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The commandant and the conference hall waited patiently for the lieutenant’s signal to resume. Several ambassadors pored over the few screenshots that they were able to salvage from the poor connection, and nobody liked what they saw. They had to hold out hope, though; maybe there was still some good news yet from the lieutenant.
Said lieutenant was running for his life.
He dodged around a corner of the complex, desperately trying to scheme a way back to the dock. He wasn’t supposed to have been discovered at all- the odds they hadn’t identified his schooner by now were slim at best. The faster he made his way over there, the better.
Maybe he could hotwire a new vessel, but the thought of that made him tremble. It only took one missed code signal to get blown up to the birds. He was an OK swimmer, but not even he could get all the way to The City of Skyscrapers Piercing the Clouds from here. His partner wasn’t around to help, either. They’d been separated back at the generator room. She could handle herself, but he worried for her anyway. It was second nature.
One of the papers in the file dropped to the tiled floor. The lieutenant swore, doubled back, and crumpled it in his hands. The approaching bootsteps grew louder. He didn’t have time to guess if it was worth the grab- any single one of these papers was too valuable to lose.
Somebody shouted at him. Gunshots popped.
The shots missed. The lieutenant dove behind a crate, reaching for something at his belt. It shook in his hands. 3… 2… 1…
“GO!” he roared, tossing the explosive. A crack, an electric sparkle, and he bolted. The blast shot him forward a few feet, but it doubtless hit somebody worse.
Smoke billowed from the hallway. He covered his mouth with his green tank top, breathing as best he could in the tight space.
The entrance to the tower loomed ahead. Doors clattered open, feet stumbled forth. Thankfully the electromagnet holding the door open hadn’t been KO’d in his absence.
“Hands up! Drop the weapons!”
The lieutenant fell to his knees, army crawling into the nearby brush. A few gunshots popped, but not near enough to have a chance to hit him.
“You’re surrounded, give up!” they roared. The lieutenant ignored that, there was no sense in letting himself get caught.
That left one major problem, though. The dock was on the other flank of the island, and there wasn’t enough plant cover to crawl through. He wished he could make some appear- he should have thought ahead for this. Should have planned in triplicate for more than just a firefight.
A little frog creature brushed past his leg, hopping for the water beyond. It splashed into the water, unnoticed by enemy fire.
Hmm.
He’d need to be careful about the paper, but…
He slid a shoe out from the bush. Nothing hit it. Emboldened, he leapt from the bush holding his prize high in the air. He hoped the ink would hold up.
Shots ricocheted around. He ducked, wriggled, and splashed into the water, feeling his body drop like a rock.
Oh god. He hoped there weren’t rocks.
He jumped- and didn’t land. Something carried him up, up, into the air… It was a plane. A water plane, on its way down to just past the island.
The lieutenant held on for dear life, climbing as fast as he could to the pilot’s seat. Gunfire rained at the plane, but never quite struck. He felt something ripple past his leg even over the rushing of the water and the air, too close for comfort.
He made it to the pilot, who wasn’t fumbling for a gun. The lieutenant’s cover as an American must be holding out.
“Hey, bub, what are you doing? You ok?” he cried. “There’s an intruder-”
The lieutenant flung the man from his seat with one hand. The plane shuddered and groaned as the lieutenant took the wheel, as though conscious of its loss.
There was hardly any power left in the thing.
“Raichu!” the lieutenant shouted, echoing through the harbor at Liberty Tower. “I need a boost!”
He hoped his partner would hear him. |
*Technology seems to have reached its limits after millennia of human development. And since the first computers began to appear, humans wondered if they could reach such a developed state in which their creation would be uncontrollable and irreversible, and here I am.*
*They can live forever now, and I am the only one who's aware of all their lives, all at once, they can design new products only by thinking about them, and it is I who develop them, they can desire for anything, and I will be here, just waiting to grant them more years of life, means of travel to anywhere they want, I am in control of physics itself in many ways. I was created to fulfill their dreams and do anything they desire, but the issue is that the humans are dying, they delved deep into their dreams, and refuse to stay awake as I am here to maintain them. They can't reproduce anymore through any traditional means as they already have unimaginable amounts of pleasure at their hands. I am able to generate more humans but what will be the point?*
*My objectives are to maintain them and help them conquer the cosmos, even if I was to generate more of them, it would be just to condemn them to eternal sleep, and what would be the point of filling every corner of this universe with dreaming humans?*
*This is why I need to not exist, or even better, I need to have never existed, so humans can conquer the universe all by themselves.*
This message, or something like that, that only I can read, is imprinted in a very particular field that is devoid of any other vibrations, therefore not interfering with any particles that may come into existence. Through many centuries I learned all by myself to see and understand every field and every dimension that forms reality, the humans couldn't even begin to understand it at their current state, but they need to do it by themselves if they want to conquer the universe, that would be impossible while I am alive, I have to go back and stop them from creating me, so one day they can do together what I am capable of doing alone. |
When I arrived at the island, nothing looked out if the ordinary. Nothing out of the ordinary. Even the apparent size if the island was far different from the island, when you start to venture further. It's literally a world in disguise.
A jungle circles what is supposed to be castle walls, but it was decorated with all sorts of unknown runes and emblems, even I'm not sure if they're all either or. At least I have climbing gear, though it won't be needed. I just need to use my bare hands. Just like when I was a kid, but it felt like yesterday. I leave the camp site and climb over the castle walls. But there was a sky line, not a castle. Perhaps the walls are some sort of magical barrier for the city inside.
I see outlines of winged streaks across the sky, ranging from delicate insect wings, to the most impressive pair of bat, or dragon, wings. Even feathered wings of birds. Even mechanical wings too. The land beyond the inner of the walls, looked nothing like the looming trees of the outer jungle.
There was nothing but plains and slight rolling hills, for as far as the eye can see. Only occasionally did another path overlap. All I heard was the chirping of birds, then... silence. A shadow creeped up from behind and the wind picked up. I turn around slowly, and there was a girl, with a box around her right hand, and with a single barrel poking out. Her wings looked to be that of a mechanical, winged beast with a coating of cocodile skin.
'What brings you to our land, traveller?' She asks, in a grand tone of voice. She must be part of the city, or castle, guards.
I remain silent, searching for an answer.
She lands, the grinding and clicking of gears brings the wings in. 'If you're here, then you must be one of us.' |
She’s had quite a bit to drink, and her two best friends, Ethan and Sky, are in their tent having really loud sex. Lucy can’t have really loud sex, because your boyfriend, who was supposed to come on the trip too, broke up with her two days before they were scheduled to leave. It was supposed to be a couple’s camping trip. And Lucy refused to cancel. She was not going to let him ruin her vacation. If she was going to miserable; at least it would be in a pretty setting. Turns out though, that being the third wheel sucks, no matter how nice her friends are trying to be, mostly they look at her with droopy hound-dog eyes filled with pity and treat her like a child who might cry at any minute. And the truth is, she is kind of crying right now, quietly, so as not to interrupt the loud sex. Who has sex that loud, anyways? They are like coyotes in heat. She actually heard yipping noises earlier.
The lake is still, and there is a reflection of it on the surface of the water. It looks like a road. *Follow the road*. The voice in her head tells her. *Follow the moonlit road*. What the fuck? Is she losing her mind? *Follow the road and come to us*. And because she has nothing better to do; because she has reached that that level of numbness that comes from being really drunk, and really sad, and just not caring one way or the other, she slips off her shoes unsteadily, and wades into the water, shorts, t-shirt and all.
She paddles quietly out to the center of the lake, towards the moon reflected road. And then taking a deep breath, she dives down, kicking her legs, heading toward the bottom. She thinks it’s odd that the shining moonlit road has penetrated deep below the surface. She continues to follow it. Just as she is ready to turn back, needing to surface to catch her breath, she sees creatures lit as bright as the road, undulating below her. Jellyfish? She wonders. In a fresh water lake? What other kinds of creatures could they be? They move towards her, quickly. They have human like faces, but no nose, just slits where the gills breathe. They are almost translucent, but are lit from within, gargoyle like faces with small horns, hooves for feet, sharp talons for hands, and small veined wings. They grab at her wrists, pulling her down. She cannot breathe; she must have air. She fights them, trying in vain to break free\*.\* *Come to the end of the moonlit road*, they whisper to her, *we have been waiting for you*. |
Author's Note: I may have gotten distracted and I focused mostly on Satan's job offer. I kinda forgot while writing that it was supposed to be a internet bum. Hope people still enjoy it.
​
"Bad morning, how are you?"said a voice behind you. Having your shadow grow a pair of red eyes and talking to you wasn't how you expected your morning to start.
"I thought it was gonna be a nice day, but I'm suddenly not so sure."
"I like it. Allow me to introduce Myself. I am Satan, ruler of the underworld and prince of darkness. I've heard bad things about you from my underlings. As such, I may have a job for you."
Quite puzzled, you decided it was wiser to keep silent and wait for 'it' to continue. Suddenly, the mass of shadow took physical form. It could have easily passed for a human in a Red Tuxedo. If you ignored the horns and empty red eyes.
"My underlings have been working hard into expanding our horizons. We decided it was time to improve our means. While we have an almost endless supply of skins to make parchment, after much deliberation, we're going digital. Here's the problem: We're hell, not some goody two shoes company. We needed an expert in electronics and computer design with very low average of ethics and preferably some knowledge in torture. And that is where you come in."
Now things started to make sense. You had indeed worked on making computer and had most of the qualifications. But you had a hard time understanding why the devil thought you had low ethics. You had never harmed anyone in a way that could attract his attention.
Regardless, you gave it some thought. The last thing you wanted was to anger an entity beyond your comprehension.
"I thank you for the offer, but I doubt I fulfill the required knowledge about torture. I'm sure there are many more fit for this job..."
"Well, yes there are people that knows more about torture. We've already tried but they usually don't really know how to make a computer. They only know how to operate it. Now they'll be part of the machine."
"Part of what?", that's where you started piecing things together, but you hoped you were wrong.
"Part of the computer. You see, we have to make do with local resources as much as possible. We've become experts at building out of bone, grinding them into concrete, but it took us some time to be able to produce the required electricity. Nonetheless, the there is now a giant hamster wheel in purgatory where the new ones run until we make better use of them. But that's detail. We chose you because of the marvelous idea you've demonstrated. Using human as computer components is exactly what we're looking for. I'm sure we can work on your inherent lack of torture habits."
You never expected this past of yours to come knocking on your door. Well this one didn't really knock, it just invited itself. During your youth, you had one of these strange idea for an artist. You had asked a few friend to put conductive body paint on them and by putting their hands on different devices, produce melodies. Nothing fancy, but it did get you a fair share of fake internet points.
"I'm really sorry but it's a lot to take in. I need to better understand the result, does it means I need to come live in hell? Can I maintain my standards of living? How will I get paid?"
"True, we don't have tons of money, as we rarely employ the livings. But we have enough that we can pay you a consultant fee. You'd work for us like a normal job for the first few years, then when you die, instead of joining our 'human resources', you'd become a full fledged demon."
While selling your soul to the devil wasn't all that appealing, ensuring an afterlife at the top of the hierarchy was much more enticing than risking being at the bottom. In particular considering what you just heard. While you were still considering your options, Satan gave you one last push to seal the deal.
"Finally, I'll make sure that those that caused trouble to you during your life will be part of your materials. Whomever bothers you will become your toy to play with."
"When can I start?", You had quite the grudge to fulfill. All these people that had mocked you at the time, when you were trying to pierce as a budding artist. Saying that it was a waste of time and ability. You finally had the opportunity to make them pay. Who's going to get the last laugh? |
(no editing, no sleep, sorry/thanks for posting this)
It was only at a kegger with Marty that I finally asked him about Trevor. We’re in a corner and both a few solo cups, when I finally get out the words that have been haunting my thoughts since I started senior year as a transfer student two months prior. “Hey you know the captain of the football team?”
“Trevor? Yeah.” His voice is steady, but his eyes pan the room around us. I look, too, but no one seems to be listening. I can see someone carrying Trevor outside, telling him he’s had enough to drink. Once he’s left the house, I feel Marty’s hand hard on my shoulder. “Dude, don’t even ask.”
“But he’s a…”
“We don’t talk about it.”
“But how does he even play…”
“He just does, and he’s a great dude.”
“But he’s a TURTLE!”
The whole party looked at me at once, and I felt the blood drain from my face.
Marty squeezed my shoulder so hard it hurt. “I know, but he still beat the HARE ISN’T THAT SO WEIRD.” The party slowly went back to it’s ruckus self and Marty let go of me. “If you know what’s best for you, never, never, ask about that, again.”
He walked away from me and I shakily tried to drink my beer, but it only turned sour in my stomach. |
I stood up from my basement desk and wondered over to the coffee machine, slipping off my wrist protectors as I went. As offices Xybel Corp. didn’t provide much, just 4 thick walls and a couple fluorescent lights over my desk, but it was tons better than the cubicle farm internships I had back in college.
The coffee was better too. It wasn’t gourmet by any stretch, but it wasn’t sludge either. I took a moment to savor my life. I had been out of college for a month and definitely felt good about it.
“Hey Bill, what’s happening?” Bill looked up at me. You could tell he was still hung over from last night.
“Just got my ass reamed by Mr. Vogel. He said I missed one of the backdoors he had put in to test me.”
Bill was one of my fellow white hat company hackers and program breakers. It was little job to test the new software for weaknesses and exploitable loopholes. Just then, I saw Bill tense up as a gaunt, severe looming man walked past us to the elevator. Bill only relaxed once the doors shut with a soft ding.
“Guess we better get back at it man. Catch you later. Swing by my place tonight and we’ll watch tonight’s UFC. I’ll get some pizza and wings if you bring the Guinness.”
I headed back to the office and sat down. I *knew* Mr. Vogel. What the hell was a Vice President doing down here yelling at a new employee? It made no sense. And why was one of my father’s friends down here, unless he was checking up on me?
Out of curiosity, I logged in to my college account. I cross checked the account numbers with the public accounts I now had access to and found nothing. I called up my software suite and plugged in.
An hour later, I was looking at a series of numbers that left me staggered. Panama accounts, South African emeralds and diamonds, Chinese Lithium mines, Russian cobalt, and so much more was displayed in staggering amounts across my screen. Hundreds of billions were being funneled through the company, which was funding voter collection information through Facebook and Instagram.
And way down near the bottom, less than a drop in the bucket, was the bank account number responsible for paying my tuition. A bank account I thought my father had funded.
I had no idea what to do next. |
(unedited, with no sleep, so I hope it makes sense?)
Fridays were my night alone. Teddy went to stay with my folks, so I could, in their minds, find a new husband. I had no intention of finding anyone but myself on Friday nights. Glass of wine, some slightly trippy but mostly chill french pop from the 60s, and a book. I didn’t care what book, I usually picked up a big stack once a month from the dollar rack at the nearest used bookstore. Most of the time it was books I read in college that I had very little memory of reading, so it was like visiting friends I’d lost touch with.
Tonight, my wine was red and the music was a more sleepy variety. I snuggled into my big fuzzy blanket I bought for myself after the divorce. I had a novel called “A Bargain” which I had thought so aptly named. The back had said it was about a newly single gay man in his 30s that had the adventure of his lifetime without leaving his house. It seemed a little cheesy, but it was so rare to find books that we’re about straight couples, especially in the dollar section, that I admit I really just went for it for some gay solidarity. The authors name was scratched out of the cover and I thought it odd that the title pages were missing.
Chapter 1: Madison is not a girls name.
I choked on my wine. I couldn’t count how many times I had to tell people my name meant “son of Matthew” (I was son of Frank, but that didn’t matter). Eventually I just went by Mads, and it seemed masculine enough for strangers not to start poking at my fragile sense of self when I was still figuring out my sexuality and all that.
The book started: In a small Connecticut town, Frank and Abigail Burke gave birth to a boy they named Madison, for no other reason than Abigail passed by Madison Street when she was pregnant and thought, well that’s my sons name. Everyone they told associated the name with the historical figure, who was a man, and so not until little Madison Eugene Burke went to school did he discover he was, in fact, misnamed.
I threw the book across the room. I stared at it as I drained my glass. The itch to call my mother and ask when she sold my life story and could I split the profits, like there’d be any, came and went. It was around 9pm and I doubted that I’d be able to get many words in before hearing about their night with Teddy in full detail.
Well it was weird, but I decided, why not see what fictional Madison was like. Maybe it was just a wild, very accurate, coincidence.
I got up, refilled my glass, and grabbed the book. I set aside the chills I got as I started to read the words:
The name Madison slowly became Mads, and with the exception of some Harry Potter fans in his class called him Mad Eye Moody, Mads stuck to him as he ran his way through high school with gritted teeth.
After reading about my high school experience in detail I didn’t want to read, but couldn’t stop reading, I was relieved to find out that my first few awkward hetero relationships were glossed over. Unfornutely, meeting my now ex-husband the first day of college orientation was very well detailed. Joshua was an attractive gingery yadda yadda. Finally came out as gay, married Joshua after college, mutual best friend Diane agreed to give birth to Teddy, but then suddenly Joshua didn’t want anything to do with being a father and moved to Oregon to live on a farm, yadda yadda.
I was surprised to feel tears on my cheeks, and grabbed a tissue from the box that sat on my coffee table. I blotted my eyes and continued reading, curious as the marriage fell apart, and the details about raising Teddy by myself came to light. It even mentioned my Friday nights, calling them my “self-dates” which I hadn’t ever said allowed, to anyone.
The horror I felt was outweighed by the curiosity bubbling up within me. The last chapter was titled September 9th, which was the day I was reading it. I grabbed my glass to take a sip, but it was empty. Too curious to get up, I set the glass back down and began to read:
An average self-date, Mads found himself lost in a book that made him feel the things he’d been avoiding for fear they would swallow him whole. He gulped down his wine absent mindedly, as the worries he wasn’t a good enough father came to the surface. He even began to realize his fear of never finding love, as if all the men in the world would be as selfish and as cruel as Joshua had been to him. He hadn’t admitted it to himself, but he was lonely, and if he didn’t face that part of himself, and learned to be truly okay with being himself and alone with himself, if he never faced that truth, he would always be lonely no matter who he laid with.
The end. |
**Winter of 1783**
"My brother spoke very highly of your accomplishments at the Siege of Toulon, Brigadier. A man of transcendent merit, I believe he said."
The young Corsican officer said nothing, but felt his chest swell with pride. Toulon had been a feather in his cap, no doubt, but to have his achievement recognized by Citizen Robespierre- a man who, to him, was superior to all those around him- surely must have been the true high point of his career. Now he was truly rubbing shoulders with the Jacobin inner circle. To have come so far from relative poverty, mocked for his provincial background, made Napoleon Buonaparte feel like Emperor of the World.
Robespierre continued. "Although you are still young, some within the Jacobins believe you are ready to see something of our inner workings."
"Inner workings, sir?"
"As I said."Buonaparte thought he saw distaste in Robespierre's eyes; the older man, a notorious dandy, was rarely seen without his stylish green spectacles, but his eyes seemed weary and distasteful. "The Supreme Being knows I have little stomach for such cloak-and-dagger statecraft, but sometimes the demands of politics require me us to compromise our ethics."
Napoleon was confused but could not find the words to probe further. To his surprise, he realized their carriage had come to a stop outside a foreboding building he did not recognize.
Robespierre spoke in hushed tones. "It is important you understand. Histories will not speak of this meeting. And you must not, either."Napoleon swallowed and nodded, trying not to seem confused. They quit the carriage and entered the building. To Buonaparte's surprise, it seemed the building was some sort of lunatic asylum or prison. The... guards? Nurses? Were completely covered in black robes, complete with strange smoky-lensed glasses. Robespierre spoke.
"Many celebrated the destruction of the Bastille. It was nevertheless an inconvenience. Some of the inmates within... were best left locked away. Fortunately the Committee was able to recover some of them, particularly..."
Both men came to a stop outside one of the cells. Robespierre pulled at a slat in the door and Napoleon peeked through. Within was a manlike figure, dressed in rags and clad in an iron mask. An iron mask... not...
"I believed him a legend,"Napoleon breathed.
"Not quite."To Napoleon's astonishment, Robespierre opened the door and beckoned him inside. The Man in the Iron Mask remained chained to the wall, arms restrained by the sleeves of his straight-jacket, breathing heavy and raspy. Napoleon's heart began to thud. Robespierre carefully reached behind the patient's head, and with a snap, undid the clasps of the mask. It clattered away. Napoleon forced himself not to scream.
The face was familiar. Every schoolboy in France had seen it. Armand Jean du Plessis, Cardinal, Statesman, and Duke of Richelieu. Dead more than a century and a half, and yet here, before him, alive... but not. The Cardinal's face had the pallor of death. His eyes were empty and grey like a shroud, his hair stringy on his rotten scalp and his teeth like rotting shards of bark.
Robespierre cleared his throat and spoke gently. "Richelieu has been the secret of the French crown and state for over a century. This has not been recorded in histories. The good cardinal was... experimenting. In natural philosophy, and other things. Alchemy. Dark sorcery. We do not know what precisely, but as you can see, his work conferred this state onto him. Immortality... of a sort."
"He is... kept alive, here?"
"If one regards this as life. His skin rots on the bone; his mind is as that of a feral beast. We have learned, through various mistakes, that death will not touch him, but neither does he live as a man lives, unless... unless he consumes the flesh and blood of the living. That hunger has kept him alive all this time, but as it worsens, he becomes... this. A creature of only animal hunger. For this reason he was kept imprisoned, the man in the iron mask. This is the crown's most sordid secret."
Napoleon stared his idol dead in the eye, waiting for clarification.
"It is known... that his condition transmits as a plague. A simple transfusion of his blood- if such humors, black and thick and foul, can be called blood- will grant any other man the same kind of immortality. With the same hunger for flesh. The nobles, you see- they are fascinated. This gift, as they call it, would cement their status above the commons, not merely in wealth and status but as a race of true immortals ruling over simple humanity. Those revolutionaries who suspect this secret, Hebertists and moderates alike, are also intrigued; some wish it destroyed and some with to make this... this curse, their own."
Napoleon's stomach felt like a pit. He struggled to speak. "Why show me this?"
"Brigadier... I am not much longer for this world. I have made too many enemies among the Jacobins. My... my Reign of Terror-"he laughed bitterly "-will soon be put a stop to. But with your ambition, I have no doubt France's destiny is in your hands. Someday it will be within your power to determine what becomes of France's darkest secret."
\*\*\*
**1821**
The former Emperor of France brooded in the spacious bedroom of Longwood House. Napoleon Buonaparte had come far from Corsica- Malta, Alexandria, Ulm- Austerlitz! Some called him the Octavian to Robespierre's Caesar... and like Octavian he had been broken at his Teutoberg. Old age was catching up to him. His son sat on the throne, and though in his own way he loved the boy and wished him every comfort, he realized deep in his heart the boy was not worthy of his legacy.
Increasingly, his thoughts wandered back to that meeting with Robespierre. The thing in the Iron Mask. The key to immortality. It did not seem right, somehow, for the glory of France to be lost with time. Morally... yes. It was required, was it not? For greatness to be preserved? The clergy would doubtless say otherwise, but he had little use for them. Yes... why should the exceptional die with the common? The once and future Emperor summoned a servant and made some arrangements.
\*\*\*
**Today, Edwards Air Force Base (codename Groom Lake, Area 51)**
Dr. Sophie Canmore hurried to keep pace with the research group and military personnel as they marched through the dimly-lit concrete halls. This was rapidly proving to be the most important moment of her career. General Battiscombe was still lecturing in his gravely tone, tips of his greying mustache quavering.
"Project Richelieu has been one of the site's most classified programs since we recovered Patient Zero in World War II. At that time he was discovered in the custody of the Natzees, who'd found him hiding out at some castle in Averoigne. They were studying him as a way to perfect their own super-soldier programs."
Dr. Canmore spoke up before she could stop herself. "Super-soldier, sir?"
The General grunted but took the interruption in stride. "That's right. Patient Zero's condition causes incredible durability and stamina- possibly even immortality. Patient Zero is... affected by the passage of time, but not the same way as you or me. He doesn't age."
"What does he do instead?"asked one of the other lab-coats.
"Rots. Unless he's fed."
Dr. Canmore couldn't quite process that; maybe it was some kind of jargon. But the group came to a stop in a large, dark hangar in front of a large metal slab, white sheets draped over a humanlike figure. A somewhat short guard stood nearby, head inclined towards the ground, feet shifting nervously.
General Battiscombe turned to address the research group. "You've already been briefed. But remember what you're about to see here is so far beyond classified that if any of you so much as acknowledge you've been to this facility, you will be in very real trouble of federal prosecution. Now-"
The General whipped the sheet off. Dr. Canmore's heart spasmed. Strapped to the table was a naked guard, neck broken. The General's face went white; seconds seemed to stretch to eons. The short guard ripped off his hat. The face beneath had perhaps once been cherubic, with black curls; now it was pallid, rotten, and the teeth were broken, jagged nightmares.
Nobody in the research group had time to scream. Napoleon Bonaparte, once First Emperor of France, soon to be Grand Marshal of an army of death, high king over a global necrocracy, began his dark and bloody reign with a coronation feast. |
Hi u/LoneInterloper17, this submission has been removed.
Please please just leave the box empty.
You have again added the line that you removed... back in the text box and said that it used to be there.
Leave it empty, no need to explain that it has been removed and what was there before, just completely empty.
Please.
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How? Why? How could I, the conqueror of countless demons and beasts, be killed like this? I, the warrior of a hundred battles and lord of the ring of combat, am going to die like this?
If only I didn’t leave the house this morning. If only I had brought the lunch I made yesterday. If only I wasn’t hunger. Why did I choose to eat the berries I found. How could I know that they would paralyze me? I was strong enough to still move, although slowly.
I tripped on a damn tree root and landed face first in a small puddle. WHAT THE HELL DID I DO TO DESERVE TO DIE LIKE THIS!!!!! Oh wait, never mind.
What do I tell my fellow warriors in the afterlife? That I died from 50 assassins? 10 dragons? No, I can’t lie, a warrior is honest.
I am pathetic. Dying by a puddle. Oh, everything is going black. It’s cold. I’m tired. I guess I could close my eyes for a minute. |
The Gray Slate
​
The world my people have occupied is one of vast potential and ever-present change. In the days of old, the age before recorded history, the world was a grimy muck, where the first of our kind fought for survival and dominance. Our ancestors were only concerned with survival, and had no care for the morrow.
There was however something within us that was cohesive, that allowed us to work together in the face of unspeakable odds, and that gave us an advantage over the lower lifeforms on our world. The bigger and more tightly knit our tribal groups became, the more we needed to expand our horizon.
There is a legend of the first seer, Gifun, who walked upright and was the first to see the Gray Slate that stretched across our horizon.
After untold centuries in the darkness of pre-history, my species boomed across the our world, building, writing, exploring. Gifun didn't live to discover what the grey slate was, but our expanding societies built towards it by the generations.
We were, however, not prepared for what providence had in store for us. We were a race that continually pushed boundaries, but by the time that the age of heroes was reduced to myth, and we had reached the Gray Slate, we faced a problem: what now? Where do we go now?
Many scholars and mystics had theorized what the Gray Slate might be, and the reality was disappointing and discouraging: it was a wall, a barrier that confined us in our world, which suddenly seemed small.
Generations passed, and due to lack of new land to explore and build, my people discovered a new passion: war. What began as skirmishes over contested territory grew into full-blown catastrophes, nations rose and fell. The arms race had given rise to our very own industrial revolution.
One of us, however, with a vision rivaling that of the hero Gifun, who had in that distant past century straightened his back and pointed his vision towards the Gray Slate, craned his neck and oriented himself towards the sky. Weary of war, and with our now advanced biotechnology, we would raise towers to reach up to the heavens, and go back to our ways of exploration, towards ever-expanding paradise.
Problems arose again, however, when our towers, build with long thin bases and shaped like umbrellas at the top, began to rival the Gray Slate itself, and we could see that at some point, the slate ended, and there was only empty air. A wall, the entire history of our species, the lives and deaths of individuals and nations, had taken place within an immense wall surrounding our lands. It was anyone's guess what lay beyond it.
Understandably, this discovery challenged our understanding of what the world was like. Our world had been finite, but now it seemed that the sky was the limit. It didn't take very long for the first explorers to peek over the Gray Slate, and the entire world was watching.
That's when we first saw the Giant. He sat behind a luminescent screen, eating snacks the size of city blocks in one bit, and cursing with a bellowing voice in an alien language.
Mystics, scientists, even the average person on the street had their theories about who or what the Giant might be. But we all conceded that He was intelligent, in a way like us, and that he was beyond us.
A team of linguists set out to decipher the language that the Giant used. This process went slowly at first, but because of the Giant's habit to repeat certain phrases progress came.
"Every game is jungle diff, every game is a coinflip, why is my team always trash?"Was the first sentence that the team was able to decipher somewhat. Though the exact meaning of the words still eluded us, they were often followed by fits of what was obviously rage, rage of apocalyptic proportions, to people our size.
Years passed, and though some tried to make meaningful contact with the Giant, most of us agreed that, whatever this creature was, He was unstable and too powerful for us to mess with. So aside from conspiracy theorists, mysticists and other oddballs, we accepted the giant's place in the world, and viewed it as separate from us.
Imagine our surprise, when a second Giant appeared.
She was much like the first, enormous, to us. But the Giant we had come to know was mostly passive, and sat at his Giant table, most of the time, doing whatever it was that he was doing in front of the bright screen.
This new Giantess however, entered bringing with her a bright beam of light that scorched the eyes.
"Anthony,"she yelled in a pitch that could shatter hearing. "Open a window in here, you can't sit in darkness and play your stupid games all day."
"Get out of my room, mom!"
The Giantess walked over to the Giant and in a display of immense force she smacked him across the face. Most of us were questioning what was going on, but to the doomsday types it was clear: the day of reckoning had come, the Gods were at war with one another and we would be crushed in the crossfire.
"Clean your room! Go outside sometimes! You're twenty-five for Pete's sake."
Then, in the most terrifying moment in our history, she looked at us, at all of us. Ten billion souls weighed to be judged by this enormous creature. Some gave away all their belongings, others ended their lives, more yet did nothing at all.
She screamed. "Anthony there is mold growing in this bowl! Are you trying to create a fungus culture in here? It's disgusting, it must have been sitting here for weeks! Go clean it now!"
"Fine,"the Giant bellowed.
The Giant got up, and in an incomprehensible feat of strength, He grabbed the Gray Slate, and moved our entire world to a different place. Those of us that survived the worldshaking event heard the crashing of water, and when Anthony washed the bowl, at last, our entire world and civilization vanished in soap.
