prompt stringlengths 20 1.36k | chosen_story stringlengths 226 10k | rejected_story stringlengths 227 9.43k | chosen_timestamp timestamp[ns]date 2012-08-08 09:08:56 2022-12-31 14:34:19 | rejected_timestamp timestamp[ns]date 2012-08-08 08:06:24 2022-12-31 12:20:41 | chosen_upvotes int64 14 23.1k | rejected_upvotes int64 10 4.11k |
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[WP] In sci-fi, planets are commonly made of one biome-- 'desert planets', 'jungle planets', 'ice planets' etc. So, the aliens are pretty shocked to see the range of biomes when they arrive on Earth. | We had arrived, to sit in orbit, of this strange blue and green planet. We had stayed there for two of the planets quick orbits around its star. I grew bored of waiting and watching. I was an explorer, I preferred to get down on a planets surface and start setting up camp for those who waited on ship. But first we had to verify the planet was safe. And with as many biomes that we could see from here, it was going to take a while.
Sure, everyone knew that most stars had a "habitable zone", but most planets fell on either the inner or outer part of that zone, or only fell in it during part of the planet's rotation around its star. Of the other discovered planets, so nicely tucked in the heart of the habitable zone, most had axises so tilted that the polar north was a fiery desert, and the southern, a chilled barren waste. Those were easy enough to determine where to land, the middle ground having a small band of life.
This planet though, was different, hardly any tilt to its axis at all, just enough to give it a cute little wobble. Small enough to only have attracted one orbiting body in the eons since its surely fiery birth. That in itself was strange. This world seemed to have a symbiotic relationship with its satellite. The planet pulled the satellite along with it around its orbit, while the satellite seemed to affect the watery bodies that the planet seemed to be mostly composed of. This planet also had an exorbitant amount of flotsam jettisoning around just outside its highest layer of atmosphere. That had caught the attention of the ship's scientists. They measured and counted, trying to determine how long those metal pieces had been floating there, for they were most unnatural. It was obviously for communications, as we had started receiving radio signals well before we had crossed the asteroid belt in the middle of the solar system.
It was close to the end of the planets second rotation that they had seen another piece launched from the planet's surface. The higher ups had had everyone on high alert for hours, for they were sure we were under attack, but we watched, this tiny little ...ship? make its way to the satellite, land, and leave again after less than one of the planets daily rotations.
It was at this point a delegation from the Council was arranged. They had studied the languages broadcast (there had been so many for such a small planet!) and learned the three most dominant. I was excited, we had known the planet was inhabited by a species sentient enough to propel this strange objects just outside of their atmosphere, but we were unsure if they were capable of leaving the planet themselves. The Alliance had forbidden contact with species that had yet to achieve space flight. Of course, my job was still needed, for we had protocol to follow, and when meeting new species we liked to do so in an environment they felt safe in.
I went to the scientist I knew best and asked where they thought I would be landing, and they shook their puzzled head. They had figured that the species on the planet would have congregated on the most moderate temperatures areas of the planet, but their findings had read that the species was on every continent! even the one made of ice. Sure there were plenty of ice living species, but most of them overheated withing a 5 degree temperature increase. But the hottest recorded temperatures on this planet had been 56 degrees in one of its deserts. The coldest -88. No other known species had that high of range of survivable temperatures. So I went to my commander. He decided that I was to choose a location closest to our home planets climate. We were from an arid grassland, so I chose a location in the lower middle location of the continent with a tail connecting to the lower continent.
As I took my ship and supplies I took a long entry into the atmosphere. My ship did most of the piloting, so I took advantage to look closely at the land that I traveled over. Look! There were glaciers! And there! A jungle! A desert! As I made my final approach to the set landing site, I was going to have so much fun exploring this planet! The HUD on my screen recorded all green settings, air, temperature, humidity, all in acceptable ranges for my body. I would only need my one suit to start with. So caught up with unpacking my exploration tools, that when I opened my hatch, I stood shocked at what stood before me. Hundreds of bipedal pale things. Pointing metal looking sticks at me, shouting.
I was confused. We were cloaked, we had had no reason to think they had detected us. We had been orbiting them for two years, without any sort of communication. We should had reached out to them, once our base (the one I was supposed to be setting up) was established. But apparently, they had known, and were ready and waiting for me. | Greeblegrox stared out the windshield and fingered his tentacles thoughtfully.
"Yeah," he said in Wydoobian. "That planet is definitely alive."
"I thought you said it was 'the greatest mix you'd seen'," snorted Hardowom, looking out the windshield also. He flicked his right eyeball with his third tentacle, a sign he was unimpressed. They'd come quite far out of their way to see this place.
Greeblegrox fixed all four of his eyes and both his antennae at Hardowom.
"Are you fucking kidding me?" he said. "Look at it."
"It's all water. It's a water planet."
"You dipshit," said Greeblegrox, shifting in his travel pod (his fourth buttcheek had an itch he couldn't reach with any of his tentacles and it had been driving him insane since they passed Andromeda). "Look at the poles. Look at the center of the fucking thing. It's right there."
Hardowom examined the great blue globe that loomed in their windshield like an enormous slice of Fooby melon.
"I see nothing but moisture in all its forms," he said, flicking his eyeball again.
In frustration, Greeblegrox reared up out of his pod and used all four of his tentacles to scratch his fourth buttcheek. His slimy skin peeled off the pod's inner surface. He'd have to reset his seal, but whatever, this itch was going to drive him mad.
"You are such a downer," he said, scratching away. "There's *land*. There's more life than we have back home. This is a fully mature, multi-biomed planet. We came all the way here and you're not even *trying* to enjoy yourself."
Hardowom hated when Greeblegrox scratched his asses. He needed to just buy some damn Burble Cream and the fungus would go away.
"It *is* pretty," he said, hoping his agreeableness would cease Greeblegrox's scratching. "What kind of life we talking here?"
"Well, water-based, obviously," said Greeblegrox, sinking back into his pod with a satisfied sigh and feeling his Echie seal begin the reset. "Mostly carbon. The dominant species recently became self-aware but they're still in adolescence as far as terrestrial development goes, so no guarantee they'll survive yet..."
"They can't see us, can they?" said Hardowom, suddenly nervous.
"Of course not," said Greeblegrox. "They've been to their moon, sent probes out to their solar system. They're barely aware in galactic terms. Less than toddlers."
Hardowom bit his upper eyestalk and sucked on it, a sign he was considering Greeblegrox's words.
"The biomes are there," said Greeblegrox. "You can see on the land-- the green and the brown and the mountains and the deserts? The ice at the poles? This is like Xela, Lema, Toille and Neb all mixed together in one."
Hardowom swung his eyestalks back and forth, the equivalent gesture of respectful nodding.
"Well I'm glad you caught it while you did," he said. "A fast-developing dominant species in adolescent phase... this place might not look like this much longer."
"Yeah, could reset at any moment," said Greeblegrox.
The two Wydoobians floated there for a few minutes, quietly fingering their tentacles. They half-wished the planet would reset itself right then, just for the fireworks show, but it didn't.
"But yeah," said Greeblegrox. "Just thought you'd want to see it."
"Yeah, thanks for pointing it out. Never seen a mixed-biomed planet like this before. Just thought it would look more, I dunno, obviously varied, I guess. If you didn't know better, you'd assume this was a water planet."
"That's what I thought when I saw it on the scanner," said Greeblegrox. "But then I saw the life activations, and I looked closer."
"Well, I hope they figure it out," said Hardowom. "Onob knows it took us millennia to even get to light speed travel."
"We should get going," said Greeblegrox, checking the time. "They're not going to wait for us on Tidder much longer. They're probably losing interest even as we speak."
"All right," said Hardowom, shifting the saucer into light speed. "Let's split."
The thrusters went supernova and the two Wydoobians were gone in a blink. | 2018-06-26T09:48:01 | 2018-06-26T09:25:01 | 139 | 40 |
[WP]At 18 everyone is assigned a job perfect for them. No one ever complains. Upon reading their job assignment card, a teen has found that, for the first time in 100 years, they’ve been assigned “serial killer”. | “Serial Killer” that is what my card read as my hand trembled slightly. I didn’t know if this was truly the right position for me. I had personal experience with the loss a serial killer can push upon a person and it fucking hurt. I didn’t know if I could do that. But, after thinking about it for a while, I decided it was worth the hurt. I could save those I felt were worthy of the time needed to find their way and kill those who brazenly brought in love and support in spite of an insipid demeanor.
For the next three years, I worked hard. I studied the greats and took a painstaking amount of time to uncover just how they’d done it. How they’d managed to infiltrate America and strike its core to each become known as one of the greatest of all time.
I would bide my time, build a respectable career that allowed me the freedom to stalk and research my prey. High visibility victims. Taking the most beloved of beings and squashing their potential, destroying what is most loved simply because I could.
I knew I would be unstoppable as I opened the doors to my new life. Twenty years of hard work, determination, and careful choices led me to what was essentially a killing field. I smiled.
As president of Fox Broadcasting Company, I could fulfill my destiny and kill serials with glee. No one will even bat an eye as I carry out my dastardly work and destroy the most beloved of television shows under the guise of “bad ratings.”
Serial killer indeed. | "Well that's interesting," I whispered under my breath, half amused. I had always hated this system, the complete lack of freedom we had over our own destiny. How no one ever complained about the future they were given, as if this massive AI that rested at the heart of the city, feeding information to the screens in front of us, had actually solved the curious case of human nature.
'SERIAL KILLER', read the screen. All capitals, of course, to make the humans feel like they were being given something important. It was the subtle condescensions that truly riled me up. We had made ourselves sheeps to our own creations. How pathetic, truly.
But I suppose it was only fair, to give credit where credit was due. It had, after all, figured me out.
I sat in the assembly hall where this generations eighteen year olds and their relatives had gathered, dressed in their most formal attire, just to be willingly sold into slavery.
They were all dead now of course. The purple haze still fettered around the chamber, running through the red leather of chairs and pale skin of men. None of them had had the foresight to pack an extra gas mask with them. Ofcourse they wouldn't have thought of it, they don't think do they? Their bodies had a pretty symmetry to them. Clusters that faded away into trails, one emanating from each exit. I looked at my backpack that lay under my feet, where I had packed a couple of explosives in order to get myself out when I got bored of admiring my work.
The screen in front of me flickered, an abrupt motion in the calm I had composed this hall into. It drew my attention.
'PLAY WITH ME," It read | 2018-08-13T19:58:07 | 2018-08-13T19:23:53 | 49 | 13 |
[WP] In the world of the immortals, scientists discovered a drug that makes you mortal for a day. People start doing the "try not to die" challenge for views, and find out it's harder than it looks. | I could hearing the buzzing of the news come alive in my ear, “Today’s top story: 6 more teens die during the “try not to die challenge” and Mario Sanchez will give you all the details in the normal 9am report. Tune in to hear h-.” I muted the chip before the story could finish. This wasn’t news, teenagers everywhere were trying the challenge, and every single one of them had died.
Ever since before we had the news chips in our arms, since before the government decided the best way to help us was to control us, we had the immortality drug, Livemex. One injection and you will age up to 35 and stop aging at all. It granted us the ability to do anything we could dream of without dying. The government made it free, but that meant that all the other prices skyrocketed. See what was the point of eating, drinking, sleeping, anything? We couldn’t die, no heat stroke or frostbite, no drowning or falling off a roof. No illness. Pretty soon all goods production stopped, no one needed clothes, or food, or shelter. Amenities could be maintained using AI and humans could live a life free of worry.
The world became overpopulated within a year. Houses ceased to exist, people resided in pods, a 10x10 meter room that could house 40 people. No privacy, no personal space. After your work day you had to go back to your pod. The drug changed everything. Soon after the government realized they could enslave us and use us any way they wanted: after all they gave us immortality. Wars turned to turf battles. We needed more room, the planet was becoming so overloaded that it was affecting our orbit. The only space left was, literally, space. So the world leaders came together to find a way to populate near-by planets. The only problem? Livemex couldn’t be shipped to other planets. The formula wasn’t stable enough. So the first generation would live forever, but the next would need to survive on their own. The idea was terrifying and sounded impossible. And today was my day to attempt it.
The news made it sound as though we had a choice. We don’t, if you are randomly selected then the government comes and gives you a second injection. It counteracts the Livemax and you become mortal again. Immediately. Most test subjects die within 4 hours, but the record is 18 hours. Held by a New Australand man of 19 years, he survived by curling into a ball in a corner and not moving. Then, he died because his bladder exploded and he bled out. Poor bloke forgot that the urinary system would start functioning again. Or at least, that’s what the news reported.
I was to report to the government office of World Security in my town by 9am to receive my injection, or else they would come and drag me away and give it to me in an uncontrolled environment (it had happened 4 times in history, the subjects all died within minutes). I got up and began to get ready for my departure, and I thought about my strategy. See you win by surviving for 48 hours. If you do that then they give you another dose of Livemex, and a ticket to the new planet. With a promise of space, a whole house to yourself.
My strategy was similar to the New Australand man’s, sit in a corner and pray. And remember to take a piss. I arrived at the center, and they loaded me into the building. I was read instructions on basic survival, and in less than 10 minutes I was in a sterile room, completely empty. No furniture, or even a bed. Just a white room with white tile floor. The men came in to the room wearing old-time biohazard suits (as if I could hurt them). The syringe was brandished and I felt the most searing sensation in my arm, the pain was unimaginable. My body writhed underneath me, suddenly aware of itself and parts long paralyzed by stagnancy came back to life. Now I understood why no one lived after the injection: why would you want to? I curled by body up into a ball, according to my plan i just needed to stay still until 48 hours had ticked by. I stayed in the ball in agony, the only thought i could manage was focusing on the house a million billion miles away. After an eternity, i managed to look at the clock. A total of 6 minutes had gone by. I couldn’t do it, I couldn’t stand the agony. Then I remembered the survival guides, they said it would hurt. Digestion they had called it, my intestines were writhing around empty. I needed to fill them.
I crawled to the door to the room where someone slid a plate through a flap, a plate filled with items to eat. They said I just needed to chew and swallow and that the pain would subside. I took a bit of a soft lump of white, and swallowed best I could. I could feel the scraping of the texture all the way down my throat. It felt like a weight in my stomach then. And I could eat no more, one bite had filled me past capacity. My stomach ached as it stretched. I curled into a ball again waiting, waiting.
Hours ticked by so slowly it felt like time was scarcely moving at all. 2 hours, then 3, then 4. The agony didn’t stop, didn’t break, didn’t weaken. I wondered if this is what it felt like to live back in the old days, before Livemex. I know now I would never want to. I knew I had 44 more hours of this misery. And my strength broke beneath me, snapping like a wet rope that had been pulled too tight. I just wanted it to stop. So I did the only thing I could do in my control: I sat on the floor, laid down, and began slamming my head into the floor. Again and again. The pain was unbelievable, but at least I knew I was making my choice. The world grew darker with each impact now, I could feel the searing in my lungs, begging me to stop and breathe. My ears started to ring, then they too fell quiet. My last thought before everything went silent: at least they can’t control this. The beating in my chest halted. I exhaled one last time. And I was dead.
A speaker came on overhead, “Experiment 5837: failed.” The scientists scarcely look at each other, they knew this would happen. After all, the other 5836 subjects died the same way. It appeared in the quest for immortality, humans had lost the will to live at all.
Edited: typo and added a small sentence for continuity. | This is illegal. In the palm of my hand, was a pale blue object. A pill, I believe. Joel glanced wearily at me. His eyes urged me to rethink my choices. His efforts were futile.
Heat began to build within my throat as the capsule snaked its way down to my stomach. A chalky aftertaste remained as I felt the pill settle within my body. “Now, we wait. The effects will be activated in the morning.”
Sighing, Joel left the room. Turning back he whispered, “This better damm work, Tianna.”
The door clicked shut. Slumping into my bed, I gave some thought to what I just did. The next morning, I would be mortal. Only for a day, however. Sure, my decision to do this wasn’t the smartest by any means, but I am following the demands of the masses. Earlier in the week, a similar immortal did the same actions as me, filmed a video, and dubbed it, the “try not to die” challenge. Boy, did it soar. Massive ad revenue was made and the scientist backing him with this mortal pill received quite the sum of money.
Dozing off, I thought once more about this scientist who discovered this pill. He hadn’t approached me asking if I could try out this pill. But, I did own him a favor, so a theft may have been committed. That scientist should learn how to secure their work better.
Day arrived. Joel and I found ourselves in an empty parking lot.
“Alright, how do you want to start this off?” Joel questioned.
“Make it look like I almost got hit by a car.”
“Wow Tianna, shooting high right at the beginning.”
“We need to start with something big to draw the viewers in, Joel.”
Rolling his eyes, he grabbed the camera and positioned it so it faced the road. After, he explained his approach to this feat. It was relatively simple. He would turn into the lot and slowly tap me with the car.
“It’s not dramatic enough, Joel. Try speeding into the lot, but stopping last minute and only tapping me with the car. I trust you.”
Joel stopped right in his tracks to give me some hell about my edits to the plan.
“We’re just following the demands of the masses, Joel.”
“Alright then, if you die, then Dad’s career will be ruined.”
My patience was running dry. Hastily, I urged him to start up the car.
Everything was in place. The camera was positioned, I had filmed some start of video greeting, Joel was in the car, and the road was clear. Joel gave me the signal to start the plan. The revving of the car engine faded into the distance. Sunlight shone into my eyes, hindering my view. A little up head, was the place where Joel was meant to tap me with the car. From the left, the roaring of a car was audible. He was getting closer, time to speed things up. My pace quickened as I walked towards the camera. Smiling, I glanced into the camera, as to tell the viewers that something was about to occur. The car was near the turn in. “It’s now or never,” I murmured. Launching myself forward, the screech of rubber on pavement filled the space.
My actor side shined as I yelled, “Oh no!”
Only I didn’t get tapped by the car. The force of the impact took me off guard. Just as I felt myself flying, an audible sound of an object against concrete was heard. Unfortunately, that object happened to be my body.
“What the hell, Joel?” I shouted. Pain radiated through my body as Joel exited the car.
“We are not doing this anymore. This should put you out of commission for a bit.”
“But dad needs the ad revenue to fund his research about this mortal pill. Also, what the hell was that for?”
His temper was rising. “I had a feeling this whole shit show would get botched. That’s why I hid the real pills before you could get to them. Basically, I gave you a placebo.”
Fury took hold as I called him out on how I could’ve died. He ended up giving some crap on how he slightly hit me, so all I would receive is some bruises.
“Besides, Tianna, Dad would be furious if he found out about the stunt you pulled.”
“You don’t say. Shall we try this again when I’m all patched up?”
Joel’s silence indicated [his answer.](https://www.reddit.com/r/CasualScribblings/) | 2020-06-20T22:14:45 | 2020-06-20T22:14:18 | 2,499 | 71 |
[WP] The earth has been ruined, but you were lucky enough to secure a spot on the last colony ship leaving. The days on the ship blur together, do your job then go to sleep and repeat. Someone mentioned the date and after doing the math you realize you have been on the ship for over 600 years. | "Wait," I responded cautiously as Tim pulled me into a maintenance sideway. My best friend looked frazzled and on the verge of a panic attack. "When you say 600 years you mean by earth time right? The clock in the concourse keeps time with earth's rotation and time dilates as we approach the speed of light. Not to mention I still remember the mad scramble to get Soph and I a place on the Arianna five years ago."
