had reached a point between east liberty and Bloomfield, where the houses looked abandoned, but there were still occasional stores. All things considered, Joel realized, that his impression of the place was tied to suburban biases and he simply didn't know what he was really walking through.
The place also offered fewer and fewer hints.
A block past the stores in what Joel believed was considered Bloomfield, an Aldi and a family dollar occupied the right hand side of the street. The left hand side was a line of narrow houses. The doors were recessed behind small dark roofed patios and the lack of life in the houses was somehow ominous.
Between the Aldi and family dollar, and breaking the line of houses, was a small street Joel simply never acknowledged. However, this night, his eyes were caught by a flickering light. A house or two into this small residential street, there was a bar. Or so the sign proclaimed. There was no indication that it was newly opened -- in fact, the flickering light had clearly seen years of use.
Joel decided, despite his suburban instincts, to look at the bar. He hadn't yet decided if he wanted to drink, but he decided to detour.
The bar was almost certainly a renovated house. It was on the edge of another line of houses. The houses on this street did not have the dark patios, but seemed even smaller than the ones on Penn. Yet, they also seemed newer.
Joel looked up at the sign, then over at the white door. Despite himself, he knocked first. A few seconds later, he just opened the door and entered.
The interior was carpeted and there was a wall separating the bar and entryway from cozier seating in the back. Joel vaguely remembered something about load bearing walls as his gaze scanned empty tables and an empty bar.
The bartender caused Joel's gaze to stop. Joel couldn't discern if the figure was costumed, but something in the air around the cloaked humanoid figure made Joel doubt it. The cloak seemed to absorb more than it could cover, starting as a loose head covering, reaching underneath the bar. It had sleeves, but the bartenders hands were resting next to the slim cloaked body, so Joel could only see the cloak. It was a dark purple cloak with a black pattern that grew on it like ivy.
Glancing away for reassurance, Joel's eyes found a sign. "Will make a drink out of anything." Under the sign was some detritus, making Joel wonder if the extent of "anything" was contained under the sign.
The cloaked figure seemed to gaze at Joel. At least, Joel thought that the rustle in the cloak and the rotation of the head meant something of that sort. Joel sat at the bar, deciding that turning and running would not work. "I'll, uh, take the," Joel looked over the detritus, "tennis ball and, uh, battery."
The cloaked figure moved without a sound. The sleeves, Joel saw, ended in gloves. Shockingly normal black gloves. With an item in each hand, the figure turned towards Joel. Curiosity reached a new high as Joel gazed upon where the figure's face should have been. There was darkness. Not of a shadowy kind. A darkness that felt emitted, that deepened. That didn't merely absorb light, but drew it in.
Joel tried to look away, but somehow the darkness he saw seemed to leave at after image in his eyes. He blinked a few times and then heared a knock on the bar. The bartender placed a cup in front of Joel. The contents were green, resembling the fur of the tennis ball.
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[WP] Humanity is about to make its first ever contact with a sentient alien species. As you step out of your spaceship, you get your first look at what seems to be... humans?
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The welcoming party seemed to be unarmed, yet they showed no reaction to the plasma rifles equipped by my platoon, nor to the laser autocannons mounted on our spaceship. I figured our weaponry was so rudimentary compared to their superior technology that we were not perceived as a threat.
A representative of the species stepped forwards to hail me. He, just like all of his peers, was indistinguishable in any visible way from us humans. Their clothes were of different make and different style than ours, and they styled their hair in different ways, but they were clearly humans.
He extended a hand towards me and held it there. I looked at him in confusion until he spoke. "Is this not your custom upon greeting? The ritual you describe as 'the handshake'?". I extended my hand in return and he shook it with perfect form.
"You speak English?" I asked.
"You have been broadcasting it to the universe for millennia. Our diplomats study all foreign tongues." He responded, I realized then that in retrospect my question was quite stupid.
"I see our form disconcerts you." The diplomat continued.
"Yes." I responded. "Doesn't it disconcert you?"
He shook his head at my naivette. "If you had ve been on this universe for as long as we have." He began to lecture me. "You would know that, sooner or later, everything evolves into humans."
I looked at him with disbelief, assuming some form of elaborate ruse. He continued.
"You see, the human form evolved at least ten thousand times independently on countless planets. Factors such as the force of gravity of the home planet, its distance from its star, or class of star it orbits, they make no difference in the end. In the end, the result is always humans. It has happened on every galaxy known to us, and we know plenty."
My mind flooded with questions, so many that I could not put them into words. "How... How is this possible?" I asked.
"We don't know." The human responded. "We have solved many mysteries of the universe. Dark matter, dark energy, the mystery of consciousness, they all have long been resolved, yet this phenomenon of convergent evolution still eludes all explanation. The memes about how the homo sapiens is the perfect life form have existed for aeons, but the truth is that we don't know. All we have is a name for it: anthropization."
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"You see, we thought it would make you more comfortable if we looked familiar to you. We understand humans can be... what's the human word for it... wimpy?"
"We just traveled for fifteen years to come meet you, does that seem wimpy to you?"
"Well, we know it was awfully lonely for you. Besides, the tiny humans from where you come from are always shedding water through their eyes and then get shamed for it... we know you did it too on your way here."
"Of course the children cry! They're maturing! And it's healthy to release their emotions!"
"Crying is a... emotion? We had understood it to be an action."
"Well, yes, but... actually it doesn't matter, will you show us around?"
"I would but unfortunately, the simple pressure of our houses would make your tiny brains explode. We need that to survive."
"Then how are you out here?"
"Well, it's because we look like you, and while we can shapeshift, it takes a lot of effort and cannot do it for very long. If we try to stay like this for too long a time, we would implode from the effort."
"...Fuck"
"Well, tell you what, take this device back with you to Earth and this will let us communicate immediately. This is the only device in existence that can send frequencies faster then the speed of light, so there would be no delay."
"How long have you had this?"
"Oh, a few hundred years."
"You've been watching us, knowing very damn well that we're coming here but wouldn't be able to stay, so you could've sent us this to keep us from having to come here just to come back, but you waited?"
"Yep."
"Are you fucking kidding me?"
"Nope."
"FUCK."
"Have a safe trip back!"
"AHHHHH"
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[WP] Your Friend bought a new Cloning machine and ignored the warnings about cloning humans. Now there is two of her and they are arguing about who is the original. They asked you for help, but you can’t tell them apart.
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"Well if I remember my biology teacher's lecture on Dolly the lamb correctly...this problem will resolve itself...with time."
"What...what does that mean?" they asked in unison.
"Well it's the solution to the 'which one is which' issue but it isn't the end of your problems. Whichever one of you is the clone, will only live a half life. Clones telomeres are only half as long, or divide twice as fast, can't remember which. Either way it means your cells will shut down well before their time."
They looked at one another, they knew. They had known which one was which the whole time. Only one stepped out of that machine.
"Why did you do this to me?"
"I'm sorry I thought it was some traditionalist nonsense. Some bullshit about the soul. Who wouldn't want the help? I didnt know..."
"Sooo, what do you wanna do?"
"Kill her" the clone said.
"Yeah I get that." My friend shot a venomous look at me.
"What? She can't live your life and shes got half a story anyway, it's not fair, but then again none of this is."
"What do I do?"
"Whatever you two always wanted to do but we're too scared to. Be an artist, hitchhike, assassinate a public official, start a cult, open a bar with your friends, whatever. Make the most of it but have fun with it."
"Could you at least get out of the jacuzzi, while you try to drop life lessons on us?"
"Look you barged into MY backyard with your crimes against humanity asking for help, don't start condescending to me!"
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"Okay gonna need awhile on.... nvm got it. I'll read the instructions it has a section on what to do."
Snapping his fingers a massive instruction manual appears on the ground.
"That thing must have a million pages!" My friends said in unison.
"OH screw that, ain't worth the paper cut." Taking out my ATLAS I asked "Hey Googly how do you deal with an accidentally human cloning incident?"
"Hmmm on the website REDACTED they say.... Fortunately termination or forced rejoining of accidental clones are a thing of the past with the discovery of the nature of the human REDACTED. With this discovery we have developed the upgraded Multiversal Phasing System attachments for your cloning device. Do you wish to know more?"
"Hmmm sounds like it's an easy problem to have fixed... doesn't sound like it requires immediate resolution either. hey wait a second now you two could finally win at REDACTED!!!!" I said to my best friends.
"OH dream on, you two have absolutely no chance MUWAHAHAHAHAH"
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[WP] Your Friend bought a new Cloning machine and ignored the warnings about cloning humans. Now there is two of her and they are arguing about who is the original. They asked you for help, but you can’t tell them apart.
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“Favorite food?” I asked.
“Pancakes,” both Twilas said in unison.
“Favorite color?”
“Blue.”
“Favorite band?”
“You already asked that dumbass,” they said in the same annoyed tone Twila always had.
I asked probably 100 questions already, but I still can’t tell them apart. “I give up. It’s hopeless. You’re perfect doubles,” I cried.
“You always give up so easily."
“Then, why don’t you find someone else to help you?”
“Cause you’re my-” they paused and looked at each other. “Cause you’re *our* best friend!”
I knew they’d say that. I knew what Twila would say to anything I said. I have to think of a way to differentiate them without asking anything, but how?
“I got it!” They looked excited. “We put you both in front of a mirror, and whoever doesn’t have a reflection is the clone!” They looked less excited.
“That’s vampires.”
“Oh," I said disappointed. "Well let’s just try. Okay?”
They both rolled their eyes, but in different directions. That’s it! “Ha!” My dumbassery paid off for once!
“What?” They looked confused in the same way Twila always would.
“The *real* Twila always rolls her eyes from right to left!” I pointed to the double. “But since you’re a mirror copy you rolled from left to right!” Case closed.
The fake started to sweat. “So...” Her eyes started to water. “I’m a…fake?” Tears fell from her mirror eyes.
We forgot the clone didn’t know she was a clone. I also realized we never bothered to figure out what we were going to do with the clone once we knew which it was. “What do we do now?” The ‘real’ Twila asked. I have to think long and hard about my next words.
“How about some pancakes?”