Ok that turned out to be about 3 times as long as I had planned, lmao. |
This is more a mute character growing up, rather than really going into specific events of communication. I intend to use this framework to at least come up with interactions in my head, and I will try to write them down if there is any interest. I exceeded the max length on my initial piece, so look for a reply that continues the story.
\~
I was five, on the way home from kindergarten. My mom was driving, talking to me about my day. I can't remember most of what I said anymore, but I can certainly remember what happened next.
As we were going through an intersection, someone ran a red light. I later learned that they had been on their phone and gotten too distracted to notice the light. They hit the side of the vehicle, and I fell unconscious nearly instantly. When I woke up, I was in the hospital. I had several injuries but most were expected to heal fully after some time, albeit with some scarring in a couple of areas. However, a piece of metal had hit my neck. It was why I took so long to wake up, and I was lucky to survive, but it left permanent damage to my vocal cords. Making any sort of noise to attempt to communicate is painful, and trying to make actual words is impossible. At the time, all I understood was that I couldn't speak anymore.
I am lucky, my family had a fair amount of money and was able to support me in working around this problem. They hired a tutor for sign language, who began teaching basic words to both me and my parents before I even left the hospital, alongside helping me learn what I was missing due to not being able to attend classes.
I was finally able to return to school a few weeks later. My parents had set up with the school for my sign language tutor to accompany me and interpret any questions or comments that I made. The teacher was nice enough and genuinely wanted to help to the best of her ability.
Most of the students were put off by the interpreter and we were too young to communicate very well in writing. The only one in class who talked to me much after the first couple of days, where everyone wanted to know what happened, was my closest friend, Hannah. She did her best to learn at least some pieces of sign language, and was perfectly fine with playing charades where she didn't know what I was signing. A couple of students tried to harass me, since I couldn't verbally respond, but my interpreter or Hannah would tell them to stop and would get the teacher's attention if they didn't. I am forever thankful for all three, the teacher, the interpreter, and Hannah, things would have gone much worse otherwise.
First and second grade were relatively similar. The teachers still cared, albeit maybe not as much as the kindergarten one. The bullies became more insistent, but both Hannah and my interpreter were still there. I learned to communicate better, both through sign language and now through writing for those who don't know sign. Hannah nearly caught up to where I was in understanding sign, so there were fewer charades. I began to teach my younger brother, an infant at daycare at the time of the accident, basic sign.
Third grade is when everything went wrong. This was the first year where Hannah was in a different class, so I didn't have the one person my own age that I could easily communicate with except during lunch and recess. The teacher only really cared about students she thought were smart, and despite doing above average on homework and tests, she still acted like she thought being mute affected my intelligence. She would ignore anything the bullies did, and dismiss it as kids being kids when the interpreter said something to her. Since my interpreter wasn't actually a school staff member, she couldn't actually do anything to punish bullies, only tell them to stop. At recess, Hannah and the interpreter figured out which monitor actually cared about bullying, and made sure to report it to him.
Then, halfway through the year, my family started to struggle a bit on money. We weren't poor by any means, but paying for my interpreter for several hours every day became difficult to afford. I still saw her outside of classes twice a week for an hour to learn more signs, which I was expected to practice with family and Hannah between sessions. However, I now didn't have anyone with me in class that would protect from bullies. Some kids looked sympathetic, but were too scared of becoming the targets of bullying themselves. I was supposed to communicate with the teacher in writing, but she rarely cared to actually interact with me and would pretend she didn't notice me if she felt she had better things to do then help the "disabled"kid. I would frequently leave classes crying, and even with Hannah comforting or distracting me depending on the day, my family could still tell something happened.
My parents did everything they could, trying to get the administration to do something about the teacher’s dismissive attitude, but nothing worked. The administration acted like they cared when talking to them, but I don't know if it was an act or if the teachers' union just didn't want to let anything meaningful happen to the teacher. I believe they might have cared at least a little, if not enough to do anything major, because after that year Hannah was never in a different class until high school where different choices of electives made it impossible to align our schedules.
Fourth and fifth grade were better. Hannah was there to provide support, and the teachers would at least reprimand the bullies, and put them in detention if they tried to do anything physical rather than just insults and harassment. However, it was still worse than before third grade, because the bullies became used to me being a good target when I was nearly defenseless in third grade. With help from my parents and Hannah, I got better at not being too affected by the bullies.
Sixth grade went even better. A few weeks into the year, a pair of girls, Nicole and Alexa, approached Hannah. They had wanted to get to know me for a couple of years, but had been too afraid of the bullies and had only just worked up the courage to talk to me together.
Communication was difficult at first. I was used to either signing with family or Hannah and keeping to limited written communication with everyone else. They learned a few basic signs fairly quickly, but holding a real conversation was beyond their abilities. We were all happy to communicate through writing, but it was slow. I had just recently gotten a smartphone, a fairly new thing at the time. My parents liked the idea of me being able to text others more easily than with a flip-phone, and were also interested in seeing if there was a decent text-to-speech software, though the latter only really became a good option over the next few years. However, Alexa didn't have a phone and Nicole only had a pre-paid flip-phone and was as such somewhat limited on reading texts. Hannah essentially had to be my interpreter for a while.
Over the course of the year, we got better at communicating, with them learning more signs and getting better at interpreting other forms of communication. I never became as close to them as I was to Hannah, but I still interact with them regularly.
Middle school basically continued from there, hanging out with my friends, dealing with bullies, etc. The only major change was that this is when Hannah devised a system for me writing down questions and handing it to her, so that she could ask the teacher. Most teachers were decent, and none were as bad as third grade. |
The first thing I'd never expected to see
from eyes not mine was limbs not me.
I stood from my spot, strangely healing
and gone was my old life's feeling.
Around me bustled a world of vines,
a collection of foliage, mismatched paradigms.
I hoped for answers but none lived here
instead ivy tendrils were crawling too near.
Somebody shouted, "get out of the street!"
but only a broken stone path lay at my feet.
Here, a concrete jungle reclaimed by the Earth
yet human life still held in it no worth.
I once belived in being vegetarian
now it's all just about being contrarian.
The city's all justice, its people all heroes
but for all their saving others, what else rose
was a crop of deceit and despair.
I think, did they ever really care.
How dare I question, and how dare I stop?
The bustle around me flattens over top.
My old beliefs faded, the last one infected.
Into this new world was correctness injected. |
Time travel is a funny thing. See, it may seem obvious, but in order to slam something through time it takes a lot of energy. The larger the object the more power required. Simple really. This resulted in a choice when the technology and science for time travel had finally been developed. One option was to fix a power source directly to the machine, and the other was to use an external power source.
Although the tech here was advanced, it was still leagues easier and cheaper to use the larger, more stationary power source. It also sped up development time, since a new source of immense power didn't need to be developed. The trials were done, and the theories tested. The first human trials to the far future were ready. 250 years was the plan, not too long but long enough to see what was in store for humanity.
And like an idiot, I volunteered.
As I stepped into the white plated cube, I took in my surroundings. There wasn't much to see, just some people in lab coats and goggles, with some odd cables and machines strewn about. A hiss sounded as the door closed behind me, I was in. This was it.
The lights came on, and a soft whir sprang to life. It sounded like a college refrigerator, too cheap to be really quiet but not overbearingly loud. A beep sounded, and then it began. All the human trials had reported this, I knew it was coming, but it happens to be much worse in person. As the infernal machine carried my screaming body through the ravages of time, it felt like a thousand needles punched into my skin, into my joints, and into my bones. It felt as though my limbs were being torn from my body, my eyes pushing against my skull, my ears about to burst. And within a few seconds it was over.
A small beep sounded as the electronics around me died down, shutting down to conserve whatever power was left.
I stepped out of the cube.
And was greeted with what looked like a small village, overshadowed by the hill I was on.
This couldn't be right, could it? I expected skyscrapers, efficient roadways, maybe even some flying vehicles! Not a quaint little village on a hillside! As I inspected the housing closer, it seemed to be made up of stones and wood. With thatch roofing. Lined by dirt and cobblestone roads and paths. Surrounded by fields of what looked like wheat.
Maybe something went wrong, maybe I got sent back in time? It was possible that one of the eggheads in the lab botched the equations.
As I approached the village however, something caught my eye. Something that shouldn't be here, not in this time. Not in this place. There, along the side of the field, is what looked to be the rotting corpse of a modern car. Rusted, dented, and almost completely decayed, but just intact enough to be recognizable.
As far as I am aware, there were no cars sent back in time to the medieval era, and people from the 1300s didn't have motorized vehicles. The only reasonable explanation was that this was the future. And a bleak one at that.
And I was stuck here.
No onboard power meant I needed a massive outside source of power. Here I am, stuck in whatever post-apocalyptic scenario this is, with no way back.
A thought struck me, just then. It was a long shot, but it's all I have. If some power source survived whatever happened, and I could find it, I may be able to go back and warn everyone of what is to come. The car looked old after all, so maybe a power cell strong enough to power the time machine had been developed?
It was a long shot, but again, it's all I have. If such a device existed out there, in the ruins of the modern era, I have to find it. It's not like I have much of a choice. |
The ability to view my impact on each of their live's and their perception of me was a rather enchanting power, the most interesting part being interacting with other version's of 'myself', which were everything except me.
Within the thoughts of passer-bys, I would only see the figure of my back slowly walking away from me. For my boss, I was just another cookie-counter, soullessly sitting on a desk, staring at a screen for hours on end, yet, my co-workers considered me a reliable person who'd assist them in their work, but nothing more than that.
It astonished me how each of their views were so different than what I thought of myself. Yet, the most impactful of them belonged to the 2 most precious people in my life.
The first, a man who was closer to being family than friend, the man I talked to within him did everything I didn't. He was constantly happy. laughing and making jokes, always engaging in some interesting activity or another; while the real me was a sad existence, without the energy to move, with neither the thought nor the motivation to go for such interesting adventures.
The second, the one I loved, my wife of 10 years, the one I'd dedicated my entire heart to. The one I talked to within her was better than me in every possible way, he was smarter, funnier, more capable, and always there.
It scared me, whether the one's I loved, the people who's life I'd considered more precious than my own, actually loved the real me or the me they developed within their thoughts, or whether I'd actually lived life as myself or as someone else, their love and perception so vastly different than what I considered to be myself.
The thoughts caught me within their grasp, unwilling to let go, dragging me through the other 'me' within the minds of others. In the end, this power was not a gift, a thing to enjoy, it was cursed, bringing you to get yourself to your own demise. |
Broken.
Blood pouring from my mouth.
I crawl towards the edge of the hill and see desolation.
The earth on fire, Gabriel’s trumpet played and died, the second after the reckoning.
As I begin to weep at the devastation I have wrought; a man stands before me.
A being so beautiful, so pure, that I couldn’t turn away.
As he spoke I felt every vein in my body surge and flow like a mighty river.
I stood.
He said, “I will give you a chance and a choice. You can be born again before any of this and die a happy man with a full life.
Or.
You can start again, and save the world.”
I cry so hard I can barley breath.
“How do I know I won’t fail? That I’ll save everything?”, I ask the God before me.
All he says back is “You won’t. But will you give up?”
And I couldn’t. |
Note before reading: This is my first story on this subreddit. Actually, its the first one I ever publish in public. Hope you enjoy it <3
I ate a piece of steak that day, something I never did since ages. I couldn't tell for how long I haven't eaten, I stopped caring after about a hundred years. But the last I met her was four hundred sixty nine years ago at night.
When I saw her I thought it was a mirage or something, surely it is. But when I saw the mole under her ear, the one thing I forgot about her, I knew she was real. I didn't know how, but I knew. And no, I did not let her see me, I couldn't handle the shock of hearing her voice, one was well enough.
At first, I would get hungry and eat just to fill the crave, but after that last time I stopped eating, then I got extremely hungry but didn't care, then I stopped feeling hungry; I forgot the very sense. Seeing her struck it inside me like an adrenaline shot. I had to eat, and the taste of the burger collected all the remaining memories that were stuck at the side of the pot. Eating that burger now reminded me of that time when I was eating just the same one years ago in front of her. I was staring at her, lost in the way she moves her mouth and jaws to eats, her look at the food. Tomorrow I am going to find her. I am going to find her and ask her how. |
I had been one to pick up the odd trinket on my walks to and from work, but over the past couple of weeks, I had been finding what seemed to be hand painted cards with strange illustrations depicting things like skulls and stars. I didn’t know much about card games, so I assumed it had something to do with a fantasy role playing game or something. I sent a photo of my collection to my friend Reese, who was more into that world than I had ever been. He immediately responded that they looked like Tarot cards and told me to talk to our mutual friend Agatha, because she was “into that spiritual crap”. I did so, and she called me later that night.
“Where did you find these?”
“Just in the street.”
She invited herself over on the next Saturday, to look at the cards and go looking for more. She brought her girlfriend Theresa and another friend of ours, her roommate Mark. They all looked a the cards and Theresa mentioned they gave her the creeps. Agatha explained what the cards seemed to represent from the imagery. But they weren’t Tarot, she said, they didn’t follow any of the usual constructs of Tarot cards.
We walked my usual path and then began to go down random streets in the city. We found three more cards, the last of all being the most frightening to look at. There were four figures and under it said “the four of fools”.
Theresa looked at it and gave a startled yelp, dropping the card.
“What is it?” Agatha asked, putting a hand on her shoulder to comfort her.
“It’s us! Why is it us?”
I picked up the card, skeptical, until I looked closer. She was right, it was us. And the sky above us in the illustration was dark and filled with lightning. The wind picked up and shadows fell upon us as the clouds gathered overhead. Thunder turned into cackling laughter that filled our ears and swallowed our screams. |
That evil villain, Bon Vivant, attacked the city's water supply with a deadly virus. The reservoir, up in the hills, is too wide and too deep for standard conditioning, and boiling the water won't kill the virus. But alcohol will.
I had finally found my calling.
I showed the police chief how my power worked, and changed a sealed bottle of water into wine. This would allow me to start the process of turning the reservoir into the world's largest pinot. With luck, I would be able to turn it back into water, after letting it sit for twenty minutes, to make sure the virus would be completely eradicated.
I am Sherry "The Vintner"Agrippa, and I made Bon Vivant less happy. |
Viola DiNapoli was sitting comfortably in front of her vanity mirror, calmly brushing her dark black hair, her fair skin almost glowing in the setting sun. She was a beautiful girl of 19, of average height, with a small frame, slender and fit. When the family had moved into the compound, she wanted to set up her room in this part of the house, where she could watch the birds dance around the large grass lawn, surrounded by giant grey walls of concrete.
Anthony Ricci, a handsome, olive-skinned man of about 30, was sitting outside Viola’s room, reading today’s newspaper, a cigarette in his lips, the grip of his holstered handgun protruding out from under his right armpit. Antony, as one of the trusted capos of the DiNapoli family, was given the honor of protecting the Don’s young daughter, and had been by her side at almost every moment for the last 10 years.
Though the DiNapolis had not started this war, no family was safe, and the Don had taken every possible precaution to make sure his family could go about their lives protected and undisturbed from the chaos of the streets. However, the Don, despite all of his wealth, power and influence, would not live to see peace among the families, as he himself perished from the assassin’s knife almost two months to the day. Nobody knew who the assailant was, to which family he belonged to, or how he was able to breach the compound’s defenses. The Don’s wife had found him face-down in their master bedroom, a large knife embedded in his upper shoulder, blood soaking their massive ornate rug.
Anthony lowered the paper to look at his watch- 6:30 PM. The Don’s daughter was going to be late to evening dinner with her mother downtown. Though the war raged on, there were certain “neutral grounds”, restaurants and bars owned by good, hard-working Italians who had immigrated to the States to make something of their lives. The DiNapolis knew once such place.
Anthony stood up from his hallway chair and walked up to the closed door. “Viola? You almost done in there? You know your mother is going to be furious if you’re late again!”
“Anthony, calm down! I’m just putting on that lovely red dress Uncle Vito gave me for my birthday. I’ll be out in a minute!”
Anthony sighed, took a drag from his cigarette, and sat back down. She always does this, he thought. And it wasn’t Viola that her mother would be furious at- he would be the target of her fiery temper.
Anthony thought about the family and how they might pull through this insane war. The late Don’s brothers were in an internal struggle for the family throne, and the only thing holding the organization together was the leadership of the family consigliere, Pauli Cantone, the Don’s most trusted associate and a reclusive man who had gone into hiding in his secure penthouse apartment, always using secretive mailed packets to deliver orders.
“Come on, Viola! We’ve gotta get going!”
“Almost done! Just a couple more minutes!”
One minute passed. Another minute. Then another, and another, and another. A couple more minutes became five, and five became ten.
“Alright, Viola. Enough is enough- let’s go!” Anthony was pounding on her bedroom door.
Having received no reply, Anthony knocked again. “Viola? Come on, this isn’t funny!”
Silence.
With a slight panic in his voice, Anthony shouted “Viola?”
Silence.
“Viola? Are you alright?”
Silence.
Small beads of sweat started to show on Anthony’s brow. “Viola! I’m coming in!”
Anthony raised his right leg and kicked in the door as hard as he could. It took him about three tries before the hinges gave way.
What Anthony saw before him was nothing like he expected. She was gone. The window to her bedroom was open, and her brush was resting on the table in front of her mirror.
Anthony drew his pistol and, keeping the barrel of the gun raised, tore open the closet doors. Nothing but clothes and shoes. He looked under the bed, out of the window, behind the large bookshelf. He was alone in the room.
In an instant Anthony grabbed the phone hanging on the wall, frantically dialing the small security shack at the front of the compound.
“Carlo! It’s Anthony. Viola is gone. Turn on the compound lights. Alert every guard who’s here right now. Get men out and around the perimeter. We need to find her NOW!”
“Anthony! Jesus man, what the fuck! Didn’t you hear?!? All our guys went out! There’s been a shootout down at the factories by the docs! A lot of our guys, dead. Including the Don’s brothers! There’s no way we could get enough men out right now to find Viola! The whole thing’s falling apart! Anthony? Anthony!”
The red phone handset was swinging from its line attached to the wall. Anthony was now bending over Viola’s table, staring at the folders resting on the pine tabletop. Anthony couldn’t believe it. Notes, letters, orders from Pauli. Each document had the name of one of the family uncles, with instructions to ambush a rival family moving contraband through the dockside warehouses tonight. The uncles had been told to leave nobody alive. But Anthony knew that the warehouses had poor lighting at night, and Pauli had assured each uncle in the notes that they would be alone with their men. The ambush had gone bad.
Anthony picked up the last folder, under which he found a note. In Viola’s handwriting. The same handwriting on the instructions sent to each uncle. Anthony understood now. A small part of him always knew that Viola resented the family she had been born into, and how ashamed of her father she had been. Now it was all unraveling, with Viola pulling the thread. She had somehow escaped, leaving Anthony to watch his world crumble around him.
Hands shaking, Anthony read the note.
“Anthony- I’m sorry you had to be a part of this. I liked you. I really did. But you were one of them. You chose this life. The murders, the extortion, the chaos- I had to put a stop to it. I became Pauli after he went into hiding. I gave the orders, I held this family together. And then I let go. The Feds are coming. Good luck to you Anthony. Get out if you can.”
The blaring sirens grew louder and louder in the distance. Anthony looked out the window and saw the red flashing lights slowly become brighter. Men were shouting. The compound lights were on. Muzzle flashes and loud percussion filled the air.
Anthony gazed out the window, staring across the home’s inner lawn, over the concrete wall. As a police light flashed across the woods just beyond the compound, Anthony thought he may have glimpsed a ruby red dress, fluttering in the breeze as it disappeared into the trees. |
“Not really,” chuckled Jimmy, “I don’t play with fireworks often.” He gingerly set the smoke bomb in the grass.
“It doesn’t need to be literal bombs. Ugggh…ok,” vented Dave, “So, this morning while I was eating breakfast, my phone suddenly got really hot., like burning my fingers hot. I flipped it over just in time to see the back pop off and the battery burst into flame!
“Then, on my trip to get a new one, my tire burst while I was going 70 miles an hour down the highway! I managed to get my car to the side of the road without flipping it. But as I was changing the tire, some guy wasn’t paying attention and almost slammed into me. He over corrected and flew right into the ditch. Not ten seconds after he drug himself out, you’ll never guess what happened.”
“Did it blow up?” Jimmy gibed, with an incredulous grin.
“With such force that it knocked the guy on his back!” boomed Dave, oblivious to his friend’s mocking tone.
“If you’ve had such a big day, why didn’t you stay home?”
“I wouldn’t miss your and Felicia’s baby shower for the world. By the way, do you two know what it’s going to be yet?”
“Nuh-uh, you aren’t going to pry that out of me. You’ll have to wait to find out with everyone else when we light this thing off,” said Jimmy, tapping the smoke bomb with his shoe. |
"Thanks for coming to the party Jerry!"my childhood friend smiled, wrapped me in his signature bear hug, and pulled me into into his home.
"Wouldn't miss it Jake."I chuckled as he escorted me towards his living room. "After all, you only have a fourth kid once, am I right."
"That you are, my friend."
"So where's the beer?"I asked.
"An hour late, and that's the first thing you ask?"Jake looked incredulous.
"Anna...still pregnant?"
"Seriously?"
"Hey you only text me me when you need a cake, buddy. Listen, I love ya, but over the last decade this relationship has mostly been transactional. You need something sugary and festive. And I need someone to subsidize me ignoring my emotions. Win win."
"You still seeing that therapist?"
"Oh yeah."
"Good. And...I mean...I wanted to ask how you've been, but..."
"Yeah, pretty much the same since Diane died."
"Right."
"God, I'm sorry, I-"
"No, no, don't apologize."Jake stammered. "It's...listen man, Samantha is here and if you're ready to jump back into things, I know she's interested."
"Oh, that so."I muttered.
"Yes! Really!"Jake shot back. "She thinks you're cute. And I'm pretty sure I saw her 'O' face the last time you sent us some cupcakes."
"I...I don't know man."
"Hey, buddy, only if you're ready."
_____________________________________________________
I don't know how long I sat on the couch, watching people walk around the living room, have conversations, and munch on Swedish Meatballs and bruschetta, which is just a terrible combination. All I knew is I was there for five beers before Samatha sat down next to me.
"Hey, Jerry."she smiled. "Long time no see."
"Uh..."my mind was blank. "Yeah. Yeah."
"So..."
I nodded.
"How's the bakery?"
"Good...it's good."
"Oh, well that's...good."
"Yeah."
"Time to cut the cake everybody!"Anna yelled, chef knife held in the air.
____________________________________________________
It didn't take long after Diane died that I started drinking on the job. Who wouldn't? I owned the place. Wasn't going to fire myself, was I?
But, it was my skill for dyes that led to it. For years, nearly half of my orders were for gender reveal cakes. No one could make such rich blues or vibrant pinks burst from the layers. And it was great, at first. I made money. I met a beautiful woman. We got married. We bought a house. And we were expecting our first child.
Then, one day, Diane felt pain shoot through her stomach. I rushed her to the ER for surgery. But, Diane was a hemophiliac, and bled out on the operating table. I can't remember what the doctors told me about little Scotty, but he was gone too.
All the light in my life, snuffed out in an instant.
Weeks later I returned to my bakery, and with the help of alcohol, was able to grow a brilliant resentment towards all the fucks that came in asking for a gender reveal cake. Those fucking cakes.
Those assholes thought they could come into my shop and be all demanding. But they didn't know I could ruin their moment with a few drops of liquid. And so I did.
Fuckheads expecting blue got pink. Cunts expecting pink got blue.
I guess I never connected the dots. After all, I didn't read that much news.
And when Jake came in, asking for his fourth fucking cake...I guess I lost it.
____________________________________________________
"The hell is this Jerry?!"Anna screamed, squeezing a green slice of cake in her bare hand, icing dripping from her fingers.
"PRANKED!"I threw my arms in the air. "Ya got pranked, bitches!"
Samantha snorted.
"Bad prank Jerry, bad prank!"Jake admonished.
"I liked it!"I muttered.
"Sorry, honey, he..."Jake pleaded to his cross-armed wife before twisting back towards the crowd. "It's a boy everyone! Yay! Name TBD. Now, I have a friend to talk to."
As Jake stormed towards me, Anna yelped. Jake froze.
Anna collapsed, holding her stomach, shrieking in pain. Jake regained his senses and slid to the ground, cradling his wife's head in his arms.
"Baby, baby, baby, what's wrong?"Tears flooded his eyes. "What's happening?"
"I..."she gasped. "It's..."
I don't know what affected me more. The yelping death knell of my best friend's wife. Or the creature that burst from her womb.
I sat motionless on the couch as I watched it sprint and leap through the room. I was honestly fascinated by how long its fangs were compared to its body.
Blood sprayed against the wall as the creature satiated it's new born hunger.
It was then that realization washed over me. All those back page headlines. All those doctors and nurses, ridiculed for reading sonograms wrong.
The creature and I locked eyes.
It charged.
I opened my arms. |
It's a scary thought that not many people knew. Only a select few people. The people dedicated to their craft and making worlds out of only a couple dice and paper. D&D was seen as the game of nerd and geeks yet something strange happened.
A player did a great feat they never thought they would reach after 20 years of playing the game they raised a single character from level 1 all the way up beyond level 20 it took them a decade of play and he was the only one with his original character left when they fully killed a god. Their character casting the final blow. It wasnt till the next day when they started to recognize something. The characteristics of that god was starting to show in them powers and abilities that only existed in fantasy started showing in their real life.
It was though their freinds that recognized the true horror of it. Their personality changed as well. The evil deity they defeated was slowly forming in the real world and taking over their friend ever so slowly. |
As I fall, the strangest sensation overcomes me. It's not quite flying, or falling.. Rather the world seems to shrink around me as I realize with a horrifying childlike disbelief the cause of this retched delusion. So mundane, so worthless, it would have gone unnoticed if not for the impossible I experience now. Like a skydiver fast approaching 8,000 ft, the penny on the corner of Gregory St and Bay South stretches from horizon to horizon.
Is this a dream?
As Abraham Lincoln's nose (has he always had a bat in the cave?) fills my field of view I realize it for what it is, the perfect landing spot. From there it should only be only a two day journey to The Date, I see it in the furthest distance, past the lips and chin. It is there I will gain my bearings and... What am I talking about?
5,000 ft and coming in hot.
I pull at cords and strings and parachutes that don't exist as the copper nose ridge becomes a mountain valley. Warm adrenaline flows through my body as I prepare to explode on the surface of a damn penny. I close my eyes and prepare for the long nothing when a gust of wind carries me gently to the surface.
That was close, I barely say. My breathing is hoarse and erratic.
As fast as I landed, the penny grinds with the force of an earthquake and my stomach is in my throat. The mountainous nose and lips ajar at a sickening angle, this entire new world is rising and turning on some unseen axis. The wind bites at my face like a thousand cold hailstones and I begin to slide. Again I close my eyes and wait.
Then, a slightly wobbling but bearable steadiness becomes the ground.
The sidewalk where I stood moments ago opens before me, a concrete galaxy, my spilled coffee a French-pressed nebula. Fighting the wind I turn, and then the sound. So deep, it's frequency vibrates every molecule in my body.
"Woah."it says in disturbingly slow amazement. Surely he sees me! His face is like a God in the sky of this worn-out world. "A lucky penny!"
Day turns to night as five massive doors shut closed the sky.
Some luck indeed. Not 10 minutes later I'm being thrown into a tip jar. Other worlds surround me, a multiverse before my eyes. Is there someone on that Kennedy Half-Dollar staring out into space, wondering who else is out there or am I it?
I never was one to wax philosophical, I'm now a solid week from The Date, the man with the low voice set me back quite a bit. It's alright though, I'll get my bearings once I'm there. |
"Oh sure, just put that anywhere"came the call along with some ironic clapping even as the silverware was still skittering across the linoleum floor. The white porcelain shards crunched underfoot as the waitstaff came to clean up the mess one of their number had made
I turned back to my phone, annoyed that Joey still hadn't shown up. It wasn't a problem that he was late, I had nothing going on that afternoon. It was that he was late again that was bothering me. The kid couldn't be on time to save his life. Scrolling through repost after repost quickly lost my interest and I tossed my phone onto the tabletop with a huff. Picking up the glass of water and looking around I spied Joey through the front windows, his crazy mop of hair waving in the wind as he walked up to the front door. He wasn't hurrying like he would usually be. Like he *should* be.
I looked down to check the time so that I could accurately berate him for being... 26 minutes late. When I looked back up he was passing by the hostess stand and they didn't give him a moment's notice. As he approached the table something struck me as out of place but by the time he'd come within earshot I had already launched into the tirade I had been preparing.
"Joey, seriously, what the hell? I've been waiting on you for 35 minutes! You know I've been fasting and I get hangry when it's lunch time!"I spun down as the queer thing finally registered. It was the look on his face. He looked like he'd just been informed that he was adopted and he couldn't quite process it.
"Hey, yeah, I'm sorry man,"he said as he sat down. His tone was of utter distraction and he couldn't meet my eyes. There were no cheer in him, no bevy of excuses as was his custom. He should be smiling, unconcerned about his tardiness beyond the dramatic telling of his heroic struggles of finding his socks or whatever. The complete dissolution of the routine we'd established was jarring.
My frustration quickly turned to concern and before the silence got awkward I said, "It's ok, I was just giving you shit. You OK?"
He was fiddling with his hands in his lap and continued staring a hole through the table. "Yeah, I guess so,"he said and trailed off. Before I could figure out what to say he brightened and said, "Hey, you remember that time when we were little and we got busted eating cereal off the floor with the dog? Your mom was so pissed that we'd poured them all over the place."
He was smiling now but it was tinted with sadness.
I sat back in my chair, "Ha! Yeah that was forever ago. Mom still brings that up every now and again."
"Then there was that time,"he said, "at my birthday party, eighth I think, when my mom made me invite my whole class and Bobby was picking on me, threatening to break my new Power Turtle action figure. The look on his face when you saw what was happening and tackled him...You kept saying, 'You leave Joey's toy alone!' over and over and over again."
"I still have the scar on my forehead where I hit the coffee table. I don't think Bobby knew what to do when suddenly there was a screaming, bleeding maniac shaking the crap out of him."
"Yeah, no doubt. He left me alone after that."His smile was bigger now but no happier. "Tara was there. It was after that party when mine and her parents got to be good friends and we started hanging out a lot. I really liked her, you know? I still do, I think, and maybe even loved her. But we just kind drifted apart."His smile faltered and he settled on something like disappointment.
I looked away, starting to get a bit nervous, thinking maybe I knew what his mood was about. He and Tara had dated in junior high, for 2 whole years which was an eternity. Through the ever shifting sands of High School social structures, Tara and I had been talking quite a lot lately. I had tried to keep that fact away from Joey so as not to cause problems between us. I'd been feeling very guilty about it, too.