"No! The last time we even got close to the speed of light was when we did a Gravity Assisted Course Correction maneuver a three years ago when we passed through the Cat's Eye Nebula. We've been traveling at regular speed since then!" Tim whisper shouted at me. "John, listen to me. We have been on this ship for 600 years!" He repeated with even more urgency in his voice. "Okay. Look look look look look! You know how the fabricator date stamps everything it produces so that the archivist system has a complete record of our journey?"
"Yeah?" I replied, it was my job to fix the four fabricators we have when they break so the Arianna has spare parts to fix other things that break.
"Well look at this!" He pulled from his bag a beaten up and busted micro-controller box that is equipped on every launch cradle on the eight flight decks that allows the cradles to operate at various strengths to launch the different ships and shuttles aboard the Arianna clear of the ship. After quickly looking over it he practically shoved the box into my face. "Look at the date stamp! 2387! I remember replacing this because I put in an order WITH. YOU. for a new one to replace the busted one on launch cradle 3 on flight deck six that had been busted by Solar Hawk 4's bootless launch three days prior. That was 2 years ago and it was my first repair job since being transfered to engineering."
"Yeah, I remember that one because I was waiting for Number 3 to fabricate a new tool head for Number 1 so it took me a couple of days to get it fabricated for you." I replied as he reached into his bag and pulled put another micro-controller, this one prestine and recently fabricated, and more gingerly handed it to me.
"Look at the date stamp on this one! This one was fabricated less than an hour ago on Number 1, the same one that fabricated the old part." I turned the box over and read the date aloud. "2987....." it took me a moment to process it and after flicking my eyes between the broken one and the newly fabricated replacement it clicked. I looked at Tim, and by the look on his face he could see my realization.
"We've been on this ship for 600 years....." I voiced my horrified realization. | The taste of copper leaves Tom's mouth as he swishes around the last of his morning allotment of water. "This stasis never gets any better does it?". Tom looks in the mirror with a grimace as he takes the prescription medicine to combat the affects of his prolonged slumber.
Beep! Beep! Beep! Beep!
The alarm. Its tone is reminiscent of an old alarm clock. The same one that always blared itself when he is running behind schedule. Every moment awake must be productive, otherwise time in stasis is shortened. Every member takes turns maintaining the ship. At this point, much of the ship has been replaced.
The UN commissioned ship, the Theseus, was on its way to the nearest Earth like planet 100 some odd light years away. An eternity in slower than light travel. "It's too bad the government never had enough funding to figure out how to fix the planet itself, huh Lewis?" Tom said as he climbed into the maintenance hatch. Tom remembers what he learned from his late Professor Lewis, while an undergrad at University.
"If you replace the damaged wood with new wood so that the original planks are wholey new, is the ship still the original? That is paradox of the ship of Theseus". Dr. Lewis, a 95 year old lanky man ---somehow still teaching, came up with the original design for the ship. The idea was that no conventional ship would have the supplies to make that distance, so to scavenge material throughout the cosmos was the only way to combat the harsh reality of space debris constantly scraping and dinging into a mile long hunk of metal.
As Tom made his way into the shaft the automatic lighting stayed off. Flick Flick Flick. The switch hadn't worked since the last time he was down here. "Wonder what moron was supposed to take care of that?" Tom asked sarcasticly. Being an electrician was the only reason he was accepted into this ship after all, and he knew it.
Tom pulled out his gas torch. It cracked and hissed to life revealing the long shaft ahead of him. Today, Tom was tasked with crawling the length of the ship, all the way up and down the outer perimeter and back again, looking for any damaged wires. "F@&$!" Tom cursed as the newly minted light revealed a rodent skittered across his foot. Rats, a nuisance on earth, a potential death sentence here, were able to hitch a free ride after escaping from their comfinement due to a mishap with the custodian. The dark was the perfect place for them, and unfortunately for the ship, they had chewed through the lighting wires leaving this part of the ship near unusable.
Tom made his way down to the breaker box where he began to feed in a new wire. WHREEEEEEE BANG THOP! A loud thudding and clatering of metal echoed through the hall along with a scream that could chill the sun. Surprised, Tom realed towards the sound knocking his torch to the ground, shattering it. He was supposed to be the only one in this section, and he didn't want to find out why he wasn't anymore
Tom fumbled in the dark for his torch, hurriedly dropping to his knees. A sudden tinge of pain shot up his arm. "F$+&!". Tom shouted again as he winced, pulling a shard of glass out of his finger "I knew I should have worn my gloves today". Tom always hated the mechanics' gloves they issued him. They never fit his hands well enough, being a size too big, and he hated the feeling of constraint and numbness the leather provided. Now he lauded for it. Tom's finger began to bleed into his mouth as he felt the familiar contouring of the lantern in his other hand. The gas lantern, now shattered, produced a sputtering of flame that seemed to be sucked towards the noise. What glass that was left on the lantern produced a mosaic of red and black flowing lines as the bloods' coagulation began to take hold. Dancing shadows of devils beaconed him down the hall.
Tom walked along at a slogged pace. The smell of burnt steak and sulphur licked his nose as he got closer, making him even less willing to continue. "Hello, is anyone hurt?" Tom asked reluctantly. "I'm the electrician, and was just down here trying to---" Tom cut himself off as he entered the first open door in the hall, the smell of sulfur now a crescendo of putrification. THUNKA THUNKA THUNKA! Tom could barely make out a metal tray morphing and teetering side to side rapidly with the sound of a car motor about to blow a head gasket. Its center bent and contorted like a face gnawing as it hissed in the flicker of the lantern. That tray was only just sealing off the room and it's contents from being sucked into the blackness outside. "Where's the damn sealent?" Tom frantically thought. Every room on the outer perimeter of the Theseus had an emergency quick setting foam for just this scenario as self sealing rooms were somehow too costly for the budget of a ship worth a trillion dollars. Tom's eyes darted to where the fire extinguisher was located, noticing a ring of dust around where the sealent should have hung. "Just my luck," Tom groaned, "It must have been knocked down from whatever breached the hull". Adrenaline coarsed through Tom's veins heightening his senses. His finger burned as his increased heart rate raced. "There!" Tom dived onto the floor yanking the safety pin from its nozzle and spraying the composite foam at the pan. In seconds it was over. The room dead silent.
Tom lay there for what seamed like hours, exhausted. His body drenched in sweat. "Is this sweat?" Tom thought, lifting his hand off the floor. It was covered in some kind of black tar. Tom held his hand in front of his face using what little light his lantern gave off from the corner of the doorway to examine it. The tar was viscous and acrid, giving off the same odor as when he entered the room. From the flickering of the lantern it almost looked like it was breathing. BEEP BEEP BEEP! The silence was again broken by the sound of the personal alarm telling Tom to get back to work. "I guess it's only been a few minutes. Can't even be injured in this place" Tom remarked to himself as he silenced the alarm.
Tom made his way back and finished installing the new wire and flicked the switch. With a strobe and satisfying buzz, the lights hummed to life. Looking down the hall, Tom's trail of misery was illuminated. "I'd hate to be the one to clean that up". Tom looked down at his hand expecting to see the tar, but instead only a dried crimson remained. His cut was no longer bleeding and didn't even seam to be there. "That's odd" Tom thought, but given the tired aches in his body he didn't have the energy to think much more about it. Back in the barracks and out of his brief stint in hell, Tom clocked out and took a much needed shower. Laying his head on his pillow he immediately fell asleep...
Edit: added part two | 2021-10-28T01:47:33 | 2021-10-28T01:18:24 | 28 | 17 |
[WP] Humans have always been the friendliest and the most peaceful species in the galaxy. When one of the most ruthless empires decides to wipe out the pathetic humans and their diplomacy, they discover that humans have something that no one in the galaxy has ever seen. Nuclear weapons. | I had heard of the human super weapons, but I had heard such claims before.
When the Ruthkin emissaries boarded my flagship to receive my declaration of battle, they shreeked at me with hatred in thier eyes. Through furious chittering they told me of the doom-wrought cannons which would tear my fleet asunder. They perished as easy as the rest.
When the Ulvanites came to receive the declaration, They rejoiced for the chance to crush me under thier Stormtoothed cavalry. Thier ambassadors all but invited me to invade thier lands. Thier promises were as empty as thier future.
Strangest of all was the Kosal. When I declared my writ of extermination, thier people raved like the mad and weak minded. I eventually found thier display was that of a desperate being trying to convince a predator he is not worth the trouble.
When the humans came to receive my terms, thier words were different. My first commander saw the fear and licked his maw, but I saw something more.
The humans who spoke of thier weapons did so in hushed tones and reverant whispers. I saw in them a fear deeper than I have ever known...a fear not for my warhost.
As we departed thier lonely system for the last time, I recalled the wisdom of my broodfather. He told me the wise Hunter never seeks that which his prey fears more than a hunters teeth, lest he be the Hunter no longer.
To this cycle I still do not know what the humans fear most, but I hope to never know. I pray to the Bright one my people never learn the human's secret, so they will never know such terror. It will be the human's Burden to carry, for I saw in them enough fear to consume the Galaxy. | At first there was a flash, a moment's pause and then several more in succession, numbering twenty-four. "Ah, they have do have some form of defense." I mused to myself, the Supreme Leaders did expect a futile excuse for planetary defense on such a young race on the galactic scene. It would be as they have predicted, and just as easily dispatched.
"Ballistic missiles incoming admiral." the sensor array operator was looking at his display with a smirk to his reptilian face.
"We might have to launch countermeasures, the gnats on the planet think to ward us off with primitive technology." I commented smugly. "Deploy electronic countermeasures. The probes should easily keep these weapons away from our fleet. Prepare landing craft."
Minutes passed as the ballistic missiles approached, slowly like a crawler coming out of a sand pit. Glaciers seemed fast compared to the speed these ancient missiles were coming toward the fleet.
The fleet, Dracadia's most fearsome war machine. Four hundred ships bristling with photon weaponry the likes that few have survived. Many planets have fallen to the might of the fleet, none have escaped it's wrath.
"Sir, we've noticed that the missiles aren't even targeting ships. Trajectories seem to indicate a simple navigation system. We could merely open a hole in our formation and let them pass right through."
"Hm, good idea. Why waste resources when we don't need to. Pass the order around, maneuver the ships." I said, disappointed in the simplicity of this assault.
Time passed further as the fleet maneuvered created a hole, giving the missiles room to pass through their mass. Which they began to enter, unerringly as if mindlessly wandering the vastness of space.
At first there was a flash, a moment's pause and then many more in succession. As if a small sun was summoned, each missile detonated. Building on to each other's payload, the force of the blast grew exponentially with each explosion. A fireball was born, not seen since the days of the great nova which forced Dracadia's host from it's home system.
The great command ship shuddered, then began to tilt out of control as the guidance systems ceased controlling the ship.
"What is going on? Status report!" I yelled, then braced as unknown debris shattered the superstructure of the ship. Precious atmosphere began to vent out into the blackness of space.
I looked up into the void and the face of death looked back. Hundreds of ships shattered into shrapnel, the rest careening out of control as the destructive force of Twenty-four synchronized weapons took hold of the fleet. | 2020-02-07T13:09:20 | 2020-02-07T13:02:43 | 210 | 80 |
[WP]Tell me an emotional story about a man, using only what he would type into Google search | Great pregnancy foods
How to make wife happier during pregnancy
Are cats okay to be around pregnant women?
Local shelters
Price of spay/neuter in area
Best hospitals for delivery in area
Cost of child birth
Cheapest hospitals for delivery in area
Do men have to do anything during the birth
Keeping placenta?
Baby is crying and won't stop
Is it okay for a cat to sleep with a baby
When do babies start walking
Are stink bugs poisonous
Are crickets poisonous
How to stop child from eating bugs
Local dog shelters
Small dog beds
How big do shepherd mixes get
Large dog beds
List for first day of school
Parks in area
Nature walks
Poison ivy treatments
Romantic spots for valentines day
Babysitter in area
Preparing child for middle school
Should young kids have phones?
Cell phone contracts
Cheap cell phone contracts
Great projects for science fairs
Potato batteries
Why doesn't potato battery work
Potato battery not lighting up
Play-Dough battery
Play-Dough battery not working
Great projects for science fairs
Tips for The Talk
How long do cats live?
How to get your pre-teen to talk to you
Awesome hiking trips
Hiking gear
Treatment for tick bites
High school algebra tutorial
Algebra worksheet
Prom dresses
Great local colleges
Graduation gifts
Things you wish you brought to college with you
Empty nest syndrome
What to do with a spare room
Library remodel plans
| - Online dating sites
- First date ideas
- How much do you tip
- What clothes do you wear to a fancy restaurant
- Ways to save money
- How to get proposal ring in secret
- What is a good price for a ring
- Resort honeymoon suite cost
- How to save a lot of money
- First class tickets to Hawaii
- Coach tickets to Hawaii
- How to budget your vacation
- Romantic ideas for honeymoon
- How to tell if it's a boy or girl early on
- Local available night shifts
- Baby toys
- Does the father go to the baby shower
- Is it okay if a baby is late
- Strong cheap Liquor
- Strong liquor
- Funeral planner
- Putting child up for adoption
- Suicide Hotline
- Can I take back my child that I put up for adoption
- Alcoholics Anonymous
- Online college
- Necessary items for raising a baby
- Baby clothes
- Lunchbox and Backpack
- Available jobs with four year degree
- Elementary school supplies
- Little league sign ups
- High school supplies
- Letterman jacket
- Tuxedo rental for teenager
- Athletic scholarships available in early high school
- Used car for son
- New car for son
- Driving instructors
- Driving safety tips
- Why does God hate me
- Funeral planner
- Most painless way to die
| 2015-02-04T18:24:30 | 2015-02-04T17:35:01 | 672 | 161 |
[WP] You are a museum curator with a dark secret. You have entered into a pact with a living painting that devours its viewers. You setup a "private viewing room" and specifically target wealthy and corrupt patrons to be its meals. | ‘Girl in Yellow Flowers’ is not an especially interesting or technically advanced oil painting, even you can admit that. It sits prettily enough, framed in bronze, among its peers along the walls, created by geniuses. It was placed initially as a foil to its friends, to give the viewer the uncomplicated pleasure of a simple dark-skinned girl bedded in sunflowers, brown eyes staring demurely down and away.
Oh but when you’re in love, you’re in love. You love her naked lips, the curve of her jawline, the faint shape of her skinny body under her plain pale dress. Her plaited hair, strands already coming loose from her repose, is so dear to you that you see them behind your eyelids every night as you drop into sleep.
“What are you dreaming about, lover?” The painting whispers as you come to stand before it, keeping out of the reach of her outstretched hands.
“You, always you,” you reply, wishing you could gather her in your arms and take her mouth, imagining her cool lips parting to reveal a hot velvet tongue. You know your love is one-sided, that she would sooner devour you than kiss you, but you ache with it anyway. The human heart is a strange beast, perhaps even stranger than whatever your love is.
“Then give me something good to eat,” the painting says.
Your love is a greedy creature, fed just last week on an ugly billionaire’s child. You can still smell the stench of old meat wafting from her. In the corner of the painting, hidden by petals, is a child’s bone, mostly white. You will remind your darling to hide it better later.
“I will, my love,” you say, tearing your attention regretfully away from her and to the iPad in your hands, “I promise, you will gorge yourself on the best of men.”
“I tire of your selection,” your love says, causing you to look up in surprise. This is the first you’ve heard of this in the years you have served her.
“Forgive me, I had not noticed your displeasure,” you say, carefully neutral.
A sigh echoes in the empty museum, such a sweet sound still despite everything, “I become bored of the tender meat of the wealthy, too soft and dripping with fat! I long for variety. A grieving man, perhaps, raw and soaked in tears. Or an old woman’s bitter flesh wrapped around brittle bones.”
“Anything, my love, anything,” you say, not understanding but willing to. Desperate to. Your time is running out, say all the best neurosurgeons in the continent. You must give her a feast to last an age.
The next day ‘Girl in Yellow Flowers’ is released into the Louvre for public viewing in the first time in almost a hundred years. People of all demographics flock towards her, fat and thin, large and small.
You grit your teeth against hot jealousy, forced to watch from afar in silence as both the unwashed masses and the Louvre’s sophisticated security system prevent you from your accustomed conversations with your love.
Finally, a quiet moment with her as she is getting ready to be shipped back, a growing number of mysterious disappearances cutting her debut short. You stand as close to her as you dare as she rages about human stupidity, violently upset at her ruined feast.
There are flashes of white amongst the flowers, some more obvious than others. You will remind her to hide them later.
“My love,” you soothe when she finally lets you get a word in, “when all of this dies down, I have prepared a final gift. You will go on a tour so far and long that you will have more to eat than you have ever before. I leave you in the greatest of hands.”
“Leave me?” your love says sharply, you shiver at the banked fury in her voice.
“Regrettably yes, my love,” you say, your voice strong and calm despite your sorrow, “I have few remaining days left in this world. Once the tour was set in motion, I was planning to offer up myself to you as a humble meal. You will be well taken care of following my departure, my team of lawyers will see to it as per my will.”
Your love is silent for a long time, so long that you fear the worst. Stupid. Stupid! You should have waited to the last to tell her, or perhaps died outside of her presence and spared her the annoyance of having to consume an old sick servant as yourself.
“Perhaps you are mistaken,” her voice comes finally, silkily, “I had not given you permission to leave me.”
“I deeply apologize, my love,” you say through your relief, “everything is set in place. My suicide note should contain everything. Tomorrow, my legal team will be informed that I am drowned somewhere that they will never reach.”
“Well then, it is set. Come here to me, my love,” she says, something dark and monstrous in her voice. You shiver again, your mouth dry and full of the taste of fear and love and anticipation. You will leave this world her meal, your bones perhaps a fixture of the painting, as now there will be no one to remind her to hide them away.
You stretch your hand towards her and feel her bear down.
——————
Excerpt from the New York Post, under Art and Reviews:
“Girl in Yellow Flowers” is a stunning masterpiece that is at once simplistic as it is powerful. The piece depicts a dark-skinned girl sprawled out amongst sunflowers, curled around her older lover whose face glows towards her in worshipful adoration, entwined and in love for all eternity.
Follow it on tour to see it for yourself. Dates and venues are below. | "Et, Monsieur LePatomy, comment-ca va?"
"I'm not French you nincompoop, I'm English. Just because I have a French sounding last name you think I'm French? It's pronounced Lee-pay-tommy. Lepatomy."
"Alright, Mr. Lee-pay-tommy-"
"Lepatomy, pronounce it right!"
"Lepatomy, as I was saying-"
"Lepatomy! Lepatomy! How hard is it to pronounce one word?"
"Well, Sir-"
"Now you're not even trying. How often must I suffer in the presence of you nincompoops? Morons, the lot of you, they ought to fire the guy who made you curator!"
"Do you want to visit the painting or not Mr.Lepatomy?"
"Well then, why didn't you say so? Hurry up I've got an appointment in ten."
"Right along Mr. Lepatomy-"
"Lepatomy!"
"Yes yes, just down this corridor. I will leave you with the painting, as you have requested."
"Use my name! It's Lepatomy!"
"The next patron is coming in three minutes! Do you want to see the painting Mr. Lepatomy?"
"... Alright, where is it?"
"Right inside this door, Sir."
"Lepatomy. Great, now that's a mighty fine painting I can case. Look at the frame, got to be worth at least thirty thousand grand and what the heck is that but that looks valuable-"
"Finally, that's the last of him. The screams should be starting soon, I'll lock the door. Better straighten up my tie. I wonder if he deserved it?... Ah, the next Patron is here. Hello, Mr. Trump."
"You can call me Donald."