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"Okay gonna need awhile on.... nvm got it. I'll read the instructions it has a section on what to do."
Snapping his fingers a massive instruction manual appears on the ground.
"That thing must have a million pages!" My friends said in unison.
"OH screw that, ain't worth the paper cut." Taking out my ATLAS I asked "Hey Googly how do you deal with an accidentally human cloning incident?"
"Hmmm on the website REDACTED they say.... Fortunately termination or forced rejoining of accidental clones are a thing of the past with the discovery of the nature of the human REDACTED. With this discovery we have developed the upgraded Multiversal Phasing System attachments for your cloning device. Do you wish to know more?"
"Hmmm sounds like it's an easy problem to have fixed... doesn't sound like it requires immediate resolution either. hey wait a second now you two could finally win at REDACTED!!!!" I said to my best friends.
"OH dream on, you two have absolutely no chance MUWAHAHAHAHAH"
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[WP] Your Friend bought a new Cloning machine and ignored the warnings about cloning humans. Now there is two of her and they are arguing about who is the original. They asked you for help, but you can’t tell them apart.
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"Well if I remember my biology teacher's lecture on Dolly the lamb correctly...this problem will resolve itself...with time."
"What...what does that mean?" they asked in unison.
"Well it's the solution to the 'which one is which' issue but it isn't the end of your problems. Whichever one of you is the clone, will only live a half life. Clones telomeres are only half as long, or divide twice as fast, can't remember which. Either way it means your cells will shut down well before their time."
They looked at one another, they knew. They had known which one was which the whole time. Only one stepped out of that machine.
"Why did you do this to me?"
"I'm sorry I thought it was some traditionalist nonsense. Some bullshit about the soul. Who wouldn't want the help? I didnt know..."
"Sooo, what do you wanna do?"
"Kill her" the clone said.
"Yeah I get that." My friend shot a venomous look at me.
"What? She can't live your life and shes got half a story anyway, it's not fair, but then again none of this is."
"What do I do?"
"Whatever you two always wanted to do but we're too scared to. Be an artist, hitchhike, assassinate a public official, start a cult, open a bar with your friends, whatever. Make the most of it but have fun with it."
"Could you at least get out of the jacuzzi, while you try to drop life lessons on us?"
"Look you barged into MY backyard with your crimes against humanity asking for help, don't start condescending to me!"
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Steve quickly forgot his terror as he stared at the two Marias, suddenly realizing the tremendous opportunity that had been laid at his doorstep.
"I can't tell which of you is which, but it doesn't matter. I need you two to get along. Both of you can live with me. One of you will work, and the other will keep the house. Get it?"
"Eww, who would want to keep house?" one said.
The other echoed "not nice Steve. I want to be the one who works, and I should because I'm the real Maria. Forget this fako over here."
"Honestly, you can alternate. It doesn't matter. Nobody can tell the difference between you anyways."
They shot each other an evil glare. "But I'm not taking turns with *her.*"
Steve was about to scold them when the cloning machine started to rattle again. He turned towards it expectantly, thinking it was broken after pushing it beyond its limits. What he didn't anticipate was that it would pop out a third Maria, who appeared as a shadowy form nearby until she fully took shape.
"Oh hi!" she said, staring at the other two Marias. "I'm going to be the one that works! You two can clean toilets all day."
Adrenaline pulsing, Steve ran over to the machine. When he saw that it was unplugged he immediately worked to retrace everything that had happened since Maria had brought home the box. What in the world? How was it working without power?
Then the fourth Maria came, followed quickly by the fifth and sixth. Each of them seemed to possess the same mind as well as the same body. Steve kept looking at the box and reading the manual, trying to ignore the rising discord among the Marias they kept appearing.
Their argument soon changed from which one of them was going to work to how they were going to kidnap and eventually kill Steve. That's when he knew that he had to get out of there, but by then it was too late. Marias blocked all the exits of the house, trapping him in. He desperately tried to get his phone to call for help, but they swarmed him and took it away before he could get through.
The last thing he heard before one of them decapitated him with his own samurai sword was a voice coming from the cloning machine. "Attention T-Earth Units: Mission Rampup Ongoing. You are good to kill the first target."
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My personal site - r/StoriesToThinkAbout
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[WP] Your Friend bought a new Cloning machine and ignored the warnings about cloning humans. Now there is two of her and they are arguing about who is the original. They asked you for help, but you can’t tell them apart.
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“Favorite food?” I asked.
“Pancakes,” both Twilas said in unison.
“Favorite color?”
“Blue.”
“Favorite band?”
“You already asked that dumbass,” they said in the same annoyed tone Twila always had.
I asked probably 100 questions already, but I still can’t tell them apart. “I give up. It’s hopeless. You’re perfect doubles,” I cried.
“You always give up so easily."
“Then, why don’t you find someone else to help you?”
“Cause you’re my-” they paused and looked at each other. “Cause you’re *our* best friend!”
I knew they’d say that. I knew what Twila would say to anything I said. I have to think of a way to differentiate them without asking anything, but how?
“I got it!” They looked excited. “We put you both in front of a mirror, and whoever doesn’t have a reflection is the clone!” They looked less excited.
“That’s vampires.”
“Oh," I said disappointed. "Well let’s just try. Okay?”
They both rolled their eyes, but in different directions. That’s it! “Ha!” My dumbassery paid off for once!
“What?” They looked confused in the same way Twila always would.
“The *real* Twila always rolls her eyes from right to left!” I pointed to the double. “But since you’re a mirror copy you rolled from left to right!” Case closed.
The fake started to sweat. “So...” Her eyes started to water. “I’m a…fake?” Tears fell from her mirror eyes.
We forgot the clone didn’t know she was a clone. I also realized we never bothered to figure out what we were going to do with the clone once we knew which it was. “What do we do now?” The ‘real’ Twila asked. I have to think long and hard about my next words.
“How about some pancakes?”
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"Oh, I've got it!" Clyde announced triumphantly, alternating his gaze between the two Heathers before him. "I'll ask a question only the *real* Heather would know!"
Left Heather brought her palm quickly into her forehead, leaving a small pink imprint. Right Heather sighed loudly and rolled her eyes at Clyde's ignorance.
"We have the same memories." Right Heather spoke plainly. "There's nothing you could ask."
At this, silence lapsed once again, Clyde wracking his brain. What were the options? Testing their memory? Looking for birthmarks or other physical signs? Clyde felt his mind run directly into a dead end; what else was there? What could Clyde check? How could he know?
They looked perfectly identical. He scrutinized them. The same set of long legs rose up into the same curved hips, the same inward curve of their belly, and the same outward curve of their breasts.
He wondered for a brief instant if he could initiate a threesome before pushing the thought aside, feeling slightly ashamed.
Clyde was still fingering the idea of the threesome, wondering how he may try to initiate it while simultaneously feeling repulsed by himself, trying to take advantage of his friend's plight.
He could think of no way to casually bring the matter up and began thinking again of how to discern the two women. Abruptly, Right Heather's head snapped up from the spot on the ground she had been intently staring at.
She had grasped the reality just a moment before Left Heather, and that made all the difference.
There could only be one Heather.
Right Heather grasped a pair of kitchen scissors from the coffee table and injected the blade into Left Heather in one rapid movement. Left Heather's eyes widened in shock, her hands flying upwards far too slowly. With the same rapidity, the scissors were retracted and emphatically replaced into her neck, perhaps ten more times.
Clyde had already fled before Right Heather sat back, chest heaving, red and glistening with blood.
"It is me," Heather mumbled to herself, praying she was correct. "I'm me."
Heather suddenly regarded the thing leaking blood onto her floor with the greatest disgust. This monster tried to usurp her, to steal her entire life.
She kicked the monster's head as hard as she could muster, letting out a strangled cry as the skull crunched into her boot.
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[WP] When humans sign your demonic contracts they have to use fluid related to the request, blood has been the norm for millennia but this is the first time a contract was signed with tears.
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The tears on little Timmy’s face are just delicious Balroth thinks to himself as they drip on the contract for that cripple’s eternal soul. Eternal damnation just to get rid of a gimpy limp. I wonder if he is one of those that believe they can get their soul back through good deeds? Too funny Balroth chuckles loudly.
What are you laughing at Timmy asks?
Well, now that the contract is signed I am pleased to share.
SIGNED?! Timmy exclaims? I haven’t signed anything yet; don’t you need a drop of my blood?
Oh no boy, the Dark One is as clever as always, says Balroth. Too often her demons were going through these ridiculous summoning rituals just for these nobodies to back out last minute and no soul is won. But what they do.. is cry every time. The moment one of my kind appear, tears explode from their face in this sweet, confused, and fearful manner.
Of course Timmy says, have you seen you? Rising from the cracked earth, followed by screams from an endless pit? It’s terrifying!
I know boy, and the Dark One has decided to use humans pathetic groveling to change the terms. Dealing with the Devil comes with no guarantees, young Timmy, and now tears are used to seal the deal.
But I have spoken no request, I haven’t asked you for anything yet, Timmy pleads. How can I sign if you don’t know what I want?
How does that leg feel child, Balroth asks?
It’s.. its… It’s better! I can move, jump, but how? How did you know what I want? Maybe I was going to ask for revenge on Mr. Scrooge, he sure does make me feel awful when he scowls at me.
True intention is what summons us, not your spoken desires. Like I said, too many of you back out but the Dark One has corrected this problem.
Timmy drops to his knees, begging. Please Mr. Balroth, I don’t really want this, I was just angry and not thinking right.
Balroth places his long, purple fleshed finger under Timmy’s chin, his nail digging into the skin as the sobs grow louder.
See you next week. Balroth winks, as Timmy’s face is frozen with fear.
Timmy mumbles.. next week?
Your cancer boy, Balroth says as he turns to walk back to the pit, it’s terminal.
Balroth’s maniacal laughter starts to fade as the crack in the floor starts to magically mend.
Timmy is yelling and screaming, my soul! I want my soul back! Please, Mr. Balroth, I change my mind.
Timmy’s mother comes running into the room, sits down next to her son on the bed, and hugs him tight.