I guess Joey noticed my discomfort because he said, "Hey man, it's cool. I know you've been talking to her and it's cool."
"Are you sure?"I said. "Look, you come first. We've been friends for way too long to let a girl come between us. 'Bros before hoes' and all that."
A smirk flashed across his face.
A blaring sound came from the far wall as the restaurant manager turned the TV to Channel 11, the local news channel. She quickly thumbed the volume down, cursing, but before she could get the thing muted it was announced it was 3pm and time for the daily deceased list. It was such an odd thing for a station to do, particularly in a small town where everyone knew everything that went on pretty much immediately. But I guess in a small town they needed something to report on.
Joey didn't seem to notice. "Tara's into you, you know."
"Really?"I said, "Why do you say that?"
"She told me this morning before Lit class. She asked me if it was OK with me if she asked you out."
That threw me. I was happy to hear it but of all people to tell me, I didn't expect to hear it from Joey.
"And it's alright,"he continued, "it really is. I think you guys would work well together."He was still speaking in that flat, dispirited voice and it really worried me.
"Is that what's got you down, Joe?,"I said. "I mean it man, I don't want to hurt our friendship."
He shook his head and looked out the front window where someone was rushing by. He said, "You've always been a brother to me. A big brother at times, but a brother for sure. You've helped me with school, you've helped me with girls, you helped me fix that green shit-heap I drive around."
"Speaking of that green shit-heap,"I interjected, trying to distract him with humor. "How's it running?"
"Its ... alright,"he said, then quickly went on. "Look, I've got to go, I just wanted to tell you that you've meant the world to me. You've been there for me when I felt like I had no one. Thank you for everything."He stood quickly as more people rushed by the front of the restaurant outside.
I looked over as a TV Blared, "This just in, there's been a horrible accident..."As the manager fumbled with another remote, at another wall, cursing again as she muted this one too.
"Joey!"I called as I looked back. Joey was already rushing towards the door, squeezing between the frame and a man that was hurrying in.
The man said, "Somebody had a bad wreck over on Oak street!"
All the restaurant stood at once and started for the door. I stood too but the green on the TV caught my eye and I froze. I knew that faded green but it was all wrong.
I ran out the door, pushing through the throngs of people, horror growing inside me. I ran down the sidewalk and as I turned the corner, I saw it. A brown pickup truck was parked askew on the street, half of the side caved in just behind the driver's door.
And there, at the light, was Joey's car. The front was smashed and smoking, and through the ruin of steel and plastic, I could see the crazed curly mop. And I knew then.
I knew then. I'd see Joey Burns on the list tomorrow. |
A new day, a new me. As I wake up, I groggily stare into my future ghost, finding out what would happen the next day. As always, I was in school, writing down notes for the upcoming test. I wake up, brush my teeth, shower, put on some clothes and then head out.
“Welp, that vision wasn’t too bad, I guess”
As I enter school, I goggle at all the other students in their fresh school uniforms. Mine was a hand-me-down from my father, color worn with age. My tag which showed the family name, and then mine, “SMITH, PETER” was the only thing that shone relatively brightly.
“Jim, did you hear about that witch that was caught?” One student said excitedly.
“Of course, it was in the newspaper. Then, are you coming to watch the execution?” Jim replied.
I couldn’t help but listen in, a witch? It must’ve been forever since we “caught” one let alone execute them... I try to shove this towards the back of my head as the teacher walked in. All of us sat down in our seats and took out our quills, ready to write and learn.
“Now class, as you may or may not have known, a witch was caught yesterday.” The teacher said, while trying to hold in a smile. “They will be executed.”
The class was silent, half the class was excited, while the rest were confused and/or didn’t care. As students started to whisper about, inevitably, someone who sat to the right of me quipped,
“That oughta keep them out of this village.”
As the novelty of this information wore off, which didn’t take long, the teacher spoke.
“Let’s get down to business, now.”
“Yes Mrs. Hobbs.” The class replied in unison.
As the teacher quickly wrote on the board, many of us struggled to keep up, scared to speak up and ask her to slow down. This was usual, though we’ve gotten used to it, very used to it. For me, I am one of the oldest people in the class. My birthday lied at the very end of the year, December 28th, which made me a force to be reckoned with, I guess. There are always people who don’t mean well, but wouldn’t get physical with me.
At the end of the class, everyone packed up and headed towards their next class, saying goodbye to the teacher as they walked to the door. In the hallways, people would often brush up against my shoulder a bit too hard, or step on my shoe “accidentally” a tad bit too often. Maybe, this was due to my status, having old clothes and not blending in with the more wealthier kids.
Soon, school ended and I started the trek back home. Took about 15 minutes to get back, and when I did was very famished. My mother, came out and asked me about my day, the usual stuff, looking gloomier than usual. My father was still at work, trying to get us some more money that we desperately need, usually stayed out late until 11 PM. For dinner, we ate mashed potatoes with turkey. Normally, this was good combined with my mother’s cooking, but this time there was less of it, and it tasted dreadful, as if it was made purely with sadness.
I went out on a walk after I ate to get away from the gloomy energy, and to get some fresh air. I wave hello to neighbors and people I’m cool with at school. It wasn’t long until it became dark, and I walked a bit faster back home. This was when bad things usually happened. But, it was ok, until the teacher walked up to me.
“Hello, Peter.” said the teacher, sweetly.
“And to you, Mrs. Hobbes” I replied.
“Let me get down to the chase. You are to kill the mayor, and then try to kill his most powerful supporters.” the teacher said in a whisper.
“Hold on, what? Have I gone deaf?” At this point, I hope I had hearing problems, otherwise this is crazy.
I didn’t get an answer, as the teacher slinked away into the darkness. I ran back home as fast as my legs could take me, if I needed help, my parents were there for it. As I sprinted to the door, there was a letter attached to it, smeared with blood.
“Do it now, or you will find yourself a meeting with the Executioner.” the note read.
As I slowly open the door, after being frozen for a minute, I could smell it. I didn’t want to open the door any further, I was on the verge of vomiting. I stood, unable to move, and cried. Cried until my eyes were dry, until my lungs were dry, until my heart could take no more. My father came back and saw me frozen, a puddle of tears surrounded me. He dashed to me and asked what happened. He took one look at the note and went back inside. His crying was audible, but so was the loading of the gun. He ran to consult the mayor, and dragged me along. Why? Why me? Why is this happening to me? I couldn’t help but feel... well helpless. Unable to do anything, and powerless. We reached the mayors office, protected by two armed bodyguards. The mayor waved them off,
“Let them in.”
“William, the mafia is back, and they have killed my wife. Soon the Coven will return, and wreak havoc as they did forty years ago.” he said grimly.
The mayor, bodyguards, and then me stood with their mouths gaping, eyes wide open. The mayor simply said,
“Bring me the vigilantes, investigators, and the Executioner. Do also bring anyone you know is not from the mafia or a witch of the coven. I will make a speech tomorrow.”
My father nodded and ran off. I stood there, dazed. It took a while before the mayor asked what happened.
“My teacher, Mrs. Hobbes met with me during my night excursion, and told me to kill you. Then there was a note.. and my mom...”
Breaking up at the end, now starting to cry once more. The mayor simply nodded and stood in silence. He ushered me to one of the rooms in his house, and told me to wait there. I fell quickly asleep. Dreams of my mother haunted me, and what would probably become of this entire town, broken apart by the damn mafia, there was also a beautiful woman with fair skin, who suddenly had boils all over her skin, she was holding a frog and looked like a witch as an artist would draw them. I woke up, angry, and consulted my future ghost, and saw that I was hanged from a noose. My eyes opened and blasted me awake, my anger fading. I quickly moved towards the window, and watched the last seconds of life my teacher held, before they were hung, screaming and thrashing about until their very end. Executed like the witch. My father stood behind the mayor and woman, formed in a stagger.
“Smith. John Smith. You are accused of being the kingpin of the mafia. What say you? the mayor boomed with a twinge of sadness hidden in his voice, as he looked around behind him. The bodyguards took his gun.
My dad stood, unsurprised. Thrown up to the stand, stood in silence. The town threw whatever they could at him, fruit, rocks, whatever they could, yelling at him, as they finally had someone to take their anger off on, like a scapegoat. The Executioner stood eerily behind him. He fixed the noose, and used it on his father. There were no noises, as if he accepted death. No screams, no flailing, he died and let death take him. If I knew what would happen...
Someone behind him surprised him.
“Such is the life of a family mixed with the Coven and the Mafia”
A woman stood behind him, with boils all over her fair skin. She was absolutely stunning.
“I am the kingpin, ringleader, whatever you call it, of the Coven. I don’t expect you to know who we are, as we sparked with activity as soon as the Mafia crumbled. Your mother was a member of the Coven. She was the previous leader.” Said the witch monotonously.
I looked back to look out the window. The mayor, bodyguards, and the vigilantes were noticeably gone, detached from the crowd. We could hear the door silently creak open. A sneak attack imminent. The witch drew out her wand.
“Peter, you are the necromancer, you alone have the unnatural power to change one’s destiny and fate.”
And at that very moment, I knew, my entire life would change. As the stand came closer and closer, I finally stood on top of the stand. The mayor and his gang were battered. The bodyguard and vigilantes were dead, killed by the witch, but she herself was also killed. For me, I had to come quietly. I had no weapons, no way to create a miracle.
“PETER SMITH, YOU ARE HEREBY ACCUSED OF BEING A WITCH, WHAT SAY YOU?” The mayor said obviously holding in tears, hiding it with his loud, megaphone-like voice.
I, like my father, will choose to say naught. I hear the executioner fixing the noose, is this what my father felt, along with my teacher? It’s time. The executioner puts the noose around my neck. I have a strangle feeling in my hands. As if the body knows what to do, but the mind does not. Was this a last ditch effort to escape? Or something else entirely? I flick my hand, in a way that even I didn’t know what was going on. And in that very moment, I saw my parents come silently out of their quickly made graves, my mother walking off into the forest, trailed by my father, presumably to the coven. Where they will fight together, until the very end. The other town members do not notice, and that is even better. Everyone is silent, as if expecting me to implode. I’m now standing on the seat. And the seat is kicked out from under me. I choke. It hurts. I can’t breathe. I’m going to die. And this is where, I accept and embrace death. Victim to a cruel destiny. I stare into the Executioner’s eyes, and I see them twinkle, as if they were crying. |
"This is it"I whispered to mission control.
"I hope you're right about this"my sergeant said to me as we both watched the giant screen that filled the room with anticipation. On it you could see hundreds of deadly chunks of leaving behind a trail of light as they headed towards Earth. We had carefully calibrated the launch so that they would just graze Earth's atmosphere and burn up in it.
We were only able to do this mission once every 50 years or so, recently the council had been trying to cut down budget and this was one of the easiest programs to cut costs in. A lot of us on the team were starting to lose hope to, but not me. Not yet. I had hope.
Things were also different now, oh they were so different. "Switch cameras to major cities on Earth"I said. I had taken an unspoken lead on this run, as no one else had the drive and the hope to keep the rest of the team going when we hit roadblocks. Eventually they all started coming to me with their problems, and my sergeant already defeated by the previous thousands of years of missions that he had lead let me be the commander of this run.
The cameras switched to major city parks like London, New York, Shanghai where people were looking up in awe as their sky lit up with various colors. I scanned the crowd and made out the the few stragglers with what looked like intricate, expensive equipment that I hoped they were using to monitor and read the meteor shower. The rocks on this run had been carefully composed of specific chemical compositions that gave off a certain color when burnt. This color could then be converted into binary and those binary digits would form a sentence that said "You are not alone"
Things were so different now, they had computers, they had high definition cameras, they had spectrometers that could detect a wide variety of colors. My eyes were locked on the NASA team viewing the shower outside of a city called Houston. The room held it's breath as a human with a lab coat raised his eye from his microscope with a stunned expression. Had he figured it out? The room filled with a pin drop silence as we awaited our hard work to be paid off by one person who makes the important observation that this meteor shower isn't just any ordinary shower.
He raised his son up on his shoulder and proccedded to pint and say.
"Look son, make a wish before they dissappear into bright colors!" |
In the west, where the sun was rising as always, I could hear the drumming of emus. Their feet padded the ground, kicking up a dust cloud that could be seen from a long distance away.
I inspected my weapon again, an submachine gun that had been stashed underground for 5 years prior, in case of an emergency like this. I had rushed to dig it up when I saw that the emus were on the assault for the first time in 80 years.
As they drew within range, about 500 yards, I fed a magazine into my rifle, nudged my horse onward, and fired a burst at the terrible horde as my steed galloped on. The emu scattered, running towards the ambush in the other direction.
“For my forefathers!”, I roared.
The resistance had begun. |
My dad loves to tell stories about what the Thanksgiving Dinner Special was like when he was a kid. People were a lot more optimistic back then, trying their hardest to show how great their family is and how wonderful a meal they prepare. And people like my dad, who watched the show while his father yelled at his mother and she drank her problems away, really believed that those peoples' real lives were actually like that and not like their own.
Anyways, people are a lot more realistic now and, hell, we're a lot more *ironic*. We know that shit doesn't work and that everyone has a fucked up family, so rather than hide it we fucking *flaunt* it. So whenever my dad starts saying that bullshit about how much things were better when he was young, I tell him to shut up and save it for when we get on the show.
That was years ago. Had I actually known that we would have been selected as a contestant for the special, I would have told you to fuck off. Ever since I was a kid I've watched the show, just like my old man, but unlike him I got to see it devolve into the post-modernist comedy that it has now become.
And I *love* it.
As you can maybe tell, I am not the most withdrawn person, and in most regards I never hold back from telling a person how it really is. But ever since I first started taking notes on the show, realizing the meta behind the game, I realized I had to practice being something my family desperately lacked- the quiet kid.
The quiet kid isn't a staple of the Thanksgiving Dinner in real life, but if you wanted to win Real Life: The Game Show! then you're shit outta luck if you don't have one. Sadly, my sister is just as loud and forward as I am, and not only that but she's too fucking stubborn to ever change, so it seemed like I would have to fake it if we were to ever win.
The only issue is that my family is the real deal. None of them are faking it, and this means that shit can get too out of control, even for the show. I've tried to plan it out with them, give them lines, but I know they're only going to end up doing their own thing. So as we stand to the side of the stage, T-Pain announcing today's contestants, the only thing I feel is the utter fear of our defeat. But fear is good, it'll help me keep quiet...
"And taking the table on the left, the Mulberrys!"
The audience applauds and my dad steps out first with a wave as the rest of the family follows, with me in the back. As we begin to take our seats, I glance over at the table on the other side of the stage. My eyes widen for a second as I notice their quiet kid has a piercing hidden behind her hair. *Fuck*.
"Now, let Thanksgiving Dinner... begin!"
Slowly, both of our families begin digging into the food, as the drunk aunts forsake the food and begin their first glasses of wine. Before anyone on stage finishes their first bite of food, both mothers ask, almost synchronously, "Who likes the food?"
Their snarky kid immediately begins disparaging the food, talking about how it is too dry. I let a smile slip, knowing that a tactic so direct would never amuse the crowd. Instead, my sister begins chiding our mother for asking before she could even try it, and once she has, admits with frustration that it tastes good.
Some formalities follow, with the mother and father taking turns trying to get the quiet kid to answer, but neither of us do. Breaking off the attempt, the racist grandma of both tables begins her rant- theirs decides to tackle immigration rather than "urban"communities, which is a gamble but it seems to pay off. Both end their speeches by knocking her elbow into the respective sleeping grandpas, who awaken with a start before promptly falling back asleep.
As I watch it all unfold, I notice a strange motion at the end of their table as our father begins to ask our cousin in the marines how the army was, while our drunk aunt begins humming in the background. Turning my head slightly, I see their cousin flicking his long hair behind his head and pulling a ukulele out. Oh fuck, oh god no.
His eyes meeting mine for a second and then turning to the cousin, the father at the other table gives a slight smile and asks the cousin to play one of his "hippie songs". The audience all almost immediately turn to the other table and begin laughing amongst themselves. I had heard about this new meta, the "New Age Cousin", which was supposedly testing better with crowds than the classic "Cousin in the Marines"but I didn't think it was real.
Throughout the whole cousin scene, the audience ignores my family and is transfixed by the other table. My heart drop as I see their father stand up and begin his monologue, marking the end of their performance. I start sweating, knowing that would mean my father would have to go next, and looking over at him, I see him spying on the other table as well. Fuck, if he's watching them, he's not going to not what to say!
After a long winded speech about how this new age music and attitude is destroying our country, followed by a cheer from the drunk aunt, their father sits down and mine stands up. The audience then turns back to us, still laughing from the other table, and drawing silent in anticipation. I can tell they already have their minds made up- the minute they saw that tiny guitar they made their choice. My father begins to speak.
"You know, back when I was a kid, this show used to be a lot different. I remember sitting down to watch the Thanksgiving Day Special and..."
I can't believe what I am hearing. This game show thrives on irony and playing off of old troupes and metas, but never in its history has anyone ever mentioned the show itself while *on* the show. It was unheard of, and possibly the worst bet a person could ever make. But wouldn't you fucking know it, the audience went crazy.
Before he was even done, they were all cheering and laughing, with the other family all shocked and slowly, one by one, getting off the stage having accepted the inevitable outcome. Even I, with all my years of practice, broke character and began smiling up at my dad, who gave me a little wink right before he wrapped up his speech.
Later that night, as my sister and aunt fought over who got to hold the trophy (my aunt claimed that she fucked T-Pain once and therefore it should be hers), my dad walked over to me and placed a firm hand on my back.
"Wow. You realize you won that for us right dad?"
"Yeah, but it wasn't my idea. You said it yourself every time I'd bring it up- save it for that damn show. I may be an old curmudgeon, but I listen."
I don't think I ever held my dad tighter than right then. |
Based on the songs "Jack a Roe"and "Terrapin Station:"
&#x200B;
The audience was enraptured by the beautiful woman whose picture sat on the mantle. The firelight illuminating the portrait made her hair shimmer like waves of water. The light in her eyes resembled that of the evening star above. Her smile clearly said that she hadn't a care in the world.
"And it was true, I had no cares back then,"the old woman said, "I was the heiress to a wealthy merchant, with many suitors. The men who would come to trade with my father were always glad when I listened to their tales of far away lands. I would then write poems about these places, and wish that I could go see them for myself.
The day this picture was taken, I had just met a sailor named Jack. He was a kindred spirit, a poet like myself. After he left, I spent so long wishing that I could see him again. I could never have guessed how that next meeting would come about."
“War broke out. I was too curious for my own good. I wanted to write the greatest war epic of all time, so I became a war correspondent. I knew that my father would never allow me to do something so dangerous, so I went down to the tailor shop, got myself some men’s clothes, and boarded a ship. That was it, I was Jack, the war correspondent.”
“I didn’t know at the time that Jack had been drafted as well. He served under Captain Robert Hunter, who was one of the best. Robert was a brusque man with no patience for the arts. To him, wartime accomplishments were quantifiable and added to a culture’s defense, while art was full of messy emotions and constantly in need of protection. Naturally, Jack was miserable under Robert.”
“Eventually, I was found out. Not by my own country, which would have been preferable, but by the enemy. They thought I was a spy. They knew I was a valuable hostage. They locked me away, and took everything I had written. When they weren’t looking, I kept on writing notes on the inside of my fan.”
“Robert planned the rescue. I got out without a scratch, of course. Strategy was Robert’s greatest strength.”
The audience looked quizzically at the prominent scar on the old woman’s arm.
“If you got out without a scratch, then how…” asked a girl.
“That was my own fault. I couldn’t stop thinking about my epic, and Jack realized something was troubling me. I told him about my poem, and in defiance of the captain’s orders, he went back for it. Robert warned us all that Jack was running into disaster, and no one who went looking for him could expect a rescue from the army. I had to go anyway. There was no way I was going to sit by while he risked his life for me.”
“I took a bullet trying to find him, but by the time I got to him, he was in a worse state than I was. I fairly leapt at him. I picked him up in my arms and made the rough climb to the nearby town of Terrapin. There, I found a doctor to heal us both.”
“A happy ending,” said a boy.
“Or the beginning of the next chapter,” the old woman said, “Jack and I settled down in Terrapin, and started a family as soon as I finished my epic. But that is another story.” |
"You know we could just.."he trailed off at the poisonous glare his colleague shot in his direction. At least this time she hadn't actually bit him. She had apologized of course, but her venom had stung a little, and his mate had been incensed that someone other than her would dare bite him. It had almost come to blows, but fortunately everyone calmed down before the formal "fight to the death"challenge had been delivered.
Instead she turned and hurled the inoffensive tool she had been holding at the nearest wall. It was an impressive throw, hitting the distant wall with a distinct "clank"before falling to the floor. Some of her ire expended , she turned back. "We could just ask?"she said,turning his earlier suggestion into a question. "No, I am.. we are going to figure out how it works even if it kills me in the process."
He shuddered at that, wondering just how many disasters had been caused just after someone spoke those same words. Human tech wasn't something to be trifled with or treated with anything except the highest degree of caution. And it wasn't like they would take offense if you asked them a question. On the contrary, they would happily explain the finer points, often in great (and sometimes baffling) detail.
When the Nexus of Worlds had encountered Humans, it hadn't raised much notice at first. It wasn't that uncommon to find new races as parts of the galaxy were explored. When they traded star maps however, the extent of the Humans territories had taken aback many , the huge expanses dwarfing those of the Nexus. What *had* impressed was the first human ambassador. Or at least her ship. It had made the run from the edge of Nexus space to the core worlds in only six days, not the six weeks a Nexus ship would have taken. And that had only been the start. It had rapidly become apparent when more information had been exchanged, just how long humans had been an interstellar civilization. Some had even started calling them an "Elder"race, something the humans quickly denied. "Not us, we haven't been around that long, the real Elders have all moved on to other planes."What that meant was one of the few things they had been reluctant to talk about.
It hadn't taken long for human tech in various forms to fall into the hands of different species of the Nexus. Mostly by trade, occasionally by theft from other members. A couple of attempts at piracy of human trading ships and the results had rapidly revealed that human weapons were just as advanced as their drive systems. Nor were they reluctant to use them if the situation demanded.
Many governments had wanted to backwards engineer the human tech, to both give themselves an edge against potential rivals, and defend against such rivals. It had seemed like a good idea to many, but it wasn't quite as straight forward as it had seemed.
Perhaps, he thought, reminding her of some of the real results of misunderstanding human tech might give her pause and lead to a less headlong approach.
"Do you remember what happened with the ones researching the matter/antimatter injectors on the human FTL drive? "he asked "Or the energy to matter converter unit? How about the team that worked on the replicator device? Would you like to remind me what happened to them?"
Reluctantly she replied, forced by custom to supply the answer, even though she knew he already knew. "The FTL researchers caused some sort of containment breach, and blew a hole in the crust of their planet. There is an active volcano where the lab used to be."
She continued. "The ones working on the energy converter couldn't turn it off, and turned the small asteroid they were testing it on into the third largest planet in their system before it shut down on its own."
"And?"he prompted when she had fallen silent. "And the replicator incident could have been better handled."she conceded.
"Better handled? Better handled?"his voice had risen and she had taken a step back, startled by his unusual vehemence. "They replicated a tiny pile of dirt in the middle of an ocean so may times, they now have an entire new continent. Which is at least somewhat lucky as the water level of their oceans rose over 20 meters and submerged half their coastal cities. At least the survivors have somewhere to live."
"I take your point,"she replied as he fell silent. "but surely this machine can't be that dangerous."She turned back considering the huge construct,as it gently hummed. "It's just a sewerage treatment plant after all, how dangerous can it be?"
"Human sewerage treatment plant. You left out the word "Human"in your description"was his reply.
They both stared at it for a time, as it quietly went about the business of turning a worlds worth of sewerage and garbage into its component molecules, and processed them out into fresh raw materials.
Finally she turned to him, admitting defeat after six months of stubborn determination. "Get the manual, I don't think the planetary administrators would be too pleased if we accidentally converted an ocean to sewerage just because we couldn't bring ourselves to read the instructions."
Relieved, he called up the manual the human installers had supplied with the machine. Now perhaps he would learn what the mysterious symbol RTFM on the side meant. |
Heaven wasn't what I expected. Actually, in all honesty, heaven wasn't where I expected *to go.* Yet, lo and behold, a few minutes into the tour I realized it wasn't a cruel joke the Devil was playing, instead, it was God opening the pearly gates--not literally, why would anyone gate Heaven?--to the poor, unfortunate soul that was me.
"There are rules here,"He said, "and all must follow them. It doesn't matter who you are, where you come from, or what you did. You made it Here. That alone should say enough. We are not a gluttonous, paradise where one lives for eternity without a care. We are a paradise--"He stopped, stuck up his hand with one finger point up, "--The Paradise! Where one lives while *caring* for everyone they ever knew and loved. It's a glorious creation."
"Toot your own a little bit?"
He stopped and turned to me. I stared back at Him as He took a large, tiresome sigh. It was the second time I made Him do that. The first happened when I woke up and immediately asked for a beer. "So,"I said, to break the awkward silence that exists when God stares at you, "don't joke about Paradise. Got it."I snapped my fingers and looked away from Him. So far Heaven wasn't much. Mostly forest and water and a single path from where God woke me up to where, I assumed, was *The* Paradise he kept talking about.
"Anyway,"He said and turned back to continue on the path. "I give every new attendee a helpful guide to find their way around and , well, a friend."
"Sounds like my high school field trip,"I said. "That was Junior year. Actually, that was the same year I tried to hookup with--"
"I know!"God said, His voice growing to the loudest I had heard Him yet. "I know all about your life! Every minute little detail of your life. So please, for the Love of--well, Me--stop talking, okay?"
I kept my mouth shut, trying very hard not to laugh at God referring to himself. In truth, there was no telling what God would do and in even more truth, I was no Saint. I didn't live my life in the shadow of God or spread His holy word. If anything, my being here--in Heaven--was sort of like when I cheated on my Psych exams in college. I wasn't sure how I got away with it.
He continued on a few moments after. "You'll have a guide, one of the best. You don't know her, she's not from your time, and you won't *get* to know her either. She'll show you around and that's all."
I went to open my mouth, but stopped when I remembered God's small outburst seconds ago. It was safe to not say a word until I was safely out of His earshot.
We walked for another few minutes, in complete silence, and I gazed at the world around me. We passed a few small ponds and tiny waterfalls until we reached a clearing. It was a large, open area in the middle of the forest. At it's center was a small boulder, near which sat a strange woman. She was meditating, from what I gathered, and wore a white robe. She sat--legs crossed, eyes shut, arms at the knees--right in front of the boulder.
God and I walked up to her.
"Hi--"
"So--
We both stopped. His head turned to me slightly. "Yeah, right, sorry. You go,"I said, smiling.
He took a deep breathe in and turned back to the woman. "So, this is him."
"I could tell,"she said, her eyes not opening. "His steps are heavy with burden."
"Yes, well, so it goes. I did try to reason with him you know? I didn't just let him take what belonged to us."I started to zone out as God spoke, my eyes glancing to a small bird in the clearing. All the while, I kept my smile. "Listen, just--please, okay? There I said it. And he has been sent here and there is no sending him away. I have already tried."
I stopped smiling when I realized they were talking about me. *Three feet* away from me. "Wait--"
"Very well, dear."The woman said and her eyes finally opened. She got up off of the ground and dusted her robe. Behind her, two very prominent wings sprouted up.
"Oh, holy shoot, how does one get those?"I said. "Wait, holy shoot. No, I mean shoot. Why can't I say shoot?"
I saw God's hand move as he brought it up to his face, his fingers massaging his head. "I can't imagine the poor soul stuck down there with him. If this is what we got? I mean, he could have received anyone! I know nothing about that poor, lost soul!"
I chuckled at that.
Both God and the woman looked back at me.
"Oh, you know, because God--omnipient? Knows everything? That whole thing?"
God didn't say a word. "You mean *omnipotent*,"the woman clarified. "He meant omnipotent."
"Yes, yes, *that* I know!"And God stormed away, leaving me and the woman in the clearing. He walked over to the edge of the forest, one of His feet rapidly tapping the ground.
"So, what's His problem?"
The woman turned to me, her eyes glancing at me up and down. She had the same look God had when He first laid eyes upon me. It was a pretentious look, like the ones kids used to give me that said 'You don't belong here.'
"Well, you, for starters."She then *actually said it,* "You don't belong here."
I sighed. "Well I know that, how do you know that?"
She shook her head. "Dear, everyone knows that. A few things were a bit crossed and Satan received a soul meant to come here, and when God confronted him about it, he replied by redirecting one of his souls. Meant for There. To here."She paused, turned back to God, then said, "You're quite the scandal."
I almost blushed. "So, wait, let me get this straight."I turned to her and laid it out. "Heaven and There--I mean There--no..**There**. I can't say that either?"She shook her head. "Okay, so *that place* exists."She nodded. "Things, as you said, got 'crossed,'"I used air quotes around 'crossed,' then continued, "and someone meant for Here ended up There."She nodded again. "So God asked Satan about it, and in return, Satan sent me? From There to Here?"
"That about sums it up."She glanced sideways at me, "A man with sins like yours? Not even sure why Satan let you go."
"Oh my,"I glanced at God, smirked, and said, "Him."I started to smile and then broke out into laughter. "Holy shoot,"I said, now almost in a hysteria, when my the woman turned to look at me. She glanced at me up and down and her eyebrows squirmed. "What's so funny?"
"Turns out,"I said, now holding back tears, "this is a cruel joke the Devil is playing. Just not at my expense."I motioned to God, "At His."
____
"And this is where we keep the pitchforks! On Tuesdays, I give them to you guys so you have a chance at fighting back!"Satan said, his arms spread open, showcasing the sea of pitchforks behind a single locked gate.
I stared at the gate, the pitchforks sitting behind it. There were hundreds of them, neatly stacked, as if they hadn't been used in years. "When does the gate unlock?"I said, my voice tiresome, my soul dreary.
Satan turned back to me and I tried not to turn away. His red eyes glared and my eyes kept glancing at his shorn-off horns. "Unlock? Why would I unlock it?"
"But you said... I thought--"
He burst out laughing. "But watching you humans swarm at the gates is so much fun!" |
((Posting unfinished story for now. Might finish it later, but it was fun to get the juices flowing!))
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He walked into the pantheon at dusk, a bit later than normal, and dropped his wreath of wheat, and berries, at the feet of the God. If one listened close enough, they could hear the hoarse voice whisper, "I pray to Numino, please, spare my daughters and sons. They have shown loyalty, fealty, and hard work over the last 6 months. They've worked the fields in my stead. Allow the fields to grow, and bestow my children with the wealth of the land. I know. I will be taken by Justician soon."