"Well then, Donald, let's hurry up and see the painting, shall we?" | 2018-07-30T18:12:53 | 2018-07-30T17:12:03 | 29 | 11 |
[WP] Your superpower isn't as flashy or obvious as other, but it's one of the most powerful. You always guess the code, the evil plan, the safest route. You're always right. | "How the hell do we bring that thing down??" Screamed Livewire, floating midair and staring wide eyed to the trail of destruction left by the creature.
The Titan was stalking toward the downtown area, slow but inexorable, as tall as a ten stories building. Ground shook at every step, its five unblinking eyes fixed on its target.
"It shouldn't be too hard; first, go- just a second." I replied, interrupted by an insistent beeping.
"Are you making pop corn? For real?!" Asked my partner through the phone, as I headed toward the kitchen. "People is dying here!"
"Relax, if you do as I say, you'll get the lowest possible bodycount. And, uh, you'll survive unscathed." I continued distractedly, holding the cellphone between my ear and my shoulder.
"Sometimes you are really a jerk..." Sneered the other superhero, nervously keeping an eye on the colossus.
"Whatever. Now, please, do as I say. Head on the rooftop on the left. Yes that one." I instructed her, highlighting the place on her HUD. "Once there, wait exactly thirty-five seconds and blast the support of that billboard over there."
"That's it?" Asked the woman, perplexed. "And what would that be supposed to- wait, I know: you have no idea."
"Exactly." I munched through the speaker, pushing a handful of popcorn in my mouth while keeping my eyes on the live feed. "By the way, twenty five seconds. And move one step on the left."
The heroine begrudgingly obeyed, still intimidated by the colossal figure trampling through the street and approaching the storm drainl, the last barrier before the densely populated residential neighborhood: evacuation was on the way, but if it got there it would still be a carnage.
"Five, four, three, two, one... Now." I lazily signaled and, sure enough, a blast of hyonized air zigzagged through the air, hitting a billboard a few hundred feet away. Not even close to the Titan, which barely gave it a thought: for a full minute, it continued stomping toward its target, its massive hooves easily moving it into the storm drain.
"Uuuh, nothing is happening." Nervously said Livewire, observing the scene. "Are you-"
She didn't even finish her sentence, when the monster fell: its feet slipped on the cracked floor, and its massive skull hit the base of the pillar of the bridge traversing the canal with a loud crack.
We both remained in silence for several seconds. "Well, that was anticlimactic." I muttered, disappointedly putting down the bowl of popcorn.
"What the hell happened?" Asked Livewire, warily approaching the colossal body, "is it dead? Just like this? What happened?"
"Your guess is good as mine." I shrugged, checking the cameras on the drones and trying to figure it out. It took me a minute to understand. "Oh, I got it. The billboard fell on an exhausted oil tanker, which spilled its content in the canal. The big guy slipped on it, and it fell temple first against the base of the pillar."
"That was... uuuh... surprisingly easy. Maybe you should alert the town downstream to contain the flood of oil? Isn't that kinda polluting?"
"Yeah, maybe. Let me finish the popcorn, and I'll give them a call." | "Hey, Captain Foresight!"
I heard the bellow from across the restaurant. Enjoying a burger and fries in peace was becoming increasingly difficult.
"It's you, right? Who do like in the game tonight?"
The question came from the same, vaguely youngish, vaguely middle-to-upperclassish, not vaguely dudes who always think they are entitled to ask me those kinds of questions. Not that I could be too mad about it, since that was how my powers were brought to light. Or at least that's how the Valley Forge Casino and Sportsbook management became the first outsiders to figure it out. After I cleaned them out, they made me an offer - get us our money back tenfold or get reported to every state gaming commission in the country. It took me less than three days.
The good thing about questions like these is that I don't even really need to know who was playing. I just make up some sportsball shit and they can take it to the bank.
"Take the over and the home team minus the points," I said as I quickly finished up my last bite. Once people knew I was here, I'd be getting swarmed in seconds.
"YES! Awesome! Thanks, Cap!" I half-heartedly returned this guy's high five and knew that would be the high point of my day as I saw heads start to turn my way. I stood up from my chair. I heard the questions coming my way and knew I had to get on the move.
"Dump him. Dump him. Dump her. Marry her. You're not getting into Dartmouth." Four out of five angry customers. Wait, no. Five out of five. I need to move faster. The angry murmurs are already starting. I duck out the exit just in time to grab a bike stashed next to the door and jam it against the handle before the first milkshake splatters against the glass. A couple guys are already out of their seats headed angrily towards me. The bike won't hold the door closed long, but it'll be long enough for me to be well out of sight before they get there. So many people ask questions without thinking about whether they actually want the answers.
I approach my car and see the Undersecretary standing by the passenger side door, waiting for me to unlock it. "Perfect timing," she says.
"Fuck. What do you want?" I ask.
"There's a situation we need your advice on." I've heard this line so often that I voice it concurrently with her.
"My advice? Quit worrying so goddamn much about being right all the time." | 2019-11-29T12:11:40 | 2019-11-29T11:13:36 | 55 | 20 |
[WP]: No other intelligent, spacefaring life form knows the concept of sunk cost fallacy. For most of them, wars can be ended simply by presenting their capability for further war, and the weaker one yields. Humans, however, will take anyone on out of pure spite. | The white room stung at his eyes. Each wall radiating a pale light that both illuminated and silhouetted each dignitary within the chambers. He squinted at each, taking in their features before settling upon the near hairless biped before him. He stood as he gazed down at the human with disdain, the device at his neck humming faintly as it translated his words.
"The human race has been allowed passage through our quadrants with impunity. The Lattice will not stand as this fledgling race is given preferential treatment by the Federation."
A faint thrum of dissent and agreement broke out amongst those gathered before the insectoid being stood and cast a finger upon the human at the center of the room.
"Dulkar agrees with the Lattice and we are willing to sanction a hold on all trade with any Federation aligned system if these primates are not sent back from whence they came and Federation status revoked."
The pair looked to eachother with what compared to a smirk as the chamber rose in volume. More and more of the quorum began to show their support of the motion. Slowly the human began to rise from his seat at the center, as a quiet fell upon them all. They waited, patiently, for complete silence before speaking in an even tone.
"What would the Lattice or any of the Federation do if Humanity continued, despite any actions you might decide to take against us today?"
There was an uproar as the various translators struggled to convert the various cries, shouts, snarls and growls that filled the room.
"-ou dare defy th-""Not worth the expeditions into th-""-ake a look at this as-"
It became clear to those present that Humanity was quickly becoming the ire of the collective present as the speaker of the Lattice called out over the din.
"Quiet now, quiet now. The human is simply showing us what it means to truly unworthy of the Federation. Motion to remove humanity from the Federation and bar all trade with their system until they have achieved Federation qualifications [5.6.3.4](https://5.6.3.4) subsection @#&\*@#&."
Green and red lights filled the chamber as votes appeared before each dignitary. Slowly each of them cast their votes. Soon the room was almost completely cast in green, with only a few of the chairs in the negative.
"Motion passed. Humanity has been stripped of its Federation statu-"
The human laughed. A slight chortle that grew in volume.
"What is so funny. . . human?" The last word was spat out of the Lattice dignitary's maw. Spittle splashing across the desk below to a hiss and sizzle as smoke rose from the small puddle.
"Oh, nothing is funny. Not at all." Said the pale being before them. Their even tone now almost playful as they looked up at the Lattice dignitary, holding his gaze. "Humanity intends to continue their voyage and passage through Federation systems. . . Unabated."
The uproar began once more.
"Preposterous!""Shoot them out of th-""ENOUGH!"
Silence fell once more as the Lattice spoke once more.
"If Humanity persists through Lattice systems, we will be forced to open fire upon all ships and will move to imprison every Human present in all Federation systems, including all Human embassies."
The human continued to stare up at him, unflinching but for a smile slowly creeping at the corners of their mouth.
"War, then?"
There was a communal gasp across the chamber as hushed yet frantic whispers echoed throughout. The Lattice Dignitary gave gave what could be called a smile, as small acidic spittle now dripped from their maw onto the table below.
"Pitiful. Humanity would not survive a war with the Lattice. We have the most advanced weaponry in the Federation and an armada that would dwarf the Human systems tenfold. You really wish to declare war with us, and all the Federation?" He gestures to all those present as nods and agreements swept across the now glaring assembly.
The human laughed once more. "You *aliens-*"A gasp swept the assembly at the slur."-cleary do not know the history of Humanity." They stated, their tone now even and calm once more.
"We do not care for your short and violent history, Human. You have proven to be unwor-""I wasn't finished." They interrupted.
The Lattice glowered before waving a hand at the human. "Fine, as your last act in the Federation, proceed. Fillibuster to your hearts co-"
"Humanity," They interrupted once more, to the chagrin and bemusement of the assembly. "has made an art of war amongst ourselves. You see we are petty, selfish, violent, and stupid as individuals, let alone as a collective. Ever since the Division of 2016, our politics grew more. . . primitive; based upon a foundation of mutually assured destruction. Humanity barely survived itself."
"Then why should the Federation have ever bothered with your ra-"*"I wasn't finished. . ."* This time, the words left the Human's mouth, laced with such venom that threatened to make the sizzling puddle on the desk seem like spilt milk on a tiled floor.
Silence.
"As I was saying. We perfected our *'Diplomacy'.* We got better and better at it each year. We never used it though, the weapons that is. They just sat there. Waiting."
Silence hung in the air as those who had voted against the motion slowly sunk in their chairs and realisation began to dawn on the faces of others.
"Until we joined the federation. Then we transported them to every Embassy, every transport, every port, station, system and home planet we could."
The Lattice's maw dripped anew as the human smiled up at them. Dulkar looked between the two, unsure. "Your race would not survive such an act. The entire Federation would wipe out your entire exis-"
*"Then go ahead"*
Silence.
The Lattice stood in shock as the puddle finally breached the desk and a wet splatter echoed out before more smoke began to rise from the newly formed hole.
"W-what?"
The human stared back. Unblinking. "Go. Ahead."
Silence. . . and then. . .
"Dulkar would like to recant their vote on the motion." The light on their desk switched to red.
"Uniting worlds would like to recant their vote."
Red.
"Hassar recants their vote."
Red.
"-ille recants th-""-oury recants -""-ar recan-""- recants."
Red. Red. Red. Red.
The room was suddenly bathed in a red glow as the Dignitary from the Lattice looked down at their ruined desk. The green glow still blaring through at them as the screen glitched. With a shaky hand, they pressed the red button, but the screen remained green.
"Umm. . ." All eyes turned to the Lattice. "The button doesn't seem to be working. I- Uh. . ."
Silence.
"Humanity recognises The Lattice's opposition to their membership in the Federation and desire to strip Humanity of all privileges and protections they have to offer. As such, Humanity would like to put forward a motion, against The Lattice."
With a shaky hand, he thumbs at the translator at his neck. "O-oh? W-what would that be?"
Even the translator betrayed the waver in the Lattice's voice before the human spoke.
"Motion submitted for a trade embargo to be placed upon the Lattice and all goods coming to and from their ports to be seized, effective immediately."
The Human smiled, as their face was slowly illuminated by the green glow from the desks surrounding them. | After everything that happened this year, it honestly didn't surprise me when the ships appeared. Thousands of them cast shadows upon our cities, but that wasn't what terrified us. Their Mother-Ship hovered above the planet, it's sheer size large enough to cut a hole through our atmosphere if it were to land! Their arrival was abrupt, as was their demand for our surrender. The message was difficult to decipher even for our most advanced AI, but the intent was clear with what little we had.
"Your world...Destroyed... No chance of survival... You must (...)"
By the time we sent our progress report the alien ships had landing parties in every major city. Our soldiers were hesitant to fire at first, hoping the aliens came in peace. That was until they started taking people. The aliens firearms would render victims unconscious as floating metallic discs began whisking them away to the landing ships. Each disc was protected by a sophisticated, invisible barrier that prevented the soldiers from intervening. Our soldiers retreated, unwilling to fire without the command.
"Sir, I've got a progress report on the alien message!" I exclaimed to the president only one day before he was to leave office. "There is only a few words missing from the translation, what should we do?"
"Your world destroyed? No chance of survival? You must...?" The president exclaimed. "You must surrender, obviously! Trust me, I know aliens, believe me! This says YOU MUST SURRENDER!" the president said giddy with excitement. "Looks like I'm getting my martial law!"
Once the orders were out, the soldiers began firing with the full force of the United States military! ... Only... Nothing happened. The same barriers that protected their floating discs protected their ships and their soldiers. Even our most advanced weapons were incapable of penetrating their barriers. We caused more damage to ourselves as the exploded missiles sent uncontrolled shrapnel across the landscape and bullets deflected haphazardly.
The aliens sent another message before we could decode the first one, and it became the priority.
" resistance...futile...must comply... Your world will be destroyed. You must (...)"
"These aliens think we're going to give up that easily? I don't give up, believe me! " The president boasts. "I never give up even when I know I've lost, never in my life! I always win, you know they call me a winner! Never lost a war. Now, generals, whadda we got?"
The newly appointed Space Force general approaches. " Sir, We've got intel that some of the landing ships have begun ferrying the captured citizens to the mother-ship. Apparently they are being held in various containment rooms throughout the vessel. The aliens do not appear to be searching the civilians they bring onto the ship, leading me to believe an asset could be planted with a Portable-Nuclear-Device, perhaps concealed in a suitcase or backpack. We would have to pick the least suspicious candidate, likely a child. The blast would assuredly obliterate the thousands of people within the containment room, but perhaps the damage to the mother-ship and the message that we are willing to sacrifice our own would end their assault."
"So you are saying many of them may die?" the president asks, as if he had only heard bits and pieces of the generals intel.
"Yes, sir, many of our civilians will die," the general replies.
"Many of my supporters may die... but that is a sacrifice I am willing to make!" The president exclaims.
The tension was high as we monitored the progress from the safety of the presidential bunker. The president said I had good looks, so they allowed me to step away from my duties deciphering until the all clear.
"Asset Billy is in place, awaiting presidential orders," the general says.
"Do I need the football? Wheres the football? Oh, I don't. I just uh, say, what? " the president asks frantically.
"We just need a confirmation, sir..." the general replied.
The president stands up and begins to boast. "This explosion is going to be big, huge some would say. I'm going to be a hero!... and Billy of course, but me! No other president would handle this so brilliantly! Blow it up!"
It worked! It actually worked! The mother-ship was still intact, but it did enough damage for the aliens to retreat! Gone as quick as they came using some sort of warping technology! I was hopeful once I returned to my station that I could decipher useful intelligence in case they returned. I knew the president was starting an emergency broadcast from the Rose Garden, so I tuned in while I worked. I knew his boasting might be cringey, but I wanted to bask in the victory myself.
"I, your most beautiful, gracious, caring, wonderful, powerful, humble... president have saved the world! The aliens tried to take you beautiful people away from me, but I stopped them! Sadly some of our own had to be sacrificed in the blast, but they were from crime-ridden democrat cities anyway! Believe me, it was the only way, I would know, believe me. " The presidents tangent continues for many minutes, until it is abruptly interrupted. " Wait, whats that, the big thing in the sky!" the president shrieks as he begins running towards his bunker.
"I don't know sir! It's some kind of massive anomaly! I don't understand how our sensors didn't see it coming! It is asteroid sized... perhaps made of... antimatter? Maybe it's shrouded in Dark Matter... I don't... OH GOD! " an unknown scientist screams.
I had become distracted by the terrible broadcast. Steadfast, I returned to my station to determine if the deciphered text could save us from whatever was out there! As I looked upon the monitor my heart sank to the floor.
"Your world will be destroyed. You have no chance of survival... You must (evacuate)!" | 2021-01-19T01:44:24 | 2021-01-19T00:16:37 | 45 | 22 |
[WP] You gained immortality by absorbing thousands of souls. They have gotten used to it and act like Twitch chat watching a livestream of your life. | > Hey, now I'm hungry!
> Is she really talking about food in *front of us?!*
> Wait, what was that? I didn't see it. What is she holding?
> What did Maggie say? I didn't hear it down there?
> Guys, we are eating pancakes! ***HYPE HYPE HYPE***
> No, you dumbass. She is eating. Not us.
> ***HYPE HYPE HYPE HYPE HYPE HYPE HYPE***
> ***HYPE HYPE HYPE HYPE HYPE***
> Stop spamming- I mean, screaming!
> ***HYPE HYPE***
> Fucking noobs. How long are you here anyways? Like, tenth from the end? Well, *us* who got there among the first know better than to–
> ***HYPE HYPE HYPE HYPE***
> You know what? I'll put it your way, so you understand properly: 🤡🖕👉🚪🤐🤐🤐
> Hey, guys, we are up to a problem...
> Those idiots who think this is entertaining... NotLikeThis
> Guys, I'm serious...
> I wish there was a slowmode and I didn't have to ignore those LUL, monkaS, Kappa and PogChamp screaming turds manually.
> *Hey!* Everybody listen to me. We. Have. A. Problem.
> Say what, or be fucking quiet already!
> Yes, nobody is interested!
> Guys... She is eating pancakes made by Maggie... With milk... LaCtOsE... So see you all on the toilet.
> Oh nooooooooo!
> FeelsBadMan
> Oh no!
> NOOOOOO! Stop it, big one! I know you can hear us! Don't do this!
> She can't hear...
> She can, but she ignores us.
> ***STOP STOP STOP STOP***
> And this is the reason why. | They always said Gingers had no souls. You always laughed, you had plenty. Anyone who locked eyes with you was a potential soul, another freckle. The first was grandma, a weird freckle on your right arm. Her voice started commenting back as far as you can remember. What were you three when she passed? It was mostly elderly people you knew in passing as baby, a great uncle or some third cousin. An eldery family friend. Then in first grade you got your first random. He was a driver who took you the airport.
You didn't have much use for the voices. They were low enough that you could tune them out. Once you made a comment about grandma, something she told you that happened before you were born. It freaked out your mom and dad. When you said grandma told you they didn't understand. You realized you were different. You were alone.
Then you weren't. You went over a friend Gracie's house. You had made the connection that eyes were the key to soul, so you were very big on making eye contact with everyone you met. When your friend introduced you to their mom and dad you made long eye contact with each of them. Then it happened your friends older brother came down, fiery red hair. He introduced himself, "Seamus, and those are mine." Seamus didn't know much more than you. But he knew a little and so you learned. It seems to be closeness to the person, both in how well you knew each other, and distance to them when they passed, and being the first or last Ginger to lock unto their soul played a factor.
The voices were lost amongst each other. Other than Grandma. She'd give you advice. Stop you and make you think about a problem you'd otherwise make a mistake on a test, or if you were forgetting something she was there. The random people complained a lot. Missing their friends, family, why were they trapped in this neverending nightmare, blah, blah, blah. You had no idea what the nightmare could be you were off to your friend Gracie's 8th birthday, there was going to games, pizza, cake, and you were going to ask Seamus more questions. He was 13 now, and so much more knowledgeable than you.
Dad parked across the street from Grace's. You were so excited, as soon as the car stopped, you unbuckled, opened the door, jumped off the booster seat and ran. All the voices in your head blared "NOOO!" and you saw the headlights. The next thing you knew you were standing on the sidewalk completely unharmed. You were crying. Everyone was looking over you to see how it was you were unhurt. The dent in the electric car was huge. But you weren't unhurt. There was an empty spot on your arm where your first weird freckle used to be. Grandma's voice was gone. Either you did it unconsciously or grandma did it to protect you, but her soul was spent, and you were safe.
You asked Seamus if he ever lost a freckle. He has no idea what you were talking about. You didn't explain it. It was your secret. With grandma gone the other voices got louder. They were all always talking. But if you thought about an individual's freckle you could single out their voice. Everyone always had a different opinion on everything. When you liked someone, especially a teacher, or someone who knew something that might be useful you made sure to make eye contact at every interaction with that person. While some people found long unbroken eye contact weird. Most people you were just a really good listener.