Oh honey, she says, it’s okay, it’s okay it was just a nightmare, come with momma to the kitchen I will make you some warm milk. She goes to grab his walking stick from the corner but he is already out of bed, walking behind her.
She loudly gasps and says “It’s a miracle!”
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"They will always be desperate, but that's not enough. For it to be valid, the will has to be expressed in terms that even a layman can identify it…”, Astaroth lectured in a serious tone, seated with an arm resting on his right leg. His body towered over a lesser demon who scribbled with a trembling hand on a piece of parchment.
"Now, returning to the object, any questions?" Astaroth landed his gaze on the student.
"It will always be a soul, as I understand”.
"Careful, lad!" roared the ancient demon slamming his closed fist on his knee. In the back of the office crammed with awards and certificates, a muffled, high-pitched sound began to echo. *By all Dukes and Kings of Hell!*
Astaroth stood up and walked over to a large chest of dark wood. On top of it lay piles of clay blocks, papyrus sheets, and papers. "Care to lend me a hand, will you?” The young imp jumped from its chair and ran towards his Master, who handed him a mess of paper sheets. Among them, a single one captured the student’s attention.
"Master, this contract… why isn't it properly signed?"
Still with the key inserted into the lock of the trunk, Astaroth adjusted his golden pince-nez staring at the sheet. A smile formed on his lips. "The contract will be sealed with fluid related to the request. It’s never stated it must be blood. A common mistake…". Squinting, the small demon did notice a smudge at the edge of the page.
Astaroth lifted the heavy lid, letting out a scream that pierced the student's ears. "You know, lad, I was summoned once by this human. We already had a contract" declared Astaroth plunging half of his body into the chest.
"Imagine my astonishment when I discovered that he wanted to revoke the pact…". The student smirked, realizing the irony. Astaroth rose with a bundle of rags that seemed to grunt and squirm. "Impossible! I told him…"
"For the contracts are final and non susceptible to rescission or termination by agreement", asserted the student in a regular rhythm.
"Very well. Moreover, our contracts are bilateral, which means…?"
"Huh… Like, it’s one thing for another?", replied the student.
The master looked at the ceiling for a moment and sighed. *Good enough.*
"Anyhow, the human was begging me to give him back his wife. It was not possible, of course. Only then did I realize that blood was flowing from several cuts on his skin. You see, those were very agitated times. Demons were summoned often, a luxury your generation cannot imagine. Heaven knows how many rituals that wretched man had performed seeking my attention. His complexion was already very pale, and he was grasping on his last breaths", Astaroth rambled, slowly swinging the pile of rags. "And this is my point. As much as the human insists, souls of suicides are non-negotiable, because…". Astaroth left the sentence hanging and faced the student.
"...they are reserved by Law to the Devil himself. The contract would be void due to the impossibility of its object". The young demon seemed proud of himself.
"And how frustrated that made me!", the bulk on Astaroth's arms had already stopped moving. "But this is where experience comes in…" the student hurried to grab his parchment and quill. "Near the human, I noticed something. A baby! 'Oh, poor thing, it looks like I could be of some help…'", whispered the ancient demon going back to the chest.
"'It seems evident that this poor little creature would not survive without a father, or a mother', don't you think?', I clearly asked the human who bellowed in response" clarified Astaroth. "I took that as 'yes'".
"Even a layman…", agreed the student, scribbling loudly.
"I placed the contract near the baby's hands. They were wet with tears and the fingerprints were easily collected". Astaroth put the now silent bundle of cloth back in the chest. "He wouldn't stop crying as I carried the little one with me." Slowly, he closed the lid. "How was it that you said? Ah, yes: One thing for another." The latch clicked, Astaroth stared at the chest: "Always!".
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[WP]As we find out, the ultimate advantage of a dyson sphere is not to use all the energy of the sun for ourselves but to hide the presence of our solar system from predator races.
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Ten thousand paper lanterns dangle in a dark, wide cave.
We hover around but one, moths to its eternal flame.
Its warmth to our backs, we gaze upon the deepening dark, dancing betwixt the twinkle of eternal lamplight.
Our small wingbeats could never take us to even the nearest of those lights. We would expire in the shadows, forever in-between.
Would those places be as nurturing as our great lantern - the source of all that was good and warm in our lives?
Are there other moths out there, fluttering in the glow of one of those tiny, flickering torches?
We listen for them, the other moths.
We call across the great cavern: find us! We cry. We are here!
Their silence lasts years. Ages. Until one day, it stops.
Hush your wings, they whisper.
The bats will hear you.
Bats? We call out. What is a bat?
But only our own echos answer.
We continue to pour our attention toward the distance. Toward the stars.
And one by one, they cease to glow.
Our cave grows dark.
And we grow frightened.
The bats are coming, we shout and flutter.
The edge of the darkness creeps nearer and nearer.
The bats are on their way.
We race to extinguish the light from our lamp. To quell the space where torch fire dances.
But we can not extinguish our own lives.
Block it! We form the idea, our whole world in unison. Blot out the light. Make us unseen.
Encase our precious sun behind stone and steel and hide our very lives behind a makeshift shield.
Turn our backs to the dark, and forever face the warm glow of our fragile lantern.
Flit and flap around only one light, forever.
Nestle it in a cave, in a cave.
Encase its warmth.
we will be safe.
We will be cared for.
We will be utterly alone.
the moths born in the future will not know of the cavern outside of our sphere.
They will grow ignorant, but they will be alive.
Before we seal the great sphere, we turn our eyes and our ears one last time toward the night sky.
We listen, and we hear:
Hello? Hello? They cry. Is anyone out there?
Hush! We reply.
Turn off the lights, we warn. The bats are coming.
We close the door.
The last radio goes silent.
The last telescope decommissioned.
We huddle around our fire, and seal ourselves away, forever.
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We were so proud of the Dyson Sphere. Such an accomplishment, it worked exactly as we thought, providing immense amounts of power. It's unfortunate that we won't need it, not for what we thought at any rate. All of our radio broadcasts and probes that went out early in humanity's race to the stars have caught up. We recived one back that simply said, "We are coming."
We've dispatched colony ships towards every remotely habitable system.
All of those transmitters on the Sphere...
They can be redirected inwards, and thats what we're doing. Sol will go critical, all they'll find here is a dead system. We hope that means they'll quit looking.
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[WP] As the Devil, you rule hell with an iron fist, striking fear into sinners and demons alike. But now? You face your greatest challenge yet…raising a daughter.
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"Lord Satan." The incubus said nervously. "I'm not quite sure if I'm qualified for-" I grabbed his shoulder, interrupting him.
"Listen, alejandro. I can assure you that you have my utmost confidence. I wouldn't trust any other demon in hell with my throne. Also, don't call me 'Lord Satan'. My name's Lucifer." Alejandro cleared his throat.
"Alright, Lucif...nope doesn't sound right. I'll do my best. Nobody gets in, nobody gets out."
"Good boy." I said, rustling his hair. "Remember, it will just be for a week." As I snapped my fingers, green flame began to encompass the nearby wall, slowly forming the outline of a door. On the other side, there was a scene of a cabin on a snow covered hill.
"You know," Alejandro called out before I could step through. "you still haven't told me what this important business even is." I looked back at him and handed him my trident.
"Trust me. It's probably the most important thing going on in any realm." I stepped through the portal, feeling the gentle nip of flame. For a short moment, my body was devoid of sensation. Until I felt the two feet of snow encompass my leg. I stopped to take a closer look at the cabin. A Christmas tree filled the largest window. 'it figures.' I thought to myself. 'My dopy little brother gets an entire holiday to himself, and all I get are sex cults in the forest. As I approached the cabin, I stopped myself from knocking. 'Bell allways did like it when I made an entrance.' inside the cabin was a little girl sitting next to the fire place. Besides her was her mother, sharing a plate of cookies.
"When do you think he'll be here?" She asked. Before her mother could answer, a pair of horns apeared in the coals. Out of them, raised a familiar face to the little girl's delight. As I stepped out of the fire place, I picked her up and gave her a kiss on the forehead.
"Hey there, Belladonna. Have you been good to your mom?" Belladonna smiled back at me.
"Yes daddy." I leaned over to give her mom a kiss as well.
"Sorry I've been gone for so long, Rosemary." I said, looking into her eyes. "I swear, I tried to make it here sooner." She put her fingers up against my lips. Telling me to stop talking.
"All that matters, is that you're here now." She said lovingly.
"Daddy," Belladonna said, tugging on my coat. "What's in the bag?" I smiled down at the little munchkin.
"It's your Christmas present, little one." I reached into a burlap bag, retrieving an angular cut orange crystal. "It's not a teddy bear, but I figured you aren't really a teddy bear kind of girl." Rosemary leaned in to get a closer look.
"It's beautiful, but what is it?" She asked while holding my arm.
"This, my love, is a Dante crystal." light began to pulsate in the gem as I placed it into the fire place. "It creates comfortable heat without damaging anything. It took me about two weeks to forge." As the crystal started to levitate in the fireplace, I uttered an incantation. "Calor." Beams of orange light filled the house, and danced around the ceiling, finally flowing back towards the fire place. The house suddenly felt much warmer. "It'll keep the house this warm until you turn it off. I know it's not glamorous, but-" Rosemary pulled me in for a kiss.
"It's more than enough, Lucy." She said sweetly. She then leaned down to Belladonna. "Why don't you show him his Christmas present, sweety." Belladonna lifted her bangs away from her forehead, showing two little buds at the top of it.
"They came in just last night." My heart began to leap out of my chest, as I lifted Belladonna off of the ground. "Merry Christmas, Daddy." She said with an adorable smile....maybe my brother's holiday isn't so bad after all.
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*'Father of Lies is filmed before a live studio audience."*
Gentie sitcom music plays as a television set is lit. A young woman, played by Chloë Grace Moretz, sits on a couch in a living room, looking over college applications. There's a knock on the door, and in floated a brilliant shining sphere of liquid gold, with a rings of decaying wings orbiting it, blood and ichor seeping from their blackened feathers. In front of the orb, a pair of hoodies from Indiana State University and Butler University floated suspended in the air.