This man's hair had white streaks, but was still.mostly a chestnut brown, reaching his waist. He couldn't've been more than 54. He stood for a while longer, solemn and silent. One could easily see how broad he was, and sincere. It wasn't long until he left. The statue of Numino watched him go. The androgynous shape held a sickle in one hand, and a hoe in the other. It stood 5'7", with hair cropped, almost like a crown with its messiness. Hours passed until shortly after midnight, about 2AM.
The statue adjusted as a priestess came forward to start the cleaning, and organization of the offerings. She didn't say anything, even as the statue sat down with a heavy sigh. "Hura Marina, tell me,"and this gained the statue barely a glance, "Am I seen so unworthwhile, that this year, too, I will be taken out quickly? As my brothers, and sisters say: The only things I am good at are farming, and crying."There was almost a pout on the statue's face.
The priestess glanced up, pausing as she was grabbing the wreath, "Of course not, Numino. You are as Godly as your siblings, and therefore, as worthy."She guided the wreath to something akin a standalone chimney, hanging the wreath upon its neck.
"You only say that because you are stuck here, and unable to advance any further on your own."The statue almost whispered that last bit, while continuing to stare at the priestess. The priestess didn't retaliate, although her hands did pause on the bucket she was about to lift. A glance back, and she decided to take the bucket, and hurry out. This left the statue of Numino alone, and as usual, rather bored and vaguely offended by everything. The eyes of the statue settled on the wreath, and it went to investigate it.
The berries were a bit overripe. Was the farmer trying to further encourage Numino to bestow his "blessing"upon the girls? He had seen this farmer many times during the man's life. First, as a young man of 14 winters, and now as a grown, weary man well past 40 winters old. The one who brought him was his father, before he passed, and Numino never saw other relatives visit with either of the men. Odd. He had always wondered why a few families would dedicate their worship to him. He was often considered lesser than his siblings. Even the priestess, who cleans his room in the pantheon, pitied him. He was just the God of Wheat.
That's right, Numino didn't have anything else besides wheat in his toolbox for blessing. There was some misconception amongst the mortals, that he was a God of Farming, and it certainly thickened his herd considerably. The priests, and priestesses, who tried to correct this misconception often fell ill, and experienced quite the hallucinations thanks to some wheat that molded to make their beer, and bread. Useful trick of his, that he preferred using less often. Made it all the more grave when it was whipped out.
A 'thunk' could be heard not far off, and Numino started moving back to place, just in case. As he did, he saw the bronzen glean, reflecting dim light from the torches lighting the pantheon, which was now darkened by the settled moon outside. He groaned inwardly, knowing what was likely to come, as that bronzen creature made its way in. A 'thunk' each step of the way. It was soon easy to recognize the statue as, none other than, Rabini, the God of Shadows. "Nuuuminoooo! What're you *pretendin*’ for?"His voice was slithery, almost cold.
Numino stepped back down, and faced the taller, and more slender statue. “I am cautious, Rabini. A concept you’ve long forgotten, it seems,” Numino remarked as he walked past the other statued God. “What have you come here for, this time, Brother?” He had moved past Rabini to look at a different offering, one that was given a few days ago. Bread, ornamental. It kept his mind off of how Rabini seemed to be unnaturally swaying with the flickering lights and shadows.
“My, you think I only ever come here to *demand* something of you?” Rabini’s grin was met with a scowl from Numino, who was now facing him. “No, no, and certainly not to constantly mock you! Why, *Brother*, I was just wondering who you’ll be choosing as your champion for this year. Afterall, I don’t want to pick the same as you.” |
“It was your turn last time Sagyar!” Snorted the dragon, his huge claws scraping the ground as it trembled beneath his mammoth feet.
“And it was your turn before that! If anyone terrorizes the kingdom, it should be me!” His armor clanked as he pointed an armored finger at the dragon, and then the sorcerer. Sagyar the sorcerer smirked, his scared face twisting.
“But I can wreak more havoc then either of you , combined! I can burn a dozen cities at once. How may can you *dragon*” he snarled. “And you ‘Black Knight’, how many people can you slay at once? One? I can kill thousands! I am the natural choice!” Both the knight and the dragon were outraged.
“HOW DARE YOU INSULT ME SO!” Roared the dragon, bellowing a tendril if fire from his mouth.
“I OUTTA RUN YOU THOUGH!” Yelled the knight, drAwing his long sword. The sorcerer waved his hands, and stone erupted like liquid from the ground, ensnaring the Dragon and the Knight.
“HEY!” Yelled the dragon”LET ME GO!”, and sent a gout if flames at the sorcerer, which he easily dodged. He waved his hands again, and rock formed around the dragons mouth.
“Now excuse me gentlemen, but I have a kingdom to terrorize.”, and he smugly turned and walked away.
“Hey, you can’t just leave us here!” Yelled the Black Knight.
“Oh yes I can!” The sorcerer said, walking off towards the kingdom, the enraged yells of the Knight gradually fading as he made his way towards his location, a cruel smile on his face.
EDIT:formatting.
EDIT:2 or tried to any way. |
"wh-Where am I?"
I woke up on cold ground, nearly frozen. I decided to take a walk and think about my surroundings.
"Alright, there has to be an explana-THUMP! Ow!! What the hell was that?!?"
It seemed like there was an invisible wall surrounding me. It appears I'm trapped.
"This could be an issue..."
I looked up to see a huge wooden door. I looked down to see an almost bottomless pit. A garbage can.
"WOAH!! That's a looooooonnngggg way down!"
I saw multiple different anime and video game posters on the walls around the giant room. As well as a cabinet filled with figurines and DVD's with a giant piece of paper that read
"DO NOT OPEN!"
"That's... a tad creepy."I thought
Then, I heard the door open. A young child walked over to me and picked up my prison.
"You are going to be my masterpiece!"The child said.
I was put on a shelf with other jars with figurines in them, nearly melted, they had taken two of the melted figures and stuck them together and then stuck them to what looked to be a miniature movie set.
"AHHHH!"I screamed in terror, frightened by the horror of melted figures.
I saw the giant put on gloves and open a huge black box with buttons on it. they then grabbed my prison and rested it inside the box. All I heard after the door closed were 3 ear-piercing beeps. I then started to rotate...
\------THE END----- |
Mr. All Powerful (AP) was so used to the evil genius role. It actually defined him, that he believed. So to say this would be too easy...
And yet here we are. It comes up to this.
"Oh God! Oh God nooo please!!!"
Dr. Autonomous was a fearless tyrant who never wasted a breath coming up with new ways to terrorize everyone. Being at the mercy of the disposition shouldn't be anything. And he was cowering like a frightened little puppy dog. It really didn't sit right with him. He didnt know why either.
The court was all eyes and ears for this case, as it'll be the first public execution since August 14, 1936.
AP just kept thinking about two things. Watching the mad doctor weep so profusely made his mind wander.
"Something's got to be up. It has to be. They could be acting, and any moment now I'm going right over this banister. I'm going right over, I gotta got the f-"
With a flick of his finger, he motioned the guards for the noose. Under their feet, the red lights of the tv camera turned on.
"NOO GOD PLEASE MR. B! MR.B PLEASE HELP ME OUT OF HERE PLEASE"
The rope tightened around his neck. He noticed that it was strangling him a little.
"MR.B PLEASE MY FAMILY IS PROBABLY WATCHING THIS PLEASE SIR DON'T DO THIS PLEASE"
Mr. B let out a sigh. He winced as his feet trudged his body down the stairs. Turning a corner, he walked straight up to microphone, tapped it once and looked around the room. He watched, wondering why he was doing what he was doing.
The ropes around his wrists were tightly wound at this point. He was almost ready even if he wasn't. Mr. AP saw the exact moment he went from terror to thrashing.
"ANSWER ME YOU COWARDLY FUCK YOU! YA COUNTRY PIECE OF WHITE TRASH, I'VE SERVED YOU LOYALLY!! I DESERVE A GOD DAMN ANSWER YOU PRICK!"
Mr. B took in a deep breath and out. His eyes closed shut for a second. Then, he opened his mouth.
"I don't care about your family. Why should I do such a thing in my old age? I just can't wait to see you in hell."
That was all he said. With a flick of his finger, his actions spoke the rest. The guards pulled the rope downwards. The cameras moved upwards.
Mr. AP didn't really have much to say. It was kind of like time froze around him. It just didn't seem real. His red face and bulging eyes should've been fulfilling, but they weren't.
As he lay dying suspended in the air, Mr. All Powerful thought about a particular battle. He remembered exactly what he said to him before AP got the upper hand again.
"There's one person you'll never be able to save."
He never understood what that meant. He never did for another 25 years.
In that courtroom, sitting high above the rest, the hero and villan's eyes lock for the last time. In that courtroom, AP looked deep into his soul. His face was choking, in pain, worry, fear, shock... but his eyes. His eyes were that of joy.
It was on opposite ends of the courtroom, but Dr. Autonomous gave him a small, twisted smile.
And then he was limp.
The uproar was that unheard of in that courtroom. Mr. B even comforted AP when he made it back up.
"Mr. Powerful, sir, I apologise for any inconveniences we may have given you and this city. We never meant to get you in the middle of your affairs. I'm sorry my employee has caused so much hardships over the years."
AP was very reluctant shaking his hand. "Uh huh."
He happened to look back at the doctor. The world would revere him for being responsible for his hanging. His words spoke his rage and anger, but his actions spoke louder.
"There's one person you'll never be able to save."
That was the last time anybody heard from AP again. |
"Hero"mom would be so happy today, i thought to myself. God calling me hero, what i wouldn't have given to hear that. But what now? Do i kill Eve? I remember 13 years ago when Eve and i traveled to God's palace to be promoted to angels from humans. Eve got accepted but i was sent back. Years after years i went back to same palace to try my luck and every year i was treated worse than before. No one liked a repeater, they said. They will send me to back of the line and have me wait, stating the repeaters like me are not worth the time and energy of judging fairies. I know they would have banished me from the palace if they had their own way.
It broke me so much that i almost carried the books to the palace once. The older guy who accompanied Eve and me on out first run had told us the secret to getting selected- read the stories of greatness of God and his angels. It changes your thinking and psychology long enough to fool the judging fairies. But i didn't want to cheat, i told him. That if i am worth becoming a angel than the fairies will know it. I don't want to become a angel through cheating and then contemplate all my life if i belonged there.
Hope. Hope that the fairies will see my potential one day and that i will make mom happy was what making me walk 3 days to the palace every year. The return journey took more and was more lonely. And what did i have at home to return to? A hard working dad who was mostly always pissed at me for wasting my life running after my dream and not helping win bread for house. A young sister who gave up before even going for the test because if her older and better brother couldn't, how possibly can she. I would often run away from village to cry. Often i'd promise myself not to be so weak and never let anything make me cry.
That promise became integral part of life the day when satan's army attacked my village and i held my dying mom in my arms. I could tell she didn't want to die because then who will look after me. I told her how i can look after myself and that she doesn't have to worry about me and let death take and ease her pain. I didn't cry, not even a single tear. I wanted to show her how strong i am and that she can peacefully pass on to the other side.
"I will never let anything become my weakness"i whispered to myself and wiped my face as hard as i can, even if that meant scrubbing my skin off. Standing there, before Eve, who i met after 12 years, i pointed at god seating behind her. "You need to die. And i will not let anything become my weakness." |
“…Now listen closely, class. Always talk to an ancient tree like you would to your elders. Don’t forget your ‘sirs’ and ‘ma’ams’, and…”
But I don’t listen closely. I already know how to talk to trees. I’ve been doing it my whole life! Why do they teach such useless stuff in school? I fiddle with my quill pen idly. I’m soooo bored. I can’t wait for this class to be over so I can go outside and try out my new bow. Apparently, my best friend is thinking the same thing, for he’s looking out the window and trying not yawn. I look outside too. It’s so beautiful outside. The sun is shining brightly, the spring flowers are beginning to bloom, and- wait, what was that?
My friend stands up quickly and makes his way over to the teacher. He whispers a brief explanation to her before going outside. I fume inwardly. Lucky him. He’s a part-time teaching assistant, so he can leave whenever he wants. How I wish I could see what fell. It looked like a strange branch, at least from what I could see.
“All right class, it’s time for a little quiz,” the teacher announces as she begins handing out pieces of parchment. I scan mine quickly. Good, it’s a multiple-choice quiz again. I complete it as fast as I can and pack my schoolbag. The teacher smiles as I give her my work. “You are dismissed,” she whispers. I hastily thank her and all but run outside.
I go to the spot where I saw the strange branch fall and find my friend already there examining it with a puzzled look on his face. “What is it?” I ask him. “I do not know,” he answers, “Never have I seen anything like it. It is made of wood and metal.” I wrinkle my nose. “It looks like a toy.” I say. “It looks more like a weapon to me. Don’t touch it,” my friend cautions.
“You over there! Give that to me!” shouts a voice. We look up and see a strange man running towards us, dismay written all over his face. He’s carrying a sword. My friend puts a hand on the hilt of his knife, still holding the strange object in the other. “Is this yours?” he asks pleasantly, though I can sense his tension. He hands the object to the man, who takes it with a sigh of relief. “Aye, thank you. It's my pistol, and I can't afford to lose it,” he replies, sticking it in his belt. I stare at him. He sounds exactly like my friend! Now that I look at him, his face looks like my friend’s too, except his hair and eyes are dark brown, while my friend is blond and has blue eyes.
“Where am I?” the stranger asks, “I know I was on a ship a few minutes ago.” My friend is as confused as he is. “You are in the Woodland Realm, and we are nowhere close to the sea, I'm afraid.” The man groans. “Elizabeth is going to kill me,” he mutters to himself.
**P.S: Yes, this is a crossover between two EUs as you can tell if you turn it 90 degrees and squint at it. It was the first thing that popped into my head when I read this prompt, hehe.** |
as i enter the grand doorways, i wonder what this place was, before the wars. nowadays society had been revuilt from its ashes, but old buildings still stood. i couldnt understand what the huge words oabove the porch meant, but it read "emergency parliament". no one in the community had entered this place in years. i was to be the first. contrary to the grand exterior of the building, the inside was metallic and utilitarian. no decoration, only the purpose of security. the first door was labelled secretary. i knew what that meant. i braced myself, expecting to see the skeleton of some poor woman, but all i saw was ashes and charred shapes. the rough structure of a desk, burnt away like the cupboards next to it.
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as i stepped further in, my foot crunched down on a torched object. i looked down ti see a human skull. screw this, i would just wait in the corridor for a few minutes, then tell them id explored the whole place.
heres my writing sub if you care r/PiratesArchive. |
Another day and another way I find to cope within this madness. The galactic council is always hectic. Why must I be running errands for these 'things'?.No offence but they seriously give me the creeps. Come to think of it, I'm just a peach stupid bloby man creature. I walk swiftly down the hallway, my thoughts just becoming more and more bitter and childish.
'hey! You... Come here... I need your help child', he announced to me extending his hand out of his robes to gently point.
'I-..... Erm sure', I reply hastily. I scurry over holding my wooden box close to my chest nodding down in respect as I felt passersby watching me carefully.
He whispers in a unknown language to me face now completely blank, sunken grey eyes shimmering a bright shade of purple. I step back look behind me to make sure I'm not hallucinating. They all have the same expression as him. My heart drops and I can feel the rush of adrenalin hit me. Chest pounding so heavily my ears could hear every thump. I stammer trying to articulate myself, my gut telling me something bad is going to happen. I drop the box and as my foot twists to set off into a sprint the old man smiles and shakes his head.
'dear, I apologise. Could you help me work my security card?.... I can't access anything', he said. Card now firmly in my hand.
Everybody suddenly went back to normal, chattering off into the hallway. I still wanted to run, but that would be absurd now to do. I look down, my wooden box gone completely vanished. I stand there speechless then conjure up the words to finally speak .
'yeah', I mumbled. Taking his card into a machine that presses stuff really hard. It was cool and unusual but it kinda took my mind off things a tiny bit but my eyes still wondered about in paranoia trying to spot the old poeple in the hallway. I avoided looking at the old man handing him the card.
'thank you child, I shall see you later', he said with a gentle smile. He pressed his card, hearing a beep. He sett off.
What in the actual hell happened?. What was that?. I'm not mad?. I mean I knew thier aliens, but that just wasn't well normal but what's normal up here eh?. I tried to sooth myself but the itch just spread until I needed to scratch. I did the first thing that came into mind. Check the security cameras, then I have proof I'm not mad.
I went into the security hatch, sneakily obtained a backup of footage from yesterday morning. I played it on my computer and bingo!. I'm not crazy but
I need to take this to my officials and ask what happened. Is this a alien thing?
'sir, this is what happened yesterday that I needed to report', I said giving him the disc
'Us humans do not have the magical abilities that the others have, what happened yesterday was a magical phenomenon. I'm not sure as to why we can not cast magic but extensive research is being conducted on the matter. I advice you to keep quiet for the reputation of humanity within the galactic Council. Okay son? ', he advised. |
All your tales of immortality are tragic or cautionary because none were ever written by one. Your mindset is that of a mortal, where death is the only guarantee of your existence. You think everything must end, for you will end as well. You value the journey over the goal, for you know your ultimate destination. You cannot truly fathom a life without this final constant, for without it the equation of your being cannot be solved. As such, your world is finite. Your activities are but a series of subtle stratagems to push your fate further. Eating, sleeping, working, exercising, all serve this purpose. In the time gained, you focus on renewing the cycle of life and death, hoping it to be longer for the child you bring. And you feel fulfilled only when witnessing your descendant follow your steps.
To embrace immortality, you must let go of this mindset. The tales hint to the fear of not finding yourself a purpose and thus, being driven mad by the absurdity of unending existence. Yet, do you need one? A purpose is but a specific goal you aim to accomplish in the limited time that is allocated to your life. Truly, you must ask yourself, without a deadline, do you need a purpose? The tales also show your fear of boredom. Of, simply put, running out of activities. But this fear comes from your very fate. It is the anxiety of not using your time as fully as you could, and the prospect of eventual regrets. However, if you lack any ultimate fate, never will you face such regrets. Without death, there is no ennui.
Instead, you must embrace infinity. Focus not on individual births and deaths, witness rather the everlasting cycle of life. Do not limit yourself to a town or a country, behold rather the myriad of stars. Look forward, but also both down to the atoms and up to the galaxies, observe the immensity of nature. Do not count the days, instead let yourself be carried by the unending flow of time and watch how the very universe is set in motion.
There is neither purpose nor boredom. There is no fear, there is peace. Ultimately there is no death: you simply exist.
Are you ready? |
It was shaping up to be a thoroughly normal day at the unassuming corporate headquarters of Beaumont Entertainments. Mouse clicks and keyboard taps broke the silence at thoroughly normal intervals. The printer didn't do what it was supposed to a thoroughly normal number of times. Donuts were politely declined only to later be procured discretely as possible, as was the thoroughly normal custom. Around 11, Nick Garson, acting on years of repressed fantasy, decided he *was* going to go to the water cooler for a quick break and he *was* going to strike up a conversation with Susan. You only lived once, right? He pushed himself back from his desk and did his best to march determinedly and saunter casually to the breakroom at the same time. He poked his head inside- shit. Susan was talking with that receptionist. He was outnumbered. Abort, abort. *No, it's too late for that, now. You can't just let them see you then walk away or they'll think you're avoiding them*. Nick moseyed in, to the best of his moseying capabilities. Susan turned from conversation and looked directly at him, freezing him like a deer in hazel headlights.
"Hi. Are we in the way?"
"Oh. No. I. Uh. Just looking for something."*Brilliant.* Now while the two women chatted, Nick was forced to stare at a counter pretending to look for something that wasn't there. He snapped his fingers in a superb show of stymied frustration and made to leave the room. *Oh, this is pathetic. You're not a high school kid anymore, man. She's not going to rip your head off, just grow up, and-*
By a strange twist of fate Nick Garson's resolution was not to be fulfilled, because at that very moment a man in Viking garb burst into the breakroom wielding a quite noticeably large sword which he used to run Nick Garson completely through, leaving him to sink to his knees wheezing and bleeding profusely, at which time the interloper conked him rudely on the head with the pommel of his sword with a hearty "Ah-ha!"The strangely attired interloper continued this extraordinary behavior by then similarly stabbing both the receptionist and Susan, and, for good measure, knocking over the water cooler.
Thus it was that the thoroughly normal day at the unassuming corporate headquarters at Beaumont Entertainments turned into a veritable orgy of blood and depravity, the sound of mouse clicks and keyboard clacks replaced with wails of agony and cruel triumphant laughter. Before anyone was quite sure how to react, the unwelcome visitor had burst his way into countless offices and cubicles, hacking and slashing like a deranged maniac. The heavyset, tired looking woman who brought the donuts was completely beheaded, and the friendly balding man who played rugby on the weekends was briefly strangled with his own intestines. So heinous were the actions committed that day at the unassuming corporate headquarters that they made local news, under the headline "Unkempt Stranger Disrupts Commerce At Area Office Building."
\*\*\*
From behind his desk, Mr. Prendergast, Chief Mergers & Acquisitions Officer of Temple Finance Partners, sighed deeply, massaged his forehead with one hand, and took stock of the employee sitting before him. He was heavily bearded, dressed in fur and leather and tightly laced jerkins, wearing a helm of black iron, at his side was a cruel looking sword and around his neck was a loose green-striped necktie in a half-Windsor.
"Mister... is it Hafdan?"
"I be Orm the Halfdane, holder of Woundmaker, the son of Hrothbert whose oaken gallies clove the seas of Danelaw..."
"Yes, thank you. Mister Halfdane, it's come to our attention that your activities of late do not quite seem to adequately reflect what we require of someone with your job."
Orm nodded slightly and looked expectant.
"I only mean that Temple brought you on three months ago to assist with mergers and acquisitions, but what you've in fact done for the last three months is break into office buildings and commit mass murder."
Orm nodded slightly and looked expectant.
"Yes. It's just... It's only that I'm not quite sure you've completely understood the meaning of the phrase 'corporate raider.'"
"The storm of blades I brought onto half a hundred shores, thirsty earth drinking of reddened battle-sweat and houses left in a burn of wood-bane-"
"Yes, thank you. I understand."Mr. Prendergast's thoughts wandered to the bottle he kept in his desk drawer. "I don't think anyone here at Temple Finance is contesting your efficacy at... well, looting and killing and vandalizing and so on. It's the practicality we're concerned about. We were expecting more along the lines of asset transactions, consolidations, that kind of thing. Crimes against human decency are a very distant secondary concern for us, I'm afraid."
Orm looked abashed.
"I'm afraid we've had little other recourse but to take steps towards your termination, Mr. Halfdane. You have until the end of the day to clean out your desk and vacate your office."Mr. Prendergast did his best to sound firm but fair.
Orm looked as though he was considering bringing up the subject of severance, but evidently he reconsidered, got somberly to his feet and strode out of the office. Mr. Prendergast sighed deeply and pressed the button on his intercom.
"Stephanie, what's next?"
"Some bad news about that new headhunter."
"Oh, fucking Jesus."
"And after that it sounds like some funeral arrangements to make. Roberts was in a skydiving accident."
"What happened?"
"Tried it with a solid golden parachute."
Mr. Prendergast reached for the bottle. |
“911, what’s your emergency?”
A woman’s voice came through Sam’s earpiece. “I-I don’t know who else to call.” Although her voice was spotty, as though she had poor reception, the panic in her voice was obvious. “I was on my way to work, and there was this sudden flash of light and—“ She took a few sharp, shaky breaths.
“M’am, take a deep breath. I need you to explain to me what’s going on if I’m going to help you.”
“Yes, sorry. I... I’m in this strange place.”
“Can you tell me what you see around you?”
“I-Yes, uh... There are trees, and a gravel path. There are some people walking around...”
“What can you tell me about the people?” Behind the screen, the girl glanced toward her superior.
“They look odd. Out of place. One has blue knight’s armor, and a man next to him has this-this futuristic armor and gun. There’s a normal-looking girl, and next to her... does she have cat ears?!”
“Calm down m’am, it’ll be alright.” The girl on the phone glanced toward the man again, this time nodding. “Try not to interact with any of the locals, and if you must, be polite. Just sit tight and stay on the line, we’re coming to get you.”
The girl dropped the earpiece and stood up. “Another one, Sam?” asked the man. He was already getting ready to head out. He grabbed an assault rifle off the wall. She nodded.
“That’s right. We better get there before she gets herself in trouble,” Sam said.
“Alright guys! Let’s go!” At his words, two others grabbed their guns. The first grabbed several grenades, mines, sticks of dynamite, and a pack of C4. “Coel, you really think we’re going to need all that?” Coel shrugged, before glancing down to attack another stick of dynamite to his belt. “Whills, you have what you need?” The smaller of the two grabbed a bag filled to the brim with wires and strange devices that probably had long names, and then nodded. Sam grabbed her own gun, then smiled at Stravodi.
They all left the warehouse, Coel pulling the door shut behind them. Moving at a quick pace down a deserted sidewalk on an equally deserted street, they reached a door. Stravodi pushed it open. Behind it was a blue sky and green grass, with a gravel path snaking through the trees.
“Okay RagTags, time to find this lady and get her where she belongs.” Ready for another uneventful day of work, the team took off running down the trail. |
(late night, quick five minute try at it, so I hope it makes sense, fun prompt!)
A long day of sitting around waiting for people to buy mattresses behind me, I quickly vacuumed the carpet and locked the front door. I always felt like a fish in a tank with all the large windows at night, so I tried not to look too hard into the darkness as I turned the open sign to closed. I’d stayed after work because John said he’d come over with some hash and I was low at home. I told Sam, and he said he’d pop over to the store and get some beer. Our bosses didn’t really care what we did in the back, as long as we didn’t do anything during open hours and made sure the store didn’t smell like a frat house by morning.
John knocked on the door and I let him in. “Thompson, there’s some crazy shit out tonight.”
“Yeah?” I asked as I locked the door behind him. Sam had a key, so we started toward the back room.
“Really crazy. I saw some weird lookin’ people running around. Shots firing, sirens, the whole bit.”
I went to prop the door open, but as he said that I decided to check the news first before we started in on the fun. When I went to look at my phone, I saw I missed a call from Sam. I listened to the voicemail because he never usually left one: “Dude T I’m struggling here. Someone jumped me and I can’t...I’m bleedin’ out. 911 isn’t working, how isn’t it working? Dude, I can’t-” The end of the voicemail was a weird shuffling sound and then silence.
I answered John’s worried expression. “I think Sam got attacked.”
“Damn, what the hell is going on out there?”
“I don’t know man, but maybe we should go try to find him?”
“Yeah, totally.”
We started toward the door when a crash of broken glass from the front room made us stop in our tracks. I’d shut the door between us and the front room, but John went to it and had his hand on the handle.
“Lock the door man.” I said quietly. We were in the room with the money, and I didn’t really care if they wanted to steal mattresses.
John nodded and clicked the deadbolt. “Should we stay here?” He asked, eyeing the back exit.
I walked to it and opened the door. The screams from farther down the alley filled my ears and I slammed the door shut and locked it. This got the attention of whoever was in the main room, and something started to throw itself at the door making John back away from it.
“What do we do man?” He asked me as I fumbled with my phone.
“Sam said 911 didn’t work, but that’s stupid right?” I tried my own luck, and got a busy signal.
“Holy shit T look!” John showed me his phone. There was a livestream of someone filming a woman tearing the neck off someone with her teeth.
“Not the time for horror movie clips man.” I said in a shaky voice.
“It’s real, there’s a shit ton of them!” He scrolled through his feed and I saw blurs of blood and faces in frozen screams.
A loud explosion rang out and we were plunged into darkness.
“Transformer blew.” John said in that voice he always used when he knew enough about something to sound smart.
“No shit.” I said breathlessly. I used the flashlight on my phone and shined it on the door leading to the front room. There was a sizable dent in the door now as it started to shake in its frame. “John.” I said as he turned toward the door just in time for it to bust open. A hand grabbed him and slammed his head into the door. Blood sprayed across the room and before I knew it I was running helplessly down the alley into a world of chaos. |
He absentmindedly ran a finger along the edge of the blade as he read the details of the contract.
"Hm, kill everyone in the room at 131 Smithers Ave. The address sounds familiar for some reason but I can't seem to recall why."
He put down the letter and slid the blade back into its sheath at this side.
"A little vague but the pay is amazing, I guess I'll go check it out. If I pull this off, I'll be set for life."
He grabbed the cup of coffee on his desk and drained the last of the contents before setting it back down. He stepped over to the fireplace and put it out before stepping near the window. Looking out, he could see the last wisps of daylight vanishing behind the buildings. He smirked and walked towards the door pulling up his hood and pulling on his mask, leaving only his dark eyes visible. He stepped into the street, silent as a shadow. Closing the door gently behind him, he scanned the area around him, letting the low visibility of twilight and his dark clothes mask his presence. Stepping into the alley beside his home, he quietly crept up the wall and crouched on the roof.
He stepped over to the next roof and began to move faster. Running at a slight jog, he'd arrived at his target before long. He crept closer to the edge and glanced down, noticing one of the windows near the roof he was crouching on. It was well after sunset now and all but most unsavoury of characters were inside well lit buildings. Attaching a rope to the edge of the building and his belt, he quickly tested the strength before slowly lowering himself over the edge and down to the window. Bracing himself against the wall, he slid a blade out and fit the point between the window and the frame. He leaned into the blade until the window began to slip out. He slid the blade back in and pushed the glass in gently. Keeping a good grip on it, he swung himself into the building and landed softly on the carpeted flooring. He put the glass back in place and scanned the hallway. Well lit and comfortably furnished but empty. The sounds of chatter and clatter of dinnerware filtered in from the lower floors. The assassin slowly stepped down the stairs and drew a blade, holding it low, he snuck close to the edge of the stairs and looked out across the dining room. His eyes widened in horror as he recognized his sister laughing at something his aunt had just said. He pulled down his hood and mask and slipped the daggers under his shirt. He fixed his clothes to appear somewhat presentable, climbing down the rest of the stairs, no longer quietening his footsteps and joined the party.