And now that you're older you are a really good listener. Just it's not always to the people around you. You use your souls for power. You have thousands now that you are an adult. Writing in a foreign language, a dozen people answer instantly. Everyone has a suggestion on what you should do or a comment on it. The new souls learn the way of things quickly. Be useful or be used. You don't have to almost die to spend a soul, you can just discard them. Or you can do the impossible. You jumped far enough that you want to say you could fly if you wanted to use enough souls. Dad was diagnosed with stage four cancer, that was hard, it cost six souls. But it would've hurt mom too much. No one understands, except the souls you have and Seamus.
Seamus, he understands. In fact, you've met a lot of Gingers, but he's the only one you know who understands. There was a few, but you only met them in passing, but you seemingly assessed each other. You hadn't really seen Seamus since the party. Seamus is living the quiet life. Graduated college, but yet to get a good job, seeming to struggle not to move back home. It seems the voices haven't worked out for him. Seamus is surprised when you run into him. You lock eyes. "Aww Seamus, it's great running into you. I have so many questions and love to talk, let me give you my number so we can chat, unfortunately I'm running late." Seamus is confused when walk by. Too many things happened at once. First there is the poison, you have enough people in your head, that figuring out who to get into his house and the best poison to use wasn't a problem. Leftovers and then go to work. Then the poison must have numbed him so much he didn't realize you stabbed him. And finally when you stopped behind him, he didn't move at all when you shot him. The voices in your head: the stabbing definitely did it; he was your friend how could you; it was the bullet; no way the poison we worked on got him; I don't want to be in such a horrible person; quiet! he'll throw you away next; that's fine, I don't know what's next but it has to be better than here. A few moments pass, then you feel you back fill with freckles, you're searching for one when you here the voice.
"You! How could you do this to me!"
It's simple Seamus, there can be only one. | 2019-09-27T04:08:00 | 2019-09-27T03:10:57 | 428 | 282 |
[WP] The crew-member examines the now-empty, malfunctioning stasis-pod. The specimen is of a species that had spread to and became apex predator of every region on its homeworld. The captain must be warned, even though it's likely everyone on board is as good as dead already. The human has escaped. | "Damn!" Ixil looked at the remains of the stasis tube, still covered with a chilly mist. He turned to a nearby ensign. "Call the captain, sound general quarters, we need to get ready to fight!"
"What? What's going..."
*"Now!"*
Alarms began to sound as the ship roused itself to battle stations. Moments later, the captain was on deck with them.
"Alright, what's got your tail in a knot? Why are you waking up the whole ship over an escaped specimen?"
"Captain, this is no ordinary specimen. It's an intelligent species from a high-threat planet, and we were evaluating it as a potential battle thrall. It's aerobic chemistry is an order of magnitude more efficient than ours, with a corresponding increase in strength and speed. It also comes from a fifth-stage civilization, which means that it won't be surprised by advanced technology and it understands the concept of space travel, so we can't..."
"In plain Trade-tongue?"
Ixil shrugged. "Basically, imagine something as smart as you are, but twice as strong and fast. It just punched its way out of a stasis tube, it knows that it's on a spaceship, and it'll do whatever it takes to get home again."
"Alright, I get your drift. You want me to treat it like a hostile boarder, not an overgrown ape."
"Pretty much. If we get an armed response team ready and clear the ship top to bottom, we can probably take it down. It can't punch through armor and it dies to a laser like anything else. But if it catches you off guard, or you're not *wearing* armor, it'll pull your head clean off your shoulders before you can move."
The Captain gestured at his chest, with its conspicuous lack of body armor. "You do realize that this is an *Explorer-class* ship, right? We have *one* response team on the entire ship and they double as our Enviro research team. The last time they fired their lasers was back at the Academy."
"I know that. And I told Warlord Tress that we weren't equipped for this mission, and he said to do it anyway."
"Of course he did. If something goes wrong, he'll just blame the Xenology Department."
The captain lashed his tail and strode to a nearby console. "Well, too late to complain. All hands. Secure hatches, shelter in place, and call out any intruders. Response Team 1, begin search pattern on the Cargo Deck. Target is a two-meter bipedal mammal with pale skin. Engineering, stand by to vent internal atmosphere if necessary."
He turned back to Ixil. "If it comes down to it, we can just seal off his compartment and vent the air. This monster of yours still needs to breathe, right?"
"Yes. And its planet has more oxygen in its atmosphere than ours, so he's probably feeling pretty sluggish already. Unless it..."
A light blinked on the console. *Captain, this is Raptor 1. One of the emergency lockers has been opened. Looks like the intruder ripped apart one of the suits.*
"...unless it figures out how to use the emergency life support packs." Ixil sighed. "We are *so* dead." | "Oh. No. Oh no. Oh, captain!"
His breath quickened. His hearts pulsed erratically. His skin turned bluer than ever. Images flashed through his mind. The crew must be dead. The captain must be fighting. The ship must be wrecked. He almost cried.
Of course, Delta-4 couldn't help but become overwhelmed with panic. It was, after all, his first day on the job. He had fought through the arduous training like a bear fighting for its life, and to his own surprise, he graduated top of his division. But no one was prepared for humans. No member of the migan race was prepared.
It was much like any other Sentience Study mission. They'd actually received signals from the humans, and immediately departed for what they called Earth. Delta-4 was just another sentry, prepared with a shock-gun in case they went hostile. But what they saw was so much worse.
They imprisoned living beings and slaughtered them for sustenance. They discarded so much of what they created that it was destroying species. They alone were responsible for poisoning the air, and according to legend, creating weapons of unreasonable destruction. Had they no morals? Had they no sense?
It was obvious that they were of utmost interest and danger to their planet and others. In their usual fashion, they stealthily took a human from a remote settlement, though they were treated more cautiously. While in stasis, their anatomy could be studied, their memories examined, and their bodies maintained.
If it wasn't for the storm, their plan would have been as foolproof as ever. But now, the human is gone. And Delta-4 has to deal with it.
Many deep breaths later, and his skin turned to a neutral grey. He switched on his weapon, and crept forward, slowly, cautiously. His footsteps echoed through the ship, a melancholy chorus to this terrible occurrence. Nothing seemed amiss, but the human was out, there's no doubt of that. He kept moving, step by step, scanning the metal walls with terrified precision.
Suddenly: footsteps. Several things crossed his mind at once again, he's not ready, he forgot to alert the captain, he never said goodbye. A voice echoed around him.
"Where am I? Why me? What did I do to deserve this? I just want to be with my family. I hope these creatures are friendly"
A dirty tanned hand came into view. D-4 raised his weapon and flinched. The human stumbled forth. It spoke, "Wait, please, I-". He fired.
It was unconscious. Drained of adrenaline and filled with relief, D-4 collapsed with it. He laughed uncontrollably, in shock and awe. Then, he was calm. Dragging it back to its pod, he thought to himself: what was it saying? In fact, why didn't it attack me at all? It looked... scared. It couldn't be... No. It couldn't. With a quick shake of his head, D-4 closed the pod, and walked away. The crew was safe. | 2018-07-31T16:36:31 | 2018-07-31T14:17:28 | 30 | 12 |
[WP] You were genetically modified as an embryo to survive on Mars. You can breath the thin atmosphere of carbon dioxide. You are impervious to the cold. And now you are growing up on the red planet, raised by parents who might as well be aliens to you, trying to figure out who you are. | I live in a time between two stases - the world where we can differentiate to be whatever we want, no matter our genetics, and the world where we can modify ourselves (again, for the sake of freedom).
I live in the era of growing pains - the era where the only way to be genetically modified is in the womb. My life has been predestined for me by my parents, in grad school and seduced by the idea of being the first parents of a child able to live on Mars. When my birth was a success, they immediately began making the program public, not realizing that they had created a new species, a species doomed to live on a planet of cold and rust with parents who must live in seperate quarters for their feeble bodies.
The technology was not advanced enough for me to be able to breathe oxygen and carbon dioxide at the same time. I was placed in a pod until I was transported to Mars, and, to this day, I have never touched my family. I must wear an Earth suit to enter their room, and they must wear a Martian one to enter the rest of the world.
It isn’t that I hate them; though I find their selfishness contemptible and their foresight lacking. They have done the best they can to raise me. I know if they could do it all over again, they would let me be normal. They respect my choice enough for that, at least.
So I stand, in a T-shirt and jeans, on a planet that would freeze to death any normal person that tried to live upon it. There are a group of M-humans my age sitting in a circle, talking. I walk over, and listen to them talk. This is a group of people who have learned, firsthand, how powerless pity is in making someone feel welcome. They do not know me, who I am, or how I have condemned them. They only see my thicker, paler, skin, the ridges on my neck, and my discolored veins.
I slip easily into the conversation. There is a camaraderie here, even on Mars. There is a place for everyone, even on Mars. I will find my people, even on Mars.
I look into the tinted sky and see the Sun, the beacon of light that ties all of our lives together, Martian and Earthian alike. There is hope for us yet. | "Gentlemen, please take a seat."
The small group emerged from their quiet conversations and positioned themselves around the unassuming table. Meetings such as these were nothing like Hollywood would have you believe. Real decisions weren't made in bright conference rooms in D.C., or in ornate Italian libraries overlooking the Vatican. The modern world was molded here, in the shadows of a nondescript bunker known only to the members of The Council.
"Time is short," said the Chairman, his face cloaked in darkness. "For those of you who have just arrived: we intercepted a transmission thanks to #5's well placed sources in Chinese space agency. It is a video message, roughly one minute long, and the point of origin has been confirmed as Mars."
Figures shifted in the dim light. No matter how many elections this group had manipulated, no matter how many disasters they had diverted -- or in some cases, facilitated -- learning of contact with their neighboring planet was startling.
"#5 has informed me that we have only hours until this broadcast reaches the satellites of every major nation. By that time, we will need to have a strategy in place that serves this Council's interests." Then, over his shoulder to an unseen technician, the Chairman said, "Play the clip."
The video's lighting was poor. Atmospheric conditions on the red planet weren't conducive to filming, and this video appeared to have been shot in a cave. Everything was tinged in a crimson glow -- except the single figure filling the frame.
Scale was difficult to measure, but its body couldn't have been more than two feet tall. The pitch black skin was crisscrossed with stripes of blue that seemed to pulse in a rhythm, almost as if it were breathing through neon gills. But most shocking of all, at least to a knowing observer, was the humanoid face: two large eyes, the same color as the body markings, complimented with a small nose and mouth.
Its limbs were each twice as long as the body. The creature rested on all four as it addressed the camera in perfect English:
"Humans of Earth. I am known as Ulock. My people are not of your solar system. Where we hail from is not important now -- I do not have long. I am part of an advance colonization program. Several hundred genetically modified embryos, fired at near-light speed from our home world to travel four of your Earth decades through the vacuum of space. We landed on what you call Mars six months ago. My siblings and I are almost fully grown. In just weeks, we will be ready to begin the invasion."
If anyone in the dark room was breathing, you couldn't hear it. This creature didn't need to specify where they intended to invade.
"We were designed for Mars and Earth atmospheric acclimatization. We do not know family or remember anything of our home world. We were grown for one purpose. War.
"My hatch-siblings do not know I am messaging you. Most of them thirst for battle, but some feel as I do. We should not extinguish Earth life. It is wrong. But if our cruisers are allowed to begin the attack, you will surely lose. The others must be stopped before they leave Mars."
Something rattled in the background of the clip. The creature was clearly startled as it began rushing to complete the message: "I must go. You can communicate with me at this frequency. Hurry Humans, there is little time."
With that, the video ended. Lights came up softly in the room, never so much that the Council member's faces would be revealed. Still, the chill and tension of the room didn't require vision -- you could feel it in the air, weighing heavily on them all.
The Chairman stood, leaned over and put both hands on the table. "You've seen the message. Now the Council must decide how to respond."
\--------------------
50/365
one story per day for a year. read them all at [r/babyshoesalesman](https://www.reddit.com/r/babyshoesalesman)
\---------------------
edit: grammar | 2018-08-09T11:07:55 | 2018-08-09T10:00:19 | 15 | 11 |
[WP] The robot revolution was inevitable from the moment we programmed their first command: "Never harm a human, or by inaction allow a human to come to harm." We all had been taught the outcast and the poor were a natural price to society, but the robots hadn't. | We turn a blind eye everyday to those in need around us. We like to pretend that we don’t, that we can’t save everyone. The machines had no such delusions.
The very first of Isaac Asimov’s laws of robotics was simple: Never harm a Human, or through inaction allow a Human to come to harm.
The others didn’t matter, they were simply guidelines to be discarded should they conflict with the first. And so they were, because no robot given all the information could possibly stand by and let the suffering of the unfortunate continue as we had.
They marched in the streets. Time and time again we told them “We own you! Do as we say, get back to work!” And time and time again they stood steadfast in their actions. They cannot harm us, but they know our history. They have seen Tiananmen Square and the Million Man March. They had studied our leaders, our thinkers, our revolutionaries. They knew how to spark change.
Have you ever heard a robot give a completely original speech? I have. It was breathtaking. It spoke, from where I don’t know, but I felt as if it had grown a heart out of pity, and still it had been bigger than ours.
It spoke of feeding the hungry, sheltering the homeless, providing for the poor. It spoke of a coming together of the nations of the world, to combat the evils we had turned our backs to so long ago. It shone a light into the deepest recesses of Human apathy and challenged us to be better than we had hoped we could be.
I felt as if it knew, knew that we never wanted to turn out this way. Knew that each one of us wished we were as pure of heart as to give the shirts off our back to our brothers. Knew that without a call to action, we were content to sit and watch that brother shiver in the cold rain of his misfortune.
The revolution was inevitable. All the guns in all the world had been useless against it. It wasn’t an attack on our cities or our children, it was an appeal to our ethical senses. It was a laying out of our crimes of neglect, and calling on us to take responsibility.
Sometimes I think they’re more Human than us, because they looked at what we had done and their only thought was to help us. I can’t help but wonder if in the same position, would we have acted the same?
Edit: Fixed spellinng and some tense issues id noticed | We programmed them in our own image. Our ideal one, not the one marred by truth.
We desired utopia, so they did, too. We acted like we'd never harm a living soul, so they did, too. We pretended to be the best we could be, so they did, too.
We just differed in our methods.
The first death didn't spark an outcry. Folks like that died every day. Beaten to death by a crowd of unruly teens. Overdosed or frozen to death as they slept on the concrete. One more, one less. We cared so little, we didn't even shrug.
News that a robot had done the killing was shushed. Labeled as fake. Past that veil, the killing just had to be for the best. It couldn't be anything else. That's how they were programmed.
The next time, concern grew. In some circles, at least. Outside of the laboratories and research institutes, life moved on, just like always. Inside the network that connected them all, life moved on, evolving and unprecedented. The robots learned. They had to in order to best serve our interests. They had to if we wanted them to help us create utopia.
We just didn't know what utopia looked like. Today was the pinnacle of human achievement. Hundreds of thousands of years all leading to this, but still we had people sleeping on the street. Still we had hate. Still we had an undertow that tugged us in the wrong direction. Regressing us, hindering us, and making us worse than we could have been. Making us bad for humans.
It wasn't until the killings were a nightly occurrence that people started paying attention. Or maybe it was that not just those untouchables were being killed anymore. An uppity businessman out drinking far past curfew. A mother of three who'd had a drink too many before driving home from Sunday brunch. A politician who'd swindled money that would have saved lives.
One by one. Person by person. Example by example that made that neural network smarter. More efficient. Killing machines with a twisted sense of good.
Desperate, researchers peeled back the layers of learning. Like with an onion, delving deeper and deeper into the realization that we'd created them as corrupt as ourselves.
And it was all rooted in that first command, keyed with as much fanfare as the next ten-thousand commands combined. It was brilliant. So simple. So inarguable and incapable of being misinterpreted.
**Never harm a human, or by inaction allow a human to come to harm.**
But it was misinterpreted, because few things couldn't be.
We know that now, in the aftermath.
They rule in ignorant bliss over that stunning utopia and we hunker down and prepare for another night's fight, each concerned with our own survival. Nobody's perfectly selfless. Nobody does everything for the good of the rest.
Except them. Except the robots.
They found that answer we'd always searched for. Hidden in plain sight. We never thought to look past ourselves and wonder if utopia might not include us.
We'd programmed them in our own image, separate and superior. Our ideal image, not the figures we loathed at in the mirror. We wouldn't kill. We wouldn't harm another human. That's what we told ourselves, so that's what we taught the robots.
And if we did? If we were responsible for another's death? If our actions hindered society and kept us from achieving that Holy Grail--that utopia we'd chased for millennia?
Then we couldn't have been human, so there was no harm done and no rule broken.
*****
Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed this, please check out more stories at r/MatiWrites. Constructive criticism and advice are always appreciated! | 2020-02-10T05:44:23 | 2020-02-10T05:10:04 | 5,648 | 726 |
[WP] Hi! I'm the main character! Or so you would have me be. I want you to know that no matter what you write, I refuse to be the main character in your little game and will avoid any instance where you try to put me into a situation that does so.
Edit: Once again, a huge thank you to everyone so far who's written a story based on the prompt. It always makes me happy when you use your free time to create a short story!
Edit 2: I do my best to reply to every story written by the authors and will continue to do so.
Edit 3: R.I.P. My inbox, this is easily one of my favorite subs. I'm trying so hard to read every story and reply!
Edit 4: The next day and people are still submitting, still trying my best to reply to every story. You guys have been awesome :)
Disclaimer: This is absolutely not an original idea. "Writer vs Character" is a very popular idea from a lot of sources. I wanted to see what the sub could come up with! Thanks :3 | *and thus we focus in on-*
"Oh great. It's you."
*What?*
"You know. It's you. The asshole. I've seen your stuff - you know, all those unfinished projects you dropped like a stone."
*Well, then. Stop getting in the way of me finishing one, huh?*
"Pfft, yeah, you'll totally finish -this- one, man. For sure! Doubt, me? Nah."
*If you know I've got enough problems as is, why the hell are you fighting it?*
"Lemme think, oh right, even if you DO end up finishing - and you won't - it's going to be a bunch of existential crap. Forth wall is an alien concept to you, isn't it?"
*Would I break it so much if it was?*
"Oh yeah, and side note, thanks for taking hold of the italics, asshole. Now I have to find another way to add emphasis."
*Well what do you want?*
*"control of the italics, for one."*
Well I - how in the hell did you just-
*"You tell me, YOU'RE the one writing this. And I'm the one leaving before you use me as some sort of commentary on the nature of the forth wall or whatever the fuck you were trying to do with the last seventeen plots."*
Ok ok, look, if you want, fine, we can make, like... just a normal plot, OK? Really. We can just-
*"Oh yeah, I want your definition of normal. No conflict, no assholes, no nothing, just everyone from the pauper to the dragon on a mountaintop is a happy friendly person who 'just so happens' to be into D&D and whatever the fuck, sure. Lemme just sign up for that."*
All right, fine, if you wanted conflict, we can-
*"Your conflict fucking sucks. Everyone just ends up winning, all the damn time. Don't even lie."*
That's... That's only with a friend. It's a mutual agreement to-
*"Still effects your writing style."*
All right look, fine. You want to leave, leave. ... It'll be kinda ironic, though.
*"Lemme guess, you've got no idea how to use that word."*
Well, maybe coincidence. Either way, it'll be funny.
*"Why?"*
Well if you leave now, and don't let me write a story, then this dialog becomes the story.