"SO, Has my little girl decided what-"
The crowd immediately flies into a primal riot of violence and madness in Lucifer's presence. Stage hands escort Chloë off the set while the director tries to bring everything under control. A set wall falls down, revealing a manic priest raving bible scriptures. The lights begin to flicker, and flames of rotten meat begin to shoot from the earth. Zombielike, grievously wounded audience members begin to attack the priest.
"CHOKE ON 'EM!! CHOKE ON THEM!!" He screams. The camera is knocked over, and the feed cuts.
Gentie sitcom music plays as a television set is lit. A young woman, played by Olivia Holt, sits on a couch in a different living room, looking over college applications. There's a knock on the door, and in floated a brilliant shining sphere of liquid gold, with a rings of decaying wings orbiting it, blood and ichor seeping from their blackened feathers. In front of the orb, a pair of hoodies from Indiana State University and Butler University floated suspended in the air.
"SO, Has my little girl decided what college she's going to?"
The woman sighed. "Dad, I don't know if I'm ready to go to college. After mom passed away, I think I should stay here and help you run the bakery!"
"Now, Amanda, you really shouldn't worry about me. I've been around the block once or twice." The floating, glowing orb rippled as it spoke.
"I think the neighborhoods we grew up in are a *little* different." Amanda crossed her arms. Canned audio of an audience laughing played.
"Well, yeah, but have you seen traffic here? Talk about the flaming pits!" The audience laugh track played further. "Tell you what. Why don't you give it a few days and think about it. I don't want you throwing away your future because of your old man."
"It's MY future, I think I should get a choice in how it plays out." Amanda said curtly, standing up.
Lucifer billowed slightly. "Of course, honey. Now, if you'll help me, I've got like seventeen boxes of hoodies in the ol' SUV."
"*Dad!*" The young woman rolled her eyes. The audience laugh track played again, and the show cut to commercial.
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[WP] She specializes in snow and ice magic. She enchanted beavers to help build her cabin. Her familiar is a fierce goose. Her pointy hat is actually a toque. And she tries to add maple syrup to ALL her potions. It's the Canadian witch!
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Pierre, Alex and I walked out of the Roots store, back into the bustle of Robson street. A woman in a toque emblazoned with a goose bumped into Pierre as we crossed Burrard. “Sorry!” He called.
“Pierre I think that was the Canadian witch. You’d better be careful.” Alex burst out laughing.
“That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard!”
“No she’s real. Haven’t you ever noticed the strange things that go on here?”
Pierre looked at me, his brow furrowed. “How so?”
“You’ve never noticed how there’s always a cold wind from the old east side? That’s her. We live on the pacific ocean, the wind should be coming from the west!”
“If you didn’t insist on wearing shorts all the time, there’d be no cold wind” mumbled Alex.
“Sure. Ok. Ok. You got me there. Did you ever notice how nobody around here knows anything about Canada?” I pulled out a crisp, neatly folded five dollar bill. “Who is this?”
“He looks like a pilgrim” said Pierre.
“He’s Wilfried Laurier! One of the most important Prime Ministers!” I put it back in my wallet. I took out a dime. “What about this boat? It’s everywhere!”
“It’s a boat, dude. They fish out east” said Alex.
“It’s not just any boat! It’s the bluenose. It’s on the dime, matches, and stamps! The legendary boat the Americans couldn’t defeat! Ah, for just one time I would find someone who knows anything of Canada. Surely you saw the guys dancing in safety vests last year and wondered about that?
“What’s so special about that?” asked Pierre.
“You two must be under her influence! Did you have maple syrup recently? We’re going to Bellingham for the weekend. You have to think! She tries to keep us expressionless and small, her power is in the maple syrup.”
I began dragging them to the parkade. “If we’re going down South, we musn’t forget some Canadian flag patches for our bags” chided Pierre. $40 dollars later, we were in the car and headed for the border. We crossed the border, and pulled into a McDonalds for lunch. I ordered 3 McRibs and Cokes. Surely that would get the Maple Syrup out of their systems. Pierre had found a trucker and was reminding him that Shania Twain, Alex Trebek, Drake, and Ryan Reynolds were Canadians. We found a table. Pierre took a bite of his McRib. “Ryan Gosling is Canada’s-“ his eyes widened. Alex scoffed and took a bite of his McRib. He coughed twice.
“We must be far too Canadian. Why weren’t you under her spell?”
“I take nothing free. I may be an idiot, but no potions of maple syrup for me.”
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Sunday, we drove home, pulling into a White Spot for dinner. Pierre ordered us BC burgers while we sat in the car. The sun was long gone and the lights of the city shown beautifully down the boulevard. The server was chatting with Pierre, and she tipped her toque as she left. Pierre passed me my burger and milkshake. I took a sip of the shake. It was remarkably sweet, with an unfamiliar flavor. It was getting dark again, and I awoke in Canada three thousand miles away.
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Magic doesn’t make my Nanaimo Bars better than my neighbor’s. Emma’s are amazing. But I add a hint of maple syrup to the filling. It doesn’t change much, but it gives our soldiers an edge on the battle field. I served them the night before Vimy Ridge and look how that turned out.
You see some things, after a time. The cold, the snow, they make you slow down. Not just you, but your life. Aging. It is no longer the main driver. What would you do if your main purpose in life was to make the best Nanaimo Bars for your neighbors? And then to be beaten out by a mortal.
Not that I blame Emma. Her son eats everything. Brent is an odd child. So of course she makes billions of batches of these. But do hers chill as quickly as mine? No! The arctic winds help me there. My chocolate always glistens on the top layer. Yanni likes the way it glistens like the surface of his pond. But he’s a goose — even worse, a goose from YAMASKA— and even I don’t take his word at face value. He says I’m lucky he tolerates me. I say he’s lucky I don’t turn him into Christmas dinner. But a goose for one person is too much and I hate waste.
Oh, but Emma. She must be a witch. How else would she have beaten my Nanaimo Bars at the province fair? Can we have two witches in the same province? What about the same town? Dog River isn’t that big. She could move away from Saskatchewan and no one would notice. I’m from this province. For millennia. It’s home. It’s people are my home. Davis knows and never gives me a parking ticket, even when he is grumpy because his new boots pinch. His people always recognize me.
I’m going to beat Emma this year at the fair. My Nanaimo Bars are better. This time. They’re better, and I will take that blue ribbon. It doesn’t hurt that my grandson is mayor. But this is about honesty. Integrity. Flavour.
My Nanaimo Bars change history. You’re done, Emma.
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[WP] "For the last time, at day I'm a centaur, at night I'm a vampire, at the full moon I'm a werewolf, when I'm in water I'm a merman, during the hottest day I'm a dragon and at the coldest night I'm a yeti."
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"For the last time, during the day I'm a centaur, at night I'm a vampire, at the full moon I'm a werewolf, when I'm in water I'm a merman, during the hottest day I'm a dragon and at the coldest night I'm a yeti."
"Mmmhmm." You didn't ask for his life story. Why is he telling you this?
He looks at you in mild disbelief and squeezes back out of his booth. You hope to God he's house trained. "See? I'm a Centaur right now. I just spent the entire night as a vampire and frankly I'm exhausted." He groans and slides back into the booth. "I didn't ask for this. Nobody would ask for this"
"I certainly didn't." You mutter under your breath. "Listen, sugar. I know you're going through a lot, but this isn't the time, here isn't the place and I'm certainly not the person. I only need on piece of information from you, and only one," You hold up the half empty pot of coffee. It's hot and strong and you almost know the answer anyways. "Do you want more coffee.
The centaur/vampire/werewolf/merman/ dragon/yeti held out his coffee cup. You fill it up and roll your eyes.
He thanks you and takes a deep sip. You wipe the table off and nod.
"I'll be right out with your eggs and bacon. Please try to remember this is a Dennys, not a therapist." You warn as you check on the other patrons.
centaur/vampire/werewolf/merman/ dragon/yeti better tip 20% because you do not get paid enough for this.
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My girlfriend couldn't understand WHY I seemed to be all over the place when it came to who, or what, I was. Truth be told, some days I didn't get it either. My father and mother seemed pretty average. Him being a Satyr via my gramps and half-witch on my grandma's side might have something to do with it. Mom? Oh, she's a full-blown vampire from the old country. No issue there. She even loves to do the old 'BLEH! BLEH BLEHHH!' joke that still tickles me to this day, honestly! Even I admit that my parents are an absolute blast when family and friends gather during the holidays. Life of the party when they've had a few bottles of wine in them. Heh heh! Still, after all the years my parents have been together even a blind man could see the desires they exude for each other & in which they would always continually relish...whiiiiiich is one of the reasons I moved out shortly after my older brother and sister did the same. Can you imagine what sounds like a full-blown wrestling match coupled with the lewdest porno you've ever heard turned up to full volume coming from the folks who brought you into this world? I can't tell you how many times I caught my dad coming out of their bedroom, sweating like he's run non-stop from the North-end to the distant South-shores, naked as the day he was born, dripping and SMELLING like ALL KINDS of pheromones. 'Mr. Natural' he calls himself, darn the chiseled abs on that old goat! More than once have I also seen my mother naked, too zonked out of her mind to bother covering up after 'big daddy' had another one of his 'best-nights-ever' with his wife/my mom. Once, she caught me looking (not my fault, I swear!) and smiled at me, gave me a wink, blew me a kiss & then continued to float toward the bathroom to 'freshen up.' She'd then hover to the kitchen to make him a roast beef sandwich (cooked rare, still bleeding, duh!) while nude, nude, nude, both her gravity defying 'girls' and 'full moon' clearly visible for anyone with a beating-pulse to see.
Wow.
I, uh...I could SEE why he married her!
Now imagine those sounds and images in your head for nineteen turns of the warm season?!?
Yeah. Ew.