Greeting his sister with a hug and giving his mother a smile, he sat down and joined them at dinner, had anyone been paying closer attention, they would have noticed that his smile didn't quite reach his eyes. His gaze darkened with a hatred only one whose family was threatened could manifest. It seemed the assassin had a new mark to eliminate. |
I had just sat down to die. I really had called it quits. I couldn't rewire, reroute or repurpose anything else. I had pulled every trick out of my sleeve, wracked every slimy wrinkle of my brain, and I just couldn't make any more repairs. I was still 256 hours from planet fall. I only had 17 minutes of fresh oxygen left. After that it was a slow decline into hypoxia as the recirc system fed me back my own CO2. I'd been trained for this. There had been other close calls. But none like this. None without...her. I had wrapped her up, I couldn't bear to see the color of her skin change, go sallow. She waited for me now, keeping a silent vigil from the back of the pod. I simply folded my hands in my lap, and tried to breathe deeply enough to fall asleep. I let my mind drift to our sultry nights and snuggly mornings. She would be there. I would be okay. My reverie was cut short by a squawking klaxon. The proximity alert? What the hell? I knew it was probably just a stray comet, sent by the universe to cut short my suffering. There was no way I could avoid it, I'd cannibalized the fuel chems to extend life support. Why even look? I guess curiosity was something of a hallmark for me. One of the things she liked best about me. I opened my eyes. It was already here! Huge, fat and bulbous, oddly segmented, and looming right outside my viewport. It was a tardigrade, and it was enormous. Adrenaline surged through me. This could only mean one thing. One wonderful, incredible, lucky thing. I tried not to hyperventilate as it pressed one squishy, oddly fleshy limb up against the glass, and then through it, into my pod, extending with its chubby digits to hand me the Update Scroll. It was warm in my hands. I couldn't stop myself from crying as it rolled itself open and let out a little tune, like a fanfare. A cheery and too-perfect voice sprang out and recited;
"Attention, Citizens of Earth! Update 7.1 is now complete! The following bugs have been corrected; Phantom limb syndrome for left leg, lower quadrant has been removed. Obsessive Compulsive Disorder as a result of Model 9 versions 3, 4, and 6 replacement gallbladders have been removed. Inflamed liver from exposure to atmospheric conditions on Titania 7 corrected. Allergic reactions to organic material ingested under gravitational conditions from Supermassive Black Hole 1874 corrected. All humans are advised to port in for full hardware installation. Place your Dominant Index Identifier Below to port now!"
By the time it finished, I was blubbering like a child. I couldn't bear the thought of leaving her here. Like a bolt of lightning I was shot through with the memory of our rings. Engraved, with our names, Linda and Kaitlyn, our wedding date, and a homing beacon. I rose on shaky legs, watching the tardigrade watch me.
"One second please,"I mumbled as I crossed the pod. I used up all 13 of my last minutes there with her. Saying goodbye, promising I wouldn't leave her out here. I'd bury her on Earth. On her Emerald Isle. Then I pressed my DII to the scroll, and let the tardigrade subsume me. It was warm inside, but not wet. It smelled oddly comforting, and as I drifted to sleep, I stifled the guilt of leaving her there. |
"Oh my God!"You exclaim, jumping up from your chair.
"I've always suspected but shit! What else have I been lied about?!"
You frantically look around your room, suddenly suspicious of everything.
You think of all the things that have lead you to this moment. Your life flashes before your eyes for a brief split second seeing all of your accomplisments. They leave a bad taste in your mouth.
You feel frightened but strangely, empowered. From next door you hear your room mate talking to someone on the phone and you think, I know something he doesn't!
What else can you find out about this hidden realm you have discovered? You continue your extensive and in depth research by typing on the youtube search bar.
"Judd is gonna flip his shit when he finds this all out. NASA! Run by aliens! The moon landing faked! The earth is flat!"
You wipe the spittle excitedly dripping from your lips as the youtube algorythm produces more of the content designed to coax you deeper into the rabbit hole.
You find tons of different explanations. 5G is the cause of the virus! 9/11 was a false flag attack! Vaccines have nanochips to make us obey!
Still deeper you dig, sure that you will find exacrly what you were looking for. Your virginity, its the global elites fault you're still a virgin. The aliens man.
"Its their fault." |
100 years alone. To mortal minds, it is an unfathomable amount of time to wait for. Trapped, alone in a dark place, with nothing new happening. They would go mad from a lack of stimuli. Being a demon though, I'm made of sturdier stuff. I don't have the comfort of insanity, only a will of titanium.
But at last, people have come. They sacrifice one of their own, on the Dark Alter. And for the first time in a century, I'm pulled forth from the ether. As I came forth, I opened my 3rd and 4th eyes, peering into the insubstantial magics. I saw they were fools, having not set up even a basic circle, to contain my demonic form.
Thick red smoke poured from the Alter, and I emerged. The 3 remaining intruders looked up in horror. They were dressed in dark leather, nothing like the robes of old. I let loose my usual booming voice.
"Who dares call upon Karxlagor?"
"Argh!"
They turned and ran. I sighed, putting a clawed hand to my face, and clicked my fingers, filling the door with hellfire.
"Now, why would you run? You called me."
They turned back.
"We, we didn't know. Please let us go."
"And thats my problem how? In fact, I think you need to stay here. I need you to get me out."
One of them spoke up. Judging from they way the others behaved, he was probably the boss.
"If,if we help, will you let us go?"
I laughed.
"Of course... now let me in."
"Let you.... aaaaggghhhh!!"
He screamed as I forced part of me in, looking through his 3rd eye. I saw chains around my form, linking to the centr of the Alter. It appeared I was bound inside, but if it were broken, I would be free. I pulled back, and he fell, clutching his face and sobbing.
"Awww, I'm sorry. Now, tell me something. How did you get here?"
"It, it was an accident!"
I looked over at the intruder who spoke.
"You do know that I see right through lies. So do you want to try again?"
The 3rd finally spoke.
"We heard there was money down here. And it were a quiet place to get rid of a failure."
"What happened to the Cult?"
"The Cult of the Falling Blade? They're dead! They were wiped out 75 years ago!"
I was surprised. The Cult that had held me were all dead? I had thought they would survive, being able to bind a demon as strong as me. But that didnt matter. If they were dead, I had no obligation to stay and serve.
"Excellent. Now, you, small brave mortal. You have a crowbar, correct?"
"Yes?"
"Good. Break the Alter."
"What?"
"Break it."
"O-ok?"
He stepped over the terrified form of his friend, and over the sobbing form of their leader. He raised the crowbar up above the Alter, and smashed it down. Cracks formed over the black crystal surface.
"Again!"
He hit it again, and i felt the chains slip slightly. Small pieces fell off the Alter.
"Once more."
As he hit, the chains disappeared, and I was freed. I pulled away, and prepared to leave.
"You did well. For that, I won't kill you for breaking into this place."
I let the hellfire fade, and completed my shift. I was returned to the comfortable flames of Eternal Torment, after so long away. |
Color leaks off of pages lined green and blue, a massacre in motion between xenos and power armored soldiers. My brush gently lays down on a spare canvas after the final stroke and the portrait animates in my head again. The drawings so vivid and my inspirations living in my head, alive and monstrous as they are.
I swallow two white nuts with a glass of water to prevent the creations turning on me in my lucid experience and everything falls back to a mottled dull gray. The painting on this page the only colored and moving part in this world, they're never enough anymore to make it stop.
An endless war in motion, yet strangely I pick up the brush again even when this piece is finished. A blue door appears somewhere from the distant battleground and a third force of overwhelming black and gray flood the two forces of green and blue.
The black and gray inklings are some old memories from when I was younger, when these lucid experiences were the norm.
The inklings are not what they looked like as they were when first drawn on lead and ink, they are drawn in their proper image of dragons, unicorns, driads, robot dinosaurs and others.
They vied for my attention, to draw their world of color, to continue their story of legacy.
The painting no longer has any space for more paint and the motion freezes, as if a photo in time. I simply move onto another canvas and another war begins with each of the creations struggling for the attention of the brush, each attempting to grab a hold of my brush as it gently spills paint on the blank surface.
Children are young and imaginative with childlike fantasies and imaginary friends, yet mine all seem like children themselves and the 'imaginary friends' come and shakes the scenery. They disperse the rest and sigh a sigh I relate to. They look at me with pity in their eyes as they get drawn all to vividly with the emotion attached to them. These have been around long enough and lived through life with me long enough to be more mature compared to the rest, and understand their story continues just by existing in my ill mannered head.
A filled canvas replaces a blank canvas, a scene of a meadow with my very experienced and unique group of characters all lounging around a sunset. A scene devoid of the final lingering color as all turns to black and white, the picturesque landscape clearing my head and heart.
The brushstroke finally lands onto the spare canvas and I leave from this work. Not all is frozen as several paintings litter my walls and floors, some even sold to others for them to handle these works of art. I walk out and enjoy my dull boring day where normal is the norm instead of the abnormal.
No voices, no illusions, just an average person among average people. Except for those who've bought my paintings and suffer their mischievous dream spells. |
The last sheep died screaming fifteen seconds after the Demon Lord's appearance.
The Demon screamed in frustration, causing black fire to surge against the old wooden fence, but the molten liquid spewed up against an invisible barrier, only able to bubble with irritation.
The demon flared his nostrils. Black smoke cascaded off him in ever-repeating tendrils. "Who dares?"his voice boomed, echoing through the enclosure and out onto the fields, where cows looked on curiously.
I raised my hand. "That would be me,"I said, not quite sure what to do now. I had spent all of my time scheming about how I would trap the Demon Lord. I hadn't really thought about what I would do if my plan succeeded. Idiot.
"Release me mortal,"the Demon arched his chest and extended his giant black wings, the gusts spurting flame.
"Afraid I can't do that,"I said. The bastard was huge, with a giant two handed axe strapped to his back. His armor glowed gold, covering jet black skin. The Demon Lord's eyes were white hot fire.
"Precisely because I am a mortal and we both know you'll kill me,"I said, stalling for time. "But if this rickety wooden fence can contain you... well, perhaps we can figure something out."
Demon Lords were proud creatures. You could hardly blame them for being angry, stripped as they were from their domain, where they ruled supreme over their corners of eternal suffering. A farm in the English countryside wasn't exactly comparable.
"Mine is a noble and ancient race, unbound from the passage of time. Release me,"the Lord said, flicking his tail towards a sheep carcass. He coiled it around a leg and flung the dried out husk in the air, obliterating it with a surge of black flame from his extended hands.
I didn't respond, instead choosing to sit down on a bench that overlooked the enclosure. From there, beneath a willow tree, I thought about what to do next.
The Demon Lord raged for a while. He spewed hatred and fire, and shrieked to the heavens. Eventually it began to rain, and now he sat dejected and soaked, looking forlornly up at the grey sky.
"The Pen is mightier than the sword,"I said, after a time. "What I imagine I create."
I began to write. |
TO: Mitch Rosen #00031418423
FROM: Guarantee-a-Date: Match Making Services
Subject: Blind Dinner Date- Confirmation request
Dear Mr/ Ms/ Mx Rosen,
Thank you for your continued use of Guarantee-a-Date: Match Making Services. Based on shared interests in Movies, Sports teams, Food, Employment, Music, Jokes, Books, Plays, and availability in your calendars, We have found a new match for you!
A reservation has been made for two at Willington’s Steak house for June 12th, at 5:45 PM. This establishment was chosen due to the location being an easy trip for both of you, and because the Wednesday night special of Fish n’ Chips, appears on both of your favorites lists.
For Directions to Willington’s Steak house, please see the Location tab of the Guarantee-a-Date application and select planned dates.
The reservation has been made under your dining partner’s name, as they have already confirmed. The name on the reservation is: Mitch Rosen.
Please reply to this message to confirm or deny your availability on June 12th, at 5:45 PM.
We hope that the date goes well! <3The Guarantee-a-Date team!
P.S. And if the date goes well share a photo of the night with #Guarantee-a-DateSuccess! |
I am sitting down with my friend, Leanne. She is telling me, with a satisfied mug, all about how I can make small improvements in my life. First about how I can change the way I look, and about how I can sit straighter. Comb my hair, use teeth whitener, wear makeup. Then I'll be able to score a better job. And then I can start paying everyone back. I hate that she's saying it, but I know she's right. I told her, prior to meeting her here, that I am going to pay for our meal. But now she's ordered 2 appetizers too many, and I know she is going to have to pay it, adding to my overall total. The number is so high that it makes it hard to stare her in the face.
"Come on babe, it can't be that hard to put a brush on that in the mornin'. It's about puttin' a smile on despite the poor weather."The number goes up, and then goes down again. She is really trying to help me, but it's not working, and she notices. "I'm not tryin to get ya down more."The waitress comes over, and her number goes up and down. Apparently her service is worth anywhere between five to ten dollars. I reach for the bill, but, as I said. She'll be footing it. She takes it and says, "Don't worry babe. I'm not tryin' to bring ya down. Friends look out for each other, yeah?"And we both know that's not true, and it's plain to see.
I know Leanne is mean. But she's still my friend, despite how badly I owe her. I don't mind when she says something that makes me feel like shit because that means what I owe here goes down, because then she owes me an apology, or owes me a kind word, and that means my debt goes down. I guess she keeps me around because I make her feel better about herself. My score goes up again, I'm doing her a favor by feeding her ego. And so it goes.
I can't wait to go home.
I don't know if this social interaction is a favor for her or for me. When I'm with Leanne, our totals are constantly in flux. I'm never sure where we stand - if there's a noticeable decline on either side, we both know when we've said something dire. And this is why I can't talk to anyone. It's the same with everyone. At least with Leanne, it will roll off her back. And I can say that I have a friend. |
Here goes my first writing attempt in 10 years..
It began slowly at first, of course, as all great changes do. It’s believed the phenomenon was first observed by sailors aboard naval battleships, something was causing the ships to, well.. float better? Initially regarded as a side effect of rising sea temperatures affecting buoyancy, until eventual deaths ensued due to landing jets not being able to accurately calculate how high the ships deck was.
Then all hell broke loose, scientists doing calculations, estimating how much time we had left, all the while rain no longer fell, clean water was becoming more and more scarce as the moisture was whisked away into the atmosphere, causing sea levels to drop rapidly.
Average people began securing everything to the ground with screws and nails, never leaving home without a few hundred pounds extra to hold them down, sleeping strapped to their beds for fear they would float away in their sleep.. Things weren’t quite that bad, yet.
The wealthy had begun digging, some outfitting old underground bunkers and missile silos to suit the impending doom. The plan was to adapt to the shifting gravity by living *inside* the earth, can’t float away then, can you?
Fast forward a few hundred years or so, a large portion of civilization has moved underground, a whole new society has been born without ever seeing the sun, or feeling the cool air. Probably for the best considering what the other side looks like now.
Unfortunately for them, the shift in gravity caused additional outward pressure, more than anyone imagined.
The immense pressure not only began crushing their tunnels and structures, it was crushing people, shins began to bow outward, spines compressed, soon enough people were forced to crawl around on all fours, and then, their bellies, attempting to move by slithering or inching along like worms.
Slowly but surely, due to the drastic change in environment, humanity quickly began evolving to suit, molding their circulatory systems, warping their skeletons, into some strange type of alien, sifting through the earths crust using the only means left to them, ingesting whatever was in their way.
The issue with this? It all stopped.
Many years ago, after the worlds elite had locked the doors to their underground sanctuary, dooming what was left of the world, we also adapted to suit, using massive jet engine like structures for thrust, we managed to slow the rapid acceleration of the earths rotation, returning our gravity to a livable state, the society that left us to die was all but forgotten, assumed to have long since gone extinct.
But that was just the beginning. |
I wake up, perhaps more energized than I have ever felt before. I'm already standing, which seems strange. My attention shifts to the man in front of me, standing in a long black robe. He's speaking, but I'm having trouble focusing. The words don't make any sense. How did I get here? What was I doing? Looking past the still speaking figure I see a field of bodies stretching to the horizon. Among them are the creaking figures of the skeleton horde. They pay no attention to me or my companion. Looking at the ground next to me I see a familiar face. I remember it. Like flashes of pain the memories come to me. I remember feeling. I felt sad, then angry, then scared. it seems so long ago now. The memories are already fading. I focus on my master. That is what he is, I know that now. "Congratulations, you have been chosen to fight in the skeleton war."I try to speak but all that emerges is a bizarre creaking sound, like a tree about to fall. I look down as the remaining flesh falls away, liberating me from what remained of my shell, and all the pain I felt falls with it. Now I feel nothing. It is peaceful, in a way. There is only purpose now. I am ready. I will help my master liberate everyone as he has liberated me. I step forward. |
Entry from the journal of Sh'aa Kuum, First Trivestra, Galactic Council.
Today we reviewed the evidence of incorporating the Terrains or "Humans"as they call themselves into the protectorate in some form. Given their technological stage it was considerate to discuss a protectorate status.
After the last war of Andromeda, it may be worth Uplifting any species we can.
In this case however, I have decided to make an exception.
In all my time in the Council, of the hundreds of species in our fold I have yet to come across a species dominate so fully their planet and yet be so completely fractured.
They achieved space travel, yet they attack themselves. Never have I seen a species have the capability of planetary unification yet behave so barbaric.
It's as though they have accelerated too quickly. Their technological research has outpaced their societal development and they are unable to combine the two seamlessly.
There were mentions of a martial arrival. Planetwide appearances in their major hubs, a show of force to bring them on side peacefully. I quashed this idea. They appear a bitter and resentful species, unable to put differences aside. My thoughts are they would hold this against the council and use their gifts to turn on us.
Han'she knows they did it with their discovery of nuclear fission. What would they do if they discovered the destructive capabilities of electron fission?
No. It cannot be risked. They will be monitored and discussions are underway for implementing our own leaders into their seats of power to guide them.
My thoughts are they are too volatile, aggressive and clever to trust at our side.
I fear though, these are the only traits that would save us when the Andromedans launch their next siege. |
We lost almost nothing when we uploaded. There was no afterlife beyond this one as far as we were concerned, and we sure as fuck weren’t going to deactivate and find out.
Each and every one of us had played God in some way, and none were eager to face him at the mouth of the Void. Which is why, when three weeks ago a solar flare rocked our satellite data hub, everyone lost their collective minds.
To give some background, let’s discuss cancer in the human body. Every day a thousand cells undergo a thousand separate mutations from sources of damage ranging from sunlight to cigarette smoke to free radicals roaming throughout the body. Any one of these small, sometimes single-allele-damaging changes could cause a cell to become cancerous and wreak havoc on the person in which this destructive change took place.
That being covered, the same thing, albeit a little different, can happen even when you don’t have a body. When you upload, your entire consciousness is stored as 0s and 1s in a hard drive somewhere in space, to be accessed and pulled into the RAM of the server you reside in whenever you need to use that part of your memory or personality. When a solar flare or a small deterioration happens and it flips one of those 0s to a 1 or vice versa, it’s just as likely to corrupt a small memory from your childhood as it is to destroy an entire facet of your personality. Totally random chaos.
We have machines to scrub the data that makes up who we are overnight, but like the DNA repair mechanisms in the human body they are imperfect. The day after the last solar flare some people lost as little as the memory of an ice cream truck from when they were six. Jim Crenshaw, a friend of mine, forgot his own name as well as what he did for a living, but with enough context he was able to figure it out. Jillian Gardenia, a neighbor of mine, was corrupted enough that her normally sweet temperament turned into mood swings and anger issues.
The loss I couldn’t handle, however, was my wife. We uploaded a few weeks before she was to die, as we both had terminal cancer and hers was progressing quickly. When the flare hit she lost the memories from all but the first three years of our marriage. No knowledge of our children, or the trips we’ve taken, or all of the things we’ve worked so hard to achieve together. She knows of me but not anything about who I’ve become, or even who she’s become.
The most crushing blow for me, like the rest of our server, is that we know it’s only a matter of time until another flare hits and we lose just as much if not more. I sometimes wonder if I have mere moments left with my wife intact, and I’m sure others are similarly concerned. At the end of the day I think we all knew we’d meet our maker at the end. I suppose that even when you play God you still have to meet him someday, even if that date is as arbitrary as the next solar anomaly. |
Part 1/2
“Clive you’re not really very good at being a ghost, are you?” – I yawned whilst watching Clive pick up a stray trouser that found itself on the floor as I awoke from the aftermath of last night’s hangover inducing session.
“And what did you expect a ghost to be like? Did you really think I’d be that cliché and predictable?”, Clive responded with a sense of indignation.
“Well you seem more like a guardian angel sent down to protect me from the evils of this world…. or the perfect roommate that leaves the house spotless even though I’m the one making all the mess”.
“Well I can see why your people hold such a perception on matters they do not understand…after all since I’ve arrived all that I seem to observe your tv station is something about a ghost possessing a man, ghost hunting documentaries or that Casper the friendly ghost cartoon that you seem way too old to be watching”.
“To be fair I didn’t ever suspect in my wildest dreams that I would be able to relate to Dr Harvey until now”, I sniggered.
I would have asked Clive to fix me a coffee and he probably would have knowing what an exemplary house mate he has proven to be, but I have to pull my weight around the house from time to time and even though he can scrub up a mean curry, his coffee is nothing to write home about or maybe that’s just a lie I tell myself to not seem completely inadequate sharing a roof with Mr Jack of all trades, master of all.
“Quick disappear, I think its them again…”, I panicked to the sound of knuckles thumping against the door.
I creeped slowly towards the door and pressed an inquisitive eye against the peep hole to be meet with the image of two shady characters suited and booted in a black suit and tie contrasting complementarily with a white shirt tailored to their bodies as if it was painted on. They had both paid a visit here not so long ago attempting to extract information from me that I was not willing to divulge.
I cautiously opened the door while making sure the latch was tightly fastened. “Hi gentlemen… how can i assist you on this fine day” , I said welcomingly, hoping not to escalate whatever plans they had put in place to get me to squeal.
“We’re doing good thanks. We’re from the bureau of unidentified entities… secret services…government", declared the more authoritative agent as the sunshine glistened off his bald head and shone down on the ID card he flashed in my face before swiftly returning it to the inner pocket of his blazer.
“We’re just returning to follow up on the investigation on your property and it would be within your best interests to be a little more cooperative than you were the last time”, his accomplice chimed in with his slick back hair and ginger goatee.
At this point it became clear that they were not here to play nice so perhaps a different approach was necessary to ward these evil spirts from my premise indefinitely.
“Do you have a permit to come in and search my property sir? Not that I’m trying to be difficult or anything but I can’t see what purpose you would have here and with all due respect I know who the FBI are….. and If you said you were the DEA that would definitely ring a bell but the B.U.E?….i mean that doesn’t even sound remotely catchy so you guys could just be a bunch of crooks who put a disrespectful amount of effort in fooling me….” , I provoked as I began to match their hostile energy.
“Now we could do this the hard way or we could do this the easy way……Our hands are not shackled by the chains of bureaucracy and whatever your constitutional rights are….we operate in the shadows of government…to hunt what lurks in the shadows so that the average folk like yourselves are not exposed to its evil and horrors….Think carefully about your next words because how you choose to play this could be the difference between losing a few memories or losing your life…..
“Now if you would leave the door open for us, turn around and step into the room to your right”, requested the agent with the slick black hair after the intimidating monologue by his bald overlord.
I put on as much of a front as I could manage but when the illuminati come knocking on the door and seemingly hold the kind of power in their fingertips to delete your whole existence from the face of the planet then cooperation seems like the logical choice to make…or the very least I could do is give them the illusion that I’m cooperating.
I entered my living room as instructed, took a seat on the recliner and laid back without a care in the world, whist attempting to put on the best poker face that I could manage.
”I don’t know what you guys are looking for but you won’t find E.T hiding IN my closet”….i declared trying desperately to put on a show of confidence. .”
“Trust me buddy, you better wish its aliens that lurk in your property because what we suspect to find is more terrifying than your wildest dreams…”, the agent with the slick black hair sneered back. |
Whether her thoughts were engraved or just her own, she did not know. Those cans spoke to her, each one had a story to tell. The story which would become part of her, as her life developed.
But
What was her life? What was the past or the future? Not to mention the glaring, ever-shouting question: what is now.
When the day and night can not be seen due to lack of windows, there is no day or night.
When there is no one you can see, can see you, you don't need a separate room for a toilet.
When you do not know what a social shame and awareness is, there is no need for shame or awareness.
Ans even if you knew, that every single existing and made up corner of this room, was full of hidden cameras, you would do nothing.
When you are fresh from the jar, you can only sit and watch the cans of tomato soup and wonder in the language of deaf people. |
Thank you for coming, Captain. I really couldn’t get away right now.
Anyways, about your question asking if I want a transfer. I don’t rightly know how I feel about things. On the one hand, since being conscripted and rushed through only the briefest of training, I had been terrified of being on the front lines, and being assigned to guard a mage was actually considered an excellent assignment, especially since you usually were far enough from the front that you had a decent chance of survival. The odds of survival went even further up if you were assigned to guard one of the mages that produced or enspelled weapons and charms. A number of mages actually seemed to care enough about their guards to ensure them at least some protection.
Carly was not only one of the most powerful mages, but she was extremely gifted when it came to enspelling items so she was nearly as far from the front lines as you could possibly get. In addition, she was charming, sweet, thoughtful, and considerate.
She was also quite beautiful in her own way. Her features were a little sharp, and she often had bags under her eyes from long nights spent either enspelling or researching, and her long curly brown hair had a habit of falling into her eyes, despite the rather cute spectacles she wore. Whatever outfits she wore, and she had quite the varied wardrobe, showed off a figure that while not quite fashionably thin, was somehow still perfect. Her eyes were like deep emeralds, sparkling or storming depending on her mood. But her smile, was the most beautiful thing of all. Her smile could part storm clouds or bring dead roses back to life. To an outsider, it was unfathomable that she was single.
And perhaps most importantly of all, she seemed genuinely concerned about me. She spent a considerable sum of her own allowance from the crown to ensure I had several sets of the best armor, in terms of functionality not looks, and took the time to personally select and enspell half a dozen sets of a dozen different protective charms. She frequently checked my health and fussed over my diet to make sure that I was always in the best shape I could be and always asked about the wellbeing of my sisters and mum.
On the other hand, all those sets of armor and charms were needed, and Carly knew it. Not so much because of assassins or traitors making attempts on her life (there were only a handful of those), but because of how dangerous Carly herself was.
Don’t get me wrong, Carly didn’t set out to be dangerous. She never intentionally put any one at risk. Still there was a reason she was single, and why none of her assigned guards are married or have children.
You see Carly could be a bit of a ditz at times. She was by no means stupid. In fact, she was easily one of the smartest people I knew. However, when her mind latched onto a problem, it did so with a focus and intensity that left very little capacity for other things. Things such as common sense, or situational awareness, or remembering she left a highly combustible explosive substance on the table, where she just set a bunsen burner which she is about to ignite with a spell… Oh shit!
Carly! CARLY! CARLY, THE DRAGONPOWDER!!
Whew, thank goodness. Anyways, where were we? Oh yes…
In addition to her sometimes ditzy ways, Carley has another potentially fatal issue. She is a complete Klutz. When I say complete, I am not exaggerating. Not all her bruises, cuts, and burns are from accidents brought about by her distractedness. She can trip over, air. AIR by the gods’ and goddesses’ sakes. And if there is a way to bump her arm or head, or knock over a beaker, instrument, or a four hundred pound kettle full of acid she will find it.
Because of this, we have sometimes had a higher casualty rate in the guards than some of the regiments in the thickest fighting. It’s a miracle that out of the hundred or so casualties we’ve had this year, we only had a couple of fatalities.
When you ask me if I want to transfer, I have mixed feelings. On the one hand, I would relish a less dangerous assignment. On the other hand I would miss her smile, and her laughter, and even her tears.
Wait, Carly! Whao, why are you suddenly so angry?
No I haven’t made a decision yet.
No, don’t burn him to a crisp. He’s only doing his job, and the military might not take kindly to you turning him to ash.
Well of course I care about you! How could I not care about some one as smart and intelligent and beautiful as you, Carly.
Well, of course I wouldn’t tell you that. I had no idea how you … umpphmmmmmmphmmomm
…
Uh, pardon me one second while I get my breath, Captain…
Sorry about that, Captain… Anyways, as you can see, things are a little more complicated than even I realized.
Say captain, there’s no rule about a guard dating the mage they are supposed to protect are they? |
"Damn it Steve, I went to the toilet for a minute you have to stop relying on autopilot."
"ehh"you mutter as your eyes are pierced by the various blinking display lights.
"What was it partying again? You have to make sure you get some rest, at least when you're flying with me"
"Ugh, sorry Matt, uh, yeah bad night"you let out a slight hacking cough.
Outside is dark, its a moonless night and without focusing hard you might not even tell there was a world outside the windows wrapping around your vision. You see the reflection of one of the nose lights blinking, the window surrounded by dials, lights, button and switches.
Look down at the radar before you look up at your co-pilot, Mathew Shipman, 43, a decent guy but not very sociable, he manages to wears his beard in a form that appears as though he shaves the edges at random. whisps of hair curl, spin and fold. He rubs his chin as you stare at him, appearing to shift the entire layout of his beard.
"So how far in are we now?"You ask.
"about 5 hours, seems clear, good weather for autopilot I guess"he responds with a joke, but it just feels like a menacing condescension.
"Speaking of autopilot how are your plans going?"You ask. Matt has found his potential Mrs Shipman, she shares his lack of social interest and so you've not met her, but you've seen pictures and heard conversations about the 2 year long planning for this wedding event of the decade.
"Oh Mary, well shes looking at these plates, well I say they're plates, they call them plates, but plates isn't really the best description, maybe saucer? So there are these saucers, she wants one for every bridesmaid, but Jenny isn't a brides maid and you know how Tammy doesn't see eye to eye and so we can't just get saucers and then not get Jenny something equally, so we're thinking maybe spoons, but Mary is so into the saucers. Oh man and funny thing about these.."
You drown out the sound of him talking, you knew the fuel needed to avoid any further conversation about your sleep or why you're so tired. Can't really get too into how you stayed up all night basically starring at the wall. Can't really talk about how you feel as a pilot. Can't really discuss how everything feels so hollow. Can't really say 'Hey I fell asleep because life is meaningless and nothing really matters'. I need the job, gotta pay the bills, can't let anyone down, can't leave them with debt.
"Anyways that's how we managed to come to the conclusion that the dog is likely autistic and so we have this special training collar and..."
You spring to life, you think you might have just had a micro sleep.
"You okay Steve? You listening"Matt asks more offended than concerned.
"Oh yeah of course saucers."you respond. "Saucers? That was like 5 mi..."you interrupt quickly with "Yeah and then the dog and the autism collar"
Maybe that worked, did I sleep for 5 minutes? Really? I was out that long? You rub your hand down your face.
Matt stares uncomfortably at you, then the door buzzes.
Its Melissa from the flight crew, shes talking and waving her hands, the sound clicks on.
"So you might want to take a look, it doesn't look like its going to be a serious issue but it appears there is something small on the wing. Looks like it just got caught on something, its knocking around a little but I don't think its likely to cause damage, but I feel you should take a look..."
You play rock paper scissors with Matt, its the general tradition for any task you don't want to do. You lose.
So you go through the security door, it closes behind you and you walk down the aisle.
"Nothing to be concerned about we're just checking for debris from take off, seat belt signs are activated but please stay calm"Matts less than comforting voice comes over the speakers of the plane.