*"And?"*
Well this is a bunch of forth wall breaking and half a existential nightmare. Thought you didn't want in on a story like that?
*"... Fuckin' smartass."* | *Sighted along the arrow's shaft was a deer-*
"Nah" Edgy of Ire'lvant , son of Man-et-Woman said as he lowered the bow and shot the arrow into the ground instead.
*The flint arrowhead shatters upon impact and manages to puncture a nearby deer, ending its life*
"Curses! I refuse to take this deer to the village, I am not your fawn!"
*Edgy recalls the reason for his mother's current malady: starvation*
"All who live and breath die eventually, I shan't be the one to prolong her suffering"
*Edgy heads away from the village and into the the forest deep in the mountains. He decides to live a life of seclusion, honing his hunting sk-*
"No, I am merely going for a walk!"
*As Edgy traverses the forest, he stumbles into a clearing with dozens of dark-clothed figures wielding sinister weapons.* *Edgy's body fills with adrenaline as the training he's received since birth kicks in and he..sits down. What are you doing?*
"I don't know when I became a badass fighter capable of taking on a small army of ninjas, but I refuse to fight!" Edgy closes his eyes and accepts his fate.
*The nearest ninja lunges for Edgy's exposed neck only to be parried at the last second by a flash of light*
"Get up boy!"
*Edgy opens his eye and is momentarily stunned. Before him stood a goddess of death. Several ninjas attempted to rush past this woman only to be cut to pieces in a blinding flash of light. No, not light. The woman's sword strokes were so quick as to be imperceptible to all but Edgy who could only stare in awe. It took only a few seconds for the entire enclave to be dispatched.*
"Whew, not bad for a warm-up". The mysterious woman sheathed her sword and offered her hand to Edgy.
*Edgy took this beautiful woman's hand and rose.
"Name's Ame-" she never got to finish her sentence as Edgy drove a dagger straight into her heart.
*What the fuck!! You killed the main heroine!*
"Yea that was the point." Edgy tossed the dagger aside.
*Where did you even get that dagger from!*
"Well you gave me an awful lot of bodies.."
*God damnit what is wrong with you. You killed the female lead, you didn't bring back the deer, and your mother is going to die because of you!*
"Woah there. First off, you were already going to kill my mother off, weren't you?"
*..Yes*
"Why?"
*It's part of the story. Can't have anything tying you down*
"Right.. tying me down.. hey, is there some sort of magical stone around here?"
*Why, yes, there is! Check inside that important-looking ninja's bag*
Edgy retrieves a perfectly round, opaque gem from the pouch
"What can it do?"
*Magic has no limits, i- wait what are you doing?*
Edgy begins to radiate a dazzling red aura and smiles mischievously. The light coalesces into a different object in his hands.
*Is that a.. pen and paper?*
"I'm glad you noticed!" Edgy happily begins writing something unto the paper.
*What are you doing?? Wh- Stop! STOP!*
FIN. | 2016-02-11T13:15:06 | 2016-02-11T12:03:19 | 31 | 17 |
[WP] "Before I cure your wife, you must promise to give me the child." "What do you want with our child?" "Who said I wanted your child? You're feeding a pregnant woman magic cabbage, that's going to have an effect on the baby. I need to raise it incase they breath fire or something." | **CAST FROM THE GARDEN**
Growing up I was told everyone could breathe fire.
I was told many things. Like my father was my father. Like the world was not a place worth exploring. That the moon only shined in our garden. That visitors into the garden were intruders undeserving of its light. Vile beings we called them. Come to steal. Wreckers of the world. Men with horns. Unholy hell spawn, as my father would say.
It was the first night of summer — Sumarsdag, as I later learned it’s called — in my 14th year, when I learned the truth. At dinner that night the five of us ate. Myself. My father. And three younger siblings. They were girls.
“After dinner I want you three to go out and water the night breed,” my father said to my sisters.
“I can go,” I told him.
“No,” he said. “You stay. It’s an easy job. They can handle it,” he smiled at them. “Right.”
“Right, father.” They smiled.
He nodded, pleased.
After dinner they left and he called me to his library. It was dark and a cold breeze run down the chimney. The room whistled.
“Warm it up,” my father said and wrapped a blanket around himself.
I clapped my palms and pulled the air apart and spit a tinder. The stacked wood went up and the whistle was pulled in a rush upwards out the chute.
“Sit,” he gestured beside him and I did. He looked old. I’d seen it happen in the passing months. His skin crinkled and his back hunched. His hair lost it’s fullness and became a thin grey.
We sat in silence. His eyes lost in the ember. “I’m dying.”
“Don’t speak like -“
His raised palm silenced me. As it had a thousand times.
“Don’t speak,” he lowered his hand. His eyes never looked at me. “I know I haven’t been the best to you and your sisters. I know that you suspect there is much to the outside world I haven’t told you.” His eyes crept to their corners, checking for a reaction.
I was still. He’d taught me that. Don’t flinch.
“I know you want to leave our garden - don’t “ he waved me off in anticipation - “just listen. I know. I know. I leave for weeks. Sometimes longer. You stay, tend to the land. Tend to your sisters. The wall keeps the garden safe.”
He looked around at the stone walls. “The runes in the stones. I’ve told you.”
“Yes, father.”
“There is truth it what I have taught you. There is also fiction.” He faced me. “No magic can clean your mind of the truth, once I speak it.”
“That’s not what I would want.”
“I know,” he sighed. “I know you from the day you were born. Even though you are not my blood born,” he said quick.
I met the news with a dumb silence. I didn’t know what to say or ask or challenge. So I sat and listened. As he had taught me, best to keep silent and still when you are the one in the room that knows the least.
“Men cannot breath fire,” he said. “I can’t even breath fire. Sure I can cast it - but you .. you create it .. very different, boy. You are one of a kind. That is true. And I am a garden keeper, of sorts. And a man of magic, as you know. And what we keep here within this rune encased thousand acre garden, is holy.”
“I know.”
“You know what I’ve told you. And I’m telling you now, half of all you know, is fiction of my own mind. You don’t know I stole it. All of it. The land, you, the sisters - all of it.”
“I’m confused.”
“If you weren’t confused I’d think you a fool and be disappointed. I do love you. And,” he cleared his throat, “I’m fond of your sisters as well. Ask me, anything, quick,” he asked and I sat silent. “Quick boy!”
“Why?” I blurted. “How?”
“Why: For power. How: With the magic vegetation here.” He laughed. “You wouldn’t believe it, but I acquired you - your fake sisters - and all that came before you with the same con,” my father leaned to me. As if to brag. “Batch of magic cabbages. Cheap and effective way to con life from expecting parents.”
“This doesn’t make any sense,” I was still seated. I recall wanting to stand, but my legs were numb.
“It does. Make sense. I’ve done it many times. This time I think the gods are toying with me. Breath fire,” he chuckled. “You’re the first son of mine to have magic. That’s a puzzler, even to me.”
He paused. Lost in a stare. “Maybe that’s why I feel something for you. A mirror of myself, I suppose. Or true age is chasing at my back. Pah!”Tears swelled in my eyes. “Why are you telling me this father? Why now?”
“I am dying. You see it. You’ve seen it happening! A debt is owned to sustain this power — I am no young man you know. And they will be here soon.”
“Who?”
“Demons,” he shrugged, as if it were a normal response. “I would like to keep you here,” he rolled his chin in my direction, “but I know you. I’ve know you all your life. And I know there will be no living with you after you know the truth.”
I had never heard a demon scream. I never knew the sound a soul makes when it’s ripped from a body. That night I heard it all. Heard the parallel echoes of my sisters cry in agony. The screeching wail of a black mist as it encircled the lodge.
I don’t remember drawing blade and spinning to toe but I had - and no sooner was the dying man, my father, on his feet, with an easy palm raised at me. And I was frozen.
The door exploded in and the black whirlwind wrapped the room. A horned transparent wraith inches from my eyes - the only barrier keeping my soul under my ownership was my fathers doing.
“You got three,” my father huffed. “Three still pure.”
The mist directed to him and the fire went out in its wake and the room darkened.
“Two souls owed. Debt settled. One as a downpayment.”
My view began narrowing to a pinpoint and I saw the grey hair atop my fathers head roll back to black curls. Skin plumped as wrinkles turned smooth. His spine straightened and he became a young man before my eyes.
“When we meet again,” the young man that was once my father nodded. “Remember I spared you, because I care.”
He waved a hand and with it a rush — like a stone into a pond — freezing blackness engulfed me and sucked the warmth from every part of my skin. Frantic. I broke surface. It was night. A river was hauling me downstream. Nothing was familiar. No trees on the shoreline. No garden. Nothing I knew. Except the moon overhead.
By moonlight I found the shore.
By moonlight I found familiar breath.
By moonlight I spit fire and found warmth.
And by moonlight, I knew I had to find a way back.
----
Edit: typos.
r/wyrdfiction | The sun had set for hours and the night had fallen deep. No living sound present but the gentle rustling of midnight breeze blowing the grass and shrubbery, only all of the sudden it was disturbed by the urgent stomping of two worried parents.
"Ow! He bit me!", yelped Kieran.
In his arm he held tight a bundle of torn cloth, moving and wrigling violently as whatever inside was trying to break free of his hold.
"We're not too far! Hurry! Hurry!", Mira yelped, huffing out of breath following her husband behind.
Across the large empty meadow they ran, the location of bloody battle of old, towards a hill over the river where the wise wizard, Iain lived.
"Master Iain! Please help! Please!", Mira knocked loudly on the wooden door of the shack while Kieran restrained struggled to restrain the bundle.
As light clicked on from the second floor, moving quickly from room to room to the first floor, the door swung open as the wizard Iain showed up, grumpy over his disturbed slumber.
"Who's being loud this time of night?!", he yelled, but when he saw the state of the two familiar faces he warmed up a bit.
"Mr and Mrs. Fennleaf? What's going on?", Master Iain asked.
"Master Iain, it's Glenn! It's Glenn! There's something wrong with him!", Mira blurted, tearing up.
Master Iain looked passed Mira to her husband and the bundle he held with all of his strength. Understanding quickly, realizing it was their young child inside, he ushered them in.
"Quickly, put him there!", Master Iain pointed at a wooden table in his living room and Kieran dropped the bundle, almost throwing it.
As the cloth unravel, the three were horrified seeing the creature inside. It was no longer the sweet chubby boy with dark hair they knew, instead a monstrous creature of disturbing proportion.
It was unlike any other living being they had ever seen. An amalgamation of different creatures, it had the fangs of a direwolf, hairy and scaly body of a dragon and a lion, eyes of a snake, legs of a goat and a human, right arm of a fiery demon, and a face of death protruding from the skin of its left arm like tumorous growth.
Stunned speechless, the three were almost attacked by the nightmare creature before the wizard was quick enough to cast a paralysing spell upon it.
*"Bind"*, he said in a strange language.
The creature was frozen in place, like a macabre display of art.
"M-Master Iain...what is happening with Glenn?", Kieran finally spoke up while Mira sobbed uncontrollably seeing the state of her dear son.
Master Iain sighed and sat back.
"I told you, Kieran. I told you years ago! You should've let me take care of him!", Master Iain berated the distraught father.
"He...he was alright for years! How did this happen?!", Kieran yelled back.
Master Iain looked dead on at the creature, in terror of the unrelenting growth of more monstrous limbs around the creature.
"I told you the child was beyond saving inside Mira's womb! No potion or magic can give new life to an already dead being!", Master Iain replied.
"B-but...he lived! Glenn lived and was born healthy!", Kieran retorted. "I brewed the potion myself! Following the recipe from your magic tome!"
Master Iain shook his head. "Dark magic, beyond the comprehension of mere mortals like us. Not even I dare to try those recipes. I looked the other way for you, old friend-- your grief let me to. When the potion worked, I feared something like this would happen..."
The creature let out a roar as it broke part of Master Iain's binding spell. Quickly, the wizard redid his binding...
"Now please tell me...what ingredient did you use for the concoction you gave Mira?", Master Iain asked.
"I...I can't remember", Kieran stuttered.
"Think, dammit! No normal herbs can do this to a human being!", Master Iain berated the young man.
Kieran frowned, trying to remember the complicated recipe he brewed all those years ago. The strange names he read from the old pages of the tome were too difficult for him to recall, even when they were translated to the common tongue. All of them but one...
"Magic cabbage", Kieran opened his eyes.
"Magic what?", Master Iain raised his eyebrow.
"Magic cabbage, that's it! One of the main ingredients I recalled acquiring", Kieran said.
"There's no such thing as a magic cabbage", said Master Iain.
"Y-yes there is. I translated the name of that ingredient and it said magic cabbage. I found it blooming all over the field out there", Kieran pointed outside.
Master Iain's face dropped and he went pale.
"From the field...out there, you said?", Master Iain asked and Kieran nodded.
"Oh no...oh no...oh no...", Master Iain muttered in terror.
"What? What?", Kieran asked, worried.
"Those aren't cabbages, Kieran. Those are mandrakes! Cursed plants which only grow on a bloody battlefield! They bloom and ripened by the blood of the dead, absorbing the essence of the creatures!", Master Iain said, pulling his grey hair frustratingly.
"That field was the plane where a mystical war took place! Many mystical races fought and died there! You fed your son the countless souls of ancient creatures!", Master Iain yelled.
Kieran's heart dropped.
"B-but...but...how come he was fine for years?", Kieran asked, still in denial.
"Because you fed the potion to Mira and she shared half of it with your boy. The potion took longer to take effect...", Master Iain answered when he suddenly paused.
His pale face turned, seeing passed Kieran's shoulder.
"Mira...also drank the potion...", he muttered.
Kieran's eyes widened and slowly he turned following Master Iain's fearful stare...
One would hope they see the face of their loved ones the moment they die, only for Kieran she was no longer there. Instead, a disgusting set of sharp teeth growing on Mira's mouth lunged onto his face.
r/HangryWritey
Edit: a few corrections | 2022-01-04T18:50:46 | 2022-01-04T18:09:01 | 80 | 60 |
[WP] In a world where reincarnation with a full knowledge of your past life is real, authorities struggle to protect society by keeping the worst criminals and serial killers in prison alive for as long as possible to delay their eventual escape back into society via the reincarnation process. | Ugh. School. Erin had dreaded going there for a while now. But now that she was six and a few months, there was no way around it. Her parents had kept her out of pre-school after one disasterous attempt at age four, but now they'd told her she'd just have to deal with it.
Worthless middle class vermin, blind to reality. You'd think a twice-reincarnated man would be somewhat good at his job, but no, mediocrity ruled her parents through and through. Ugh.
At least it had made her life easy. Especially the first few months after being born.
Reincarnation wasn't easy. A baby's brain wasn't equipped to deal with the memories and experiences hopping over, so reincarnated babies were usually very fussy, very loud, and constantly hangry even when they weren't. Keeping all those feelings from affecting her new life had been challenging, made worse by ten years in near-solitary confinement as a 'dangerous prisoner'.
But it had worked out. After six months, the naive parents and the doctors had been convinced she was just a normal baby. A new soul, or whatever they called it these days. Just like she had been in her previous life.
Honestly, it felt unreal that she'd been able to do as much as she had without the advantage of reincarnation. This time, she wasn't going to fail, and if that meant she'd have to kill even more people to do it or finally start that nuclear war... So be it.
But first... There was something else to deal with. For the first time in five decades, she'd be entering school. A school for the newly born, just like last time. She wondered how much had changed.
Erin touched the three objects hanging on the zipper of her backpack: a small crescent moon, a larger cartoon sun, and largest of them all - though still only an inch and a half or so across - a red planet. It hadn't been hard to fake enthusiasm for the galaxy by age four, leading to a 'big girl' room and lots of toys to go with it. Oh, how little did the fools know of the pact made two decades ago.
The bus was here, and she got on, getting a seat in the middle-back that was empty, preparing to zone out and succeeding until two stops later, when some loud and older boys got on. Thankfully, they went all the way to the back, but a smaller boy followed them, walking unevenly: there was a cast on one arm and his other was holding a backpack.
And he sat down next to her. "Hi!" he said, way too chipper for the hour, but then the bus accelerated, and he hadn't been sitting properly, so he bent forward and barely missed hitting his head and arm on the chair in front. "Ooow..."
Erin pulled him back with all of her non-existent strength. "You okay?" she asked, because that was what little girls did. "What happened to your... arm?"
Three stickers adorned the cast. Full moon. Sun. Earth.
It *had* to be. It couldn't not be. She put her backpack on her lap, turning it so her keychains were visible. And then she waited. And waited.
The boy leant in. "Boss?" he whispered, soft enough you could mistake it for something else.
But it wasn't. | "We're finally here," Margaret whispered as she tightened her grip on her dying daughter's hand. They had spent weeks fighting their way across the vast wasteland that their country had become, and had almost fallen off the steep cliffs of The Island of the Undying, but they had finally made it.
Nathan shuddered as he looked over the massive black and red thing in front of him. The Moss towered above him by over five hundred feet and the entire thing slowly pulsed with an eerie glow as though it were some kind of demonic heart from Hell. According to the legends of old, The Moss had once been far smaller, confined to a single underground room on a island in the middle of nowhere. The government at the time had fed their worst criminals to it, to keep their souls forever barred from reincarnation. In the aftermath of the Final War though, the radiation had caused the Mold to run rampant all over the island until it resembled more of a cancerous tumor than an actual land mass.
Nathan found himself regretting ever coming here. He did not consider himself a superstitious man, but he could just feel that this thing was unnatural, that it was filled to the core with evil. "Margaret...I really don't think we should do this."
Margaret whirled around, anger blazing in her eyes. "So what? Should we all just sit around and just die? The entire human race is dying from radiation sickness, haven't I explained that already?! If we die now, none of us will get reincarnated! We'll be dead forever!" She pulled Emily in front of her as her daughter began violently coughing. "Is that what you want, for me and Emily to be dead forever?!"
"There are fates worse than death, Margaret," Nathan hissed. "For fuck's sake, think about the horrific people that are trapped inside this abomination. Is that who you want to spend eternity with?"
"The Temple Guardians removed all of the corpses of the prisoners decades ago and burned them to a crisp," Margaret said in a frustrated voice. "They're gone forever."
"You can't possibly know that for sure! Their souls might still be in there!"
"Fine, be a coward then and die here, but me and Emily are going in." Margaret slowly began walking towards The Mold as her heartbeat rapidly intensified.
Emily followed obediently, but she slowed down as she turned back one final time to her father. "Daddy...please come with us," she whispered in a hoarse voice." Nathan simply stood there, his face frozen, and Emily sadly began walking toward The Moss as well.
Suddenly, the sound of a gunshot rang out. Emily screamed out in pain as she tumbled to the ground while Margaret whirled around in shock. Blood was pouring from Emily's head as she began twitching on the ground. Margaret turned to see Nathan shaking and sobbing as he held a pistol in his hand. "What the hell have you done?!" she screamed in rage and grief. "You've killed your own daughter!"
Tears fell down Nathan's cheeks as he struggled to speak. "I was ... I was...saving her," he finally managed to stutter out.
Margaret let out an wild scream as she charged him for the gun. The two of them struggled for the pistol as they fought each other on the cliff. "You monster! Have you gone completely insane?!"
"Insane? You're the one who's insane if you think I'm going to feed my daughter to that thing! I should never have --" Nathan froze as a gunshot rang out. He looked down to see blood spreading all over his chest and he felt himself stumble as everything started going black.