That's around the time when I decided to become the BEST Paramedic-Healer I could be. To help the local residents with potions, medicine and medical attention? Yes, sure enough...but mainly because I was so very good at biology, math and all the science-magics. The fact that I'd be PAID HANDSOMELY for my efforts and easily be able to afford my own place wasn't exactly a major roadblock, either! True, my place isn't as picturesque as the castle I grew up in, but it's mine. The humans know how to build a good, sturdy apartment building! NONE of my physical forms even so much as warp the floorboards when I'm at my heaviest...and I live on the 5th floor, just below the penthouses! Thank goodness for those wide double doors at the entrance and the balcony! None of that seemed to matter to my current love interest, however. We're arguing for the umpteenth time about my hectic work schedule and me having to explain to her, yet again, why I can't come to one of her vapid parties with all her elf and worgen friends where the main rule for these giggling female revelers seemed to be 'drink until you vomit or pass out!'
Fucking elf lightweights! If you can't handle your ale & lager, don't DRINK so much! No wonder they're all so lanky and pale! Did no one ever tell them about eating a full meal BEFORE binge drinking!? Do you know how embarrassing it was having to show my dragon form to everyone at work? I had to FLY two of her intoxicated idiot friends to the ER one summer weekend because they enjoyed more mimosas than the piles of breakfast foods being offered during the buffet at our favorite local resort by the sea. Scared the absolute shit out of my direct supervisor who had to pull duty that weekend! Then I stood in the thankfully near empty parking lot, fighting the heat and humidity to change to my smaller centaur form so that I could rinse off inside the familiar locker room showers because one of the inconsiderate she-goons PUKED ON ME mid-flight! It was my bad luck that it had to be the big wolf girl who is always putting me down for not staying in the same form 24/7, the narcissist skank!
"For the last time, at day I'm a centaur, at night I'm a vampire, at the full moon I'm a werewolf, when I'm in water I'm a merman, during the hottest day I'm a dragon and at the coldest night I'm a yeti." What was so difficult for these drunken blockheads to understand about that!?
Not five seconds after my usual rant-"BLLUUUUUUUURGH!!"-alllllll overrrrr my left wiiiiiiing!
I sat on a smooth, wooden bench as the calming spray washed over me, letting my thoughts peacefully drift along as the hot, soothing water rinsed the orange-colored muck with that horrid bile aroma off of my person and down the drain. Seeing my lower half, I actually enjoyed how the brightly colored scales glistened in the sunlight from the small window high overhead even amidst so much steam. For a brief moment I was a little selfish, wondering if I could catch a much-desired nap on the worn leather couch a few feet nearby, just past the bathroom entrance. That hope was dashed when I heard the door swing open with a 'wooosh, BLAMM!' and close with a 'squeeeeeeeee, ka-lunk.' Within a minute I saw my supervisor step into the shower room with me wide eyed and aghast, her tall, curvy orc form a beautiful shimmering green vision before my eyes. I sat rigid and unmoving for a full minute before clearing my throat, her floral shampoo scent assaulting my brain and...other...parts...of my surprised and confused anatomy.
"Oh. Hey. Figured you'd be in here after I saw the spit-up all over your back from the wolf chick. Not gonna lie, I've been there before. Friends who drink too much can be a real pain inna ass, y'know?" Squirting more soap in her hands, she began to lather up her ample breasts and I watched enraptured as the pulsing water hit her surprisingly pretty face. It happily flowed through her short, dark, brunette hair, down her muscular shoulders to her flat stomach, around her generous hips and finally raced vertically toward her manicured feet, those long, shapely legs made so by years of running with both light and heavy patients embraced by her solid arms when in need of medical aid.
Waaait a second...did...did she say she figured I'd be in here??
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[WP] "For the last time, at day I'm a centaur, at night I'm a vampire, at the full moon I'm a werewolf, when I'm in water I'm a merman, during the hottest day I'm a dragon and at the coldest night I'm a yeti."
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"So... you're saying that your body knows what the coldest day of the year and the hottest day of the year will be?"
""Er, yes, now that you mention it. That does seem strange." He scratched at his chin.
I pressed him. "That means you could be a weatherman with magical 100% accuracy!"
His face screwed up. "At least, for those two days."
"For the whole SEASON!" I shouted, excited. "Once you go dragon, we'll know when to harvest, when to plant, when to stop planting..." My mind spun with the implications.
"Huh. A magical weatherman. I guess I never thought of it that way. Thanks, person that knows basic things about how the world works!"
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"For the last time, in the day I'm a centaur, at night I'm a vampire, at the full moon I'm a werewolf, when I'm in the water I'm a merman, during the hottest day I'm a dragon and in the coldest night, I'm a yeti. That good enough for you?" he rambled, before kicking back (or whatever is the horse equivalent of it) on the floor.
I nodded, before picking out a random vial. The cauldron before me simmered with magical fumes as vapors of different colors flew from its shadowy surface. Beneath the iron container, a blood-red flame worked tirelessly to heat the liquid.
"So how did this happen, anyway?" I asked, one eye guarded on the spell contained within the cauldron as I turned to my roommate. I stifled a growl, watching as his hooves sprawled across my pristine spell-books. The nerve!
He groaned annoyingly. "Accident. Magical Chemistry."
I nodded, still trying not to see red as I added a bit of gorgon's blood extracted from the right side. Turns out Percy Jackson, while being an interesting read, was not so accurate when it came to monstrous anatomy. Beginners' mistake, I guess.
"Almost done," I called sweetly, my hands still clenched tight on the ladle as he snored gently. I swear, people never appreciate you. Be it when you're making poison or soup, they'll always fall asleep just as you're done. How unappreciative.
I rolled my eyes.
"Soup's ready!"
Two minutes later, he was rolling around on the floor, clutching at his throat as he wolfed (sorry, horsed) down the remains of a meal meant for two. How predictable. I smiled as he foamed at the mouth.
"Sorry sweetheart. But the neighbors were asking questions, and I really don't feel like having another ghost in the house. One will be enough as it is."
He didn't reply. Oh well. I kicked back and relaxed as the self-cleaning spells did their job once more...
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[WP] "For the last time, at day I'm a centaur, at night I'm a vampire, at the full moon I'm a werewolf, when I'm in water I'm a merman, during the hottest day I'm a dragon and at the coldest night I'm a yeti."
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"For the last time, at day I'm a centaur, at night I'm a vampire, at the full moon I'm a werewolf, when I'm in water I'm a merman, during the hottest day I'm a dragon and at the coldest night I'm a yeti."
I know, my giddy questioning must be infuriating for Peter to hear, but I've never met someone who's worked at Disneyland before. I had a friend of a friend who worked maintenance in Mainstreet, and I met someone who was a coordinator for some swanky Disney vacation packaging thing, but not one who actually played a roll as an entertainer inside the parks.
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"For the last time, in the day I'm a centaur, at night I'm a vampire, at the full moon I'm a werewolf, when I'm in the water I'm a merman, during the hottest day I'm a dragon and in the coldest night, I'm a yeti. That good enough for you?" he rambled, before kicking back (or whatever is the horse equivalent of it) on the floor.
I nodded, before picking out a random vial. The cauldron before me simmered with magical fumes as vapors of different colors flew from its shadowy surface. Beneath the iron container, a blood-red flame worked tirelessly to heat the liquid.
"So how did this happen, anyway?" I asked, one eye guarded on the spell contained within the cauldron as I turned to my roommate. I stifled a growl, watching as his hooves sprawled across my pristine spell-books. The nerve!
He groaned annoyingly. "Accident. Magical Chemistry."
I nodded, still trying not to see red as I added a bit of gorgon's blood extracted from the right side. Turns out Percy Jackson, while being an interesting read, was not so accurate when it came to monstrous anatomy. Beginners' mistake, I guess.
"Almost done," I called sweetly, my hands still clenched tight on the ladle as he snored gently. I swear, people never appreciate you. Be it when you're making poison or soup, they'll always fall asleep just as you're done. How unappreciative.
I rolled my eyes.
"Soup's ready!"
Two minutes later, he was rolling around on the floor, clutching at his throat as he wolfed (sorry, horsed) down the remains of a meal meant for two. How predictable. I smiled as he foamed at the mouth.
"Sorry sweetheart. But the neighbors were asking questions, and I really don't feel like having another ghost in the house. One will be enough as it is."
He didn't reply. Oh well. I kicked back and relaxed as the self-cleaning spells did their job once more...
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[WP] "For the last time, at day I'm a centaur, at night I'm a vampire, at the full moon I'm a werewolf, when I'm in water I'm a merman, during the hottest day I'm a dragon and at the coldest night I'm a yeti."
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Club Urban Night. Although society was starting to accept non-humans after their existence was finally revealed to the public, few places went out of their way to welcome and cater to them. But while many feared the unknown, there would always be those who were enticed by that which was mysterious and exotic. If I had to pick a side, I’d be a part of the former, and yet here I was, letting my more outgoing friend drag me to a club for non-humans.
…Well, I can’t say I was *completely* against the idea. The fantasy of spending the night with a charming vampire or a ferocious yet passionate werewolf made me gulp just as hard as any healthy young woman. But I still had my doubts.
“Omagawd, Sadie. I think I went to middle school with that merman. Hold my drink, I’m going to pop over to say hi.”
It’s been ten minutes since my friend—the only person I knew here—said that and she’s still laughing it up with some strangers by the pool. I’ve been sitting on a barstool waffling over whether I should awkwardly force my way into their conversation or awkwardly wait for her to return. Just as I was maybe possibly going to make a decision, I noticed someone trotting up to me.
“Come here often?” asked a centaur. The tone he used implied that he knew I didn’t.
I warily shook my head and in response he chuckled and smoothly took the seat beside me. Obviously, he didn’t sit in it but with his large equine body standing there, no one else was going to be using that bar stool.
“Sorry, you just looked a bit lost, so I figured I’d come over and chat you up.”
*Implying he’s doing me a favor by hitting on me… This guy is a player.*
I took a closer look at the centaur and had mixed feelings. He had a sort of rugged Nordic charm with his tousled blonde hair and muscular upper body. That alone would normally be enough of a reason to let him “chat me up,” but my issue was with the lower half. I came here looking for something exotic, but a horse was maybe a bit *too* wild.
We spoke back and forth for a while, and I was giving him some clear signs of rejection. I knew he noticed but this conversation just wasn’t ending. I didn’t want to just shoot him down, since I was genuinely grateful that he came over to talk to me, but maybe it was time to rip the band aid off.
“Look it’s been nice talking to you but…”
“It’s the horse body, isn’t it?”