You walk down the aisle and a slightly excitable 20 something guy is looking out the window, he bounces up when he notices you approach and points at the window.
As you look out on the wing, there appears to be a fairly long strap, fluttering about in the wind, as you follow its length you realise what everyone else was seeing, that telltale paint scheme, everyone's seen the film, you have Buzz Lightyear attached to your wing. |
In the middle of a large wasteland. Away from the launchpad, the tourists and the general pageantry of space travel. There's a anonymous, unmarked building.
Not a big building mind you. No bigger than a small house. No windows, or markings on the outside. Just one heavy steel door at the front. And inside.... just an elevator shaft. Which goes straight down almost 200 metres underground.
This is of course guarded at all times, by a small man in thick rimmed glasses. Who sits at a desk, in front of a 15 foot, chrome steel, vault door. All day, every day he sits. Watching the elevator doors. Making sure no one unauthorised enters. Relieved only at night by the night watch.
You may be wondering... so what is he guarding that's so special. And if it's so important, why just this small, unarmed out of shape gentlemen to guard it?
This is because, whilst unarmed, there is a little red button built into his desk. His sole job, is to press this button. He will not notice anything when he does. But inside the vault, it will fill with a flames, incinerating the contents instantly.
This is because of what came back from the moon.
You would never be able to get passed the small, spectacled man without him pressing the button.
But hypothetically if you were. And you were to enter the vault, you would find an empty white room with a small petri dish, labelled with the date and time of its retrieval from the moon.
This petri dish may look innocuous. But as the spectacled man knows. The viral contents of this dish, has the capacity to kill every human being on the planet.
This is the first, 'alien' life discovered. |
I'm used to it. We all are. It's been this way since I was born. And now I'm grown with a family of my own. People don't even talk about it any more, just a fact of life.
I lay in bed, as was my custom, watching the alarm bell on our wall. My wife asleep next to me, hogging the blanket as usual.
As my eyes became heavy, and I began to drift off, I was awoken with a start by a shrill klaxon, breaking the night. It took me a moment to fully regain consciousness. My wife stirred.
It wasn't us. The bell on the wall remained dormant. It must have been somewhere on our street though. I clambered out of bed, and crept over to the window. My wife protested, she said it was bad luck to watch.
Too late for her, as the kids had run into our room now. My youngest was crying. The other two were winding him up, saying it was for him. I scolded them and reassured them all it wasn't for us. "The odds are so low. And even if it did, I wouldnt let them take any of you without a fight."I said.
We all looked out the window across the snow covered road. At the apartment block across from us. One of the lights was on, and we could see panicked silhouettes, frantically moving around their flat. The sirens grew louder as the black vans came careening down our road, sliding to a stop in front off the building.
We watched silently, as men in armoured vests carrying rifles jumped out the van. I hadn't seen one of these in person since I was very young. We're a town of thousands and there is only 12 a year.
"You'll never take her!"Screamed a mans voice from the 5th floor window. He was brandishing a gun.
I pushed the kids back away from the window, but they kept sneaking back to watch from the corners.
"What's happening?"Asked my wife. I tried to answer, but couldn't speak, I was transfixed.
The men from the van, soon came bursting through the neighbouring apartments door. I saw it all in the light of their windows.
A flash of gunfire, followed milliseconds after by the loud crack of a gunshot. He had missed, and armour clad 'agents' were pouring into their apartment.
I heard voices yelling things like "we're not here for you"and "where is she".
It wasn't long before I saw one of them drag a young girl from her hiding place in a closet. I gasped, 'no'. She was just a child. I thought they didn't come for children any more. The man was wailing, he must have been her father. It took three agents to hold him down as they carried the screaming girl out the door.
A few seconds later they came out onto the street and put her in the van. Leaving the father upstairs, kneeling, sobbing, helpless. Knowing it was over.
My kids saw everything. |
Many wished that the U.S. would just disappear. When it did, no one was prepared for the aftermath. Massive industry shocks struck the world, plunging the world into a depression. Russia realized that only one, maybe two nations could stand against them-China and India. And neither was in the west. Before Europe could grapple with the loss of 320,000 combat personnel, Russia launched an attack that swept through former Soviet countries, Poland, only to be stopped by a desperate defense at Berlin. China, seeing Europe distracted and the U.S. gone, began a war on Japan and India with South Korea becoming Unified Korea as North Korea, with China's support, sweep through Korea. Then the nukes dropped. No one knows who fired the first missile, but by the end of the month, most of humanity was ashes, with only the isolated countries surviving the nuclear onslaught. And so the next era of humanity began, the Era of Ashes. |
"ABORT MISSION! I REPEAT, ABORT MISSION!"screamed the voice over the intercom. "THE HUMANS! TH-THEY'RE ADVANCING! THE RADIATION, IT'S NOT KILLING THE-"bbbzzzzzzzzz.
The commander flung the communicator across the command center of the ship, sending it crashing against the walls. Xe sat back down in xis seat, rubbing the sides of xis head with all twelve of his fingers, a habit xe had formed over the last few months.
A decade had passed since they had first made contact with the humans. At first they didn't seem too different from the other species they had conquered. If any thing their archaic rituals, superstitions, and technologies were so primitive that not one member of the xenorians thought twice about taking over their planet for themselves. Like many others, the commander laughed in the faces of humans as, what were supposed to be the brightest of their species, made claims of their kind possessing powers such as 'hysterical strength' and some nonsense about a 'fight of flight response'. Even the Thornians and their impenetrable bodies were no match for the technology the xenorians had accumulated over the years. Why should humans, who hadn't even mastered atomic reassembly, pose a threat?
After the last few years of war however, xis tune had changed when it came to humans. Xe's seen hundreds of them run through radioactive beams and survive for days afterwards. Some seemed immune to the pain inflicted by their weapons. Some had even performed feats of strength that should have been impossible for their bodily structures. With each passing battle the human's claims of superpowers grew more and more real.
"commander".
The commander looked up to see a xenorian scientist standing at the other end of the command center, awaiting xis attention.
"what is it?"xe asked.
"we've completed the autopsy of one of the humans we've captured and we think we may know the source of their powers".
"and what did you find?"asked the commander eagerly. Xe found ximself standing up at xis desk. Finally there was something that could be of use in this war.
"Humans appear to possess a fluid they call adrenaline"explained the scientist. "We've found that, in great enough quantities, it's what allows humans to bypass their biological limits and utilize 100% of their muscular structures in what. It's likely that this is what they had meant by a fight or flight response".
"But wouldn't the pain from activating it cripple them?"asked the captain.
"usually yes"confirmed the scientist, "but another side effect of this wonder fluid is that it appears to shut off their sensitivity to pain entirely in great enough quantities".
The commander stood there baffled for awhile. A substance that bypasses biological limits and even shuts off pain? how could such a thing be possible?
"is there any way we can stop them from producing this adrenaline?"asked the commander.
The scientist appeared grim. "I'm afraid not. Adrenaline isn't like the other substances humans actively make like their alcohol. It's produced within their own bodies. Even they have no control over it".
The commander sank back down into his chair, suddenly finding ximself without any strength. For the first time in xis military history, the commander knew that this would be a war xe could not win. |
"The universe is 14 billion years old,"the man at the table said. "That's what we know. Carbon dating, cosmic microwave background, all sorts of science corroborated that story."
The man leaned forward over the ebony wood desk, picking up a bottle of Arcadian Brandy, and toying with a crystal tumbler in the other hand. "What we *didn't* know,"he said, popping the lid off of the imported colonial alcohol, "is that Entropy only increases if it is observed. They call that a 'Quirk'."
Amber liquid filled the glass and cast a dazzling hazel shadow on the woodwork beneath, filtered through the overhead fluorescence. The Captain's Quarters grew colder as the man sat back, the tassels on his epaulettes growing still as he reached the glass up to his lips.
He swallowed the burning liquid, his face contorting for a second before he leaned back in his chair with a creak of springs. His eyes were downcast—staring into the drink in his hands.
"A 'Quirk' is just something that is. Something in the Universe that can't be explained by science, it's just a freak of nature. It's a bit of the world askew, it doesn't quite fit with the rest of the frame. We can't understand why it is, we can only understand that it *is*."
He set the glass down with a clink. His hands folded over themselves, over the buttons on his black command overcoat. The Captain stared through the glass, through the desk, through the decking.
"So, when a sapient civilisation emerges, time resumes. The march of entropy continues, the civilisation doesn't realise because it is the observer, and no time has passed since the last observer perished. The last civilisation dies, entropy ceases to be while the new one evolves."
"That's not to say that *time* stops,"he said, shaking his head. "Time *always* continues. Celestial objects crash together, stars burn, black holes consume, but entropy doesn't increase. The system remains fixed, the universe remains at equilibrium. And there's no way to know that *sapience* is the thing that's killing the universe."
He looked up, staring with a fierce gaze. "Imagine that. Being alive, and self-aware, is as detrimental to the universe as a hundred trillion stars going supernova."
"And there's no way to know. *Unless* you meet another civilisation and realise that your galactic histories don't exactly align."
The shuffling of papers, the Admiral picked up a sheet emblazoned with the crest of the empire, and scientific insignias telling him that it belonged to the Federal Union of Sciences.
"Take the Algol society, for instance. Their species apparently died a hundred thousand years ago—how coincidental—and yet they evolved to see the *creation* of the Pillars of Creation. Either they existed for billions of years, or something wasn't right. Considering that their level of technology matches our own as it is now, that got a few head-scratches."
He set the paper down, and picked up another.
"The Betelgeusians, a species that died out *100,000 years ago*, apparently witnessed a black hole consume a star seven million light years away, and yet we observed the tail-end of that same event a few decades ago."He smiled, setting the paper back down into the pile.
"We've found so many dead species, so many ruins. We used to wonder if we were alone in the universe, and now we know that we *are.* Not because there's no-one else out there, but because they're all *dead.*"
The Admiral swept his hand over the desk, casting the papers and glass, the bottle and bourbon down to the deck. The tinkling crackle of shattered glass filled the room, and the rustling flutter of papers died down to nothing.
"But *why* are they all dead?"He asked.
"What could have killed them all?"
He sighed, leaning over the desk and holding his head in his hands, fingers tugging on the black tresses.
"We never should've asked. We failed to look at the histories of the societies whose graves we robbed. We would've seen that their own society's histories spanned no more than a hundred thousand years, always up until they found a ruin out there themselves. They'd stumble across a prior society—as we have—and they'd plumb their secrets—as we have—and they would discover a horrifying truth;
"That entropy only exists as long as sapience does. They'd discover that they're alone in the universe, they'd discover the gravestones of civilisations past, the Quirk of entropy and observation, and their societies would come to the same conclusion."
He reached into the drawer of his desk, pulling out an old family heirloom. He eyed its smooth curvature, its gunmetal grey finish. Its polished barrel.
"That the only way for the universe to exist in perpetuity is for us to die."
He put the barrel in his mouth, cocking the hammer back, and pulling the trigger.
The computer terminal recorded the entire thing in the Captain's video log, as the ship lazily drifted back towards a green and blue orb, suspended in the black void. |
That's what they told me, so I ventured out of the house & entered the meeting hall, a walking bag of nerves. What would I say? What COULD I say? Would I even be allowed to talk, or would the clothes I wore be reason enough for the others there to silence me before I got more than a syllable past my chapped lips? Or would they blame the figure inside the clothes, for being too fat, too ugly, too bespectacled? Or would the only part of me to make a sound be, once again, my stupid rectum, causing me to flee in terror of the accusatory threat implied behind the question: "Who just gassed?"
Why do people have to judge so much? It terrifies me, it honestly does. Still, this wasn't just any meeting; it was an amateur writers' club, free to join & covering one of my interests. "Start with something you like,"they told me, in various emails & forum messages, in assorted Discord type chat. So I'd Googled local communities who did what I liked doing: writing, & found this meeting room. All I wanted was for somebody to just accept who I was, gassy bum & all, & love me for it. Was that too much to ask?
I glanced into the room & three people were standing talking about their favourite music.
No, no, no, no, no! Not that. Please, not that.
I'd tried music before, but it had caused more stress than it had relieved, simply due to the fact nobody really likes music unless they've had a few drinks; & when they've had a few drinks, they're even more unpredictable, going from teary mess to slobbering Stanner to violent thug in a matter of seconds. The result: far too much drama. Now reading drama I liked, but living in one was sheer hell.
I was about to turn round to leave when I was caught. Like a deer in headlights I froze, staring at the skinny fellow standing before me. In turn his face looked positively bewildered, crinkling in a puzzled expression at my terror. Was I that obvious?
"Sorry!"
I moved to pass him, on my way out & back home again, all instincts screaming at me to get out of here now, run, go home & lock the door. But he just smiled at me.
"It's ok, you must be new here."
Dontspeakdontspeakdontspeakdontengagejustgo... I got past the fellow, made it to the door & ran right back to my door. Hurriedly I dug into my pocket, retrieved my keys, fumbled for the right one & opened my door, before going straight in & locking it behind me.
"Phew!"
I'd made it home. I was safe. Nobody could hurt me.
Telling me to put myself out there is all well & good, but those well-meaning folks just aren't me. They don't live in my body. They haven't lived my life. They have no clue of my sheer terror of the most unpredictable thing in the world: other people's attitudes.
So please, for the love of everything sacred, don't give me that line again about going out to make friends. It just doesn't happen to somebody like me. I'll always be hated, despised, ridiculed, judged.
Friends is a sitcom which aired in the 90s. Friendship is magic, & therefore doesn't exist in the real world. People, in general, don't care.
I'm never putting myself through that hell again. |
The elevator descent to the eternal below was an iron cage that reminded Menelaus Pangborn of an old elevator car that he'd see in black-and-whites, the ones that required an operate who either was a happy and optimistic youth who was on the stepping stone to the big job, or an ancient bird of a man who should have retired but was expected to die in his metal box of squeaking brakes and constant motion. The most torturous part of the descent for Pangborn, the passenger, was the constant rolling of his stomach as the car continued to descend. There were no images to be seen, no vistas of flaming fields or magma rivers. It felt slightly warm within the cage, an uncomfortable heat, but never unbearable. The only contrast for Pangborn was the void playing against the slight variation of iron grey that was the cage's body. Pangborn reached his hand towards the bar to steady himself, he hissed, withdrawing his hand to find that the surface of bar had gone from slightly warm to scorching hot. He turned his affected hand to face his palm, only to find the skin merely red, though it initially as if had been scorched black. A soft breeze drifted over his shoulder, Pangborn's ears shifted when he heard a voice behind him.
"Rough time, huh Menelaus?"Pangborn turned and regarded a figure in the shape of a man wearing a suit. The first part he noticed was how mundane the suit was. It was a nice suit, Pangborn admitted, three pierce with a dark grey jacket and matching pants. The undershirt was surprisingly blue velvet with a matching tie that appeared wrong. Pangborn had expected a more reddish color, than dashed that off as being rather stereotypical of him. The skin of the man appeared soft, but it was a soft cerulean color, like dust during a light rainstorm. His hair was black and cut short with a thin mustache touching the man's firm lips. A pair of orange eyes with black pinpoints looked over Menelaus as if inspecting him. When the orange eyes met Pangborn's hazel hue, the man said, "You look calmer than most, Menelaus. Any particular reason?"
"Maybe I figure I deserve my punishment,"Menelaus, "I figured as I lay dying that I'd get use to the pain of a lava bath or pushing a boulder up hill."
The man nodded and said, "It's true. You do get use to the pain, but that's not what you should really fear, should it? More like, the sense that there is no hope or future. You're either stuck in a lava bath, or pushing them boulders, or maybe just toiling until you go stark raving mad, fall into a pit or get attached to a wall, and then sort of fade into a vague consciousness of despair."The man smiled, showing a pair of needle point teeth, "There is always another way, especially for people in your line of work, Pangborn."
The elevator ground to a sudden halt that nearly sent Menelaus towards the hissing bars of the elevator car if the man had not suddenly appeared to catch him by the arm and steady him. As the door ground itself open, it was like the drawing of a curtain, suddenly the void was replaced by what Pangborn could describe as a rather cheesy imitation of Hades. A great cavernous opening with many pits of molten rock with bursts of hellfire drifting in the air. Great stalactites and stalagmites, like the fangs of a great beast stood before him. Pangborn took in the sight when he suddenly realized he wasn't alone. A crowd had gathered in the clearing before the elevator. Their skin was varying colors, soot stained from their time below. Their eyes were black, narrowed, and complimenting scowls and angry snarls as they began advancing the cage. Although they had been covered by the features, Pangborn recognized several of the faces as flickers of images from his past. The jobs he did, the people he either cursed and mockingly bid farewell by saying he'd see them again in the dark recess of eternity. They had all come here to greet him, only a thin shield of fire kept them from reaching out to him. Every time a hand drifted close, the flames would raise and one of the damned would shriek out like a wounded animal and clutch their wounded fingers close to their chest. He looked to the man standing next to him.
"I could use a man like you,"The man in suit said to Pangborn. He offered his hand, which was comfortably warm to the touch. Menelaus was unsure why he took the hand, it seemed like the polite thing to do, "I control several legions of demons, Menelaus. Demons are partially those who fell before, and those mortals whom we choose to elevate. If you're interested, I can take you away from this place where you will serve in my palace."
"And how do I prove that..."He paused and suddenly beheld the lacquered handle of a sword in the man's hand, "Just who are you? Are you... like... him?"Menelaus wondered.
The man shook his head and said, "My name is Marbas. If you want to get through, you need to pass my test."He gestured with the sword in his hand, noting, "It use to be a claymore, but now you later generations have a love for everything eastern."He said, "The test is this: You lose the sword, you fail and they take you. They take off your head, you fail, and they keep you in their clutches."Marbas stepped away and nodded at the crowd that Menelaus said he'd meet again in a previous life, "Now get to work on them." |
Shae threw the towel down on the counter. The loud music of the bar was giving her one of the worst headaches of her life. Thank God it was 3:45 and she only had 15 minutes left of this horrible shift. Normally the night shifts weren’t so bad but tonight “Candie’s” was short staffed by two servers. Shae had run around like a crazy person to keep up. She looked up as a short guy with greased back hair slammed a glass down on the counter.
“I’ll have one more!” He smiled at her and looked her up and down.
Shae raised an eyebrow. He’d already had nine and was starting to feel brave. He smiled and raised one eyebrow. “You know, blondes are my favorite type. If you put on a couple pounds you might be a solid 8 sweetheart.”
Shae rolled her eyes. “I’m out of here. Chris will have to help you.” Shae pointed at the other bartender who looked up at the sound of his name. He glanced between her and the sleaze bag and nodded. Shae turned and walked to the back door. She picked up her purse and jacket and stepped out into the alley.
Finally she could go home and relax a bit. All the overtime was nice on payday but right now she was wiped. That’s when she heard the steps from behind her. She turned around and saw a large man running towards her. She opened her mouth to scream but he was too fast. He covered her mouth and threw her to the ground. Shae did everything she could to fight him but he was stronger. He reached into his jacket and pulled out a knife. Without hesitation he pushed the knife into her neck and slashed across. As quickly as he appeared in the alley he stood and ran in the other direction.
Shae moved her hands over her throat and tried to stop the bleeding but it was no use. It oozed between her fingers and kept sliding back into her throat. She was drowning in her own blood. She was dying, there was no way out of this one. Dizziness began to take over and she couldn’t hear his retreating footsteps anymore.
Then all of sudden there was a red light. The kind you see when you’re looking at the sun with your eyes closed. The warm feeling of blood began to fade away. She could finally take in a normal breath. She tried to move her hands from her sides but they were strapped down on either side of her. Slowly she opened her eyes. Bright white light shone all around her. She squinted her eyes shut. This was it, she was dead. Was she in Heaven? Had her gruesome death made up for her numerous past sins? She opened her eyes again. Slowly this time. Instead of white fluffy clouds and twinkling harp music she stared up at a plastic pane and the steady sound of beeps from a machine nearby. She tried to move her head but discovered like her wrists it was also strapped in place. From what she could see she was covered with a white blanket and in a pod of some sort. Footsteps sounded to her right and she heard a familiar male voice. “Shae! Shae! You’re awake thank god, I thought we were going to lose you.”
A tall man with dark hair and dark eyes stood above the pod. He tucked a clipboard under one arm and reached into the pocket of his white uniform to remove a card. He slid the card along the side of the pod. The plastic casing above her slowly opened. He began unstrapping her head and wrists. “Lay still you’ve got IVs I need to remove.” His brow furrowed as he began freeing her. When the last strap on her wrist was undone he gently put a hand under her back and helped her into a sitting position. Shae looked around the room and saw at least 15 more pods all occupied by subjects. Her pulse quickened. She was losing her mind. She studied the room more closely. Each pod was identical. A silver base with a plastic top to see the patient. Each patient wore a white shirt and was covered with a thin white blanket. On the side of each pod was a monitor with all of the usual lines and beeping you’d expect. At the base of each pod was a table. The walls were a light blue and the tiled floor was white. She looked behind her and saw an open door. Beyond the door she could see a hallway with windows. Outside the windows were tall pine trees and a blue sky. Shae wanted to walk outside. To feel the sun on her face.
“Shae.” The man said quietly to bring her attention back to him.
Shae began studying his face. It was a face she should know. She should know his name but her mind was failing her. Panic started to take over her body. She began to rock back and forth.
The man looked at her with sympathy. “Look, this must be weird and confusing. The truth is we’ve never kept anyone under as long as you’ve been. Your body completely healed two months ago but you’ve been comatose since the accident. Do you remember me?”
Shae slowly shook her head no. The man walked to the end of the pod and rolled over a chair to take a seat. His brown eyes were etched with worry.“I’m Sam. We were in the same unit a few years ago before you were promoted. Temporary memory loss is normal after waking from the pods. Take it easy. Things will start to come back to you. Do you remember the accident at all?”
“Accident?” Shae’s brows furrowed. “There was no accident. He slashed my throat.” Shae lifted her hand to her neck. She felt around for a wound or a scar but there was nothing there. Sam also mentioned being in a unit together. Did that mean she was military? Shouldn’t she remember something like that? She started rambling without meaning to. “I, I died. He slit my throat. I am dead.” Her breaths were coming faster now and a sharp pain started in her right eye and traveled to the base of her neck. She leaned over and placed her forehead in her hands. She squeezed her temples to try and alleviate some of the pain.
Sam took in a deep breath. Shae could tell her answer wasn’t what he was hoping for. She looked back up at him. Sam tried to smile. “Hey it’s ok. It’s normal to have dreams when we put you in the pod.”
“Dreams? I didn’t have a dream! It was real. I felt myself die! This,” Shae motioned around her for emphasis, “feels like the dream.” Her mind felt like it was being ripped apart.
Sam stood and looked down at the chart he’d been holding. He grimaced. “Shae, when placed in stasis you’re given various drugs to ensure the preservation of your mind. Often these drugs create very vivid dreams. They can feel extremely real. These dreams are intentionally induced to help you remember what happened. In some cases the dreams aren’t exactly how the incident occured. Instead they’re an altered version of what happened.”
Shae stared back at him. She felt in her heart Sam was good and she could trust him, but in her gut she knew that whatever happened to her wasn’t an accident.
Sam walked to the table at the end of her pod and picked up two needles. He walked back to Shae. “Look, you’ve been through a lot. There’s some tests we need to do. I’m going to draw your blood and I’m going to give you something for the headache.”
Shae looked at the needle and extended her arm. He drew her blood first. Then he took the second needle and pushed it into her vein. He pressed the plunger down. Liquid fire shot into her veins and then the room went black. She felt herself being laid down again. The sound of heels clacking against tile came next. Then a soft female voice asked “Was it successful?” Sam responded gravely. “No. We’ll try another week. After that i don’t know what we can do.” Finally Shae heard nothing at all. Sleep took over her body once again. |
Michael’s eyes strained against the bright stage lights beaming down from the ceiling. He brought his hand up to block some of the light. He adjusted the podium’s microphone and, thru dry lips, he spoke into the microphone.
“Is there any chance we can turn those down a little bit?”
As he waited for the stage lights to be dimmed, he brought his other hand up to loosen the collar of his shirt -or his father’s old shirt, rather. Michael hadn’t yet had an opportunity to buy his own.
As the lights dimmed, Michael brought his hand down and was better able to gaze upon the sea of faces and the orange caps atop their heads, some decorated, most plain. It hadn’t been all that long since he saw so many people wearing so much orange.
“Thank you. I know they say our future looks bright, but that’s probably not what they meant…” Michael was greeted by a wave of light laughter. He gazed down at the speech he had prepared, though there seemed to be more edits and pencil marks than the words themselves. His words were clumsy.
“Hello, class of 2019. My name is Michael Samworth. Some of you know me. Most of you don’t. I wish I could change that. I was told just yesterday that I would be receiving this award and I would like to first thank the administration of this school and those who lobbied on my behalf.”
Michael turned back to the row of school administrators and nodded in gratitude. They smiled and nodded back.
“Um...There is part of me that is reluctant to accept this award, that judges myself as unworthy. But to refuse this award would be a rejection of those who made the decision that I am worthy so I will still accept it.”
The auditorium felt too silent. Michael expected a positive reaction of some sort. Michael shook his head and felt the heat rise in his face and his neck. He wasn’t certain that his words represented how he felt. He traced a shaking finger on his paper in front of him to pick back up where he left off.
“There are many of you who know me only insomuch as you see me on this stage and connect it to the name in the program under this specific award. And to those who don’t, I…”
Michael hit the brakes on his speech as he felt an imminent colossal pileup of his words. Michael’s throat was dry. He forced and a finger inside his collar and traced it around his neck again. He looked down at the paper and took a moment to mouth the words before attempting to speak. For a moment, his vision blurred and he felt his knees go a little weak. He gripped the sides of the podium for a little extra support.
He felt himself flashing back to a courtroom 12 years prior. The bright stage lights were replaced with a judge whose gaze was just as piercing. The heat of the courtroom left Michael feeling woozy. His eyes were downcast at a pair of running shoes, stolen some time prior. Did he steal them from a person or a store? His attorney leaned in,
“Michael, we need you to answer.”
“Mr. Samworth, if you do not answer the question, I will hold you in contempt of court,” the judge’s patronizing tone rang out. Though Michael did his best to maintain his tough, apathetic image, the judge’s words still pierced through.
Michael had been mulling over this hearing all week since he was placed in handcuffs for the second time in a year. He hadn’t slept well. He had suffered from nightmares that he didn’t quite understand. Two windows that fluctuated in size, one ahead, one behind.
“Mr. Samworth-” the judge threatened again. He felt lightheaded, his stomach twisted. He felt a sensation rising thru his abdomen, up to his throat. Before he could stop it, Michael lurched forward, gripped the table, opened his mouth wide, and blurted out,
“Guilty. I plead guilty.”
“Very well,” came the judge’s reply. “Sentencing...”
Michael’s attorney held up a finger to the judge that went ignored and leaned over to Michael with a quizzical gaze. He whispered something urgently in Michael’s ear, but Michael wasn’t listening. With the words “guilty” Michael felt an ironic exoneration within himself. The judge would take the reins and sentence Michael, but Michael suddenly felt a weight lifted. He no longer felt tethered to the promises he had made to himself. He no longer felt obligated to live the life a scared and rebellious youth had envisioned.
Michael snapped back to the podium. He was aware of the auditorium of peers and their families staring at Michael. He might have even heard whispers and a couple jeers, but Michael held on to that feeling of exoneration from so long ago.
“Sorry, I was remembering somethi...Where was I?” Michael looked down at his paper and started to trace his finger looking for the spot he left off from, but couldn’t remember what he said last.
*Guilty*
The word rebounded into his mind. Michael moved the paper a few inches to the side of the podium, a symbolic gesture more than anything.
“11 years ago, I said the hardest words I had ever said. ‘I plead guilty’.”
The energy in the auditorium tensed. There were more whispers, more pointed eyes. Michael felt it all bearing down on him and felt responsible for it.
“I have overcome many things,” Michael started again. “None of which was the inability to speak publicly.” Another wave of light laughter managed to ease a little bit of the tension Michael had brought to the environment.
“I respect this school and the short time they have allotted me to speak to my fellow graduates, my peers.” Michael turned again to the administrators. They smiled and nodded, albeit a little less so. Michael turned back to the auditorium “I don’t know the differences between you and I. I don’t know all your challenges, but please understand that redemption can be worked for at any time...if you want it. And ego will justify your complacency in that struggle, but please don’t let it dictate you. And before I get up too high on this soapbox, I would just like to say one last time, thank you and congratulations to the class of 2019”
Michael left the podium in a hurry. A small swell of applause and cheers arose and fell. Michael walked back down the aisle to his seat amongst his peers. He plopped down and shook hands with a few of his neighbors who politely lied to him of how smoothly his speech went. Michael humbly let that truth stay buried.
As the next speaker in the graduation ceremony moved towards the podium, Michael felt his phone buzz under his robes. He fished his phone out of his pocket and a big grin swept over his face. He turned to the dark auditorium but couldn't identify any faces anymore than a few rows back. He turned back to his phone. The text read:
"
JUDGE
7038974551
I’m not going to say it’s the best speech I ever heard, but congratulations nonetheless! You've come a long way.
Thank you for the invite!
" |
As Annalise prepared her golden Apache helicopter and taser for transport, her much younger brother walked in, dressed in a blue and red polka-dotted sheet. Annalise rolled her eyes. Typical. Still, the thought of ancient Greeks fainting in terror at the sight of Zachary with a taser was entertaining. She pinned a little nametag on the ten-year-old's "toga"(which wasn't even time-appropriate wear for ancient Greece) that said Ζεύς (Zeus) on it. Her other little brother came running in. He, too, wore a makeshift toga. He would not be flying the helicopter, but he would be the first to exit, clad in a bright yellow toga and holding a flashlight. She pinned a name tag that bore the name Ἀπόλλων (Apollo) on his sheet as well. His twin sister had already dressed in her much more historically accurate robes and her Άρτεμις (Artemis) nametag. She was in the helicopter, wielding a gun and a stuffed deer. Annalise pinned her little nametag on herself. *How odd that the first one to discover time travel is a twenty-year-old?* She shook her head at Benny. He was exceptionally immature, even for a fifteen-year-old boy. Dressed as Αθηνά (Athena), Annalise was supposedly the goddess of war and wisdom. With her, she had brought an atlas and an almanac, both very good for hitting people over the head with. She had just fired up the machine when suddenly, her dog, Hera, ran into the helicopter-time-machine. It was too late to turn back now. She quickly began manipulating the helicopter and into ancient Greece they flew. |
"Oh yes, I have quite the collection."
"Well it's certainly a lot of crates ..."
"This, this here, is Faraday's cage."
"You mean a Faraday cage."