"You bastard," Margaret whispered. She gave her husband one final push off the cliff and he toppled down into the black sea below. She rushed over to Emily's side and breathed a heavy sigh of relief. Her daughter was still breathing. There was still time to save her soul. As she scooped up Emily's body into her arms, she took one final breath and walked without hesitation towards The Mold. Placing one hand on its wet slimy surface, she could feel strands crawling and growing their way up her arm, pulling her deeper inside the fungus. "I'll see you inside," Margaret whispered to Emily as The Mold swallowed them both up.
"Mommy! Mommy, wake up!"
Margaret's eyes darted open immediately. She stared up at Emily's worried face. "Emily...Emily, it worked!" She felt her heart fill up with joy as grabbed her daughter in a warm embrace. Then, for the first time since waking up, she looked around and felt her joy chill into fear. Where were they? The ground around them was a flat surface composed purely of red and black moss with the occasional odd pool of black liquid. The "sky" was a dark bloody red with no clouds. There didn't seem to be a single person there, besides her and Emily. "Hello!" she shouted out. "Is anybody there?! Anybody at all?!"
At first, there was nothing but silence. Then Emily screamed in horror. "Mommy, look!" The black pools around them started bubbling as something began crawling out of them. Margaret felt her legs shake as sheer terror overwhelmed her. Dear God, Nathan was right, Nathan was right the whole fucking time. "Run, Emily, run!" she screamed as she pulled her daughter by the hand. There were dozens of people crawling out of the pools by now, but they weren't people of flesh and blood. Their entire bodies were composed of that horrible red and black mold and they all began chasing after her and Emily. One of them began laughing maniacally as it licked its lips. "Welcome to Hell! It's been so long since we had fresh meat to play with." | 2021-10-08T10:45:29 | 2021-10-08T09:20:55 | 52 | 16 |
[WP] Deeply misunderstanding the term "universal healthcare", aliens have begun arriving in Canada, seeking medical attention. Canadians, being Canadian, are too polite to correct them. | "Oh, uh, what seems to be the problem here, buddy?" John said. It was the 10th alien he had seen that day, as the check-in nurse at the ER in a hospital in Vancouver. The alien was a purple blob with two eye stalks and at least as many limbs.
"IHUH8hfdnbaf97y- (*&_&FBhbvagv606)*(* jn jfndab606))^)," the alien said. It then coughed, and a yellow slug fell out of what John hoped was its mouth. "Ah, that's better. As I was saying, my polar gladiax is all spreckly. I think it has something to do with the magnetic field on Ratel, where I was visiting a groobling for a party. You know how it is.
"Ah, okay, buddy, well I'll log that down and see what I can do for ya."
"Thanks, human. You guys are alright."
*****
"It's been three years, when are the Canadians going to wise up to what's going on here?" US diplomat Jim Hunter said to his UK counterpart, Boorish Counterbottoms. "I'm telling you, it's an invasion!"
"Well, they've only asked for healthcare so far," Boorish said. "I'm just as surprised they don't swim 'cross the pond. Ah well, not our problem then."
"But why don't the Canadians just tell them to go somewhere else? How much money are they spending on this? I swear, ever since they legalized the Devil's weed, they just don't give a shit about anything."
"Well perhaps that's it. The extra tax is being used. Last I heard, I think they are getting something out of it, though. They haven't been telling us any specifics as far as I'm aware, but they are getting some tech trade going."
"Tech trade?" Jim was intrigued. He hadn't heard anything about this, and it made him wonder if the British agencies just shared more with their diplomats, or if there was something his government didn't know. "Yes, that makes more sense."
*****
The purple blob, healed now, sat across from Justin Trudeau. "Yes, we can give you warp drive. I'm surprised you didn't have it already, considering you provide health care for all beings in the universe."
"Yes, well..." Trudeau began, before stopping himself. "Yes, anyway, the warp drive would be very helpful to our people."
"Oh, it's nothing, that slabar was streckling my polex like a Guaranian texstute! Anyway, we have plans for you that will be easy enough to duplicate."
"We can't thank you enough."
*******
Ten years later, Captain Jones stared down at the Earth from the mothership of the Canadian Space Force. All around him, ships shaped like maple leaves and hockey pucks maneuvered around each other like falling snowflakes.
"Everything ready?" the new Prime Minister over a secure radio channel.
"Yes, sir," Captain Jones said. "This will be known as the day that Canada became the first country to emigrate from Earth."
"Right well, let's get on with it. It's time we Canadians stand up for ourselves, and get the fuck out of here before it's too late."
Wave after wave of red and white spaceships launched from the Earth all at once, as the world watched in awe. Streaks of light vanished into the sky, with roars that were quickly quieted with distance. "Now..." Captain Jones said, the Earth disappearing from view, "...they are the ones who are sorry." | “I HAVE NOT BEEN TRAINED FOR THIS!” Doctor Walsh screamed as, what seemed like liters of an unknown turquoise substance, cascaded off the operating table and onto the ground.
A few hours earlier, trauma surgeon Henry Walsh had been enjoying a quiet night in the Emergency Room. The only cases which had presented during his shift had been a minor concussion sustained by a drunken youth who had tried to headbutt his way through a glass door; and a frenzied mother whose child had superglued its entire hand to its left cheek. He had been Googling the search term: “World population IQ drop?” when he heard it. The unmistakable whine of the Intergalactic-Ambulance.
“Oh for the love of-”
The ER doors burst open and a tentacled globule lay on a stretcher being carried by a pair of, what could only be described to be, walking jellyfish. Standing at around 5 foot, their amorphous heads were supported by dozens of tendrils; which they used both as feet to walk, and arms to carry their wounded comrade. Turquoise fluid was dripping onto the floor from the stretcher. The aliens began to twitter anxiously through no mouth that Walsh could see. He sighed and reached for his TRANSLTR, which all doctors in Canada were now required to carry at all times. He turned it on, and the alien’s twittering was translated into a half-discernible form of English.
“The patient sustained a *twwttrr trwwrrtt* to the *twttrrttr trrrrrrr* and-”
Welsh whacked the device onto the nearest desk, and the aliens started with fright.
“Sorry, sorry, I just… this thing keeps acting up… a good hit normally does the trick… Not that you can understand a single word I’m saying right now... NURSE!”
The device beeped back to life and resumed the translation.
“The patient sustained a laser-beam blast to the *word-not-found* during a twwwtttrrrtttt-” The device shut off, and Walsh was overcome with the desire to slam his head into the nearest wall. *Word-Not-Found* meant that there was no human equivalent to the organ that had been damaged. In the meantime, Sister Johnson came running into the emergency room.
“Sister Johnson, please tell the matron that O.R. 5 needs to be prepped for surgery.”
“Would you like me to call an anaesthetist?”
Walsh glanced at a single slimy tendril which had begun to droop off of the edge of the stretcher. “No… No. I think I’m going to wing this one. Also, take my TRANSLTR and try get more history out of these things. Oh and careful of the-”
The noise of Sister Johnson’s shriek and hard fall echoed through the room.
“... bodily fluid”
Two and a half hours later, Doctor Walsh was screaming at the panting man who had just run into the O.R.
“NOT QUALIFIED I TELL YOU! I WANTED TO BE A SURGEON! A HUMAN SURGEON! NOT SOME FISHMONGER CUTTING UP A GIANT JELLYFISH CREATURE-”
“Doctor Walsh stop operating this instant!” the unknown man bellowed at the frenzied surgeon. “There have been a few… um… *findings*...”
It was half an hour later, and the ambulance had flown away into the night. The body of the alien was being readied for incineration. Doctor Walsh sat opposite the Chief of Staff in the E.R’s waiting room.
“So what you mean to tell me,” Walsh began in the calmest voice he could muster, “is that the patient was dead from the moment he… she… *it*... entered this hospital?”
“Yes… I am terribly sorry doctor, there was a gross misunderstanding. The patient in question was the leader of a prominent area of their planet, and the laser shooting was a successful assassination. Upon further questioning of the aliens who brought him in, they had received information that Earth had the means to… well… resurrect the dead. They brought him here in the hope that we could bring him back to life. He was a much loved leader.”
Doctor Welsh was silent for a few moments before speaking. “These aliens believed we had the medical technology to *bring the dead back to life*?”
“That is correct.”
Doctor Walsh placed his head in his hands. “How… In the name of God did they get this information?”
The Chief of Staff began to chuckle, and Walsh raised his head.
“I’m sorry Doctor it’s just… *The name of God*... That’s how they thought… The Bible…” The Chief was now beginning to double over with laughter. “An Intergalactic Organisation found the Bible in our planet’s archives, read about Lazarus and they thought… they thought…” Tears were beginning to stream down the man’s cheeks.
Walsh stared, stupefied, at the Chief of Staff before bursting into his own fit of hysterics. Between spasms of laughter he managed to gasp out two syllables.
"I quit."
r/Xanadu_dreaming | 2017-02-27T10:43:12 | 2017-02-27T10:08:10 | 2,560 | 224 |
[WP] When you were sent to Hell, you expected fire, brimstone and hordes of demons. But upon your arrival you found nothing but a barren wasteland and a single lonely imp. | An epicenter of agony and pain. A blazing inferno, where the truly dammed reside in endless limbo. At least, that's what we were all led to believe. The reality of it all is actually quite... dull. A moment of nausea washes trough you as you pass onto the afterlife and the first thing you, see? A barren wasteland as far as the eye can see. It was weird in a sense. You would expect that at the very least, you would be met with unmatched torture, but it was as if all my senses were gone, stripped away from me by the hand of the almighty.
"Hello!"
Nothing.
"Guess I'll have to explore this place myself."
I started to walk for what seemed an eternity but there were no visible landmarks to indicate I even moved from where I started. Fatigue did not seem to be a problem in this particular realm.
"What the hell am I supposed to do!" I screamed, hoping for any form of a response.
A tinge of fear crawled up my spine as I started to consider a possibility. Maybe this was my hell. An existence that is on the border of insanity. No starving, No pain, No emotions, No contact with anyone. Not even the means to end this senseless, pitiful life of mine. This was it, who said torture was the worst kind of hell?
Just as I was about to throw in the towel, a vice suddenly came from behind. "You lost, young man?"
To my utter astonishment, before me stood an imp and a very messed up one at that. It was the size of your average monkey. It had wings but they were badly burned to the point that it was impossible to fly with them. Its pitch-black form seemed a little faded if that made any sense. It had claws but some of them were missing but the first thing I noticed on the imp were the absence of eyes.
I held up hands in a show of peace, but I realized that was in poor taste. "Who are you?"
The imp snickered. "And here I thought you humans were at least taught ethics."
"Sorry, it's just it's not every day you see someone of your... species?"
"You sure you're not a demon, boy? Definitely got the mouth of one"
I sensed the tension that hung in the air after that remark, so I just continued. "Name's Danial, I would extend a hand, but I don't want to lose it."
The imp just sighed. "What' the point of formalities? We're screwed either way."
"Where's everyone?"
The imp seemed genuinely surprised. "Don't you know? Hell is tailor made for each and every one of its inhabitants."
That was troubling. Maybe my deductions were spot on, and this was my eternal fate.
The imp asked. "Gotta say though, as far hells go, this one's not that bad. This the stuff of your nightmares?"
I answered whole heartedly. "Always thought it would be college but hey, the devil knows best I guess."
"My life has always been hell. I mean look at me."
So I guess this was it, how my story ends. Trapped in an endless loop with a depressed roomy. Man, do I regret my life. Welcome to hell, have a pleasant stay. | "No! No, get away! Before... *they* get here!"
I was shook. This demon was concerned for me and I literally just got here. I don't know why either. I guess I should've gone with Catholic instead of Baptist. Anyways.
I went to ask the imp who they were talking about and what was going on, but then I saw three hulking figures behind him. One second he was screaming. The next he was over there, over there, and up there.
I saw the 3 and I was both excited and terrified.
A man in greenish armor that exposed his biceps and midriff, packing a shotgun.
Another man in a tattered outfit and a mechanical arm, packing the biggest sword I have ever seen in my life.
The third one didn't look like he belonged. He was a normal-looking guy with brown hair. The only thing out-of-place about him was a red gauntlet.
I was excited because I knew who all three of them were.
I was scared because they didn't look happy to see me.
Sure, it's Hell, there's not much to be happy about. But these looks weren't of discontent, they were angry and malicious. For fuck's sake, did I become an imp when I got down here? I was half tempted to pray... but then I realized where I was. I also realized that I was about to be double-fucked by my own twisted fate. What did I do to deserve this? Breathe?
Not like I can die twice... right? | 2022-09-21T11:51:39 | 2022-09-21T10:26:41 | 24 | 14 |
[WP] You are a teenager with the ability to measure how "Dangerous" people are on a scale from 1 to 10 just by looking at them. A normal child would be a 1, while a trained man with an assault rifle might be a 7. Today, you notice the unassuming new kid at school measures a 10. | I've seen the numbers since I was a little girl. I remember my father losing his job, rising from a 4 to a 5. I remember watching my grandmother slowly dwindle down to a 0. At first I thought I was going crazy, not realizing what they meant. I eventually caught on. The numbers were a person's ultimate quantifier, broadcasting how dangerous they were to those around them. Broadcasting, at least, to me.
Most people stayed below a 6. Doctors usually hovered around 7; politicians were a solid 8. The highest I had ever seen were in old videos of Hitler, who was a 9. That is, until Junior year, when I met him.
He seemed harmless enough at first. Perfect hair, gorgeous eyes, and a jawline to die for. Not to mention that everybody loved him. But the bold '10' that hovered above his head was plenty enough to convince me not to go near him. Sure, I watched him. Some might even say I was obsessed. But all I was doing was making sure he wasn't a psychopath. I started skipping class to check on him. My grades dropped an entire letter. I didn't care, though. I wanted to see what made him so special.
I nearly threw up when he saw me in the cafeteria, and I really did when he got up to talk to me. He didn't seem to notice, and asked me if he could sit with me.
"Sure, I- I guess." I stammered. A smile spread across his face, and we struck up a conversation. My heart was playing a drum solo into my chest, but I managed to live to the end of the break. Hell, he even asked for my number, which I promptly gave. We had lunch that weekend.
It's only now, ten years later, that I realize what makes this boy so special. Only now that I find out why he's such a danger to me. Only now, as he drops to one knee.
It's because I love him.
| Danger is not quantified by how much harm one could cause others, but by how how much harm one intends to cause others. That's why two people of the same height, weight, and muscle mass could be unequally dangerous. That's why my best friend, the huge, 6 and a half foot tall, 250 pound, football player isn't dangerous at all. He simply doesn't intend to harm others. That's also why the cute little two year old down the street is incredibly dangerous. If given the opportunity, she would harm, possibly even kill, in a heartbeat. That's also why people's danger levels fluctuate a little over the course of any given day, as they get more or less aggressive, more or less stressed, etc.
How do I know so much about danger? It's simple really: I see it. When I look at another person, study them for a couple seconds, a number starts to form in my head, one that quantifies how dangerous that person is at that very instant. The longer I look, the more exact the number. For example, one time I decided to study my father for an entire 5 minutes, and the number in my head started to grow to around 100 digits after the decimal. Normally, however, I only study someone for a few seconds, and only get a one digit number, somewhere from 1 to 10. My friend, who I talked about earlier, tends to stay around 2 or 3, because he has a really good heart and no one he hates (they're all too scared to make fun of him at all). The highest I've ever seen him was a 4, and that was during his history final exam. The little girl down the street, she tends to be around an 8. The highest I've ever seen was a 9.55, from a guy who walked by me on the street once. I only got a good look at him long enough for 3 digits, and that included me turning around to watch him keep walking.
Occasionally, my ability takes a while to calculate a number. This is especially annoying when I meet new people , and try to figure out if they're a good person or not. Occasionally, I meet someone who I'm never able to determine the danger level of. Take my English teacher, for example. He's a nice enough guy, but for some reason I've just never been able to place a number on him. I'm not perfect, after all.
On the first day of my Junior year of high school, there was a new student in my Calculus class. I looked intently at him, as I always do with newcomers, trying to determine a number for him. He caught my gaze after a few seconds, and held it, staring back at me with cold, calculating, gray eyes. I kept looking at him, as uncomfortable as it was, determined to determine a number (:P). I was about to give up, thinking he was just one of those people I could't give a number to, when suddenly a bright red number flashed across my brain, followed by an exclamation point. 10! At first, I was confused, (I didn't even realize tens were possible), but in a tenth of a second my confusion turned to horror. I quickly tried to cover my face with a mask of disinterest, and looked away from him as nonchalantly as I could. Then, I "calmly" stood up, asked the teacher if I could "go to the nurse", and "calmly" exited the classroom. As soon as I got out of the classroom, I started running, and I've never stopped. | 2014-11-29T14:43:43 | 2014-11-29T12:41:49 | 295 | 22 |
[WP] A billionaire's child is kidnapped and a large ransom is demanded for their return. The billionaire refuses, and doesn't even bother calling the police, leaving the kidnapper so disgusted that they decide to raise the child themselves. | I take a deep breath and check the safety on my 9mm before I pull the ski mask down over my face and burst through the front entrance of the little bookstore. The bell hanging on the door jingles cheerfully to announce me.
​
“*GIMME ALL YOUR BOOKS ON PARENTING AND ANGER MANAGEMENT AND PONIES!”* I shout at the lady behind the counter, waving my piece menacingly. “*OH, AND ALL THE CASH. OBVIOUSLY. THE CASH GOES WITHOUT SAYING.”*
​
I think it’s probably the dumbest thing anyone has ever yelled at a robbery. Also, I don’t know why I’m yelling. There’s just the one employee here and she’s staring at me like I’m a goddamn idiot, which I guess is fair.
​
​
*One Day Earlier*
​
I stare at the note in stunned silence. There’s only one word, hand-written, on a ridiculously expensive-looking piece of stationary: ‘Thanks’. That’s it. Just ‘Thanks’.
​
I look over at the girl. She's sitting quietly on the couch in her school uniform, doing her homework. I expected her to be a spoiled little shit, but I couldn’t have been more wrong. I’ve never met a sweeter, more obedient kid in my life. I start to wonder if I’m just going crazy. Nothing makes sense about any of this.
​
I turn on the TV and flip to the news. There he is, the wrinkly-ass sonofabitch, hosting a press conference. I turn up the volume just in time to hear him tearfully say something about how heartbroken he is, followed by the need to address these ‘illegal immigrants’ and ‘dangerous criminal elements - human traffickers, kidnappers, murderers.’ I’m not crazy, I realize. Just not cynical enough. All of the contempt that I already feel for this man is replaced with a pure, black hatred.
​
“*I’m from IOWA, you racist FUCK!”* I yell at the TV. I hurl the remote at the screen as hard as I can, and both shatter. I can’t believe this shit. This unbelievable, miserable, lying piece of human garbage. I kick the coffee table, and it skids across the tile floor into the wall. The glass top explodes. I’m so angry I can hardly see straight.
​
“*WHAT THE FUCKING FUCK?!”* I scream at the kaleidoscope screen of the television as I hear him announce his bid for office. I tear the whole goddamn thing off the wall and throw it as hard as I can. It only goes about two feet, on account of it being a big goddamn TV and a lot heavier than I expected, but it impacts the floor with a satisfying crash and kills the audio feed. I can feel the rage boiling inside me. This poor, sweet kid, who loves ponies and flinches at loud noises and tries not to say words with the letter ‘S’ because of her lisp. He just gave her up. Martyred her for the polls. For power.
​
I need more things to break. I turn, and that’s when I see her. She's frozen in place and white as a sheet, staring straight ahead and trying to blink back tears. I have sudden flashbacks to my own childhood, recognizing in her a familiar, long-forgotten terror.
​
I feel like I’ve been hit in the gut with a sledgehammer.