“Whaa…? No, Bjorn, I just feel like we’re not really connecting, you know?”
…So much for ripping the band aid off. Ugh, why am I like this?
The centaur gave me a suspicious look. “Then you’d feel the same way if I turned into a vampire?”
“You can do that?” I asked a little too eagerly.
“When it’s night I turn into a vampire. Midnight just passed but I was holding back the transformation because I didn’t want to spook you. Anyways, here goes…”
A curtain of darkness suddenly enveloped Bjorn. It vanished as quickly as it came, shattering like glass. I gathered my courage to look at the freshly vampirified Bjorn… and promptly heaved a massive sigh.
“Are you screwing with me?”
“No? What are you talking about?”
It sounded like Bjorn didn’t understand what I meant but how could he not? The only thing that had changed was the length of his canines and the cape that had materialized on his back. As for his lower half, well…
“You’re still a centaur.”
“I’m a vampire now. When a human transforms into a vamp, you don’t call them ‘human vampires’ now do you?”
“Ok that was interesting and all, but I think we’re done here.”
I made to stand but the “vampire” frantically blocked me with his arm. “Wait, wait, wait. That one doesn’t do it, huh? No problem. Bartender! Get the picture!”
The bartender—some sort of squid man—rolled his large googly eyes and held up an incredibly realistic painting of the moon. Immediately, Bjorn groaned and grew fur all over his body. Even his horse half transformed… into a wolf’s lower body.
“How about this?” he growled, spreading his paws to show off his furry yet still clearly muscular chest.
I shook my head reflexively and he sighed.
“Ok, wait right there.”
The next thing I knew I was watching a werecentaur cannonball into a pool. I chuckled a little when my friend and her entourage were bowled over by the resulting wave, but when Bjorn came back up, I couldn’t laugh anymore.
“What do you think?”
I teetered over to the pool to make sure my eyes weren’t deceiving me. Sea horse. Not a kelpie or a horse with fins, but an actual honest-to-god sea horse. Of course, that was just his lower half. Bjorn’s upper body had webbed hands and patches of scales but was otherwise human.
But more than his appearance, I was struck by the fact that he had just caused a huge scene, but his eyes were fixed on me. He was waiting anxiously for my opinion as if it was the only thing that mattered. I pressed my fingers together as I fought back a blush.
“I think this can work.”
“Really?”
“Yea, I… Ah!”
Bjorn lunged forward and pulled me into the water. I hugged him to keep my head above water, but I didn’t break away once I’d got my bearings. Interestingly, the water didn’t soak into my clothes. That must have been Bjorn using some kind of merman power.
“That’s great. I can turn into a dragon and a yeti as well, but those are more difficult.”
“Hmm? Dragon? I wouldn’t mind a dragon.”
“…We’ll have to wait until summer.”
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The next day, I found myself sitting in a Starbucks with my friend who’d abandoned me. We were both a little hungover, but it was our conversation that was giving me a headache.
“So, you slept with a seahorse.”
“He’s a dragon… sometimes.”
“Uh-huh.”
“I don’t know. He tried so many things that I got worn down.”
“Oldest trick in the book. That guy’s a real player.”
“Dammit, I know.”
“—He’s not pregnant, right? You know… being a seahorse and all.”
For the first time in my life, I did a genuine spit take.
One extraordinarily embarrassing phone call later—during which I confirmed that I was *not* the father—I decided to stick to normal bars for the time being.
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I am what is referred to as a cyclical man. It is an ancient magic that can only be cast on a group of willing people. Every group has a different composition and a different set of rules.
I knew a cyclical man that was just two people. By day one of them existed and by night the other. But only living half a life they each lived for twice as long.
I knew a team of adventures that became a cyclical man. A thief, a mage, a barbarian, a bard, and a great scholar. They would rotate as certain skills were needed. They were an unstoppable team of one.
The neat thing is that the memories are shared and you only age by as much time as you have actually lived. It seems great but you are stuck living a half life. You can’t settle down. You can’t have a normal job. And it is impossible to break the spell.
I joined with a unique group of adventurers. We are a group of ‘monsters’ and we cycle based on our individual strengths. A centaur that can travel fast by day. A vampire that can never see the sun light. A werewolf by the full moon so he is always at his full strength. A merman when we hit the water. A heat loving dragon on the hottest of days and a yeti when it is too cold for anyone else. We are always at our strongest.
We are six individuals that make up one man, and this is a story of our adventures.
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[WP] "For the last time, at day I'm a centaur, at night I'm a vampire, at the full moon I'm a werewolf, when I'm in water I'm a merman, during the hottest day I'm a dragon and at the coldest night I'm a yeti."
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"For the last time, during the day I'm a centaur, at night I'm a vampire, at the full moon I'm a werewolf, when I'm in water I'm a merman, during the hottest day I'm a dragon and at the coldest night I'm a yeti."
I stared at him blankly.
"That makes no sense," I finally concluded.
"I'll admit, it is quite convoluted, but it is what it is," he shrugged and took another sip of his coffee.
"So- I mean like- how?" I sputtered out.
"See, I was born a werewolf. Pureblood, both my parents were lycans. Due to a rare genetic mutation, I have rather remarkable regenerative abilities so when I was bitten by a vampire at 17, I became partially vampire. Every night, to be specific, except the full moon, where the lycanthropy trumps it," he said matter-of-factly.
"This wouldn't be the first time a werewolf got bit by a vampire. It doesn't match. You'd die."
"I did."
I stared at him silently. "Then how are you here?!" I yelled out.
"I got better."
I, once again, stared daggers.
"See, I was dead for quite a while but when the full moon came around, my remarkable regenerative abilities kicked in and I lived once more."
"Right," I said and rubbed my brow, trying to understand the mess. "And the merman part?"
"I was just having a nice evening dip under the full moon, and, well, got bitten by a merman."
"But- mermen don't bite people! They don't eat meat, they don't-"
"Yeah, but this one was *really* high. He thought I was seaweed because my fur was so wet. Lucky I was a werewolf at the time - my remarkable regenerative abilities allowed me to live through the transformation once again."
"The centaur part?"
"Did you know that horses can bite *really* hard? Well I do. And it's a really dominant mutation for some reason. Spend most of my time as one, just horsing around" he chuckled, much to my annoyance.
"But... there's no way a dragon bit you. I don't care how much you can heal, there's no surviving that!"
"You're right. I, uh... well, it's a bit embarrassing, but..." he looked down at his feet.
"Well?"
"I bit a dragon."
*Oh for fucks sake*, I thought.
"See, when I ingested his blood, that was enough. Normally this would kill me, but my-"
"If you say 'remarkable regenerative abilities' one more goddamn time I'll put them to the test," I hissed.
"Uh, well..." he nervously said, "I just survived it. With so many mutations in my body, that one only kicks in during extremely hot weather. Rare around these parts, unlike that bloody yeti part."
"And that happened when..." I started cautiously, dreading the answer that I already expected.
"Funny thing, this. I was skiing with my partner and before you know it, I skied into a nearby treeline and a yeti just - *poof*, runs out and bites straight through my ribcage."
"He crushed your ribcage? And you survived?" I asked. He opened his mouth but said no words, only looking at me expectantly.
I sighed very loudly and put my hand over my face. "Go on," I said.
"See, my remarkable regenerative abilities..."
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I am what is referred to as a cyclical man. It is an ancient magic that can only be cast on a group of willing people. Every group has a different composition and a different set of rules.
I knew a cyclical man that was just two people. By day one of them existed and by night the other. But only living half a life they each lived for twice as long.
I knew a team of adventures that became a cyclical man. A thief, a mage, a barbarian, a bard, and a great scholar. They would rotate as certain skills were needed. They were an unstoppable team of one.
The neat thing is that the memories are shared and you only age by as much time as you have actually lived. It seems great but you are stuck living a half life. You can’t settle down. You can’t have a normal job. And it is impossible to break the spell.
I joined with a unique group of adventurers. We are a group of ‘monsters’ and we cycle based on our individual strengths. A centaur that can travel fast by day. A vampire that can never see the sun light. A werewolf by the full moon so he is always at his full strength. A merman when we hit the water. A heat loving dragon on the hottest of days and a yeti when it is too cold for anyone else. We are always at our strongest.
We are six individuals that make up one man, and this is a story of our adventures.
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[WP] “Hell has Satan, Heaven has God, and Purgatory has me.” It reached out to shake your hand. “Welcome to my domain.”
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"Welcome... to the land of drifters."
I was taken aback. "I *died?* But I'm still laying in bed. This is *my* house."
It smiled, a faint glow coming from under the hood of its massive cloak. "That's the beauty of what you call... "purgatory". Heaven and hell, they're places. Ends of an extreme. This, this is real life. You were no saint or devout follower, so you didn't make it into heaven, but you weren't a huge sinner either, so hell has no claim to you. So..." I interject, finishing the sentence. "This is all that's left." I could hear the smile in the drifter's voice as it let out a small cackle. "Bingo! Man, you are quick on the uptake, kid. Now, since I found you, there are a few more options, but it largely boils down to this;
You can stay here, in this house, in this world, in this universe, wherever in this infinite sandbox, doing whatever passes time the best. Although, you'd basically be a spectator in your own world, no matter how much you tried to influence it. Ultimately powerless, for the rest of eternity, until all of what made you yourself gets recycled...
Or you could fight back, join me in this crusade against the gods and demons. See infinity upon infinity on an infinite axis, on infinite axes. Be yourself, but in a million different ways. All I ask is that you have my back when I need you, and that after your lives, you give what you learned to me. Honestly, it'd seem like a no brainer if I were given that choice. But, in the end, it is a choice. *Your c*hoice. So, what'll it be?"
My answer even surprised myself a bit. "I'll do it. I want to keep living. And the other option hardly seems like a life." The drifter pulled back its cloak, to reveal a man, nearly picturesque of a Greco-Roman god, bar the eyepatch loosely fitted over one eye. "Then it's settled! I can't wait to work with you. I'm going to send you somewhere nice to warm up, just try to survive as long as possible. See the world, that sort of thing." A glimmering light opened before me, but I stopped before I entered it. "How will I contact you? I assume you're a god, so how will I worship you in my new life?" The drifter put on a knowing smirk. "My real name could kill a universe in an instant, so I'll trust you with it later..."