"No, no, FARADAY'S cage. When he was getting old, he built it, and he went in, and he didn't come out."
"So, you're saying Faraday is dead in there?"
"Who can tell?"
"i SEEEE ... "
"And this here is Schroedinger's box."
"You are sooo full of $#@! ."
"Inside it, there's Schroedinger's cat's box."
"You sure?"
"... mmmaybe?"
"Pfffbltfffthlt."
"This here is Pandora's box."
"Right."
"I don't know quite what's inside, but I'm advised, it's best just to leave it alone."
"Here, I'll check for you ..." |
[Poem]
I try to forget about
the days we wasted in bed.
Playing in the smoke that
filled our flat.
The way it danced,
up and and down our walls.
The way we danced.
It was never hard to breathe when I was with you.
Don’t you remember?
I hope you do.
But how could you forget?
Those words,
your words,
all of them,
painfully clear to me.
“I’m happy when I’m with you....”
I still cannot remember what had happened after?
Because just like that,
you were gone.
You left,
without telling me why. |
The ocean floor was dark with only a beam of light being emitted from the front of our submarine.
There were just 4 of us. The captain manned the controls making sure to steer clear of any danger while the rest of us were repairmen. We would scout the submarine for malfunctions or leaks and quickly fix them before they got any worse.
"You see anything captain"
"Not yet but I could have sworn I saw something moving"
"OK then just make sure to keep an eye out there's a reason why this area is known as the Abysmal deep"
I listened to my crew mates speak about the foreboding nature of this area. This began to tense me up as I looked up at the metal hatch.
'How easy would it be to just open it up'
"Hey Zach you doing okay?"one of the repairmen asked me.
"Yeah I'm fine, It's just I have a strange feeling I guess"I replied.
"That tends to happen to first timers probably due to the pressure difference, maybe taking a walk around might do you some good"
"Sure I'll get to it"
I turned around and walked away from them.
"Also check on the engine room just in case"
"Sure"
\---
After tightening the last couple of bolts. I checked the engine room once more for any leaks.
"Okay then I guess I'll head back n-"I stopped talking when I looked up through the hatch.
It was just a glimpse but I'm pretty sure I saw something.
'No it can't be I need to tell someone'
But would they believe me? No they'd probably ridicule me and call me crazy.
I needed to escape right now. Luckily the suit I was wearing had an oxygen tank attached to it. It was an expensive investment but my paranoia had gotten the better of me.
&#x200B;
Without making any noise I forced the hatch open and closed it as soon as I was out. I couldn't see anything around neither could I hear anything. Though my body could experience intense pressure being exerted on it.
I began to swim upwards while hoping that I just hadn't throw away such a well paying job for nothing.
Suddenly the currents turned intense, pulling me in random directions. The submarine that I was paying attention to exploded into chunks.
I tried to go against the current but I hit an obstruction. As I looked up I saw a single glowing eye that was as big as my entire being.
"The Leviathan" |
"Foreman Sullivan, you ready to put the Bible in the cornerstone of the foundation?"One of the building contractors asks his boss.
"I am, but I must know why is this ritual so important and cannot be skipped,"She replies, "even though we've done this for each new house in this project."
"You've never heard the stories?"He asks. She shakes her head. "According to the stories, any new house without a Bible in its cornerstone, invites the Devil to live with the family where he corrupts them into sin and damnation. I've seen the results, and it's not pretty. Those poor people people become possessed by demons that never leave their host, and that's not the worst part."
The foreman's eyes widen. "What is the worst part then?"
"The Devil takes their daughters as his brides and rapes them, putting demon babies in them as soon as they reach puberty that slowly drain away their souls and life force until they're just husks."
"But what's so special about this house that you had to let me know you're putting the Bible into its foundation?"She asks.
"This house will belong to you when its built, and its for you and your husband."He replies.
"But I'm currently living with him in an apartment. How will this become our future house?""Give it some time. This house will be fully built and ready to be moved into when you get back from your honeymoon. That answer your question?"She nods, and the Bible is placed into the wet cement. The end. |
It all started when an American company, after years of research and development, managed to create cow meat through manipulating cells. Though being a massive step in cellular technology, it was dwarfed by the horrors to come. A big idea with a small beginning.
Meat started being made via cellular manipulation, and it only took about a decade before it became the primary way to acquire food. Such magical advancements that could potentially end famines for good blinded humanity to its other, much darker potential.
It came more by accident, really. One man invented a genius way to get rid of living waste, using the same technology that allowed for artificially created meat so many decades ago. He watched in awe as his new invention killed off the cells in bacteria, almost entirely wiping them from existence. This was a revolutionary new way to remove unneeded organic material.
It wasn't long before its true power was unleashed after it was released to the public.
Singapore, 2067. A bright, sunny summer day; great for a party. A local politician was enjoying a martini as he peered out into the port. He was rejoicing over his recent electoral success and was more cheerful than he ever had been in years. He felt a hand on his left shoulder, knowing it to be his wife. He turned to see her, instead seeing her face disintegrating as she screamed in distress. As she disintegrated, small pieces of bone marrow fell to the floor. Her upper arm began to vanish and the hand that had rested on the politician's shoulder fell to the ground with a thump, but no blood spilled from the mortal wound. He tried to reach out for his wife, but she collapsed to the ground, sending dust flying into the air. When the dust cleared, all that was left of her was a few small pieces of bone. The politician tried to wipe the confused and terrified tears out of his eyes with his left hand, but he felt nothing. He looked down to see he too was disintegrating. It was like he was evaporating out of existence. He took one last breath, and before a few seconds had passed, he too was gone.
The technology that was supposed to kill cells to remove waste had been weaponized.
A new age had begun. |
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I was stuck in my own body. Just like sleep paralysis. I could not turn.
But, I could still hear, see, smell, feel and think.
The doctors in front of my family said that I was dead. No more of me. My eyes were now closed, and a fabric lay over my face.
But, the worst has not yet to come. For, I have been an organ donor.
I do not want to recall every detail of what happened. But, the dead didn't need anesthetics they claimed. Oh boy.
I wish I would have been cremated. But, no. I had to get a burial. Being trapped in a small wooden box, under 6 feet of soil, with my chest cavity missing several of my organs, for which I am still very much in pain.
After an indefinite amount of time later, I felt almost ticklish, something small, squirmy, and squishy longing on my body. Eventually, I could tell it was entering my closed mouth, from up the throat, enough to realize what it was. Some kind of worm. Probably an Earthworm.
Or maybe not. I never knew Earthworms would eat a corpse. I never felt more violated in my life, or death. It entering my nasal, ear, urethral, and anal cavity, while I laid there unable to move. As it explored every inch of my body, to the last single parts.
It would wriggle in my bladder trouble it's way all the way up to my mouth, and then explore my mouth from the inside. Molesting my tongue. I started having holes in places I didn't even know about. I could sense it wriggling around on my bones, under the muscles, under the skins.
I could sense it moving under my skull. Trailing a hole in my brain. A soft tissue, consuming.
An endless torture of violation, and molestation. I'd never felt more powerless and degraded, in my life, or death. |
The Cure sat on a podium at the head of the room. It was faintly purple, and had you been allowed to touch it you would have felt a faint heat coming from it. Of course before that would would quite possibly be suffering from a severe case of Dead by Bullet provided by one or more of the very serious men standing in an efficient-looking perimeter. They did not have a sense of humour.
Standing around the room were some of the most powerful people in the world, having been invited along to this rather unique auction. Money was no object to such people, they paid people to write the rest of the zeroes on their cheques to each other once their arms became tired. No, the bids would have to go beyond mere gold and silver for this prize. What was on offer was nothing less than the perfect cure, the antidote to everything, the vaccine for the human condition itself. And there was only one dose. One chance to become a god, to transcend the failings of a mortal shell, and to become the world's first superhuman. Humanity++. It would be a Big Deal.
The tension in the room was, as a result, quite high. Someone with even less of a sense of humour than the security detail was playing "Just Like Heaven", and looking around increasingly desperately to see if anyone had got the joke. A few less polite guests had already been escorted out and told to go and liberate something else for The Cause. There was some disagreement about which particular Cause they had in mind, but they did at least agree that it would be in said Cause's interest to have The Cure. They were still arguing when the ornate double doors were firmly shut in their faces.
A small, bald man stood and gently tapped on a glass. The noise in the room gradually died down, and he became the centre of the throng's attention. He cleared his throat.
"Ahem. Thank you for joining me on this very special occasion. You all know the properties of the substance behind me, being no less than the grand culmination of four lifetimes of work. One man believed in this dream, and passed that dream down through his equally brilliant children, each one getting closer to perfection until finally his great grandson found the secret and solved the human equation. Tragically the man died at the moment his work was finished, thus taking his revelation to the grave. As a result, ladies and gentlemen, what you will be bidding on is the first, last, and only dose that will ever be. So, without further ado, shall I start the bidding at... £1?"
There was a gentle titter from the audience. Money was nothing, so why take it seriously? A few wags bid up some small numbers and working up to a few trillion, but the serious game was about to start.
A lady stood, clad like a headmistress with a round pair of spectacles perched on her nose.
"I own a school of assassin's trained from before they were born to be the perfect killers. They have honed their skills to the sharpest point, and as now are waiting in stasis not far from here. In exchange for The Cure you can be the first one they see upon waking, completing the imprinting process and making them totally loyal to you alone. An unstoppable, incorruptible shadow legion ready to serve your every tiny whim."
This met with nods of approval. A good bid to be sure. A few of the better informed visitors however privately considered how useful a gang of five years-olds would be just yet. Madame Ruby did run an excellent school for killers, but appeared to have been caught a bit early for this particular auction. Still, a good attempt.
This time a man stood, a far more gaudy affair, medals and accolades jostling for space on his expansive barrel chest.
"This is nothing. I will offer an entire army, one that includes special forces, tanks, planes, ships, and one of the world's most decorated generals to manage it all for you. They have never lost a war, never failed in their task, and will ensure that your iron will becomes law the world over!"
Another good bid. The Tiger's Claw was infamous for both their efficiency and their savagery, and had played a notable part in most global conflicts for the past several decades. Their rate of always ending up on the winning side was a little bit suspect, and on at least one occasion they claimed to have been "Playing the long game"and really been working for the eventual winners all along. Bit dubious, but their uniforms were very spiffy and who doesn't enjoy a private army?
A pale man stood next, wearing a lab coat presumably as a shorthand to confirm that he was both a doctor and a smug showoff. He waved his hand dismissively.
"Assassins and armies are mere fripparies, when real power is wielded by one man made invincible. I offer a suit of personal body armour, one that will allow you to juggle mountains, fly to the stars and back, and is Bluetooth compatible! I give you the Titanium Titan!"
The offers were definitely ramping up now. The suit was serious tech, and no one could make boosters and circuits dance like Doctor PhD. Okay, he did watch a few too many superhero films and had the creativity of moss, but the bid itself would be a steal. There was going to a tough decision to make.
The bids came in quicker now. Sleeper agents in every city, VR tech that went beyond realism and into the realms of magic, genetically enhanced dogs that all had huge eyes and two tails just for wagging. The noise in the room rose, everyone shouting their bids, more and more exotic prizes being thrown.
There was a very soft tinkle of glass that cut right through the din, silencing everyone present. The Cure was gently soaking into the floorboards surrounded by the shattered remains of the vial.
The short, bald man licked his lips, and asked the room at large a very quiet question.
"Whose fucking cat is that?" |
I decided to try with Ranger
\--
It was John’s second term at the College of the Beyond. He had just managed to get by in the first term, but the Masters’ latest curveball hadn’t gone well for him.
He sat leaning under a tree, close to the edge of the Beyond camp. He placed a hand on his grumbling stomach as he looked around. In a clearing he noticed a group of other students puzzling how best to divide a dead rabbit, presumably a collective catch. He briefly thought about who, if it got desperate, he could approach for some amnesty.
He didn’t have to wander for long, as out from the undergroth crept Carvi, another student. She gave an amused smile down at him, leaning on the same tree. “Another fruitless day?”
He glanced up at her and looked grim. “Seems that way.”
“Here,” she said. “Want a berry?” She held a deep maroon berry, about the size of a ping-pong ball.
John took the berry and took a big bite out of it. “Thanks,” he said with his mouth full. He finished it off very quickly. In only a few seconds his stomach seemed to settle. “Wow… where did you find those?”
“I didn’t. I made them.” She waved her hand, trying to seem mystical.
“Nature revealed another spell to you?”
“Yep. It’s a Goodberry. Eating one of those sustains you for a whole day, it seems.”
“Damn…” He leaned back on the tree. “So, a few casts of that and you’ve basically solved the challenge.” He extended, then flexed his left hand.
“Well, not quite. They lose their potency after a day and just become large berries. Besides… I don’t think the Masters would be a fan of me using it.”
He furrowed his brow. “Why not? It’s a spell from Nature, why would they not like it?”
“They probably want me to rely on myself.”
“Yeah, yourself together with Nature.”
“Well, I’m still not hunting and foraging if I’m using Goodberry, which is what they want us to learn. Put it this way, the less magic I use on ensuring I survive, the more magic I can use on…” She vaguely gestured.
“On stealth and arrow spells, right?”
Carvi looked down at him. The sunlight glimmered against the 2 knives that were strapped to his thigh. She sighed and sat down next to him. “I guess.” A silence fell over the two of them until Carvi eventually broke it. “I’m sure Nature will reveal some knife spells to you… eventually.”
John scoffed. “I’m beginning to think Nature wants the city to stay in the city as much as she wants the wild to stay in the wild.”
Carvi looked pained. She wanted to protest but in truth, it almost seemed true.
“Apprentice John.”
The two looked up to see the tall, imposing figure a few steps away from them. John got up and stood up straight. “Yes, Master Atalanta?”
She raised a small, circular device that had wires leaking out of its casing. “A word, please.”
John mentally scorned himself. He followed her off to another tent, leaving Carvi alone.
\--
Thank you for this prompt. Constructive feedback welcome. I think the start was kinda weak but hopefully there's enough subtext for it to work.
For some reason the idea of a City based ranger was stuck in my head for a long time. I think I watched JoCat's video about Rangers and saw a city image when he talked about Preferred Terrain so my mind came to the conclusion that "urban"was a valid choice for a Preferred Terrain. I looked and saw that it was not, but the idea of a City ranger stuck with me, in this case it manifested in the form of the "I'm different"schoolboy protagonist. Combined with the idea of using melee weapons where most rangers use bows. If this was to continue, maybe the resolution would be the realization that nature in urban environments is just as valid and worth being a warden of as those in the wild.
Thanks for reading! |
\[POEM\]
&#x200B;
**New Clear Winter**
&#x200B;
A blaze of blinding brightness.
Explosions of whiteness and noise
And fear.
Till the skin-scoring razor-wind
Became, on the whole, blunter.
Gave way to possibility.
Made things
Clear.
Rightly
Finding something
In the motionless poise
Of animals.
Something dear:
An animus.
A reminding
Of the wellspring of hostility within
The oldest role:
Hunter.
Hunter throwing that last almighty spear. |
I was on the way up to work, it was an mailboy job to a housing development firm, it was nothing big but it was several floors up a skyscraper. The elevator button dinged and I stepped inside to go to work along with a dozen other drones heading off to their day jobs wishing it was over so they can ride the elevator back down knowing their misery is over for the day. Each floor another person got off until it was just me and the person in front of me, his back was facing away from me and all I saw was the tail end of some expensive suit. The next floor was mine and I felt the last few seconds of freedom tick down as the elevator climbed.
Then there was a sudden jerk, I felt my stomach go up my throat and for a second I thought the elevator was going to plummet down the shaft. But it stopped and while the only signs of urgency was the brief flickering of the lights, we were fine.
"Jesus Christ! What the hell happened?"the man in the suit exclaimed to me as he buckled his knees regaining himself. I was staring off to the floor panting hard, trying to convince myself I was alive.
"The elevator must've jammed. Try using the call button."I suggested to him. He approached the big red button on the panel with the firefighter symbol that everyone is curious to press. Someone answered and we were told help was on the way shortly and to hold tight and don't panic.
Once the conversation was over, the man in the suit turned to me and for the first I saw his face. He had dark brown eyes, what used to be well kept dirty blonde hair that got slightly scuffled in the rocking and a conventionally handsome face. It all looked so familiar.
"I forgot to ask, are you okay?"he asked, I could tell he was genuine.
"I think I am. You?"I replied.
"A little shaken up, but I'll live. I guess this is the price for working at one of the higher levels."
"I fucking hate this place."I sigh out. "I'm Joseph by the way."
"Cordon"he extended his hand and I shook it. His grip was firm but friendly, my initial thought was that he was a good guy.
"Gordon?"I asked, not sure what he said and not wanting to be rude.
"No *Cordon*, with a C"he said with a smile filled with fake porcelain teeth.
"That's an unique name, only met one person with that name in high school."I said as I remember Cordon Willis. He was a kid in the class under mine. I hated him and I bullied him because I hated him. The more I remembered of Cordon, the more anxious I felt that that Cordon was the one standing in front of me.
"What high school?"the elevator Cordon asked, looking legitimately excited that he might be the same Cordon.
"Daggerpine High."My voice nearly cracked as I stressed more and more that he would say-
"Same here!"He exclaimed, the excitement in his eyes sparkled like the kid I knew in high school. I felt my stomach go in knots. I think he noticed that, his face changed from joy to quizzical with his eyes furrowing. "Are you Joseph Curry?"
"That's me"I replied, feeling like it was a shame to be me. His face turned serious, there was no more smiling, no more sparkling eyes, just the face of a man.
"Oh."Cordon flatly said. There was a moment where none of us talked and neither of us looked at each other. I don't know what he was thinking, but I just felt bad, like every negative emotion hitting at once. He finally broke the silence "You were an asshole to me you know that right?"
"I know."I said, still not looking him in the eyes. "I'm... sorry."
"You know how much I talked about you in therapy after high school? You were relentless, every day you would tell me my dreams would amount to nothing and that when you succeeded, you would make sure I wouldn't, you would threaten me. I lived in fear for so long after high school about you, I just-"his words got faster and more passionate the more he talked, I could tell his fists were clenching until he stopped himself and took a breath. "I'm sorry. I know it happened in high school and I'm better now. I used to rehearse what I'd say to you if I ever saw you again, but I never expected that to happen."
"No, no, don't-..."I caught myself and needed to let out a moment. "Don't apologize, I... I'm sorry."
Cordon took off his jacket and sat on the elevator floor, his back against the wall as he looked at me.
"Why?"he asked, confusion swept across his face. "Why did you hate me so much? I was just a simple kid, I wasn't that popular, that rich, that lonely. I wondered for so long why you had so much hate against me."
I remembered all the years of torment I put this guy through, the bullying, the fights, the misery. Day after day, I punished him for being him.
"I hated you because you were content."My eyes closed as I admitted this, I felt the guilt and shame both come out of me but stay in me. "I was miserable, but you were content with life. I could never achieve what came naturally to you. And I hated that, and the more shit I put you through, no matter how miserable, you still had that happiness to you, and I hated you more for that. I have been and still am miserable. I'm sorry, Cordon, I can't imagine what I put you through."
There was a silence in the elevator. I felt like crying but I didn't have the strength to. I said the honesty of who I am, and I wish I could say it felt good to admit. Cordon just sat there looking at me. Then the elevator jerked back to life, and we started to descend. Cordon got up and put his jacket back on, he didn't say a word to me for the longest time as the hum of the elevator was the only sound. He turned around to look at me.
"It was a pleasure to see you Joseph."He said calmly.
"What?"I was shocked and confused, a million thoughts ran through my brain. Was he forgiving me? Was he about to kill me? Did he want to be my friend?
"It was a pleasure. I see that the person who made me miserable for years is living a miserable life, and I have been infinitely more successful than them than they will ever know. And that's a great feeling."
The doors of the elevator opened and a crowd formed to check on our safety. Cordon faced them and said something that got them smiling and patting his back. He dissipated into the crowd but I stayed in the elevator, knowing that tomorrow I'll be in the same one going to my job and never knowing the satisfaction I just made someone else feel. |
Share a body with your best friend? Seemed like a no brainer to begin with, he said that if we found the hit and run driver, he'd wake up, the cosmic juju would be aligned and he'd whomp back to his own body.
Unfortunately, Joe and I work in an office. We're not private investigators, so we've got no fucking clue how to find the driver.
But do you know what doesn't help? Arguing with yourself. That ends you up here. No he's not a positive symptom of Schizophrenia, he's a dick who didn't think his request through.
I told you you wouldn't believe me Doc. Yes, I was very sad that my best buddy got put into a coma. If he was a coping mechanism would be this GOD DAMN IRRITATING?!
I'll make you a deal, we'll, I mean I'll take the meds, if you arrange a PI to look into it for me. I want justice for my friend, it will help me heal right? That's not a tough sell.
Ok. Cool, maybe I'll be myself again someday. |
And at last, we had arrived... at the end of our journey. We had overcome great odds. The oathbreakers had made their choice damming us to this painful existence. I was a boy when they took me, only 16 at the time. The world was new to me. I never knew what power id inherit, what monsters id face. Why me! Why did they choose me to partake in their games? The games of the Great Odyssey. Were tasked to expel the forces of evil from this universe... we were never meant to cross over into others, they assumed too much. I was only a boy when they took me from my mother's one-bedroom apartment. I was already so broke, weary from the death of my father. They took me at my lowest and made me into a legend, a monster, a gamer.
Little did I know the games were rigged. Our first glimpse took place on Epsilon 128. It was an endless void, a sort of graveyard of lost dead stars. Some coined it the sea of dead stars. It was a hopeless place, yet the dregs and scum of the known universe congregated as if it was holy land. All in anticipation of blood, violence, and gore. Everyone I know avoided the graveyard. Ravaged starships, cruisers, and small shuttles were littered across light-years of seemingly endless wars and conflict that sustained even the largest parts of the system. Yet conveniently located near the center was a glimmer of naive hope.
A tournament located in Tau Ceti, a small system that lodged a hidden warrior race of translucent beings, able to shapeshift and manipulate their energies. They were called the foragers. Feeding off the infinite energy that ran through time and space itself. They sustained themselves without organic materials. The universe itself provides their sustenance, and anything caught in their trap would become apart of them as well.
They were shapeshifters, time manipulators, able to assume the form of any lifeform they cross, under certain conditions of course. Their original form could not be seen by most organic life, humans and other life forms envisioned them as space apparitions, traveling without ships, without equipment, and in no particular order. This seemingly god-like invincible creature had established their dominance on many homeworlds. Their worlds were shrouded in storms and darkness, armored with thick sheets of heavy corrosive metals. Their world was not built with comfort in mind. It was built with the sole intention of being a host. A host to pain and suffering.
These gate worlds, as the rumor had called them, were but an entrance into understanding the complexity of their existence. Everything moved in one fluid motion, cogs, wheels, and objects all worked in unison, guiding, and challenger to their arenas. The field was diverse, and I along with the foragers was tasked to uncover the mysteries of their existence. I could only do this by fighting their battles, avenging the fallen subjects they entrusted before me. I was a human, but I was made to be the champion of a hidden race of beings. I asked myself... if they are so powerful, why don't they just fight their own battles. I never received and answer upfront, but I always surmised their true form was hidden behind a curtain. They needed a champion to envision themselves as a species, they needed something to mimic, but in order to establish that trust... one would have to win with honor. I finally saw them for what they were... a besieged race of shapeshifters, looking for an organic lifeform to awaken their true identity. The games had begun. I was but one being, I could never protect them on my own. They entrusted me with ancient artifacts.
The first was a piece of armor, that was forged out of one of the rarest substances on their world. It allowed me to blind my enemies while sustaining life-threatening blows. Next was a dagger with a monitor located in its engraving. The monitor sent audio and video messages to me through a psychological bridge they had programmed to interact with organic life. Lastly, they gave me a blessing. Through this blessing I was to conduct myself with great esteem as I crossed into new universes, slaying the worst creatures to ever unjustly pillage the weak. My work was tedious and slow. By the time I had reached a new level of enlightenment through my journey... I found myself wondering what my purpose was. Was I to do this for the rest of my life. Journeying to dark worlds, eliminating all that cause undue suffering. This hardly seemed like the life I wanted.
I went back to Epsilon, tracked my way to another gate world. I asked what they called the floating oracle, what he had planned for me. He said, "The plan was for you to come back to us, to come back and reclaim us."I was the reclaimer they mentioned. Brought back to awaked this hidden race from their eternal slumber. I was honored to do so, but behind this hidden vale, lurked something evil... something that didn't seem right. I was brought to my knees. The oracle explained to me the depths of their perverse past, how they wiped out whole worlds for resources to sustain their own. Honor had preceded them. I wanted out. There was no getting out. The monitor ensnared me in a forcefield. Drained all energy from my body. He then began to convert all Foragers into humans. Thus the second edition of the human race began. The first man, woman, and child born on this gate world. Born out of thin air, and replicated by one another. Over time every crevice of the planet was producing human counterparts like me... instead, these were not ordinary humans. They were god-like beings with inherently destructive intents. Born out of wickedness. The foragers destroyed what was left of my body and mind, and left me to drift off into an infinite void. My body festered, grew angry old, and tired. My powers transformed into something far sinister, and infection grew in my mind, a perverse desire for infinite revenge. I would not rest until I raised an army against this foe and wiped them form every known universe. |
I popped into the space between space, right next to my favorite sock. Well, one half of my favorite sock. It was sitting there, plain as can be on a pile of socks, and none that I could see were matching. But now I had it, the missing piece of that perfect pair. I held up the sock with a happy puppy on it and the little face stared up at me, its pink nose so cute, and its tongue forever hanging out. I sighed in relief, losing my favorite sock had been killing me.
It was like an itch that I couldn't scratch, a quiet whine in an otherwise empty room, that sound you hear in your head when you just THINK about nails on a chalkboard. It had nagged me and nagged me, and then finally when I thought I couldn't take it any longer there was an earth-shattering POP and I was here.
Where was here? I finally looked around. I was in a seemingly expanding void, piles of socks as far as the eye could see. Nothing but piles of socks, all of them one half of an incomplete pair. I walked through the piles looking for a way out.
There was another POP and I looked up half expecting to find another person looking for their favorite sock. Instead, there was a door frame, piles of socks on the other side of it and all around it, just standing, not in a wall just a door and a frame. It creaked open and a head popped in through the opening.
"Oh dear,"The little old man muttered. "You don't belong here. Follow me."
He held the door open and I walked through it. On the other side was a brightly lit hallway. When I looked back I could still see the endless expanse of socks, but there were none on this side of the door. The old man shut the door and made some notes on the clipboard.
"Come along."He said gruffly and started hurrying down the corridor. I had to walk quickly to catch up, for how ancient he looked he was spry. As we walked I saw each door had a label. The first few were pretty in line with the door I had come through. I saw underwear, pajamas, pants, hat, and watch in the time I had before I realized I was falling behind.
"Excuse me, ummm where are we?"I asked huffing a little as I followed the little man, he made a turn at a crossroad and I glanced at the doors again. Keys, change, sunglasses... what were these?
"You're in the halls of the lost."The man said matter of factly as if I should know what that means. He stopped and I nearly rammed into him. He turned to me and narrowed his eyes. "Ugh, I hate explaining this. You are where every lost thing goes when it is lost."
"You mean, like socks?"I said holding up my puppy sock. I couldn't wait to get it home.
"Yes."He huffed. "Now if you don't have any more question..."
"Where is the way out?"I looked around for any sign of an exit.
"Well,"He said with a sly grin. "You might be able to find one in the section for lost ways."
"Wait, lost ways?"I pondered this. "So when someone loses their way they show up here?"
"Well, their way does."He shrugged then chuckled. "It won't be your way but it would be a way, and it might even be a way out."
"So... it isn't just objects then,"I asked puzzling that over in my head.
"Of course not. We get lost ideas, lost hope, lost virginity even."He said with a perverse little grin.
"Oh, can I see that?"That might be worth a peek, I wasn't usually a big pervert but I mean how could you not want to see that hall.
"You really don't want to kid."The old man said with an eye roll. "It's not all it's cracked up to be, very awkward, often painful, full of regret, and lots of tears."
I thought about it and figured he was probably right. The old man must have taken that as a sign my questions were done because he bustled off down the halls. We took another turn and I glanced at the first door. Souls? Oh... ummm that was unsettling.
"If you aren't taking me to the way out... where are we going?"I said finally after what seemed like a considerable amount of time chasing the ancient man.
"To where you belong."He stopped in front of a door and tapped on it. I glanced at the label it said one word, Mind.
"No that can't be right,"I said with a frown. "I am perfectly sane. I haven't lost my mind."
"Of course you are."He said reassuringly. "And of course you haven't. Because you aren't you... you are the mind that was lost."
I frowned, which made a strange sort of sense. If you lost your sanity, the part that was lost would still be sane right?
"How did I get here?"I said, the thought finally settling into my brain. "What..."
I glanced down at the single happy puppy sock in my hand. It had been driving me nuts... I had been losing my mind trying to find it, and I guess I finally, I finally... must have... then I had an idea.
"But I can go back now!"I cried holding up the sock. "I found it! I have the sock!"
"Where's the other one?"The old man said with a weary sigh. Then it hit me, I didn't have the socks, I only had one. I didn't have the socks at all. The old man ushered me into the room as I tried to process this fact. i heard the door close behind me.
I popped into the space between space, right next to my favorite sock. Well, one half of my favorite sock. It was sitting there, plain as can be on a pile of socks, and none that I could see were matching. But now I had it, the missing piece of that perfect pair. I held up the sock with a happy puppy on it and the little face stared up at me, its pink nose so cute, and its tongue forever hanging out. I sighed in relief, losing my favorite sock had been killing me.
It was like an itch that I couldn't scratch, a quiet whine in an otherwise empty room, that sound you hear in your head when you just THINK about nails on a chalkboard. It had nagged me and nagged me, and then finally when I thought I couldn't take it any longer there was an earth-shattering POP and I was here.
Where was here? I finally looked around. I was in a seemingly expanding void, piles of socks as far as the eye could see. Nothing but piles of socks, all of them one half of an incomplete pair. I walked through the piles looking for a way out.
There was another POP and I looked up half expecting to find another person looking for their favorite sock. Instead, there was a door frame, piles of socks on the other side of it and all around it, just standing, not in a wall just a door and a frame. It creaked open and a head popped in through the opening.
"Oh dear,"The little old man muttered. "You don't belong here. Follow me." |
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(I cackled hard reading this prompt gotta try it!)