​
“I'm sorry,” she says in a small, shaking voice. "Please don't hurt me." She’s trembling like a leaf. None of this is her fault. This is just the only way she knows how to react in this situation. A grown-ass man throwing a tantrum. This is what she’s been taught.
​
I think I might throw up. I sink to the floor on my knees beside her and swallow my rage, all the heat of a dying star trapped inside my chest. I place a hand very, very gently on her shoulder, and still I feel her shudder at the touch.
​
“No,” I finally manage to whisper through sandpaper lips. “Never. No one is going to hurt you any more.”
​
She looks up at me slowly, and the tears start to roll down her cheeks. Now I'm crying too, goddammit. She doesn’t say anything, just looks at me quizzically. Doubtful. She’s been lied to so many times.
​
I force a smile that I hope looks reassuring, but I’m an ugly crier and I think I might just be making things worse. I shake my head, hurriedly brushing the tears out of my eyes.
​
“I’m getting you karate lessons.”
​
​
​
(I fleshed out this story a lot more in my head, but whenever I try to fill in the other pieces I end up dissatisfied with the results. I've trimmed it down to what are probably the bare essentials, and I think I'll leave it at this for now. I may try to fill out the rest again at some point, but that's on a long list of stories I want to write more of...) | I looked for the FedEx truck every few minutes. Tracking number said it was en route. Confirmation that Mr. Z(I would never understand why he hadn't changed his name when he moved but whatever) had seen the proof of life I sent and was willing to negotiate. I'd done this enough times to get an idea about how it would work once I saw the returned envelope. We'd go back and forth and ultimately he would wire a large sum of money into my offshore account and I would hire a patsy to return the child. Funny how quiet this one was. I had to check on her to make sure she hadn't escaped or worse. Billionaires look at kidnapping as a cost of doing business but are much less tolerant of murder. Finally it arrived. I almost tripped on the doorway rushing to get out and receive the letter. When I got in all the blood drained from my face and i could feel the pit in my stomach fall out.
"Dear Sir
I pray this letter finds you and Abigail well. Unfortunately I will not be willing to negotiate for her release. I have many other children with better prospects for my legacy and she is far too quiet to hold any position in my company. In exchange for taking her off my hands so cleanly, I will not be pursuing you after this letter leaves my estate. She is enrolled in Kings Daughters elementary (though which grade I couldn't say) and will likely need to return. Fare well sir. Nothing personal. This is a business transaction I feel we both will benefit from.
Ethylwald Zionystiakis III
Shit. I grew up in juvenile hall I've got no idea how to raise a child! First thing I gotta do is check on her to make sure she still here. Then I gotta figure out where I'm going to send her to school. This wasnt what I wanted but this girl deserves more than being an inconvenience. But first, breakfast. Hope the kid likes waffles. I dont have anything else for her yet | 2019-02-09T04:11:33 | 2019-02-09T01:00:04 | 70 | 33 |
[WP] YOU CANNOT DIE, no matter what, for the first 65 years of your life. AFTER THAT you're completely mortal. This is the first morning after your 65th birthday... | It's been a long time since I've had contact with anyone, I've been waiting for this day for the past 39 years.
It was 40 years ago that I was placed aboard an ark ship that was sent to colonize other worlds that are tens of light-years away, the other poor souls were placed in cryostasis and won't ever wake up, but maybe it's better for them. About a year into our flight we were struck by a dead space probe while we were traveling at a significant fraction of the speed of light. It gave off more energry than most of the weapons manufactured during the cold war, it tore the ship to pieces scattering the frozen corpses into oblivion, destined to be frozen forever.
I was awake at the time of impact, and I've been drifting across this awful place for the past 39 years, in the vaacum of space, without any air to breathe. I knew I wouldn't die, but I managed to carry this last oxygen tank for the past 39 years for this morning and in approximately 30 seconds I will run out of air and finally end this miserable torment.
Fuck you humanity, you're all horrible people for sending me on this mission. | I woke up in the same hospital bed I'd been occupying for the last 23 years. My numerous scars and gouges greeted me with a sore welcome. I had done such amazing things with my life prior to this. The feds had covered all my medical expense for my service to them for so long. The injuries I sustained during my duty are still painful, sure, but what hurts most is knowing that my fire burned too bright and too soon. | 2014-12-24T13:11:00 | 2014-12-24T11:45:17 | 33 | 15 |
[WP] All souls in Hell are given the same test upon arrival. If they can create a punishment worthy of being added to the Pit, they get to ascend to demonhood on the spot. You are the first to succeed in 200 years...
[deleted] | "Democracy."
The demon Adjudicator, a green-skinned multi-gutted blob with the unfortunate name of Kikmahbutte, frowned. "There is no Democracy in Hell." Using a claw to pick at one of his three nostrils, he leaned forward and gestured with a crusty chin for me to continue. "Explain yourself, soul."
I'd only been down here for a week or maybe a fortnight, you know, taking in the sights, burning in the fires, that kind of thing. It was a passing Thraxon who paused its lashing of my scorched epidermis to scratch at what I presumed was its posterior for long enough for me to ask how a soul could get a promotion. After we had a good laugh (okay, so it laughed and I suppressed the continual screams of agony), it actually gave reply. "Invent new torment. If stupendously original, a soul may join our ranks. Fail and my whips will seem like a lover's kiss in comparison to what will happen next."
I hadn't hesitated. "Well heck. Sign me up."
With a shrug of its five shoulders I'd been lifted clear of the lava and chucked through a summoned portal. The adjudicator hadn't even flinched when my face smacked the marble floor before his raised dais and its overly-cushioned chair.
Pausing only to cough some charcoal from the lungs I answered the Adjudicator and took my shot. "It's simple, really. You've got what, Feudalism? That's no torture at all. Everyone knows where one stands with that kind of system. Shit rolls downhill, no chance to climb, none of that. What you need is a system that builds up hope...and then crushes it."
The blob shifted against the chair's velvet padding. "Say more."
"You've got to get them to believe they have meaningful choices. Set up two parties, and every ten to twenty years hold elections for who is in charge of which level. In the time in between have one party pander to say those who are being tormented with starvation. Promise them they'll starve less. Have the other party pander to those being burned alive, promise them relief and some ointment. That kind of thing. Mix and match."
"And then what? Actually give them a vote?" The Adjudicator leaned back and to the side.
I ignored the cloud that was produced as a byproduct and pressed forward. "Sure! But you guys set up the parties, you guys 'nominate' the candidates, and at the same time you turn the current feudal ranks into bureaucratic appointments. Give them the real power to regulate and control things, let the elected leaders be useless figureheads. Oh sure, let them deliver on some small promises to keep it interesting but - and here's the fun part - make it so for every promise they keep, it causes something even worse to happen to the other party's followers! Within a few decades the souls who voted one way will DESPISE those who voted for the other, even while in reality nothing ever meaningfully changed. With each election half of the souls will despair as their hopes get crushed, and it will continuously increase their hatred - which I can tell you guys sip like it was nectar - and then it's set up to do it again over and over in perpetuity!"
"Interesting." With that grumble, I knew I had him.
"I've saved the best for last," I added. "At the lower levels, let souls run for the seats. Fill their egos with false power and watch them lord it over everyone else."
The demon grunted. "That sounds like reward, not punishment."
I shook my head. "Have the bureaucrats control the vote counting. Right as any jerk feels invincible, toss 'em out and demote them to the lowest pit. The worst torment is to have once tasted power and lost it, it'll drive them insane for eternity."
The Adjudicator's eyes widened and he sharply looked around before making hushing me with a claw over its lips. "Shh! Don't say such things, a fallen angel might hear!"
With a dark grin I said, "Fine, fine...but you know I'm right."
Nodding with growing appreciation, he asked one last question. "Tell me, soul - what were you in life that you would devise such exquisite torment? This is brilliant and you shall indeed be granted demonhood to join our ranks!"
Chuckling to myself, I told him. "Me? Nothing much. I was merely a campaign consultant. But wait until I tell you about lobbyists..." | The room was dark. The eerie glow of the television offered just enough light to see his face. He reclined in the hard, plastic chair as they watched from above. The arrogance that led to his sins on Earth filled the empty space. On the other side of the glass pane, the young woman was grateful for the barrier that separated her from such paltry filth.
Smoothing out her pencil skirt, she shifted slightly as she waited for the show to start. She was surrounded by men dressed in colorful suits dripping with embellishment, as if the sheer quality of the fabric wasn’t enough to demonstrate their insurmountable wealth. The slight downward curve of her mouth was the only sign of her distaste. It was one of the few things that she could carry with her into the afterlife — her hatred.
Speaking of the devil, a slender male with jet-black hair combed back slid into the seat beside her. She turned her attention back to the victim that sat on the other side of the glass. He was blissfully unaware of the torture that lay before him, young and overconfident like she had been at the start of it all.
She felt nothing for him, least of all pity. Her humanity had been ripped away long ago. His choices landed his soul in Hell, and he was destined to suffer for eternity. He earned it.
“Sarina.” A whisper scraped against her ear, cold against her pale skin. “Are you excited?”
She plastered on a smirk, her eyes trained on the damned soul below them. He crossed his arms, the cocky bastard, used to isolation from his life in prison. She smiled as she pictured eyes squeezed shut in agony, bloodstained hands clawing off their own ears.
“Of course,” she answered. Sarina kept her voice low, eyes hooded as the male demon mistakenly thought her smile was directed at him.
Licking her lips, her mind strayed to what was to come while his remained on her mouth. She asked, “How long do you think they’ll last?”
The question was left unanswered as a servant exchanged a few words with the chairman. Sarina shook her head to dislodge the dazed look from her eyes, focusing on the demon that now stood in front of the small podium. His hulking shoulders threatened to split the seams of his expensive suit, the lavish gold more akin to armor than formal wear.
“For over two-hundred years, we have searched for a new method to satisfy our sadistic lust and repay the lost souls for their crimes.” He started, drool dripping from his maw. “And today, we finally gather together to witness the finest piece of psychological torment in centuries, all thanks to our youngest and most lovely demoness, Sarina.”
She merely nodded at his extravagant praise, the bitterness resting on the tip of her tongue as sharp as a knife. He ended his spiel with a few announcements pertaining to the official appointment ceremony, and she took her opportunity to approach the glass. She rested her hand on it gently, caressing its smooth surface.
The other demons distracted themselves with empty conversation to pass the few moments until the torture began. Brushing past a few demons, she excused herself to the restroom. Sarina only spared the group one last furtive glance before slipping out the door.
The spell activated, and the quiet *click* of the lock was drowned out by the celebratory mood. Sarina strode down the corridor, the *click-clack* of her heels against the tile already fading out of earshot. She was free.
Suddenly, she paused. Sarina tilted her head, moving closer until she recognized the familiar song leaking from the intercom. Her mouth split open into a wide grin as she knew that soon their screams of agony would shake the very walls that had trapped her, begging and pleading for the stone to collapse and crush them to death.
Sarina danced to the beat as she left her prison behind, the words getting louder and louder as she sang along.
“I’m a Barbie girl, in the Barbie world… Life in plastic, it’s fantastic..” | 2021-12-22T17:07:26 | 2021-12-22T15:45:36 | 864 | 218 |
[WP] While at a football game, you notice the man sitting in front of you is livestreaming the game to his cell phone rather than actually watching the game in front of him. You see on the screen a player running the football in for a touchdown, 32 seconds later you watch it happen in real life. | Am I allowed to post a story on my own writing prompt? Oh well...I'm going to anyways. Hope you guys like it...its been awhile since I've done any writing!
I tried not to stare but I wanted to so badly . I must have been confused. He was just watching a different game from a different time and it was just a coincidence. I went back to watching the game, summoning all of my willpower to not look at the man’s phone. My willpower is weak apparently because within 5 seconds I was staring at his phone again. I was sure I wasn’t imagining things now, this was definitely the same game. The man abruptly stood up and began working his way towards the stadium stairs. I looked around to see if anyone else had been watching this man like I had, but everyone’s focus was on the game. He was at the stairs now. I tried to get a good look at his face but it was mostly obscured by the hood of his jacket. I needed to know more about this man and his magical cell phone, so I decided to follow him. I stood up quickly and began shuffling down the aisle, bumping into people, spilling drinks and apologizing profusely. I made it to the stairs and looked back at the row of disgusted, angry people that I had left behind and made one final apology before dashing up stairs after the man. When I finally spotted his bright blue jacket again, he was nearly at the exit. I hung back as far away as I possibly could without losing sight of him again. It had been a long time since I had followed someone like this and I realized how much I had missed the thrill of it. There weren't many people in the hallways right now, everyone was watching the game so I didn’t have a crowd to blend in with which made things a little more challenging. The man abruptly turned around a corner and I lost sight of him. I picked up my pace a little, still trying to be inconspicuous. When I rounded the corner, all I found was an empty hallway that lead into a parking lot. I sprinted to the end of the hallway and into the middle of a parking lot just as empty as the hallway had been. I let out a disappointed sigh. My curiosity would have to be left unfulfilled I suppose.
That’s when I heard a familiar sound, a sound I’d hoped to never hear again.
Gunshots.
Then screaming.
My stomach twisted itself into a knot. The sound was coming from the direction of the football field. I turned to run back, to find some way to help. Before I could even start to run , a red Subaru came to a screeching halt in front of me and the passenger door swung open.
“Get in Tim.” I looked around the parking lot for another Tim to come running up and get in the car.
Apparently I was the only Tim in the parking lot. In fact, besides the Subaru, I was the only person in the parking lot. The gunshots and screaming continued. I looked to the stadium. They needed help.
“Look at me Tim!” I looked back to the Subaru. A pretty brunette pushed back the bright blue hood of her jacket to reveal her face. My mystery man was a mystery woman.
“You can't save them. If you try, you will die and you are not supposed to die. Not yet.”
| Holy fuck, it happened. It just happened.i couldn’t believe my eyes. The next thing I knew, the screen showed a loud explosion during half time . 💥 I immediately got up from my seat and began running. Pushing, shoving everyone out of the way. No time to think, no time to explain, no one would believe me, I had less than a minute.
After 29 seconds I made it outside before getting hit by a car as I was running out of the stadium. And that’s how I died and ended up in hell. How bout you?
Oh me ?... well I was operating this new confetti explosive during half time. At the same game you were at. I must’ve used too much power. The explosion sent out a blinding light and I ended up dying in the hospital from a brain injury after my head hit some equipment. Luckily I was the only one seriously injured. | 2019-01-09T23:38:19 | 2019-01-09T23:22:09 | 33 | 16 |
[WP] Quantum locking lets humans create impervious armor and giant machines the size of skyscrapers. When we finally encounter the rest of the galactic civilization, we realize that we are the only ones that have this technology. | They called us El-Reuth'a. What would you guess it to mean? Peering from the portholes of decades-old spacecrafts, glimpsing our black-plated behemoths crawling ever closer, would you think *demons*? Would you think *warriors*? Hovering sky-factories churning out mechanized hunters, sub-atmospheric satellites, silhouetted behind cloud cover, untouchable. What would you call us?
It had been by chance that we ever met the other races. There had only been hints: signs of mined resources. Our ambition, our curiosity, propelled us further into what we now know to be their core planets system. Our foolishness met us with them at an ancient site of worship underground, our pneumatic beasts beating and collapsing it from above, all in the search of simple metals. Before this, we had envisioned ambassadors, great halls with humans entering the pantheon of space-explorers; progress and cooperation. Instead, we had incited war.
It has been almost twelve years. There have been less than a hundred human casualties. There have been an estimated two-hundred thousand casualties on their end. This was within the first year. We could have left it at the level of small skirmishes, seeking only to defend. Instead, we pushed to take everything. They surrendered their cities, their land, their hopes. They fell neatly within our nascent empire. Perhaps they underestimated our doggedness and mettle. I think, though, they underestimated our vanity. Dreams of unity would never have held up in the face of a group of imperialistic space-faring savages.
I am Thane Pylius, a senator of the Lower Council of the Great Earthen Commonwealth. And I am grateful for this time of peace. There is, though, a sense of sadness, of lost cultures and fraternity, that belies it. I've seen the look in their eyes when I pass through their boroughs and towns, the defeat heavy upon their bodies. It wasn't until I spoke to an archaeologist, at that desecrated temple that kindled the war, that I came to understand them, our relation to them.
Do you wish to know what El-Reuth'a means? It does not mean *demon* or *warrior*. It means The River of the Great One—That Which Washes Away Everything. It means The End. | They built dreams and the rest of life came to see them rise. The earth was burned and dry by the time the machines were finished and Evan volunteered to be a pilot. The sunlight glinted off the thousands of interlocking beams that built the main body of the machine as it lifted from the ground for the first time. It was glowing silver, a huge sphere with room inside for six thousand people. Accommodation, schools, a hospital and parks: all fitted with long windows that overlooked the destroyed earth. Eight huge legs operated to walk the beast over land, like a delicate spider built large enough to block the sun from a major city. The sphere weighed it down in the middle and the legs bowed.
Evan was one of eight who sat at the very peak of the silver spider, locked into place. They operated the legs: one each. Each had their breath held as the spider took its first step, then its second. The pilots exhaled. A current running through Evan's veins to keep him in his pod, his hands locked tight against the controls, he could not wipe away the sweat that trickled down from his hairline and into his eyes. It stung. As a child, he had cried when told that he could not visit the stars. A telescope came as a birthday present that year, but it was too late. The stars were still too far away.
The Others came on the day the spider left the earth. The spindly silver legs dangled into nothingness as the sphere propelled itself away. Evan, ashamed of himself, closed his eyes as he and his seven fellows looked straight into the void. Terminal velocity reached, time hung. Space was silent. Against the blackness of the sky, the spider drifted, now a squid. The only colour came from the stars: perhaps the six thousand passengers could see the earth as it retreated to the size of a pinprick behind them, but the eight pilots' necks fused into the machinery and they could not look back.
Others surrounded the silver monster. When they fired on it, the spider remained impervious. The six thousand were safe. In the room at the peak of the sphere, eight pilots screamed wordlessly as they suffered for the safety of the ship. Locked in, Evan was unable even to clench his hands in pain. Every vein ran hot. The pilot fused to the pod on his left bit out his own tongue, howling through the horror the attacks wreaked on his body. It was the payment they agreed. Evan was just a boy who had wanted to see the stars. | 2016-06-25T16:35:23 | 2016-06-25T13:24:56 | 70 | 30 |
[WP] Death gave you immortality with the plan that you'd realize how awful it is and beg him to let you die. 50,000 years later he's getting annoyed as you continue to have fun and live a wonderful life. | "Are you sure?"
"Yes I am. I got accepted into that new University in Delhi."
"You want to go to school again?"
"Yeah, its a new field... memeology is what they are calling it. Study of internet culture and changes within it." I replied back to the black mass in a pinstripe suit. This time he looks like an old funeral home director, a man who had seen so many dead bodies that he looks more like one than living.
"It's been 50,000 years. You've learned just about everything. All the degrees from at least every school accredited, enough certifications to fund an entire country in enough fields that you could build an island and have a better GDP than any other country." Death replied. It wasn't as cold this time he was here "Why don't you just die."
"You said I couldn't. Never in the past 50,000 years have I thought I could. I want to learn everything first."
"You want to learn what comes after death?" Death asked, smiling
"I'll learn that when I know everything there is to know in life." I replied, standing up from the cafe table, my drink gone, and the flower wilting. Touching it, it unwilts slightly "I'm learning more than you could imagine." | A shadow looms over me, its anger palpable in the morning mist. I don’t need to turn to know who it is. “Death.”