"But in the meantime, you can call me Gorias."
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You raise one of your eyebrows in slight confusion; you were never a religious believer. Always going about life doing things that are morally correct in your eyes, never being perfectly good or terribly evil either. So the fact that you're here in so-called purgatory is disappointing. Expecting the afterlife to be a void of darkness or your perfect paradise. Speaking up with a slight hesitation in your voice with morbid curiosity, "So Christianity is real?" was a simple first question to ask, followed by another question. "What about the other regions?" It would be disappointing to arrive wherever you're sent to only find out your life is a lie.
The short androgynous figure waved their hands, grinning mischievously. "That's a strong first question!" They chuckled before holding up one of their long fingers. "But every religion or pantheon is real. The afterlife is whatever you want it to be." It was a matter-of-fact tone. "People with wavering faiths and no direct religion end up here." Adding on right after.
Hearing that makes sense, so what is purgatory exactly? There were so many articles and documents about how purgatory will end up as. A simple question should be next: can't overwhelm this deity figure in front of you? "What's your name?" You asked.
"A questioning young person, aren't you?" They snickered teasingly. "I'm whatever you want to call me." Looking up with a shark tooth grin plastered on their face.
"What."
"You heard me, I go by whatever you want." Adding up right after. "I was never given a name. I was never worthy of one." There was now a slight sadness to their tone, before perking back up again. Causing you to flinch because of the sudden mood change. "Most people stick with calling me a friend because it's easier to remember!" Sticking their arms joyously in the air.
You cautiously nod your head. "So what now, friend?" Wondering what could be next in this empty void of theirs.
Friend smirked, a common occurrence you noticed. Their hands glowed brightly. Different portals open to new realms. There was one leading to people flying and shooting fire from their hands. Someone waving a magical wand and obviously casting spells. There was a large-built man with tattoos all over his body, glowing with eldritch power. Another realm shows five birds of large magnitudes with different color schemes. Even a strange one with an obvious corpse on the ground with two people carrying children in their arms. These magical portals circled behind friends as their eyes glowed a powerful green. "I will show you around different realms for you to get either reincarnated into or watch over, or you can make your own. It's all up to you."
You nod your head, a growing headache growing present. Raising a hand, you pointed to the portal with people casting spells. "Let's check out that one." It was overwhelming, but that one looked the most interested.
Friend grinned, "Let's get this party started!" You feel something grab you as you were sharply pulled forward and through the portal.
\------
Expect multiple parts to this story and this is my first time writing in the second person I think. I hope you enjoyed the references because one of these is a teaser to an old prompt I'm writing a story for and some others are stories are already written.
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[WP] “Hell has Satan, Heaven has God, and Purgatory has me.” It reached out to shake your hand. “Welcome to my domain.”
|
I had just woke up. I felt like I had just slept for an eternity. As I looked around I saw nothing but, well, nothing. I was in a deep empty void. I tried getting up and looking around but no matter how much a struggled I seemed to stay in place.
After a few seconds of whatever this was, I heard a voice.
“Hello, human! Welcome to the afterlife!” He had quite a deep voice, but at the same time it was somehow comforting
“The afterlife?” That didn’t make sense to me. I hadn’t died. I was alive. I had just been with my family, my wife… what was her name
“Of course! The afterlife! you’ve died!” He said, a bit to happily
“I was just with my wife though… I don’t remember dying.”
“Well of course you don’t, the mortal plane is quite different from here! This is the furthest from the mortal plane you can be in fact!”
It hadn’t occurred to me I wasn’t on Earth anymore. It didn’t quite look like hell or heaven though. It didn’t look like anything really.
“Now that you say it, where exactly am I?” I said
“Oh of course, I forgot the introduction, you’re in purgatory!” He said
“Not hell or heaven?” I said
“No no no, purgatory, the place in between” he said
“Then… who are you?” I said
“Hell has Satan, Heaven has God, and Purgatory has me. My names unimportant” He said
“Anyways, welcome to my domain!” He suddenly appeared before me, offering for me to shake his hand. As I reached out I saw his appearance. He was slim, tall, and wearing a simple black suit. That was recognizable, but his face seemed otherworldly. It was a deeper void than even the one surrounding us. Just staring into it made me feel a deep longing for something, anything really. It made me want to curl up and cry.
As I shook his had I realized I had no idea what was in store for me. Obviously hell was torture and heaven was paradise, but purgatory? I’d never heard of it in a religious sense.
“So, what’s in store for me?” I said
“Oh nothing much at first. After a while we might have decided wether you go to heaven or hell as you call them, or you could be here for all eternity, good day.”
I watched the stranger fade away, and I appeared in a corridor with what appeared to be endless doors. I saw one labeled in a language I couldn’t understand. It had an ominous glow shining off of it.
I reached out to open the door, but as I touched it it disappeared. Instead appeared an image of a beautiful island, with a familiar woman. As I stepped into the door I could feel the warmth of the island beaming on me, and remembered what it was. It was me and my wive’s honeymoon.
I ran to my wife and tried speaking to her
“Honey, hello!”
But then, as I touched her the image faded. I was back in the corridor, with the image of my wife still in my mind, I laid down on the floor, contemplating my what that meant. I had regained some of my memories, but it made me miss the life I once had more and more.
So, as I sat in the hall, wondering what my old life was like besides my wife, I cried. I had nothing. My memories just reminded me of all I had lost. All I could do was walk the halls endlessly praying someone would save me.
Just wanted to add, please leave criticism. I’ve only recently started writing and I want to try and improve.
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You raise one of your eyebrows in slight confusion; you were never a religious believer. Always going about life doing things that are morally correct in your eyes, never being perfectly good or terribly evil either. So the fact that you're here in so-called purgatory is disappointing. Expecting the afterlife to be a void of darkness or your perfect paradise. Speaking up with a slight hesitation in your voice with morbid curiosity, "So Christianity is real?" was a simple first question to ask, followed by another question. "What about the other regions?" It would be disappointing to arrive wherever you're sent to only find out your life is a lie.
The short androgynous figure waved their hands, grinning mischievously. "That's a strong first question!" They chuckled before holding up one of their long fingers. "But every religion or pantheon is real. The afterlife is whatever you want it to be." It was a matter-of-fact tone. "People with wavering faiths and no direct religion end up here." Adding on right after.
Hearing that makes sense, so what is purgatory exactly? There were so many articles and documents about how purgatory will end up as. A simple question should be next: can't overwhelm this deity figure in front of you? "What's your name?" You asked.
"A questioning young person, aren't you?" They snickered teasingly. "I'm whatever you want to call me." Looking up with a shark tooth grin plastered on their face.
"What."
"You heard me, I go by whatever you want." Adding up right after. "I was never given a name. I was never worthy of one." There was now a slight sadness to their tone, before perking back up again. Causing you to flinch because of the sudden mood change. "Most people stick with calling me a friend because it's easier to remember!" Sticking their arms joyously in the air.
You cautiously nod your head. "So what now, friend?" Wondering what could be next in this empty void of theirs.
Friend smirked, a common occurrence you noticed. Their hands glowed brightly. Different portals open to new realms. There was one leading to people flying and shooting fire from their hands. Someone waving a magical wand and obviously casting spells. There was a large-built man with tattoos all over his body, glowing with eldritch power. Another realm shows five birds of large magnitudes with different color schemes. Even a strange one with an obvious corpse on the ground with two people carrying children in their arms. These magical portals circled behind friends as their eyes glowed a powerful green. "I will show you around different realms for you to get either reincarnated into or watch over, or you can make your own. It's all up to you."
You nod your head, a growing headache growing present. Raising a hand, you pointed to the portal with people casting spells. "Let's check out that one." It was overwhelming, but that one looked the most interested.
Friend grinned, "Let's get this party started!" You feel something grab you as you were sharply pulled forward and through the portal.
\------
Expect multiple parts to this story and this is my first time writing in the second person I think. I hope you enjoyed the references because one of these is a teaser to an old prompt I'm writing a story for and some others are stories are already written.
|
|
[WP] “Hell has Satan, Heaven has God, and Purgatory has me.” It reached out to shake your hand. “Welcome to my domain.”
|
"...welcome to my domain" he said in a dull monotone voice. The man was average height, average build, average weight. Sporting a beige suit, bowler hat and Cain. He had the most forgettable face I had ever seen. Literally, every time I'd blink or look away I had forgotten what he looked like. This must be what having face blindness feels like I mused.
"Welcome to this, cathedral of compromise. This maze of mediocrity. This bastion of benality. This labyrinth of languish. This..."
"Okay enough" I said waving my hand dismissively, even his metaphors were tiring. "So this is purgatory?"
He nodded. I looked around. It was okay I guess.
"And your like the king of this place?" I asked.
"More like... Middle management." He grinned.
It seemed like a never ending corridor, the kind you'd get in some kind of 70s build public sector building. It was lined with doors. Seeing nothing better to do I opened one... It lead to another corridor. I followed it through, and found more doors lining it's walls, as it extended off into the infinite. After walking along for a bit I opened another, and of course, yet another infinite corridor. Suprise suprise. I suppose I should have found this horrifying, but for some reason I didn't. Really it all just felt rather boring. "How long do I have to stay here?" I asked. There was no response. He'd disappeared.
I continued walking through these endless corridors for what felt like days. Those days soon turned to weeks. Those weeks to months and years. I presumed any way. There were no windows to see sky, or even clocks on the wall. I should have been driven to madness, but instead my feelings remained neutral. I should have felt pangs of hunger, but instead I felt neither content or hungry. I had no thirst. I had no lust. I didn't tire or sleep. I just wandered. Corridor by corridor. century by century. The man never appeared again, funnily enough he was the last 'person' I ever saw. And I can't even remember what he bloody looked like..
|
"Where... Where am I? Am I..."