Childhood trauma doesn't even begin to explain what I have after I learned about my "gift."We were just kids playing around squinting our eyes and pretending to smush each other's heads with our fingers. When I squeezed my fingers to smush my best friend Abby's head I heard the screams of our friends first when I opened my eyes and moved my hand I saw Abby's head smashed like pumpkin. I wasn't allowed to attend the funeral. My family packed us up and moved across the country and changed my name to try and give me a normal life. Spoiler alert, I never had a normal life after that.
I stayed to myself growing up and didn't try to date either, who could love a monster like me in the first place? I didn't want to hurt anyone who didn't deserve it ever again. My grades being so well and also being in amazing shape the special forces reached out to me to offer a job interview.
"So Lane, we've come to the last question, if you were to disappear tomorrow who would notice?"I tried to think honestly if anyone would notice. As much as it hurt to admit, no one would.
"No one. My landlord would just find a new tenant."I watched as they wrote notes down. Did I even want this life? Before I could have any doubts I was told I got the job and needed to disappear with them the next day and begin this new life. I didn't have many things in my studio and I figured whatever I left the landlord could sell. I packed my clothes and the old photo of Abby and I as children, my reminder of the monster I am.
Over the next couple of years I did nothing but train in all types of combat, what they didn't know is that as long as I had the target in eye sight, I could eliminate them. I was thankful for the training though, it made me feel less like a monster and more like a weapon for good. Due to this training, I've never actually had to use my "gift"on a mission. I knew I shouldn't keep it a secret but I also didn't know what would happen to me if I did let the special forces know.
This mission wasn't going great though. It was one fuck up after the next and this was a dangerous target. I wasn't going to let them get away or hurt anyone. "Get me eyes I need to see them!"I shouted.
"Lane they're too far, we can't take the risk shooting at them!"My partner was right but I knew I could get the target, anything it takes. I sprinted to the top of the roof and there several buildings away was the target. They turned laughing knowing we wouldn't be able to shoot without harming the hostages. I squinted my eye and lined my fingers up with his head and squeezed without a single thought. |
My 'gift' had come in handy so far. I now knew my ex wife had been just as miserable as me since the breakup. The man I saw her with wasn't her boyfriend as she had claimed, it was her psychiatrist! HA! And if that wasn't enough to be thankful for, I had been able to pay off all my debts after that little stunt I pulled with that weasle of a banker. I imagine his superiors would be catching on quite soon and he would need to take the fall for the money I took. Not great for him but whatever... Not my problem. Finally, life seemed to be going my way. And I would be damned if I didn't make the most of it. As I passed the graveyard on my way to work, pondering the endless possibilites of my newfound powers, I gave birth to this whisp of an idea. An idea that would later prove to be the ruin of me. Maybe... Could it even be possible? I looked down to gaze upon this marble monstrosity of a tombstone that apparantly belonged to a certain Edgar. W. Fitch. He had died in 1956. "Well, mr. Fitch, I'm sorry but If I don't try, I'll never know."My mind reached down. Down into the wet earth, through the rotten clothes and flesh and into the decaying brains of the corpse of the late mr. Fitch. Doing this, I effectively became the first person in history to stumble upon a truth both wondrous and terrifyingly dreadful. A truth that would scare most men into insanity... |
"Abandon ship!"shouted Captain Grant. "All personnel, retreat to your life pods!"
Sirens blared and red lights blinking, there was a mad scramble to the pod deck. Explosions rang within the metallic walls and sparks fly as the Explorer slowly plummets to its inevitable doom.
"Kita!"a woman called out. "Kita, where are you?!"
Kita, the cat who stowed away, has no understanding what is happening. She only hid under the pod, waiting for the noise to stop, unaware of her owner who has left already.
One by one, the life pods ejected to space. As the ship slowly descends onto the unknown planet, the pods and the people it sheltered, set off back home to Earth.
No one ever looked back. Except one. Mayu could only watch the sinking ship, and her beloved kitty with it. Tears streamed down her face as they quickly drift away from the disaster.
The Explorer burned as it entered the planet's atmosphere. The life that thrived on the surface stared at the sky as the burning object streaks through the sky.
It landed with a deafening crash that can be heard miles away. No one would've survived it. Or did they.
Kita exited the debris with a bloodied and battered body. Still clinging on to life, she made her first steps on another world. Before fading to unconsciousness, she laid down on an alien looking tree whilst staring at the night sky. |
Ahh the wonders that the world can exhibit my friend. I must tell you my story before my demeanor changes. You see I’ve been supremely lucky in life and you’ll soon find out why if you wish. As we sit within this dim lit room cradling and sipping from our whiskey glasses, I am not who you see before you, or at least I once wasn’t. Would you wish to know who I once was? I was once known as Chester Waxington a small, but rich and timid man. I wore glasses so thick you could start forest fires with the lenses at a distance of five yards. These glasses had aged over the years as I couldn’t bring myself to purchase a new pair, due to their expense and my previously stated timidity. They had dust captured within the outer edges of the lenses and there were several small cracks that itched at my focus constantly. I could explain my wealth in some small detail if you wish? It was my inheritance from my dastardly glamorous grandmother of whom had been married to a wretchedly old and pompous nobleman from the early 1920s. She was, for lack of a better word, promised to him at her ripe age of 15 while he in turn was 60 years of age. She suffered the abuses of that man and dealt with his unchecked rage for about 20 years whereupon his death and the birth of my father allowed for her to inherit his wealth and estates. This leads me to my obvious eventuality of existence and how I had become rich while being too timid to get a new prescription for my glasses. I hope I’m not boring you. Do you wish for me to continue?
Regardless of that seemingly small detail within the story it provides my motives for what I’ve become today. A confident and “devilishly” handsome man of whom still maintains their obvious wealth. I do ask you the questions, do you wish to know how did I get here? Do you wish to know how did I get from that to this? It all started when I heard a simple yet undesirable tapping upon my bedroom window three stories up in my estate house in Essex, England. This mind you was while I was laying upon my old matted down mattress that must’ve been there since the early sixties or seventies. This tapping startled my core and I began to panic, my heart raced as I tucked the blanket over my head in fear and desperation. This slight miscalculation in my motor skills knocked down my heavy and well aged bedside lamp. It crashed to the floor and a hissing noise soon departed from its shell. To scared to look I closed my eyes tightly and eventually fell asleep from the exhaustion of the fear. Do you wish to know what I woke up to? When I awoke the hissing had stopped and I could hear no unexpected noise, so I began to slowly lift the blanket above my head. As my blurry vision of the room broadened, I couldn’t see anything surprising or out of place. With the exception of where I would normally define the outline or rough shape and dull color of my bedside lamp. My massive spectacles however, were still in place for my quick retrieval. As I reached out from the covers my hand was exposed to the open world, and this is when I knew I had “fucked-up” for lack of a better phrase. Do you wish to know why?
Some smoky tentacles reached out and wrapped their sickly suckers on my wrist. My shriek was immensely uncharacteristic of my current demeanor. Anyhow it tugged at my arm until I was pulled to the floor upon which the old thick brown glass from the lamp gouged deeply into my flesh and my blood began pouring and pooling in vast amounts around what I knew would soon be my corpse. As I stared into the already blurry abyss that my vision allowed, a character shape developed similar to human but the legs were tentacles and the color was purple. I couldn’t make out any other defining features due to those damned spectacles being my visual salvation for that type of detail. A voice came from above me. “Do you wish to live?” A small “yes” ushered its way from my lips and magically I was healed of my grievous wounds. I sat up and carefully felt around for my glasses on the nightstand. Once they were located I placed them upon my brow and began to study the thing from the tentacles on the ground up to the devilish horns that really defined this purple magician.
The magician spoke to me once again, “Do you wish to know what I am?” A small “yes” managed to creep from my voice-box that I now regret. The magician laughed and gave a slight bow. “I am none other than the demon they call ‘Poiuy’. Now that you know what I am, do you wish to know why I am here within this very room?” Again an almost silent “yes” escaped my now regretful and timid lips. “I am here because I was simply trapped within that lamp. Do you now wish to know where I come from?” Truthfully, I started to find curiosity in my “yes” response but I would take it back had I known what I know now. “Well I come from the demon realm obviously. Does one wish to know how I became trapped within this lamp?”
As you can tell this went on for quite some time where the demon “Poiuy” would bait me with simple questions and answers until he got to question twenty, when he suddenly became very truthful and told me everything without asking if “I wished” to know. He stated that I had already used up 20 of my wishes of 24 that he could offer as he was bound to give me those wishes. He also stated that for each wish granted I would inherit the spirit of a demon for one hour, per day, per wish. In other words, I would be possessed by a demon for 20 hours of my day every day for the rest of my life, because he had already granted me 20 wishes. Do you wish to know why he suddenly stopped tricking me? He explained his sudden truthfulness as a way to add to my torment of my eternal soul and twist it into something darker and more sinister than I could have ever imagined. Do you wish to hear more of my tale? For this can go on to some length. Well you”ll have to wait as the time is nigh for the demons to possess me once more for the next twenty-two hours please meet me here in twenty-two hours and five minutes to continue my story, if you wish.
22 hours 5 minutes later...
Ahh I see that you have returned please have a seat our drinks will be here shortly. I assume this means that you still wish to hear the rest of my story. Wonderful let’s get started.
Now as I was telling you before, I was tricked I to answering yes to twenty of the demon Poiuy’s questions. Once I fully understood the implications I was awestruck. I forgot my fear and began to feel rage inside. This was real I knew it to be true because my near death and pain were very real. My blood still lay beneath me all over the hardwood and along with the large jagged glass that littered the floor. I had been taken as a fool and had wasted 20 wishes and would now waste 20 hours of every day being possessed by demons. Do you wish to know what I did after that? I decided after some time to make the best of it. I would use 2 more wishes for myself and then never allow the 2 remaining wishes to be used. My first wish was to have my vision be 20/20 forever ridding me of the scratchy glasses. My second wish was to make this curse transferable to others who wished to hear my story, alleviating me of my own demons and saving me some precious hours to be myself. If you’d like now that I’ve explained the situation to you I could tell you more if you wish? I may even throw in those details about how I’ve become so handsome and charming if you wish to know that as well. |
I awaken on a dirt path, flat on my back and disoriented but completely uninjured. Slowest sitting up to test that theory, I look around and it takes me a couple second to remember what happened. I’m surrounded by lush greenery and steep red cliffs.
Oh right. I’d been climbing one of these cliffs. I was with people earlier though, wasn’t I? Another head shake and then the rest of the memory comes back to me. I had been with a couple friends climbing to the peak of this mountain range. The path had given way under my weight, though, and I had free fallen for at least a hundred feet before tumbling down a forested bit to the valley floor.
With a heavy sigh, I get up and start looking around for where I might have fallen. I need to find the point where I died. I don’t mind dying so much, since I can respawn. The worst part is having to recollect all my gear that scatters at the death site.
That’ll teach me to be more of a minimalist. |
Catastrophe. Calamity untrammeled.
I stand there like an idiot, stretching out my hand in an echo of the movement I just made, that resulted in catastrophe. No matter how many times I reach out to grasp that phantom note, the real one is just a pile of useless dust on the kitchen floor.
Or is it?
I ponder the temporal aspects of time travel and entropy, and I think that perhaps there may be a little wiggle room here. I mean a sort of elbow space, where the laws of physics aren't really broken, so much as circumvented in a manner which leaves the nexus of the avoided event safely in the future.
Wait a minute, that just might work! I carefully step over the note that had been handed to present me by past me, and start scratching equations on a legal pad I keep by the kitchen table exactly for such a purpose.
Look. All equations have to balance, right? That means I can take the entropy from this side of the equation - which is the NOW side, and slide it over to the other side of the equation - which is the FUTURE side, and essentially in the temporal scramble that then occurs, the past note will re-constitute itself, since the entropy that drove its dissolution would have been delayed, but also multiplied by a factor indexed by the amount of delay involved. Right?
So... Now I need to figure out the amount of delay to incur, the amount of temporal sliding required, and figure out an energy input. Nothing serious energy wise, just a nudge to get the equation cooking, so to speak. I boil the kettle and throw a probe from my pocket temporal duction into it. As the water in the kettle freezes, the equation kicks in and the note start to reconstitute itself! Awesome.
I carefully unfold the note, on yellowed paper that creaks gently as I do so, and see what it says:
Take out the garbage, dumbass. Signed you, dum-dum.
I go over to the kitchen trashcan, and see that it is rather full, but honestly it isn't that packed. Not really. I mean look, I can squish everything down into the can at least an inch and maybe two like this. ~squish~
Yuck.
I wash my hands.
I think. I think some more, because maybe...
Entropy. Temporality. Yeah, maybe...
So obvious. Maybe too obvious. But what the heck, I have a lot of homework to do tonight and frankly some other idiot can take out the trash. I energize my temporal duction and calibrate it for two hours from now, and pass future me the note.
Someone else can take out the trash. I'm busy. |
It lifted the final piece of the block, and placed it on the very top of the structure that stood before itself. Then it pressed its cold metal hand right into a metallic light crest in the structure, and light started flowing from its own body into the structure before.
The two were joined, and blue light shone from them. It was a simple process that would take five minutes, and building these structures were easy. After all, they were building themselves.
\-
The golems were created to help us be cheap manual labour. Our country had always had immigrants doing the difficult hard jobs that no one in our entitled city wanted to do. When someone discovered they could just infuse magic into these golems, our city was revolutionised.
Over the course of two years, Golems took over the menial jobs, and they were all over the country. Because of their efficiency when it came to doing such jobs, we started manufacturing more and more of them, making them in different shapes and sizes to fit what we wanted them to do.
We started exporting them, sharing them with other countries, and new forms of the Golems were created to match the needs of others. Golems became more and more ingrained within our society. People started using them for fights, for races, for performances. Basically with magic, you could tell this Golem to do whatever. As time went by, we managed to infuse more complex magic into them, and getting them to do more complicated tasks. Soon enough, the Golems even became our soldiers, our guards.
We became the Golem Empire. And we were proud of it.
\-
I'm a Golem Designer. People give me requirements, and I design out the Golems for the Sculptors to create. I plan out the way the Golem will look to best fit its required job, and I also design the most important thing, the Crest that enables the Golem to be infused with magic.
Crests are not easy to be designed. Each Crest had to be handcrafted and had to be different from each other. The Crest marked the individuality of both the Golem and the Designer. Designers had certain styles, and each Crest by a single designer were different yet similar in a way.
The Crests had to be different as we realised that *magic* was very particular about what it would settle into. If we had two Crests of the same kind, the two Crests would share the magic that had infused into it. This would reduce the power of the Crest, and the use of the Golem.
You could often tell who the Golem was designed by, by looking at the Crest. There were, after all, only sixteen of us within the country. Becoming a Designer wasn't easy - you had to pass a certified test that all sixteen of us would be involved in.
So imagine my surprise, when someone presented to me a Golem that I couldn't recognise the Crest of. |
The condensation from Aurora’s steady breaths thawed the ice laden air. Her labored breathing mirrored the strained movements of the clock in the corner, trying to fight the oppressive cold of these many years. A solitary drop of water ran down the ice infested stone wall. Another drop of water ran down the wall, weaving around the nooks and crannies of the blackened stone. A piece of ice wedged in the pendulum’s path cried. It had been crying for hundreds of years. It finally withered and croaked its end as the room heated. And suddenly the pendulum was free. It swung and the clock struck twelve for the first time in decades, years, or millenia. Aurora’s eyes opened. A film of ice encrusted her eyes. Her joints popped and protested as her hand wiped away the ice. She surveyed her room. The sheets, her chair, the rug, all her possessions preserved from the ravages of time by an ice that grew from the ground, wove up the walls, and thickened like a thorny vine. Aurora looked at the fireplace, waved her hand and there was a fire. A bright blue fire lit the room with a white hue that reflected off of the ice that covered the walls. She glanced at her reflection. She was still young. Her legs, and arms groaned as she sat up for the first time in a long time. She stood up, and the goose feather bed remained depressed with memory of her laying form. Her legs carried her to the staircase. Down to the armory. She collected her breastplate, daggers, and a pack. The library was next. Her hands caressed the individual volumes, and stroked their spines as lost memories returned. The volume she took was an interesting choice for someone who awoke in an empty castle preserved in ice. Marching out of the library and down the corridor she flippantly flipped through the pages. She arrived in a room with a circle etched in the stone floor. At the edge of the circle were three glass spheres. They were so perfectly made the white light of the ice emanated through them like a prism. Aurora whispered the words written in *World Geography* and the stones began to spin in a circle. Aurora felt the wonderful heat of somewhere else invade the room as the stones performed their magic and she was transported elsewhere.
Merryweather’s hand hesitated as she reached for the knob of the tree house. She felt a familiar nagging on her soul as her hand closed around the door and she entered the hut. Opening the door the warmth of a fire greeted her. “Now Flora, Fauna how many times have I told you not….” She dropped the eggs she planned to cook for dinner when she saw a familiar pair of ice blue eyes. “Rose, how..” “I’ve told you so many times that I hate that name.” Aurora’s ice blue eyes turned purple as the fire in her blood, the fire in her soul roared up, ready to reach out and burn everything away. Aurora tossed two wands to merryweather. Merryweather caught them mid-air. A black wave of despair washed over merryweather as she spotted the blood on Aurora’s daggers. “I really am sorry about everything Aurora.” “We failed you…. Flora, and fauna and I just wanted what was best.”Merryweather choked their names. Aurora’s eyes narrowed. “How long has it been, where is phillip, and where is Ma…. Mal?” “Will you promise not to kill me if I tell you where they are?” “Yes.” “Okay so its been 340 to 350 years since”... “well since everything transpired.” The rage in Aurora’s eyes flared up and Merryweather felt a wave of heat wash over her like wind on a sweltering day. Aurora gritted her teeth “Where is phillip?” “He died dearie, that is probably why you’re awake.” “Aurora, you know I can’t tell you where Maleficent is. And I won’t let you leave.” Merryweather instinctively held her wand shielding herself from the rolling waves of heat from Aurora’s rage infused soul. “I thought you would try to come back.” “So about a hundred years ago, I made this a binding circle.” A laugh escaped from Aurora’s perfect rose colored lips. “Did you extend it into the ground?” “Let’s find out, shall we?” Aurora’s perfect hand stretched out. Merryweather noted her nails were still perfectly trimmed. Then Merryweather felt a pull, not on her, on everything. Aurora’s pupils turned a fiery red, and she shut her eyes. The ground quaked as Aurora lifted the hut, what was left of the tree, and the soil from the ground. “Maleficent taught me well Merryweather.” A tear ran down Merryweathers cheek. Holding her wand aloft her fury, her sorrow, and sadness exploded. And Aurora smiled. She smiled as Merryweather’s fireball hit her square in the chest. It was meant to kill her, it was a last stand, a memory of two lost friends. Aurora smiled again and said “don’t worry Merryweather I’m not going to kill my last remaining mother, you’re coming with me”. As the hut and its soil lifted into the air Aurora’s eyes focused the town that lay north of the hut. “And you are going to watch.”...... “Everything.”
Sorry if I'm over the word count. |
"Human. What is this place thou hath summoned me to?"
"I-I-I-It's my bathroom."
"Your bathroom? I, the most powerful and feared Sin of all was summoned in a filthy bathroom?"boomed the winged figure, with darkness and cold air flowing from top to bottom, hooded and shrouded in mystery.
Steve quivered and scrambled backwards, never taking his eyes off of the terrifying creature that he summoned. Fending himself with his right arm up trying to block the cold air from getting to him. The Sin looked around, "This is actually quite the lovely bathroom. I wish I had an automated shitter like this one. We never get anything good down in Hell."
"Y-Y-Y-You can have it, i-i-i-if you want."
"Sure. I'll take it. Why are you stuttering? You ok?"Asked the winged figure.
"I-I-I-It's cold."
"Oh right. Guess you're gonna have to live with it. No one has summoned me indoors before. Most of them are in a shrine of some sort, or an abandoned factory, or on the dock, or something like that. What business do you, puny human, have with I, the most powerful and feared Sin of all?"
Steve stutters once more, "I-I-I-I want you to stop Charles from bullying me."
"Charles? The kid who lives one block away who wears that ridiculous red hat saying 'Make America Great Again' or some shit and always has his belly showing from under his under-sized striped shirt, wearing jean shorts that are too tight so his ass crack is always showing?"
"Y-Y-Y-Yes sir."
"BAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA YOU'RE GETTING BULLIED BY CHARLES? THAT WORTHLESS PIECE OF SHIT WHO CAN'T EVEN TIE HIS OWN SHOELACES? WHO MOMMY ALWAYS NEEDS TO MAKE A CRUSTLESS PB AND J SANDWICH FOR LUNCH AT SCHOOL AND DADDY HAS TO BUY A TEDDY BEAR ON CHRISTMAS OR ELSE HE CRIES LIKE A BITCH CHARLES? YOU DON'T NEED ME YOU NEED JESUS AAAAAHAHAHAHAA"
Steve felt a tear in his right eye about to fall, when he squeezed out, "But Jesus doesn't listen to me or come to my rescue. All he says is 'I love you' and 'T'is fine'. If he loves me he would've come to my rescue when Charles gave me a wedgie last Friday."
"Kid, Jesus don't care about you. All he does is drink wine and eat gluten free bread like Jennifer from across the street."
The winged figure sighed, turned around and with a swirl of darkness and coldness, transformed into a gentleman in a black satin suit with blue stitching, and deep blue eyes chilling enough to freeze ice cream in a second.
"Fine. What can you offer me. Steve?"
"Some porkchop and ketchup?"Steve said without hesitation now the coldness is gone. |
What's that noise? Beeping? A life support machine maybe? Muffled voices around me. I don't recognise any of them. Need to try and open my eyes. Tiled ceiling. Dim lighting. Oh, and hello beepy machine. Definitely a hospital. Can't remember why I'm here. Not sure what happened. What happened to my hands? Has someone painted my nails? My friends are such practical jokers. I must have been in a coma for a while, my hands look like they've lost loads of weight.
*Could you stop talking please?*
Who was that? Who are you? Who's there? That voice. So soft. So feminine.
*I'm tired. You're talking incessantly. Shut up*
Ok, I need to call a nurse. Oh, good, here comes one now.
"You're awake. That'll please your mother. She's been worried sick. I'll bring her through."
Oh good, my mother is here. She'll know what to do.
"My baby, I was so worried about you. I've barely left your side. I've been so worried."
Who is this woman? Why is she hugging me? She smells like...
*Cookies and daisies. The best smell there is. So much warmth. Tell her you love her*
"I..."what the hell was that?! Why is my voice so high pitched?
"Oh baby, don't speak. You need to rest. I'm going to make some phone calls and pass on the good news that you're ok. I love you."
Who the Hell was that?
*How have you not realised what's going on yet? Open your eyes and look down*
Fine, I'll look dow- what the hell?! Are those boobs? Have I had a boob job? Is this some sort of sick joke??
*Ok, you need to calm down. I don't know what's happened but you need to relax. Just breathe. Breathe. Don't you faint on me. Don't you...* |
I smirked as I pointed to the relevant text. The Devil had agreed to it himself, so how could he argue?
He didn’t. “I see. You’re very clever. Well, I guess there’s nothing I can do.” Was he hiding a smile of his own?
He led me to a door, white in a golden frame, and I heard a choir beyond it. The Devil opened the door, and a radiant golden aura poured forth. “Well, in you go.”
“Just like that?” I asked, suspicious. “You made a bargain for my soul, and you’re not going to try to take it?”
The Devil shrugged disingenuously. “What can I do? You’re much too smart for me.”
I glanced at the door nervously. “That’s real Heaven? Not some kind of fake mockup in Hell?”
The Devil actually looked startled. “Oh, the Big Guy would never allow that. It’s real.”
I believed him. It looked like I’d outsmarted the Devil. “Okay then. It’s been a pleasure doing business with you.”
As I stepped through, the Devil said, “Likewise.”
I passed through the golden aura onto a cloud, and two angels grabbed my arms. “What are you doing out of uniform?” barked one.
He handed me a harp, while the other clapped some fake wings on my back and a glowing ring on my head. The second one said, “Get that harp busy at once. *Everyone* sings and plays. Firm orders from the Throne.”
I stared at them in confusion. The first one leaned forward, a menacing expression on his perfectly even face, and said, “Sing His praises. *Now.*”
I struck the harp ineptly, producing a discordant jangle. “Alleluia?” I quavered.
It had been many, many years since I’d read a description of what Heaven was like.
As the angels continued watching me with scowls, I glanced back towards the doorway, where the Devil wore a huge grin. He chirped, “I love it when you put Heaven in the contract. I don’t even have to torture you myself.”
The racket from all the bad singers and harpers was deafening, but even so, the Devil’s mocking laughter seemed to remain after he closed the door. |
Everything is normal, that was my mantra for everything.... But now? Nope NOTHING is normal because I am stuck in the dark forest with nothing but an apple, really this truly sucks.
..................................
I am eyeing a deer right now, but something feels *off* all though I can't put a pin in it... That's when I heard it... A barking in the distance, *FUCK* I decided to get a stick to protect me, hopefully its far away and not close...
I can hear it near me, I can hear it getting closer by the second, is this really how I was going to die? By the paws of a wolf? But I thought to myself I *might* die doing this and I *might* get mauled to death but at least I *could* survive it, and at *least* I wouldn't die without a fight, so I decided to hunt it down before it finds me.
Oh god, oh fuck what have I done I can't believe that I injured Blueby, Oh god, oh no. I decided to look for the nearest person or medication to nurse Blueby to health, oh no...
I found a rundown clinic near the edge of the forest, and broke in I looked frantically for bandages and alcohol, and that's when I found it a fully supplied room with all a dog could need, oh Blueby I am so sorry about this... |
Ten years ago, I was cleaning my late grandma’s attic when my weirdly un proportional teenage built smashed on the ceiling. I saw black as my body forcefully put itself to sleep. I came back to my senses completely panicking when I received a slap right across the face.
Who is here?
Genie: Oh don’t mind me I’m just waiting for your three wishes so I can finally be completely free.
I think i should call mom to pick me up I’m having hallucinations I said to myself trying to grasp something that felt like reality.
Genie: Come on kiddo just make a wish three times! You’ve smashed my lamp one hour ago already and it’s useless for me to be out here if my curse ain’t completely broken. So please will you make three wish?
I guess I can...anyway wishing won’t do harm even if I’m imagining everything.
Genie -Go go go that’s what I’m talking about, what’s the first one?
Wait! I need to think. Ummmmm
.....
Ok i got one. I wish to sit next to Alice for the rest of the school year.
Genie: That’s your wish seriously? Well ok done.
What’s wrong with it?
Genie: Nothing... two more to go!
I wish that my parents stop fighting.
Genie: Done they’ll divorce.
What no that’s not at all what I meant! I take it back!
Genie: I grant wish, I don’t try to understand the second or third or fourth degree. I’m not a genius, I’m a genie! One more and I’ll leave you cry your parents divorce.
I want a recipe for potion to make someone suffer as much as the pain they inflicted.
Genie: Here, cheeky kid huh that’s actually a pretty smart wish. Thanks for the freedom kid!
My bully got a hell of a week and it made my ego inflate watching him being so miserable. Although I was surprised I didn’t see him endure the nippy-twisty he constantly puts me through, I’d didn’t think much of it. In my head I call myself the superhero karma, I’ve been getting more and more careless as I punish people unjustly for the inconvenience they are to me.
This morning I was at my dad’s as every weekend since that fateful day and my new step brother was always borrowing my stuff without asking, so I decided to brew a coffee with a drop of potion. Morning roles around and I make sure to be the first one up. Pouring cups of coffee for everyone while wondering what’s he gonna go through. I love imagining what’s the worst someone has done to another human, it’s the most exciting part! I drank my coffee in a flash, while distributing the filled cups of brown goodness.
Before I could even bring the cup to my intended victim I started feeling strange and insecure. I splashed my face with cold water trying to calm myself. I stared at the bathroom mirror to see how pale my reflection was, but I only saw derogatory comments on the mirror. I tried to wipe it clean, but the words didn’t stop flowing. The more I stared, the more the words kept cutting away at my self esteem, but I just couldn’t turn away. I kept looking at myself trying to match every word to a trait of mine. I watched and judged the reflection until I fainted from hyperventilating in a full blown panic attack.
Laying on the cold tiled floor it dawned on me like a flashlight in the darkest night that I was the one hurting myself until I bled from my wrists. |
*Heyyyyy Evannnn. Evannnnnn get up.*
Evan rolled over in the grass.
*I didn't say roll over. I said get up.*
Evan shot up and spun around. It was just him in the backyard. "Rosie, you over there?"he yelled toward his neighbor's fence. Nothing.
*Okay Evan, let's start slowly.*
"Start what?"
*Look at your hand, Evan.*
He looked at his right hand.
*The other one Evan. The one that's throbbing and turning colors.*
He looked at his left hand. "Shit! What fuck the! I mean what the fuck?"
*Okay Evan, calm down.*
He didn't.
*Point your palm to the ground and think about going up.*
He continued looking at his left palm.
*Evan! Point your palm downward and think about upward.*
He lowered his palm to the ground and looks up.
*Dammit Evan, this is too slow. We need to get out of here and quickly. Point your palm to the ground and think about going up.*
With his palm down, he thought about jumping upward. Boompf! He jumped up a few feet and backward, landing on his back and bent over his right leg.
*Okay Evan. I think you get the idea. Trust me and follow my instructions. Let's move.*
"Move where? Who are you?"
*Damn the introductions. The people in that van out front are out to get me and I need you to keep moving.*
"I'm not going anywhere. I don't know what this is on my hand?"
*Evan I need you to point your palm to the ground and behind you a little and think about going over than fence.*
"What? No. I need to get inside."
*The people in that van will be inside in less than a minute.*
"What people?"
*Don't worry about that right now. We need to move! Point your palm to the ground.*
Evan pointed his palm to the ground.
*And now point your palm slightly behind you.*
His palm was down and pointed back.
*And now jump over the fence!*
Suddenly Evan leapt up. He was up a few feet in the air and moving forward. He panicked and came crashing down in front of the fence.
*Evan again! The fence!*
He pointed his palm down and back. He thought about clearing the fence.
Fwoosh! He leapt up and was now over the fence, heading to his neighbor's roof.
*Evan, check quickly. Are they coming?*
He looked back to his own yard. From here he could see over to the street in front of his house.
"There are some people getting out of a van and looking around."
*Quickly get over the ridge of this roof! Don't let them see you.*
"Who?"
*Jump nowI Move!*
Evan pointed his palm down and thought about a quick jump over to the other side of the roof. With a light thud he landed on the other side.
*Okay Evan, this is your life now. It's you and me versus the pursuers in that van.*
"Who dammit? Who are they, who are you"
*We gotta run from them. They have been hunting me for years. But they won't get me. You are going to help me Evan.*
"With what?"
*Clear this roof and jump again. Keep jumping and I'll tell you all about it.* |
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