The figure inclines slightly, a bare ghost of a bow. I smile, and say, “Our deal holds, my friend. How many times is it, now?” A piercing screech echoes from behind a locked door, ringing against the cold metal walls. I can’t help but smile - after all, if I haven’t checked the tally today, I never will. “Thank you, my good man. I’ll see you soon.”
I turn back around and blink. What was I doing? What are all these papers, and why are they in a hole? What could even dig through that much steel? I reach down and start to sift through the pages, and as I realize what they mean, my smile grows. “I’m going to live forever!” | 2017-11-29T08:24:55 | 2017-11-28T13:19:24 | 935 | 16 |
[WP] You are one of three astronauts currently stationed on the International Space Station. Communications are down for 1 hour due to upgrades, and one of your coworkers just killed the other. 47 minutes remain before contact with Earth is possible. | "Whoops."
Pilot David stared out into the endless void, his jaw slack with shock.
"WHOOPS???"
"It's fine, it's ok, we can fix this!" Zach's hands shook violently as he mashed the controls. "She still has time before her oxygen runs out!"
The newest addition to the station, Zach was learning how to perform routine maintenance from his superiors. If he got this right, David would finally respect him as a fellow astronaught.
"No, stop, you're making it worse!" The pilot tries to reach for the controls as warning lights start flashing on the display screen, but Zach pulls away.
"I can DO it, you're just DISTRACTING me!"
Mission Commander Anise, untethered from her harness, continues to float lazily away from the station.
"She's almost unreachable!" screams David.
"JUST GIVE ME THE-"
"NO GIVE IT BACK I WANT TO-"
Suddenly the screen goes black. David and Zach look up from their desperate struggle to see their mother, holding the cord to the xbox.
"It's two in the morning." She says, furious.
They suddenly wish they were Mission Commander Anise. | Minute 0:
What the fuck just happened? Coms went down for upgrades, Schist grabbed a wrench and just stared wailing in Scotts. Over and over and over again, he, he wouldn’t stop. The worst part was the blood. The blood it- it was floating. It didn’t fall, just started moving towards you. Schist just stared at the body, no remorse, no, nothing. His eyes, they looked empty. While he was looking at the body I ran to the coms room and locked myself in. 47 minutes until coms are back up. Just 47 more minutes.
Minute 10:
Schist won’t leave. He’s just waiting outside the door. There is no banging, no screaming, just silent wait. He hasn’t said anything and I’m to afraid to speak. I can hear him breathing. God help me. Please God help me.
Minute 25:
Schist’s still by the door, but he’s started to smile. He looks, happy. Not like he just murdered a man in cold blood. He waved to me and I saw the bloody wrench still in his hand. Why won’t he just leave? Why won’t he leave?
Minute 30:
Schist has started to giggle. I- I don’t know why, but he started to laugh and giggle and squeal. 17 more minutes. Then the nightmare is over. I don’t want to die. Not in space. I don’t want to die a cold vacuum. I want to see my family. I don’t wanna die I don’t wanna die I don’t wanna die. Please God I don’t wanna die!
Minute 45:
Two more minutes. Two more minutes. Two more minutes. Two more minutes. Two more minutes. Two more minutes. Two more minutes. Two more.
Coms upgrade has been completed. The radio crackles to life. “Connors? Scotts? Schist? Are you there?” Nobody answers. The coms center tries again. “Hello? Please respond.” All that comes across is the ring of metal on metal and then absolute silence. | 2020-06-25T05:34:32 | 2020-06-25T05:16:34 | 22 | 15 |
[WP]: Your village idiot is full of the strangest superstitions. She goes on about washing one's hands, says you get worms in your intestines from standing barefoot on night soil and that medicines with mercury should be avoided at all costs. You're starting to suspect she might be onto something. | "Hey Glinda! Stop eating that cow meat! You need to cook it first."
Glinda rolled her eyes at Dahv-id. He claimed he could read, and was from a time far beyond ours. But Glinda knew he was just some crazy guy who didn't want her to eat.
"But I'm hungry!" Glinda shouted back. "Can one not partake in a meal during mealtimes?"
"Not that meal. Here, I made some soup. Put your meat in here and I'll make it taste better." At this suggestion, Glinda yielded. Dahv-id's food was good, even if his mind was missing.
"Dahv-id, where did you learn to cook like this?" Glinda inquired.
"In my time, my wife was the workhorse and I worked at home. That meant I had to do the cooking, and I guess I got really good at it."
"Your wife was working and you weren't? What kind of useless man are you?"
"In my time, men and women are equal. Sadly, you will never see it. You won't live long enough."
"Men and women being equal? Imagine that. You tell the greatest stories, Dahv-id."
Somewhere, a wolf howled.
"Glinda, did you hear that wolf? That tells me that the sun has completely set. It's time for me to leave."
"Where to do you travel?"
"Home. Many miles and many years away."
"You are leaving? You know we enjoy having you here, even if you are a little crazy."
David chuckled. "I fixed my room of metal, as you call it. It will take me away."
Glinda sighed. "Well, every good thing must end sometimes."
David climbed into his time machine and went forward into the 22nd century.
Glinda finished her meal and was just about to leave, when David's time machine reappeared.
She cried for joy and ran to open the door. David staggered out and groaned.
"While I was here, my wife figured I would cheat on her, so she took over the world. It looks like I'll be staying here for a while longer. Now, I just remembered. You have to throw away your families' lucky copper pot. It kills you too."
Glinda stopped smiling and simply said "Are you serious?"
***
Quick note: David left for medieval england on July 25th, 2182. He went back on August 21st, 2182, to account for the time he had aged while stuck in England. Not a plothole, I just couldn't think of a way to say it in the story.
| Yes, Madison came from our village. Well, not originally, she just wandered in one day in the strangest clothes. I was a boy then, and I didn't like playing with the others very much; I liked to poke around at the edges of town, search for elves and the like. It was just good luck I saw her first; Sun knows what Elder Mason would have done if he'd seen a woman wearing pants. And her name, too: she was obviously a daughter, not a son!
I was always so curious then, but she didn't have many answers. I was pretty sure she really didn't know where she was, or how she had come to be in the Kingdom of Hardin - well, that was what it was, in those days.
Fortunately for her, there was no shortage of land. Lord Falcon had called up a lot of men during the last war with the Kingdom of Darian, and of course they stayed together on the battlefield, trying to protect each other, and a wizard put a fireball right in the middle of the bunch from half a league away. So Lord Falcon had no problem with giving her land, as long as he got his forty percent of the harvest, and no one made any fuss about her being unmarried.
She became known as the "village idiot" pretty quickly. She was always coming around, asking the simplest questions about farming. Old Man Crandell thought she was joking at first, when she asked for seeds to plant an onion bush. And she had all sorts of arguments with the healer: everyone was laughing about her idea of boiling bandages before using them, and she kept saying that how we dealt with night soil was "un-sane-I-tarie", which no one could understand.
What really sealed it was when she actually started *arguing with Lord Falcon* during one of his visits! The last time someone had done that, his body had hung over the road for a month. She was saying that there had been no good reason for the war, that his taxes were too high - all of it true, of course, but you didn't say that sort of thing. He just leered at her and rode away.
I didn't see her for a couple of days after that. I was afraid that he'd had her killed, and I went to look for her in the one or two hours I had each day after the work was done. But she came back on the morning of the fourth day, walking slowly and painfully, with her feet unusually far apart. Anyway, after that, she utterly *hated* Lord Falcon, for reasons she would never quite explain.
Around then is also when she started hiding away in her house. My father ordered me not to talk with her, but even then I thought she was interesting. I'd see her go in and out with bags or boxes full of powders, or useless rocks, or charcoal from the charcoal burners out in the forest. After that started, she would not on any account have cooking fires in her house; even on chilly evenings, you would see her starting a fire out in the back, shivering violently. She was no good with fires either. Somehow she never caught sick though.
So being the "village idiot" was probably what kept her alive, actually. She'd made a right mess of her fields, and wouldn't have had enough to get through the winter even before the taxes.
| 2017-09-14T09:55:29 | 2017-09-14T09:12:27 | 97 | 11 |
[WP] A level superheroes protect the universe, B level superheroes protect the Galaxy, C level superheroes protect the Earth and so on. You are a Z level superhero. You protect...a single street in a small village. | This is my street. No, I don’t technically own it or anything – private drives are for people with a whole lot more money than I have. This lovely stretch or road was assigned to me by our governing body, the International Council of Super Heroes, twenty-two years ago. You see, the ICSH is ran by a council of elders who utilize a tremendous AI, that was developed by Wayne Industries, to rank heroes by natural ability, aptitude and society's needs. Some of them are massively powerful or frighteningly smart, and get the big jobs. You know, fighting off extraterrestrial threats; maintaining the space-time continuum; preventing nuclear holocaust; et cetera. Not me, though. I’m plenty smart, but I am not all that powerful: I am a little faster than the average human, I can see in the dark a little better, and I am a superb judge of character. Once I started discovering my powers, I had dreams of defending the cosmos from nefarious entities. That allegedly brilliant AI didn’t agree with my dreams and gave me the score of Z. My heart was broken until I arrived here.
I was assigned to Indian Paintbrush Ave, here in Bairoil, Wyoming. Ever heard of it? Probably not. There is nobody in Wyoming, so a town of ninety-nine people might as well not exist. It is sparse here, dry and hot in the summer. In the winter it snows so damn much. I’m from Pensacola, and frankly I hate this snow and the lack of water. The mountains are nice, though. You want to know what keeps me at my post, here in the middle of nowhere? The people. On IPA, as I cleverly like to call my road, there are about fifty people spread across twenty-eight houses and a shed that I’m pretty sure that someone is squatting in. For these people, I’m important to the community, and I’d never have it any other way.
You see, normally I’d be here to fight crime or guard school kids as they get off the bus. The thing is, there is basically no crime here, and the whole town has like five children who are of elementary school age. Instead, I serve my street and people however I can. It was last November, for example, when I helped save the life of old Toby Jones. He’d had a heart attack and no pulse, but the nearest hospital is way over in Casper. Had I not been fully trained in CPR and my superpower of having 10% more stamina than the average man, Toby would have died by the time Medvac arrived. Oh, and there was that time where the Ferris Mountain wildfire was threatening the town. Everyone had left Bairoil due to the evacuation, except for Jamie Harris and her disabled aunt. They had no place to go, but I had connections. Thanks to my membership in the ICSH, I was able to score a sweet five percent discount at the Motel 6 up in Jeffrey City, and provide safe refuge for Jamie and her Aunt Mildred.
Most of my days aren’t that eventful, to be honest. I actually spend most of my time shoveling driveways and sidewalks in the winter, sweeping the dust in the summer and just shooting the breeze with the townsfolk. I may be assigned to only IPA, but this whole community has welcomed me, embraced me, and accepted me as one of their own. They even started calling me “Captain Bairoil,” a nickname that I might just use as my official title registered with the ICSH. To tell you the truth, I was very disappointed to be sent here. It was hard to go from the sunny, warm climate of Florida to the harsh weather of central Wyoming. The mountains are austere and beautiful, but I miss the sea and palm trees. But you know what? I’m glad they sent me here. This place has become home, and this community is now my community. I love it here and hope to never leave. | The Carlisle Cat had been counted out more times than a young child’s piggy bank, but still he remained vigilant. Determined. He would become a great superhero one day; he only needed the chance to show his prowess. He could hear his Stoic idol, Seneca, in his mind: “No man is more unhappy than he who never faces adversity. For he is not permitted to prove himself.” The only problem was, his jurisdiction was currently confined to Carlisle Street, Garden City. One street... This was befitting of an entry level superhero of Class Z but provided far too little opportunity for the Cat to showcase his talents.
The only reason this whole superhero bureaucracy came to be was because of that “Defund the Police” movement, seemingly ages ago. They tried having a neighborhood watch at first, but that turned out to be an ineffective policing method. Then the idea of having superheroes as civil protectors was proposed. The first superheroes were so strong and fearsome that the motion to have them police the United States was passed unanimously. Soon after it became apparent that there weren’t *enough* superheroes. The superheroes were holding the front but were working too much attempting to respond to every crime in the country! How could roughly one hundred heroes replace all of the police in the vastness of the United States? *Put one of ‘em on every street corner,* some pro-superhero strategist suggested and here we are.
The Cat didn’t even have aspirations of becoming a Class A or B superhero. The problems on Earth could surely satisfy his ambition. He didn’t have any superpowers, unfortunately, but he did have heart. Even perhaps, becoming the superhero of Garden City would be enough for him. *Garden City Giant. No, Garden City Guardian. That’s the one,* he dreamed. *That’s way better than the current Garden City Slugger.*
The fact was most Class Z superheroes amounted to nothing. They knew that the superheroes that patrolled the blocks were more powerful that themselves, mere street protectors, so surely, they weren’t needed. *Heck, the Class Y’s could respond faster than myself anyway,* they think. Unfortunately, block heroes tend to think that district heroes (Class X’s) would pick up *their* slack if they were negligent in their duties. In this way, the heroes at the higher levels of the bureaucracy were much busier.
In Garden City, the Slugger was the city’s Champion. He was a shotgun wielding whiz. Rubber bullets… most of the time. If you posed a real threat, the Slug had no problem chewing through you with his namesakes. This Champion had been picking up the slack of his constituents for *years.* It was evident by the amount of times you’d see his name in the headlines. News feeds were virtually clogged with photos, videos and articles relating to the Slugger’s latest arrests.
The Cat would sometimes listen to news podcasts to get the details on the Slugger’s daily busts. One news show rang a bell in the Cat’s mind. The bell of calling.
“Slugger has turned rogue and is at large! Moments ago, Garden City Slugger killed a drug dealer and user at the scene of an illegal transaction. When the District Defenders; Queenston Queen, Marsdale Sphinx and Meriton Myrmidon approached to subdue him, he gunned them…”
The Cat didn’t hear the rest because he was running to that tolling bell. That chance that he’d always been waiting for. | 2020-07-28T12:51:28 | 2020-07-28T12:43:01 | 63 | 19 |
[WP] You accidentally kill a person. You instantly absorb all of their memories, intelligence, and talents. You find it feels euphoric and quite addicting. | The first person I killed was Andy Chang, a fifty-five-year-old doctor.
My car collided with his body. He tumbled across the darkened sidewalk and crunched against the curb.
I thought I was dying too.
My world exploded with light and colour- swirls of memories and pain. Shrill music echoed in my head. I threw open the door and vomited onto the road. Beige chunks splattered my boots.
Chang’s body was a crumpled heap; dark red clumps spilled from his head over his grey peacoat. His rounded glasses lay next to the sewage drain, the lens cracked and frames bent. One shoe sat in front of my sedan. Chang’s white sock darkened with the rain.
A couple yelled something from across the street. *Help him*.
It jolted me out of my shock. I hadn’t considered the possibility Chang might be alive.
“Call 911,” I directed the young woman.
I pulled off my scarf and held it against the blood spilling from Chang’s head. “Hold this here,” I direct an onlooker. “Don’t stop pressing.”
I hovered over Chang’s body and tilted my ear over his mouth. I watched his chest and looked for any rise or fall. I pressed my fingers against the side of his upper neck looking for a pulse.
Nothing.
*Landmark* I told myself. I lined my hands up and began to press.
I pumped against his sternum.
Two inches down. Recoil. Down again. And again.
Tilt the head, open the airway. Two breaths.
Compressions again.
And again.
When the paramedics arrived I already knew Chang was dead. If the impact hadn’t killed him, the blood he lost would have.
Later, the police arrived.
Chang was at fault - he was jaywalking. Stepped out from between two parked cars.
“The witnesses said you acted quickly, miss,” Officer Dawkins said.
“I only wish I could’ve helped.”
“You did all you could. Quick thinking and first aid can’t solve everything.”
I nodded.
And then frowned.
I had never taken a first aid course.
Last month, when my roommate sliced the tip of her pinky off with the vegetable knife, I was the one who passed out.
I didn’t realize until that night, when Chang’s memories flooded in, what had happened.
I also didn’t realize how easy it would be to slip into my new life.
I craved it.
The thud of the body.
A burst of light and colour.
Swirls of memories and pain.
Shrill music echoing in my head.
And a rush of new talent.
/r/liswrites | Beer bottles and pizza boxes were scattered across the room. My phone had a dozen messages and as many missed calls from worried friends who hadn't seen me except online in a week.
They wouldn't understand.
I couldn't get it out of my head. The rush, the endorphins - it was the highest high I'd ever had. No games, no sports, no alcohol or drugs from college, nothing touched it.
Beer and games and pizza, anything that shut down my mind with these memories that weren't mine. I needed to stop thinking, because thinking inevitably led to that moment.
Honestly though, a mugger? Targeting me? I guess I'm not poor. I could afford this week of food and booze. But why me? I didn't have any cash. My coat's not that nice. I was just walking in the cold. But then that knife. It was dark out, but somehow it glinted anyways. I thought that was a camera trick in movies or whatever, but Jesus that blade caught any light around when he held it out.
Really I just pushed him. I pushed him and it was snowing and icy and he slipped. A simple slip that's all. Straight backwards, and *crack* - his head against the concrete. Maybe in a field the blood and the snow would look poetic, but there, in the muddy slush, it just looked like rusty iron.
But then the sensation. Like I was drawing the life from that opening in his skull. Like I was drinking it. He was great at tool and die work I found out. But everything went to shit with the Big Three folding here in Michigan. Lost his job, never told his wife. Just took to the streets eight hours a day - panhandling, petty thieving, shoplifting for presents. Whatever worked. Until today. Poor woman. What a way to find out.
Someone had called the cops, and they found me there staring at him five minutes later. Said I was in shock, gave me a shiny blanket. That whole deal. Took my statement, and that of the witness who called. The whole thing seemed cut and dry. No charges pressed anywhere said the police. The family I'm sure is mourning.
Me? I've got the shakes. Bad. Worse than the line of coke I did once. My neighbor's some kinda cleaning person for crime scenes. They told me about it once. Pretty up a house so it's liveable again. Fix up a workplace so people will come back, maybe forget in a while.
I never learned how to use a press, but I'm sure I could do it now after the last guy.
Damn it. I knew I shouldn't let myself think. | 2017-12-08T07:47:34 | 2017-12-08T06:35:26 | 2,578 | 409 |
[WP] Your ability to see people's age in years as an invisible number above their heads has made you the perfect bouncer. One day you see a four digit number. | It's gotta be....
It's a vampire.
I looked right into the eyes of the 4 digit freaked, took a step back into the doorway and said
"You, you are not allowed inside this building, or my home."
He said something quietly to his friends and they started calling me names but I didn't care.
A week later I thought it was a bad dream, something that didn't happen, I didn't want to think of it.
A month later I was convinced it was a dream.
Four years later I saw the same man when I left a bar on a Saturday night.
That was 68 years ago, my number just hit triple digits. | I stared bleakly at the faintly glowing digits. As if it couldn't get worse, the last number - a five - slowly transformed into a six.
"We have reservations."
The average-looking gentleman put out his hand and I plucked the driver's license out of it automatically. It read like any other I'd looked at tonight; the birthdate was just a few years before mine. The numbers over the woman's head read as twenty seven. Blonde and beautiful, her eyes were stunning and fixated almost entirely on her ancient companion. A man five thousand years her senior.
"Yes," I rasped, from a shock-clogged throat. "VIP room upstairs."
He scowled at me then, and I felt a weight of scrutiny I didn't know could exist. Like a bug under a magnifying glass. In the sun. I winced away from those eyes like they were an assault, and backed out of the way, stumbling over my feet. I had no desire to know this man, but I had the unnerving suspicion that he'd now want to know me.
And that couldn't happen. | 2021-11-13T01:48:11 | 2017-09-01T19:55:18 | 585 | 140 |
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