"Dead? Yes. Yes you are my friend." The pale white of the ferryman's skull stood out against the dark hood which he wore. From within, a bony hand reached out, offering to me... Something. I glanced around, looking at the desolate land which I stood, the bright light above shining upon the blackened ground below. No hellfire. No smell of sulfurous brimstone. No clouds or choirs of angels. No Saint Peter waiting the pearly gates.
"You are between. Between the most holy salvation and the most sinful torment. You lived a life quite similar, it seems." The ferryman continued, "Neither a sinner nor a saint; A passenger on the river of time, betwixt the skies above and the land below." The thin wooden boat upon which the ferryman stood seemed unaffected by the rushing, tumultuous currents below. The river appeared to fill in a great chasm, appearing almost bottomless as I peered into its void. The outstretched hand before me waited in a subtle anticipation.
Grasping the skeletal hand firmly, I slowly stepped onto the bottom of the canoe-like boat, helped on by the deathly ferryman. As I sat down upon the simple boat, he turned away, and passed me a facsimile of the long oar-paddle that he himself had.
"Welcome sailor, upon the river Styx."
|
|
[WP] “Hell has Satan, Heaven has God, and Purgatory has me.” It reached out to shake your hand. “Welcome to my domain.”
|
The creature was perfect monotony. There was no lilt, no detectable inflection in its voice; no feature in its face that evoked emotion; no flaw or harmony in its gray and translucent being that drew attention. The creature was and that was it.
"Thank you for the welcome," I said and observed my surroundings.
Purgatory was a vast plane of blurry, foggy grayness. There were no trees, no constructions, no nature, only a low sky covered in slow-rolling gray clouds that in the distance hooked down to cover the horizon.
"What am I to do here?" My gaze drew to the creature. "Rove for eternity? Were our mortal assumptions correct?"
The creature didn't move. It simply stared at me. "Yes and no. You will rove, and perhaps you will do so for eternity. Or perhaps you will find one of the two gates. They're identical, and no soul knows which one leads to where. I don't know either. All I can tell you is that one leads to Heaven, and the other leads to Hell."
Again, its voice carried no tune. It was a humdrum of nothingness. It was odd, I felt as though this creature could follow and speak to me for eternities and I wouldn't feel unnerved nor calm. I couldn't explain it.
"You don't judge our souls then? To see where we belong?"
"No, I am not one to judge. Neither are you, God, Satan, or any other soul. Bias exists even in otherworldly beings. Chance is the only fair judge. Heaven and Hell are the two sides of a coin, and Purgatory is where you flip that coin."
I nodded. "I see. Is that it? Should I just rove now?"
The creature stood in silence for a moment too long. "You can do that or you can remain without here moving. It's up to you. You can roam with your consciousness, or you can ask me to strip you from that consciousness as well. It's up to you."
This time the staleness of my emotions crumbled and something akin to fear lodged in my bones. "Strip me from my consciousness? Why would I want that?"
The creature looked around. "Purgatory is a vast place. Many souls have spent eternities looking for the gates and have not found them. Others have found them in hours. If you find one, and it leads you to Hell, you will suffer. If you never find one, you will wilt and grow desperate, for an eternity of wandering is akin to eternal torment. If you find the gate to Heaven, perhaps you will find peace. Two of the three possible outcomes are better traveled without conscience."
I drew a deep breath. If I had a heart, I'm sure I would've skipped a beat. "Will God give me back my consciousness if I gave it to you?"
"Perhaps. I do not know. But if God can give it or build it back, so can Satan. I do not know, I can only speculate." He stepped back. "What will you do?"
"Can I decide later?"
"Yes, if you ever find me again."
Many thoughts sprung into my mind. Strangely enough, I knew there were no more questions to ask the creature. The picture of Purgatory was clear and overwhelmingly simple. It was a vast, unwalled maze with two possible exits. And I was not certain I could ever find any of those exits.
Giving away my consciousness was tempting and statistically sound provided God couldn't build back my consciousness. I would not suffer in Hell and I would not have to bear the endless monotony of Purgatory. But at the same time, I would become an empty wandering shell incapable of rejoicing in Heaven.
I drew a deep breath and stepped forth. "I like my odds."
When I looked back, the creature was gone, and nothing but grayness encompassed me.
Eternity awaited me, but I hoped for it to be a short one.
\-----------
/r/AStoryToRuleThemAll \--> Come, I have candy.
|
"Where... Where am I? Am I..."
"Dead? Yes. Yes you are my friend." The pale white of the ferryman's skull stood out against the dark hood which he wore. From within, a bony hand reached out, offering to me... Something. I glanced around, looking at the desolate land which I stood, the bright light above shining upon the blackened ground below. No hellfire. No smell of sulfurous brimstone. No clouds or choirs of angels. No Saint Peter waiting the pearly gates.
"You are between. Between the most holy salvation and the most sinful torment. You lived a life quite similar, it seems." The ferryman continued, "Neither a sinner nor a saint; A passenger on the river of time, betwixt the skies above and the land below." The thin wooden boat upon which the ferryman stood seemed unaffected by the rushing, tumultuous currents below. The river appeared to fill in a great chasm, appearing almost bottomless as I peered into its void. The outstretched hand before me waited in a subtle anticipation.
Grasping the skeletal hand firmly, I slowly stepped onto the bottom of the canoe-like boat, helped on by the deathly ferryman. As I sat down upon the simple boat, he turned away, and passed me a facsimile of the long oar-paddle that he himself had.
"Welcome sailor, upon the river Styx."
|
|
[WP] “Hell has Satan, Heaven has God, and Purgatory has me.” It reached out to shake your hand. “Welcome to my domain.”
|
The creature was perfect monotony. There was no lilt, no detectable inflection in its voice; no feature in its face that evoked emotion; no flaw or harmony in its gray and translucent being that drew attention. The creature was and that was it.
"Thank you for the welcome," I said and observed my surroundings.
Purgatory was a vast plane of blurry, foggy grayness. There were no trees, no constructions, no nature, only a low sky covered in slow-rolling gray clouds that in the distance hooked down to cover the horizon.
"What am I to do here?" My gaze drew to the creature. "Rove for eternity? Were our mortal assumptions correct?"
The creature didn't move. It simply stared at me. "Yes and no. You will rove, and perhaps you will do so for eternity. Or perhaps you will find one of the two gates. They're identical, and no soul knows which one leads to where. I don't know either. All I can tell you is that one leads to Heaven, and the other leads to Hell."
Again, its voice carried no tune. It was a humdrum of nothingness. It was odd, I felt as though this creature could follow and speak to me for eternities and I wouldn't feel unnerved nor calm. I couldn't explain it.
"You don't judge our souls then? To see where we belong?"
"No, I am not one to judge. Neither are you, God, Satan, or any other soul. Bias exists even in otherworldly beings. Chance is the only fair judge. Heaven and Hell are the two sides of a coin, and Purgatory is where you flip that coin."
I nodded. "I see. Is that it? Should I just rove now?"
The creature stood in silence for a moment too long. "You can do that or you can remain without here moving. It's up to you. You can roam with your consciousness, or you can ask me to strip you from that consciousness as well. It's up to you."
This time the staleness of my emotions crumbled and something akin to fear lodged in my bones. "Strip me from my consciousness? Why would I want that?"
The creature looked around. "Purgatory is a vast place. Many souls have spent eternities looking for the gates and have not found them. Others have found them in hours. If you find one, and it leads you to Hell, you will suffer. If you never find one, you will wilt and grow desperate, for an eternity of wandering is akin to eternal torment. If you find the gate to Heaven, perhaps you will find peace. Two of the three possible outcomes are better traveled without conscience."
I drew a deep breath. If I had a heart, I'm sure I would've skipped a beat. "Will God give me back my consciousness if I gave it to you?"
"Perhaps. I do not know. But if God can give it or build it back, so can Satan. I do not know, I can only speculate." He stepped back. "What will you do?"
"Can I decide later?"
"Yes, if you ever find me again."
Many thoughts sprung into my mind. Strangely enough, I knew there were no more questions to ask the creature. The picture of Purgatory was clear and overwhelmingly simple. It was a vast, unwalled maze with two possible exits. And I was not certain I could ever find any of those exits.
Giving away my consciousness was tempting and statistically sound provided God couldn't build back my consciousness. I would not suffer in Hell and I would not have to bear the endless monotony of Purgatory. But at the same time, I would become an empty wandering shell incapable of rejoicing in Heaven.
I drew a deep breath and stepped forth. "I like my odds."
When I looked back, the creature was gone, and nothing but grayness encompassed me.
Eternity awaited me, but I hoped for it to be a short one.
\-----------
/r/AStoryToRuleThemAll \--> Come, I have candy.
|
"...welcome to my domain" he said in a dull monotone voice. The man was average height, average build, average weight. Sporting a beige suit, bowler hat and Cain. He had the most forgettable face I had ever seen. Literally, every time I'd blink or look away I had forgotten what he looked like. This must be what having face blindness feels like I mused.
"Welcome to this, cathedral of compromise. This maze of mediocrity. This bastion of benality. This labyrinth of languish. This..."
"Okay enough" I said waving my hand dismissively, even his metaphors were tiring. "So this is purgatory?"
He nodded. I looked around. It was okay I guess.
"And your like the king of this place?" I asked.
"More like... Middle management." He grinned.
It seemed like a never ending corridor, the kind you'd get in some kind of 70s build public sector building. It was lined with doors. Seeing nothing better to do I opened one... It lead to another corridor. I followed it through, and found more doors lining it's walls, as it extended off into the infinite. After walking along for a bit I opened another, and of course, yet another infinite corridor. Suprise suprise. I suppose I should have found this horrifying, but for some reason I didn't. Really it all just felt rather boring. "How long do I have to stay here?" I asked. There was no response. He'd disappeared.
I continued walking through these endless corridors for what felt like days. Those days soon turned to weeks. Those weeks to months and years. I presumed any way. There were no windows to see sky, or even clocks on the wall. I should have been driven to madness, but instead my feelings remained neutral. I should have felt pangs of hunger, but instead I felt neither content or hungry. I had no thirst. I had no lust. I didn't tire or sleep. I just wandered. Corridor by corridor. century by century. The man never appeared again, funnily enough he was the last 'person' I ever saw. And I can't even remember what he bloody looked like..
|
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